#its more than bug bang theory could ever be

[vitamin-zeeth]

Did you guys know they're currently releasing season 7 of young sheldon. This news made my day I'm not even kidding

[fanmoose12]

Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 11/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Сhapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Сhapter 7

Сhapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

With every word from Levi's mouth, Erwin's face grew darker and darker.

"Fuck." He declared, as soon as Levi had finished. "Fuck," he repeated, rubbing his temples. He took a deep, heavy sigh, and when he blinked, the tense expression was miraculously gone, the usual look, full of determination and conviction, taking its place.

"So no sign of forced entry?” he asked, calm and collected and completely devoid of the previous frustration. “No sign of struggle? And no sign of Petra?"

"Yes, sir." Oluo confirmed with a frantic nod, which reminded Levi of a stupid toy dog Hange once put in his car.

Had the matter at hand been at least a little less grave, perhaps, he’d even crake a smile at the comparison. Hange definitely would have. Alas…

“And do we know who’s behind it?”

“No,” Levi replied. “Hange suspects one of Zeke’s man, but she also thinks some third party is involved.”

Erwin accepted his answer, slowly scratching his chin. “And where is Hange herself?"

“She went to talk to Zeke to ask if he knows something, and…" Levi faltered, not sure if he should share this information with Erwin. Hange was sure that Zeke was innocent, and Levi never doubted her, but…

"And?" Erwin prompted.

Fuck it, Levi decided. Perhaps, Erwin’s unbiased opinion was exactly what they needed.

"Oluo found Zeke's cigarette pack inside the apartment," he said, throwing it on Erwin's desk.

"It's not his," there wasn’t even a hint of doubt in his voice. Erwin didn’t even glance twice at the evidence presented to him. "Zeke would never be so careless. Someone's trying to sabotage him, and they are not very good at it."

“So you think it’s someone else?”

“Naturally.”

Erwin’s confidence eased a portion of his worries. If he and Hange were of the same mind, then it must be the truth. At least, he didn’t let Hange meet up with a potential culprit all by herself. Not that it gradually quelled his concern, but it was something…

“Zeke Yeager…” Oluo mumbled, biting his thumb. “Yeager, Yeager… I heard this name somewhere…”

“Huh?” Levi raised an eyebrow, looking quizzically at him.

“Yeager!” he exclaimed, his eyes lightening up. “Of course! Yes, now it came back to me!”

“What came back?” Levi demanded, glaring at Oluo in annoyance. God, how he hated being kept in the dark…

Oluo didn’t respond, irritating Levi even more. Instead he reached Erwin’s desk in two short strides, pushing him aside. “May I, sir?”

“Be my guest,” Erwin made a welcoming gesture, pulling his chair back. “If you know something, then…”

“Could be just a coincidence,”Oluo muttered, as he opened the database on Erwin’s computer. “But…”

For a long moment nothing happened. The office was silent, except for the sounds of typing on a keyboard, and Oluo’s quiet murmurs.  

Levi shared a look with Erwin. He shrugged helplessly, seeming just as bewildered by Oluo’s actions, as Levi himself felt.

“Aha!” he beamed, finally showing Erwin what he found. “Like I said, could be just a coincidence, but I came across name Yeager before. Here.”

“A family murdered in their own house,” Erwin began reading, his eyes quickly scanning the page. “Wife and husband found dead in their own bedroom by their fourteen year old son, who came back from a sleepover. The identity of a murderer remains unknown.”

“It was the first case I took as I started working,” Oluo confessed, scratching his neck. “That’s why it stuck with me. Don’t know if it has any connections to your Zeke…”

“The father of the family, Grisha Yeager,” Levi read the name from behind Erwin’s shoulder. “Zeke is his son. From the first marriage, but still… Maybe, he was murdered, because someone wanted to get back at Zeke.”

“And now that same someone wants to finish the job,” Erwin agreed. “The culprit was never found after all. It’s a solid theory.”

“Or as solid as we can get for now,” Levi nodded.

"It's different from other cases, though,” Erwin contemplated thoughtfully, his gaze turning distant, as he taped his finger against the desk.

"Other cases?" Oluo shuddered. "Are you talking about recent... Murder cases?" he paled, his lower lip trembled, and Levi started to regret bringing him here. They needed to keep their heads clear. Petra needed them to keep their heads clear. There was no time for worrying and panicking right now.

In Levi’s experience, that attitude could only lead to more tragedy.

"It's obviously different with Petra," Erwin said, his voice going an octave softer. Levi stared at him, almost gawking. Erwin wasn't the man to give empty promises. Either he was that optimistic about this whole ordeal, or... Levi preferred not to think about the other possibility.

"Levi?" Erwin turned to him. "What do you think?"

"I think Oluo is right, Petra was taken by someone close to Zeke. But either it was the same perpetrator from before or someone else, it remains to be unknown," he replied. "And I think we don't have any time to waste."

"Agreed," Erwin clenched his jaw, his brows furrowed. "I'll talk with Pixis and Nile, ask if they know anything or if they have any people they can spare... We need to start the search..."

"Sannes!" Oluo suddenly exclaimed, startling Erwin and Levi. "Sannes, we should check him first! We’ve planted a bug on him just yesterday!"

"Fuck," Levi groaned in frustration, feeling like the biggest and the most useless idiot in the world. He had completely forgotten about it.

"I didn't see him at work today," Erwin noted. "Perhaps, it's worth checking it out. Take care of it, Levi."

"Will do," he nodded. "Permission to go?"

"Report to me once you find anything," Erwin stood up. "I'll go to Pixis and Nile."

Levi nodded again, and left the office, his steps swift and heavy.

 ***

"Could it be our lead?" Oluo asked.

They've listened through every conversation that Sannes had that day and the day before. And only one of them, the one where he had agreed to a meeting with an unknown man, had raised Levi's suspicion.

"Not sure if we can call it a lead," he mumbled, biting his lip. There was no word about Petra and no mention of the actual location, but it was something they could work with. It was a starting point, at the very least. Much better than nothing. "But it's definitely a clue. Come on, we need to continue our investigation."

"Meaning..."

"Meaning we're going to break into Sannes' office and see if we can find something inside. Don't worry," he clasped Oluo's shoulder with just a little too much force. Oluo coughed, almost doubling over under Levi’s hard hand. "Nothing you hadn't done before."

  ***

“Zeke is a fool,” the man sneered, his voice full of disgust. “He’s not the man he was before. Ever since he took in that Zoe, he made mistake after mistake. It’s time to put an end to this. It’s time for someone else to take over his legacy. Our gang needs a new leader. Someone, who has as much potential as Zeke, but who doesn’t yet possess any of his flaws. Someone, who is cunning and ruthless. There is only one man who can do this," he finished, and even from afar Petra could see a shine of adoration in his eyes.

Sannes scoffed, rolling his eyes, not moved by the passionate speech at all. "And who is that?"

"No one can achieve the greatness Zeke once possessed. Except," the man smiled, and the sight of it made shivers run down Petra's spine.

"His own brother."

"You've gone mad," Sannes rolled his eyes, still unconvinced. "You've lost it completely, and now you want to drag me down with you. I refuse. Good luck getting arrested, but I’m out of here.”

“You’ll regret this, Sannes,” the man promised, his eyes flashing. “You’ll come begging for us to take you back in no time.”

“I really doubt that, boy,” Sannes sneered, his face showing nothing but disgust. “And if you’re going to actually proceed with your plan, then be ready to meet Ackerman. Believe me, it won’t be a pleasing experience. See you in prison,” he finished, and left, throwing the door shut.

As soon as Sannes had stormed out, the man with an eerie smile turned around to face her.

Instantly, Petra closed her eyes and lowered her head, but the man simply laughed.

"There is no need to pretend," he spoke, shortening the distance between them. "I know you've been awake for quite some time, detective Ral."

She looked up then, saying nothing and glaring at him beneath her bangs. Just the sight of that man left her breathless, her heart beating so loudly she could hear it in her ears, but she wouldn’t show him her fear. She was better than this. He may have had an ultimate upper hand over her, but she would never give him the satisfaction of seeing her tremble.

"I think we've started off on a wrong foot," the man smiled, the shadow of a lightbulb above him making him look even creepier. "I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Floch, nice to meet you!"

With the same crazy smile on his lips, he reached out and patted her shoulder. Petra winced, unable to move away from the undesired touch.

"What do you want from me?" she hissed, trying to hide the shaking in her voice. As discreetly as possible, she tried to loosen her restraints. In movies she watched with Erd, Gunter and Oluo, heroes always freed themselves so easily, the ropes being nothing more than a nuisance. But in reality, they didn't bulge an inch. Petra searched through her mind, trying to remember what characters from those movies did. Wiggle out of the restrains? Broke their wrists? Or was it applicable only for the handcuffs? Shit. She should have watched more movies like this, instead of melodramas and rom-coms. Shifting her attention back to the present, she stared up at her captor, still glaring at him defiantly.

"What do I want from you? The same thing I wanted from the others."

The same thing he wanted from the others? But the others were... dead. Petra suppressed a shiver.

"It's nothing personal, really,” he continued in the same careless manner. “All I need from you is to motivate your partner."

"Levi?" Petra gasped. "What it has to do with him?"

To her surprise, the man shrugged. "Nothing, really. In a way," he swept his hand across the room. "He's just a victim of circumstances. He's one of the best detectives in this city and he has a personal connection with Zeke. It'd be a shame not to use him."

"But why do you need him?" she pulled on the ropes, leaning closer towards the man and looking deep inside his eyes, trying to see right through him, trying to understand him. "Why can't you just kill Zeke and be done with it?"

The man tutted, shaking his head. "That's not what I—" there it was, that same pleased, creepy smile. "What we want to do. Taking Zeke's life would be too easy. We want to destroy it. But unfortunately," he continued in a voice of badly feigned sympathy. "You're not the main event here."

"Not the main event?" Petra echoed, confused. If it wasn't her, then....

"Not sure if you've met...” his eyes lightened up with something dark and dangerous. The smile on his face grew wider, more sinister. “But surely you've heard of one Hange Zoe?"

"Hah," a short chuckle escaped her lips. Very soon it turned into a full blown laughter. Petra would have clenched her sides if she wasn't tied up, she would have doubled over, hands on her knees and chest heaving, overcome with a sudden feat of giggles.

"What are you laughing at?" Floch inquired, the smile disappearing under a frown.

"You, of course," Petra answered, still breathless. "You're a bigger fool than I thought. To think that you can take on Hange Zoe..." of course, he had already gotten her, but Floch had taken her by surprise and she wasn't nearly as experienced and skilled as Hange. And even if they do somehow catch Hange... "Levi would never let you even get close to her. More than that," Petra raised her chin, a confident smirk pulling on her lips. "I'm sure he'll show up here so very soon. He'll save me and ruin your stupid plan. Then you'll be rotting in jail alongside your Zeke."

"We'll see about that," Floch promised through gritted teeth. "Wait a couple of hours, detective, and we'll see if your optimism would remain just as strong."

He gave her a furious look and then did a sharp turn, heading to the door.

“Enjoy your last hours. I’ll come to check up on you later.”

With that he had left, and Petra finally managed to breathe normally.

*** "Weren't you supposed to be good at this?" Levi dryly inquired. With a bored expression on his face, he was leaning against the wall, watching Oluo fiddle with a lock on the door to Sannes' office.

"I never said I was," Oluo grunted, wiping sweat from his forehead. His head darted from one side to other, checking if the hallway remained empty. "It's my first time breaking into someone's office, you know."

"Eh?" Levi frowned, confused. "Then how did you and Petra get in the other day?"

"I stole a key," Oluo huffed.

Levi rolled his eyes, pushing Oluo aside. "Let me handle it then. You go and stand on a lookout."

Oluo didn't need to be asked twice. He got his fair share of bullying from Levi today. With an annoyed but very quiet - he wasn’t so thrilled about receiving even more insults - sigh, he rose to his feet, going to do what Levi had requested of him. He didn’t even reach the end of a hallway, and Levi was calling out to him.

"Already?" his eyebrows went up. "You broke the lock so quickly? How?"

"Well," Levi shrugged and pushed the door open, sporting an almost smug expression. "Let's just say I wasn't always a law-abiding policeman."

"So cool..." Oluo whispered in reverence, as he followed Levi inside the office.

In Oluo's humble opinion and in comparison to a small cubicle he shared with Erd, Sannes' office was huge. A large desk, a wide bookshelf that took up most of the wall, a leather couch and a mini-fridge with a coffee machine and a microwave oven? If affiliating yourself with criminals meant you can have a workplace like this... Oluo wasn't that opposed to the idea anymore.

But they took Petra, he reminded himself. They were the bad guys, even if they were much richer and more successful than he could ever be. They certainly didn’t deserve any of it. And his job was to catch them. 

"So what should be our starting point?" he asked Levi.

"You could start with telling me what the fuck you are doing inside my damn office."

With heart in his throat, Oluo whirled around. As his eyes met Sannes' dark and furious ones, Oluo gulped, slowly taking a step back.

He chanced a glance at Levi and was surprised to see that he didn't look as scared and panicked as Oluo himself felt.

Quite the contrary.

"Sannes." he snarled.

With wide eyes and mouth open in shock, Oluo watched how Levi manhandled Sannes, a man, who was almost twice his size. He pushed him to the wall, fisting hands into his shirt.

"Where is Petra, you scumbag?" he hissed into his face. "Where are you holding her?"

“Let go of me, you freak!” Sannes shouted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh, but you do,” Levi’s voice dropped even lower, almost resembling a growl. “You know about everything – Zeke’s dealings, Petra’s kidnapping, Hange’s survival,” he pulled Sannes even closer. “So I repeat my question – where are you holding her?”

"I don't know!" Sannes wheezed out, already out of breath.

"Bullshit," Levi answered, his voice so dark and dangerous it made shivers run down Oluo's back. And he wasn’t the one Levi was talking to. He really didn’t envy Sannes right now. "You know it, and if you're not a complete idiot, you're going to tell me everything right fucking now."

Sannes looked down at him, his gaze calculating.  "If I tell you, do you promise not to reveal my connection with Zeke?"

"No,” Levi answered coolly, shaking Sannes once more. “But you're going to tell me anyway."

Sannes closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. "Fine,” he said. “I'll tell you everything. Just let me go."

"Smart choice," Levi murmured and instantly took a step back.

Sannes sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair. "He's keeping her at the docks,” he mumbled, his face aimed at the ground. “I'll send you the exact location."

"Good," Levi nodded, much calmer now. "And after you do that, go straight to Erwin. If I were you, I wouldn't make him wait. Perhaps, he'd be more merciful then. Although,” he added, sending Sannes one last glare. “I doubt he actually would."

Levi turned on his heels then, walking out of the office. Oluo stayed behind for a second longer, a pressing need to ask Sannes a question arising in him.

"Petra?" his voice broke on her name, but Oluo willed himself to stand strong, looking up at Sannes without an ounce of fear. "Is she alright?"

"Dragged and unconscious," Sannes replied, rubbing the spot where Levi had grabbed him. "But she's unharmed. For now."

For now. Those two words made his knees buckle. They needed to hurry. Petra's life was on the line.

***

With sweat dripping down her face and completely out of breath, Hange finally reached Zeke's hideout.

Panting like a chain-smoker and with her leg muscles burning, she climbed all four sets of stairs, cursing Zeke all the while. Why couldn't he put his office on the first floor? Or next to a police precinct? Would have made her life so much easier.

As expected, Zeke was inside his meeting room, smoking. The fat rings of smoke were flowing around the room, flying just below the ceiling before dissipating into nothingness. Hange narrowed her eyes, squinting at the cigarette in his fingers. Could the cigarette from Petra’s apartment really belong to him? Perhaps, they should have run some tests on it… No, Hange shook her head. Zeke was innocent - at least, in that regard.

She looked around the room, nodding at Pieck and Porco, who, as usual, were sitting next to their boss.

"Ah, my dear Hange!" sweeping the ash from his cigarette, Zeke raised his hands, opening them in a welcoming gesture. "What brings you here? Already missed us?" he winked and Hange scoffed.

"Missed your ugly face?” she rolled her eyes. “Not in a million years."

Zeke shook his head, his gaze filling with disappointment. "Detective Ackerman has a terrible influence on your sense of humor," he complained, his expression turning sourer.

"Whatever," Hange fell down on a chair next to him. "I came to ask you for help. Petra is missing."

"Petra?" Zeke frowned, looking genuinely confused. The lost look inside his eyes cemented Hange's conclusion that he wasn't the one involved in her kidnapping. Zeke was sleazy and unreliable, but he was also a very bad liar. Well, that meant they managed to rule out one possible suspect…

"Yes, Petra. Levi's partner."

"Ah, he found a new one already?" Zeke spread his lips into a wide, self-contained smirk. "Not very loyal, is he?"

More loyal than you will ever be, Hange wanted to say, but stopped herself. Now was not the time to start a pointless squabble.

"Do you know something or not?" she demanded from him.

"I don't," Zeke answered, putting a cigarette to his lips and exhaling the smoke right in Hange's face. He knew how much she hated it, asshole. She waved the smoke away, scowling fiercely. "But I do know one thing," he turned to Porco. "The time has come, start packing."

Without asking for clarification, Porco nodded, thrusted hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and hurriedly left.

Hange watched him go, stunned. Was Zeke planning something? What could it be? Why didn’t she know about it?

There was only one way to find out. She surveyed Zeke’s face carefully, trying to see his motives reflected there.

"Packing? To where? What the hell are you talking about, Zeke?"

"Don't worry about our destination," he patted her hand, looking so condensing Hange had to clench her fists to stop herself from punching the bastard. "You're going with us after all."

"Like hell I will!" Hange threw his hands off, glaring at Zeke. "And you can’t seriously expect me to follow you. What does all of it mean?"

Zeke shrugged, lightening up another cigarette and taking a long drag. "It's the grand finale, Zoe. The dramatic climax, the thrilling last act. And I was never the one for theatrics. So I'll leave the stage and go on my way."

"You promised to help," Hange grunted. She couldn't believe it, she actually trusted the bastard, and now he tries to escape? She wouldn't let him. "Or did you lie to us?"

"I wasn't lying," Zeke scoffed. "Like I said, I don't enjoy the drama. I simply changed my mind."

"So you won't honor your promise?"

Zeke rolled his eyes. "Zoe, please. I'm a criminal. The word honor was never in my vocabulary."

"Fine," Hange huffed, blowing hair out of her face. The attempt to awaken his consciousness failed. Maybe, she could appeal to his ego instead… "But someone is targeting you. Don't you want to know who it is?"

"Not particularly,” Zeke shook his head. “Since they went through all that trouble just to get me, I'd rather we never meet. Lord knows what they're going to do then, and, unlike you, detective, I know what self-preservation means."

"So that's it? You're just going to leave?"

Hange couldn’t believe it. She knew Zeke was a scumbag, but goddamn it. She didn’t expect him to be that untrustworthy.

"Of course, I’m not going to just leave," Zeke smiled. "I'll take you with me. To make sure that no one is going to follow us."

Hange snorted. "You're that delusional? I told you already, I'd rather die than go anywhere with you."

"Be it as you wish," he said. "Pieck," he lazily outstretched his hand to her. "Make our dear detective cooperate. Do with her what you want, but make sure she won’t get in our way."

Hange turned to Pieck, her heart skipping a beat. She held her breath and tensed her muscles, anticipating her first move. She could take Pieck in a fight, in theory. But in reality, she came unarmed, and Pieck always carried a gun. And a couple of knifes.

And Hange wasn't sure that her wits were much sharper.

There was a bit, the air in the room growing stiff. Hange swallowed, her one eye narrowed, as she watched Pieck. Maybe, if she makes the first move—

"No." Pieck said suddenly.

For a moment, there was silence. Hange sat there, dumbfounded, staring at Pieck and feeling utterly lost. She didn’t mishear? Did Pieck really—

Next to her, Zeke seemed to have the exact same trouble. He blinked a few times and then his expression changed, turning into a look of betrayal and fury.

"What did you just say?" he snarled, baring teeth at her.

"No," Pieck repeated, staring straight at him, not swayed by his outburst. "I won't touch Hange, and you, Zeke, will go with her and surrender to the police."

"What do you think—"

"Stop it, Zeke," Pieck sighed tiredly. "Own up to your shit and stop running away. Do you really not get it? If you do this right now, whether you'll kill Hange or take her with you, this—" she gestured around, her gaze on Zeke hard and disappointed. "This running and hiding will never end. If you touch a hair on her head, detective Ackerman will get you even from underneath the Earth. Accept it, Zeke," she stood up and squeezed his shoulder. "You've lost that battle the moment you started it. You simply picked up the wrong opponents."

With slow, elegant steps Pieck approached Hange and bent down to leave a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Goodbye, Hange," she murmured, tucking a hair behind her ear. "It's been fun."

In spite of herself, Hange smiled. Sarcastic, adorable Pieck always had such an effect on her. "Are you leaving already?" she asked, touching a place where Pieck's lips met her skin.

"Well," Pieck grinned. "Pock had started packing, right?"

"And where are you going?" Zeke wondered, his lips pressed in a line and hands crossed at his chest. He stubbornly refused to even glance at Pieck.

"A secret," she chirped, smiling cheerfully. "But I'll make sure to send a postcard. Hange, I'll send yours to detective Ackerman's address?” she winked, chuckling at the sight of red color on Hange’s cheek. “And, Zeke? You'll be staying at the state prison, right?"

"Oh fuck off, Pieck," he groaned. "Go away already."

Their eyes met for a second, and Zeke's gaze softened ever so slightly. "Try not to get caught, will you?"

"Roger that, chief!" Pieck saluted, kissed Zeke too and then headed to the entrance, gliding on the floor and humming under her breath.

"You two should talk," she advised Hange and Zeke, and then quietly closed the door.

As soon as Pieck was gone, Zeke dropped his head on his hands, sighing in frustration.

"How the fuck do you do it, Zoe?" he sent her a side-glance. "How the fuck do you manage to inspire that kind of loyalty in people?"

Hange shrugged, sitting back in a chair, and curled her lips in a crooked grin. "Try not being a complete jerk, perhaps?"

"Fuck off," he retorted, hiding his face again. "You'll send me to jail, right?"

"R-right," Hange sang. "And before that, you'll help us looking for Petra."

"And if I refuse?"

"Initially, I planned to be the one organizing your arrest. But I can give that honor to Levi..."

Zeke visibly shuddered.

"Fine," he looked up, fixing the glasses on his face and brushing the hair back from his forehead. "I'll help you. Now get the hell out of here."

Hange arched an eyebrow. "You're coming with me, you know that?"

"I'll come," he huffed. "I promise. For real this time," he added, when Hange just kept giving him an unimpressed look. "Just give me half an hour to get all of my possessions in order, would you? I don't know if I'll be coming back after all."

"Half an hour." Hange nodded, looking at him strictly. "If you don't show up in half an hour, I'm sending Levi to get you."

She would have stayed behind and monitored him, but time was of the essence. She promised Levi she'd back in two hours. And the watch was telling her it was almost an hour past that. She needed to get back, and quickly. Hurrying out of the building, Hange rushed to the precinct.

But in her haste to get back to Levi, she didn't see a swift shadow that followed right after her.

***

One way, then the other, back and forth, left and right, Levi paced around the room.  

Seven. That was the amount of steps needed to get from one end of Erwin's office to the other.

Levi glanced out of the window, and then turned around, starting anew. He clenched and unclenched his fists, thinking if he should look at his phone again. Maybe, he missed a message? Didn't hear its ringing? Maybe, she had already replied to a dozen of his texts and calls?

"Levi," a heavy hand fell on his shoulder, making him stop in his tracks. "Levi, we can't wait any longer," again, Erwin's voice was so much gentler than usual, and that alone should have been enough for him to realize that he was being irrational. That, the eyes of a dozen other policemen, gathered in Erwin’s office, who looked at him with a mix of worry and sympathy.

"We have the location," Erwin reminded, bringing him back to present.

"I know."

"We have the team."

"I know."

"We have a plan."

"I know," Levi gritted through teeth. "But we do not have Hange!"

Frustrated, he turned away from Erwin. He took out his phone, holding it tightly.

Why didn't she call? Why didn't pick up the phone and answer his texts? Where the fuck was she? She promised to be back in two hours. Almost three passed and no sign of that messy, four-eyed brilliant weirdo. The knot in his stomach grew tighter with each passing second.

Logically, he knew Hange could be simply running late. She could be stuck in traffic or she could be busy trying to get some kind of useful information out of Zeke. But while Hange was never the one to care about such trite matters as punctuality and she could easily get absentminded and usually appeared to be scatterbrained and frivolous, she was so very different during the times like this. Times, when lives were on the line. Hange never let herself be so unfocused, that’s why Levi was so worried now. He was anxious, and he knew that feeling won't go away until he sets his eyes on Hange, alive, breathing and well. He just got her back, the thought of losing her… Levi cursed, checking the phone again.

"Levi..." Erwin sighed, patting his shoulder. "You know, we can't waste our time."

He knew that. Petra needed their help, needed him. He couldn't let her down, but still...

Hange, oh god, Hange. He couldn’t lose her. Not again.

"Perhaps, detective Zoe isn't going to come back," came a quiet murmur from the corner of the room.

Levi’s head whirled in that direction, and, in a flash, he was beside him. "What did you just say?" he demanded from Oluo, barely stopping himself from grabbing him just as forcefully as he had done with Sannes.  

Oluo swallowed, a trail of sweat rolling down his face, but he stared back at Levi, raising his chin.

"She was working with an enemy for more than two years. Maybe, she was the one who kidnapped Petra."

Levi closed his eyes, counting to ten in his head. He was not going to lose it right now. He was not. Not when Erwin - and a dozen other of his colleagues - were looking at him.

"Bozado," he began as calmly as he was able in that moment. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course, sir!" he answered without a moment of hesitation.

"Good," Levi nodded. "You trust me. And I trust Hange. With my life. And if you are at least half as smart as you're trying to appear, you'll trust her too. If you're not ready to,” his gaze grew harder, enabling Oluo from turning away. “Then get the fuck out of my team. If you doubt Hange, you doubt me, and I can’t work like that, I have to trust my people. So what do you say – are you leaving or staying?"

"I'm... I'm staying with you, sir."

"Alright," Levi watched Oluo’s face for another second, his eyes narrowed. Would he follow his orders without question? It seemed like he would. He hoped so, at least. With a low, thoughtful hum, Levi turned to Erwin. "We can start the operation. Bozado will lead my team."

He pointedly ignored the shocked gasp from Oluo. The boy wasn’t nearly as experienced, wasn’t even a detective, but their mission was to get back Petra. And Levi believed Oluo wouldn’t let himself fuck it all up.

It's obvious he has feelings for her, Hange once told him. She was right that time, but then again – when she wasn’t?

"And you, Levi?" Erwin asked.

"Half an hour," he promised. "Half an hour, and I'll be at the location."

Hange swore to come back to him. This time, Levi won't let her broke that promise.

Closing the door behind himself, he hurried to Zeke. He prayed that Hange was alright. Zeke wouldn’t get out of this alive, if she weren’t.

***

The silence pressed onto her. The silence, the waiting for god knows what - it was all making Petra go slowly insane. She wanted to hear something, any sound would do at this point.

Or so she thought.

But then Floch came back, sauntering inside and still sporting the same deranged grin, and Petra realized that she preferred silence so much more than the low, out of tune humming mixed with the sound of him polishing the various knifes taken from a long table in front of him.

She squirmed, the ropes digging into her skin even more. It would leave bruises, she thought absentmindedly.

Bruises? She chided herself almost immediately. Who would care about bruises if they find her dead? She suppressed another shiver.

They won't find her dead, Petra tried to persuade herself. They won't, because so very soon Levi would be here, and he'll save her. Perhaps, detective Hange would be with him, maybe, Oluo too...

She had friends who cared about her. They won't let her be murdered. She just had to keep believing in them.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked Floch, trying to distract herself from the thousand of horrible what ifs.

Why haven’t you— no, she wouldn’t ask him that. She would remain optimistic.

“You’ll see very soon,” he told her enigmatically. “My friend is almost here.”

His friend? Did he mean Zeke’s brother? The one, who had planned it all? And what would happen, when he comes? Would he—

No, she stopped herself once again. She needed to hold onto that hope. She needed to stay strong.

The sound of footsteps somewhere above her startled Petra. Hearing them too, Floch started chuckling. He turned to Petra, pressing a finger to his lips.

“That’s my friend,” he whispered quietly, as though it was the biggest secret in the world. “And he brought someone with him.”

The next second, the door opened and a man – so young, probably in his early twenties – stumbled in. He was hobbling slightly, his hand pressed to a place just below his hairline. His face was a mess – split lip, bruised eye that already started to turn deep purple, bloodied nose and forehead.

“You didn’t tell me she was a fucking psycho,” he grumbled, glaring daggers at Floch. “I wouldn’t have a chance, if I wasn’t armed.”

“But?” Floch passed him a white cloth to wipe off the blood. “You’ve caught her, right?” his voice was full of hope, and his fingers were trembling in anticipation.

“She’s in my car, dragged out of her mind. Help me get her here.”

“With pleasure,” Floch turned to Petra, winking. “You’ll have company so very soon, detective. I hope you’re excited! I am!”

He didn’t stop to hear her response, following after his friend and leaving her alone once again.

It was possibly her last chance, she realized. Petra desperately pulled on the ropes, trying to get away, but to no avail. She couldn’t move an inch, and it seemed like the more she struggled, the tighter her bindings became.

Not enough time passed, before Floch had returned, dragging a body inside. His friend put the chair, right next to Petra, and Floch dropped the body there.

No, not just some body, Petra realized. Fear crippled inside her, seizing her heart in its merciless hold.

Not just some body, Hange Zoe’s body.

Her head was bowed, but even from where she was sitting, in a poorly lit room, Petra could see blood dripping down her cheek and neck.

So much blood, she thought. She was breathing, albeit faintly. But she wasn’t waking up.

Her heart stopped, as Petra realized another thing – if Hange was there, no one was looking for her. And if no one was looking… then Hange and she… they would most probably… not be found.

At least, not alive, or so it seemed.

Petra tried to hold onto that sliver of hope, but with Hange Zoe’s bloodied face in her line of sight, it was getting increasingly harder and harder to.

[zedwards]

MOVIE DATES WITH STRAY KIDS

stray kids x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.8k

warnings: intended for male reader, but can be read as gender neutral; my first fic 👉👈 im nervous; lowercase aesthetic; does “bastard” count as a swear word..?

i hope you enjoy this little gift :)

bang chan

he likes romantic comedies

tbh being chan’s s/o would feel like a romcom of its own

since he doesn’t like crowds, your movie dates together usually wouldn’t involve actually going to the movies

instead you’d probably both opt to stay in for the night and watch a movie on the couch

under multiple blankets

in each other’s arms

hugs and cuddles

with the occasional kiss on the top of your head

it’s so soft

it’s chan :)))

he does the little claps at the end of the movie

because happy endings ^–^

y’know those awkward scenes where the main couple meets for the first time?

he likes to point out which character you were most similar to when the two of you first met

“i didn’t know you were in this movie!”

“you look so different! i could hardly recognize you!”

he’s such a dork

all your movie nights would end in one of three ways:

1.) you falling asleep in his arms

2.) him falling asleep holding you close (yeah not really, this man doesn’t sleep that much T_T)

or 3.) you both make it through the movie, and one of you says something like

“this is nice...i wish we could just stay like this”

and so you both (in theory) fall asleep right where you are

either way, chan is the best boyfriend and neither of you know what you did to deserve each other

lee know

he’d get you to go see a horror movie

even if you protest, he’d manage to convince you somehow

pokes fun at you every time you get scared

during a suspenseful part in the movie, he’d suddenly put his hands on your shoulders and shake you (lightly) out of nowhere, just to startle you

and he’d have to stifle his giggles because your reaction is just too priceless

absolutely relishes in how you never let go of his arm

like ever

seriously, his arm might as well be an extension of your body at this point

he may act like he’s annoyed

but he loves it

cuz he knows it’s because you feel safe with him

and if you hide your face in the crook of his neck

he’d get this look on his face...

something between an evil smirk and an amused grin

why? because his plan is working

plot twist: the whole reason he chose to see a horror movie with you was so that you would cling to him

surprise!! >:]

but even if you catch on, he’ll never admit it

tsundere

“did you even see any of the movie?”

you just kinda grumble in response, still latched onto his arm

“i can’t believe it... i so generously paid for your ticket, only for you to hide your face the whole ti- OW!”

you jab him in the side with your elbow give him a “love tap” :)

but it’ll take more than that to get him to stop teasing you about it

he’s a cocky bastard but you love him to death for it

seo changbin

superhero movie!!!

like something from the mcu

seeing him get so excited/invested in the movie??

wholesome

but he might get a little too excited

in other words, going to the movies with changbin is an...interactive experience

meaning that he talks at the movie

not to the movie, but at the movie

like...he talks at the characters on screen

as if they can hear him

honestly it’s kinda cute

but occasionally you have to remind him to keep his voice down

“HE TRIED TO TELL YOU NOT TO TOUCH THE STONE”

“shhhh alright calm down a bit-”

“...AND NOW YOU DEAD”

“changbin i love you but please don’t get us kicked out of the theater”

10/10 would have his arm around you throughout the movie

even if his arm goes numb, he’d refuse to let anything stop him

“changbin, you don’t have t-”

“CUDDLES.”

lowkey feels like a pillow

bc he beefy

on very rare occasions he might fall asleep during the movie

if he does end up dozing off and you catch him in the act, he’d deny it profusely

he likes to spontaneously slip his hand into yours :)

and lace your fingers together :))

you’re holding hands now :)))

his presence is just so warm and fuzzy and you make each other so happy

hwang hyunjin

THIS MAN

the funnest(?) most fun bf in existence

he’s definitely the type to try and smuggle outside food into the theater

he insists that he’s inconspicuous about it

and he tries to be

but he’s not :)

“uh... hyunjin, why are you wearing two hoodies?”

“i uh... i’m... cold?”

“so you’re sticking bags of microwaveable popcorn in between your sweatshirts...to keep warm?”

*visibly sweating* “i can explain...”

ok ok

so y’all seeing a comedy

why?

because HIS LAUGH OMG

it’s so bubbly and contagious

so naturally, you’d both be laughing up a storm at the back of the theater

and sometimes it’s because of the movie

but most of the time it’s because of the side comments the two of you keep making to each other

and it doesn’t help that he keeps making these ridiculous observations about the characters in the movie

“what’s up with that guy?”

“what about him?”

“why is he built like a refrigerator?”

about halfway through the movie, you both reach that delirious state where literally anything and everything becomes funny

even if it’s not supposed to be funny

...especially if it’s not supposed to be funny

the two of you? lowkey hyenas

long story short, you’re both asked to leave the theater not even two hours into the film :)

han jisung

action!! movie!!

finishes the popcorn within the first ten minutes of the film

that is, if he doesn’t scarf it all down during the previews

he talks through the entIRE THING

he’s always got something to say

it’s like watching the director’s commentary version of a movie

but instead of the director talking about the film-making process

it’s jisung muttering nonsense in your ear

sometimes pertaining to the movie

and other times...

“hey did i ever tell you about the time i saw a seagull eating garbage?”

...yeah, other times it’s...not

either way, you don’t mind

because you aren’t really paying much attention to the movie anyways

you’re too busy admiring your boyfriend

how could you not?

the way he’s on the edge of his seat, giving the movie his full attention...

the light from the screen flickering dimly on his face, highlighting his gentle features...

you’re the luckiest person in the world, no doubt

his eyes light up whenever something particularly cool/badass happens in the movie

but he also gets startled by the explosions every now and then

when that happens, you just look at each other for a moment

and then burst into a fit of giggles

“stoooppp!! it was loud, ok??”

you just hum in response and rest your head on his shoulder

y’know that thing he does where like...

he’s giggling, but he has something he wants to say, so he keeps trying to talk?

but his words keep getting cut off by his own laughter?

yeah... that’s what he’s doing

he’s adorable

lee felix

animated movie

a firm believer that you’re never too old to enjoy cartoons

he never lost that child-like energy/enthusiasm, which is part of what makes him such a gem

so of course, when the new disney movie came out, he knew he had to go see it with you

he would definitely load up on snacks from concessions

if you don’t stop him, he’s gonna be buying two giant things of popcorn and at least five different kinds of candy

and when he walks back to you after paying, he’d just smile brightly from behind the mountain of junk food in his hands like

“snacks :D!!!!!”

seriously though, try to keep track of how much popcorn he eats

bc he might overeat and get a stomachache :((

obviously he can take care of him self, cuz he’s an adult

but like

he loves when you look out for him

because he knows just how much you care about him

sunshine boy :((

y’all already know how much of a cuddle bug this man is

so of course that means lots of cute, affectionate gestures during the movie

skinship

holding hands

you resting your head on his shoulder

and him resting his head on top of your head

and most importantly SNUGGLES

snuggles are a must

for him, movie dates are just an excuse to be extra touchy with you

even though he never needs an excuse to get cuddles whenever he wants

because c’mon

it’s felix

what are you gonna do, say no?

kim seungmin

murder mystery film

tends not to talk all that much during movies

he’d just be so completely engrossed in the movie that he’d forget about his surroundings

but that’s not to say he won’t hold your hand or drape his arm over your shoulders

every now and then you can catch him leaning forward in his seat

with his mouth slightly ajar

it’s so endearing

but if for whatever reason you want to get his attention...

heh...

yeah, good luck with that

you’d have to maybe give his hand a lil squeeze to get his attention

and at first he’d just turn his head in your direction, keeping his eyes glued to the movie

but if you gave his hand another squeeze, he’d snap out of it

“psst...seungmin”

“mm.”

“hey, seungmin?”

“huh? yeah?”

“i love you”

if that doesn’t make his heart SWELL—

his dazed expression would quickly shift into one of pure elation and fondness

he might not respond verbally

but he’d gently bring your hand up to his lips

press a soft kiss atop your knuckles

and then lower your hand again without letting go, turning his attention back to the movie

but that bright smile of his would never falter for even a moment

he loves you too

so so much :)

yang jeongin

another one for romantic comedies

he likes it when there’s a little less “rom” and slightly more “com”

and so do you

because it means you get to hear his laugh more

oh god...

his laugh

the little giggles in between the short gasps for air...

so cute

“no. i’m not cute.”

he is very cute

probably won’t initiate any skinship

but if you do, he will absolutely go along with it

sometimes he’ll nod off in the middle of a movie

and then wake up during the credits, completely disoriented

“where am i”

“you fell asleep”

“huh??”

“you drooled a little on my shoulder, you goof”

unlike hyunjin, he’s really good at sneaking food into the theaters

like really really good

almost to the point that it’s scary

usually people try to sneak in popcorn or candy or maybe soda

well not jeongin

“hey, you want some?”

“what the- HOW DID YOU GET A BUCKET OF FRIED CHICKEN IN HERE”

“:]”

he’s not telling

like or reblog if you enjoyed ^^ feedback is always welcome and very much appreciated!

[carinyms]

We're three days from the Loki finale and I’m back to spout more meta and theories about episodes 5 & 6! It’s a long one (again.)

I really enjoyed episode five. People have complained that they felt it didn't do much to move the show forward, but one of the things I've loved most about this show is the time it takes to sit with the characters and learn about their backstory, their feelings. (I'm always a little bugged when critics say that an episode hasn't done enough to move the plot forward, because without adequate character development, why should I care about the plot?) I thought the pacing of it was really well balanced.

….and I have never been so nervous for a finale in my entire life. There’s a lot of reasons.

The first is just the fact that I’ve been waiting for this show for a whole year, and the anticipation and excitement of it literally helped get me through the pandemic--so when those final end credits roll I’m going to be a whole mess no matter what happens. (I really hope the rumors floating around about season two are accurate) I also just feel like it’s somewhat inevitable that this is our final farewell to Tom’s Loki, and like—I’ll never be ready, but especially right now, amidst all the rampant controversy around this show, I’m just not ready to deal with that. I have a *small* modicum of hope that this won't be the case, but it feels unlikely. Anyway, guess I’ll die.

I really want this show to stick the landing, so to say. I loved the last episode, but a lot of the response has been that it felt like a lull in the plot. I want this show to end in a satisfying bang so it can get the credit it deserves.

Also I’m a whole hypocrite eating my words from last week—I’m fully on-board with Loki/Sylvie now (not that I was ever really against it)--I’m not sure why I’m surprised. They’re so adorable and wholesome, and I’m in love with seeing Loki in love. It’s so precious. (Just as a PSA, if you’re not into them that’s chill, and you’re allowed to dislike a ship without trying to justify your opinion by labeling shippers as morally problematic. Selfcest isn’t a real thing, therefore there isn’t a moral high ground to stand on here. Okay? Okay.) Wherever it ultimately leads, their relationship is still a really sweet exploration of them both growing and learning how to love themselves and trust others. Also, them cuddling under a tablecloth is the cutest shit I’ve ever seen with my two eyes.

MY THEORIES:

I love Sylvie so much, SO MUCH — and she is 100% going to stab Loki in the back by the end of the next episode. I don’t think the betrayal is going to stick, and by the end they’ll both be on the same page again, but the conversations on trust have been way too one-sided for my comfort. If nothing else she's going to seriously consider it. Here’s one way I can see that going. Spoiler alert: it hurts.

Sylvie betrays Loki at one point—and we see Loki’s growth and arc come full circle as, even after being betrayed by the person he hinged his entire development around, he still believes in doing the right thing, in saving her regardless. It ends in a heart-wrenching self-sacrifice of some kind, and his actions serve as the catalyst for her full development as well. We keep seeing different versions of Loki die for their ‘glorious purpose’, just like how Classic Loki shouts the phrase as he was consumed by Aloith (RIP King, I love you).

Loki has already called Sylvie his glorious purpose (or inferred it). There’s been backlash around him saying that, but the way I see it, it’s less “I’m obsessed with this girl she’s my purpose now” and more “I believe that she’s the best version of us and I’m going to make it my purpose to help her succeed and be what the rest of us aren’t”. That’s why seeing all the other variant Loki’s at their worst in the Loki clubhouse (? what do I call this lol) only fuels him more to find her. I think about what Mobius told him: “You exist to cause pain and suffering and death, all so others can achieve the best versions of themselves”. I don’t think Loki truly believes he can be the best version of Loki — I think he saw Sylvie and thought, "it's her". He’s decided he’s going to help her achieve the best version of herself, but he'll do it giving her love and trust and devotion, rather than through betrayal, pain and suffering. He’s re-writing his pre-determined role, in his own small way. I’m so proud of him.

So who’s behind it all and what’s truly going on here? (This isn’t really one theory, more like a string of possibilities and I don’t really know how they’d fit together.)

I still think it’s another version of Loki. And if it is, I can’t help but appreciate the connections between his position dictating the end of time in the show in relation to Loki’s role in the Norse myths, where he’s the catalyst for the destruction of all things. It feels relevant, considering the whole idea that ‘the end of time hasn’t been written yet’ has come up twice now. That would be a fascinating tie-in to the mythology. (Also—Alioth looks like a giant dog. And Fenrir’s role in Ragnarok was devouring the world—I realize this is a reach but am I the only person seeing this connection?) The thing I really can’t predict is the motivation. What would cause a Loki to want to prevent Loki’s from changing? Was there something that happened in the sacred timeline this Loki is trying to preserve? (I also like the idea of us maybe seeing another version of Sylvie behind it all, but I’m just going to leave that rabbit hole alone. )

But here’s the theory I can’t stop thinking about. There’s a theory floating around tik tok (by user twelvepercentcredit) saying the ‘castle’ we see beyond Alioth looks like a place called the House of Ideas, something that appeared in a (discontinued?) Loki comic. Here’s the wiki page on it. Just looking at the imagery of this compared to the location we’re seeing in the trailers, it’s too similar to be a coincidence. The huge bookshelves, the towering ceilings.

Here’s a description from the wiki:

“The House of Ideas is also home to a library which archives the exploits of every hero who has ever existed in the form of books, written unconsciously by the collective minds of their believers. This collection is curated by Now and Then, two of the children of Eternity. Now and Then routinely seek out heroes to bring into the House of Ideas to bargain with them and give their collections more pages, therefore more time for adventures and exploits. “

And later on the page on how Loki ties in:

“Heeding the desire in Loki's heart to do more with his life, Now and Then approached Loki and brought him to the House of Ideas,[5] where they struck up with him the deal to give more pages to his collection of exploits, rewriting the Books of Loki with a hero's stories in exchange for an eventual hero's death.”

Are they gonna play with the exact happenings of this? I don't know, but it sounds pretty cool!

It would be gutsy to go this route with the show given how meta it is, but I love the idea of it. Would they put characters that embody the abstract ideas of “Eternity” “Now & Then” into the show in the last episode? I’m not sure. Something I could see as a possibility though is an alternate version of Loki having overthrown whoever was previously guarding the timeline, and Loki and Sylvie will have to take them down in turn, thus ‘releasing’ the multiverse to its default, chaotic state.

What if our Loki’s ultimate destiny, ultimate Glorious Purpose, is to release the timelines--restoring all the variants back to their original timelines--and remain in this place for eternity, guarding the timeline and ensuring the multiverse is allowed to exist in its natural state? It seems a pretty fitting role for the God of Chaos. It would also explain why whoever’s behind the TVA would be so desperate to eliminate all variant Loki, if that was his ultimate destiny.

It would be an effective way to remove Hiddleston’s Loki from the movie-verse without killing him, AND place both Sylvie and any other Loki variants back in the the main timeline for use in future films—which we know has to happen somehow, because Young Avengers is definitely happening, and Kid Loki has got to get out of the void somehow.

And yea, this outcome would hurt like a bitch. Because even though that would truly be a lovely glorious purpose for our Loki, he’d be alone. And the whole point of this show is that he doesn’t have to be alone! It would be a very poetic sacrifice for him to take on the burden of watching over the timelines alone for all eternity so that his other variants could be the best versions of themselves, but I really just want him to be happy. I will be crying my eyes out if this happens. I’ll be proud but I won’t be okay.

And this all is probably speculative nonsense and could go off in an entirely different direction. Who knows. All in all, I just really want to see Loki fully believe in himself and his ability, to truly absorb what he said about being stronger than he realizes, and to take control of his destiny.

WHAT I WANT (NEED) FROM EPISODE 6:

Let Hunter B-15 and Mobius team up to burn the place to the ground. She was nerfed in the time-keeper fight, I want to see B-15 kick some ass.

I kind of want Ravonna to escape and be a character that carries over into the films for her tie-ins with Kang? I want to see more of her.

Give Loki a new badass costume. I’m begging. If he’s gonna go down, he deserves to go down in something other than khakis.

And then I want to see him and Sylvie fighting side by side in matching outfits.

I want a Mobius-level hug between them. Or a kiss. Or both. But I want the hug more. And you know what? I want her to initiate the hug or kiss or whatever it is because I want Loki to experience receiving love and affection from others as much as giving it. He deserves it ok??

I expect Mobius on a jet ski in the post credits and if I don’t get it I riot

@marvel these are my demands.

As always, if you've made it this far I'd love to hear your thoughts!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #459

“i wanted you to know that i love the way you laugh  /  i wanna hold you high and steal your pain away”

Does the person you like have any flaws? He's never seemed very expressive of what he feels. Has anyone ever given you a ring? Why? Yes. Because it was our anniversary and he wanted to, ig. If you ruled your own country, what type of government would it have? I'm not educated enough to answer this. Creation theory, Evolution or the Big Bang theory? I really don't know what I believe about the origins of the universe, but I do believe in evolution. Describe one of your most emotional farewells. The last time I saw Jason and we talked for a long time, and I finally got my closure. It was all so heavy. It started so stiffly, but it ended with us just chatting and smiling and, to my absolute shock, a hug from him. I'm getting emotional so NEXT QUESTION. What was your last serious conversation about? I was reassuring and comforting Sara about some stuff. Is there a city that you have a particular fondness for? If so, what city is it and why? No. Are there any gnomes in your yard? No. When was the last time you were stung by a bee? What kind was it? Years ago. A bumblebee. Are you gonna buy lottery tickets when you’re old enough? I am old enough, and no. The odds are way, way too small, and I don't really dabble in addictive behavior. Have you ever been into a real cave? No. :( That's a life goal, though. Have you ever posted mean comments on YouTube? I know I did once as a kid. It was regarding Meerkat Manor and I thought it was really disrespectful to Flower just because of the music chosen lmao. The drama. What color is your digital camera, if you have one? Black. If you had to spend one day in any movie storyline, which one would it be? Alice in Wonderland, I suppose? Name the strangest game you’ve ever played (video game or real game): Oh man, I've played waaaaay too many video games. I suppose Silent Hill with how confused it left me at first. Its concept is definitely wild. Parasite Eve is high on the list, too. In your opinion, what is the saddest movie you’ve ever seen? Boy in the Striped Pajamas destroys me. What is the best song to make out to? I could answer this but I'm not gonna lmfao Is there anyone right now that you are simply/overly infatuated with? story of my life ayyyyeeeee Who was the last person to play with your hair? Are they cute? Not a clue. Who was the last person close to you that died? Did you cry? Jason's mom. I sobbed on-and-off for days. Do you consider yourself a healthy person? Physically and mentally? No, in either way. Do you know anyone who owns a boat? My dad does. I'm sure others, too, with how popular fishing out on a boat is here. Do you know anyone who uses medical marijuana? I don't know. Even for medicinal purposes, it's not legal here. Do you know anyone who’s died in childbirth? No. What did you do for your 21st birthday? I was in the psych hospital, so... lmao. Therapy, reading, and coloring. Lots of reading and coloring. Because they did NOT fill your schedule enough there. We only had two group therapy sessions a day, and the rest was just... blankness. If dinosaurs could be tamed, would you want one as a pet? I know I'd be one of the dumb ones that absolutely wanted a tiny raptor, lol. Do you own more than one copy or edition of a book? No. If you could see any musical on Broadway right now, what would it be? Not interested. Do you eat soup when you’re sick? I don't like soup. If you read, which book or series did you enjoy most as a child? My first real series that I read religiously was Hank the Cowdog. Then it was Warriors. Do you buy Halloween candy when it’s on sale after the holiday? No. I really don't need candy available to me. Do you agree with the “they’re just being kids” excuse? It depends on what they're doing. In a lot of cases, no. Do you ever watch talk shows? No. Do you have a/any hero(s)? Mark Fischbach, Steve Irwin, my mom... Have you told your parents all of your secrets from when you were a teen? No. Though Mom has playfully once told me that she knows a lot of things I don't think she does, and that's terrifying lmao. You’re getting married. Who’s your maid of honor and best man? M.o.H.: Mom or Sara. Best man isn't my choice. Would you rather get highlights or dye your whole head? DYE IT ALLLLLLL. Are you wearing anything of any sentimental value? Describe? My friendship ring w/ Sara. It has a heart carved on the outside and "bitch" engraved inside so no one can see when you have it on, lol. She has one that says "jerk." It's a Supernatural reference. Who challenges you the most? In what way? My therapist and psychiatrist. They just help ensure I pursue my goals and give me little nudges forward to reassure me. Who seems to hold you back? In what way? PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT ME. I listen to my anxiety WAY too much. What was the last opportunity that you passed up, and why? Going up to Lake Gaston w/ Mom to visit Ash and her fam. They go there all the time, and it's a real nice place. I just didn't want to go because of the heat. Should there be an application process for having children? Hunny, that would not stop people from fuckin lmfao Name one thing that you think defines you as a person? m e e r k a t s What is a fear you have about living on your own? That depression would get the better of me and I'd neglect taking good care of my house. One of the many reasons I'll never live alone. Not at all saying I'd leave the responsibilities to my partner, but they'd be motivation for me to get stuff done. What’s the worst name your mom has ever called you? I don't know. Nothing that bad. What’s your stance on spooning? It helps me feel safe and loved and alsdkfjalwe I just love cuddling in all sorts lmao What’s your most recent obsession? Violet Orlandi & Melodicka Bros' cover of "Somebody That I Used to Know." Have you ever been scammed? Ha ha, yes. I once wanted to get Jason a Joker and Harley Quinn pillow from deviantART; talked to the artist, paid 'em, never got it. :^) Have you ever fostered an animal? No. I would get WAY too attached to foster. I wouldn't be able to give them up without breaking down, probs. Do you know anyone who acts way younger than what they are? I'm sure I do, but no one is coming to mind atm. Would you say you’re a pretty independent person? God no. Does the last song you listened to, remind you of someone? JASON. Do you currently want a new computer? Yes, actually. I want a desktop PC for better gaming quality, honestly. Also, the "escape" key doesn't work on this laptop, one key is missing so I have to hit the sensor JUST right, and it restarts randomly sometimes. I want a PC mainly because I want to get out of the habit of being on my laptop in bed all damn day. How would your parents react if you got a tattoo? I already have like six or seven, so they wouldn't be surprised. Is there anyone you can picture yourself being with forever right now? Maybe. Who is your truest friend? Sara. What is the strangest thing you’ve ever seen outside of your house? THIS house? Idk. Nothing that I'd consider odd. What bug frightens you most? STAG BEETLES lkadjslkfja;lwekjawl;kejrlawer Who is your oldest friend? That would be Sam, and he's in his mid-30s. How long have you known them? Many years. We met via WoW, which I've been playing since '14. I don't really remember how far into it we met, though. Where are they right now? lol I wouldn't know, he's all the way in Jersey. Plus we haven't talked in a while. Have you ever dated a friend of one of your siblings? God no, that would be so weird. What is the best gift someone can give you? An ear to listen without it feeling like a chore to them. Have you ever dated someone who had a child? No. I don't think I could do it. What is the last movie that made you cry? The The Lion King remake made me tear up. Have you ever played in a waterfall? No. Ugh, that sounds like a blast. In your life who has meant the most to you? Let's not get into this. What has been your biggest failure in life? Letting depression and my other conditions take away my identity, becoming my new identity. Do you trust yourself? No. I second-guess EVERYTHING and never know what I should listen to: my heart, my head, my gut... or which voice is what. Would you ever consider getting an abortion, under any circumstances? Yes. What was the last bug you killed? Some kind in the bathroom. Idk what it was. Just a little thing that sort of resembled an earwig, but not completely. Do you prefer profile pictures by yourself of with someone else? By myself, since it's my page. Do you know anyone who has written a book? I don't think so? Do you drink milk/juice from the carton if no one is around? Ew, no. I live with another person, and even if I didn't, what if I had guests? Has anyone ever told you they liked you in a realllly sweet way? Maybe? Has a member of the opposite sex ever given you jewlery? Jason has. Do you find sleeping in cars easy? NOOOOOOOOOO. I'm too scared to let my eyes close and not see what's going on on the road. Has a boyfriend’s/girlfriend’s parents ever gotten mad at you? Why? I don't believe so, no. What is the funniest thing a child has ever said to you. Definitely something my niece has said, but idr what it was. What’s been on your mind lately? Y'all know, lol. Do you feel like you need to get something off your chest? No. Sara was recently there for that. ♥ How would you react if someone told you they had feelings for you? Be very very excited if it was from a certain person.

[polygarnstars]

facts about me that you could state to my face that would hurt more than that ask did

I own three copies of Okami HD, and have beaten exactly zero of them

I paid $40 for Balan Wonderworld, knowing full well that any enjoyment I drew from it as a game would be ironic, and I plan to spend another $10 on the novel so I can be mad about the fact that approximately two percent of the story actually made it into the game

I played Kingdom Hearts as a kid and was attracted to Zexion, and given I am currently attracted to another edgy squenix bastard with emo hair in the form of Therion Octopathtraveler, my taste has apparently not changed since I was ten

I played Sonic 06 and thought it wasn’t terrible

I learned and did a partial speedrun of PMD Red Rescue Team for the sake of getting on someone else’s Let’s Play of the remake

I tried streaming once, only to have to stop because my capture card ate my sound card

The last week and a half of my Spotify history is comprised almost entirely of the Persona 5 soundtrack and various covers of those songs

I’m a furry who can’t even decide on his own fursona’s species or design

I spend so much time reading Nuzlockes, challenge runs of Pokemon games, games for children, I was brought on as staff of the official forums

I do the aforementioned work as Nuzforums staff knowing full well that it is a volunteer position while I am unemployed in real life

I watched the Kirby anime as a kid instead of doing my schoolwork. Years later, I plan to rewatch it in its entirety instead of seeking employment

I voted for Bandana Waddle Dee in the Smash Ballot

On that topic, I’m a Kirby main! I played through the entirety of World of Light using only Kirby! Like, I love Kirby, but who the fuck mains him unironically like that? I don’t even do that strat of succing your opponents and spitting them out over the blast zone where they can’t recover or taking them down with you, like, cmon

I was in anime club in high school

Despite owning it, I’ve never played Among Us, but I still watch other people play it regularly

I didn’t realize the Guardians of Ga’hoole series was a WW2 allegory until I read the TV Tropes page in high school

I got into Kingdom Hearts for the Final Fantasy stuff, and yet to this day the only Final Fantasy game I’ve ever beaten was the DS rerelease of Final Fantasy III

I 100%ed Breath of the Wild less than three weeks after it released, and proceeded to help various streamers do the same, because I had literally nothing better to do with my time

As a teenager I uploaded two mashups, one of All Star and In The End, the other of All Star and Lonely Rolling Star, to YouTube because in the summer the only device I had to get online with was a Nintendo 3DS, I wanted to be able to listen to them year round, and my 3DS would not play Soundcloud uploads

I’m currently making a mashup of the Balan Wonderworld credits theme and Wonderwall

I think Pokemon peaked in Gen V and I trust Spike Chunsoft with the series more than I trust modern GameFreak

I have owned literally every Animal Crossing game except Amiibo Festival, but I do still own Amiibo from the sets released for it

I’m still waiting for Pikmin 4!

I’m still waiting for another real Chibi-Robo sequel!

I’ve still not beaten the prior games in the series despite owning them, but I’m still waiting for Bayonetta 3!

I dip dill pickle spears in chocolate pudding Snack Packs and I enjoy it

I know all the lyrics to the opening of Pichu Bros. in Party Panic, that anime special that was viewable exclusively on Pokemon Channel

I plan to romance Ann in my first playthrough of Persona 5 Royal purely for the sake of cucking the cat. I do not plan to do this because I dislike Morgana, but simply because I think it would be funny

I say KEKW, Pog, OMEGALUL, and Sadge in real life, with my actual human mouth

I have spent money on microtransactions for mobile games

I bought well over a dozen packs of the Unbroken Bonds Pokemon TCG expansion in an attempt to obtain a rainbow rare Reshiram & Charizard GX. I found zero of them

Until earlier today, when I cleaned out my drawers of old clothes I no longer wear, I owned two Big Bang Theory shirts. Instead of burning them like a reasonable person, I donated them to my local Goodwill for some other poor fool to find

At the age of 23, I still cannot swim

I’ve gotten used to every other bug in my house, including the bees in the walls and the stinkbugs who refuse to just stay outside, but whenever I see a silverfish I consider committing arson

I collect dice but do not play D&D or any other TTRPG, I just think they’re neat

I’m too physically weak to take apart a PS4 controller

I haven’t ridden a bike in a decade, and at this point if I tried I would probably fall over or ride uncontrollably into the street and be hit by a car

I still have art on my wall of a Pokemon character I made in sixth grade at the absolute latest

I buy sketchbooks despite not drawing traditionally literally ever

I cannot draw on a normal tablet, because I look at my hands instead of the screen, and so I had to buy a 2-in-1 laptop to do art

I bite my nails

I compulsively pluck the hairs from my legs

Despite compulsively plucking the hairs on my legs, I cannot be bothered to do the same for the ones that have grown into a unibrow

When I was a child a goose whacked me with its wing

I’ve been bitten by two dogs, one of which bit me twice

Despite domesticated animals hating me, I’m the world’s worst Disney Princess, having taught a grey catbird to recognize Zelda music and having watched the entirety of Avatar the Last Airbender with a baby mourning dove perched in the bush outside the window watching with me

I spell grey grey instead of gray despite being American

I’m American

I’m still on tumblr in 2021

do with this information as you will

[whimsimmortal]

Plot Bunny

Wow, I’m alive! And posting fanfiction on tumblr, as if I have any idea what I’m doing!! Please check it out on AO3, where I am actually capable of navigating the website: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27441853

Plink. Another small, innocuous sound scarcely registered past Danny’s homework-induced stupor. It could have been a stray raindrop or a kamikaze bug. He had more important things demanding his attention; namely, the book report due tomorrow. This was at least the fifth time he’d rewritten the same paragraph. Words had lost all meaning to him by this point, but he was so close to finishing.

Tip-tap. Clonk, the noise emitting from the bedroom window insisted. He glared suspiciously towards the disturbance, envisioning ethereal arrows or blob ghosts intent on breaking in. He hadn’t sensed anything ghostly nearby, but given his luck, the paranoia was usually warranted. Emitting a groan from the depths of his soul, he rose from his desk to inspect the noise. He spared a second to stretch and shake the pins and needles out of his fingers, trying to wake up. Just in case it was something serious, y'know. Tink. “Alright, jeez, I’m coming,” he muttered, pulling back his curtain.

There weren’t any ghosts, of course. That was somewhat of a relief, even if going down swinging  was preferable to succumbing to a failing high school education. The early sunset gleamed amber off the windows across the street, and the sky was clear, except for— chink— the pebbles bouncing off his window. A lone kid was standing on the sidewalk below, no older than eight or nine. He looked vaguely familiar. He was pulling his arm back to throw more stones and bawling his eyes out.

Danny yanked open the window, sliding up the screen to fully stick his head out. His core vibrated, unsettled. There wasn’t any obvious danger, and the kid didn’t look hurt. Where were his parents? Why was he here? “Hey! What’s wrong, buddy? Are you okay?”

“You, you, you,” the kid tried to start, but great hiccupping sobs interrupted him. He scrubbed his face with his fists, obviously trying to regain his composure. “You’ve gotta send the ghost hero out!”

Danny jerked back, unintentionally smacking the back of his skull on the underside of the window. Well, now he was awake. What? “Uh, a ghost? Here? No, there isn’t—I can’t—what are you talking about?”

The boy was right up against the side of the house now, sniffling loudly and staring straight up at Danny with wide, sad eyes. “Please?” He whined, winding his hands up in the fabric of his sweater nervously.

Well, now he was stuck. Some random kid was going to out his whole identity, but the urge to help was almost overwhelming. “I can’t—there can’t be any ghosts here, but give me a second and I can just come down?” He offered. “Do you want me to find your parents?”

“Noooo!” The kid wailed and stomped his foot, banging on the wall with his tiny fists. “Don’t lie to me! I’ve seen the superman ghost go in there! Let him out! I need him!!”

Oh, crap, someone was going to hear. This kid’s parents were going to freak out, or his own parents were going to notice, and what if they took that kind of claim seriously? Shoot. Literally. He chuckled nervously. “Hey, hey, shhh, okay! You win! I’ll, uh, summon him, or something! But you have to be quiet, or you’ll, y’know, scare him off.” The child nodded solemnly, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve and stifling his sobs.

Danny ducked back behind the curtain, gracelessly crumpling to sit with his back against the wall. He ran his hands through his hair. He’d been seen? When? He’d tried so hard to be careful, and use invisibility whenever he was close to the house. Maybe he’d gotten lazy. Maybe, sometimes, he let the promise of sleep take priority over precautions. Stupid.  He smacked the palm of his hand into his forehead, frustrated. How long had this kid known? Who else had he told? He couldn’t just scare him into silence, he was too little. That was just messed up, he’d give him nightmares or something.

He wasn’t going to figure anything out by sitting here moping. He triggered the transformation, the familiar prickling electric feeling swiftly replaced by the soothing cold. He turned to peek over the edge of the window, checking for anyone else around. It was still just the same kid, kicking at a pebble on the concrete while he waited.

He floated down slowly, not wanting to startle his impromptu visitor, who turned and saw him as he touched down. The little guy gasped, forgotten tears slipping away from unblinking eyes.

“Hi there,” Danny prompted gently. “Were you looking for me?”

The kid kept ogling, mesmerized, and a few seconds passed by before he could shake himself out of it. “Wow, you’re the real superhero guy,” he whispered reverently.

Oh. That was pretty cute, actually. He couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, that’s me. You can call me Phantom,” he offered.

“I’m Wyatt,” the kid mumbled, covering his damp cheeks with his hands shyly. He tipped his head down, still staring through his eyelashes.

A neighbor’s front door opened down the street, and Danny swiftly disappeared. Wyatt startled, blindly swinging his hands back and forth through the seemingly-empty space. “Wait! Come back!” He recoiled with a yelp when his blundering reach made contact with the specter.

“It's okay, I’m right here,” he reassured the kid. “But we can’t let people know I’m here, okay? They’ll—um. I’ll get in trouble.”

Wyatt squinted, reaching forward again. Danny offered his hand, and the little fingers gripped his glove tightly. He looked like he was offering the empty air a fist bump. “Right,” the kid agreed earnestly.

“Seriously,” Danny pressed. “You can’t tell anyone that I li-” he bit his tongue. Don’t say ‘live’. That’s so dumb. “Uh. Hang out here sometimes. Not even your friends, okay? Promise?”

Wyatt’s little dark eyebrows drew together, and despite his trembling chin and small stature, he looked profoundly serious. He shook the hand. “I promise.”

Well, that would have to do for now. “Thanks. Uh, what did you need me for?”

The kid’s eyes immediately started to well up again, but he squeezed Danny’s fingers and pressed his lips to put on a brave face. “C’mon, Phantom, you’ve gotta-” he sniffed. “You gotta save Fuzzy,” he warbled, turning and pulling. The ghost floated behind like a balloon on a string as the pair stepped down from the curb, heading across the street.

Oh, man, if this was about a dead pet, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. That was closer to Jazz’s expertise. He swallowed his mounting dread. “Who’s Fuzzy?”

Wyatt’s face scrunched up. “He’s my bunny,” he explained, looking away. “I was just tryin’ to show ‘im to Audrey, and—and then,” he sobbed. “He went under the house! And he’s gonna get lost and stuck, and I’m-, never-, gonna see him ever again!” He let go, burying his face in his hands and howling.

Danny rested a hand lightly on Wyatt’s little shoulder, throat tight. He’d never had a pet like that, but he could understand the fear of losing loved ones a little too well, and empathy always felt more forceful when he was in ghost form. Probably something related to ectoplasm being shaped by residual emotional energy, blah blah ecto-science theory. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him.”

The unusual duo walked two more houses down the block and cut through a side yard to a modest backyard, strewn with outdoor toys and an overturned wire fence—likey an outdoor pen for Fuzzy. An even younger girl sat on the paved patio, chewing on the end of her braid. She leaped up as they drew close. “Wyatt! I told my dad about Fuzzbutt, and he’ll call the—um, animal people. But they’re not here yet. Did you find him?”

Wyatt glanced a little to Danny’s left with a guilty expression. Well, crap, so much for his secret. He bit his lip, trying to keep his cool. First things first. A cursory scan of the area didn’t show anyone else in the immediate vicinity, so he faded back into visibility. The little girl—‘Audrey’, he guessed—gave a muffled shriek. “Ghost man!”

“Hush,” Wyatt scolded, voice quavering. “He’s a secret.”

“Oh,” Audrey whispered back. “Hello, mister normal guy man. I think you’re cool.” She beamed up at him.

“Hello, small ordinary human,” Danny quipped, and Audrey giggled delightedly. Wyatt dropped to his hands and knees, crawling up to the house, where a gap between the foundation and dirt was evident. The other two peeked over his shoulder, but there wasn’t any bunny visible past the darkness.

“Fuzzy,” Wyatt choked out. “Hang in there, we’re gonna rescue you!”

Danny turned intangible, letting his molecules seep down through the dirt past the level of his nose. He drifted close to the base of the house, juicing up the glow from his eyes. “Just wait here, okay?” Two grim, round little faces nodded back, and with that minor assurance, he delved beneath the house.

The weight of the floor above loomed. It was claustrophobic, like being buried… well, half-alive. The musty, dank mildew smell was gross, even though he wasn’t breathing. He could taste it. “Here, bunny, bunny,” he muttered. Please don’t be hurt.

A tiny pair of eyes reflected green through the gloom. The little ball of fluff was backed into a corner, and it snorted like a tiny angry bull, stomping its feet. Danny hadn’t even known rabbits could make that sound. It probably didn’t like his creeping, unnatural aura, like most rational animals. “Shhh,” he cooed, reaching for the tiny, grubby ball of fluff and dimming his glow. “I’m not gonna hurt ya.”

Fuzzbutt wasn’t convinced. In a courageous move, it darted through Danny’s forehead, wedging itself under a crooked board and squealing. Danny reached easily through the plank and wrapped his hands around the unhappy creature, sharing his intangibility. It writhed and fussed, trying to bite through his gloves. “Stop that!” He clutched it close to his chest; if he dropped it here, the stubborn thing really would be stuck. He swooped back out into the backyard, startling the anxiously waiting kids.

Audrey shrieked and tipped over. Wyatt recovered first, leaping to his Velcro-sneakered feet expectantly. “Is he okay?”

Danny recovered a more solid form, holding up the wiggling rabbit. Wyatt gasped, fresh tears glittering on his eyelashes. He reached out for the beloved pet, unable to contain his joy at the reunion. “Fuzzy! You’re okay! I love you, Fuzzy!”

“Let’s go inside first, so he doesn’t get away again?” Danny suggested. The last thing anyone needed was an instant replay. Audrey darted to open the back door, and Wyatt led the way inside. He sat on the wooden floor with open arms, and as soon as the door was firmly shut again, Danny deposited the squirming animal into his lap. Fuzzy looked marginally more content to receive numerous sloppy kisses from his adoring owner. He was actually a pretty cute little guy, black and white like a panda.

Even footsteps padded around the corner. “Wyatt, baby? Did you find-” the woman’s question cut off abruptly as she noticed the glowing stranger in her living room.

Crud. At this rate, the whole block was going to find him out before the week was up. He edged back a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, I was just, um,” darn it, wrong persona. He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “Doing my heroic duty, ma’am,” he finished in a falsely deep voice.

Audrey giggled (he didn’t sound that bad!), and the woman smiled nervously. Wyatt hopped to his feet, still cradling his bunny. “Mama! Look, he saved Fuzzy! I’m gonna rename him Fuzzy Phantom,” he declared.

Mama Wyatt dutifully stroked the bunny’s dusty ears. “Fuzzy Phantom needs a bath,” she commented, before looking back up to meet Danny’s eyes. She held out her clean hand, and it took him a second to recognize the offered handshake. He started to reach back, thought twice about his messy glove, and hastily peeled it off to shake her hand. Her fingers were delicate, but they didn’t falter at the chill. “You look taller on the TV,” she joked lightly. “It’s nice to meet you. Phantom, right?”

He nodded. “Uh, it was nice to meet you, too, Ms.-?”

“Sylvie Rosales,” she supplemented. Audrey snuck around her to flounce deeper into the house, taking the adult’s distraction as an invitation, and Wyatt started to follow her, but hesitated. He snuck a hand out around Fuzzy to tug on Danny’s arm, so he leaned down accommodatingly.

Wyatt stood on his tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Can I come see you sometimes?”

Oh, heck, no. That would be truly asking for disaster. “No,” he quickly replied, but before Wyatt’s pout could evolve into a true objection, he added, “but if you really don’t tell anyone how to find me, I could drop by sometimes.” He looked towards Ms. Rosales. “If that’s okay?”

Wyatt looked over to his mom pleadingly, stars in his eyes. What have I gotten myself into, Danny wondered, but he couldn’t help feeling charmed. Ms. Rosales looked like she was thinking along the same lines, with her thin-lipped smile and folded arms. “As long as you don’t cause any trouble,” she hedged.

“Thank you!!” Wyatt hugged Danny spontaneously, smushing his face into his shoulder. Fuzzy grunted his objection.

Danny ruffled the kid’s mop of hair. “I should get going. Take care of Fuzzy,” he grinned, pulling away. “And stay safe,” he added in his false baritone with a mock salute.

“You, too,” he heard Ms. Rosales call after him as he phased through the wall. He looped above the street once cheerfully before disappearing to sneak back home. He’d left his window open; rose-tinted light and a handful of moths had spilled onto his bedroom floor. This time, he didn’t reappear or turn back until he’d stealthily drawn the window and curtains closed.

He still had an hour or so to plug into his homework. He hummed as he started back in on the paragraph he’d been stuck on. It didn’t seem as daunting now, even with the lost time and near reveal. He’d have to keep an eye on his nosy little neighbor, but in the end, maybe it was the moments like today that made the whole gig worth it.

[thefandomlesbian]

We’re All Born Naked (The Rest Is Drag)

Summary: A series of crimes at a gay club leaves the BAU scrambling for a way to locate the unsub before they have another victim. After a surprising revelation about Spencer, he's assigned duty on stage--performing as a drag queen so he has the opportunity to spot the killer from above. While undercover with Hotch, feelings develop.

Read it here on AO3!

...

“We're all born naked, and anything anybody wears at any time is drag.” -Tede Matthews

…

The heady air of the club before it opened collected in thick clouds around the team. Hotch spoke with the owner a few yards away from the others. Spencer watched their conversation, unable to hear what they said, but understanding from the exchange of nods that they were making some kind of deal regarding the club and its patrons.

For the past three weeks, every Friday night, a man from this club had gone missing and turned up disemboweled two days later.

Tonight, they intended to catch him in the act.

Hotch left the owner and approached the rest of the team. Spencer fidgeted with the sleeves of his shirt. In a few minutes, the club would be opening, and he wanted to be far out of here before people began to arrive. It wasn’t a risk he wanted to take. JJ shot him a sideways glance. “You alright, Spence?” He nodded.

Hotch inclined his eyebrows as he stopped in front of them. “The owner has agreed to let us bug the place. Reid, you’re undercover with me.”

Spencer gulped. “Er—I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Hotch frowned. He kept fidgeting with his sleeves. “I’m… not sure that’s something I can do.” Defying a direct order? He never did that. Hotch had told him, not asked; refusing wasn’t an option.

Morgan pursed his lips. “C’mon, man, what gives? You fit the type. You’re gonna be a lot more helpful on the ground than the rest of us.”

“I know, I just—I have certain concerns that my ability to do this may, uh, may be compromised.”

Emily cocked her head. “Reid, are you… homophobic? ”

“No!” Spencer bristled. “No, I’m not homophobic, I just am worried about certain things—”

“What kind of things?”

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but across the dance floor called a familiar voice, “Spencer!” that sent cold chills running down his spine. He closed his jaw with a quiet click and closed his eyes, willing the voice to go away, but it didn’t, and he could hear footsteps trotting up behind them. This kind of thing. Peter propped up an arm on Spencer’s shoulder. “Hey, buddy! I thought you said you had to work tonight! Listen, you are gonna be so excited— Damien B is back in town. Remember the last time he was here, I was too drunk to walk, so you went up to him and tucked that wad of cash into his G-string for me? Best night ever! Plus, the drag race is on. Are you gonna roll again? Runner up last time—you’ve got a real shot.” I wish I were the unsub’s last victim. Peter’s excitable grin did not fade as he looked up at the rest of the team. “And you got us some newcomers! C’mon.” He nudged Spencer pointedly. “Introduce me to your friends!”

Some part of Spencer prayed that if he willed it hard enough, the floor would open up and swallow him whole. He reluctantly opened his eyes, gauging the expressions on each of his teammates’ faces, ranging from shock and horror to Hotch’s completely impassive poker face (Spencer was quite grateful at least one of them had the grace to look like himself). He opened his mouth again, and again, Peter interrupted him. “Oh, who’s this tall drink of water?” He pushed into the circle of the BAU and brushed both of his hands down Hotch’s arms. Peter smirked and winked. “Who’s your daddy, big guy?”

Oh, please don’t hurt him, and please don’t hurt me. If he hadn’t been paralyzed to the spot, Spencer might’ve had the willpower to turn away and run, run out of the club, down the street, to the bus stop, and take the city bus all the way to Canada where he would change his name and never return. He cleared his throat. He could not move. That meant he had to speak. “Peter, these are… my… colleagues. We are working a case here.”

“Oh.” Peter blinked somewhat surprised. Then, he withdrew from Hotch. “Well, this one can arrest me any time. ” Spencer’s entire face and neck flushed maroon. “I’m Peter! Nice to meet you guys.”

Emily was the first to find her words. “So you two are…” She gestured between them with her index finger.

Peter’s eyes widened. “Us? Oh, no, ma’am. We’re just the twinks who have to try to find a ouija board to summon the top we both need. Right, Spencer? Up top!” Peter lifted up his hand. Spencer merely stared at his palm. “Oh, don’t leave me hanging!”

Hotch coughed, interrupting the shame circulating between all of them. “Thank you, Peter, but we really need to resume our investigation.”

“Oh, sure, sure. I’m gonna be hovering around the bar all night—and your drinks are on me.” Peter pointed at Hotch, and then he swung around and trotted back toward the bar.

Spencer released a long, pent-up sigh. “That. That’s my concern.”

Silence followed. Finally, JJ broke it. “You’re gay? ”

“Mhm.”

“Called it,” Rossi said, speaking for the first time in a few minutes. Spencer’s belly did a sick flip. “Morgan, you owe me.”

Emily tilted her head. “Were you ever going to tell us?”

“Honestly? No, I wasn’t.”

Morgan countered, “I don’t owe you anything. I called Emily, remember? We’re even now.”

JJ blinked incredulously. “You guys are taking bets on who’s not straight?”

“Yeah, princess, and my money says you and Emily bang it out before the end of the year,” Morgan countered. JJ’s cheeks flushed as red as Spencer’s.

Emily piped up, “So Rossi does owe you.” Morgan fist-pumped.

“Can we get back to work?” Hotch interrupted pointedly. Everyone fell silent and fell in line, looking back toward him. “Reid, you’re not on the floor anymore.”

Rossi snorted. “That’d be a bad idea. He might end up at the glory holes.”

Hotch shot Rossi a dark warning glance. Spencer flushed with warmth, but then Hotch continued, “I have a better idea.” His gaze swept the room, the flyers on the wall, taking heed of the layout, the speakers, the stage, the bar. “You’re on stage. You’ll have the best vantage point of the whole club from up there. You’ll see more than any of us can from the floor. Drag show starts at nine. Get dressed.”

I wish I were dead.  

…

In a skin-tight dress, five inch heels, and a poofy blonde wig, Spencer crossed his arms and stood beside the foot of the stage. The crowd had packed into the room. I deserve a raise for this. He looked up as Hotch parted the crowd, coming up to him. Hotch hadn’t changed, and frankly, he didn’t look like he belonged, with his suit and his tie and his too-nice shoes.

“I didn’t exactly ask if you were okay with this.”

Spencer shrugged. “Less okay things have happened. This is something I’ve done before.” He hadn’t expected his team to ever know about it, nor would he have wanted them to, but now that they did… well, at least he could catch a killer.

Hotch gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, so have I.” What? Spencer wanted to ask. How? Why? “You have a smudge in your lipstick. Hold still.” Hotch licked his thumb and wiped at it, framing Spencer's face between his two large hands, and Spencer's words died in his throat, unable to make a sound. The floodlights illuminated the room, casting Hotch's face in bright light and the rest of him in shadow, giving his hickory eyes an odd gleam, his brows drawn together as he worked at wiping away the smear of lipstick at the corner of Spencer's mouth.

When his hands pulled away, Spencer's belly flipped over. He somehow felt hot and cold at the same time. He parted his lips, wanting to ask something, wanting to say something, but he couldn't conceive of the correct words. “Um, thanks—” He tried to push the stammer out of his voice. He didn't think he succeeded.

The announcer called out, “Now introducing Miss Sparrow Wings!” and Hotch offered him a leg up, thrusting him onto the stage before he could ask another question.

Spencer’s heels clicked beneath him as he strolled down the runway. He had done this before, the costume makeup, the dress, the wig, everything—the performance and the anonymity that came with it was all part of the fun. But knowing that somewhere down there, Hotch watched him, gave him some strange and embarrassing thrill. The MC held out the microphone to him. I didn’t have time to prepare an act. The last time, he’d sung a song—badly, but still, it was better than it would’ve been if he had tried to do stand-up, which was his first choice when Peter talked him out of it.

Of course, he had public speaking skills. He could use them.

“Today, I’m going to talk to all of you about string theory.” The crowd cheered. Either they were too drunk to know what he had just said or they thought he was joking. “In summary, string theory is the framework in which the point-like particles of physics are replaced by one-dimensional objects known as strings. String theory describes how these strings propagate through space and interact with one another.” This time, they did not cheer. They mumbled in confusion. “On distance scales larger than the string scale, a string looks just like an ordinary particle, with its mass, charge, and other properties determined by the vibrational state of the string. In string theory, one of the many vibrational states of the string corresponds to the graviton, a quantum mechanical particle that carries gravitational force. Thus string theory is a theory of quantum gravity.”

He scanned the crowd, ignoring the ones sloshing beer at his feet. They had a profile to work with. The man they were looking for would hang back from the main crowd and charm the lone wolves he spotted, the ones whose friend groups had abandoned them, and eventually lead them away. He would not be among the men popping molly crowded around the front of the stage.

Hotch worked along the back walls, patrolling, failing to look inconspicuous. He chose a corner and hovered there with his arms crossed. A younger man approached him, grabbed him by the arm, and gestured in the direction of the glory holes. Spencer’s abdomen clenched with something—jealousy, perhaps?—at the sight, but he forced himself to tear his gaze away. He could not focus on Hotch right now. He was looking for a serial killer.

“Now, you may be asking yourself, how could something be one-dimensional? After all, everything we analyze in basic life is either three-dimensional—like me and you, like this feather boa—” Spencer took the feather boa off from around his neck and tossed it into the crowd. The guy who caught it stumbled and landed on his ass. “—and then there are things that are two dimensional, like the little heart patterns on my panties. You boys will see that if you’re lucky.” Like hell. It kept their attention, though, which was what he needed. “One dimensional objects exist in physics and mathematics. Like on a number line, every single spot on the number line can be indicated by a single digit.”

At the bar, he spotted Peter far below, chatting up the bartender. He sifted over the crowd with his eyes, eager to find anyone looking or acting suspicious. Anyone without friends, keeping to himself, watching the others too closely, approaching loners… There’s a handful of them down there. He spotted a tall man with dark hair clinging to the corner, sipping his own drink. This man wouldn’t be drinking. He wouldn’t compromise his own judgment. But there was every possibility he had a virgin drink to give the appearance of inebriation. It’s all part of the act. Spencer knew about the act.

“Now, the thing about these theoretical dimensions is that they’re difficult to conceive of without some kind of proof. Not easy to believe. But then again, tons of things are unbelievable…” Spencer flipped his wrists over and produced another feather boa, one that had been concealed under the jangly bands on his wrists. “If you believe in magic, the thing about theoretical physics is that everything is magical in its own right—because just like physics, magic always has a logical explanation.”

Spencer spilled a deck of cards over the floor from where he had hidden them. He watched the figure cross the floor to the bar, and he vanished into the crowd where Spencer could not spot him. Shoot. He couldn’t continue to track him like that. He checked the clock. Two more minutes. He could lecture about string theory for two more hours—but he preferred not to have to do it while he was working and appearing on stage in drag.

Running his mouth? That was his expertise.

When his time was over, he swung off the stage and headed toward the bar. Hotch intercepted him only a few steps through the crowd, pushing the surging men away from one another and away from Spencer. “What did you see?”

“Dark-haired white guy, wearing a blazer. He headed toward the bar and I lost him in the crowd.”

“He wouldn’t head into the crowd unless he’s chosen a victim.”

“Yeah, I know. Should we start canvassing?”

Hotch’s dark eyes darted around the room in the flashing lights. “No. If he spots us, he’ll startle and leave, and we’ll have lost our shot. We need to be discreet until we’re sure, and then get him away from this crowd. If we cause a panic, we’ll lose him.” Spencer’s eyes scanned Hotch’s face. “Let’s sit at the bar and wait for him.”

“Together?” Spencer questioned.

“You’re wearing six inch heels. You’re not exactly in position to give chase if we split up,” Hotch pointed out. Spencer mused on this, and then he nodded in agreement; he wouldn’t have very much luck making chase in these shoes, and he didn’t have a gun under this dress, or cuffs, either. Trying to apprehend a suspect in this getup would be ridiculous at best, downright dangerous at worst. He needed to stay with Hotch.

They sat side-by-side at the bar. Spencer reached up and disentangled the poofy, blonde, Dolly Parton-esque wig from his hair and let it fall to the counter with a dull thump. At the sight of it, Hotch gave a muted smile—or something Spencer could only describe as a smile. The disco lights reflected in his eyes, giving them a certain illustrious gleam which drew Spencer into their depths. “The wig suits you. You clean up well.” Clean up well? Spencer felt a lot of things right now, but clean wasn’t one of them. He sat in a seedy club with smoke clogging up the vents, too loud pop music, flashing lights that hurt his eyes, the stench of vomit and liquor and everything in between, and he wore an ill-fitting drag dress with six inch heels, gaudy costume makeup, and a heavy hot wig that someone else had certainly sweated in before him.

The whole thing struck Spencer as fairly bizarre—that Hotch offered him these compliments, the nature of them as a whole. Spencer wondered what, if anything, motivated him to speak in this way. If anything? Something had to be behind it. Hotch would never ordinarily speak to him this way. “Er, thanks,” Spencer said. “It gets really hot,” he admitted, “especially under the floodlights, and… well, this stuff isn’t mine, so I’m trying not to sweat in it.” He didn’t cart drag materials around to work with him in case he needed to go undercover; he’d borrowed everything from Peter, and lord knew who else Peter had loaned it out to over the years.

“I’m sure you wear it better than any of the other twinks that came before you.” Spencer’s face flushed at that. He fisted his hand in the wig on the table, trying to distract himself, and studied the men mulling behind them in the reflections of the glasses and the bottles as they passed by, trying to spot their subject. He went into the crowd around this area.

Every moment they sat here without seeing him was another moment of the possibility he had already chosen his victim, had already led him away, had already packed him up into his vehicle and driven him away to his final destination.

“See anything?” Spencer shook his head. Further down the bar, the distinct sound of Peter’s laughter crowed through the crowd, but Spencer couldn’t see him through the blur of people—nor did he particularly want to. Peter had already managed to humiliate him in front of Hotch once today (more than once, if he was being generous, since almost every word Peter had uttered had sunk Spencer to new depths of embarrassment), and Spencer didn’t care to repeat the event. “Tell me about your friend.”

Weird. Spencer knew they had to talk—they had to give the appearance that they were participating socially here. It wouldn’t look right if they sat here without speaking, and it could head someone off. “Peter? He’s… a lot.” Hotch could’ve asked him about anyone, and he asked him about Peter. Maybe… he’s interested in him? Spencer found that hard to believe, though; he found it difficult to think Hotch could ever be interested in someone like Peter. And besides, Peter had made it pretty clear that he was available for anything Hotch wanted. There was no need for Spencer to act as a liaison between the two of them. The mere thought made Spencer all hot and itchy and uncomfortable on the inside. “He’s not looking to settle down. He just wants to have as much fun as he can.” That was an accurate assessment of Peter.

“And you are? Looking to settle down.”

Spencer fidgeted with the jangly bracelets on his wrists. “Er… I don’t know. I don’t exactly have a settling down type of job, do I?” Hotch looked steadily back at him. This is a weird conversation. “I guess, if I found the right person… I just don’t see it happening, though.” What did Hotch have to gain from asking him these questions? They could’ve talked about anything and it would’ve kept up appearances. Even particle physics would’ve made Spencer more comfortable than he was right now, sharing intimate aspects of his personal life with Hotch at his request. I didn’t even want them to know I was gay.  

In a few short hours, he had gone from completely closeted to his entire team seeing him in drag from head to toe. He didn’t know how he felt about that yet. The ambivalence of the moment plagued him, the satisfaction from knowing he was doing something good to stop a killer, the shame… Oh, the shame. Logic told him he had nothing to be ashamed off, that being gay wasn’t a bad or embarrassing thing, that no one on the team would judge him, that their disparaging remarks were just jokes. But he didn’t want to face those disparaging marks anyway, no matter how teasing. And Morgan would undoubtedly dangle this over his head for the rest of his life, the moment when Sparrow Wings went on stage to spot a killer from above.

Hotch crossed his arms, resting his elbows on the counter in front of them. “You could’ve said something sooner,” he said.

“I know.” Spencer jangled his bracelets. “I didn’t want to.”

“Why not?”

He drummed his fingers on the counter and shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess… I guess JJ said it best, when she and Emily got together, that sometimes it’s easier not to have everyone up in their business. That we don’t really get to have secrets, so when there is something the rest of us don’t know about, it’s pretty sacred.” The rhythm of swinging the bands around his wrists grounded him in the moment. “And, I mean, Morgan is never going to let this go. He’s going to be making digs at me about this for the rest of our lives.”

Hotch inclined his eyebrows. “You’re right about that,” he confirmed grimly. “So you knew about JJ and Prentiss?”

Spencer nodded. “I was the only one who knew,” he said. “But… I didn’t know Rossi and Morgan were taking bets on, y’know, all of this.”

Hotch wore a somewhat grim look upon his face. “They still have one bet out on the rest of us.”

What? Spencer wanted to ask, and he jiggled his bracelets again, and finally, Hotch put his hand over Spencer’s wrist to still it and quiet the jingling. Spencer glanced down at where Hotch’s large hand covered his wrist. His stomach jumped and quivered at the sensation, the warmth of another skin pressing against his. The texture struck him, the roughness, the callouses on Hotch’s hands, the breadth of his grasp and his fingertips. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. He gulped, trying to remember how to breathe and how to speak, because suddenly both of those things seemed incredibly difficult. “Sorry—” His voice sounded strangled, and he wasn’t sure why he apologized—for making the noise that had irritated Hotch, for this weird reaction, for something else, and why was Hotch still touching him?

“Don’t apologize.” Spencer’s lighter eyes darted up to Hotch’s in the shadows of the club. His tongue flitted out across his lips, wetting them. What can I say? Words failed Spencer, and he could only think of something he wanted to do, something which Hotch would almost certainly reject—

There. In the reflection of the wine bottle to Hotch’s right, Spencer saw him. He spun on the barstool, and Hotch whirled around after him. Spencer didn’t point. The man walked right past them. His gaze flicked to Spencer, and he smiled and winked a coy thing, and then he continued through the crowd. “You think that’s our guy?” Spencer asked.

“Yes.” Hotch hopped up from the barstool. “Stay close to him. He’s still rounding the floor, so he hasn’t picked a target yet. We can’t take him until we have evidence of wrongdoing.”

Spencer nodded. The crowd made room for him to pass through; after all, he was five inches taller than normal and wearing a sequin-strewn dress which made it difficult for him to miss. He stuck the blonde wig back on his head so he didn’t have to drag it around in his hand, stuffing it over his hair. The unsub stalked up behind a handful of guys chatting at the bar. Spencer grabbed the empty table directly across from them so they could keep a close eye on him—they wouldn’t risk losing him among the ocean of people again. Spencer’s jaw shifted in discomfort. “If he sees me again, he’s going to know something’s up. I’m too recognizable like this. He’s going to realize we’re following him.”

“We have to risk it.”

From the distance, they could not hear the unsub’s words or see the men he approached, nothing more than their silhouettes, but within a few minutes, it became clear he had targeted one man. He eased this man away from the others, placing himself between him and the rest of the group, secluding him. He waved his hand to the bartender and placed an order, and then his arm reached around the man’s waist, trailing over the small of his back. The unsuspecting victim sidled up close beside the unsub. He turned his head into his embrace. The flashing strobe lights of the club illuminated the victim’s silhouette. Spencer’s eyes widened. The man tossed his head back and laughed a familiar, braying laugh. Spencer upstarted from his seat—

Hotch’s arm coiled around his waist and anchored him to the spot. “Don’t.”

“That’s Peter! ” Spencer’s heart clenched in his chest.

“He’s safe. We’re watching him. They won’t get out of our line of sight.” Spencer tried to wriggle out from under Hotch’s arm, which fit all too well around his waist, like something familiar, like something meant to be there, like hundreds of millions of years of evolution had transpired just to lead to this moment where Hotch’s arm was meant to fit around his middle and hold him there, almost pressing their bodies against one another. “If you go now, you’ll blow our cover, he’ll pick a different club, and we’ll have more victims before we have a chance to catch him again. Do you want that to happen?”

Reluctantly, Spencer settled down in his chair, his face and stomach both churning. Everything inside of him constricted like a snake, tense and hot. Hotch did not withdraw his arm. “We can’t let them get out of this building.”

“And we won’t.” Hotch was making a promise—Spencer understood that. He prayed it wasn’t a promise he was going to break. “Can I trust you not to fling yourself at them like Norman Bates wearing his mother’s clothes, or do I need to keep holding you in place?”

Spencer’s face flamed. He sucked his front teeth. “Maybe,” he said softly, “you can trust me…” Or maybe I like this, the way it is right now.  

“Maybe?” Hotch arched an eyebrow, daring Spencer to say something else.

Spencer held his gaze. He did not fold. Sparrow Wings, after all, did not fold. She was a powerful woman, and she wouldn’t buckle, no matter how Hotch stared at her, and she would have no problem telling him exactly what she wanted—but she also didn’t give a flying fuck if Spencer was still employed tomorrow, so Spencer had to make some executive decisions on how much he allowed her influence to take over right now. “Or maybe… I think this is good for our undercover act. Maybe I think we blend right in, like this.”

The scent of Hotch’s cologne wafted off of his body from the proximity between them. In spite of Spencer’s layers of clothes and the heavy makeup and that damn wig (he left it on now, in case he needed to make a run for it and didn’t want to leave it behind), he craved the warmth bleeding through Hotch’s suit, the heat metabolized by Hotch’s blood and tissues through every minute of every day. Spencer found it intoxicating.

He didn’t imbibe any longer, but if he wanted to get drunk on anything, he thought he would start with the scent of Hotch’s cologne.

“Is that so?” Hotch asked, and his words sounded almost like a dare. “This is good for being undercover?” Spencer nodded. “Is that all?”

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but the unsub began to turn, as if to glance behind him, and Spencer didn’t have a moment to think; at the first glimpse of movement, Hotch grabbed him, spun him around with his back to the unsub, and dragged him into a bruising, open-mouthed kiss. Spencer blinked hard, once, twice, This is a dream, this whole thing has been a weird dream, I’m going to wake up now and it’s going to make so much sense— Hotch’s hands intertwined in his wig, obscuring as much as his body from view as possible, and Spencer watched in the reflection of the wine glasses on the table as the unsub surveyed the room behind him and did not take note of Spencer, in spite of his colorful garb.

After all, two guys shoving their tongues down each other’s throats were pretty inconspicuous in the middle of a gay club.

The rough stubble from Hotch’s face scratched into Spencer’s, chin to chin, cheek to cheek. The unsub had turned around, but Hotch didn’t stop, molding Spencer’s mouth to his own like a potter over a lump of clay. Their tongues twisted and danced to the beat of the flashing lights and dropping bass, until Hotch pulled away and Spencer gasped for breath. His head spun. His limbs felt heavy. His stomach felt light. His head felt like butterflies had tossed out every piece of information he had ever known and now battered their wings against the inside of his skull, seeking a way out.

Arm around Peter’s back, the unsub pulled back from the bar, and they walked away from the bar, all wound up in one another. Hotch jumped up, hand wrapped around the inside of Spencer’s elbow, and jogged after them. “Do you know where they’re going?”

Spencer shook the delirium from the forefront of his mind. “Exit A, it’s the easiest way out without being spotted—”

“You stay on them, I’ll go around back, and we should be able to trap him.”

Before Spencer could say another word, Hotch vanished from sight, and Spencer trotted after the unsub and Peter, keeping them in his sights. He folded himself back between a pillar and the wall when the unsub glanced behind them, and when they rounded the corner, Spencer caught up to them, watching as they approached the exit.

The red lights from the sign marking the outlet illuminated their faces. “Before we go,” purred the unsub, “I’ve got a surprise for you.” He held his hands behind his back. Spencer spotted the refraction of light off of the blade of the knife he concealed. “Are you ready?” Peter nodded. “Close your eyes…”

“FBI!” Spencer ducked out from his hiding place in the shadows. “Put your hands up! You’re under arrest!” Hotch is right outside, he’s waiting right outside this door—

“Spencer, what the hell? We were just about to—” The knife clattered to the floor, and the door swung open. The unsub sprinted through the door out into the darkness of the night.

Spencer chased after him. “Stay right here!” he called over his shoulder to Peter.

The unsub vaulted himself over the railing of the short staircase and landed clumsily on the asphalt. Spencer hit the railing. He couldn’t climb over it—if he landed wrong in these shoes, he’d snap an ankle. Hotch rounded the corner. Spencer tore the shoes off his feet. “Where’s he going?”

Holding the heels in his left hand, Spencer jumped over the railing. “Around the block—you go that way, there’s an old plywood fence, he’ll come over that and meet you, I’ll stay behind him—”

His bare feet slapped the stony surface of the asphalt, kicking up old loose pebbles, splinters, and shattered glass, as again he and Hotch separated. In hot pursuit of the unsub, Spencer did not let the pain in his feet distract him. The shadow of the unsub up ahead circled the block, headed toward the fence, where Spencer had known he would try to climb to escape.

He flung himself up over the fence. Spencer stood there, watching him. From the other side, Hotch called, “FBI! Put your hands up!”

The unsub teetered there on top of the fence for a moment. He looked down at Hotch, then back at Spencer… and he dropped back onto Spencer’s side of the fence. Hotch discharged his weapon, but he missed. The bullet glanced off of the side of the brick wall beside them and ricocheted. Oh, shit. The unsub barreled toward Spencer.

Spencer didn’t have a weapon. He didn’t have handcuffs, or a taser, or a baton. He had himself, his wig, his bare feet, and the stilettos in his left hand—in his hand as he held up his hands to brace himself for impact as the unsub jumped on top of him.

The man intended to knock Spencer down and keep going. Spencer grabbed onto him, hands fisting into his clothes, dragging him to the asphalt. Spencer’s dress tore where it caught under his feet. “Don’t go anywhere!” Spencer couldn’t overpower him, but he could stall him long enough for Hotch to get over the fence and help.

An elbow shoved across Spencer’s face. Pain shot through his nose. White light blinded him. He tasted blood. A hand clawed its way into his mouth. He snapped his teeth together. He tasted more blood. “Get off me, you stupid fairy!” The man thrashed. Spencer took his left hand, the one with the shoes, and smacked him in the face.

The resulting shriek of agony shook the alleyway. The brick walls trembled with the power of it. Spencer, blinking through the pain, landed on top of the unsub with both knees between his shoulder blades, hands pinning the man’s arms to the ground, but he didn’t try to fight anymore. Now, he only tried to curl up into a ball, hands reaching for his own face, where the heel of one of Spencer’s stilettos had penetrated his eye, the shoe still fixed there and dangling.

Hotch vaulted himself over the fence. “What the hell, Reid?” Spencer wiped a smear of blood away from his nose, sliding off of the unsub when Hotch took him and cuffed him. “What’s the matter with you?”

Spencer stiffened. “I don’t have a gun. I had to improvise.” I didn’t exactly intend to impale his eye with my high heel, but it stopped him.

“So you weaponized stilettos ?” Hotch repeated, aghast. “Why aren’t you concealed carrying?”

“Do you see anywhere for me to conceal a weapon in this outfit?”

Hotch scanned Spencer, his heavy costume makeup sweating off, his blonde wig all askew, his skintight dress torn, many of his jangly bracelets lost in the chase, his bare feet cut and bloodied from racing along the glass-littered pavement, blood trickling down his nose. His gaze lingered on Spencer in an almost affectionate way. “Not the kind of weapon we use.”

Spencer’s whole body flushed.

The unsub turned his head from where Hotch pressed his face into the concrete. “It hurts! ” he wailed desperately. “My eye! You ugly fag, my eye —”

Hotch pressed one broad hand to the column of his throat. “If you call him that again, I’ll finish the job with the other shoe.”

A tingle rushed through Spencer as the unsub squeaked and fell into silence.

…

At Quantico, Spencer looked at himself in the mirror of the men’s bathroom, his face still dirty and stained from wrestling the unsub on the ground. His feet had pressure wrappings around them where they fit in his shoes; the paramedics had painstakingly dug the glass out of the soles of his feet and then treated the wounds. With gauze stuffed up the bleeding nostril of his nose, he looked worse for wear, though he had returned to his preferred clothes—his pants, his sweater vest, his long-sleeved shirt.

He stared at his reflection, hair all dirty and messy, face beginning to break out from the low quality makeup. Huh, he thought as he looked at himself. The whole thing felt so surreal. Had Hotch really kissed him? Had Hotch really put an arm around his body to hold him in place? Had Hotch really planted the heel of his hand against a man’s throat and threatened to blind him if he said another word against Spencer?

Was Hotch really entering the bathroom right now, silently nearing him, reaching for the paper towels, wetting one with warm water, pressing it to Spencer’s face, wiping away the itchy makeup and the dirt?

“You alright?” Hotch’s voice breached the calm. He smoothed the paper towel down Spencer’s face, not enough to hurt him, but firmly enough to take away most of the heavy makeup and dirt. When he’d soiled one paper towel, he wetted another one.

In the mirror, as Hotch stripped the layers of grime from his face, the rash underneath became more apparent. “Yeah,” Spencer replied. “I’m fine.” He looked away from his reflection in the mirror and glimpsed at Hotch’s face, afraid to let his gaze linger for too long—afraid of what he would or wouldn’t see. “Can I ask you something?” Hotch gave a noncommittal hum of agreement. “Why are you still here? Everyone else went home.”

Hotch ceased his ministrations, having gotten the most grime off of Spencer’s face, and he returned his gaze, a surprisingly tender expression on his face. “You made a pretty big sacrifice to catch this guy, and I owe it to you to make sure you’re okay.” Spencer grunted in response. He wondered if Hotch had something else to say. “Have you talked to Peter?”

Oh. Right. Again, Hotch expressed interest in Peter, and again, Spencer wondered if he meant to suggest something else. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s—he’s shaken up, but he’ll be alright. I think he’s thinking about taking a break from the club, though.” Hotch opened a tube of cream—anti-itch cream, Spencer noted. He squirted a small amount onto his fingertips and applied it to the rash covering Spencer’s face. “How did you…”

“You always get sun poisoning when we’re in the field,” Hotch said. The intimacy of this moment took Spencer aback, his face in Hotch’s hands as Hotch massaged a soothing lotion into his skin. “I thought the cosmetics might irritate your skin.” Spencer didn’t know what to say in response. “When will I get the opportunity to see Sparrow Wings again?” he asked as he capped the tube of lotion, having rubbed the cream into Spencer’s skin completely, leaving no residue.

Spencer puffed a short breath from his nose. “I think Sparrow Wings is retired permanently.” He spun his watch around his wrist. It didn’t jangle annoyingly like the bracelets had. “Everybody’s going to know she’s an undercover cop now. Gay people don’t like it when cops invade their spaces. The last time it happened, there was this big riot. You may have heard about it.” He crossed his arms, guarding himself—from what, he wasn’t quite sure. Was Hotch just mocking him in some elaborate joke? Asking about his drag persona, asking about Peter, cleaning his face, applying the medicated lotion, was it all some farce?

Spencer didn’t think so, but he also knew better than to trust anyone’s intentions.

A small, easy smile spread across Hotch’s face. “Then maybe I could arrange a private show.”

Spencer studied Hotch’s face in the strange, fluorescent light of the bathroom, seeking any hint of deception upon him, but he found nothing—nothing but the same steady and forthright look in those hickory eyes. Spencer’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Are you…” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence, the question, any of it.

Yet, Hotch still understood. “I am.” Hotch kissed him again. Now, Spencer understood, too. Hotch severed the kiss. “If you are—”

“I am.”

Hotch breathed a short sigh of relief. “Rossi and Morgan break even again.”

Spencer paused. “What?”

“The last bet. Rossi’s money is on this.”

Spencer blinked in surprise. Then, he shrugged. “Guess it’s better if they don’t owe each other.” He followed Hotch out of the bathroom, feeling lighter than he had felt in years.

[hazebxtch]

The Empath

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

Summary: He always saw you wherever he went. You were always alone, even if many people knew of you. None of them knew you. Yet he still wanted you in his life, despite your reputation.

Warnings: Soft Bakugo, mention of death, a little angsty, happy ending :) I was bored so sorry if its not good. I tried to make this as gender neutral as possible 

Word Count: 3,270ish

He always saw you.

It was as if you were stalking him.

You were at the library when he went to study with his friends, you were always sitting by yourself reading some books. You were always in the teachers’ lounge talking to one of the teachers when he went to talk to Aizawa. You sometimes held a small smile on the normally emotionless face. You sat in the courtyard when it was lunch, eating your lunch. Always reading a book.

But something always nagged him when he saw you. Something never felt quite right when he spotted you in your normal spots reading those stupid books of yours.

You were always alone.

You never had anyone around you. You always were by your lonesome and he didn’t know why. You were very pretty and you looked like a nice person. So what was the deal?

“What’s their problem?” Bakugo asked one day when they went to the library to study for one of their tests. “Huh? Who are you talking about Bakugo?” Mina asked, her bright eyes trying to find the person her friend was talking about. Until her eyes landed on your silky (h/c) mane, strands of loose hair pushed behind your ear. “Whoa, they are so pretty!” 

“What are you two talking about?” the red-headed male inquired, walking up to them. The only reply he received was from Mina who pointed at you with the biggest smile on her face. “Aren’t they pretty?” the girl innocently asked. Kirishima followed her finger and immediately grew weary. 

“How about we get to that studying, yeah?” Bakugo looked at his friend, seeing his conflicted features before huffing and going to their studying. He really couldn’t help it. Bakugo always found his crimson eyes drift towards your quiet form. A certain male noticed this and sighed.

“Their name is (L/n), they are in General Studies,” Kirishima said suddenly, successfully grabbing the attention of his friends. “What?” Kaminari looked lost, was this in the test? 

“You wanted to know what their deal was right? They’re a first-year, like us. No one knows what their quirk is, they doubt if they even have one at all.” the red-head mumbled. Looking down at his paper, he just continued with his explanation. 

“No one talks to them because about two years ago, they went all bat shit crazy in the middle of class. Everyone started saying that they were straight psycho and no one wants to associate themselves with someone like that, y’know? Anyway, I think its best if we just leave them alone.” the rest of the study session was silent after that. That didn’t mean a certain person didn’t notice a teacher coming up to you and taking you out of the library.

After that, he hadn’t seen you for the next week. Maybe you dropped out. Or moved away somewhere far away. 

All those theories were blown out the window when the class saw you standing by their teacher when they walked inside Gym Gamma. The class immediately irrupted in whispers, talking about all the rumors they heard about you. Bakugo noticed the very small light in your eyes disappear as your head lowered just in the slightest degree. The bangs of your hair framed your face so perfectly, you wore the school gym clothes just like everyone else, but you just looked so much better than all those extras. Cementoss and Aizawa looked at each other with a knowing look in their eyes.

The moment Aizawa activated his quirk, the whole room fell silent. “For today’s exercise, we will see how well you can do under the pressure of an unknown enemy with an unknown quirk. I know we had reenacted this scenario many times but you must be prepared for a quirk that very few may have.” he began, his hand gesturing towards your submissive body on his left. “This student will be your opponent if you successfully detain them. You pass.” his bland voice finished his instructions, looking at his colleague for a moment before putting a calloused hand on your shoulder, leading you away from the crowd. 

“You will be separated into teams of two. Each team will have a different environment, your goal is to locate the enemy and detain them. If you run out of time, you fail. If their quirk overwhelms you, you fail. Now, you may pick your pairs.” with that Cementoss left the students to themselves so they can choose their partners. 

Naturally, Bakugo chose Kirishima. The pair were formulating a plan to successfully capture you and pass their class. He had a strange feeling that someone was watching him, so his eyes roamed the expanse of the gym. Soon catching those (E/c) that he always wanted to see. Your gaze wasn’t as suddenly the ground started to form various barriers. All varying in size and shape, the ground the students stood lifted into a railed platform. 

Team after team, they failed. They either ran out of time or they became overwhelmed. Never once did you surface from the obstacles, no one ever got close to you. Yet you always beat them.

Nine teams have gone and failed, then they were finished they were sent to another platform soother could share their experience with the others. The only two who didn’t go yet was Kirishima and Bakugo. It was nerve-racking, how did no-one get you yet? Deku and Half n Half almost got you but ran out of time. Making their way to the ground of the gym, it was like a sudden wave of realization hit them. They were not going to pass this exercise. No one else did.

 How could they?

One the mark of three, the timer started. The pair split up going different ways, hoping that they could at least cover more ground. Soon, he heard his friend scream in an emotion he couldn’t decipher. 

“Kirishima!” he yelled out, calling for his partner. Growing more and more irritated, blasting away obstacles, trying to get a bird’s eye view to not only find his friend but find you. 

He found his friend first much to his relief, not that he would ever admit it. “What happened to you, Shitty hair?” his voice was aggressive but he felt genuine concern, Kiri never cracks under pressure like this. Bakugo watched as his partner’s body shook under his calloused hand.

“Get away from me Bakugo!” Kirishima yelled, pushing his friend as far away from his as possible. This angered the blonde greatly what the hell happened to him? Why was he yelling? His anger only grew as he watched Kirishima harden his hand, running towards Bakugo without another word. 

With each blast and hit. Bakugo’s anger and frustration grew, it was overwhelming. The more time the two fought, the less time was left for them on the clock.

It was just another minute and a half before the round was over, but it was so much.

His anger.

It was growing on its own and it was eating you alive. 

How did someone hold this much anger? Why couldn’t you control it better? How did it even get this bad? It was so much. Too much.

Then a scream erupted through the arena.

The scream didn’t belong to neither one of the boys that were fighting. Bakugo snapped his head around to see you.

Your hands covered your ears, tears threatened to fall past your eyes as you fell to your knees. The links severing,

You were so caught up in the overwhelming emotions that you felt, you were too busy trying to calm yourself down. You didn’t realize the too boys that walked up to you until you felt your wrists fall under the rough grip of someone. Opening your eyes, you were meet with the hateful gaze of the explosive male before you. 

“P-please let me go,” you whimpered, “Not a chance, not till you tell me what the hell your quirk is.” the growl in his voice made you want to hide, he intimidated you beyond understanding. The more you squirmed the tighter his hold on your wrists became. The frustration in his eyes grew more and more, he almost yelled at you to answer his question before you were saved. 

Aizawa released you from Bakugo’s deathly grip, “Surprisingly, Bakugo and Kirishima pass today’s exercise.” the tired male announced. Usually, this announcement would’ve made the blonde happy but this time he couldn’t help but feel bad as he stared at your retreating frame. _______ “Do you guys know what (L/n)’s quirk is?” Asui questioned her classmates as they all lounged in the dorms common room. Everyone in the room shared a silence, no one bothered to ask again when their teacher shot it down the first time. “I asked Mr. Aizawa after classes were dismissed, all he told me was that they would be working with us often.” Midoriya broke the silence with his soft voice.

And that you did.

You were often stationed on the sidelines, just standing there and staring. Sometimes you would break down and fall to your knees if training got intense, especially with Bakugo. Other times, you had to take a break because you overused your quirk. But your exposure to the class was still the same, some of the nicer ones started to talk to you. Even if it was hesitant.

The ones you knew as Deku, Uraraka, and Todoroki were the main people that spoke to you. They never bugged you about your quirk. They never bugged you about your personal life, not unless you wanted to. You were then moved to their dorms but never took any hero classes aside from their training.

You opened up bit by bit, everyone in the class soon found out that you weren’t as crazy as everyone rumored you to be. One day, the entire class was hanging out in the dorms talking like they always did. Bragging about how far along they came with their quirks, you enjoyed how everyone held pride in their advancements. Then someone brought you into the conversation, 

“Hey, (L/n)! What is your quirk? You never told us,” Midoriya’s voice echoed through your ears.

Your quirk.

At first, you hesitated, but you knew them for a long time now. You were close to the class of future heroes, save for the hot-headed one. The strength of his emotions were scary, you saw how he acted with the others of the class and it scared you. You didn’t want him to yell at you like that. No matter how attracted you were to him.

You looked down at your crossed legs, it felt weird. You never had such close relations with people ever since the incident. It felt nice,

“You don’t ha-”

“I’m an empath,” you started slowly, “I can create emotional links with people as long as I have them in my sight. When the link is established I can influence that person’s emotions, calming them, angering them, making them sad. Whatever I please they feel it,”

You noticed how everyone in the room grew silent at the explanation, you felt it as a need to continue. Maybe they wanted to know more, or maybe they were too shocked to speak. 

“It has its downfall though, if I use it too much I start to get dizzy and need to take a break. That is the reason why I leave the training exercises for a short time. Another weakness is…” everyone looked on at the newly announced Empath. Especially the explosive blonde, he listened to you intently even if it seemed like he didn’t care. He grew rather fond of you, not that he would ever admit to anyone. Mostly because he saw how you tried to steer clear of the male as if you were scared to even look at him. And that pained him a little.

“Another weakness is if the person whom I linked with has very strong emotions, my quirk will have the opposite effect and its very painful. The stronger the emotion is the more painful it is, that is another reason why I take breaks.”

“So what happened two years ago? Why did you go all psycho?” your eyes shot up to look at the one who asked the question. The devil himself. “Bakugo! Y-you can’t go around and ask people things like that!” Uraraka scolded at him as tough as she could. “Yeah man, that was not very manly of you.” Kirishima aided her in your defense. “Oh shut it, you were all wondering the same damn thing I just had enough balls to ask.”

“But st-” 

“It’s fine,” you said almost quietly, “It is an explanation that is long overdue,” Bakugo looked over at you. Adoring how you picked your lips gently, avoiding the gaze of everyone in the room. He always found it cute when you fidgeted like that. He loved how you bounced your leg as you waited for results of a test to come in, how you paced when you were worried about something. How you picked your lips when you got a little emotional.

“Part of my quirk is being about to make permanent links with people I hold dear to my heart. It is a very intimate act to me, a sign of my ultimate trust and loyalty, y’know.” the little giggle you let out as you picked at your skin sent his heart racing. How could you be so cute?

“I did it with my parents when I figured it out, it was their anniversary and I wanted it to be something special for all of us. When I did it I could feel every emotion they did. I knew when Mom was sad, I knew when Dad was angry. If it got bad I would start crying, it was intense sometimes but we still loved each other. That day, I could tell something was wrong. I felt….distressed. I didn’t know why, both Mom and Dad felt terrified. And then I felt a terrible pain, it was unbearable. It felt as if I was being ripped in two, I tried to act like nothing was wrong but it got too much and I broke.”

“What happened to your parents?” Bakugo looked for the voice that asked the question, meeting the eyes of Yaoyorozu. Everyone looked at her before their attention shifted back to your small frame. All he wanted to do was go up to you and hold you to his chest but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

“I was directed to the Principles office for disrupting the class, but I could barely keep myself together. I later found out that my parents died in a car crash. They made me take a psychiatric test to see how I was doing. I guess the results were bad because the next thing I knew I was being transferred to a Psychiatric Institute and that is how I spent my summer. When I was released, I was sent to my Grandmother. I had connected to her the same way I did to my parents for her birthday before their death. Sometime early in the first semester of high school, she died of a heart attack. I felt nothing, I didn’t even know until the hospital called the school.” 

“Does that mean you only get like that if the death is not natural?” it was that Icyhot bastard who spoke next and you just nodded your head in agreement. The silence was awkwardly comfortable, it was like they all understood you better.

 On a more intimate level.

There was only so much silence you could handle until you had enough. “Thank you for listening, but I need to go to sleep now.” with those words you had gotten up from your spot on the floor and made your way to the stairs that lead to your dorm. 

You were just about to open the door to your room when you heard his voice call out to you. You looked over to your side to see him walk over to you, you couldn’t help the slight blush that dusted your cheeks. How could you? You saw his strong frame from that tank top he wore.

“Yes, Bakugo?” you couldn’t keep your voice from shaking, how could you? “Why don’t you ever talk to me?” his rough voice questioned you when he was right beside you. You couldn’t meet his gaze, you were already flustered from just looking at him. You couldn’t form actual words in that moment, he was so close, you could practically feel his breath on your neck.

“Well? I’m waiting,” why? Why was he waiting? Did he care why you never spoke to him? Why you avoided him?

“Because your anger is overwhelming when you train, it scares me. And how you talk to the others always threatening to kill them, that’s kinda scary too.” since it was already a night of honesty on your half, you might as well have told him. But for the blonde, it hurt him. Did he scare you? To the point where you avoided his mere presence?

“I scare you?” his voice was shakey. It shocked you, to say the least. He sounded so vulnerable in that one moment, it left you so speechless you could only nod your head. 

“Is there a way for you not to be so scared of me?” that question surprised you. He didn’t even care, right?

“Why do you want to know something like that?” you grew the courage to look back at his built frame to see the softest face you could expect from someone like him. 

You had infected his heart and he hated it. He hated being the reason that you had to take breaks to recover from his intense feelings. He hated the fact that his emotions were the reason you avoided him. He always wanted to speak to you, he always wanted to hold you close while you watched movies or just for the hell of it. 

But he scared you.

His next moves were unexpected, and he gave you plenty of time to push him away and rush into your dorm. But you didn’t.

Not as he turned you around to face him.

Not as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

Not as his calloused hand met your cheek.

Not when he hesitated to connect his lips to yours.

Not even when he tilted your head to deepen the kiss.

You just melted into his hands like butter, you didn’t want this moment to end. You raised your hand to rest on his as you kissed him just as intently as he did. He pulled away too soon for your liking as you let out a small whimper. Leaving his hand to rest on your cheek just a little while longer before he left to go into his dorm. In that small little moment, you understood everything.

“Wait, Bakugo.” your voice called out to him shyly. He didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. You knew that he stopped in his doorway to hear you out,

“(Y/n)…” you paused for a moment before you continued, “My birth name is (Y/n).”

You heard him let out a small scoff, you could practically see the small smile on his face as he spoke. “Katsuki.”

 And as his door closed behind him, a blush irrupted on your cheeks as you touched your cheek. He was so gentle.

With a small smile, you turned to enter your room before you irrupted in a fit of little squeals and giggles. 

Unaware of the blonde who laid in his bed, smiling from your fit of happiness.  

And unaware from the eyes of said blondes friend, watching from the corner of the hall.

It was a nice night for all.

[scribomaniac]

Something Wicca This Way Comes Ch 6

@andiirivera @blackwidownat2814 @gryphbear @meredeph @jonesfandomfanatic @forget-me-not-s @groovyfoxpeace @superchocovian @therealstartraveller776 @stahlop @kmomof4 @teamhook

The Jones brothers had had one hell of a week. It had all started with Liam scouring the Book of Shadows for a demon or entity that could’ve vanquished the judge at the courthouse. Then, a few days later when Liam discovered some cloaked demon trying to steal the book, he dove even deeper into its contents in an attempt to figure out who or what was after them. Liam had crammed his nose so far into the book it was a wonder it didn’t become part of the binding. Even Tink couldn’t tear him away for longer than five minutes. 

Will and Killian had just begun discussing their concerns when a portal had thrown the three brothers into the past, forcing Liam to focus on the present. Well, sort of. At any rate, they’d helped a man rescue his pregnant wife, delivered the baby, and discovered the baby boy was their ancestor, Stede Bonnet. 

After that surprisingly heartwarming adventure to the past, things in the Jones house had settled down some. Everything seemed to return to normal, or as normal as it ever really got for the Charmed Ones. Will was able to catch up on some of his school work, Liam and Tink had been trying out new recipes for the pub, and Killian had acquired Emma’s number. For a while, it was almost like they were just normal men.

Until Liam decided to ruin it all by being the perfect witch that he was. “Look at this,” he said one morning in the kitchen, as Will ate his breakfast cereal and Killian read the newspaper. Liam dropped the book atop the table, the weight of it causing a loud bang to reverberate through the room and the table to shake. Will’s honey-nut loops splattered out of the bowl and into his lap.

“Thanks,” Will grabbed at some napkins to sop up the mess.

“Look,” Liam said again, pointing at the page he’d opened the book to. “The Firestarter, an extremely rare and coveted magical creature. I’ll bet you guys anything this is what we saw at the courthouse.”

Killian kept reading from where he sat, noticing Liam had left a lot out. Will leaned back in his seat and asked, “What makes you so sure? We’ve seen demons burn others before. Even the judge could throw fireballs. Not powerful ones,” he shrugged, “but still.”

“It’s more of a gut feeling than anything else, but my instincts have never been wrong before.”

“Hold on,” Killian stood up to get a closer look at the text, “this says Firestarters are mortal, that they can be good or evil.” He looked between both brothers, “If it is a Firestarter, maybe they were there to help.”

Will picked his spoon back up, but before taking a bite he asked, “Then why didn’t they stick around and say so?”

“Will has a point, and look at this,” Liam pointed to the bottom of the text, “they’re usually bodyguards of the Source. That’s what caught my attention.” Liam’s eyes were wide and bright, his back perfect straight as he laid out his theory, “What if the Source sent his bodyguard to attack us?  If they’re mortal then they could be anyone.” His eyes flashed towards Killian, then quickly away.

“But then why would they help us?” Killian asked, reaching for the book, “Why not just--” As soon as his fingers touched the ancient page Killian’s breath left his lungs and his eyes fluttered to a close.

A woman slept soundly in her hospital bed, her short dark hair a sharp contrast against her pale white skin. There was a slight sheen of sweat over her brow. She looked tired, but happy. Glowing, almost. 

Killian recognized the woman easily enough, having become very acquainted with her through her husband. It was Mary Margaret.

Beside Mary Margaret, in a small plastic crib, was a new born baby. She was wrapped in what looked to be a hand knitted blanket. There was something embroidered on the side of it, but Killian couldn’t quite make it out. The baby was so small, her fingers no longer than an inch at the most. Her big eyes were open, taking in her new world. 

Then a shadow fell over her. The baby raised her hands and began to fuss, but soon a woman appeared and cooed at the baby to quiet her.

Killian knew at once this woman didn’t belong in the room, and that she wasn’t mortal. Her long black hair was pinned up with feathers and her floor length dress glittered with its many diamonds. She reached for the baby, a wicked smile pulling at her lips. The demon woman looked over to the still sleeping Mary Margaret and said, "Fair's fair."

Then she and the baby disappeared.

With a gasp and a shudder, Killian was brought back to the present. 

"Killian?" Liam asked, placing a steadying hand on his younger brother's shoulder.

"I think," Killian paused and looked down at the page before him, "I think I just saw a demon kidnap Nolan's daughter."

Liam frowned, "What does that have to do with the Firestarter?"

Shaking his head, Killian said, "No bloody idea."

After that Will threw his empty bowl into the sink and headed up to his room to get dressed while Killian and Liam perused the book. They hoped to identify the demon that stole the Nolan baby, but the Book of Shadows was hardly considered a light read, and not every description came with an illustration. 

Feeling a kink developing in his neck, Killian sighed and called it, "I need a break."

Liam didn't move, but he did release a low hum of acknowledgement. Watching him for a second longer, Killian wished he had half his drive and perseverance.

"I'll go check the mail." The newspaper on their street was always delivered at the same time every morning, but the mail time always fluctuated. Sometimes their mailman, Verne, started on their street and they received it about the same time as the paper, but sometimes he'd start on the other side of his route or a few streets in, depending on his load or where he'd be going after his shift. 

Killian opened the front door and found a long white box on their stoop. There was no other mail, just the box. He picked it up and found a small note taped to it.

“Will, mate,” Killian called from the foyer, looking down at the box in his hands. “You’ve got a package. Flowers I think.”

“Flowers?” Will repeated as he came down the stairs fully dressed. “From who?”

Killian shrugged and placed the box on a table, “Maybe that lad you went on a date with last weekend. Or were supposed to at least.” Killian winced as he remembered how Will had had to call the date off due to some minor demon activity.

“Peter? That’s weird,” Will took off the box’s lid, “we’re gonna meet up tonight so maybe--ugh! What the hell?”

Covering his nose at the foul stench, Killian looked down at the withering petals and wriggling mealworms. Truly it was more shocking than anything. Who would do this? Throwing the lid back on, Killian grabbed the box and bee-lined it straight for the front door. “What the bloody hell,” he muttered as he threw the contents into the bushes. 

Looking back at his younger brother, he asked, “You piss someone off lately?”

Eyes as wide as saucers, Will shook his head, “Not like that! You sure it was from Peter?”

“It didn’t say, maybe it was a prank?”

Will’s brows rose, “You think?”

Heading towards the bathroom to wash his hands--he didn’t touch anything, but his skin suddenly felt like something was crawling over him--he asked over his shoulder, “You in a prank war with anyone?”

“What’s all this then?” Liam asked, peeking his head out from the kitchen. 

“Will received a box of bugs,” Killian said loudly over the running water. “Don’t worry, they didn’t get on anything.”

“A box of bugs?” Liam frowned, “Do you think it could’ve been a demon?”

Will snorted, “What demon sends flowers?”

“I don’t know, I’ll check the book.” And off he went, back the way he came to bury his nose in the old familiar pages.

After drying his hands, Killian shook his head and sighed, “So much for that. He’s worse than before.”

“You think we should talk to him about it? Or Tink?”

“You make it sound like he needs an intervention.” Will lowered his gaze and raised a brow. Killian pursed his lips, “Hey, it’s Liam. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Right,” Will said slowly. “I’m going to call Peter.”

“I’ll be at the pub!” Killian said before heading out the door. The pub wouldn’t be open to the public for a few more hours at least, but at least there he could be productive--and hopefully remain bug free. 

There were only two other workers there, August, the assistant manager, and Walter, the dozy man who acted as a daytime security guard. “Walter,” he greeted, patting the older man on the shoulder and jerking him awake.

Walter’s eyes bulged and his surprised gasp turned into a stuttered snort, “Ah, wha--what? Oh, hi Killian.”

“You’re here early,” August said by way of greeting. He jerked his chin towards the pub’s entrance behind Killian, “You alone?”

“Aye,” Killian took a seat at the bar and grabbed a cleaning rag and a glass. “Liam’s doing some research back at the house and Will has class.”

August nodded and looked back down at his book, “Is Liam gonna come by soon? I have some questions,” he tapped his pencil against the book’s pages, “about last month’s numbers.”

Grabbing another glass, Killian said, “Not sure. He’s been a bit, ah--” he froze and realized he’d been about to say distracted. “Focused lately.”

“Right, right.” August sighed and pushed the book away. He grabbed his own rag and began to clean alongside Killian.

“How’s that book of yours coming?” Killian asked after several moments of silence. Well, save for Walter’s snores, which started up again not long after Killian had taken his seat. “It’s a mystery, right?”

“Oh yeah,” August huffed out a laugh, “I hit a bit of writer’s block.”

“Ah, sorry mate.”

August shrugged, “Don’t worry about it. Whenever something like this happens I have a foolproof plan to fix it.”

Grinning, Killian focused on a particularly difficult smudge, “Aye? And what’s that?”

Placing his clean glass to the side, August looked Killian straight in the eye and answered, “I get a change of perspective.”

They continued on like that until it was time for the pub to open. Walter’s relief, a tall woman named Ruby, came and took over checking ID’s and making sure drunks got into cabs and not their own cars. Liam did eventually show up to check on things, disappearing to the back room with August almost immediately. The assistant manager left soon after, and Killian took over his shift as bartender. Tink made an appearance as well, arriving later on in the evening. 

For a small period of time, everything seemed normal. That should have tipped Killian off that something was wrong.

Not long after Ashley, a sweet, quiet girl with short blond hair, arrived and started serving patrons, Killian received a call. “Hey Will.”

“Hey Killian,” Will’s voice sounded strange, almost shakey.

“You alright, mate?”

“Yeah! Or, ah, no. Well,” Killian’s brows furrowed. The pub with its crowds had become too loud for a phone conversation, so he moved to the back office. “I just--can you and Liam come home? I think we were robbed.”

“What?” Killian’s brows shot up. Of all the things he’d expected his brother to say, it wasn’t that.

“Well no, I know we were robbed. Just,” Will sighed, “can you bring Liam home, please?”

Not needing to hear more, Killian grabbed Tink and Liam and after a rushed explanation, told Tink to orb them home.

The front door was open when they arrived. Tink and Liam rushed in to find Will and David talking in the living room. “Oh, Will!” Tink’s hands cupped Liam’s face, “You’re shaking. Here,” she pulled the blanket on the back of the couch over his shoulder. “I’ll go make you some hot coco. Don’t move.”

Killian picked up a piece of broken mirror and sighed. Looking around he took stock of their home; tables were overturned, the sofa’s stuffing had been ripped out, and Will’s plants laid scattered everywhere. Killian could only imagine what destruction awaited him in the rest of the house. 

Tink returned and handed Will a mug, “Blow on it first.” She looked at Liam and said, “I’m going to check in with the Elders, see if they know anything.”

“Don’t take too long,” Liam said, kissing her on the cheek. Tink nodded before disappearing in a blur of white light.

“Did you notice anything about the intruder?” David asked Will, “Anything to help identify him?”

Will shook his head, “No, it was dark--all the lights were out.”

“Well there’s no sign of forced entry--”

“There wouldn’t be if it was a demon, would there?” Liam leaned against the fireplace. His jaw was so tight Killian could practically hear the grinding of his teeth. 

Killian kicked away a piece of a vase, “Demons don’t usually vandalize.”

Liam opened his mouth to retort, no doubt about to list off several demons who did, indeed, vandalize homes, but David quickly asked, “Do you notice anything missing? Clothes, jewelry, household items?”

“No,” Killian shook his head, “but it’s a bit hard to tell at the moment.”

“All right, well we were able to lift some fingerprints and we’ll start running them tomorrow morning. What I want you guys to do is make up a list of enemies who may have a reason to do this.”

“Already done,” Liam pulled out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and handed it to the detective. 

Unfolding the list, David released a heavy sigh as he read its contents, “Grimlocks, Abraxas, Guardians--are there any humans on the list?”

Shrugging, Liam simply said, “Humans aren’t our problem, mate.”

“Demons don’t leave fingertips,” Will pointed out before taking a sip of his coco, steadfastly ignoring Liam’s glare.  

“Look,” Killian quickly intercepted what he felt was an argument in the making. “We’ll make two lists. One for us and one for Nolan. That way all sides are covered.”

“I’m telling you this is a waste of time. It’s always a demon.” Liam ran a hand down his face, “Every second we waste making up a list is another that gives the demon a chance to attack.”

Killian sighed. Liam was usually right, and his argument here was sound, but his stubbornness with the list and his fixation on demons was growing to be a bit much. Especially for Will. The youngest Jones brother didn’t know the eldest like Killian did. They’d been together through thick and thin, and whatever Liam did, he did it for them. He was protective by nature, but sometimes that protectiveness could come off as smothering. 

“You’re not always right, you know,” Will snapped, glaring into his mug. “Think about the flowers I got this morning. What demons does that?.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” David looked between Liam and Will, his hands up as if to keep them apart even though neither had moved an inch. “What’s this about flowers?”

“Someone sent me some dead flowers with bugs on them,” Will took another sip of his coco. “Killian found them on the doorstep with my name on them.”

“Aye,” Killian added, “there was no signature on it.”

“Will,” Liam sighed, “you’re one of the nicest kids out there. Who would want to hurt you? The flowers were just a prank.”

David ignored Liam’s words and continued on with his questions, “Do you have any idea who might have sent them? Anyone you might have slighted lately?”

Shrugging, Will pulled his blanket closer around him, “No. Not that badly anyway.”

“Even the slightest thing can set these types of people off. Believe me.” David rubbed at the crease between his brows, “Stalkers don’t need much.”

“What about Peter?” Killian asked, looking at his younger brother with his head tilted. “Didn’t you stand him up the other night?”

Will fidgeted, “Yeah, but,” he paused, thinking of the right words to use, “Peter’s not that type of person.”

“You never know,” David said solemnly. “Now, let’s talk about security. You guys have none.”

Liam rolled his eyes and pushed off from the mantle, “We don’t need security. We’re witches.”

Killian watched as his brother headed towards the kitchen. It was a wonder that Liam seemed more frustrated with the detective and his questions than the fact that their house had been broken into. He supposed that’s why he was so much better at this witch business than himself, Liam was never frazzled by the supernatural.

“Witches should still have alarm systems!” David called after him, his brows furrowed. Shaking his head, he said, “You guys should at least lock the door.”

“I lock the door,” Will said, almost pitifully as he shrank even further into his blanket.

Killian winced, “I sometimes do.” Honestly, it was a miracle he remembered to close it sometimes. 

“And I lock the attic door,” Liam had returned with a glass of water in his hand. Three pairs of eyes turned to look at him curiously. “What?” He asked, “that’s where we keep the Book of Shadows. And after that demon almost got its hand on it I thought we should add the extra layer of protection.”

“You’ll lock a door for a book’s safety,” David started, his voice dry and tired, “but not your own?”

“We can handle ourselves.”

“Right,” David shook his head and took a few steps towards the door, “well I’ll keep you updated on what we find.”

Under his breath, so low only Killian could hear, Liam muttered, “Which will be nothing.”

David opened the door to leave, and found his partner on the other side. Emma took a step back, surprised by the sudden movement but recovered quickly, standing aside to let him pass. 

“Emma!” Killian’s brows rose up high at her appearance. Behind him, Liam released a low hum as he sipped his water before walking back into the kitchen. “What are you doing here? Come in, come in.” He waved her in, quickly meeting her halfway in the foyer. 

“I heard about the break in,” Emma’s frown was deeper than usual. She stepped further into the home as she took in the damage and her eyes widened when she noticed Will on the couch. Turning her focus back onto Killian she added, “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Killian nodded dumbly, completely awestruck that Emma was standing before him. “Aye, we’re all alright.”

“Is Will--”

“He’s fine too,” Killian quickly assured her, wincing as he also took in his younger brother’s pale face. He must’ve been more tired than Killian first thought. “I should probably help him up to bed though, but,” he paused, raising a brow at her, his lips curling into a grin “were you worried about me, Swan?

“Maybe,” Emma allowed herself a small step forward, then her eyes flashed over his shoulder and she raised her chin. “I should go though.” She took a big step back and looked down at her feet, her blond hair falling over her shoulders. “You guys need your rest.” Glancing up at him through her lashes she asked, “Call me tomorrow?”

Killian’s heart stuttered in his chest and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. “Of course,” he finally said, his lips stretching into a wide smile as he showed her out. “Good night, Swan.”

Emma smiled over her shoulder, “Good night, Killian.”

-----

Haha! This one’s actually edited before posting! I hope everyone enjoyed. A few notes...This was originally supposed to be longer but I was losing focus so I cut the chapter in half. I know exactly how I want the next chapter to go so I plan on starting it tomorrow. Then hopefully I can post another chapter mid week, and the next over the weekend. It’s ambitious so we’ll see how it turns out.

The next chapter will be more Emma centric and we’ll be seeing some Rumpel/Regina/Bae in it too.

Walter is Sleepy for those who may not know, and I just love the idea of Red being a bad ass bouncer. 

Stede Bonnet AKA the gentleman pirate was alive roughly around the same time as Melinda Warren and I just thought it’d be a fun little detail to throw in. 

I know Killian’s two premonitions so far have been of the past (they’re just so easy) but I’m sure I’ll soon be writing futuristic ones for him soon enough.  

[kittinoir]

Phantoms Ch. 4

Read on Ao3

’…Marinette…’

Familiar shadows swathed her, oppressive and stifling. She couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t she breathe? Fear pounded through her in time with her heart as panic set in. This loss, it was…

‘Marinette.’

She turned blindly on her knees towards the sound of her name, but to no avail. No one and nothing appeared to orient her. She groped blindly forward but her fingers found only empty air. She clamped down on her breathing, struggling to get it under control as she attempted to feel out the yawning abyss in front of her.

‘Marinette.’

She turned again - and shrieked as she beheld a pair of glowing blue eyes just feet from her face. The darkness swallowed the sound greedily, as though it had been eons since it had tasted life, if ever. Raw terror obliterated every thought she had, leaving her paralyzed, unable to do anything but watch as he stalked closer.

‘Marinette.’

Her name clanged through her, every bit as horrifying as it had been the first time she’d heard it from his mouth. She remained frozen as he reached out a hand, stroked a thumb over her cheekbone, across her lips.

‘No,’ she breathed as that hand slid into her hair. ‘I saved you.’ Shivers skittered down her spine, but the trembling wouldn’t stop. His face drew nearer until all she had to do was tilt her face up to kiss him. His breath was cold as it brushed her forehead, ruffling her bangs. 

‘I missed you,’ he said as he drew her to his chest. She jerked as ten claws began to pierce her skin, the tiniest needle-like pricks. And then Marinette’s heart stopped altogether as Chat Blanc tilted her backwards. The solid ground dropped away from beneath them and they were falling into that abyss together as the bottom rushed to meet them.

Marinette gasped as her alarm went off, shoving her roughly into the real world. Her heart beat painfully in her chest as the shattered fragments of her nightmare vanished like dew in the morning sun. Only icy blue eyes lingered long enough to remind her who, if not what, the dream had been about.

“Marinette,” Tikki said from her pillow. “Akuma alert!”

Marinette turned to her phone, and sure enough, it was not her morning alarm that had awoken her, but one of the many alert apps she’d downloaded. She groaned as she read the time, and stifled another one as she glanced through her skylight at the sky. It was still dark, but a faint purpling of the horizon heralded the dawn’s arrival. Morning - and her civilian life - were fast approaching.

“Tikki, spots on!” 

Marinette leapt from her bed through the skylight as the transformation took hold. She paused long enough to check her yo-yo for Nadja’s coverage, and then she was sprinting for the Louvre. Her dream must have still been bothering her, though, because she jumped when Chat Noir landed near-silently beside her, nearly falling flat on her face.

For a moment, it wasn’t Adrien looking out at her from behind the mask. For a moment, it was him - but then Adrien smiled, and he was gone.

“I was beginning to wonder if I’d done permanent damage,” he quipped, a challenge dancing in his eyes.

“Looks like Hawk Moth just needed a week to recover,” Ladybug said with a quick grin. She could feel herself relaxing into the familiar rhythm of their partnership, the line between Chat Noir and Adrien blurring even more, until the trust and support won out over the overwhelming anxiety she usually felt around her crush. At least behind the mask she could pretend it was just adrenaline.

“Think we need anyone else?” 

Ladybug shook her head. “We should let them sleep.”

“Do you really believe any of them slept through that alert?” Chat Noir laughed as they leapt across an alley.

“Not really,” Ladybug admitted with a chuckle of her own. “But it’s an unnecessary risk - unless you think we could use the help?”

Strange. It felt strange, to finally be able to share leadership of their team. Strange, but good. She savoured it, the weightlessness of a shared burden, something she’d always wanted but had never been permitted to pursue. Balance was finally restored.

“Nothing wrong with asking for help,” Chat Noir said at last, “But I think you’re right.”

“Just like old times, then,” Ladybug said with a wicked grin.

Chat Noir glanced down at her. “Just like?”

Her heart began to pound as something flickered in her partner’s gaze, something unreadable, yet familiar, something that reminded her of a nickname he hadn’t used in months, of declarations and flowers, gentle kisses and lost memories. Of a tangled knot that had finally come undone, only to find the red string fraying at both ends. Of a future she could never have, and would not wish on anyone.

Before she could wipe it all away with a quip, the rooftop they had just landed on exploded beneath their feet, sending both of them flying in opposite directions. 

For a moment, Ladybug froze as fragments of her nightmare shattered across her vision, fragments of falling and a cold embrace as she fell then, too, but then she was ripping her yo-yo free from her waist and loosing it towards the nearest balcony. She couldn’t help the gasp that burst from her as she beheld the monster that had caused the destruction moments before, beheld the sheer number of teeth and claws. Whatever this thing was, she couldn’t imagine what had created it - couldn’t imagine the person trapped inside.

But no, she realized as she got her feet back under her, perhaps monster had been the more accurate description. Senti-monster, that was. Apparently Chat Noir’s cataclysm had done more damage than either of them had anticipated; Mayura was the one doing the heavy lifting now.

The monster didn’t inspire much confidence. From the look of it, Hawk Moth was done playing around. He wanted the Miraculous, and apparently he was willing to slash them and everyone else to bloody ribbons to get them. It looked like it wasn’t just about the jewellery anymore. Some nights, when she couldn’t sleep, Ladybug tried to imagine what kind of horrible wish Hawk Moth was so desperate to make that he would do this to them over and over and over. What could he possibly want so badly? Sometimes what she came up with gave her nightmares. But her current theory - revenge - turned to dust in the wind at the sight of the monster. It only convinced her the only person he might want revenge against was her and Chat Noir, and he wasn’t about to waste his wish on that. 

Ladybug bit her lip as the monster writhed, loosing a shriek that must have woken half the city. Lucky Charm now? Or later? Would there be a later if either one of them got too close to those teeth?

Too soon, she decided as she loosed her yo-yo once again. There was no telling what kind of powers it might have. She just had to hope whatever they were wouldn’t keep her from using her power later - or that she’d figure out a way to use it anyway. 

Ladybug swung by the creature’s head, narrowly missing the needle-like teeth as long as her arm. She limped Chat Noir on the street below, baton out as she arched over the fangs. She felt more than she heard him summon his cataclysm, the not-quite-right tear in the world it created that tugged at the soul.

“What the - ”

Nothing could have prepared Ladybug as the thing <em>leapt</em> after her, following her as she arced around it. She glanced back just in time to see Chat Noir miss by centimetres, his hand sailing through empty space where a spindly leg had been moments before. He caught himself before he accidentally collided with something else, sparing his cataclysm. Still, the timer had been set.

Ladybug abruptly leashed her yo-yo, dropping into a tuck on the street and ducking into an alley. She didn’t wait to see if it followed before she sprung between the two close walls. She popped back up on the roof moments later and began racing back to the street, hoping her partner was making the most of the limited space she’d drawn the creature into. “Lucky Charm!”

Ladybug snatched the spotted can out of the air as she plunged back down into the street. Another other-worldly shriek rent the early morning air, punctuated by a familiar whoop or success. The cataclysm, it seemed, had landed. 

“Bug spray.” Ladybug cast around for the other elements required to make the Lucky Charm work, but only the senti-monster itself lit up. She supposed it did look a bit like a millipede, if the basement-dwelling bugs had been about one hundred times bigger and sported jaws designed to tear people in half. The direct approach it was, then.

“I guess Hawk Moth didn’t appreciate my parting gift,” Chat Noir grunted as he slid to a stop beside her, baton out. 

“I get the feeling Mayura appreciated it even less,” Ladybug said as she spun the bug spray in her hand. 

Chat Noir grinned as the senti-monster surged over the roofs. “Ready to squash this bug, M’lady?”

She didn’t get a chance to respond before he took off in a dead sprint towards the monster, which was just as well because the familiar name had obliterated anything she might have been about to say. She took off after him as she collected the scattered fragments of her concentration, already convincing herself her racing heart had everything to do with getting within a foot of those long, sharp teeth and nothing to do with what Chat Noir had just called her.

It’s just a name it’s just a name it’s just a name. She chanted the words in her head as she slid beneath the monster and popped up behind it. It’s just a name. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just old habits. Nothing more.

But love would not be so easily lied to. It curled around her heart, and it was suddenly hard to breathe as she scaled the wall behind the monster to its most vulnerable spot. 

It doesn’t matter, she reminded herself desperately as she readied the can. Even if it means something, I can’t…we can’t…

The distraction cost her. Ladybug shouted in surprise as the monster reacted faster than she’d realized it would. One of its fangs connected with her arm, and not even the Miraculous could completely prevent the damage it caused. Still, she emptied the bug spray directly into it’s mouth, even as a line of white-hot pain enveloped her  left arm.

The monster reared back with another scream, but Ladybug stumbled as she landed. Blood, she realized distantly. That was blood - her blood - dripping onto the cobblestones. 

Focus. She had to focus. She was going to lose her partner soon, and her own timer was ticking down. They had to end this, now. 

A shout drew her attention, and she glanced over to see Chat Noir frozen, staring at her - at her arm. It was instinct to lash out to him with her yo-yo, to yank him out of harms way as an arm came crashing down where he’d been standing moments before.

“You’re hurt,” he said as he fell into a crouch beside her. She could hear what he wouldn’t ask: How bad? Can you still fight?

“The ladybugs will fix it,” she said, squaring her shoulders. Not good. Let’s finish this.

“Have you figured out where the amok is?” he asked, dragging his attention back to the monster. She pointed to the nearly invisible charm hanging from its tail end. “I’ll keep it occupied then.” 

He leapt towards the head, baton swinging, and even she flinched as he connected with more force than she’d ever seen him use before. Ladybug spared a moment to hope, a little selfishly, that it sent Maryura’s ears ringing as well, before she took advantage of the distraction her partner was so graciously providing,

*  * * * *

They had been thrown into billboards, struck by any number of creatures, chewed up, spat out, even been the victim of their own abilities before, but Adrien had never, ever seen blood. 

And in the moment he’d seen it dripping from Marinette’s arm, his usual good humour, the very thing he used to keep the terrifying realities of what they did every day at bay, had completely deserted him - and a terrible rage had swept in.

Even now, as they sat in class, surrounded by their teammates and friends, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing in her direction, from stealing glances at her arm, as though he could still see the vicious wound there.

Worse. It had been so much worse to see it, and to know, truly know, exactly whose blood it had been. He was beginning to realize what he suspected his partner had known all along: knowing each others identities would only make their fight harder, not easier.

Still, he would not trade the girl behind him for anything. He had her back. That was all that mattered.

He would deal with the rest. 

[dropsofletters]

a million tries and then, you

title: a million tries and then, you pairing: kim dongyoung/reader genre: office!au/matchmaker!au/enemies to lovers!au summary: working for a dating app as a matchmaker was a very difficult task, much more when she is unable to get a date herself and there is one coworker named dongyoung stealing her clients. just how disrespectful could he be with that cynical personality of his and that sweet smile?

Here is the setting: She’s a matchmaker—yes, as a career, a person who works for a dating app and with her wide knowledge about relationships, sex and love, united two people based on a small questionnaire they had to fill before creating their accounts and then, she sent them off on a date. It was a hard task, unbeknownst to people; she had to study the places in which they lived at, their interests, what they disliked, etc.

Now that we have the setting, let’s wait for the punchline. Wait. And wait. And wait.

She was single, that was not potentially wrong at the slightest, but it was not because she lacked people in her life that could be a partner, but her own ignorance when dating was what made it so difficult for her to date. It was almost like a curse, she opened her mouth and men suddenly fleeted away like bats in a bright place. In her own opinion, she thought she had been cursed by black magic when she was a child, but it could be any other thing. Maybe, she spoke too much or she spoke too casually. She flirted a lot, perhaps, or she was too robotic because she knew how dates worked. After all, the funny part about dates was actually…you know…making mistakes, like having a bit of sauce at the corner of your lip or just tripping over your feet.

No one would buy a painkiller from a doctor that did not take them, mainly because you had to sell a product that you had tried and were confident in, but she sold love and seduction when in reality she could barely hold a man to her side for…a month. She guesses that was the longest time she had been talking to someone before they disappeared from her life. It was quite funny, how one moment she was listening to songs and remembering a man in particular and the other she was just forgotten. Not even a text to remind her that she existed but they did not care about her, they all left and pretended like nothing happened.

And then there is another matchmaker, a man. Matchmaker of the month was the title he had at the moment and he was obnoxiously talented. He did not even read over the questionnaires all that much, neither did he look at the zodiac charts, he simply could feel it. Feel as in…he just had an eye for it. Part of the office crushed on him for it, but she was the part of the workplace that had conspiracy theories about him. Yoonoh said he was just very lucky. Taemin said he was a wizard of sorts and Amber agreed. Her opinion, however, was just that he was a big asshole.

You know, one of those people who have the aura that they think they are better than everyone. The type of guy who would give you a you’re welcome if you ever did so much as look him in the eye. He was one of those people who rolled their eyes at anything that sounded even remotely dumb. He probably claimed to be one of those literature geeks when he only had Edgar Allan Poe up his ass, but even when he was all that—or that was what she thought—, Dongyoung still got to dare around much more than her. One day, he got there with a hickey that she had gotten a glimpse of when he undid the buttons of his button down to fix his tie. The other morning, he was talking on the phone with someone and he kept smirking. Dumbasses always got what they wanted, that was for sure.

That was not the point. The point was that her work was very methodically done. First, she read their names and looked at the study of their zodiac charts—there was a whole division for that—and she paired up people based on major interests or correlations. Her job took her a lot of hours but Dongyoung could pop out ten couples in only two hours, and not only that, but said couples that actually did great. Their boss was enchanted, to say the least, but it still irks her to know how he actually did it. Normally, she does not care until Dongyoung went by the door and sat down by his cubicle and instead of minding his own business, he cared about hers.

Dongyoung was a sight to look at—he had a pretty smile and a tiny face, eyes turning upwards and soft brown hair that was normally just falling over his forehead in the shape of bangs. He was young, which was also something good considering selling love at the age of sixty on an app was not the most expected of things, and he had a very nice speaking voice. Sometimes he sings, other times he just eats in a funny way but he always pretends he is not laughing at someone’s jokes. Maybe, it was pride or he was just really stupid. Either way, Dongyoung lived up to his bachelor’s degree of being a healthy guy dating around a sufficient amount, but he was obnoxiously so pretentious that she felt the sudden need to smack him in the face when she clicked on the icon that contained a selfie of some cute guy to see a sign that read:

This customer has already been picked by another Cupid.

That’s how they called themselves—Cupids, quite clear because they made two people fall in ‘love’ for one another, but that was apart from the case. After some research on the app, she realized that her client had been paired up with one of Dongyoung’s clients and that surprises her. Normally, they were given a list of a bunch of clients so they would not have these types of situations, but even when Dongyoung clearly saw that said client was under her name, he still did not care. Anger flows around her body as she turns to glare at him, his eyes still settled on his screen as his fingers danced across his keyboard lazily. Look at him. Typing as if he just did nothing. Looking ethereal and natural and so relaxed and so fucking…

Annoying.

Yes. Annoying.

She stands up from her seat, fixing her pink button down as she walked towards the man. Indeed, they wore pink clothing in said place but that is not what bothers her—it bugs her that Kim Dongyoung had taken her pink haired client just to give it to someone else. Who did he think he is? She presses two of her fingers against his shoulder and Dongyoung looks behind him, quirking an eyebrow without really asking her a question. Not that she gave him time to do so, at least. “Lee Taeyong was my client. I had already paired him up with—”

Dongyoung looks at his screen once again, clearly not interested. “I paired him up with one of my clients because they would totally hit it off.”

She tightens her fists out of anger. “I said I had already paired him up with one of my clients.”

The man sighs before turning on his chair, his legs parting as he rests his hands on the armrests of his seat. “And I paired him up with one of mine. The notification has already been sent. Too late.”

“But you have plenty of clients of your own!”

“So do you. Pair your girl with someone else.”

She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest without realizing that there were other workers looking at them. Still, she tried to keep her voice on a low. “…I can’t. Daniela was the perfect match for him! She is an exchange student that just got here, in Seoul. She enjoys dancing and hip-hop. She loves long term relationships and a man who can cook.”

The man with the sharp eyes stops for a moment and she thinks he was about to apologize, but he doesn’t. “We are supposed to create good couples. Daniela is not even that fluent in Korean to start with and Taeyong does not look like the type that took Spanish 101 after class, so they would not have worked out. There would be a language barrier.”

“Verbally, but that does not mean—” She stops herself when she realizes Dongyoung had turned on his chair once again and she huffs out a breath. “You bratty asshole, haven’t your parents taught you that you have to look at someone when they are talking to you?!”

“They have.” Dongyoung says. “But they also taught me not to listen to people who don’t know what they are talking about.”

Somewhere in the room someone gasps, but she doesn’t even mind who it was. “What did you just say?”

“You are too uptight.” Dongyoung explains. All words and no bite. “Listen, I am sorry I took your client but your choice would have not worked. It is nothing against you, but really, we are here trying to come up with good couples and the least we want is a bad review.”

“I’d rather have a hundred bad reviews than a good one for you.” She says and Dongyoung stands up from his seat, raising his eyebrows and sighing.

“Are we done here?” The man asks and she parts her lips, surprised and astonished, before shaking her head.

“No! We are not done—!”

“I really have to pee.” Dongyoung whispers and then, she shakes her head.

“I…uh…I guess…yeah. Go pee.”

Dongyoung smiles at that, gummy and adorable in its own way. “Thanks.”

He could do whatever he wanted but he also could not. She swears she will never fight with him again but she also knows that is impossible. Dongyoung had committed his crime and he had to battle with the consequences. It was definitely war for the two, only that he did not know it.

But that was just a head-start for her. Her enemy did not even know what awaited him.

Blind dates are terrible. Really, it was not one of those speeches about how beauty meets the eye and there had to be certain physical attraction for two people to like one another, but it was just a matter of awkwardness. There had to be certain ice-breaking techniques that needed to be followed before asking someone out on a date, but blind-dates were the new arranged marriages of the century and with how widely popular they had gotten for people who were not that good at finding someone for themselves, she had decided to give it a try. Had, a verb in past, because she is in the comfort of her apartment, taking off her shoes by her door as a raged sigh left her lips. Alone again, without a man kissing down her neck as he pinned her to the wall and whispered all the things they were going to do on her bed. She would have even settled for the promise of a second date but that did not happen.

It is her curse…or maybe Wonwoo was just a little bit too much of a gentleman. The librarian her friend had gotten to know while getting her PhD sounded like a great idea. According to the description she got a week ago, Wonwoo was a single guy around her age with the cutest eyes covered by rounded glasses with clear lenses and gold brimming. He liked writing, he also wrote some songs outside from writing books, and he was generally just interested in the same things as her. However, the moment they met she was met with the most gorgeous man she had seen in a while and in between shy smiles, the conversation ensued between the two. It was all fine, Wonwoo leaning in over the table to speak to her and sometimes tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ear, touching her hand or laughing too much at her jokes. Those were all signs of interest…until they weren’t.

But by the time they got to her door, Wonwoo thanked her for the evening and he said that it was a really nice play-date. Play-date. Exactly the words some mother would use when explaining why her son had brought his friends home. She does not know if Wonwoo thought of her as too childish or he was just too awkward to call it a date.

Still, it is very weird.

With a quick motion, she ends up sitting without her shirt and her skirt on the couch, feeling the cold air of the air conditioner hitting her skin after walking up the stairs. She thought it was better to take the stairs just to have more time with Wonwoo, but that obviously did not work. For a moment, she looks up at the ceiling, wondering if her life is going to be as boring as it is at that very moment, but she pushes the thought away as she looks through her phone. First, she checks her social media and then, she sees the glistening icon of the dating app she works for. She has never used it, for she did not think it was necessary (key-word: past), so with a swift touch she ends up in the home page of the dating app.

It is impossible that she is drunk off wine, so the decision she takes is completely sober. First, she completes the information about her date and time of birth, then continuing with her interests and the questions that were sent her way. Before she knew it, she had already made an account. However, as she looks through pictures to put in her profile page, she stops herself.

She needs a glass of water. The glasses of wine she shared with Wonwoo were too sweet.

However, she thinks nothing of making an account in the app, strangely enough. Though, she should have paid more attention to it.

It is rare to hear Irene laugh or cackle or even make a sound in the office, for the woman hates her job. She is not particularly fond of online dating, she says she has had a few bad experiences and the least she wants is for someone to go through that thanks to her, but Irene says she needs the money and that’s why she stays. The gorgeous woman normally sat by the part of the office that was in charge of zodiac compatibilities and readings, but she also highly doubts the existence of zodiac signs. She’s weird, also a bit grumpy, but the woman in question barely talks to her, so Irene is not one of the coworkers she is the closest with. Still, when she turns to look at Irene, the woman covers her mouth to muffle her laughter and continues to look at her computer.

Weird.

However, she has a job to continue and by this time, she is trying to read over the reviews of the dates she prepared in the past week. The majority were good, but some girl was complaining about a guy named Mark Lee--apparently, the young man could barely speak a word to her before he ended up locked in the bathroom, too scared to even talk to her, and he never went out. The Cupid surely hoped he was okay, for it was not a good experience to have, but she owns up to her one star and continues looking at the reviews.

Then, a notification pops up in her email. Normally, most of the emails she got were from coworkers, some asking for advice or exchanging clients just to have better matches. However, when she clicks on the window, she realizes she had gotten an email from an unknown account and when she opened it, there are pictures of her account on the app. Not only that, but the person who wrote said email sent it to everyone in the office--probably the reason why Irene was finally laughing--and to top it off, they had written a message.

“Click. Click. Time for dick!”

She doesn’t know how she feels—bothered, maybe embarrassed, definitely angry, most likely like she wants to hide her face under the ground like an ostrich and let out the biggest scream, but there is something that she knows and that is that said email had to be created by someone in the office. That much was obvious, of course. Immediately, she knows who it is and it goes by the name of Kim Dongyoung, seated by his laptop as he worked diligently, cup of coffee placed over his desk, brown hair styled as it always is and his pink button down hugging his frame nicely. If only he was not so much of an asshole, the two would get along well.

Yet, when she was about to stand up and give Dongyoung an earful, an ultimatum, a sermon, she feels the weight of someone’s hands pushing her by the shoulders back on her seat and when she looks up at the person in front of her, she sees Taemin. The man with the plump lips and adorable features seems stressed, to say the least. “You won’t believe what just happened!” He starts and she feels a knot getting caught on her throat. “I was going to pair up two people that I just got in my list of clients and…dude, you were there! Someone is trying to catfish as you and everyone has been talking about it in the office.”

Taemin is just…not innocent, particularly, not dumb either, but he is pure in certain way—friendly enough to just come up with the fact that someone is trying to catfish as her. There is no one but herself behind that account, though. “Who sent that email?”

She is literally about to explode, burst, fly to the Sun with how angry she is and then, Taemin answers. “I sent it to the boss first. You know our app is against all types of catfish and then everyone was commenting on it.” He continues to look worried and with embarrassment, she clears her throat before sighing.

“It was me.”

“Yeah, in your picture! It was a picture I saw in your Instagram account before.”

“No, Taemin.” She starts. “It was me who created the account.”

Taemin looks baffled, as if he had just been thrown a bucket full of ice-cold water to wake up from a nightmare. He parts his lips, closes them, and then they open once again to let out a soft chuckle. “But why? You know most Cupids are not even allowed to make an account on the app.”

She widens her eyes. Shit, she had completely forgotten about that. It is against the rules of the company to create an account, mainly because it would be quite biased and the Cupids’ personal lives would be involved with work. “Uh…then let’s just pretend that it was actually catfish. Delete the account. Pretend like nothing happened.” She says that as she stands up from her seat and Taemin gives a few steps back when he realizes just how close they are.

Taemin is laughing and god, she does not know what she was thinking when she created an account. What she knew was that the email was sent by the boss thanks to Taemin, but the comments that were added to the version she received of said email were done by people in the office. She absolutely knows who it was, a man whose presence was enough to anger her and someone who wanted to take revenge because she had screamed at him weeks ago after she realized he had stolen one of her clients. Dongyoung is an asshole, but she never thought he would go that far. “You got it.”

The few steps that she takes to get to Dongyoung’s cubicle are embarrassing, mainly because everyone had seen her account and it was…worthy of laughing, but still not a memory that she wants to linger on too much. The two were like the two halves of an infinite that never realized just how complementary they could be to the other, so they hated each other for it. She takes the armrests of Dongyoung’s chair in her palms and she makes him turn around, staring at him face to face and seeing nothing more than his pair of brown eyes. Dongyoung is cute-looking, almost like a person who could never harm anyone, but she knows that is not true.

Because the moment he looks at her, he starts laughing. She hastily tries to cover the embarrassment on her face, but she fails and instead, she opens her mouth to speak. “You did it. You wrote that comment—!”

“No…but I did know that it was not a catfish.” Dongyoung explains and then, he moves his hand around the office. “Everyone here thinks it is catfish so they are laughing at your responses.” She cannot help but want to erase the smile on his face. His eyes turn into crescent moons and his cheeks get fuller, adorable yet devilish. “Cute, though, your responses are cute.  I knew it was really you because you totally look like the type that enjoys movie dates and—”

“You ass.” She whispers and Dongyoung stops smiling, widening his eyes as he looks up at her. He blinks softly and then, he tilts his head to the side.

“I don’t get it. What do you—?”

“You wrote the: Click. Click. Here for the dick part in the email.” If there are a few things that she is certain about in her life, they are global warming and the fact that Dongyoung had been disrespectful enough to write such a thing. Dongyoung’s fingers reach to push the strands of his dark hair back.

And then, he speaks as if nothing had happened, but he is clearly taken aback. “I did not. Really. I am not that…creative.”

But she is enraged and she speaks without knowing exactly what she is saying. “Do you know I am a joke in this office now?!” Dongyoung scowls, rolling his eyes before trying to move his chair to continue his work but she stops him. “Dongyoung, this is serious!” Though, she is trying hard not to concentrate on the floral scented cologne he used and how it mixed nicely with the smell of his shampoo. They were too close, but she is too enthralled in her own anger.

“And I get it, I really do!” By that time, Dongyoung’s eyes are wide and scowling, looking into hers as if he does not mind the closeness between the two. “But I did not do it. I did not write that.”

“Then who was it? Huh?” She asks, not even giving him a second to respond. “You hate me, Dongyoung—”

“I do not.” He adds curtly and she scoffs.

“Come on. Let’s not lie to each other.”

Dongyoung sighs deeply. “You hate me. I don’t hate you.” Then, when he looks at her, she feels different. All this time, she had wondered why people were always so in love with Dongyoung, but now she realizes there is something…cute about the man. Relaxing. Thrilling. Interesting. “Are we done here?”

“Tell me who did it.”

“It was one of the newbies. Can you leave me alone?”

He looks quite funny when he is angry, but for the time being she pushes his seat back until it hits the edge of his desk lightly and she nods her head. “I hope you do the same thing.”

Dongyoung turns around, returns to his work and then, he whispers. “Won’t have a problem with that.”

If there was one person in the world that deserved the title of most annoying human being, it was Kim Dongyoung.

A month later, the whole dating app ordeal still follows her.

What’s so wrong with online dating? It was stupid that even matchmakers in her own company had a taboo mindset about signing up on an app to find someone. Surely, she was not finding love back at that moment, more-so someone to spend time with, but that was far from the point. She is physically and mentally tired of having to deal with people constantly reminding her of her little ‘catfish’ moment, even when Dongyoung, Taemin and herself knew the truth. Of course, love and dating were two different things and perhaps, she should just wait for both. Until then, her curse shall continue.

Nonetheless, Dongyoung is the type of person that keeps bothering her. They do not share a lot of words with one another, but when they do, more often than not they are arguing about something. There is no reason behind it, her only excuse is that she can’t stand him and whenever asked, Dongyoung always says he doesn’t, but he lies through his pretty thin lips with that nice-sounding voice of his. Not that she would ever accept that those are compliments that had ran through her head when she was arguing with Dongyoung.

When she received a notification from her phone, she wondered what it could have been but she was surprised to see that she had gotten a notification from the dating app, though she had most certainly deleted her account. However, someone—and that definitely was Dongyoung—had restored her account and paired her up with someone whom she completely did not know. Attractive? Yes. Potentially her perfect man? Most certainly…but she was, and is, angry.

That is the reason why she asks Yoonoh in such a peachy day to send her the address to Dongyoung’s apartment and he may or may not have asked her to not fight with him, but she never listens. The fabric of her tank top was beige and it contrasted with the summery day outside of her car, trying her hardest to calm down her breathing. It does not matter how great of a match the option Dongyoung gave her was, she still felt heavily disrespected. Not because he had it easy with love did he have to make fun of her!

Because that is one of the insecurities she never talks about. Her fear of not finding anyone that lasts a lifetime.

And it’s stupid…what lasts a lifetime these days? She is at blame of growing uninterested of some nice guys in the past, too, but that was not her fault. It was life’s fault, quite clearly.

Dongyoung does not live too far away and when she looks down at her phone while inside the elevator, she realizes that he lives in the very last floor. Her mind is fuming, images of the man that wore his uniform neatly to work passing by her brain and indicating that she would—quite possibly—argue with him until his ears fell off. The building he lives in is very classy and when she comes face to face with the door of his apartment, she realizes the walls were baby blue and the doors were in a bone-like color of white. Her knuckles quickly scrap the surface of his door, knocking harshly and quickly to get his attention.

Only that the person that opens the door looks nothing like Dongyoung. Still tall and handsome, but not Kim Dongyoung.

Did she knock on the wrong door?

“Ah…sorry…is this Kim Dongyoung’s apartment?”

The man ahead of her seems happy to hear say name and he presses his weight to the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow. “Yeah. He’s my little brother.” Oh, so he was Dongyoung’s brother. Suddenly, she feels embarrassed that she even decided to go there. One thing is screaming at him in the middle of the office, another different thing was exposing him in front of his family. “Who are you?  Dongyoung told me he was not waiting for anyone.”

She rubs the back of her neck, an awkward laugh spilling past her lips as she imagines Dongyoung spending a nice time with his brother but she had to interrupt it. God, she really is dense just like how Dongyoung says. “…A coworker of his.”

“A Cupid, then.”

“Just with no diaper.” The man lets out a laugh that almost killed her. Did she think that was a good joke? “Ah…I’m going to leave.”

“No, no!” Gong Myung denies it quickly as he grips her wrist to stop her but the touch is soon gone, placing his hands inside his pockets soon after. “I am going to tell him you’re here…you name is…?” She tells him her name and Gong Myung nods his head, indicating her to hold up with one movement of his hands before disappearing through the hallway. Sooner than later, she hears mumbling and speaking and somehow, she wants to take that time to run away but she doesn’t. In the matter of seconds, Dongyoung is standing by his door, wearing a pair of fitted jeans and a white hoodie. He quirks an eyebrow and he smells like body wash, his features showing confusion but also displaying just how naturally handsome he was.

Dongyoung releases a big sigh and then, he looks over his shoulder. “Are you going to scream at me?”

She searches for her phone inside the pocket of her jeans, taking it out and opening the app as she speaks. “I got a notification today and my account has been restored.  It says some Cupid paired me up with a guy and that guy is a client of yours.”

The black haired man squints his eyes to look at the screen, recognizing the facial features of the man in question. “I would never pair you with Matthew, though. You don’t seem like the type to like gym rats.”

“…So you did it ironically.”

Dongyoung runs his fingers through his hair, gripping on it and closing his eyes tightly. “I don’t care who you date or don’t date, is that so hard to understand?”

“But this is such a bad joke. I can’t help but think it’s you—” Yet, she is starting to believe day by day that Dongyoung is actually not that fond of her, that much was noticeable, but also that he did not care what she did with her life. “…Then who is it?”

Clearly, Dongyoung is not the type of person who speaks about what someone did or did not do, but he is tired of fighting with her and with a deep sigh, he opens his eyes to look at her. “It’s Ten. The intern. You know…he’s just…having fun with it. He thinks it’s funny.” When she is about to open her mouth to spill a bunch of insults towards the intern, Dongyoung shakes his head. “Just let it go. Speak to the manager and tell him that you don’t want your account up there anymore. There. Case closed.”

For a moment, Dongyoung is the voice of wisdom but then she is reminded of how much she had been ridiculed thanks to Ten’s wrongdoings. “But he deserves to be punished for this!”

“Just let it go.” Dongyoung says. “Breathe in and breathe out. That’s all you gotta do.”

She does as he says and then, she feels her shoulders falling out of embarrassment. “So you never did any of this?”

“I tried telling you for months.” Still, he gives her a smile when he says those words and then, he holds onto the door. “So, we’re done here.”

“Yeah…” Yet, when Dongyoung was about to close the door, she placed her hand over the surface of it and with a bewildered look on her face, she says: “I am so sorry…for being an ass for the past month.”

It was a moment in which it felt like there was a thick line being cut in between the two. They are not closer, but they are in peace. Dongyoung accepts the apology and with their goodbyes, she decides to get out of his building and back to her place. Though, inside her head, the thought of confronting Ten really goes through her head.

Crisp and warm, like a long red coat draped over her shoulders in a long winter night, with a mug of hot chocolate filled with marshmallows by her hands as she watched one of those weirdly satisfying videos on the internet. That’s how she would describe love now that she actually feels it—or kind of, really, it was the closest she could get to real love—. Matthew was his name, definitely tall and incredibly handsome, with thick and muscly arms that wrapped around her waist to give her a hug, swinging from side to side to send a smile her way before pressing his lips to her in a breathtaking kiss. He fit her like a ring to her finger, for she was opting on cancelling her date with him through the app until she got a good glimpse of him and she decided to give it a try.

One thinks that a prince charming comes magically to your life, but sometimes all it took was a certain man named Ten to press a few buttons and pair them together. The newbie had some talent, she had to admit, for her relationship with Matthew blossomed for the moment she met up with him at the local cinema and they talked endlessly about the movie soon after. Turns out Matthew knew how to dance, just like the actor in the movie, and his smile is very bright and his hugs are extremely comforting.

She prays he gives her a kiss on the first date, and he does, he was so perfectly made for herself that she thought he was the one only for the smallest fraction of a second when he presses his lips to hers. Matthew held her waist delicately, head tilting to the side to deepen the kiss and he smelled like spray deodorant and something musky, but he was so…perfect in his own way. A gym rat with the softest heart and just the right amount of mischief.

Because that was what she always wanted, a man that had her wishing for more, that had her at the edge of her seat looking for what she wanted to say next, and that’s what Matthew brought into her life. The second date was better, for he invited her to his favorite restaurant and throughout dinner his knees were touching with hers and his hand was toying with her fingers and he just had a small glint behind his eyes that told her that he was really enjoying himself. His kisses tasted even better on the second date.

She could barely get off her phone, tired but also enchanted because the man loved to send her pictures of himself when working out, posing in front of a mirror, sometimes with a shirt, other times without it. There was more to it, because he was not only hot and burned every single cell of her body, but he also made her feel fuzzy. You know that feeling you get when you drink soda really fast and your stomach is churning? She was starting to get used to said feeling and she liked it, because it came from her crush on Matthew and how he made her feel. He always asked how she was, what she was doing, if she wanted to work out with him. He wanted to have her by his side at any given time.

And two months had passed by and it was comfortable to say that they were in a relationship, but they also were not. He never said or asked for it, per say, but she swore that they gave everything to each other, including their bodies and soul. Every Saturday she went out to work out with him and every Monday they had takeout in her couch. It was not perfect, but he seemed like the last try—

Her last try with love.

And of course, there is a catch…he was not the last man she would ever have.

That night was the Boss’ birthday party. The old man did not have a wife, much less did he have children, so he normally celebrated his birthday with his employees. The pink shirts were changed for pink and white clothing, balloons decorating the otherwise very gray office in the same color scheme, there was a really pretty peach cheesecake somewhere over a table as well as a red velvet cake that someone in the office had prepared and a lot of sweets. Love was sweet, and even when the Boss was not particularly fond of dating, he still believed in real love. Everyone had gathered together to drink, eating and chatting and dancing and enjoying some time with the people they get to see every day, but she is not happy and it shows through her scowl, on the way she stares at nothing in particular, in her slouched posture and the way her knees cross and then her calves separate as she rests her elbows on her knees. Her phone is in between her hands and she feels ridiculous for taking a picture in the perfectly revealing pink dress she wore for that night and sending it to her…something.

Ex-boyfriend? Ex-hook up? Ex-something? Matthew was one of those things, but he had decided to break things off with her only thirty minutes after she got to that party. After he told her just how gorgeous she looked and how bad he wanted to have her in front of him to ravish her body. He said enough was enough—through a text—and he obviously added the fact that it was him that had ruined it. She asked if he had cheated, he said he did not…he simply said that he did not feel like entering a serious relationship when in reality, that’s all she wanted.

Because when you have a man that loves you like she thought he loved her, you just want to have him forever all for yourself. She sighs, moving the thin and delicate straps of her baby pink dress that hugged her body nicely, it even cupped her chest in a way that attracted attention to it, the heart necklace she opted to wear making her sick all of the sudden. Of course, she still has that curse that haunts her—the fact that she cannot keep a relationship is saddening and no man is ever interested in her in the way she is interested in them. Taemin has tried to talk to her, but she closed himself up for him and even when Yoonoh brought most of the food there with himself, she doesn’t want to eat. Even Ten had vexed to get her attention while offering a bottle of beer but she refused.

After all, it was Ten’s fault! He is the one that set her up with Matthew on the first place!

Suddenly, she lifts her gaze when she feels someone looking at her and when she realizes who it is, she almost wants to laugh. Again, almost, because her blood is boiling and her blood pressure is up the roof. Dongyoung is looking at her, wearing an all-pink suit and he would have looked like an angel if only she wasn’t so angry. His hair is sleeked back and by the position she is in, her cleavage is pretty much all he could see, his eyes trailing down momentarily before he sends a tight lipped smile her way. The only response she gives him is an eye-roll.

And she thinks that’s enough. It should be, to say the least. However, she hears the sound of someone sitting by her side and she guesses that it could be her Boss, considering that everyone there must be talking about her, but she is surprised when she sees a tiny glass being placed on her hand, little pink sprinkles in the shape of hearts placed on top of the cream of the small apple pie. “You should have some. They are delicious.” She knows that voice. It is calming and somehow it is melodically pleasing and it is so Dongyoung’s. When she looks over to her side, his legs are parted and he is looking at her. “Did you know Yoonoh actually did not bake these?  He asked one of his baker friends that works downtown. His name is Lee Taeyong and he has the cutest dog—”

“What are you doing here?” She asks, though she does not stop herself from picking up the miniscule spoon on the mini pie to put some of the cream inside her lips. Indeed, said baker was great with a capital G. Dongyoung seems taken aback and instead of responding to the question she asked, he says:

“Can you stop interrupting me?”

“No.” She adds. “You never talk to me. Why now?”

Dongyoung leans back on his seat, letting out a loud sigh that silently said you’re so dense, because that is what he always tells her and what he always will. “You’re just so clearly heartbroken about something. It’s none of my business, but it would be rude not to help you liven up a bit.”

Had Dongyoung ever been as enchanting as he was at that moment? Not really. Suddenly, his shoulders were broad and his thighs were great and his eyes were just two set of perfectly placed brown irises. All those things remind her of Matthew, sadly. They were completely different, Matthew and Dongyoung, but for now she can’t help but compare the two. “...Is it that obvious?” Dongyoung nods and she rolls her eyes again, opting to follow his action of leaning back on her seat but she is surprised to feel Dongyoung’s arm around the edge of the chair and he doesn’t move. Damn tease. “Okay, listen, you’re like a master of…I don’t know, love or some shit like that. Right?”

Dongyoung elongates a hum before putting his arm over his thigh, breaking the contact with her. “Kind of. I’d call it a sixth sense…I just put two people together who I think could vibe with one another.”

“Right.” She finishes. “One quick question…is it bad if you can’t make a man settle down? Like, does that mean you did not enchant him enough or…?”

“It means he is not ready for a relationship yet.” Dongyoung says, quirking an eyebrow and absolutely knowing that was her case. “I had already told you gym rat boy was not for you.”

She whines and then she presses her elbows to her knees once again. “But why not?!” She asks. “He is not superficial. He’s sweet and funny and maybe a bit of an air-head at times but he is the only man who gave me attention I wanted for the last…I don’t know, year, years?”

It sounds pathetic and it seems like it also made Dongyoung feel bad, because he took a long sip of his glass of wine before clearing his throat. “No.” He denies. “I just could tell that you were in different phases of your life…that does not make any of you at blame.”

“…And how can you know that?”

Dongyoung chuckles, his shoulders shaking and the sound of his tone like a prince’s, mighty and delicate, before he speaks again. “Because it shows in your face. You like impossibilities. It thrills you. You probably were one of those teenagers that read stories about a prince falling in love with a poor woman and they could never be together—that is just who you are. If someone like him, a natural prince charming, came into your life you’d fall in love. It was clear as day.” She feels…well, quite annoyed and judged. She isn’t like that at all, or so she thinks, the only thing that she wants to hold onto is the possibility of real love. She isn’t getting younger…and she is ready to just have someone to cuddle and kiss and love and give all of herself to. Is that so wrong? “And Matthew likes…well, girls like you. I’d say girls like you two years ago. Edgy and witty and snaps easily and always tells him the truth. You also seem like you praised the hell out of him…that is a plus for him.”

Okay, so he kind of can read minds. Maybe, he is some kind of psychic and she’s out there believing that he is that good of a matchmaker. “So we’re impossible?” She asks and she feels her heart draining any contents that she had. She promises right then and there that she will never fall in love again—that Matthew is the only man she’ll ever love.

“Yeah.” Dongyoung winces with his words and then he gives an awkward pat to her knee. “If it works for you…stop looking. Just, stop looking for a moment and someone will arrive.”

“But I am cursed!”

“That’s Taemin and his folklore tales.” Dongyoung swats his hand as if it was nothing and maybe loneliness it just one big nothing. That is why she should get used to it, to the pampering nights and the face-masks, to the romance movies and the nights wishing to have someone by her side. But she has herself. “You’re not…cursed. You’ve just found very…particular men.”

“Don’t say it—” However, he cuts her off.

“Assholes. You find assholes.” And she had once called him an asshole. Dongyoung stands up from his spot beside her, his eyes trailing down to look at her cleavage and a smirk spreads across his face. She can’t help but feel a bit powerful. Stuck-up Kim Dongyoung checking her out? She must look really good, then. “I’ll leave you alone.” That’s all Dongyoung says before turning around and going over to his group of friends. Of course, she is alone once again but somehow, she feels hopeful…

She will only admit it once: Kim Dongyoung is actually a better matchmaker than she will ever be, because he knows the downsides and the good side of love (indeed, there is only one good side to love) and it’s not so terrible to have him there to comfort her. Just then, she picks up her phone and deletes Matthew’s number, thinking that waiting will always bring her a better outcome.

Self-love is one hell of a road, bumpy and incredibly tiring, but once you finally come up with terms with how your body is, your mind works and your senses are, it all becomes a little bit easier. Sometimes, she thinks that a person’s real love will always be themselves—because you know yourself from the moment you’re born and you’ll die talking in your own head, and that’s just the way life works. Sometimes, there are things we hate that we should love and we’re the only ones who are in charge of changing that. That’s why she decides to treat herself to some pastries, putting on her favorite oversized denim jacket and just going to that one bakery where a man named Taeyong worked at.

According to Yoonoh, whose relationship is about to hit the four-year mark, Taeyong had met his girlfriend when one of his friends got some clothes done for a dance routine and ever since then, they live happily with a dog and a lot of sugar. That is far from the point, however, since the bakery is really pretty and there is a line, but it is worth it just those sweets that she had in her Boss’ birthday party. It was months ago but she never got tired of going to said place.

She’s playing with her phone when she hears the sound of someone walking up behind her, since she is the last one in line—well, was, now there is a man behind her. She does not pay attention to the man as she continues to play with one of the apps she had downloaded, occasionally looking up to see if the line had moved the slightest bit. Luckily for her, the people there were really efficient and she wouldn’t have to lose her weekend in waiting for some pastries.

That’s an exaggeration. It’s only Saturday.

When she asks for her sweets, specifically adding that special of white chocolate brownies that the worker was talking about, she picks up her baby blue box and turns around to go towards her car, but she is stopped when she collides with someone’s chest. She looks up to apologize and she gets halfway through it until she interrupts herself. “I’m so—Dongyoung?”

Dongyoung gives her an uncomfortable smile that then turns into a real smile. “Oh, hi. How did you find out where this bakery was?” She stands by his side as Dongyoung moves in line and asks the employee for some of his favorite pastries. Turns out he asks for those brownies she is just trying out today, too, but he seems quite confident about it. Maybe he was a common costumer?

“Yoonoh told me.”

“He’s good as a PR guy. I don’t know why he is a matchmaker.” Dongyoung says as he leans his hands against the counter and just then, she realizes just how veiny and pretty they were. “Have you had this place’s coffee?”

She shakes her head. “No. Is it good?”

Dongyoung nods his head, almost astonished that she hadn’t done such thing. “It’s better than any coffee I have ever had.” Then, he picks up his trail filled with his pastries and he tilts his head to the side. “Are you going anywhere? I was kind of going to eat alone…and you know, we can catch up on that whole Matthew thing while we’re at it.”

Eating pastries with her self-proclaimed enemy? Spending time with Kim Dongyoung, the man whose nose could only smell his own scent because he only cared about himself? Thinking of even remotely sitting in front of him risking an awkward conversation? “Yeah, sure.”

“That’s unexpected, really.” He says with short laughter before pointing at some table with his chin. “We can go there, if you’d like.”

“I don’t mind.”

And she surely does not mind because Dongyoung is a great listener and really rational, too. He speaks to her like a friend would and gives advice like a man whom had lived in years of wisdom. Soon, the conversation turns into interests and in reality, anyone looking at them would probably believe that they were two friends catching up and laughing. That afternoon, when she says her goodbyes, she realizes that Dongyoung does have a really pretty smile and while he says he’s not, he really is like a prince charming.

However, the little time they shared was soon forgotten and they came back to how they used to be. They don’t pay attention to one another, but there is peace. Normally, she is hanging around with Taemin and Dongyoung is always with Yoonoh—who just loves to annoy him—so there is no time for them to speak. Lately, she notices that Dongyoung answers less and less calls, that his neck is now completely clear of hickeys, that he simply looks...the same and feels the same, but there is something different. There, for a second, she wonders about Dongyoung’s status. She knows that some of her coworkers were single, but Dongyoung does not look like the type of man who would be single—probably not taken-taken, but he had to have someone.

And when she asks Taemin, asking him to keep yet another secret for her, he says that he doesn’t know but that he was going to ask Yoonoh. A day later, she receives some news telling her that Yoonoh denied telling Taemin about Dongyoung’s personal life, but someone else in the office gossiped with him about Dongyoung. Apparently, the man with the fluffy hair and cute eyes did have someone a few months ago, but they broke it off due to differences. She wonders how he does it, not show his emotions when he is clearly heartbroken, or maybe he was not heartbroken at all at the time. Perhaps, Dongyoung is so different from her and that is why he is the other side of the infinite, he just knows how to feel and when to do it.

However, that is not what bothers her that morning. What bothers her is the fact that she sat her ass down on her chair, flexed her fingers slightly to prepare for typing and she got to see her clients of the week, but she saw surprised to see a set of abs that she knew very, very well. Obviously, it was expected to have Matthew back on the dating app, but it was rather ironic that it ended up being her who had to pair him up with someone else.

And she says she does not want to pair him up with someone who is bad for him…but she kind of wants to.

A big sigh leaves her lips as she stands up from her spot and walks over to Dongyoung’s cubicle. The man realizes that there is someone there, or maybe he doesn’t, but he does not look away from his screen when she says. “Hey, would you do me a favor?” Clearly, the two were once enemies, or at least she hated him a lot, but now they were good to one another. Dongyoung stops typing and looks up at her, tilting his head to the side and trailing his eyes momentarily to her lips before nodding his head.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Dongyoung is a nice guy, the type of person who would help a coworker out, and it just shows. She leans over until they are face to face and she whispers.

“Matthew is my…customer and I kind of need you to take care of it. Pair him up with one of yours.”

Dongyoung looks like a fish as he opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again and then, only then, he finally speaks. “Jesus…okay, yeah. I will.” He breathes out and then, a smile appears over his face. “Would you be mad at him if I find him the love of his life?”

She thinks about it thoroughly, but she comes up with nothing. “I don’t think so.” She admits. Matthew was a good chunk of her life, a pretty short one, but she used to be really happy with him. Maybe, she just tried to have a chance with a man who was not the kind she needed. “But, please, use your pretty little magic on me. Like, is it really that hard to find a man who actually works for me?”

He actually huffs. Huffs, as if it was impossible to find a man that was just for her. “Give it time.”

“I’m tired of waiting.” She must sound like a brat, but she finds it easy to be honest with Dongyoung. “Please, just tell me what kind of man I have to look for.”

Dongyoung looks at her as if she was a complexity, like she was a puzzle that was too hard to solve and maybe, that is exactly what she is to men. He knows already that there is certain aura to her that speaks about power and that immediately brought attention to her, but it also brought some kind of fear to get too close. “A guy who likes a dare. Trust me, the man of your dreams will look at you from afar and then go for the win.”

Now it is her time to huff as she pulls away and rolls her eyes. “That’s stupid.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go back to work.”

Only that he was right.

“I want Yuta as my customer.”

“…In your dreams.”

“I have the perfect match for him.”

Dongyoung turns on his chair, raising an eyebrow before looking around the office. There was only one hour left until work hours were over and to be honest, he had finished with some of his couples for the day. “Again, in your dreams.” But there is a smile on his face and when she stars to whine about she had already planned his match, Dongyoung opens one of the drawers of his desk and he gets out a stack of UNO cards. “Whoever wins, gets the pretty boy.”

“Deal.”

Getting along with Dongyoung is a lot easier lately. She has learnt that the man has a good sense of humor and she has come to terms with the fact that he does deserve the title of Matchmaker of the Month. He drags a seat for her to take and they start playing a game of UNO. His concentrated face is quite cute, really, he squints his eyes and stares at her face to try to study her, but whether he fails or actually reads her escapes her. Either way, she really does want to have Yuta in her list of costumers—he was just perfect for dating! It was one of those rare cases in which she got a good feeling for a couple and she needs to make it happen. That is if Dongyoung lets her win.

It’s weird, how they don’t go out or spent time together all that much but she still feels like Dongyoung is quite like her friend. They are coworkers, sure, they see each other every day as well and that probably plays a big part on it, but he is clearly a nice person to hang around with. When he says UNO, he says with a smile on his face and when he wins, she is not really angry. Dongyoung’s gummy smile appears and it’s wide and cute, enough to lean over to slap him on the shoulder but when she does such motion, she ends up almost falling off her chair and with a laugh, she feels Dongyoung holding onto her hips to keep her from falling.

The silver of his ring seeps its coldness through her skirt and they are eye-to-eye as he continues to hold her. Her chest is pressed to his legs and Dongyoung has a smile on his face as he laughs as if nothing had happened. Just then, she realizes that Dongyoung’s hands would feel really good against her waist, hugging her and that his smile is even cuter from up close.

Cute. Very much so. That’s what he is.

“Are you crazy?” Dongyoung asks in between laughter and she doesn’t care if their Boss catches them laughing and playing around, but it is really a funny sight.

“You’re an ass. I almost fell because of you!” And that is what she will always do, blame Dongyoung for what she clearly did. It is kind of their thing, to always play cat and mouse, to live life trying to tease one another and get to each other’s nerves. That is the fun behind most of their conversations.

“You fell because you tried attacking me.” Dongyoung explains and then, when he tries to let go of her, she rests her hands over his thighs.

“Wait, I will fall if you let go of me—”

“It’s like thirty centimeters away from the ground. Don’t be dramatic.”

Yet, he still does not let go of her and as she is straightening her back, her palms dig into his very strong thighs and as Ten passes by, his body cladded by the pink button down and trousers, he let out a soft whistle as he said in his joyful and teasing tone. “Ooh, sexual tension. We love it!” After that, he adds a small growl that was supposed to be teasing and at that exact same moment, she stands up from her seat with an embarrassed look on her face. Since when was she this close to Dongyoung to just act like this with him?

“Nayuta is yours.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

To create an app was a hard task, to make it successful was even harder and of course, having an enemy in a field as wide as that was just…ordinary, yet threatening. Dating apps become more well-known by the day, when communication is only possible through a phone most of the time, and that is just what makes it so easy. That is why her Boss had invited two of his best ‘Cupids’ to one of the few parties he attended to. Apparently, there were going to be some awards given to the best-selling apps and some interviews here and there. Nothing too normal.

His best matchmakers, of course, were Kim Dongyoung and herself. The coldness of the place they were at brought some shivers to go down her spine and she got goosebumps in her uncovered arms, the golden fabric of her dress hugging her waist nicely. She tried hard to make her makeup look perfect, red lips and inner-corners popping with a glint of golden highlight. She looks…amazing in her own way, but she looks even better when is beside Dongyoung. He is wearing a dark suit and his hair is sleeked back, finally showing his forehead and his nicely shaped eyes. Their Boss was somewhere, talking to people and whatever could go through his head. She truthfully does not mind when she is having a perfectly good conversation with Dongyoung shared in between sips of wine and a lot of snacking.

Dongyoung is and will continue to be a mystery to her and she likes it. She likes the way he holds his glass of wine and how good his fingers looked, slender and quite short compared to his wide palm. Dongyoung looks at her as they speak, his eyes are not trailing down her chest because it was quite a conservative dress, but there is something about his eyes that told her he obviously thinks she is extremely attractive. It is a lie if you ever hear her say that she is not attracted as well, because there is something thrilling about having someone to bicker with, much more when he gives her one of those big smiles of his and she suddenly feels like she needs to annoy her for the rest of her days.

The problem starts when in said party they get to know two of the best matchmakers of another very popular app. A texting app more than a dating app, considering that most of their reviews consisted of unwanted dick pics and a lot of glitches. They are popular, somehow, and Dongyoung whispers into her ear when they were getting too close. Two males, elegant and people who deemed themselves as superior, reach them and then, the blonde one speaks.

“I am guessing you are the representatives of CupidOn.”

Dongyoung gives a tight lipped smile, nods his head and continues to drink his wine. Then, she clears her throat when an awkward silence ensues and sooner than later, the other matchmaker starts speaking again. “…Let’s be honest here for a second. Your app is very beautiful, very pink…but very old school. Blind dates and zodiac readings? That’s…just so…expected.”

She raises her eyebrows at the man’s words and she chuckles lightly. “It is surely better than just letting people decide. It gives some kind of…excitement, thrill. And of course, we ensure the safety of our customers.” She speaks so politely and professionally that Dongyoung feels like he is in awe. He stands behind her, looking at the two other very disrespectful men who thought they are talking to just some matchmaker. She was…well, out of this world.

“So you admit that you don’t take into consideration people’s attraction towards their picked date?”

Dongyoung scoffs. “We care about what’s most important. While we do take into consideration physical attraction, we pair them up based on how they are.”

“And what makes you think they are not lying in your little questionnaire?” Another one of the matchmakers speaks and she blows a raspberry. Working with love was surely a competitive field.

“…We do not know. Just like you don’t know if all your users are real.”

“Catfish is common in any situation.” The blonde one says and then, he gets closer to the two matchmakers. “Besides, our couples have lasted years and years on end. What do you have on your belt, honey?”

She is speechless, for the first time in an argument, and she really wishes she could come up with something quicker, but Dongyoung seems to read his mind and while pressing his cheek to the side of her head and wrapping his arm around her waist to rest his palm against her abdomen as his chest presses to his back, he speaks up. “Quite funny, actually. We are our own example!  We met through the app and ever since then, we have been happy.”

Wait…what the fuck?

Since when is she dating Dongyoung?

She met him at the office’s cafeteria while he was pouring himself a cup of coffee and he introduced himself to her when Yoonoh called for his attention. To think back of that moment, Dongyoung did catch her attention with his pretty smile and wide shoulders—as well as his small waist—but it had never gone to actual dating. They had only been friends for like…a few months, not even that much. Are they friends to start with? “Duh…uh…yeah…hah…” She tries to come up with something that sounds casual but she fails, instead, she straightens her back and only then she realizes just how warm Dongyoung’s body was compared to the coldness of the room. “I just get really flustered but me…me and my Dongyoung have been really happy ever since.”

The two matchmakers seem in awe and one of them breaks the tension when he laughs obnoxiously loud. “How unprofessional! Hiring clients instead of looking for professionals—”

Dongyoung wraps his arm around her tighter and with a smile, he says. “Sorry. We’re kind of busy at the moment.”

“I—uh…”

But Dongyoung doesn’t listen. He gives one of those diabetes-inducing smiles and then, he is off his way while wobbling with her as he continues to hold her. She stops on her tracks and that makes Dongyoung collide against her back. She tries not to concentrate on the tightness of his abdomen against her back and she releases a soft breath. “What exactly was that?”

Dongyoung takes a long swing of his wine, finishing it before sighing. “I don’t really know.” He replies and then, when she looks over her shoulder, he is smiling with his face flushed. “You like cheese?”

And it is even worse when her Boss asks her to take Dongyoung home because he can’t and Dongyoung is a little bit tipsy, not enough to be drunk, but enough to smell like wine. During the taxi ride, Dongyoung doesn’t say a lot but his presence is enough to bother her. She can only think of his smell, his smile, his very obvious attraction towards her and then, she starts to think of the times she has lived with Dongyoung ever since she started working in the matchmaking company. It all seems to fall down to the realization that Dongyoung doesn’t particularly crush on her and she doesn’t either, but there is something…and Dongyoung is a mystery, he has always been, she will always say it, he is a mystery that she knows oh-so-well and the only unknown part is the future.

You see, that is always the hardest part. Giving a step, forgetting about the million tries in dating and actually giving one single step towards the right person. It’s about waiting and knowing when to speak up. It’s all about having someone who is like an open book to you, but you can’t never quite explain what you feel towards them. But it’s immense.

And she once thought it was immense hatred towards the man, but now it’s something.

Something that shows when he is opening his door, his fingers playing with the doorknob slightly as she gives him an earful. “I need you to get to your bed safely and try not to sleep just now, in case you throw up. You’re not really drunk but…you know, just to make sure. It’s dangerous.” And Dongyoung tilts his head to the side, looking at her not-so-perfectly coated red lips and her eyes as she looks anywhere but at him. Dongyoung undid a few buttons of his shirt and his tie was loose, one of his hands holding the doorknob and the other waiting to touch her. “And…yeah…call me if you need anything!”

Dongyoung looks up and then, he stares into her eyes. “Actually, I do need something.”

She frowns, completely oblivious of what he wants. “What is it?”

“…So…I know you kind of hate me, or hated me, but I have been thinking about kissing you all night and it would be like…super romantic if I just do it, but I’m afraid you’ll slap me across the face or something thinking I’m a creep.”

She laughs. It is soft and somehow nervous but she laughs, because Dongyoung is a bit nerdy and a lot like the type of men she used to criticize because they take too fucking long to just take a step, but it is what it is and she actually enjoys the way he is. That’s what she wanted—someone who was different, who could be easily pulled apart from the others. She holds his jacket and she brings him closer to her lips, speaking against them as she smiles. “If you want to…”

Dongyoung tastes like some of the food they had at the party but he feels amazing. His kisses are delicate, not mischievous, he just simply knows what to do. He is not super passionate at the start, he is gentle and holds her waist as if it was made of glass, but then he takes a deep breath and he dives him, nose-deep, as if he was not afraid of drowning. Dongyoung is just that, a person who is sweet and selfless, comforting and relaxing. He is not afraid of water or trying, he is afraid of rejection but who isn’t? Right then and right now, it feels like a dot. A punctuation mark. A this is it.

“Stay with me.” He says after he pulls away and when she quirks an eyebrow, Dongyoung gives her an uncomfortable smile that makes his cheeks puppy and his eyes wide. “Not as in…I’ll try to sleep with you. I’m actually really sleepy and I just kissed you and it’s really late.”

And he is sweet. God, he is so sweet that she feels like there are not enough pick-up lines to ever battle against Kim Dongyoung. “As you wish.”

Ten knows.

Oh, Ten definitely knows. He spends most of his mornings at the office looking at the way those two look at one another. Sometimes, he even does so much as pretending he was going to eat one of those distasteful fruits inside the fridge to see the two talking, laughing, with his head thrown back and her hand resting on his thigh. On the first three weeks, Ten swore that they had fucked—it was just in the air, he said he could cut the sexual tension with scissors and he would lose the scissors and sure, it is none of his business but it is actually pretty interesting….but then again, they never talk much.

And then, Yoonoh tries to make him think that they are just friends but Ten knows that his left ass-cheek is friends with his right ass-cheek, but nothing more than that. He does not think that those two are friends, they once hated each other and the only step that could be taken was either peace or complete love. So he continues to study them and Dongyoung starts accompanying her home and making plans on having dinner together and suddenly, she stops complaining about how single and lonely she was, about how she was cursed and she would never find a man that loved her.

This smells…fishy.

So Ten figures out a month after that they might be dating, and it hits him like a bunch of bricks to his face because he swears that Matthew was her other half of an infinite, but that might not be it. He is actually pretty happy because Dongyoung is a mess of shy smiles and  a lot of gentlemanly actions and she is just girly with him, no longer fuming and arguing in screams, but bickering and fluttering her eyelashes and it’s…disgusting. Ten has never fallen in love but he knows that’s love.

The only person that could give him an answer was neither of those two, so he talks about it to his Boss, a bit to gossip, but also because he is genuinely curious. “…I just don’t get it. Didn’t they hate each other?” Ten asks as he takes a sip of his coffee, sitting over one of the desks as he talks to the Boss that is reading over the news that his employees give him about the couples they had paired up. Reviews, date finalizations, etc. “Like, Boss! I don’t seem to understand it! I knew they were like,” Ten gets off the desk and he sits in one chair, the back facing forward, his hands on either side of the seat. “Into each other in a sexual way…but isn’t it stupid for two people who hated each other to just…date?”

The Boss looks over his shoulder and he gives a short chuckle, looking at the couple that were not even looking at one another, yet it was clearly obvious that there was something pulling them together. “I think they never hated each other.”

Ten scoffs. “Boss, they did.”

“No,” The Boss confirms. “Dongyoung is just…very intelligent.” It is weird to explain it and when Ten listens to it, he’s intrigued. After all, love was quite a topic. “He knew how to push her buttons and get her attention, but he never quite expected her to react that way.”

“Did Dongyoung do all the work, then?”

Once again, the Boss shakes his head. “No, I feel like deep down she always thought of him, which is why she blamed him for your wrongdoings.” The man stacks the papers he had on his hands together and then he clears his throat. “But I congratulate you, Ten, you have created a couple without knowing. You’re the new matchmaker of the month.”

Ten widens his brown eyes and he smiles, one of those pearly smiles that could have anyone’s heart racing and then, he nods his head. “Cool.”

“Dongyoung—”

Dongyoung feels a kick against his leg and he groans, turning so his face could touch the cold side of the pillow and he sighed. “What?” There is a brief moment of silence and then, he hears the same beeping sound and he feels another kick against his leg. That time around, he does open one eye and he sees his girlfriend sprawled on the other side of the bed, one arm draped over her eyes and the other reaching out for him. One of her legs were over his and it was quite a weird position, but it was also rarely comfortable.

“Turn off the alarm.” And she says it so cutely that he feels annoyed. Her hair is a mess, her eyes are closed—though he cannot see them—and her lips are parted only the slightest. Dongyoung sees that her shirt had ridden up and he groans as he reaches for the bedside table by her side on his bed, turning off her alarm that she had forgotten to turn off the night before the weekend. God, she always forgets about those things and Dongyoung still asks her to come over. Tired and sleepy, Dongyoung does not move to the side of his bed and instead, he lets his entire weight drop over her body, her arms wrapping around his waist as she feels his eyelashes fluttering against his neck.

That is the thing, Dongyoung is so clearly the love of her life that she gets scared sometimes. It has only been a year since they started dating officially and it feels so oddly satisfying to know that there is someone in this world that loves her with her mistakes and without them. Dongyoung took a really long time to say those three words, unsurprisingly, but they were gladly met when he said them and ever since then, things have been looking up. Surely, they bicker every single day but they have learnt to understand one another.

Dongyoung’s shirt was in the way as she ran her fingers up and down his spine and there was a brief moment of peace before she felt him fidgeting. He has not fallen asleep yet, then. “I love you so much. Any other man would have kicked me out already.”

Dongyoung’s chest moves and maybe, it was the ghost of a laugh. “Don’t give me ideas.”

“You would never.”

“…Do you think so?”

“I really do. You love me.”

“I do.” Dongyoung confirms and then, he pulls away from her and lays on his side, fixing his blanket and fluffing his pillow to go back to sleep when he hears his girlfriend’s voice.

“I’d give you head simply for being so sweet.”

And she knows what she is doing and Dongyoung perks up at that, bunny-like eyes widening as he appears in her line of vision, covering the ceiling as he looks into her eyes. That is the best thing about having someone falling in love with you and it was that no matter how bad you looked early in the morning with your hair made a mess and some morning breath, they would not really voice it out or if they did, they would not care. It was a matter of getting used to one another. “…You would?”

“I could.” She says and Dongyoung licks his bottom lip. He’s awake. “Do you want me to?”

Dongyoung tilts his head to the side, as if pondering. Sleep or a blowjob. Sleep or getting laid. “I really want to sleep though.”

“Then sleep.”

“But can I save it for later?” Dongyoung asks and his voice is tiny, enough to make her laugh out loud and she takes his face in between her hands to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Anytime you want it, boo.” She continues to laugh as she teases Dongyoung and there is a faint blush over his face, but he is also laughing. “I’ll always be here.”

And that’s a promise because there were a million tries and then the best one…Kim Dongyoung. The man whom she’ll always love, maybe for a lifetime or maybe not.

 That’s the exciting thing about love.

[captainmeowvelwrites]

You Times Two (Ch.3)

Pairing: Marinette/Ladybug | Adrien/Chat Noir Words: 3354 Summary: Ladybug knew this was necessary. She was the Guardian. He had the Cat Miraculous. But when his suit evaporated in a glow of pale green, she sure hadn’t expected him to have something far more precious: her heart. Cross-posted: AO3 and FFN

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | ...

Recap: Previously, on You Times Two… Marinette considered growing a magnificent beard and running away to join the circus. She reflected on the ramifications of Chat Blanc, which honestly, the author is still too upset about to make light of right now. And just to top it all off, Clumsy Girl smacked Golden Boy in the face with a door, then somehow called him Chadrien. Has our favourite gal’s cover been blown? Has her kitty quite literally had some sense smacked into him? And purrhaps most importantly, is his lil’ button nose okay? You can probably hazard a guess, but read on, I say!

---

Chapter Three

Adrien left Marinette in the locker room and stepped out into the morning sun, its warmth bathing his skin.

But the heat of his cheeks had a different source.

As he twisted his ring – something he often did when his brain was abuzz – he glimpsed his reflection in a tinted window, a reminder that his hair was still a bit of mess. He reached for his bangs, his thoughts drifting a minute into the past.

There'd been a light in Marinette's eyes, and a sense of ease about her, when he'd ruffled his hair.

Of course, that had only lasted a second.

And then, like Ladybug, she'd called him Chadrien.

That had to be a coincidence.

Ladybug had fumbled over her words last night, as Marinette often did.

Marinette's eyes were like the sky after a storm, a stunning shade of bluebell, just like Ladybug's. How had he not noticed that before?

His hand fell from his hair to his side, as his lips drew into a resolute line.

No, his suspicions were impossible.

Marinette was Multimouse.

She couldn't be Ladybug too.

His eyes sunk to his shoes as he continued to think of his lady. The reality was, she wasn't his lady. She never had been.

There was a thickness in his throat and a void in his eyes as he wondered—again—if things might've been different, if not for that boy. She'd said she couldn't even imagine a world without him, whoever he was.

And that hurt.

A lot.

To an extent, it had depleted his hope of something ever blooming between them. But more than that, it always made him wonder if she could say the same for him. Could she imagine a world without Chat Noir?

Truly, Adrien didn't know the answer.

His fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms.

This shouldn't matter anymore.

He was dating Kagami.

Well, sort of.

The press had snapped them eating ice cream together. And yes, they'd almost kissed—but they hadn't made things official, despite what the media were saying.

Regardless, everyone thought they were official—including Kagami.

He hated this.

Not because Kagami was basically his girlfriend, but because he'd never imagined this unravelling quite as it had.

He'd imagined a rose-covered rooftop and a candlelit dinner. He'd imagined a passionate declaration and actually asking the girl to be his girlfriend. He'd imagined a night ending in a flurry of hugs and kisses and laughter.

And he'd imagined it all with Ladybug.

He buried his face in his palms, where the dent of his nails still showed.

This wasn't fair on Kagami.

But Ladybug didn't love him back. She never would.

And despite the way he felt about her, to say he didn't care for Kagami was a lie.

Kagami had always been upfront with him. Maybe that's why he'd been so drawn to her. She was assertive, strong-minded and knew exactly what she wanted.

A lot like Ladybug, a part of him whispered.

A very annoying part.

With a huff, Adrien pinched the bridge of his nose. It was still tender from its encounter with a door and for some reason, that made him smile.

Plagg peeked up at him from beneath his white overshirt. "So why'd you have to come out here to wait for your friend?"

Adrien tensed. "Plagg," he whispered, his eyes snapping around the school courtyard, finding it empty. "Hide before someone sees you." He tugged the edge of his white shirt over his kwami's head.

Of course, Plagg squeezed his way back out despite his chosen's protests. "People are blind," he whined. "Not to mention I blend in with your shirt."

Adrien heaved a sigh, yielding to Plagg's question. "I just have a lot on my mind. That's all."

"Like what, hmm?"

"Since when do you care about something that isn't cheese-related?" He was half-joking.

"Oh please," Plagg barked. "I just wanna know what's got you in such a tizz."

Adrien glowered at that and glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting Marinette to barge out of the locker room right that second. When she didn't, he looked down at Plagg. "Marinette: that's who Ladybug reminded me of last night."

Plagg groaned in time with an eye roll. "So what? Marinette's always talking nonsense. Ladybug did for one measly night!"

"But, Plagg," Adrien said, desperation seeping through his words, "this isn't the first time I've suspected she was Ladybug!"

"Have you forgotten about Kwamibuster?" Plagg grimaced. "She was Multimouse. We even saw her and Ladybug side-by-side."

A thought flashed in Adrien's eyes. "Miracle Queen," he announced, and Plagg tipped his head. "Why didn't she show up to collect the Mouse Miraculous?" He cupped his chin, glancing toward the morning sky. "Every other Miraculous Wielder did."

"She isn't a Miraculous Wielder anymore," Plagg said simply. "Ladybug told her as much after she revealed her identity to you. Or maybe she just didn't get stung by those nasty bugs."

His hopes were crushed as quickly as they'd come, and he realised how much he'd been hoping to begin with. Did he want Marinette to be Ladybug? Was that why he kept searching for reasons to suspect her?

He pursed his lips, wrestling with these ruminations and the risks that came with them. His suspicions were circumstantial, if that. And if he ever learned Ladybug's identity, it should be on her terms.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder…

"I… guess you're right, Plagg." The disappointment in his voice was thicker than glue.

"Of course, I'm right!"

Adrien tapped his lips, eyes drifting skyward once more. "And Ladybug did say we don't know each other out of costume." Though she'd also said she wouldn't tell him if they did. "You know who Ladybug is, right? From when we faced Mr Damo—The Dark Owl."

"If you're suggesting what I think you are—"

Adrien shook his head. "You know I'd never betray Ladybug's trust like that."

"Good," Plagg said, throwing his whiskers in the air, "because I couldn't tell you who she is even if I wanted to. Tikki would kill me." His paw emerged from beneath Adrien's white shirt, and he placed a thoughtful claw to his lips. "As for Ladybug's stuttering last night, maybe your identity just… took her off guard? For all you know, she was starstruck! Like that time you took me to the Aligre Market." His green eyes glided upward, glazing over, and he let out a dreamy sigh. "So… much… artisan cheese…"

Adrien gaped—and it took him at least five seconds to form words. "You… You think Ladybug could be a fan of mine?"

"It makes a lot more sense than your stupid theory."

Adrien had never even considered that possibility, but Plagg was right. It did make sense. Maybe that's why she'd freaked out.

"But," Plagg continued, "how should I know if she's a fan of yours? Just ask her at patrol tonight."

Adrien's chest tightened as he pictured that very scenario. "But what if she is a fan and freaks out again like last time?" Worry weighed on his lips. "Or what if she's not and thinks I'm arrogant and—"

The thump of a hand against wood made him jump, and Plagg vanished beneath his shirt.

"Sorry I took so long!"

He turned to find Marinette, her hair a little more frazzled. Her eyes snapped around the courtyard, not meeting his.

Oh no! Had she heard him talking?

Adrien threaded his fingers, his thumbs circling each other. "No – No problem." He swallowed and forced a small smile. "I was just – uhh…"

"Don't worry," Marinette chimed, finally looking his way. Her eyes creased as she smiled. "I stalk—uhh, talk to myself too. All the time. I mean – uhh – some of the time." She cleared her throat. "So I – uhh – guess we're both nosy—I mean crazy."

"Oh, I…" Adrien broke eye contact, glancing between her and the ground. "What did you hear?"

"N-Nothing!" Marinette shrieked, waving her hands back and forth. "Just – uh – mumbling and stuff." She looked away, her fingers drumming against the straps of her backpack. "So, umm…" She nodded towards the nearby stairs. "Class, then?"

Adrien forced a chuckle, only for his voice to crack. And now they were both blushing. "Ri-Right." He squeezed the strap of his shoulder bag with one hand and extended his other toward the stairs. "After you, then."

Marinette took a single step forward and, true to form, somehow tripped over air.

Adrien's hands were on her shoulders in an instant, barring her greeting with the ground. "Are you okay?"

"No—I mean yes!" She peeled his hands from her shoulders and practically jumped back to her full height. "I'm just – uhh – clumsy. Ha ha. I am so clumsy." She flashed an oddly wide grin, her hands flying this way and that as she spoke. "Like, the Queen of Clumsy. Any physical activity whatsoever and I am not your girl. Not by a mile. Heck, I couldn't even run a mile. Because, y'know – I'm so unfit. And clumsy. Did I mention I'm clumsy?" The second she finished her spiel, her eyes shot to her ballerina flats.

Adrien managed a laugh, despite how his brows squished together. "Uhh… Yes, you did mention that." His brows settled, but he continued to smile. "And Marinette, you're not as clumsy as you think you are."

Marinette wiped her palms across her pants. "I'm… I'm not?" she squeaked, peering up at him.

"Well, I've experienced your dancing first-hand, remember?" Adrien slid an arm around her shoulders, showing a supportive smile. "And let's not forget your fencing and ice-skating skills. Try not to sell yourself short, okay?" His arm slipped from her shoulders to rub the nape of his neck, and he laughed lightly. "But maybe do try to be more careful sometimes."

She stared at him with wide eyes. "Uh – Um – Yeah. I'll… try to be more careful."

With that, Adrien extended his hand toward the stairs. "Shall we?"

---

She'd eavesdropped on Adrien and Plagg – but not on purpose!

In fact, she'd been about to shove those pesky doors aside when her name – or rather, Ladybug's name – had given her pause.

She'd only caught bits and pieces, but by the sound of it, Adrien suspected she was Ladybug. And in that moment, Chat Blanc's petrifying face had flashed through her mind. That was all the incentive she'd needed to throw him off her tracks, by deliberately tripping over air and pointing out her lack of physical prowess.

He couldn't know she was Ladybug.

Not yet.

Perhaps not ever.

Marinette quite literally shook that thought to the outskirts of her mind. Now, around Adrien, was not the time and place for it.

Instead, she panted excessively as they scaled the stairs, hoping he'd bought her 'I'm so clumsy and unfit' charade—if she could even call it that. She wasn't unfit, but she was a royal clutz, even if Adrien didn't think so.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Marinette's mind wandered elsewhere. She wasn't late thanks to an akuma, so her secret identity wasn't at risk. Did she even need to make up an excuse?

She could just say she'd slept in.

In fact, that's exactly what she'd done.

On purpose.

To avoid the very boy she was arriving late with.

A groan slipped through her lips—and of course, Adrien heard it.

"Everything okay, Marinette? You sure you're not hurt?"

"Err – Yeah! I'm – I'm fine." Her eyes flew this way and that, as she considered an excuse. "I was just… uh…"

Adrien's eyes were fixed on her and once more, she took in his mussed hair… so reminiscent of Chat Noir.

"I was just wondering what to say to Miss Bustier?"

Adrien smiled, his bangs bobbing with each step he took. "You mean, how do we explain our lateness?" He adjusted the strap of his bag, his ring in full view. "We don't. In my experience, Miss Bustier is fine as long as you apologise and don't disrupt the lesson beyond that. It's Ms Mendeleiev that's a little trickier to deal with."

"Tell me about it," Marinette muttered, only to gasp and go tense. "I mean, uhh… Yeah, I've been crate—late to her class a few times. It's never easy."

They stopped outside their classroom door, Adrien's hand returning to her shoulder. He leaned in close and this time, her unfit charade wasn't the reason her breath hitched.

"Just follow my lead, okay?"

Marinette nodded, unable to hide a slight smile at the irony. Usually, it was him that followed her lead. He just didn't know it.

Adrien offered her an encouraging smile, then eased the classroom door aside. Miss Bustier was seated at her desk, her eyes on them and her hands hovering over the keys on her laptop. Their classmates looked up from their tablets, their eyes flicking between Marinette and Adrien.

Adrien entered first. "Sorry we're late, Miss Bustier." He held the door open and snuck Marinette a supportive wink that made her cheeks burn.

This time, Marinette's stumble was unintentional as she stepped inside, feeling all eyes on her. She didn't know what was worse: the way Chloe and Lila glared daggers at her or the bug-eyed look on Alya's face.

Behind her, Adrien clicked the door shut, and she cleared her throat. "Uhh. Y-Yeah!" Her face scrunched in apology. "Sorry, Miss Bustier"—she itched her cheek—"for interrupting the lesson."

Miss Bustier nodded, showing a gracious smile. "Please take your seats and pull out your tablets. We're starting a pop quiz in a couple of minutes."

Adrien and Marinette nodded in sync, and he gracefully claimed his seat.

Her?

She tripped on the first step, greeted the second with her shin, and crawled the rest of the way. Once she was in her seat, her panic-struck eyes shot to Miss Bustier, only to be met by a knowing smile.

A sigh of relief slipped from Marinette's lips as she placed her backpack on her desk.

That relief was short-lived.

Alya leaned into her personal bubble, rocking a smirk. "Girl," she whispered, her eyes narrow with amusement. "Start. Talking."

Marinette played dumb. "About what?" she whispered back, hunched behind her backpack to avoid Miss Bustier's stare.

Alya rolled her eyes. "Seriously? You and Adrien just showed up to class together. Late. With super messy hair." She raised a brow. "There's gotta be a story there!"

"There's no story, Alya," she said through a sigh.

"Oh, come on." Alya eyed her from behind her tablet, her smirk growing. "Did you two finally make out in the utility closet?"

"ALYA!" Marinette screeched, somehow knocking her bag over the back of her desk. It brushed Adrien's back as it descended toward the wooden floor, meeting it with a dull thud.

"Marinette," said Miss Bustier, looking up from her laptop to send her a stern look, "if you arrive late, I expect you to do it discreetly."

She stooped her head low. "Sorry, Miss Bustier!"

Adrien turned in his chair - his tablet already laid out on his desk - and with a sympathetic smile, he heaved her bag off the floor. She nodded her thanks as he placed it on the desk. Only when he turned back to his tablet did she shoot Alya a glare.

"We both just happened to be late," she quietly growled, "and I kinda forgot to brush my hair, so Adrien messed his up to make me feel better. And to save us interrupting class twice, we decided to show up together." The slightest smirk Alya still showed only had her eyes rolling. "Need I remind you he's dating Kagami?"

That swept the smugness from her face. "All riiiight, I believe you." She watched, her eyes squinting in thought, as Marinette pulled her tablet from her backpack. "But hey, speaking of dating… How're things going with Luka?" Of course, her teasing smile returned; it never did seem to be gone for long. "Maybe it's him you're smooching in a closet, hmm?"

Thoughts of last night swarmed to the forefront of Marinette's mind, and her stomach churned at the reminder of Luka. "I… No! We're just hanging out." She set her backpack on the floor and turned back to her tablet, bringing up their pop quiz with a shaky finger.

Alya turned to her own tablet. "So, does that mean you guys haven't kissed yet?"

Marinette's cheeks flushed pink and she shook her head excessively. "Don't you think I'd tell you if we had?"

Alya lightly elbowed Marinette's side. "When it comes to you, girl, I never know what to think."

Briefly, she chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Okay. Fair point, but trust me, Alya, if I ever get a boyfriend, you'll be the first to know."

---

Usually, sitting behind Adrien was a blessing.

Today, it was a curse.

No matter how hard she tried, Marinette's eyes kept drifting to the boy ahead of her. She studied the curve of his broad shoulders, recalling all the times she'd seen them wrapped in leather. She strained her ears each time he spoke and now it was impossible to unhear her partner. And during last period, when Alya struck up a conversation with him, she caught her eyes travelling the defined arc of his jaw.

Now that she knew he was Chat Noir, she just couldn't unsee it.

"So, Adrien," Alya was saying, leaning over her desk. "You gonna come play Ultimate Mecha Strike III tomorrow?" She glanced between the two boys ahead. "I might also pull out Just Dance if I'm feeling a little bit groovy," she added, shimmying in her seat.

"Yeah, Alya!" Adrien said, his face alight. "I'll definitely be there this time!"

Marinette bolted upright in her seat, horror flashing across her face.

"Good to hear," Alya said beside her.

"Yeah! Would you believe my father said yes for a change?" Adrien tapped his lips, his eyes wandering up to the ceiling. "He's been in a pretty good mood lately… I think." He looked back at Alya, smiling. "Kagami's excited too. And maybe a bit nervous. She hasn't really hung out with more than a couple of friends at a time."

A splash of pity washed over Marinette. It'd been a while since her last orange juice outing with Kagami and she knew those meet-ups meant a lot to her. For a moment, she considered arranging another one.

That thought was quickly crushed by the glaring reminder that sat before her - otherwise known as Adrien Agreste.

Chat Noir.

Kagami's boyfriend.

She pulled her arms across her torso, her eyes sinking to the dented surface of her desk. She was almost certain a catch up with Kagami would end tragically. Heck, it would probably start tragically too—at least while her knowledge of Chat's identity was still fresh.

Adrien and Kagami's relationship had been – still was – extremely hard to swallow. Knowing Kagami's boyfriend was also Chat Noir somehow seemed to make things more complicated. And now that she thought about it, it was no wonder Chat had flirted with Ryuko last week, during their brief fight with Loveater.

Marinette had a feeling she'd continue to be struck by realisations like this for at least a few weeks. Understandable, considering she's been unknowingly crushing on her superhero partner this whole time. She barely bit back a groan at that lovely reminder. It sounded like the punchline of a very bad joke. Or maybe she was the punchline?

"I'm excited for Kagami to be a bigger part of our friend group," Alya was saying, a teasing lilt in her voice as she continued. "Especially now that you two are an item." She elbowed Marinette, prompting a wince. "Isn't that right, girl?"

Rubbing her aching side, Marinette grinned a little too widely at the boys seated below her. At any other time, the red that crept across Adrien's cheeks would've been adorable. Now, it twisted her heart.

"I – Uhh. Yeah." She hoped her smile seemed genuine, at least to Adrien. "I can – I mean, I can't wait!"

[thestuckylibrary]

Mod’s Reads: March 2018

Mod Iamnmbr3

But We Can Try by hetrez (complete | 10,567 | G )

Bucky said, "These are love letters, Rogers. You've been drawing me love letters.”

teach your man to fish by silentwalrus (complete | 12,835 | T ) 

Bucky doesn’t deign to stay in Stark Tower for much longer than it takes to completely clean out the kitchens’ fish supply. After slurping down the last oyster and sneering in disgust at the contents of the walk-in freezer, Bucky turns to Steve, pelt over his shoulder, and says, “Where do you live?”

Lonely Dragons by Taste_is_Sweet (complete | 4,813 | T )

Bucky was sitting in the corner where the railing met the building, cross-legged and hunched and of course in the ridiculous moose hoodie plus a quilt around his shoulders. It was the quilt Tony had ordered with vintage Howling Commandos and SSR symbols all over it—score—but the overall effect of Bucky sitting alone and all bundled up like that was just tragic. And adorable. But mostly tragic.

"You look incredibly tragic out here all by yourself like this. Just saying." Tony decided he wasn't going to have to holler for help or call one of his suits, so he fully committed to stepping out onto the balcony. It was, as he'd surmised, fucking cold. Maybe less so if one was wrapped in an awesome quilt and a ridiculous moose hoodie, but still. Tony tightly folded his arms, wishing he'd had the foresight to grab a hoodie himself—or a quilt—instead of just coming out here in his Sisters of Mercy tee-shirt. "Really, you're like, a lost kitten. A lost kitten with antlers. You do know we can afford light and heat and stuff, right?"

Steve, Bucky, and the Tinhat Collective by mypedia (complete | 7,015 | G )

The internet and the Avengers fandom react to the events of Civil War.

***

avengers-daily:

How do they get 200% more attractive when they're covered in dirt

#avengers

2554 notes

the coming of our golden age by buckyjerkbarnes (complete | 2,761 | T )

Bucky’s heart came to a stuttering halt in his chest: Steve, almost obscured if Bucky wasn't so used to finding him in places he wasn't supposed to be, was boot to boot with Thanos. He gripped the golden gauntlet in both his hands, despite one of the purple fucker’s arms being the size of his torso.

The mad titan looked as though his day had just been made.

[Or the one where everything works out and no one dies because I'm stuck in the denial stage. Speaking this into existence!]

A Precarious, Fragile Thing by Taste_is_Sweet for tigriswolf (complete | 6,961 | T )

"I didn't know he did that," Tony said. He knew Bucky liked tucking himself so far under Steve's arm that it was like he was trying to climb into his armpit. But he'd always stayed upright, just kind of plastering himself against Steve's side. This blanket thing was new.

"Seventy years of skin hunger," Steve said. His voice was just as soft, but for a moment his eyes flickered hot with anger, bright as the candy-colored screen. "He was always tactile. Now, when things get…well, sometimes it helps. The contact."

And it looked…nice, the two of them together like that: Comfortable. Familiar. Safe. Tony knew what a precarious, fragile thing it was, to feel safe in the middle of the night.

despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained) by praximeter (Zimario) (WIP | 57,623 | M )

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

Mod Blue

Flush by I_Dont_KnowWhatImDoing (oneshot | 4,923 | E)

Bucky would really like for his life to just be simple, but all evidence suggests that the universe is actively conspiring against this goal. This is further reinforced when Steve Rogers is dragged into his suite, almost completely unable to communicate under the influence of some crazy Wakandan flower, and randy as all hell.

Minimal Property Damage by Nejinee (oneshot | 6,704 | E)

Everyone assumes Bucky's super soldier body will process the gas that's gone and driven others mad with sexual hysteria. Everyone assumes the evil scientists messed up and Bucky's okay. Everyone assumes wrong because no one ever thinks about Steven Grant Rogers.

-

A sex pollen PWP.

Bowties and Bugs by Tsuki_Amano (complete | 41,014 | not rated)

In his line of work, Steve thinks he's seen everything. After all, it's hard to surprise a spy. So when he gets a call from one very disgruntled James Barnes who's handcuffed to a tombstone, it's safe to say they've set a precedent.

Or the one where Steve and Bucky are both spies working for SHIELD and get called in for a rescue mission. Which should be fine because Steve most definitely does not have an earth-shattering crush on Bucky Barnes and his perfect hair. Except he does. And they're playing the role of happily married husbands.

'til you come to me by radialarch (oneshot | 4,978 | T)

"I'll do it," Steve says. "I'll marry Bucky."

(It's because of the Russians.)

sometimes everything is touch and go by santanico (oneshot | 14,180 | E)

Bucky and Steve's mission is to infiltrate a suburban neighborhood as a married couple. In theory, it should be difficult, but it also kind of isn't.

Bucky hesitates. “It’s undercover. We’ve done undercover before.” He shrugs.

Steve laughs again. “This isn’t exactly the same as infiltration under the guise of being regular civilians. What is it again – what did Fury’s email say?” Steve pauses, tapping his chin with his index finger. “ ‘Mr. and Mr. Rogers are a couple who have recently moved into a neighborhood in northern Colorado. You are to maintain an image of high-standing and societal grace.’ That’s not exactly your scene, is it, Buck? Especially the part about being Mr. Rogers.”

Everything (that I couldn't have) by obsessivereader (oneshot | 7,252 | T)

“You don’t have to do this, Steve.” Bucky pushes away the letter from the Russian government demanding that one Dmitri Batischev, alias the Winter Soldier, be surrendered to them to stand trial for his crimes.

Steve hesitates in the doorway. Bucky must’ve heard the tail end of his conversation with Pepper. Now he looks tired, and resigned, and so done and Steve fucking hates that Bucky keeps getting dealt shit hand after shit hand. “I want to.” He hopes Bucky can hear the conviction in his voice. “I’m not losing you again.”

“But getting married? You think that’s gonna work?”

Satellite (I'm Part Of You) by Brenda (oneshot | 4,190 | E)

"I'm okay, Steve." Bucky raised his hand to cup Steve's jaw, his thumb slowly stroking over stubble.

Steve shuddered once, all over, then brought his own hand up to cover Bucky's. Felt the calluses and nicks, the steady pulse beating at his wrist. "I thought I was gonna lose you again."

Bucky gave him a small, fond smile. "I thought I was gonna lose you."

The Arsonist's Choir by Brenda (complete | 11,911 | E)

"It's Bucky," Steve added, helplessly. The buyer was now sitting at Mikhailov's table, but the mission seemed unimportant. "He's been arrested. In Texas. And, uh, apparently, we're married."

"Congratulations," Natasha replied, with a small grin. "Are you registered anywhere?"

yoga mesh by wearing_tearing (oneshot | 2,293 | M)

“You could just be honest with him,” Nat suggests. Beside her, Sam nods.

Bucky levels them both with a flat look. “This past weekend I asked if he wanted to go out on a date and Steve said not to be funny because, and I quote, ‘Where would we even find dates this late?’”

it's actually like you're photoshopped by biblionerd07 (oneshot | 11,870 | G)

Steve's relationship with Bucky violates a workplace policy. So, backed into a corner by his well-meaning but meddlesome coworkers, he does what anyone would do. He makes up a fake boyfriend. He just hopes it doesn't cause problems with his real boyfriend.

M is for Murder by rohkeutta (oneshot | 4,196 | M)

I’m pretty low on funds and need to make ends meet this month, Barnes types slowly into a new post three days later. I’m taking commissions for hits in the New York City area.

Will Not Kill: Captain America or other Avengers. Will partially refund payment if target turns out to be HYDRA. Will not go to Jersey. No dismemberment or killing children. Message for negotiations and payment details.

build it bigger than the sun by defcontwo (oneshot | 10,083 | T)

“Yeah, because nothing says heteronormative like living in Dupont Circle for two years and wearing skin-tight shirts to hit on hot airmen when you go running in the morning.”

“Look, I know you’re being sarcastic but I really don’t get how no one picked up on that.”

Steve and Bucky try to work out their relationship. The Avengers keep getting in the way.

The Spotless by BetteNoire (WeAreWolves) (oneshot, restricted | 5,640 | T) (reread)

Steve, the face on the screen said, dropping its gaze. I wanted to say first of all, thank you for everything you've done for me. I've had a lot of time to think here in Wakanda, and... A sigh, seventy years of weariness in one breath.

Then he looks up again. I wasn't worth it.

Bucky chooses to fix himself. And Steve realises he's nearly lost Bucky again, because he's been too busy being Captain America to be a friend.

Part 1 of Spotless

From You Have I Been Absent In The Spring by BetteNoire (WeAreWolves) (oneshot, restricted | 9,411 | E) (reread)

Natasha bangs on his door that evening. “Steve, nobody's seen or heard from you in three days. I'm invading the sadness palace. I have ice cream.” Then: “Five seconds until I pick the lock.” 

Part 2 of Spotless

Lucky Seven by BetteNoire (WeAreWolves) (complete, restricted | 94,364 | E) (reread)

Captain America trashes his motorcycle a lot. Tony says he'll fix it, then never gets around to it and just buys him a new one. Steve, the Depression-era kid, can't stand the waste and goes looking for somewhere near him in Brooklyn where he can get his bike fixed. That's how he finds Red Star Bike Repair, and the hot Russian-immigrant bike racer who runs it: all long hair and muscles and tattoos. And for the first time since he woke from the ice, Steve feels a connection to someone; a comfort in the other man's silences and his space, an attraction in his sheer skill at racing. But James Barnes isn't exactly who he seems...

Happy Accidents by BetteNoire (WeAreWolves) (complete, restricted | 29,777 | E) (reread)

Bucky's still in cryo. Steve is in New York, angry and unsettled. And then Trump takes a photo in front of a Captain America mural like Steve has ever supported anything he says or does. So Steve enlists Pepper to throw a costume gala for LGBTQIA causes, and to celebrate his coming out.

It's a terrible idea, especially when a bunch of people come dressed as Bucky.

But then Steve meets a tall dark stranger...

These American Dreams (ain’t no white picket fences left for me) by kariye (oneshot | 50,608 | E)

In which Bucky has a house, a dog, an herb garden, and a serious case of insomnia. Welcome to Havensport, Indiana (population 8,294), where Tom’s Neighborhood Grocer stays open all night, little old ladies call the car shop to get their refrigerators repaired, and the heat of summer days and the length of summer nights can make you think that this perfect world will last forever.

Highest Bidder by Brenda (oneshot | 2,774 | M)

"Bidding will start at $5,000, ladies and gentlemen. $5,000 for an evening spent in the charming company of one of the most eligible bachelors in all of New York. The winning bidder will be chauffeured to Mr. Barnes' private yacht, where you'll both share a meal exquisitely prepared by his own personal chef, and a sunset cruise around the harbor. Who says romance is dead." The MC smiled, looking like nothing so much as a very hungry shark.

"$50,000!" Steve called, shocking everyone in the room – and himself – into silence.

The MC blinked. His perfect, plastic smile melted right off his face. "Uh...could you...I'm sorry, what was that?"

Part 1 of Going Once, Going Twice, Sold...

Contract Negotiations by Brenda (oneshot | 4,623 | E)

“If I don't get my mouth on you in the next twenty seconds..." Steve shuddered and paused as he looked up at Bucky like an acolyte seeking favor. "I need...can I? Please?"

"God yes, anything you want," Bucky breathed, and lifted his hips so Steve could tug his slacks and boxers down to his ankles. He was on board with anything – anything at all – as long as Steve didn't stop.

Part 2 of Going Once, Going Twice, Sold...

Booty Call by Brenda (oneshot | 6,703 | E)

Bucky leaned in, rubbed a light, lingering kiss to Steve's parted lips. "Why don't you tell me what you need," he whispered, his breath mingling with Steve's. "Tell me what you need from me."

"I just..." Steve's absurdly long lashes fluttered. He blinked, his eyes already glazing over with desire and want and trust, and it was the trust that shot through Bucky like a bullet. "I just don't want to think for awhile. I just...I want you to..." He paused, swallowed, adam's apple bobbing. "I need you to take me out of my own head for a couple of hours. Can you do that?"

Part 3 of Going Once, Going Twice, Sold...

Public Offering by Brenda (oneshot | 6,960 | E)

"Missed you so much...so fucking much," Steve moaned, then dove back in, his tongue curling, slick and heated, against Bucky's own.

Bucky just deepened the kiss, biting and sharp, slid his tongue alongside Steve's until all he could feel, all he knew, was Steve and only Steve. His touch, his scent, the solid feel of his body, the greedy moans as kiss slid into kiss. Nothing existed outside of this bubble of heat and desire.

"On your knees," he ordered, in the hushed space between them. "I want you to show everyone how sweet you look when you're choking on my cock."

Part 4 of Going Once, Going Twice, Sold...

Closing the Deal by Brenda (oneshot | 10,212 | E)  

Bucky clicked the vibrator off with a smile that morphed into an outright grin at Steve's frustrated growl. "I am gonna have so much fun tonight."

"You're a dick," Steve huffed, but nuzzled Bucky's nape, breathing him in – the hint of woodsy, expensive cologne, the clean smell of soap, and under it, Bucky's own natural scent. Everything about him addictive, and Steve was – as always – completely at his mercy.

"Oh, don't worry, me and my dick have some definite plans for you later," Bucky said, and laced his fingers with Steve's, their palms sliding together perfectly.

Part 5 of Going Once, Going Twice, Sold...

Honeypot by cleo4u2, xantissa (complete | 133,204 | E)

Preconditions: One Sasha Marozow - internationally renowned assassin for hire, known as the Winter Soldier, ex-Hydra operative freelancing for the last five years; One Steve Rogers, Captain America - recently defrosted national hero and Avenger; One assassination contract; One set-up known in the intelligence community as the “honeytrap”.

Expected Result: One Winter Soldier in custody, the name of his employer attained.

Actual result: Definitely not as expected.

Part 1 of Honeypot

Give Up the Ghost by cleo4u2, xantissa (oneshot | 19,518 | E)

They were happy together and the year had been good for them. They thought nothing could tear them apart. They were wrong.

Part 2 of Honeypot

The Chosen Verb: Fuck by cleo4u2, xantissa (oneshot | 14,295 | E)

“God,' he said, 'I have to have you.' 'Take me. Own me. Use me. Pick a verb. Just please.' 'Fuck you. I'm going to fuck you. That's my verb.” ― C.D. Reiss, Resist

OR

Steve needs Bucky, needs him to fuck him, to break him, to own him. What happens after Steve’s doctors clear him for more strenuous activity.

Part 3 of Honeypot

Cracked Mirror by cleo4u2, xantissa (complete | 34,497 | E)

The Avengers stumble upon an infinity gem while clearing out a smuggler’s lair. The result? Bucky Barnes is back from 1940, reminding both Steve and Sasha how much he’s changed.

Part 4 of Honeypot

Demonique by BetteNoire (WeAreWolves) (complete | 38,959 | E)

“Oh come on, Steve. You look at me like you want to put me on a pedestal and worship me. You look at Barnes like you want to tear his clothes off with your teeth. Tell me why you two aren’t...?” Peggy smirks at him, because of course this amuses her greatly.

Steve fidgets, trying not to blush. “Peggy, I can’t—“

Peggy steps closer. “Steve. Is this an American peculiarity? Because in the British army, as long as you’re discreet, that sort of thing between two men is fine. I mean, some of our greatest war heroes, and so on.”

“It’s not... that...” Steve cringes.

It’s Bucky’s tentacles.

And how badly he wants them inside him.

Into Infinity by rooonil_waazlib (complete | 6,888 | T)

Clint hadn’t said that Mr Barnes was such a goddamn DILF, tall and lean and dark-haired, skin a tiny bit tanned like he’d spent a day at Coney Island. Not even five years older than Steve. His face could be my throne, Steve thinks, madly, nearly choking himself on the thought.

Then the guy grins. Steve’s fucked. “You must be Steve.”

Part 1 of And Beyond

Sick Day by rooonil_waazlib (oneshot | 6,026 | E)

There, in the big leather recliner that looks out over the water, Adrienne is curled up in Bucky’s lap, swaddled in blankets, both asleep. Steve wants to draw them, wants to capture the ease with which they fit together, the gentleness with which Bucky holds his daughter.

Part 3 of And Beyond

The Manny by LilyInTheSnow (WIP | 54,052 | M)

Steve needs a nanny for his twins. Bucky needs a job and secretly adores kids. Natasha thinks they both need a husband. Or to at least get laid. Either way, it works. Or would if they'd get their shit together.

The thing that drives the wolves away by caughtinanocean (oneshot | 7,876 | T) (reread)

The thing about Bucky these days is that, while he might be a semi-mythical assassin, he's also vulnerable—the kind of vulnerable that makes total strangers want to drape a blanket over his shoulders and take him to safety. The problem is, of course, that Bucky is already safe.

The first time it happens, Bucky has no idea how to react. He and Steve are walking down the street, when a slight woman takes in Bucky’s terrified eyes, the dark circles so bad they almost look like bruises, and Steve’s protective hand resting on his lower back, guiding him down the busy sidewalk (but it must look possessive, to someone looking for a sign), and comes to the wrong conclusion.

You Will Meet a Stranger by spitandvinegar (oneshot | 3,061 | M) (reread)

When the mask falls off Steve recoils.

He'll never forgive himself.

Mod Julia

Kintsugi (Call It Love) by Anna_Heyward (oneshot | 28,653 | E)

Lt. James "Bucky" Barnes has had a long day. A cargo plane from Kabul, a 3 hour flight from Istanbul, and another 8-hour flight from Amsterdam, and he's finally made it to JFK. Just two more flights to go - one to Minneapolis, another to Fairbanks - and he'll be back at base. He can pack up his stuff, head back home to Brooklyn, and be a civilian again. He's got his discharge papers; all he has to do now is get through 12 more hours of flying and this long day will be over.

But the hot stranger he's seated next to on his flight has Bucky wishing that Minneapolis was a little farther away.

The Biggest Part of Me by Anna_Heyward (complete | 69,992 | E)

Newly divorced single dad Steve Rogers moves his kids from the suburbs to Brooklyn to start their new life together, and becomes captivated by the young man who works at the coffee shop downstairs from Steve’s apartment.

Bucky Barnes is 25 years old, working part-time in a coffee shop and still living with his mom. When a handsome single dad in a pinch offers Bucky a job as his nanny, Bucky takes him up on it.

It could be lethal (sleeping with a friend) by asleepygay (oneshot | 2,674 | T)

He’s in Steve’s room because it’s closer to the door in the apartment they share. And he’s starting to remember that they were very impatient last night.

Last night. Christ

-

drinks are had, sex is had, feelings are had

Lazy Sunday by Chiyume (oneshot | 2,231 | E)

“Watch it,” Bucky drawls. “Or you’re gonna end up in trouble.” He meets Steve’s eye, and Steve looks right back. The change in his gaze is minute – barely enough to notice unless you know exactly what to look for. Bucky, however, does know, and as Steve swallows tightly, Bucky feels his own lips widen in a smirk. “Oh,” he breathes. “So that’s how it is?”

In which Steve wakes up with a craving, and Bucky is all too happy to oblige.

Luck of the Irish Stroll by GoldBlooded (oneshot | 8,626 | E)

Every year Steve and Sam go on the Irish Stroll Bar Crawl, and ever since their first time on the Stroll four years ago, Steve and Sam cross paths with Bucky and Natasha.

Every year they drink and celebrate in a little group, and every year Steve’s world is rocked by the gorgeous, blue-eyed man that has captivated him since they first locked eyes fighting over a couple of pints of Guinness from the bartender.

Captain Cosplay by alby_mangroves, Ignisentis (oneshot | 9,184 | T)

James Barnes loves to cosplay as Captain America, and not just because he's damn good at it, either. No, it's the feeling he gets when he puts on the suit, the light in people's eyes when they see him, the thrill of getting the details just right. It also helped him feel connected to New York after he moved back there for work. Well, cosplay and his landlord,Clint. So when Bucky gets an invitation to his dream cosplay event, hosted by none other than Tony Stark and judged by the Avengers themselves, he knows he has to pull out all the stops and make a new Cap cosplay: the elusive Stealth Suit. Clint turns out to be surprisingly resourceful in that endeavor, and Bucky's more than pleased with how his cosplay turns out. As the day of the event dawns, he can only hope that Steve Rogers feels the same way.

A Vision of Ecstasy by a_splash_of_stucky (oneshot | 2,664 | E)

Sometimes, sex should just be had for the sake of exploration.

Smile by TheLocket (oneshot | 8,463 | M)

When an official Captain America press event runs over, the whole crew gets stuck in Cincinnati overnight. With only a few rooms left at the hotel, Bucky offers to bunk with Steve—how bad could it be? But he forgot how awful Steve can be as a roommate. He has no personal space. He never wears clothes. And, even worse, he smells really good.

Bucky is in for a rough night.

the blood is the life by obsessivereader (oneshot | 3,357 | M)

He can smell them when Bucky comes back to the apartment late at night. Different men, their colognes wafting off him as he lets himself in and walks past the living room where Steve’s always waiting. It may not be every night, but it’s at least two, or sometimes even three, times a week.

Tonight is no different. Bucky keeps his head down as he walks past. He goes straight into his room and closes the door behind him with a finality that means Bucky won’t be emerging till morning. The sound of the shower starts up not two minutes later.

Steve sits alone in the living room, the scent of cologne hanging in the air like an interloper in the apartment. He can’t help thinking Why not me.

weary of war by endofadream (oneshot | 3,190 | E)

Bucky’s fingers slip.

This time, he manages to scream the name: “Steve!”

You Could Be Mine by lambchop33 (complete | 33,818 | E)

Bucky Barnes never sees it coming when his buddy, Sam Wilson brings his buddy, Captain America, to visit him while he's recuperating in a hospital after a car accident.

He never sees it coming when he finds out sexy, courageous, self-sacrificing Steve Rogers is also... lonely.

One more thing he doesn't see coming? That he could possibly be the one destined to become the friend, the lover that Steve has been searching for ever since he came out of the ice.

Or, the smutty Valentine's season AU no one asked for...

[xtruss]

Goodbye Ted Dexter, Free Spirit, Cricket Thinker, Renaissance Man

The England and Sussex captain had aura, flair, majestic batting, and impossible glamour - and that was just on the field

— Mark Nicholas | 27 August, 2021

Ted Dexter batting in a ring of close-in fielders in Sydney, January 1963 Getty Images

I don't know when the Ted Dexter affectation started but I can guess. The last thing my father did with me before he died so young was to take me to see the 1968 Gillette Cup final at Lord's. This was during Ted's short comeback and when the great man strode to the wicket, I leapt about in excitement, cheering his name for all I was worth. He didn't get many but no matter, I had seen him live. That evening Dad bowled to me in the garden as I imitated every Dexter mannerism and stroke I had seen just a few hours before.

"There is about Dexter, when he chooses to face fast bowling with determination, a sort of air of command that lifts him above ordinary players. He seems to find time to play the fastest bowling and still retain dignity, something near majesty, as he does it." — John Arlott

I fell for the aura, and for the flair in those back-foot assaults on fast bowlers. Not for a minute do I think I saw the 70 in 75 balls against Wes Hall and Charlie Griffith at Lord's in 1963 but I feel as if I did - the power, the poise, the sheer gall of it. Nothing, not even the Beatles, could drag me from the television screen when he walked to the wicket, seemingly changing the picture from black-and-white to glorious technicolor as he took guard. Frankly, much of the Test cricket of the time was pretty dull but there was a frisson, an expectation, with Ted, just as there is when Ben Stokes is on his way today. It was all too brief, he had retired for good before I started proper school.

The West Indians of the day - Conrad Hunte, Garry Sobers, Wes Hall - thought that innings the best played against them by anybody, though Dexter himself would modestly say it was just one of those days where everything came together and the bat swung freely in just about the right arc. He was well miffed to be given out lbw, however, insisting later that the DRS would have saved him. Who knows how many careers might have been changed by the sliding doors of the DRS.

The word majesty sits well with Dexter's batting, primarily because of the way in which he attacked through the off side off his back foot. This is a stroke so difficult to master that more prosaic batters choose to ignore it. It is no great surprise that Dexter thought Gordon Greenidge and Martin Crowe the two most technically correct right-hand players that he saw, citing their ability to stay sideways-on and to play the ball alongside their body as the prime reason for the accolade.

He was a huge fan of Joe Root and became near apoplectic during the England captain's relatively lean spell a while ago, when he became square-on to the bowler and was playing in front of his body. This niggled so much that he wrote to Root without mincing his words. Though at first put out, Root soon saw the kindness in a man of Dexter's age and knowledge who bothered to write, and therefore returned an email of thanks with the observation that he took the point. Who knows to what degree? It is enough to say that this year Root has batted about as well as any man could have done, and no one has enjoyed each of these innings in Sri Lanka, India, and now at home as much as Dexter.

One final appeal: Dexter (fourth from left) watches as umpire Charlie Elliot gives John Inverarity out off Derek Underwood, The Oval, 1968 Getty Images

For the best part of a year now, Ted has been banging on about Dawid Malan: simply couldn't understand why England didn't pick him to bat at three. He cited the hundred in Perth in 2017 and this year's big scores for Yorkshire before predicting near-certain success with the method that brought those runs. It is sad, indeed, that he didn't live to see the fulfillment of his prophecy in Malan's fine innings yesterday. He liked the look of James Vince and Zak Crawley too, cricketers who stand tall and play with freedom. He got a lot right, this man of Radley, Cambridge, Sussex and England.

Tall himself, strong, handsome and impossibly glamorous, Edward Ralph Dexter caught everyone's eye. With the golden Susan Longfield on his arm, they cut quite a dash and cared little for the sniping that came from those less blessed. The enigma in him - and how! - was often confused with indifference, and though cricket has remained his other great love, it was never the be-all and end-all for him - a fact that made his appearances all the more cherished and his company all the more engaging. It is remarkable to think that he first retired as far back as 1965, before returning briefly in 1968 to make a double-hundred at Hastings against Kent and be immediately recalled to the England team for the Ashes. In the brilliant photograph (above) of the moment when Derek Underwood claims the final wicket at The Oval, Ted is caught spinning to appeal for lbw with a face that smacks of a lifelong instinct for competition and achievement.

"Ted was a man of moods, often caught up in theories, keen when the action was hot, seemingly uninterested when the game was dull... a big-time player, one who responded to atmosphere, liked action and enjoyed the chase and gamble. Maybe this was the reason he was drawn to horse racing so that a dull day stalking the covers might be enlivened for him by thoughts of how his money was faring on the 3:15 at Ascot or Goodwood." — John Snow

Richie Benaud and Dexter in Sydney during the 1963-64 Ashes Frank Albert Charles Burke / Fairfax Media/Getty Images

And Snow would know for he was not the type to rise above those grey days of county cricket when the stakes were so low. Snow and Dexter, my first heroes, along with Jimmy Greaves and George Best, Muhammad Ali, the Beatles and the Stones - all of them important figures at 29 Queensdale Road, where the young Nicholas grew up with vinyl records and cared-for willow, narrow-grained and well-oiled for the garden Test matches that England forever won.

Much of the 1960s were about rebellion, revolution even, in response to the age of austerity. After the long and mainly drab post-war years, the young simply broke free and changed pretty much anything they could get their hands on. Music and fashion led the way, leaving sport's establishment to stutter in their wake. Only a few precious players could transcend the inertia, using both their talent and expression to delight the crowds and influence the young. Cricket was my thing, Dexter and Snow were the wind beneath my wings.

In Snow there truly was rebellion, against authority and the system it supported. This was not so in Dexter's case, though his free spirit and somewhat cavalier approach to responsibility gave the impression of one determined to ruffle feathers. From the outset he adored sport, worked harder than some might think at his books, and embraced diversions with the enthusiasm of a man who had more to do than could ever be done.

In many ways Ted was a contradiction: at once a conformist, as shaped by the early years of his life at home and school, and a modernist, whose lateral thinking did much to reform the structure of English cricket during his time as chairman of selectors. Richie Benaud observed that Ted's imagination and drive "will be of great benefit to English cricket in years to come. Equally, I'm in no doubt that others will take the credit for it." The rebellion in Ted was hardly radicalised but he loved to challenge conservative thinking, to take risks and to invest in his life as an adventure. Both on and off the field, this made for a terrific watch.

The best of Ted: Dexter on his way to 70 against Wes Hall and Charlie Griffith at Lord's, June 1963 PA Photos

He thought the Hundred a good wheeze and admitted he would rather like to have played it himself. He was, of course, the original thinker about one-day cricket, supporting its conception as early as the late 1950s and then leading Sussex to the first two 60-over titles at Lord's in the Gillette Cup. He paid close attention to the tactics and convinced his men that following them to the letter would do the trick. Which it did. He pushed for four-day county matches 27 years before they were incorporated and he founded the idea of central contracts for England players long before other teams caught the bug.

He was proud of his part in the development of the spirit of cricket, applying golf's moral high ground to the game that made his name. Through his own PR agency, he became a pioneer in cricket's digital-technology revolution by inventing the system of Test match rankings that first announced itself under the banner of Deloitte and is now the ICC international rankings.

On a Zoom call a couple of months back, with tongue firmly in cheek, he said, "Having a rather high opinion of myself, I can safely say that had the rankings been in place sometime around the mid part of the 1963 summer, I would have been the No. 1-rated batsman in the world." We had special guests on these calls - Mike Atherton, Michael Vaughan, Ed Smith, Robin Marlar, Sir Tim Rice and more - all keen to share a drink, chew the cud and have a laugh with the game's most original and forward-thinking mind.

Champagne days: (from left) Fred Trueman, Dexter, David Sheppard and Colin Cowdrey celebrate after winning the Melbourne Test, January 1963 PA Photos/Getty Images

We cannot jump past golf without mentioning the game at the Australian Golf Club in Sydney when Ted partnered Norman Von Nida against Jack Nicklaus and Gary Player. So enamoured of Ted's golf were they that Nicklaus suggested Ted follow him back to the USA for a crack at the tour. Player has long said that Ted was the best amateur ball-striker he ever saw and Von Nida just thanked him for securing the one-up triumph that day. Eighteen months ago Player told me that in their one head to head with each other, Ted beat him up the last at Sunningdale, receiving only four shots. "Little so-and-so," said Ted, "we played level!" They were due for a game last summer but Covid stood firmly between them. The last time I played with Ted, two summers ago now, he beat his age, shooting 83 round the Old Course at Sunningdale without breaking a sweat.

This was a man of Jaguar cars, Norton motorbikes, greyhounds, race horses and an Aztec light airplane that, in 1970, he piloted to Australia with his young family beside him, to cover the Ashes as a journalist. They flew 12,000 miles and made about two dozen stops at British military bases along the way.

Ted married the very beautiful Susan soon after returning from Australia and New Zealand in the spring of 1959. How she is hurting today. So too Genevieve, Tom and the grandchildren.

There was an eccentricity in him that was occasionally misunderstood but otherwise immensely appealing and it is with that in mind, that I turn to the man himself for the final word. It comes from his blog, which is a splendid read and will remain a platform for the family to share their thoughts about this husband, father and grandfather who brought us so much joy.

Dexter and Frank Worrell at a BBC interview with Peter West, August 1963 Harry Todd / Fox Photos/Getty Images

It was in my last term at Radley College when I had a hard game of rackets in the morning, scored 3 tries with two conversions for the 1st XV in the afternoon, was heard listening to operatic voices in the early evening, before repairing to the Grand Piano in the Mansion and knocking off a couple of Chopin preludes. "Quite the Renaissance man it seems" said my Social Tutor and I admit I liked the sound of it, if not quite knowing what it meant.

The Encyclopaedia Brittanica description of Renaissance man (or polymath) is as follows: one who seeks to develop skills in all areas of knowledge, in physical development and social accomplishment and in the arts. A point is made that you do not need to excel at any one activity. It is enough to tackle it seriously and see how far you get. I like the physical development bit obviously and I feel the social accomplishment bit is covered by my willingness to take on responsibilities all my life. Perhaps the arts bit is a bit shaky but a love for music, and particularly opera, and love of language - being fairly fluent in French, Italian, rudimentary German and Spanish - may be some modest qualifications."

Some different cat, huh. What a man. What a cricketer. Goodbye Ted, and thank you.

[majimfanfics]

The Secret Love Song [MAJIM]

Chapter 13

"I'm so lucky to have Jim as a friend and partner in comedy crime."

- Mayim Bialik

"I'll see you all tomorrow," Jim waves as he makes his way out of the theater.

The Normal Heart was already on its second week and the following Tuesday will be Big Bang's final taping for the season. Though playing his role as Dr. Sheldon Cooper is the reason why he's being recognized for his acting skills, he's still looking forward to finally staying in New York while working on the play. Flying back and forth, cross country, was taking its toll on him. He's just happy that Todd has always been there when he's too tired to drive, but even his partner couldn't be there all the time. It's not that he minds getting a driver or car service, but he can't help but miss the familiarity.

Walking out the Golden Theater, he was quickly ushered to the fans, waiting to have their playbill's signed. After signing about twenty of them, the security staff led him to where his car was parked. He still gets surprised that the word 'popular' is now something that can be used to describe him. He needs the assistance of a couple of security staff to push his way out of the crowd that was building up, with people who wants a signature from the rest of the actors starring in the controversial and heartbreaking play.

"Good night?" Todd asks as soon as he gets in the car.

"Yes. How was your meeting?" he smiles at his partner while working on fastening his seat belt.

"We closed the deal for that new hotel in Jersey. We start working on it next month." Todd started their way to their apartment in New York. It wasn't as big as their home in LA, but it was enough for them.

"Well that's great. Does that mean you'll be taking charge of that project?" Jim asks.

"Yes. Robert already have the details and I've endorsed the tasks that need attending to, back in LA, so I'll be flying with you next week after the finale taping." Todd announces, smiling at Jim, then turning his attention back to road in front of him.

"Good to know. I'm glad you found a way to make things work with your schedule. Thank you," Jim pats his hand that was on the gear-stick.

"Oh babe, you know I don't mind." Todd replies by squeezing his hand.

Luckily for them, there was light traffic that evening and they had a smooth drive from Broadway to their apartment. Jim had time to prepare a simple dinner for them, gathering what was left in their fridge. Between the play and Big Bang, grocery shopping isn't something that neither of them have had time to do. By eleven o 'clock, they were both in bed already. Todd, was checking his email while Jim was reading. His regular sleeping schedule has been disrupted because of having to keep up with time difference and all the getting home, late from the play.

Todd noticed an email from Mayim from the day before. Opening the message, it was the recipe of the muffins she made before for Jim. Their anniversary was coming up and Jim mentioned how much he loved her vegan muffins. He smiled and composed a quick thank you email. Jim saw his excited look and got curious.

"Why are you smiling?" he asks, scooting closer to Todd.

"Oh, just some funny email. I know I should be concerned that I'm getting junk mail again, but sometimes they crack me up," lies, Todd.

Jim didn't need much convincing, but probably because he was already sleepy so he just nodded. Pulling up the covers, Jim said his good night and gave his boyfriend a quick kiss. He turned on his side, his back facing Todd.

He observed Jim's figure for a while. Their height difference wasn't too much that it becomes a burden to kiss him while standing. In fact, he considers the difference, perfect. They can kiss each other without straining their necks too much. Setting down his laptop on the bedside table, he too, decided to call it a night.

Todd turned off the lights and snuggled close against Jim. His boyfriend turned on his back and he draped his arm around his torso. In the scarce light coming from the window, he admired Jim's facial features. His nose, his full lips, the lashes that were brushing against his cheek. Not very long after the light were completely off, he was also lulled into a dreamless sleep.

"So Mayim, what are your plans this summer?" asks Melissa, scooping up another cupcake from the platter. The group was on break from rehearsals.

"Well, mostly I'm just going camping with my husband and our kids. Then work on some papers. Still need to finish a lot of papers, you know..." she trails off, raising her eyebrows. Melissa just gave a knowing look and took a bite out of her cupcake.

She hasn't mentioned it to everyone in the cast, but she's considering, dropping her research. She's already talked to the school and will now be tutoring instead of handling a class. Big Bang Theory was supposed to be the extra work. But who knew that her character would become essential to one of the main ones; so much that she became a permanent cast member after only a handful of episodes. It's not like she could easily turn her back on the show. She's enjoying being in it and her current schedule will actually allow her more time with her kids, if she didn't also have her hands full of University and research work.

"...John did. I'm not even sure where that came from." Jim finishes with a laugh, emerging from the corner. Undoubtedly, he and Kaley went up to his dressing room while on break.

"But things are going great, right? I have seen a few articles online featuring the play." Kaley asks, while joining the group and picking up food from Johnny's paper plate.

"Oh everything's wonderful. Amazing ensemble, amazing audience every night. I mean just the story alone is enough to sell the show, but, god we get up there and everything just gets better and better." Jim sighs as he stares ahead, probably imagining the stage during show time on The Normal Heart.

"Oh yeah. We might drop by this summer. Not sure when but we'll try seeing the play." Johnny tells him.

"Well you know I'd appreciate that a lot. Thank you."

"Okay guys. 5 minutes to rehearsals." A staff reminded them.

They emerged from their seats, heading back to the main set for rehearsals. Mayim decided to fall back a little to chat with Jim. Ever since he started working on the play, he was rarely there for rehearsals. She's starting to miss the off-cam and off-set interaction she's gotten used to this past year.

"Hey Jim," she greets, making the man turn around. He smiles broadly at her and stopped walking so she could catch up.

"Doing well?" he asks as soon as they were side by side.

"Yeah. Still busy, as usual, but I'm fine. Looks like the play is going great," she comments.

"Oh yeah. Better than I imagined. Feels like heaven, in my opinion. But I mean, it's Broadway, so how can it not?" he says with such reverie that Mayim found admirable.

"Well I'm glad you're having a great time. Plus it's our last week for the season so you wouldn't have to worry about flying cross country every other day," she remembers.

"That's true. That's the only thing I didn't like about this whole setup."

The day went by, fast and after pre-taping a few scenes, their director called it a day. They finished around five which was just an hour before the worst time of the day to drive around Los Angeles. Just before Jim pulled out of the parking lot, he spotted Mayim getting inside Johnny's car. Just then, his phone rang. It was Todd. By the time that he got off the phone, Johnny’s car was no longer in the parking area. Too distracted to think about why he was still staring off into the almost empty lot, he went inside his car.

“So I already packed all the things we need, and we’re flying out tomorrow at eight-thirty.” Todd tells Jim, setting down his backpack on the couch.

Jim was re-reading his note cards for The Normal Heart while absentmindedly petting Otis. He was mouthing the words while looking up at the ceiling and barely heard what Todd just said.

“Jim? Are you done packing everything you need for the summer? We won’t be here till August.”

“What was that?” Jim asked, finally realizing that his partner was talking to him.

“Your things. Do you have everything that you need for the next few months?” Todd repeats.

“Oh yes. I went through everything when I got home. I’m all good to go,” he reassures the man.

“Good to know,” Todd responds. Jim was staring off into the air and Todd wondered if anything was bothering him.

He sat down next to Jim and looked at him. It took a few seconds before Jim turned his head to look back at him.

“What is it?” he asks Todd.

“You seem distracted. Are you okay?” he asks, putting one palm up Jim’s forehead to check he was getting sick. With all the flying back and forth and almost no sleep, he wouldn’t be surprised if Jim’s health is compromised.

“Yes. Just thinking about the play. Also I’m relearning the lines,” he says, bringing his attention back to his notecards.

Todd kept his eyes on him while he shuffled the cards in his hands, trying to rearrange them by order. Concluding that that was really the end of the conversation, he stood from the couch and told Jim that he’ll be going to bed. Giving the man a kiss, he went upstairs, with their two dogs trailing behind him.

Jim continued to deliver his lines silently for a few more minutes before deciding to lay down for a bit. His laptop was on the center table and he turned his head when he heard the notification of an incoming email. He got up and moved closer to the table to see who sent the email. It was Mayim.

Jim,

      You have a safe trip to New York. I know this is like your second week already but, break a leg! Tell Todd I said hi. ☺

- Mayim

He read the short message on his screen a few times before blinking rapidly. He felt odd reading the email. It was a plain and simple message, but he felt like there were butterflies in his stomach. Or bugs. He didn’t know which. It was a nice email, with a nice sentiment, from a friend and colleague. His thoughts were interrupted when Otis started clawing at his pants.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming to bed. No need to ruin these good pants,” he tells the dog as he closes his laptop. Shaking his head a little before heading upstairs, he composes himself and started his way to their bedroom.

“Are you sure about that? Isn’t there another way?” Michael asks his wife.

Mayim just finished telling her husband that she’ll be leaving the research team to focus on teaching and acting. Her research isn’t exactly close to completion and she wants to contribute more on the study but she knows she can’t juggle everything on her plate with two boys who needs full attention. She can’t always leave everything up to her husband. Michael can only do so much.

“Yes. It’s for the best. I’m just being practical. If I leave the study, I can help you more with the kids. I get enough from Big Bang to cover our expenses, so there shouldn’t be any problem.” Mayim was getting settled in bed while her husband was mulling her decision, over.

Michael knows her research means a lot to her. She spent years in getting her doctorate degree because of her passion for the Sciences and determination to make a significant contribution to mental health studies. And while her words were true, the idea of giving up her research is still a big sacrifice for her. But he knows once she has finalized her decision, there’s no point in arguing with her to go another way.

“So when are you going to tell them about this?” Michael asks.

“Next week. We’re having a meeting with the head of the department.”

She snuggles into him so he moves closer to her and wraps one arm around her. Nodding, he concurs and kisses the top of her head. Looking forward to seeing more of her wife this summer, he felt happier than he has been in months.

After a while, Michael fell asleep while Mayim was left awake beside him. The warmth of his husband was comforting but for some reason, sleep was elusive. From across the room, she noticed her laptop screen light up. She forgot to shut it down after dealing with some correspondence earlier. Careful to not wake her husband up, she got off the bed to deal with her laptop. When she got closer, she noticed that she actually got an email. It was from Jim.

Mayim,

       Thank you! Hope you have a nice summer break. I will tell Todd. Give my regards to your husband. And I hope he’s doing much better now.

- Jim

Smiling, she sent a quick reply:

I will. Especially since I will be spending more time with them this summer. Michael is doing great these days. You take care, too. Todd’s been telling me how tired you’ve been since the play started.

She sat in front of the computer for a few minutes, expecting a response, but she didn’t get one. “Hm… he probably went to bed already,” she whispers.

Another five minutes passed before she realized she was just staring at the screen. Deciding to finally get some sleep, she closed the laptop after shutting it down and went back in bed. Michael moved and for a second, she thought that she had woken him up. When a soft snore escaped his lips, she relaxed and settled herself under the sheets.

She watched her husband, or at least his deformed shape in the dark room, with just a little light coming through the windows.

Slowly, the sound of Michael sleeping lulled her into sleep. In her sleep she was transported to a white room, with a red seat, where a faceless guy visits her. This has been the second time, but in her dreams, she never gets a chance to see who the guy is.