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c-is-for-circinate · 3 years

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For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

#I don't actually know how to tag this #representation #maybe?#C needs help feeding the dinosaurs #because this is very much about being a fandom old #probably also #driveby meta attack #because that's where I keep my impromptu rambles #CR spoilers #technically I guess?#there's one line that references the finale #fandom history

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babymetaldoll · 3 years

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DIWK - Chapter one: "Yes, I'm a genius"

Word count: 10,5 K

Warnings: Cursing, but it's mostly a fluffy nerdy start to our story. Mentions of the L.D.S.K episode (Season 1, E06) and A real Rain (Season 1, E17).

Summary: Spencer meets the BAU new member, a young S.S.A. who happens to be just as nerdy as he is. (Y/N) is excited to join her dream job finally, but she is decided to create an imaginary barrier between her personal life and her job 'cos she doesn't want to make the same mistakes her father had done.

A/N: It's happening!!! I'm so excited!! I'm sorry it's gonna be long, so I hope you enjoy the ride 💕. Let me know what you think!

Series Masterlist

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Spencer's point of view

I remember everything that happened the day (Y/N) first arrived at the BAU. It was Monday, November 7th, 2005. Morgan had teased me for a whole week already, as soon as Hotch told us a new member of the team had been selected.

I first saw her when she had her last interview with Aaron and Gideon. My eyes were glued to her from the moment she stepped into the bullpen, and of course, Derek saw me.

- "What caught your eye, kid?"- he asked, walking to my desk. He sat on it and cut me one of his smirks, telling me he knew something was going on. I cleared my throat, trying to turn to my pile of paperwork, going through the papers, and narrowing my eyes, pretending to read.

- "What?"- I know I couldn't fool him, but at least I tried.

- "Do you know her?"

- "Who?"- Morgan looked at me in silence. He knew I knew what he was talking about- "The... no, Hotch is talking with someone..."

I was completely flustered.

- "That I can see, do you know her?"

- "No..."- I whispered and looked over again, this time staring at the scene inside the office, trying to figure out what they were talking about.

I could see (Y/N) smiling at Hotch, and he... smiled back, which still surprises me. Our Unit Chief never smiles in the office, and somehow, (Y/N) always manages to make him grin and express tenderness. I guess that's one of the things about her I love, the way she always manages- somehow, I still don't know how- to make everybody around her happy. Especially me. I had never been as happy as I've been since I met her.

- "Hey, Hotch!"- Morgan waited until she was into the elevator to call Aaron and start asking questions- Who is she?

- "That's Supervisory Special Agent (Y/F/N) (Y/S/N) (Y/L/N), and she is going to be part of the team, starting next week."

My heart stopped. (Y/N) was gonna work with me. I was never going to have another intelligible thought or idea if she was going to be around. Of that, I was sure.

Derek turned to me with a grimace of taunt as I tried my best to look away and hide my red blushed cheeks. Damn it. I hate it when he makes me feel like a kid. He did that then, and he still manages to do it now, even when I'm already thirty years old.

- "Did you hear that, pretty boy?"- I was so glad it was just him and Hotch. I didn't want anyone else to listen to that conversation- "You are going to get many chances to talk with that pretty girl."

- "We are going to have to go through the fraternization policy then."- Hotch joked. Yes, he joked and smiled as he walked away.

I could barely talk or even look at her during her whole first day. I was so embarrassed that week 'cos I had just failed my firearm qualification, and I knew everybody was judging me. At least that's how I felt. It didn't work that Morgan welcomed me that morning with a freaking whistle. I felt like the mockery of a Supervisory Special Agent of the FBI, and of all days, (Y/N) had to arrive that morning.

We had a long briefing that day, JJ catching (Y/N) up with a few cases we were reviewing, and Hotch gave her the proper induction to the team. Penelope loved her. It was friendship at first sight.

- "I'm so happy you are here to stay! There aren't enough girls here at the BAU!"- she nearly squeaked as soon as we left the meeting room- "I want to know everything about you! We are going to be best friends. I can feel it!"- (Y/N) smiled at Garcia and nodded.

- "If you are a cat lover and a sucker for nerdy things, then I guess we are already family."

Her answer made Penelope shriek in excitement as I walked back to my desk quickly. I knew Derek wasn't going to waste the chance to embarrass me in front of her, and I needed to avoid it no matter what.

- "Considering it's your first day, and so far we haven't got a case, I say we should all have lunch together. There's a small place nearby"- Morgan smiled sweetly at (Y/N), and she nodded.

- "I'd love to."

- "Spencer here was just telling me how he wanted to know how you got to the BAU so young; he is excited not to be the team's baby anymore"- I turned to Morgan slowly. I swear he could feel the daggers from my eyes.

- "How old are you?"- she asked, and her smile left me speechless. I tried to answer, but I couldn't make any sound but an awkward stutter.

- "He's twenty-four"- Elle had to answer for me, 'cos I had literally lost all my verbal abilities- "His birthday was a few weeks ago."

- "Congratulations! I'm twenty-four too! I'm so happy I'm not the youngest! My brother teased me about it for the last couple of days and got me all freaked out."

She looked so happy to be there. When you spend day after day surrounded by the worst of humankind, you seem to enjoy and appreciate the little gentle things in life. Her excitement was one of those. It was refreshing.

- "That's..."- it was so hard to pronounce any word at that moment. I was flustered and mortified 'cos I was making a fool out of myself.

- "That's great."

That was all I managed to say. Then, I looked down at the papers on my desk, doing my best to avoid any conversation. JJ and Elle talked to her for a few more minutes before returning to their duties, and Derek tapped my back as he walked to his desk.

- "Way to go, Romeo."

- "Shut up."

We never made it for lunch that day, 'cos we were called for a case in Illinois, and I was embarrassed in front of (Y/N) for the very first time. The first of many.

(Y/N)'s point of view

I could never forget the day I met Spencer. We were just kids. We were both twenty-four, and that was the first thing that caught everybody's attention on my first day at the BAU. We were the youngest, though he was a genius. I was an average kid who graduated high school at sixteen, got good grades at college, and got into the academy at twenty. Somehow I managed to kick ass until I got the position of my dreams in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I felt too young and inexperienced to be there, but seeing Reid's face made me feel a little better.

Hotch introduced me to everybody: Morgan, JJ, Elle, Penelope, Gideon -the legend- and Doctor Spencer Reid. He didn't shake my hand, explaining he has a "germs thing." I waved and said I understood him because I've always had a "hug thing," so we are both on the same page.

- "I don't like people touching me if we are not close friends or family."- I explained, and he smiled right away. That smile. It lit up my days for years to come.

- "Me neither, so don't worry, I'm not gonna try to touch you"- I bit my lips as I nodded, and his cheeks turned blood red with embarrassment immediately

- "Sorry, I mean, I'm not going to do anything that might bother you, like hugging you or..."

- "Don't worry, Dr. Reid, I understood what you were trying to say"- he kept nodding and excusing himself, and I tried not to laugh. He seemed to be so nervous it was endearing.

- "You... you can call me Spencer, or Reid"- he added- "You don't need to call me doctor."

- "You can call me (Y/N)"- and he nodded again, looking like a ten years old kid.

I remember clearly that second, right away, I thought he could be my new best friend. There was something about him that made me want to get closer to him.

- "Great! Now we've got two weird kids."- Morgan quickly said, chuckling, and I frowned at his words. I wanted to give him the snarkiest answer, but I remembered it was my first day, and I was still trying to give a good impression to my new coworkers, so I just stared.

- "You know, treating them like kids won't make you look wiser."- Elle whispered, though I heard her perfectly, as Hotch called to the briefing room.

- "I'm just joking with them! Don't you get a joke?"

I thought it was rude to joke around with someone you had just met, but soon after that, I realized Derek Morgan meant no harm. He was like that. And soon, he became the older brother I never thought I was going to need at work. After all, it was my first official job, and it was a very stressful one.

My first case was nerve-wracking. Gideon snapped in front of me, and I felt I wasn't helping at all catching the sniper. We are not supposed to use that word, but fuck it. Besides, Spencer and Hotch were kept hostage by the unsub. And Aaron had to beat the shit out of Reid to save all the hostages. Reid was so embarrassed, and I was so scared.

Scared of looking weak in front of my team. Afraid of not deserve being at the BAU.

I remember Elle brought me a coffee on the jet on our way back and said the words that resonated in my head when she left.

- "No one expects you to be perfect at what you do. We just need someone who gives the best every day."

I looked into her eyes and nodded. That was one of the few intimate conversations we had. Elle wasn't the one to open her heart and share her feelings. But she was always someone who could tell you the truth and support you when you needed it.

- "Hey! Reid!"- I waved at him from my car as I stopped next to him outside the BAU. It was already two in the morning, and he was outside the main building waiting for a cab.

- "Hey (Y/N)."- he whispered as I rolled up the window and looked at him.

- "Do you need a ride?"

- "No... no, thank you"- he hesitated and waved- "I already called a cab."

- "Are you sure? it's gonna start raining any minute now."

And just as I predicted, a few seconds later, Spencer's glasses were covered with tiny drops of water. He smiled and took a step closer to the car, opened the door, and got in.

- "Th... thank you"- he whispered as I smiled

- "It's ok, I couldn't let you there, on your own, waiting for a cab, not after coming back from a case."

- "I'm ok..."- maybe he thought I was implying the beating he got from Aaron earlier that day, so I did my best to tell him otherwise.

- "I bet you are, but it's fucking freezing, and we are all tired. There's no way you are waiting for a cab if I can drive you over... what about your car, by the way?"

- "I'm not a fan of driving; I take the subway to work every day."

- "Really? Why not?"- I was surprised by his answer, but I was way more surprised we were talking, finally.

- "I don't know, I don't feel comfortable driving... the guys say I'm weird."

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow. He looked so nervous it made me feel bad. Maybe I had done something that had bothered him and never noticed it.

- "That's not weird"- my voice was soft, trying to calm him down. Spencer looked like a scared kitten sitting on my car's passenger seat.

- "If you don't like driving, that's ok... I don't like talking on the phone with people. It makes me anxious for no reason."- I confessed, keeping my eyes on the road. But I know he turned to me and nodded.

- "That's completely normal. It's called "telephone phobia" or "phone phobia," which refers to the irrational fear or discomfort with speaking over the phone. Psychologists believe that this condition is related to social anxiety, which causes a person to avoid situations where they will need to act. Making a call is essentially a performance, and some people dread making a mistake, freezing up, being ridiculed, or not being able to perform in front of an audience."

- "Really?"- he just nodded and kept his eyes on the road- "I didn't know it had a name! My insurance should cover it."

And he finally laughed, which made me feel he was maybe a little more relaxed around me.

- "This is me."- he announced, and I parked outside his building. It was a nice place, and conveniently, it was very close to my house.

- "Great! I live just a few blocks away. I can give you a ride to work whenever you want"- I might have sounded a little more excited than I should have, but I wanted to be friends with him. He was the closest in age with me at work, and he looked so shy and friendly. He was a magnet. Spencer Reid was calling for my friendship. I could feel it.

- "Th.. thanks"- he stuttered and nodded as he opened the door and step out of the car- "Thank you, again."

- "You are very welcome!"- I answered with a big smile. He stared at me for another second and waved before turning around, basically running into the building.

I wish I could go back in time to those days. Everything was more uncomplicated, we were getting to know each other, and everything was brand new: Reid's rambling, my bad jokes. I miss that. I miss us.

It wasn't easy to get close to Spencer. It wasn't easy to get close to the team, probably 'cos I was overthinking every single thing I did. In my first couple of weeks, I was as friendly as I have ever been and made my best to be the (Y/N) I had to be as an FBI Agent. I was making a tremendous effort to fit it. I was nervous and walking on eggshells the whole time. Every time Hotch talked to me, I was sure he would tell me I was fired. When Gideon looked at me, I was sure he thought I was the dumbest agent he had ever met. And every time I spoke at the morning briefings, I just could feel Spencer thinking I was stupid.

- "(Y/N)! (Y/N)! I was looking for you!"- Penelope ran into me outside the lady's room and jumped on my face, making me scream- "Sorry!"

- "It's ok, you just almost killed me of a heart attack, but that's ok... I'll survive."- I joked as I kept feeling my heart jumping in my chest.

- "Sorry, I'm just excited 'cos everybody is in for a little gathering tonight at my house. I need to give you a proper welcome! You've already been here for nearly a month, and we still don't get to know much of you."

Hanging out with my coworkers outside the office was strange. Not that I didn't want to get to meet them, it's just that... they were FBI agents. Sure, so was I, but it was my first official Supervisory Special Agent job, and I was only twenty-four. There were so many of my teenage days I still wasn't ready to let go. And so much of it, I didn't want them to know.

- "Sure!"- I replied and smiled at her face lighting up. You could tell Penelope was excited to host a party at her house.

- "Great! Tonight! my place! I'll text you the address! you have to be there!"

- "I will, I swear!"

Spencer's point of view

Oh, man! The first time I actually talked to (Y/N) was on a get-together Penelope organized at her apartment a few weeks after (Y/N) joined the team. Garcia made an effort to make her feel welcome, she even invited Elle, and we all knew those two weren't incredibly close.

Derek drove Elle and me to Penelope's, and I was mortified every minute I spent in that car. He wouldn't stop teasing me, and Elle asked over and over if I had a crush on (Y/N).

- "No! I don't have a crush on her! can you knock it off?!"- I finally snapped as I got off the car outside Garcia's building.

- "Just because she is my age doesn't mean I have or should have a crush on her! she is our new colleague! so please! Stop!"

I slammed the door and walked inside. Did I make an unnecessary scene? Yes, but I couldn't handle anything better at that moment. They were driving me crazy.

- "Welcome! Welcome!"- Penelope opened the door and invited us in. (Y/N), and JJ were already there, holding a beer and laughing. I stared at the two of them and knew I wasn't going to say a word the whole evening.

Back then, I still had a small crush on JJ. We had a terrible date after Gideon gave me tickets for a football game with her favorite team. That was his way to encourage me to ask her out, which I did... but apparently, I sucked at it, 'cos she never got it was a date and invited Penelope to come along. Worst date of my life. But still, I got flustered around her, and my mind kept coming back to her from time to time.

- "So, pretty girl, why did you want to be part of the FBI?"- Morgan asked her after a while of small talk. She was sitting on Garcia's coach, next to our host and JJ. I turned to look at her from my chair, and I swear I felt Elle's eyes on me for a few seconds.

- "Do you usually call girls names?"- (Y/N) answered the questions with another question and frowned at Morgan. He just wide opened his eyes and smiled, surprised.

- "He calls everybody names."- JJ replied, chuckling

- "Hey! he calls me sweet names! Just me!"- Penelope got all jealous and possessive right away.

- "Did you know according to some studies, the reason people in relationships use pet names for their partners is that they're harking back to their own childhood experience and their first love, which usually relates to their mother"- facts came out of my mouth faster than I noticed. I didn't have a chance to stop myself.

Derek frowned right away and (Y/N) bit her lips, trying not to laugh. Elle lost that fight and let out a burst of loud laughter along with JJ.

- "Are you trying to tell me I've got mommy issues, Reid?"

- "No, no, of course not!"- my voice was agitated as I shook my head and hands frenetically. If there's one thing I never want to do is get Morgan mad. He is scary when he is crossed, and back then, we weren't as close as we are now. Let's say I was a little afraid I might say the wrong thing. I always said the wrong thing... I don't know when to stop.

- "I call people pet-names too, once I get to know them, so don't worry"- (Y/N) smiled at turned to Derek with a smile- "And to answer your question, why did I join the FBI? I guess I tried to follow dad's steps. He is chief of police here at Quantico... and my older brother is a detective at NYPD, so... I guess I never really thought about it. I knew where I wanted to be."

- "I bet they are proud"- JJ smiled at her, and I held my breath for a second. I don't know why I did it; I just remember feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden. Not because of JJ, but because I wanted to learn more about (Y/N). I wanted to know everything, but I had no idea how to ask her anything.

- "Well, my brother is very jealous since I joined the BAU"- she chuckled with a playful smile- "Now I'm dad's favorite."

She told us about her academy experience, and we all told her a little bit about ourselves. Morgan was nice enough to tell her everything about my degrees and IQ because, well, my IQ dropped to twenty when it was my turn to talk to her.

I found out she has a MA in Linguistics and was considering doing the DA, which she did. That's when I managed to speak, and we talked about our college experiences for a while.

- "Oh, no! I wasn't popular at all. When your dad is a cop, kids usually don't wanna talk to you or invite you to parties."- she explained as we stood at one side of the room. Talking to her on our own was a little bit easier than doing it with everybody else watching. I don't know why. So I took my opportunity when Derek was out getting more beer with Elle, and JJ and Garcia were in the kitchen.

- "Being fourteen and riding my bike to college didn't make me very popular either."- I confessed, and she chuckled

- "Sorry."

- "Don't be"- I smiled and looked down at my shoes- "I guess at a certain point in our lives, we have to start laughing about some of the bad things that happened to us"- her cellphone rang that second, and she looked at the screen with a small smile.

- "Sorry, I have to answer this, it's my boyfriend."

Boyfriend. I should have seen it coming.

I walked to the kitchen, defeated, and sighed. I left my empty can of Coke and looked at my friends.

- "I think I'm gonna go home."

- "What? No! It's too early, Spence!!"- JJ argued right away- "You never want to hang out with us outside work!"

- "Yeah!! Don't you want to have fun with us?"- Garcia begged and pouted. I wasn't sure I wanted to be there. I was very uncomfortable 'cos social gatherings weren't my thing (they are still not my thing anyway) until I heard her voice.

- "So, what are you guys doing?"- (Y/N) walked over and stood next to me

- "Who were you talking to?"- Penelope asked right away with a wink.

- "My boyfriend"- she was joyful, I could feel the happiness in her voice- "He just wanted to know if I was ok."

- "Boyfriend?"- JJ smiled, and I could feel her eyes glance over me.

- "I need to know everything!"- and Penelope hyperventilated right away- "How long have you been dating? Are you getting married soon? Is he the love of your life?"

- "Who's getting married?"- Morgan walked in and wide opened his eyes as he questioned the room.

- "(Y/N) is getting married!!"- Penelope nearly shrieked as (Y/N) shook her head laughing.

- "I'm not getting married! Paul and I started dating just a month ago; it's nothing serious."

I took a sip of the beer Elle gave me and sighed, staring at the bottle. I made my best not to look at Derek for the rest of the night. I didn't want him to give me any sorry glance or anything that might make anyone believe something that wasn't real.

It was a fun night, after all. After my beer, we talked; I felt a little looser and managed to ask (Y/N) about herself and told her I had overheard her telling Garcia she was a sucker for all nerd things.

- "Yeah, I'm a huge nerd"- her cheeks blushed with her confession.

- "I bet you can't beat baby genius here"- Morgan chuckled and tapped in my back, making everybody laugh... at me.

- "I've got the feeling I can top him... you have no idea the kind of geek I am"- she looked straight at me- "How many Star Wars conventions have you been to this year?"

- "Just one, you?"- I raised an eyebrow and watched her chuckle.

- "Five... last two I was in make-up and custom"- I wide opened my eyes as she bit her lips nervously.

- "And Doctor Who conventions?"- I asked her, way more intrigued than I had been about her before.

- "Only two this year, the academy and school got in the way of most of my fun..."

- "Do you have a favorite doctor?"- I had to ask

- "From the new series, ten, the classic Doctor who I have to say four."

- "Tom Baker is by far my favorite doctor of the whole series."

- "But you can't overlook the fantastic job David Tennant has done! He is the one who managed to charm a whole new generation with the show!"

- "Yeah, he is excellent! but he ain't no Baker"- I loved that conversation

- "Baker's popularity is 80% because he had Sara Jane, who is by far one of the best companions the doctor has ever had. She made him human and relatable"- she had a point, but I needed to argue with her. I opened my mouth to answer, but I couldn't because Morgan's voice was louder than my thoughts.

- "Ok, geeks, you can ramble about your tv shows and nerd things some other time, now let's make a toast. To our newest member, we hope you feel welcome working with us, 'cos you are gonna see us way more than you see your boyfriend"- she chuckled at those words and nodded.

- "Thank you, guys. You have been so nice to me these couple of weeks. I've got the feeling we are gonna get along."

- "Do you need a ride?"- (Y/N) turned to me as I grabbed my satchel, and she put on her coat.

- "Thanks, but Morgan is gonna take me home."- I whispered, scared to be alone with her again.

- "Actually, kid, I was planning to hit the club right now, it's still early, and we don't get many free nights, so..."- he looked at us and shrugged.

- "You don't mind?"- I asked her, and she gave me the warmest smile.

- "I just offered to do it, of course, I don't mind at all."

- "Thank you."

I didn't know if I wanted to kill Morgan or thank him. Either way, (Y/N) waved goodbye to everybody and walked out of Garcia's with me, after thanking everybody for the hundredth time for everything.

- "Are you tired?"- she asked me as we both sat in her car. She started it, and the music that came from the radio was so loud, I nearly covered my ears- "Sorry! Sorry! I was rocking my favorite album on my way over."

She quickly turned off the radio and gave me a guilty smile

- "It happens when you drive alone a lot."

- "Did you know listening to loud music helps you liberate stress?"- I started rambling- "There is a direct connection between your inner ear and the pleasure centers in the brain. Shortly explained, when you listen to loud music, endorphins are released, that act on the opiate receptors in our brains, they reduce pain and boost pleasure, resulting in a feeling of well-being."

If I was going to work with her, I had to find a way to talk to her. Even if that way was to ramble facts over and over again. Anything was better than silences, I guess.

- "Yeah! and it also works like a stimulant, which I needed after the week we just had..."- I chuckled, and she looked at me for a second- "By the way, I noticed you have a problem with coffee and sugar"

- "I don't have a problem with coffee!"- I felt nearly judged by her statement.

- "And sugar!"- she added and snickered

- "You know you shouldn't profile other profilers"- I made my best to make a joke, and I guess I nailed it, 'cos she chuckled.

- "That's hardly profiling, Reid! that's just watching you prepare your coffee every morning"

- "Have you been spying on me?"- I could help but to chuckle at that conversation. I was having fun.

- "No way on earth! I just happen to like to drink coffee too, which leads us to the question I wanted to ask, it's still early; Morgan was right, do you want to have a coffee or something... I'm in the mood for something sweet."

- "And you were judging me for my coffee with extra sugar!"

- "I'm not judging you! I'm just pointing out that I noticed what you are doing and wondering how many cavities you already have."

I laughed. An honest, real, pure laughter. She has always made me laugh as I've never had. Like there are no problems, no worries, no traumas. Nothing bad.

- "I have no cavities, thank you very much!"

- "Fine! and are you in the mood for a late coffee and cupcake with me?"- I stayed quiet and looked at her- Don't feel pushed to do it just because I'm giving you a drive

- "No, no, it's not that. I just don't wanna bother you"

- "If I am inviting you, Reid, it's because I want to do it, not because I'm feeling forced to do it"- she kept her eyes on the road, but her voice was so reassuring I couldn't doubt a word.

- "Wouldn't your boyfriend get mad or something?"- I whispered the question 'cos I was scared of the answer.

- "Why should he?"- she looked shocked by the questions- "If he gets jealous, then he is not the guy for me."

I cut her a short smile and nodded. Her personality was so different from mine. It was exciting to have her around.

- "I could eat a donut"- and she clapped at my answer, thrilled with the plan.

- "That's the spirit! I know just the place!"

We talked until four in the morning that night. I don't know how I managed to do it, not because I was tired, but because I was very nervous. Well, I was at the beginning, but talking with (Y/N) has always come easy to me, somehow. To the guy who was never able to speak in public or with any girl, spending three hours in a cafeteria talking, eating donuts, and drinking coffee in the middle of the night was the most significant achievement.

(Y/N)'s point of view

- "How do you know a place open at this hour?"- Spencer asked me the very first time we were out together for coffee. It was already close to four in the morning, and I had started yawning, 'cos even with all the sugar and caffeine I had consumed that night, I was weary.

- "Sorry to break the news, doctor, but are not the only one with a sugar problem"- I licked a little frosting from my finger and grinned- "Sometimes after classes, or when I was too stressed studying, I would come here, get a coffee, a cupcake and just... do nothing for a while, just to let my brain rest I guess"

- "That makes total sense. The brain needs free time to process new information and turn it into something more permanent. Though the amount of time a mind needs to construct a durable memory probably varies from one person to the next, it also depends on the complexity of what that person is trying to learn"

- "Well, believe me, it felt like I needed two weeks to process all the information, but I only had half an hour if I was lucky"

- "Then you are already trained for this work. We don't have much time to do anything when we are on a case"

- "That's what I've seen so far... but at least you all get along. It would suck to be stuck in a team that fight egos and divisions."

- "Yeah, you are right, we are lucky to have very nice people working with us... everybody brings something different to the team"- I nodded at his words and looked down at my fingers as I tried to wipe the leftover sticky glazed with a napkin.

I had been working there for four weeks already, and I still felt like I didn't belong. Honestly, it was such hard work being there, not because they weren't a great team, but because it was more challenging than I ever imagined. Profiling and traveling all over the nation catching serial killers was... stressing, to say the least.

- "You bring a completely different point of view in every case"- he continued speaking and looked down at his cup- "And your knowledge in Linguistics adds more information to the profiles, which helps working faster and better."

I held my breath at his words. I knew he was just polite, just trying to make me feel better about my job performance these weeks.

- "I can assure you, you have been an incredible addition to the team"- he stayed quiet for a second, still just staring at his cup.

- "Thank you."

- "It's true; I'm not telling you this 'cos I think you need to hear it. I wanted you to know 'cos that's how we all feel."

I know I was blushing. I don't know how to take a compliment. Not that I get many, but it's always weird to hear someone telling you so nice things about your work.

- "Thank you, Spencer"- he finally looked at me and nodded. We stayed in silence for a few minutes. I didn't know what else to say, and he seemed to be embarrassed.

- "Thank you, actually"- he finally whispered.

- "Why? I didn't do anything"- I was confused, but he was earnest about his words.

- "Thank you, 'cos you have been very nice to me, even though I am a barely tolerable person."

- "What? Barely tolerable? What the hell are you saying?"

- "I mean, I know I drive people crazy 'cos I am always rambling and giving unnecessary facts all the time"- I narrowed my eyebrows, not getting why he was saying those things.

- "You do not do that."

- "Maybe you haven't been here long enough to realize I am always giving facts, and..."- he was honest. He actually believed people were annoyed by him. It hurt me to know that's what he thought of himself.

- "I realized that within the first three hours into the job, but I think that's amazing."

- "People would always say it's annoying."

- "Why would they say that?"

- "Because... I know they do."

- "Well, whoever says or thinks that are assholes, I like your rambling."

Reid snorted, and I hit his arm with my knuckles softly. I really felt bad he was so insecure, and most of all, he thought everybody hated him.

- "I mean it, Spencer, I wish I knew half the things you know, and if being with you means having to listen to your rambling, I think it's incredible, 'cos it gives me the chance to soak some of that knowledge."

The way he smiled, it was like his whole face lit up. He blushed, obviously embarrassed, and it also blushed me, 'cos he was gorgeous when he smiled.

- "So please, don't stop the facts, not with me"- he nodded and sipped what was left of his coffee.

After another few minutes, we left, and I drove him home. We were in a small sugar rush; we were too tired to have a full effect. I knew all I wanted was my bed and sleep the whole weekend.

- "I had a great time tonight"- I parked my car outside his building and smiled- "At Penelope's and with you"

I was so excited we had finally talked and gotten closer. I wanted to be friends with him so badly. Why? I don't know. I just knew I needed him in my life, from that minute on.

- "I had a great time too"- he smiled and held his satchel- "See you Monday"

- "Yeah! See ya!"

- "Drive safe!"

- "I will!"

I got home that night and laid on my bed, fully dressed. I barely took off my shoes and fell asleep right away. I was too tired to think, too tired even to put on my pajamas. But I wasn't too tired to remember Spencer's smile while he ate donuts. His dorky glasses, the way he gesticulated everything he said when he was excited about a subject. I was glad I had finally gotten to talk to him for once. And I couldn't wait to do it again.

Back then, Paul and I had just started dating. I wasn't in love with him, but he was a nice, funny guy I loved spending time with. I met Paul a couple of months ago at a friend's party. He was fun to be with, and we had a lot of things in common. We were both into music. He had a band, I didn't back then, but eventually got mine over time. He was like me, nothing like my friends at the BAU.

I thought that was cool, 'cos he represented a part of me I didn't want to lose working at the FBI. I was terrified I was going to lose myself in my new job. I saw how it affected dad's and my brother's life, how they were consumed by it in almost every single way. It was why my parents got divorced. It was why my brother couldn't keep a girlfriend for longer than a few months. 'Cos work was first, and their job was everything. The crazy hours, having to answer every call, no matter how busy you were. I thought it was sick how work could be your whole life. I was decided not to let it happen.

Yeah. I had no idea what I was getting into.

Soon after I joined the BAU, the nightmares began. I guess nothing prepares you to see so many people die. And nothing prepares you to kill someone, no matter if that someone is a child abuser.

I took the shoot, didn't even hesitate. It went right between his eyes. It was him or me, I know that. He was going to kill me. But still, it was hard.

Derek turned to me as I stayed still, in shock. It took me a few seconds to even breathe. I had just killed a person. It wasn't just some random thing.

- "(Y/N), are you ok?"- he landed a hand on my shoulder, and I quickly nodded.

- "Yeah, I'm ok... that was fast"- it was all I could say and turned to him. He gave me a short warm smile and wrapped an arm around me. I flinched at his touch right away and held my breath again. I don't know if he felt it, but still, he didn't let me go.

Derek has that thing when he doesn't care if you want it or no; he will give you his love and friendship when he feels you deserve it. I guess I'm lucky to call him my friend. And he really pushed that hug thing I still have.

- "Are you ok?- Spencer's voice was a sweet whisper. He sat carefully next to me in the jet and gave me a warm cup of tea- "I made you the one you like"

Of course, he had noticed my favorite brand, 'cos that's what Spencer does, he takes mental notes of everything and never, ever forgets. I wonder if that's a good thing or not. I guess it depends on what you remember.

- "Yeah, just tired"- working at the BAU, you can hide any kind of feeling behind the "I'm so tired" excuse. Mostly because we are indeed tired the whole time.

- "It was an extreme case"- I sipped my cup of tea and nodded at his words- "Do you..."

- "No, I'm ok, I don't wanna talk about it"- he bit his lips as he smiled. We both stayed quiet for a while. He read (somehow, at a relative normal peace), and I drank my tea. I couldn't concentrate on anything, so I just looked outside and tried not to think about the unsub's face and how he looked when I killed him.

- "How was your first time?"- I finally asked him, and I think my question caught him by surprise, 'cos he nearly jumped on his seat- "Not your first time in the sack, the first time you had to..."

- "No, I got it, I got it"- he was already blushing, it was adorable- "My first time was actually the first time you drove me home"

- "Really?"

- "Yeah"- he made a pause and gathered his thoughts, I guess- "I didn't really go out to the field a lot before 'cos I didn't have my firearm qualification"

And suddenly I remembered how embarrassed he was about it on my first day at the BAU. Derek made sure everybody knew about it 'cos he thought it was hilarious. And I thought he was a jerk for making fun of him.

- "And did it affect you?"- it was a stupid question. I knew Spencer was a sensitive person; of course, killing someone was going to affect him in many ways- "I mean, how did it affect you?"

- "I couldn't feel anything at first"

- "Shock?"- he nodded and sighed- "Gideon said that maybe I didn't know what I felt and that's why I thought I didn't feel a thing, but that wasn't it, it was like I was numbed inside... but then when it hits you"- he murmured- "And you can't stop thinking about it"

- "I think it hit me sooner than I thought"- I closed my eyes and sighed, but even then, I could feel those empty dead eyes staring at me.

- "Wanna know what helped me?"- Spencer's voice was velvety and soothing. It felt relaxing talking to him.

- "What?"- I whispered and turned to look at him

- "Remember two things: you did what you had to do"- I sighed at that with a small smile. It didn't sound like something I could believe at that moment.

- "And the second?"

- "A lot of kids are alive and safe because of you"

Now, that made me feel a lot better. Reid was right. I did what I had to do to help people. That guy wasn't going to stop.

- "Thanks"- I managed to give him a slight smile, and he did the same.

- "I'm here to talk if you want to"

It felt like he was really making an effort to say those words. I didn't know why it was still so hard for him to talk to me. Maybe it was still a sensitive subject for him, so I did what I do best: I joked about it.

- "Thank you... I'll try to avoid the issue as much as I can, but when I collapse under the pressure, I promise I'll come to you"- he chuckled at my answer and nodded right away.

- "Great plan."

And a few days later, I couldn't sleep anymore. I kept waking up to those eyes. I kept feeling guilty for killing a child abuser who was trying to kill me. I relived in my mind that moment over and over again.

- "Babe, come back to bed"- Paul found me sitting by the kitchen island staring at a herbal teacup at two am. It was my third insomnia night.

- "Yeah, I'll be right there"- he turned to walk back to the room but hesitated and looked at me again.

- "Do you want to talk about it?"- I shook my head, still not taking my eyes from the cup. He slowly walked to me and held my hand - "Come on, babe, everything looks worse at two am."

And he was right. Everything seemed to be worse when it came to my mind in the middle of the night. But it didn't get any better during the day either. He cuddled with me in my bed and fell asleep soon after. I just stayed there, feeling his chest moving softly with his soft breathing, thinking I had killed someone, and it wasn't going to be the last time I was going to face something like this.

Spencer's point of you

Do you want to know something sad? I was excited we had an unsub in New York 'cos I had never been there. Back then, I didn't know my colleagues were going to tease me about it. I didn't give it too much thought. I honestly wasn't good at leaving my house when we weren't in a case. Most of my traveling had been due to work, and other than La Vegas and Pasadena, I hadn't been to many cities just to sightsee.

Why am I thinking about that right now? 'cos we were in New York the day (Y/N) gave me her first gift.

Everybody had made fun of me during dinner because I didn't know how to eat with chopsticks. JJ tried to teach me, which also caused hours of Morgan's teasing for the rest of the trip. Thankfully, they dropped the jokes when we went back to the police station to take one last look at the profile after we got a call out unsub had killed a cop this time.

But after two hours of thinking, neither of us was honestly able to give any new idea to the case. Hotch insisted we head back to the hotel to have some rest. (Y/N) was one of the last ones to leave, along with Gideon and me.

- "Stop looking at the board"- she said, standing by my side, bag in hand- "Let's go. Your big brain needs to rest."

- "I won't be able to sleep knowing I'm missing something"- I answered, not taking my eyes from the board

- "Come on"- (Y/N) playfully hit my arm- "You need your eight hours of sleep to be a fully functional genius"

- "You should try to get a full night's sleep as well"- I turned to her and watched her eyes widen- "What? Do you think I didn't notice you haven't been sleeping?"

- "No, but I thought you were going to wait until I had a mental breakdown to force me to talk about it; that was the plan, right?"

I tried not to laugh, but it was hard; she is so funny, though I knew that was a sensitive subject, it had been weeks since the incident, and it was clear (Y/N) wasn't processing everything right. If anything, her jokes were a coping mechanism to avoid talking or even thinking about what had happened.

- "We can also talk about it, just... talk"

- "I know what happens with me, Reid"- she whispered and looked around. Gideon was outside, no way near us, but still, she kept her voice low. It made me see she was scared he would hear her, 'cos she didn't want him to think she was weak.

- "I guess I just have to make peace with it. It was gonna happen, and it will happen again, it's my job, it's part of what I do, end of it."

I looked at her and nodded in silence. There was so much I wanted to tell her, but I couldn't shake the thought she was going to laugh at me.

- "Do you want to?"- I made a pause and took a deep breath. Yes, I was very nervous- "Do you want to walk back to the hotel? it's just a few blocks and maybe... fresh air can help you relax?"

I didn't mean to hesitate so much, but it was scary for me to ask her to spend time on our own. I don't know why. It wasn't just with her; it happened with everybody at that point in my life. I was sure no one wanted to spend time with me. Why would they?

- "Can we have a midnight cupcake?"- she asked and smiled. I bit my lips and pretended to give the idea a lot of thinking, though I was craving donuts ever since we didn't have time for dessert at dinner.

- "Just one, and no coffee"

- "What are you? The sleeping police?"- she teased me and led the way. We waved at Gideon and walked outside the police station.

For a rainy night, it was freezing. But I didn't care much. I was too busy looking around, it was technically my first night out in New York, and though I was just leaving work and walking back to the hotel, it was the biggest adventure I have had there so far.

For the first couple of minutes, we walked in silence. (Y/N) looked at her feet, hands stuffed in her pocket as I walked next to her, holding my umbrella for the two of us. I tried to take in everything that was going on around us. It was exciting, being there, alone. I was a twenty-four-year-old Supervisory Special Agent of the FBI, and I was excited to walk with a friend in the New York city streets. No wonder why Morgan called me "kid."

- "Did you know more than 800 languages are spoken in New York City? that makes it the most linguistically diverse city in the world"- I had to start rambling facts after a while because I guess I couldn't help it.

- "Vraiment?"- she answered, and I chuckled. Of course, Master in Linguistics.

- "Oui"- I thought we could have a whole conversation in french; it would have been fun and fascinating, but my French was very rusty, and I didn't know if she was fluent or just learned a few things.

- "When I was a kid, I dreamt about living in New York. I was obsessed with it"- she kept looking down at her feet as she spoke, and I turned to look at her for a second. She looked sad somehow, or that's what I read from her. I've always done my best not to profile profilers. It's harder than you imagine.

- "Why?"- she chuckled at her thoughts and kept her eyes on her shoes.

- "You know how they always make you feel no matter how weird you might be, you are still going to fit in New York?"

- "You are not weird"- I couldn't help but frown and look at her- "You are..."

- "I am weird, we are all weird, that's what makes us great"

I loved that thought. That's why I've never forgotten it. Lie, I can't forget. I remember everything we've said to each other because I want to, not because I have an eidetic memory.

- "But when you are in school, everybody is trying to fit it and be normal, and that wasn't me at all..."

I didn't see that coming, and I have to admit it, I loved it. I often felt I was an outsider at the BAU. Hotch, Gideon, Morgan, Elle, JJ, they all fit in everywhere we'd go. Meanwhile, everybody looked at me, wondering what the hell am I doing there. I could read it on their faces. The fact the team had to introduce me as "Doctor Spencer Reid" is a sign they are making an effort to make me look older and more experienced. Reliable, even.

- "Why would you say you are weird?"- I had to ask- "You look very normal to me, I mean it"- she raised an eyebrow and didn't say a word. She just pulled my jacket and dragged me to a coffee shop.

- "Cupcakes, Reid, you can't expect me to tell you embarrassing facts about my life without a cup of coffee and a mountain of sugar."

JJ always said I ate like a kid, too many pastries and candy, no salad. Meanwhile, (Y/N) kept pushing sugar into my body. I liked that. They were both so different. JJ treated me like I didn't know how to deal with life. (Y/N) treated me like I could help her deal with life. JJ wanted to help me grow up. I could feel (Y/N) wanted to be my friend, and I loved that. I had never felt someone longing for my company. It was always the opposite. I usually felt people were stuck with me.

For months I kept comparing the two of them in my head. JJ had such condescending manners, it sometimes made me think she might actually have feelings for me. Other times, Morgan would call her my mom, which took all the hopes from my mind.

- "What do you do in your free time, Reid?"- (Y/N) sat in front of me in a booth. Right in between us, a table with two coffees, a red velvet cupcake, and a chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles.

- "I read, study..."- I didn't give much thought to my answers- "I also write a letter to my mom every day"

- "That's so cute"- I felt how my cheeks turned blood red, and she smiled at me sweetly.

- "Thanks..."- I sipped my hot cappuccino and winced as the coffee burned my tongue, and she chuckled.

- "Slowly, doc, or are you in a hurry?"

- "Definitely not, I have no other plan, I mean, I could sleep, but I know I won't, and, and I know you won't sleep either, so"- the words left my mouth at such a fast pace, not even I got them all. (Y/N) nodded and started taking apart her cupcake, little by little.

- "That's awesome, 'cos I like hanging out with you, and I don't feel like hanging out with Elle tonight. We are sharing rooms."

- "You don't like her?"- now that was breaking news- "I thought you two got along"

- "Don't get me wrong, I like her. I just don't feel like being the version of myself I am when I'm with her"

I looked at her, not sure of where she was going. She took a piece of cake and ate it slowly.

- "You lost me"- (Y/N) sighed and ran a finger around the edge of her cup.

- "Are you really you the whole time when you are at work, Reid?"

- "Well, yes?"- I wasn't sure that was the answer she wanted, but it was the only one I had- "I don't know how to be anybody else"

That was the whole truth. That's still the truth. Maybe that's why I have never been popular. People say I have no empathy, that I can't read any social cues. If I knew how to be someone else, I would probably try to change that and be a Spencer that's entirely sympathetic and social, like everybody else. But I can't force myself to act differently.

She stared at me, and I could feel the frustration piling behind her small smile.

- "Do you want to know something weird?"- her eyes shone as she stared into mines asking the question

- "Always"

- "You are the only person at the BAU I feel I can be myself with"- she whispered and sipped her coffee again.

- "Thanks?"- I was confused- "But... you are not that different with me than you are with the rest of the team"

- "Well, I am... I don't share who I really am at work because I am afraid"

- "Why? What scares you?"- she sighed and laid back on the seat. I kept my eyes fixated on her until she furrowed her brows, staring back at me

- "Are you trying to profile me, Spencer? 'cos we are not supposed to profile each other. I'm pretty sure it was in the contract I signed"- I smiled, busted, and nodded.

- "If it makes you feel any better, you are hard to read"

- "I'm a good liar, don't tell anyone"

She was proud of her answer, and I guess she should have been. You have to be an excellent liar to catch unsubs, get in their head, play with them when you have to make them talk. I guess she was ahead of me in that area.

- "Well, If it makes you feel better, I feel more comfortable around you than most of the team"

I closed my eyes as I spoke, and I knew my voice had been so low and soft, it hadn't been surprising if she hadn't been able to hear me, but she did.

- "Is it because I don't like touching people either?"- she joked, and a small smile stretched across my lips

- "It is because you"- I stopped and rearranged my thoughts. You could tell she was eager to hear the rest of my answer, and I was making sure not to make a fool out of myself.

- "It's because it feels you don't judge me for being me"

- "That's exactly how I feel, Spencer"- her smile was so big it made mine grow bigger as well.

- "But, why can't you be you with everybody?"- (Y/N) took a big bite of her cupcake, feeling more confident about our conversation and nodding.

- "Mmm, this is so damn good, you should try it, Reid"

- "Answer the question, (Y/N)"- I ignored her random comment and asked again- "Why can't you just be you?"

- "There are two answers to that question, and both of them are real"- she finally confessed and bit her lips, playing again with a little piece of cake on the dish.

- "I'm waiting"

- "You know, for someone who said has all the night off, you are indeed in a hurry now!"- she snickered and stuck out her tongue at me.

- "Fine, here's the truth: I don't want to share my whole real me at work because I am scared people will judge me and think I'm weird and too immature for the job, but at the same time, and this is the second reason, I don't wanna show my whole me at work 'cos I am afraid I'll lose it along the way, I am worried the FBI will take that weird part of me and will turn me into an SSA."

- "You are an S.S.A., (Y/N)"

- "I know, but I'm afraid I might end up being an ASS, Reid"

Her joke made me laugh so hard, tears fell down my cheeks. And she looked pleased to see me laughing.

- "See? That's me, the girl telling weird jokes the whole time 'cos can't stand a serious "grown-up" conversation. Can you imagine this (Y/N) talking with Hotch? Seriously, Reid, can you imagine?"

- "No, I can't"- I shook my head, still chuckling, and took a bit of my donut- "But I would definitely love to."

- "Do you want to know what I do in my free time?"- my mouth was still full, so I just nodded, feeling a little guilty I hadn't asked about her when she had asked about my hobbies.

- "I ride my longboard and play bass, do you think an SAA should be doing that? Do you think Elle does it? JJ? they are the perfect fit for the role. I am that kid at the back of the class who got a stroke of luck and managed to hang out with the cool kids"

- "Am I one of the cool kids?"- I had to ask

- "Yes, Reid, why?"

- "I've never been one of the cool kids before"- she gave me a severe look and sipped her coffee.

- "Here I am, pouring my heart and soul out for you, and all you care about is being one of the popular kids. That's being a lousy friend, Reid."

She was joking, and we both chuckled, but my chest tightened at her words, and the smile on my lips grew wider. She called me her friend for the first time that night.

- "I think you are overthinking this whole thing, (Y/N)"- she sighed at my words and finished her coffee- "We are all weird, you said it yourself"

- "Some on us more than other"

- "Yes, but that's what makes us great and unique. I told you, your vision brings a whole new point of view to the profiles, and I know what it's like to feel insecure people will judge you for being too young"

- "I know, that's why I'm glad you are here"

I am sure I was blushing, and I am absolutely certain she noticed because I heard her giggle as I looked down at my empty dish and fidgeted with my cup.

- "And... are"- I stuttered and narrowed my eyes. I knew I had to stop being so nervous around her; she was my friend, she had said it herself- "Are you ready to talk about your nightmares?"

- "Are you profiling I have nightmares?"- she raised an eyebrow and questioned my question

- "I am staring at the back rings under your eyes. It's clear you haven't been sleeping and considering we both know you went through a traumatic incident, to call it that way, you are clearly going through night terrors or nightmares"

- "Did you go through the same?"

- "Yes, I did"

- "And how did you overcome it?"

- "I haven't. I just made my peace with it"- you could read the deception on her face. That wasn't the answer she was waiting for.

- "They will be more sporadically, I promise, (Y/N)"

- "That's what's scares me too"

- "What?"

- "That one day I won't have the nightmares 'cos I'll be used to seeing the darkness and horror around me."

When we left the cafeteria, it was two in the morning, and the night was freezing. It was no longer raining, and the cold wind could freeze your skin in a second. (Y/N) looked at me as I shivered and opened her bag.

- "Here, put this on"- it was a purple scarf.

- "Thank you"- I was so cold I didn't hesitate. The wool was warm, soft, and it smelled like her- "It's pretty"- I felt I had to compliment it, 'cos she was too nice with me.

- "I made it myself"- you could tell she was proud. I tightened it around my neck and continued our way back to the hotel.

I hadn't felt I could count on someone at the FBI as I did with her. She wouldn't think I'm a kid; she wouldn't be forced to hang out with me. It felt pretty good to have a friend again. Ethan had been the last one I had lost. I always lose the people I love.

- "Thank you"- we were standing outside (Y/N)'s room back at the hotel. I took off the scarf and tried to give it back to her, but she didn't let me.

- "Keep, it's a present for being my first and best BAU friend"- I felt profoundly flattered, and I'm pretty sure I giggled, blushing- "Besides, purple looks good on you"

- "It's my favorite color"- I confessed- "And I'm not saying it just to make you feel good"

- "Then you have to keep it. It was made for you even when I didn't know it"- she smiled one more time and opened the door- "Good night, Reid."

- "Good night, (Y/N)."

----------

Series Masterlist

Chapter two

Do you want to comment this chapter? share a thought? or maybe join the tag list?

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#spencer reid #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #penelope garcia #jeniffer jareau #jason gideon #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #diwk

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yasminbenoit · 4 years

Text

“A Romantic Partner Won’t Complete Me, Because I Was Born Complete”: How Identifying As Asexual & Aromantic Brought Me True Freedom & Happiness | Yasmin Benoit for British Vogue

There is a phase in our lives where everyone seems asexual and almost everyone seems aromantic. It wasn't until puberty kicked in that platonic relationships seemed to take a backseat. My peers stopped wanting to play together and started wanting to 'date' each other. That was when I started to realise that there was something different about me. I didn’t seem to be experiencing the same urges as those I was around. I chose to go to an all girls school in the hopes that – in the absence of boys – everyone would stop caring about sex and dating. It actually had the opposite effect. There was a sense of deprivation in the air and the heightened desire to project their sexuality onto anything and everything.

Therefore, my lack of interest became even more obvious, and it became a not-so-fun game to work out the source of what should be troubling me, but hadn’t been until that point. Having a sexual orientation isn’t just natural, it’s essential. It’s part of being a fully-functional human being. And to be romantically love and be loved by another is the ultimate goal. It’s part of being normal, which made me both abnormal and puzzling. When your asexual, people think there’s something wrong with your body. When you’re aromantic, they think there’s something wrong with your soul. Even for a teenage girl who internalised all of Disney Channel’s “be yourself” messages, it’s never nice to have people publicly debate your supposed physical and psychological flaws.

My nickname in school was “hollow and emotionless.” I was a joker with a decent amount of friends, but I was lacking something crucial, the kind of love that really mattered and the kind of lust that made life exciting...so I was practically Lord Voldemort with braids. I sat through the regular DIY sexuality tests, having my peers show me graphic sexual imagery, have very sexual conversations in my presence, and ask me inappropriately intimate questions to gauge how far gone I truly was. These tests lead to the development of theories, most centred around me having some kind of mental problem. After a while, you start to wonder if everyone knows something you don’t.

When they said that I must have been molested as a child and “broken” by the trauma, I wondered if I had somehow forgotten about sexual abuse that actually hadn’t happened. I looked at some of my own relatives with suspicion, the same people who would later ask me if I didn’t experience sexual attraction because I was a pedophile. It was suggested that I was “suffering” from my “issues” because I was socially anxious and insecure. The suggestion that my ‘issue’ was pathological stayed with me for a long time, but not as much as the widely accepted theory that I was mentally slow. Unfortunately, that one stuck. I was referred to as “stupid” and I started to believe that was the case. It would impact my experience in education for the next eight years, long after I realised that there was a word for what I was.

Asexual.

I first heard the word during one of the near-daily sexuality tests that I was subjected to. I was asked if I was gay, to which I said that I wasn’t interested in anybody like that – men or women. At fifteen, I was asked, “Maybe you’re asexual or something?” but it wasn’t quite a lightbulb moment. How could it be when I had never heard the word outside of biology class? After an evening of Google searching, I realised that there were many people with my exact same experience, complete strangers whose stories sounded so strangely similar to mine. I also stumbled across the word ‘aromantic,’ but at the time, I didn’t understand the need for it. "Wouldn't all asexual people be aromantic? A romantic relationship without sex is just friendship with rules,” I thought.

Either way, my discoveries showed me that I wasn’t alone, but that only half helpful. I now had an identity that no one had heard of or understood. Most didn’t believe that being asexual or aromantic was a real thing, and I doubted it to. I had been taught to after years of armchair pathologisation. If asexuality was real, why did no one tell you that being sexually attracted to nobody was an option? What if it was just an internet identity made up to comfort people with all of the issues that had been attributed to me? I didn’t have to go far down the rabbit hole to realise that asexuality, like many non-heteronormative identities, had been medicalised. What I had experienced as just the tip of the iceberg. As someone who hadn’t been prescribed drugs I didn’t need or subjected to unnecessary hormone tests, I was one of the lucky ones.

My activism would be my gateway to the community. Despite being the ugly friend at school, I ended up becoming a model while in university. I decided to use the platform I had gained through my career to raise awareness for asexuality and aromanticism. It gave me the opportunity to encounter a range of asexual and aromantic offline, it was then that I learned the significance of having an aromantic identity. There are many asexual people who still feel romantic attraction, as well as aromantic people who still feel sexual attraction. They have their own range of experiences, their own culture, their own flag, and like the asexual community, I was relieved to see that they are just normal people. These intersecting communities are not stereotypes. They weren’t just thirteen year old, pink haired kids making up identities on Tumblr to feel special. They were parents, lawyers, academics, husbands, girlfriends, artists, black, white, young, old, with differing feelings towards the many complex elements of sexuality and intimacy. Most importantly, they were happy.

I am proud to be part of both, and I know that while being asexual and aromantic, I am a complete person and I can live a perfectly fulfilling life. Since meeting members of my communities, I’ve become more open about my identities in real life, and a reaction I’m often met with is sympathy. “You must feel like you’re missing out,” “I can’t imagine being like that,” “It must be hard for your family,” “Do you worry no one will want you?” “How do you handle being so lonely?” “You’re so brave and strong,” “What will you do with your life now?” Even in 2021, a woman who isn’t romantically loved or sexually desired by their “special someone” is perceived as being afflicted with some kind of life-limiting condition.

Asexuality doesn't make undesirable or unable to desire others. It is a unique experience of sexuality, not a deprivation from it. Even if it was, there is so much more to life than what turns us on and what we do about it. Romantic love is just one form of love, neither superior nor inferior to any other. Being aromantic doesn't mean that you can't love or be loved, it does not mean you are void of other emotions or capabilities. I am not lonely with my friends, family, co-workers and supporters. I feel confident not when someone wants to date me but when I meet my goals and form worthwhile connections with others. My success isn't determined by whether someone will want to marry me someday. What we want out of life is our decision alone, our sources of happiness should not be defined by our ever-changing, culturally relative social standards. The love of a romantic partner won't complete me because I was born complete. Feeling sexual attraction to others won't liberate me because my liberation is not dependent on other people.

Valentine's Day is on the horizon. It's an occasion that amps up the focus on (and the pressure to achieve) a very specific type of love and sexual expression, one that is actually alienating for people inside and outside of the asexual community. During a pandemic where many relationships have been strained, tested, formed or distanced, it's important to keep the diversity of romantic and sexual feelings in mind. Many expect me to feel annoyed or lonely during this time of year, but I actually feel empowered and excited by the way sex, romance and love are discussed more deeply around this time. These conversations are constantly expanding to become more inclusive for everyone, and that's what we need to see all year round.

https://www.vogue.co.uk/arts-and-lifestyle/article/asexuality-and-aromanticism

#yasmin benoit #valentines day #british vogue #asexuality #aromantic #aromanticism #aroace #asexual #this is what asexual looks like #thisiswhatasexuallookslike

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angelicyoongie · 4 years

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desolate (12)

— summary: you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so, you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

— pairing: cat hybrid yoongi x human reader

— genre: angst, fluff, smut

— word count: 5.1k

— tag list: @mrcleanheichou @ladymidnightt @cheese123344 @xanny91 @dinorahrodriguez @best-space-boy @dulcaet @moccahobi @keijaycreates @staytrillswag @xsmilebitesx @serendipityoreuphoria @jiminot7 @beyond-the-swag @nananaum1 @mult1wh0re @faithsummers11 @twomilkmen-gocomedy @theonewholovestoread @karissassirak @veryuniquenamegoeshere @yourlipssoirresistible @ayoo-bangtan @murderyoursoul @btsxdoll @see3milyblog @gukiyi @mtgforall @narcissism-iskey @sp3ak-yours3lf @cesthoney @imluckybitches @hd-junglebook @sugarrimajins @btstxtgenre @multifandomgirl29 @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @bangtansleftnut @theresa-nam-nam-me @angeltothecore @ghostkat23 @deathkat657 @awixxx @httpmedxsa @veronawrites @bubbletae7 @serious-addiction @chogiyeol-utopia @nomimits7 @lorielulu7 @1am9root6 @sana-b @diamonddia-mond @jiminiessipabo @myhearttteu @rainbowmagicpixecorn @lidda @rosiethefairy @lovinggalaxies @midnight1199 @trinityautumn @linniewritesficz @fearhoshi @ess-place @juniesoftbot @kingalls00 @toribug2020 @daydreambrliever @moonlight-mochi @sleepyje0n @yoonie-bby @alltimeyoongi @honestlyfuriousharmony @itsoktheresbts @suzziequeuie @miss–insanity @illnevertrustmyselfagain @annoyingpessimist @lovelikeyouwant @originalpersonawobblerduck @cigarettes-after-tears @kookie-vuitton @thefangirlsoul @lmna990 @luvshorses08 @nanananisstuff @marvelstuck @kissmeimwitchy @crazyxforxmyself @hxsxxk-180294 @ratking101 @brittaney341 @shameless-army @yuukihime2097 @adoorinyourheart @heimdoodle @kissing-fear @toripeix @horanghae18 @redperson58 @awsome-small-k @salomea27 @johnnystolemywig @mihto @jisoosbitch @lyrxbz @forever-once-gone @sugalarity @out-of-jams @ithinkileftmycoatoutside @witchxlove @chocoflagcutii @alyboo-jpeg @ladyartemesia @tatiiz24 @boinko-boye @kaceyxmarie74 @fuckthatfeeling @makepastanotwar13 @airiguk @justliketheoceann @strawbewymiwk @skswriting @kofikats @rainbow-zebra-unicorns @mhmbrigitta @forever-yoongis @prybts @phatbussyincorporated @itsmethepancake @alterlovess @boredoomfm @furblrwurblr @moments-of-melancholy @barbikatherine @crookedstarlitnight @moonlightjoonx @ibsenova-nora @aphroditis-world @ramaali1 @inhalebts

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part six Part seven Part eight Part nine Part ten (M) Part eleven Part thirteen Part fourteen (M)

”Cat hybrid?” You squeak.

”Yes. Forgive me for not knowing his name–“ Mr. Yang pauses, looking at you expectantly. Yoongi’s name tumbles out of your lips before you can stop yourself, your co-worker’s kind face making it hard to keep your guard up. And if Mr. Yang is really the one who orchestrated the breaches, shouldn’t that be enough to trust him?

“–Yoongi, I see. It was Ki-woo that alerted me about him,” Mr. Yang nods his head in the hybrid’s direction, “He picked up Yoongi’s scent once when he came up to fix Jihyo’s computer a while back, but he couldn’t quite figure out why it was so familiar.”

“While I must say I was surprised to learn that you had a cat hybrid’s scent lingering on you when you hadn’t adopted one, it made more sense once Ki-woo realized where he had smelled him before,” Mr. Yang says, a sad smile forming on his lips.

“You see .. Ki-woo’s old owner was a police officer. And a corrupt one at that,” Ki-woo hangs his head, his long hair falling forward to hide his face as your gaze flickers uncertainly back and fourth between the two men. “Ki-woo was forced to join as his hybrid companion, and I’m sure you’re aware of how that usually turns out.”

Your heart sinks.

You are. You’ve assisted multiple cases like Ki-woo’s before. Sadly, it’s all too common that the police officers that don’t care much for their hybrids force them to become their companions – which is honestly just a glorified term for a human shield. You’ve lost count over how many hybrids you have had to defend from their owners who believed that it was the hybrid’s job to protect them and risk their life for them. The blatant disrespect they have for other people’s life makes your stomach turn. There are of course always a few officers who treat their hybrids as partners and not companions, but those are too far and few in between. The fact that Ki-woo got a bad one doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, and that’s a horrifying thought.

“Ki-woo assisted him on multiple aspects of the job, but especially when it came to well.. losing evidence,” Mr. Yang sighs.

“A hybrid never forgets a s-scent, and that’s why I was so s-shocked when I realized that I could recognize the s-smell on your things,” Ki-woo glances up at you nervously, tongue quickly swiping over his lips. ”The last time I had s-smelled that was when I was helping my old owner burn a box of evidence for a murder case. I couldn’t figure out why that s-scent would be lingering on anything after s-so many years, but it would make s-sense if they were .. related.”

So, Yoongi must share the same scent as his mom, or at least a part of it. “But that all happened so long ago, and you don’t look that much older than me?”

Ki-woo swallows hard. “I’m not. I s-started working as a companion when I was fifteen.” That makes your blood boil. If he had been forced into such a dangerous and terrible position while he was still a child – you really don’t want to know what his life outside of work looked like. You can’t imagine he was taken good care of.

“I’m sorry,” You say. While it can’t do anything to change what has already happened, it still needs to be said. Someoneneeds to say it. Ki-woo gives you a small nod in return.

“But why do all of this? What do you gain from it?” You turn your attention back to Mr. Yang, the older man resting against the edge of a nearby desk.

“Justice,” He says. “There are too many cases that get swept under the rug and forgotten, and the hybrids involved deserved better. They deserve that someone cares.”

“Luckily we aren’t the only ones who think that. Social media has been a big help when it comes to demanding retrials – there’s strength in numbers, and it’s amazing how just a little heat can make someone slip up and expose something they were supposed to keep quiet about,” You find yourself nodding along to Mr. Yang’s words. There had been a significant surge in retrials for hybrids over the last couple of years, and most got ruled in favour of the hybrid the second time. To think that your own co-worker was behind all of that ..

“It can’t be just you two?”

The wrinkles around Mr. Yang’s eyes deepen as he chuckles. “Goodness no, we’re a big organization. But myself and Ki-woo have been involved for a long time.” That makes sense. They seem to know what they’re doing if your boss, or anyone else for that matter, hasn’t caught on to them yet.

“It was just a pure coincidence that the case of Yoongi’s relative was picked along with the others – they were chosen long before Ki-woo even smelled him on your things. But seeing as you’re here, I’m guessing you have some information that might be valuable to the case?” Mr. Yang watches you carefully, his hands folded neatly in his lap.

You’ve already come to the conclusion that you can’t help Yoongi alone. You have no power, no connections – but it seems like Mr. Yang and Ki-woo’s organization certainty has those. It can’t hurt to try.

“The cat hybrid was Yoongi’s mom,” You pause, the next words balling up at the tip of your tongue. Saying it out loud would make it real, so don’t– “and my old neighbour.” Surprise flickers across Mr. Yang’s face, but it seems to pass just as quickly, his face schooled back into a gentle encouraging smile.

“Mr. Park sold him off when he was young, and he didn’t even know his mom had passed away until he saw the news report. I had no idea that the neighbour’s cat was actually a hybrid either, I never saw her shifted,” You slowly dig your hands into your thighs, welcoming the burn as you rush through your next word, “I was eight, I didn’t know any better – I just thought his cat had suddenly passed away. I-I helped him .. bury her.”

A sudden hush falls over the room after your confession, your eyes glued to the floor. Does this make you a murderer too? What if they don’t want to help Yoongi now? Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything–

“Y/n,” Mr. Yang’s voice is firm, and you feel yourself shrink automatically, your shoulders nearly touching your ears. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but it wasn’t your fault. Like you said, you were eight. You were a child; you didn’t know what was truly going on. You’re not to blame for anything.”

You let out a shuddering sigh, blinking furiously to remove the tears clouding your vision. You’re not sure you fully believe him, but it’s still comforting to hear. It gives you the chance to at least pretend Yoongi won’t loathe you completely once you tell him.

“I don’t really know if our connections to the case is any help but he’s – we’re desperate to do something. I want to help him, but there’s not much I can do on my own,” You confess.

“Based on what you just told me, I believe we might already have everything we need to make a strong case against Mr. Park,” Your eyes snap up to meet Mr. Yang’s, your hopeful heart almost skipping a beat.

“Really?” He nods.

“Of course, we would still need to gather more evidence – but if you can act as a witness and point out where it happened, that would help the case tremendously,” Mr. Yang says. “We also need to prove that Mr. Yang sold hybrids illegally, and so if Yoongi wants, then his testimony would also be a big help.”

“I’ll .. ask him,” You know Yoongi will do it, but that’s what worries you. If he chooses to testify in court, his old owner will be alerted about it. You have no doubt that he’ll show up to claim Yoongi back, and then he’ll have no choice but to leave. And if Yoongi has escaped once, then his old owner will probably make sure that won’t happen again. You swallow down the bile that’s building up in your throat. Even though the idea scares you to bits, it’s not your decision to make.

“Good,” Mr. Yang smiles. Your gaze flickers back to Ki-woo, the hybrid already frowning before you meet his gaze. Crap. He can probably smell how upset you are.

“What kind of hybrid are you?” You blurt out, desperate to shift his attention over to something else. “You don’t really have any obvious characteristics.”

“Oh um, that’s kind of the point, it makes it easier to blend in,” Ki-woo grimaces. “I’m a lizard hybrid.” That at least explains why he had what looked like scales on his neck, and why he was so cold, but .. “Your tail?” You trail off, gesturing to his very empty back.

“I s-shed it,” His words makes your eyes grow wide. He does what?

“It doesn’t hurt,” He quickly adds, “Well. Not that much at least. But it just makes it easier to pass as human. I suppose I’m luckier than most hybrids in that regard,” He shrugs, but you can tell from the heavy weight he seems to have on his shoulders that it affects him more than he likes to let on.

“Ki-woo’s a free hybrid,” Mr. Yang supplies, “It was a long and difficult process to make it happen, but that’s what our organization is here for.” An ownerless hybrid. It’s honestly a very recent concept; the first free hybrid won his rights less than a decade ago.

The process is tedious and expensive, and most owners aren’t willing to go through it. After all, that would make their hybrids seem human, which the vast majority still believes they aren’t. Pets, were the term you most often heard when owners talked about their hybrids. We got a new pet. But it’s all just an easy excuse to tell themselves so that their abuse doesn’t seem as horrible.

“That’s amazing,” You say. You can’t help but think about Yoongi. How badly he deserves to be his own person, and to not be constantly hunted by his own past. Seeing a hybrid in the flesh that is actually ownerless just makes it more real, more doable, and there’s suddenly nothing you would like more than to make it happen for him. You will make it happen.

Mr. Yang nods, a thoughtful smile on his face. “I think it’s time for you to go home, Y/n. I believe you have quite a few things you need to discuss.”

“I’ll do it,” Yoongi says, his sharp eyes leaving no room for argument. You had barely even managed to finish your explanation before he agreed to testify.

“Yoongi ..” You mumble, your fingers picking nervously at the hem of your shirt. “What if he shows up? I can’t stop him from taking you back.”

Yoongi open his mouth just to shut it again, the muscles in his jaw working as his gaze flickers around the living room. He finally sighs, his dark cat ears pressing flat against his head as he says, “Then let him take me.”

“What?” You stare at him in disbelief, your heartbeat stuttering painfully in your chest. “Do you really mean that?”

Yoongi swallows hard, the skin around his thumb picked raw. “Yeah. As long as I can lock that fucker away, I don’t care what happens to me.” You bite down hard on your lip to keep quiet. You want to protest – want to beg him to reconsider and stay here with you, where he’s safe. But you can tell his mind is already set, and you can’t let your own selfish needs come before Yoongi’s wishes. And even if you begged, you doubt he’ll want to stay with you for much longer anyway. Tell him, an insistent voice in the back of your mind whispers. Tell him.

So you do.

“There’s something else,” You wince, “something you need to know.” As if Yoongi can sense your hesitation, he reaches forward to grab your hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze.

“Take you time kitten.” Yoongi could’ve just as well punched you straight in the gut, the term of endearment making your eyes burn. I don’t deserve you.

“I didn’t realize until yesterday, I had no idea any of this was going on until we saw the news report but .. do you remember the cat I told you about? Fluffball, my neighbour’s old cat that you reminded me so much of?” Yoongi nods, his head tilted in confusion as you draw in a shaking breath.

“My old neighbour was Mr. Park,” Yoongi’s hand tightens painfully around yours, your fingers growing white from the pressure, “And Fluffball, the cat that suddenly got sick and passed away, was .. your mom.” Your voice is barely above a whispers as you get to the last word, but you have no doubt that Yoongi hears you clear as day, the stricken expression on his face telling you everything.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Yoongi snatches his hand away as if he’s been burned; the sudden rush of blood reaching your fingertips making your hand throb as you pull it back into your lap. “I never saw any other cats around his home, and there was never any others after we buried her.”

“We?” Yoongi’s tail shoots up behind his back, his narrowed gaze pinning you to the couch, “What do you mean, ‘we’?”

“Not like that!” You blurt, horrified at your own poor choice of words. “I didn’t know she was a hybrid, I just thought she was a cat! I adored her, and I guess Mr. Park knew I was too young to know that something was off, so he let me hold a funeral for her when she passed,” You can’t bear to lift your gaze from your lap, even as the silence beings to stretch on. You can’t stomach to see the hatred you’re sure is plastered all over Yoongi’s face. “I really didn’t know, I’m so sorry,” You whisper.

“Why are you telling me this?” Yoongi says, his voice strained.

“Because I’ll need to testify as a witness. And I thought you deserved to hear it first,” You shove your trembling hands between your crossed legs, holding on to the fabric of your jeans for dear life.

“I .. I need some time alone,” Yoongi’s voice is bordering on a hiss as he gets off the couch. You don’t dare to look up until you hear your bedroom door slam shut, the sound echoing inside your small apartment.

It’s been a week, and you can still count on two hands how many times you’ve seen him. Yoongi hardly spends time in the same room as you, and if he does, it’s mostly just to grumble out a flimsy excuse before he leaves. You didn’t even realize just how well Yoongi had ingrained himself into your life before he began to pull away, the empty spaces left behind now more prominent than ever. Eating alone feels like a chore, and not even the mindless TV chatter in the background can fill the silence Yoongi’s mellow voice used to occupy. You don’t think you’ve ever slept so poorly before either, the lack of extra warmth and strong arms around your waist leaves you tossing and turning in bed all night. What makes it all feel even worse is knowing that Yoongi is in the next room over, that he’s so close, but also so far away at the same time. Yoongi asked for time, and that’s what you’re giving him, but hurts.

It hurts that it feels like he’s slowly distancing himself from you more and more with each passing day, and it hurts to know that it’s all your own fault. That you maybe could’ve saved him some of his suffering if you had paid a little more attention when you were younger. You can’t help but wonder if he regrets spending his rut with you, if he regrets ever stepping foot inside your apartment. If he wants to leave. And even if the thought makes your chest tighten – can you really blame him?

No.

But at the same time, you can’t help but hope that he’ll stay. Even if it’s selfish.

“Still nothing?” Jihyo asks carefully, her warm eyes peeking at you over her computer screen. It had actually been Mr. Yang’s suggestion to involve Jihyo, and you couldn’t be more thankful for it. If you didn’t have Jihyo to talk to, you probably would’ve exploded by now. Not only that, but you felt it was right to include her, especially when it was one of her old cases were broadcasted alongside Mr. Park’s.

You shake your head, your gaze moving back to rest on the unfinished document in front of you. Work has been hard to focus on with everything going on, and after your talk with Mr. Yang, it has all started to feel a little hopeless. Apparently the hits have never been random – no, the organization Mr. Yang is apart of apparently only targets firm that have purposefully foiled certain cases for monetary gain.

In other words, your boss has been in cahoots with officials to make sure that the cases that would soil either their own or their acquaintances’ names would fail, and that the represented hybrid would lose. Jihyo’s case was about a high standing member of your city that abused his hybrid, and the case was bulletproof – a sure win. At least it had been, up until your boss had to give it the final approval before send off. You suppose it makes sense now why the hybrid lost the case, if you boss was paid to make it happen.

You sigh, running your hands down your face in frustration. You’ve already given your statement to the lawyer and the police officer in charge for Mr. Park’s case, and both you and Yoongi have been chosen to testify in court. It seems like Mr. Yang managed to pull some strings and make sure Yoongi’s owner won’t be alerted until the day of the trial, so the only thing you can do is hope he won’t have time to show up to claim him back. So right now, the only thing you can do is wait. Wait to see if Yoongi is ever going to speak to you again, and wait for the trial to begin. Thankfully you’ll only have to deal with all of this uncertainty for another week; both you and Yoongi’s testimonies made sure they would have enough evidence to bring the case to trial much quicker than normal.

Your boss’ raised voice shakes you out of your thoughts, and you sink down so low in your seat that your butt is nearly touching the floor he stalks past your cluster of desks. You wearily watch his back until he enters his office, only getting back up when the door clicks shut and you deem it safe enough that he won’t suddenly pop back out. Your boss has been on edge ever since the news about the cases broke, but you’re pretty certain he’s more nervous about his own illegal involvement rather than the company being under fire for getting its systems breached. Logically you know that there isn’t anything tying you to the hacked cases, and it’s not like you’re the one who did it either, but still – even just your talk with Mr. Yang and Ki-woo is enough to keep the anxiousness festering in your stomach alive.

You do have something to hide after all, and you’re sure your boss won’t take too kindly to the fact that you’re the reason an old case he made sure would fail is getting a re-trial. Therefore, you’ve decided to stay out of his sight as much as possible, even just as a precaution. You rest your chin in your palm, eyes moving back to your screen only to read the same sentence over and over again. You have a feeling it’s going to be a long week.

You thrum your fingers nervously along the edge of your chair, praying that the small breakfast you had managed to force down earlier in the morning won’t make a surprise visit. You can feel someone glaring at the back of your head, obviously annoyed at the rhythmic tapping you’re making, but you can’t stop. At least if you’re moving them you can’t feel how badly they’re shaking.

You scramble to your feet as the judge enters the room, the sound getting sucked out of the room as he takes his place in front of the rest of the court. As the judge motions for everyone to take their places, you can’t help how your eyes stray to the opposite side of the room as you take your seat. The attorney’s assistant is whispering something under her breath, one of Yoongi’s ears turned in her direction while his gaze is fixed on the judge. His tail is curled around his waist, Yoongi’s pale hands running soothingly over his own dark fur.

You didn’t even get to wish him luck this morning; you had only managed to catch a glimpse of the door swinging closed behind him as Mr. Yang picked him up. Your co-worker had insisted on bringing him earlier to the courthouse to go through some of the details of the case, and you weren’t needed until the trial began. You allow yourself to look at Yoongi for another second, soaking in as much of his appearance as possible. This is the longest you’ve been able to look at him in the last two weeks. You swallow thickly as the judge clears his throat, the hollow ache in your chest leaving you feeling numb as you turn your attention to the officials in front of the room.

"We are here for the case of Mr. Park Geunho who is accused of the murder of his female cat hybrid Yoonsook, as well as illegal hybrid breeding and trading,” The judge motions for the guard to open a nearby door. The first thing that hits you is how much your neighbour has aged since you last saw him.

Your family moved away from your old neighbourhood a few years after what happened to Yoongi’s mom, and you haven’t seen him in the flesh since then. Despite his haggard appearance, there’s still that same animosity burning in his eyes as they swipe across the room. You see how his gaze lingers on Yoongi, a flicker of recognition passing over his face before he moves on. I often heard that I looked like my mom, Yoongi’s voice whispers in the back of your mind. Mr. Park’s eyes don’t seem to notice you however, but then, why would he? You were eight then, and a grown woman now. And you’re honestly thankful he doesn’t. Even just another ten minutes without those harsh eyes staring at you is more than fine.

The case passes by in a blur. Even though you’re sure you’re going to faint when you’re asked to give your testimony, you manage to get through it without too much stuttering. You don’t dare to turn to look at Mr. Park as you stand in front of the court, your eyes locked firmly on to the judge as you answer any questions thrown your way. But, you don’t need to look to feel the contempt radiating off him from across the room.

“Well done,” Mr. Yang mutters under his breath once you’re done, your co-worker having found a free seat next to yours. He wasn’t present at the beginning of the trial, but you suppose he must’ve been busy with something important. You give him a faint smile in return, your hands clasped firmly in your lap. You hoped that some of your nervousness would disappear once you were done, but as your heartbeat starts hammering away in your chest as Yoongi stands, you realize that maybe it weren’t yourself you were worried about.

Yoongi carries himself so confidently up to the stand that you almost would’ve believed that he wasn’t nervous if you didn’t know him any better. But you do. So, you notice how his ears seem to twitch around more than normal – how his fingers are digging into the wooden table in front of him. You see the back of Yoongi’s head turn slightly in Mr. Park’s direction, and you’re sure their eyes must have met by how Yoongi’s hands suddenly grow white and strained. He seems to be doing his best to keep his tail under control, you’re sure it would normally be trashing wildly by now. But instead, the tip of his tail only does a few agitated flicks before he turns his attention back to the officials in front of him.

Yoongi does really well. Not that you ever expected anything less, but it still amazes you how collected and calm he sounds when you know he must be dying to tear into Mr. Park. Yoongi tells the court about what he can remember of short time at Mr. Park’s, and how he was forcibly separated from his mom to leave with an unknown man. There are some details he’s never told you about before, and you can feel your anger steadily rising as he recounts them. It’s hard to gauge which party the court may be leaning in favour for, their blank expressions not really saying much, but you swear you see a flash of irritation crossing the judge’s face as Mr. Park’s lawyer tries to rebut something Yoongi says.

You let out a small sigh of relief as Yoongi is told to return to his seat – happy that he hopefully won’t have to face Mr. Park for much longer. Mr. Park’s face grows more and more aggravated as the trial goes on, obviously not pleased with the direction it seems to be going in. It feels like you’ve been stuck in the courtroom for days when the judge finally clears his throat, “The court will take a moment to discuss the final verdict, you may stay seated until we return shortly.”

You don’t dare to even move a muscle, too scared that even the tiniest movement will somehow affect the outcome of the trial. You hold your breath as the court finally returns, eyes glued to the judge as he takes his seat.

“Based on the overwhelming amount of evidence that has been presented to us here today, there is no doubt that the accused is–“ The judge moves his gaze to Mr. Park, “–guilty. Mr. Park Geunho, you are hereby sentenced to life in prison for the murder of the cat hybrid Yoonsook. In addition, you will be fined a hundred thousand dollars for illegal hybrid breeding and trading–“ The judge’s voice cuts off as the door to the court room slams open.

“Wait!” A hoarse voice calls out. You whip around in your seat to find an older man stomping through the room, his gaze seemingly locked onto .. Yoongi. Your stomach drops at the same time Yoongi seems to realize what’s going on, his panicked eyes finding yours. His owner.

You’re already half-way out of your seat when Mr. Yang grabs your arm, the sudden resistance making you stumble back into the chair.

“Not yet,” He shakes his head at your confused look, grip tightening to make sure you won’t move.

Yoongi’s owner stops near the front of the room, directly in front of the judge. He has a nasty scowl on his face as he gestures over to Yoongi, his fingers shaking, “Whatever he just told you is invalid! He’s my hybrid, and he can’t speak without his legal guardian by his side.” The man seethes.

“That little fucker ran away, I’ve been trying to track him down for months! If anything you should be punishing him for disobeying his owner.” No, no, no. Your hands are clammy with sweat, torn between staying put like Mr. Yang told you to, and the need to get up to knock Yoongi’s owner flat on his ass for daring to speak about Yoongi like that.

“Silence,” The judge’s voice cuts through the room, the expression on his face unfazed. Oh god, does this mean this happens a lot? Can he claim him back and turn his testimony invalid just like that? Your work ends when you hand in your files, so you have no idea about what actually happens when the cases go to trial. You’re regretting that a lot right now.

“You’re Mr. Min’s owner?” The man nods, still with a nasty curl on his lips. “So I take it you bought him from Mr. Park Geunho?” The judge asks.

The man puffs his chest out, as if it question is something to be proud of. “Sure did! So if you don’t mind, I’ll take my hybrid now and–“ The man takes a few steps towards Yoongi, the cat hybrid pressing himself back against his chair with a loud hiss as the outstretched hand in front of him comes closer.

“But I do mind.”

“What?” Yoongi’s owner spins back around, a dumbfounded expression on his face. “But he’s mine?”

“Not anymore, he isn’t,” The judge gestures for one of the guards to bring Yoongi’s owner the sheet of paper he had been looking at earlier, “As I was saying earlier, Mr. Park, you are not only found guilty of murder, but you will also be fined a hundred thousand dollars for illegal hybrid breeding and trading. This means that you will provide a list over all the hybrids you have sold, so that their ownerships can be nullified.”

“Once the ownerships are lifted, the buyers will be investigated for partaking in illegal activities.”

You turn to Mr. Yang with wide eyes, the older man releasing your arm with a kind pat. “Told you to wait,” He gives you a smug smile.

Yoongi’s owner takes an unsure step backwards, the scowl slipping on his face. “And that list seems to include you. Actually since you’re already here, you might as well sign those papers. I’ll make sure we’ll get it processed right away,” The judge motions for the guard to grab Yoongi’s owner, the man sputtering out excuses as he’s dragged into an adjacent room.

“Well then, I suppose there’s nothing more to say. Court dismissed.” The judge rises to his feet to leave the room, but pauses as his eyes find Yoongi, a brief smile grazing his lips, “Oh right! Mr. Min, if you would so kindly spare me a few minutes to meet in the next room over, we’ll discuss the nullification of your ownership –”

“With immediate effect, of course.”

- - - - Oh no .. Yoongi is now ownerless .. Whatever will y/n do ..

(Also I promise the angst will stop in the next chapter. Probably) And I know courts and trials don't work like this but it's fiction baby!! Also; Mr. Yang and Ki-woo best boys who only wants to help, and a few of you actually guessed what Ki-woo was very early haha! As always, i hope you’re all well and my inbox is always open if you want to chat about the story or just fics or life in general! See you all soon! In case you maybe enjoy my stories and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖

#hybrid!bts #hybrid bts #cat hybrid yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #hybrid au #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fluff

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collecting-stories · 3 years

Text

Cardigan - Rafe Cameron

Request: heyy for the ts anthology, can u do one for cardigan with rafe? love ur writing🤍

TS Anthology Series | Outer Banks Masterlist

_ . ◦ ⭐︎:*.☾.*:⭐︎◦∙._

The summer you turned thirteen was the same summer your dad showed up again. Driving the same lemon of a car that he’d pulled out of the driveway in when you were six, he looked like he hadn’t aged. Or maybe you just didn’t remember him all that well because his face felt the same but you were different. When you missed your best friend’s birthday, a trip to the gymnastics gym on the mainland and a towering cake with fondant replicas of all her favorite things, she was rightly pissed.

Thirteen felt monumental, like the movie the two of you had snuck onto your mom’s Verizon bill, and you had both made a pact that you would be there for each other no matter what. That promise included birthdays and, more seriously, dads who showed up after seven years of radio silence because they didn’t want to “miss anything else”. But you didn’t mention your dad because hers was so great and you felt a little like you were floating on an island and no one could understand you enough to reach it. But then you missed her birthday and she swore not to speak to you and that felt more crushing than the dad thing until her brother stepped in. Always the one playing referee in when you fought, Rafe was a few years older and, in your mind, a lot smarter.

It felt pretty important that an older boy would make the time to talk to you, especially when he had to know that his sister was avoiding you at all costs. He’d just gotten his permit and, like any good brother, showed up in the car he wasn’t supposed to drive with a minor in the passenger seat, to take you around the island for the afternoon.

“My mom said she thinks we’re gonna move.” You mentioned, less casually than you would’ve hoped. The windows in the truck were rolled down and you had your legs up, feet placed precariously on the window ledge. There was a particularly nasty bruise on your knee from falling off your skateboard three days ago and a few short hairs you’d missed shaving. You were relatively new to both shaving and skateboarding so there were bound to be mistakes, you just wished they were less visible.

“Off the island?” Rafe asked, concern etched into his tone. You assumed the concern was for his sister, what would Sarah do if you moved? Who would put up with all her antics?

You shook your head, “to the cut.”

“Why?”

“She can’t afford the house on her own anymore and my dad has been lousy with child support.” You repeated back all the things she had said to you. Why she didn’t take him to court like the other kid in your grade with divorced parents was beyond you. Rose told her that it was the only way to ensure he paid what he was supposed to but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to hold him accountable.

Can’t believe you’re gonna be a pogue.” He said it like it meant something worse than you moving to the mainland.

“It’s not forever. My grandma’s house is there, we’re gonna stay with her until we can get back up on our feet.” You shrugged, “at least my dad’ll stay away then.”

But you dad wasn’t the only one who kept their distance. It felt like the distinction over your mother’s life choices held a greater impact on your friends than they had let on. A year into pogue life and Rafe seemed to disappear almost completely. It had always been an odd kind of friendship in the first place but you’d thought that it could’ve withstood a change in address.

Sarah kept in touch, unbothered by labels or mailing addresses. She’d been to your grandma’s a hundred times before you moved and she continued to go there to see you after. The two of you played in the backyard, doing tricks on the trampoline until gossiping about kids at school became more important than cartwheels. You’d lay there whispering as if someone might overhear, telling each other stories from the week that you were separated. Rafe always came to pick her up, staying in the car and honking the horn for her but never coming over to see you.

It felt a little lonely even though you technically retained most of your friends.

In tenth grade you got the role of Eponine in the teen camp production of Les Miserables that the local theatre was putting on. You were technically sharing the role with another girl your age but you couldn’t help being excited nonetheless. The boy playing Marius was in two of your classes, a senior who had lofty city dreams and a nice smile. He flirted almost constantly with you, brushing your hair back, telling you how pretty you were, inviting you out after practice. You told Sarah you were “pretty sure” you were on your way to having your first real boyfriend.

But maybe the ominous casting of Eponine over your life should’ve been hint enough that things weren’t destined to work out that way. The boy who played Marius had an actual girlfriend, home from vacationing with her family in time to watch her boyfriend on stage, and you were supposed to accept that he was just “connecting to the character” when he was with you. Either way, your On My Own struck a different chord in you and after the show was over you didn’t join the other cast members in the lobby to greet people.

“So when you get to New York...do I get to leak all those videos of you and Sarah doing your Genie in a Bottle routine?” Rafe asked, pulling a chair next to you at the makeup table. Yours was halfway off but you’d stopped scrubbing at your face to stare at yourself in the mirror. Self-pity was a powerful procrastinator.

“You’re supposed to be in the lobby.” You pointed out, ignoring his comment, “I look like a ghost raccoon that just climbed out of a dumpster.

“Now there’s an analogy.” He laughed and picked up the cotton pads you had sitting on the counter, soaking one in micellar water and turning your head to face him.

You bit your bottom lip as you tried to keep your composure. It’d been a while since you and Rafe had been alone and last time he was just your best friend’s cute older brother. Too old for you and way out of your league but you were fifteen now and seventeen didn’t feel so far away.

But Sarah was your best friend and she would be mortified if she found out that you had even entertained the idea of her brother, let alone had serious thoughts about it.

“I’m sorry,” you said as he swiped the cotton pad over your cheek.

“What for?”

“I know we’re all supposed to go out tonight for dinner but I kinda just wanna go home.” You replied.

“Sarah might’ve let it slip about-”

You groaned, “don’t even say his name.” You weren’t sure if it was embarrassment at having let yourself totally believe he liked you but hearing Rafe bring it up made you feel even worse.

“Hey, you’re so much better than that loser,” He insisted, “I’ll beat the crap outta him though, just say the word.”

It was that same year, just as school was ending, that you turned sixteen. A short stay in the cut at your grandma’s house had helped your mom get back on her feet. A new job, better than the one that let her go, afforded a moderately sized house back on Figure Eight and a birthday with all the friends that had left the two of you behind.

Sixteen felt a little more important than thirteen had, especially because, for two whole weeks, time suspended and you were technically only a year younger than Rafe. You still hadn’t told Sarah that you liked her brother, though she did seem a little suspicious when the crush on your co-star dissipated almost overnight. The boys of the past had no hold over your growing infatuation with Rafe. Maybe it was foolish but you couldn’t help thinking that maybe it wasn’t.

Especially not when he showed up at your house the same way he had when you were thirteen, though this time he had his actual license and not just a permit. He told you it was birthday drive around the island, that he was in charge of stalling you while Sarah set up a surprise party at your house.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to tell me that it’s a surprise.” You teased, sipping at the iced coffee that Rafe had brought you when he picked you up. You swished the ice around once before sipping again.

“It’s a party either way.” Rafe replied, shrugging his shoulder.

“So, we’re just driving around until she texts you?” You asked. Rafe turned into the Island Club, circling the parking lot once and then turning back around.

“I’m yours until Sarah says otherwise.” He said, the words erupting butterflies in your stomach. You could practically feel yourself heat up thinking about what those words could mean if he wasn’t just your best friend’s brother.

“Well...then do you wanna go to the beach?” You suggested, “Jaxon showed me this really cool spot on the south side that’s practically hidden.”

“Jaxon?” Rafe sounded judgmental when he said the other boy’s name, whether he meant to or not.

“Yea, we’ve been on a couple dates. You know him, he took me to prom,” you supplied, thinking of the way Rafe had sulked on the staircase while you and Sarah had gotten your pictures taken on the front lawn of Tanney Hill. The last picture in the bunch, despite his sulkiness, was of you and Rafe. You’d asked and he had obliged, coming down onto the porch to take a picture with you before everyone left for the dance.

It was your favorite picture, even more than the countless ones of you and Sarah or the few of you and Jaxon. He was just a place holder anyway, someone to take your mind off the thing you couldn’t have. Not that it was working, especially when you were driving around with Rafe at the moment.

“I remember him.” Rafe replied, “so this special part of the beach?”

“It’s so pretty.” You confirmed, “Sarah and I went there a couple weeks ago but she only ever wants to sunbathe.”

“Don’t say it like you’re surprised.” He said, pulling his car off to the side of the road when you told him to.

You were out of the car first, letting the door fall shut behind you as you headed up the wooden ramp to the beach. The drop off at the top was a little steeper here than anywhere else, the beach mostly desolate. You stopped at the top of the walkway, turning back to wait for Rafe. He was standing at the bottom of the ramp staring up at you.

“Are you coming up or what?” You called.

“Yeah,” he nodded, walking up the path to you.

“I know Sarah’s planning a big birthday for me, but I’d much rather have this...” you admitted, “just like, coming out to the beach with you...”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, grinning down at you.

“Don’t tell Sarah,” you joked, “she’ll be mad-”

“Why, cause I’m your favorite Cameron?”

Maybe it was being sixteen or maybe it was that you were feeling particularly bold, out here on the beach with just Rafe, no threat of prying eyes to interrupt you. Either way, you had been thinking about telling him for a while now and it felt like the time...even if getting rejected ran the risk of ruining your birthday.

“I know I’m just Sarah’s best friend but...I really like you Rafe.” You said, “and I know it’s like a million to one that you like me back but I just felt like I would explode if I didn’t tell you.” You waited a beat for him to say something and when he didn’t you kept talking, “Sorry, I know this is so weird-”

“It’s not weird.” Rafe cut you off, “I’m just shocked that you seriously think I only see you as Sarah’s best friend.” His tone was teasing as he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear and cupped your cheek. “You’re so much more than that.”

It was Sarah who told you, days before your eighteenth birthday. She’d seen Rafe with someone else when her family took a weekend trip out to Chapel Hill to see a game. There was a girl there, hanging all over her brother. He swore she was just a friend, told Sarah not to tell you, but Sarah wasn’t dumb and she wouldn’t help her brother cover up an indiscretion. So she told you flat out that her brother was cheating on you.

When Sarah first found out that you and Rafe were dating, she had been as mad as her thirteenth birthday. How could you go behind her back and date her brother? The anger dissipated slowly, over the course of the summer it became clear that were not going to leave her in the dust for Rafe. She wasn’t wholly supportive of the relationship but she was supportive of you and if Rafe was who you wanted to be with than she’d be happy for you.

But if she had to choose, it would always be you over Rafe.

“I didn’t want to tell you, I really thought about not saying anything but...you deserve to know.” It was the justification she used as your face fell, all the giddiness from planning your eighteenth birthday fading in the blink of an eye.

“He cheated?” And it felt like a punch to the gut. “Are you sure?”

“He said she was just a friend but...I don’t hang on my friends like that.” Sarah remarked.

You fiddled with the phone in your lap, Sarah’s comments turning over in your head. You could refute them, tell her that you’d just talked to him the night before and he told you how excited he was to see you, how much he loved you. He’d used the word love...that had to mean something right? You could call him, ask him straight away if he was actually cheating, but you suspected that he would only lie to you. And if he wasn’t cheating, if he did tell the truth, would you believe him? Sarah was your best friend and once she had planted the seeds of doubt in you, they seemed to flourish there.

You didn’t say anything else about it to Sarah that night and when Rafe called to talk, like he always did, you pretended that everything was fine. But that could only last for so long. A week before your party, on the same special part of the beach that Rafe had first kissed you, things ended. Rafe had sworn to Sarah that the girl at school was just a friend but he couldn’t lie to you, and he didn’t try to either.

“It was a mistake,” he insisted, as if it was the type of thing you could brush off.

“But you still made it.” You replied.

“I didn’t mean to.” Rafe didn’t have any good reasons for why he had cheated on, only that he had and that, since you now knew, he was apologetic. “I don’t even talk to that girl anymore. She meant nothing to me.”

“Obviously she meant more than we did.”

Rafe had been it for you for a long time. He seemed so out of your league and you had thought a million times that you would’ve done anything for him. He was the ideal for everything that you wanted and for a while, when you had it, had him, it had felt like a dream. But now you were waking up to reality and it wasn’t a sunset on the beach.

“I love you.” He said it like it was something you were neglecting to remember.

“Not enough.”

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hawksward · 3 years

Text

Find Me Where the Wisteria Blooms (Giyuu x Reader x Sabito)

Summary: You were only a child when the demons took everything from you. But in the years you were on the mountain you found friendship.

Only to have it all ripped away again.

Pairing: Sabito/Reader/Giyuu

Rating: PG-13 (specifically for violence)

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Violence, Character Death, Angst

A/N: Watch me rip out my own heart and stomp on it in 4000 words. Characters have been aged up from 13-15 at the time of final selection (because let's be real why was Urokodaki sending 13-year-olds in the first place.)

Thirteen

“Last again.” The boy with the peach-colored hair taunted, “Guess you don’t have what it takes.”

You would have thrown a rock at his head if you weren’t hunched over with your hands on your knees, struggling to catch your breath.

“Shut up, Sabito.” You heaved “You won’t sound so high and mighty when I’m a hashira.”

Three months had passed since your arrival on the mountain. The morning hikes up the mountain only to race back down again started off like torture considering your background. You had a normal childhood. One cut tragically short after your village was slaughtered by a demon. The screams were still audible every time you closed your eyes to sleep. The sound of the footsteps above the loose floorboard where you hid plagued your dreams.

The sun was high in the sky the next day when Urokodaki came to check for survivors. It was almost ironic to think that you went your whole life not knowing monsters were real, only to find there was a man training students to fight them on a nearby mountain. He pulled you out of the hole in the floor and carried you up the mountain. He let you stay with him weeks before you decided to start training.

You were already a couple of months behind the two boys your age who trained on the mountain. Giyuu and Sabito. Giyuu did everything he could to help you catch up with your swordsmanship. Sabito, however, just continued to tell you about how you weren’t man enough to become a demon slayer.

You never were quite sure if he meant your spirit or your lack of biological parts.

“Leave her alone” Giyuu protested “She was definitely faster that time.”

Were you actually? Who knows. If the mountain exercises were hard, the sword training was harder. Your new skills were nothing compared to either boy. Sabito had already grasped the first two forms of water breathing and Giyuu has mastered the first. Meanwhile, you were lucky to land a strike on either. You ended each day rubbing salve on new welts.

“You are getting better.” Giyuu joined you that evening while you sat outside, rubbing your tired muscles in preparation to do it all again tomorrow “Sabito just doesn’t know how to act around girls.”

“Whatever.” You frowned, “If he tells me I’m not man enough again, I’ll make sure he never will be either.”

A quick, hard sword swing between the legs would take care of that.

Giyuu laughed, “You would have gotten along really well with my sister. She didn’t let anyone walk all over her either.”

“What happened to her?” You asked, already prepared for the answer. No one came to train with Urokodaki because they had a happy home life.

“She sacrificed herself to save me.” He looked down at the ground “She was supposed to be married the next day.”

“Giyuu…” You paused before looking up at him, sliding your hand over his “I’m sure she’d be proud to see you now.”

He looked over at you, his eyes haunted. “I wish it were me instead.”

You pulled your hand away almost as quickly as you placed it there, turning your head to stare back at the night sky “Me too.”

Fourteen

A year passed since you first arrived on the mountain. Tasks that once seemed impossible, you could now do without a second thought. You were faster, stronger. But most importantly, you were a winner.

“Look who doesn’t have what it takes now.” You said, a smug grin plastered on your face. You sat casually on a nearby log when Sabito made it down the mountain. You barely managed to catch your breath as you only made it down a couple of minutes prior. He didn’t need to know that though.

“I bet you still can’t beat me in a fight.” He barely needed a moment to catch his breath while Giyuu appeared.

“Challenge accepted.” You rose from the log to meet him head-on. The fact that he and Giyuu were already so tall was unfair. “I’ll see you at sword training.”

It sounded more dramatic when you said it. After a lunch filled with an intense staring match and Giyuu trying to fill the awkward silence, you found yourself standing in the part of the mountain where you practiced sword drills. The wooden katana felt familiar in your hand. 200 sword swings before you were even able to start practice would do that.

You ignored the fatigue in your arms as you took your stance. Sabito took his position opposite you, Giyuu and Urokodaki standing a safe distance away to observe.

Urokodaki gave the signal to begin and Sabito rushed you immediately. You quick side-stepped to miss the first blow, blocking the second with your sword. It wasn’t a secret that he was physically stronger than you, but you had the advantage of speed now. In the months since your arrival on the mountain, your breathing techniques had improved tremendously. You had the stamina and speed advantage and could wait until he tired himself out. He knew he needed to end the fight quickly.

You backed away while he brought himself back into his stance, widening the gap between you. You rushed him to close the distance, lifting your sword over your head as if you would bring it down on him. Just before your katana would fall on his, you dropped into a slide. Your hands changed grip on the katana, angling it so it caught his ankles as your momentum kept you sliding.

The force of your entire body weight ripped him off his feet and onto his back. You quickly pushed yourself off the ground stood over him, your sword pressing lightly against his neck.

“I win. You have no head.” You suppressed the stupid grin that was threatening to cover your face. The look of shock in his eyes was rewarding enough.

“That trick was dirty.” He complained, staring up at you from the ground. “In a fair fight you would have lost.”

“Demons don’t fight fair.” You said, extending your hand out to him “Why should I?”

“She’s right. There is no such thing as a fair fight with a demon. You need to use every trick you have against them.” Urokodaki gave you a small nod before returning his attention to Sabito.

Sabito reluctantly grabbed your hand, using you as leverage to pull himself off the ground. It was clear that although he accepted your mentor’s judgment that you won the fight, he wasn’t happy about it. He looked down at you for a moment before quickly averting his gaze, his face flushed from what you assumed to be exertion.

“Fine. You won.” He grumbled “But you won’t be able to use the same trick twice. I want a rematch tomorrow.”

“You’re on.” You flashed a large smile, letting go of his hand. “I’m still going to win though.”

“Focus on the present.” Urokodaki scolded, nudging Giyuu to step into the circle “If you don’t keep your focus to the opponent in front of you, you’ll lose.”

“Right.” You nodded, turning to face Giyuu. You assumed your stance while he readied himself, the two of you waiting for the signal to begin.

“Sorry to interrupt your winning streak,” Giyuu said as you waited, “But I don’t intend to lose.”

Both of you leaped into action at the signal, rushing toward each other as your katanas met with a harsh clack.

You lost that fight, but in the end, it didn’t matter. You finally felt like their equal.

Fifteen

Spring came again to the mountain as the weeks counted down until final selection. You trained with Urokodaki for almost two years. You mastered water breathing. You could cut a boulder in half with a thin blade.

You weren’t the scared little girl under the floorboards anymore.

You sat in the forest, using one of the knives you found in the house to carve your initials into the tree. Along with Giyuu and Sabato’s. Something to commemorate your graduation into demon slayers. They had become your best friends. The thought of being apart after final selection was almost painful.

“Urokodaki is going to make you run laps around the mountain until next year if he finds out you’re using the kitchen knife for that.”

You looked up to see Sabito standing behind you, Giyuu laughing beside him.

“Well then don’t tell him” you grumbled, returning to your work “It's not like I can use my sword for this.”

The two boys watched you continue your work, laughing at your uneven lines as you tried to carve Urokodaki’s tengu mask. He gave the three of you hand-carved fox masks for the trial. Each one was designed differently based on personality. Your mask had the left eye covered by wisteria, your favorite flower. Something you were sure you only mentioned to the man once or twice.

By the time you finished, it was already time for dinner. In the last week prior to the trial, Urokodaki had given the three of you the week off from training as both a reward and for time to mentally prepare. Without a clear schedule, you could barely keep track of the time.

You hid the knife in your sleeve as you stood up, you would return it to the drawer when Urokodaki wasn’t paying attention. “When we all become hashira you both better promise to come visit my mansion.”

“There can’t be three water hashira.” Giyuu said, leading the group “Especially when there’s only nine of them in total.”

You stuck your tongue out at the back of his head, causing Sabito to laugh. Giyuu turned around, confused, to see both of you just smiling back.

“Says you. When we finish the trial they’ll be begging to have three water hashira.” You joked. You laughed the rest of the way home, but before you could enter the house you were pulled to the side, out of sight.

You looked up at Sabito, who still had his hand on your arm. “What are you doing?” You whispered harshly, not bothering to pull away.

“When Urokodaki goes to sleep, will you meet me out by the lake?” He asked, staring intensely into your eyes.

“Why, what are we doing?” You smiled, interested at the prospect of doing something Urokodaki wouldn’t approve of “I can pull Giyuu aside when he’s not paying attention…”

“No.” He interrupted, looking away for a brief moment before bringing his attention back to you “Just you. Please say you’ll come.”

You felt the heat rise to your face immediately. The three of you did everything together, not inviting Giyuu was unheard of. “Y-yeah. Of course, I’ll be there.”

————————

You left ample time in between when you heard Sabito leave and when you made your exit. You tiptoed into the night air as quietly as you could manage. The feeling of guilt squeezing your heart for a quick moment as you passed by Giyuu’s sleeping form.

The air was crisp, the sound of crickets chirping filling the air. You grabbed your sword from its spot near the door, you could never be too careful when out at night. The lake wasn’t a far walk from the house, a bit further up the mountain and through a thick of trees.

You found Sabito sitting on a downed tree, watching the moon reflect off the water. You took a seat next to him, watching the water as well. You weren’t sure if you should speak up. You weren’t really sure why he asked you out here without Giyuu either.

“I’m glad you came.” He said, still looking at the water.

“Are you going to tell me why you asked me out here and not Giyuu?” You looked up at him, waiting for him to respond. Or at least look at you.

“I’m sorry for how I treated you when you showed up to the mountain. It was just me and Giyuu for a while and I didn’t want it to change.” He continued to stare out, nervously shifting his weight beneath him. “I just needed to tell you before final selection. In case anything happens.”

“Nothings going to happen” You reassured him “We’re all going to make it off that mountain.”

He turned to face you this time, a serious expression on his face. “We don’t know what kind of demons will be there. I won’t let anything happen to you or Giyuu.”

You studied his face, confused as to where this was all coming from. It went without saying you would all look out for each other during the trial. You would make sure nothing happened to him and Giyuu as well. “We’re friends, Sabito. Giyuu and I are going to look out for you as well.”

“I don’t want to be your friend.” Your look of shock took him by surprise, causing him to rub his temples in frustration “That’s not what I mean.”

You waited as he collected his thoughts, still troubled by him not wanting to be your friend. You knew that your relationship started off rocky, but you thought you were close now.

“I think I love you.” He blurted out, forcing himself to get over the fear of your reaction “I can’t shake the feeling that I want to be around you all the time. Without Giyuu. I hate myself for thinking that your safety is more important than anyone else. You’re one of the strongest people I know...but...I understand if you think I’m not worthy of you.” His fingers went up to touch the scar that trailed from his mouth to his ear.

You grabbed his hand away from his scar, holding it in both of your own. “I would never think that.” Time seemed to stop as you stared into his eyes. Ever since your arrival, he had drawn your eye but considering your relationship you never thought about being anything more than just a friend. You cared for him with all of your heart. You would prioritize his safety over your own. Maybe that was love the whole time?

“In a couple years, when we’re older, I’m going to ask you to marry me. I hope you’ll have an answer by then.”

The heat immediately rushed back to your cheeks, your hand letting go of his to cover your mouth. You were positive that in your shock you looked like a gasping fish.

“When we become hashira.” You began, lowering your hand “I expect you to propose again. So I can say yes.”

The world disappeared when he leaned in and placed his lips softly against yours. The two of you were so absorbed in the moment that neither noticed a presence lurking behind a tree a few yards away. Giyuu heard you get up in the middle of the night only to find Sabito gone as well. Naturally, he grabbed his sword and followed your tracks to see what you were up to without him.

Giyuu left as you both pulled away, he’d heard the whole conversation and knew better than to interrupt now.

——————-

By the second day of final selection, the three of you must have cleared out nearly ⅔ of the demons on the mountain. Each of you equipped with a thin nichirin sword and a mask handcrafted by Urokodaki for protection. Almost all the participants chose to stay together and things were going well. Well enough that for a moment you thought you would all make it off the mountain.

The smell came first. Demons always had a rotting scent to them but this was extreme. Like you were choking on the air. You barely had a chance to react when a group of arms reached out of the darkness. You leaped out of the way, rolling to a stop. Looking up, you saw Sabito using water wheel to cut the limbs from where they grabbed the bodies of the other recruits.

“Giyuu!” You shouted, rushing over to where he was slumped against a tree. He lifted his head up to reveal blood rushing down his face from a head wound, his mask broken on the ground. His eyes were unfocused, but the damage didn’t look extreme. He most likely had a concussion.

“Go, run!” You looked over to see Sabito directing the others, keeping the arms at bay while the smell grew more pungent. “Take the wounded and get out.”

He disappeared into the darkness of the trees, along with the arms.

“You!” You grabbed one of the recruits “Take him with you, please.”

“No.” Giyuu grabbed your arm, bringing your attention to him “I can still fight.”

“You’re not fit to fight anything right now.” You untied the strings of your mask and removed it from your head, placing it into his hands “This will keep you safe. I’m going to expect it back when I find you.”

You gave him a smile while he tried to weakly fight his way out of the grip of the two recruits carrying him off. You turned around and rushed into the dark, trying to keep up concentration breathing despite the overpowering stench.

It didn’t take long to find the source. A horrible, deformed demon covered in arms. It noticed you immediately, keeping its eyes on you while still easily keeping Sabito busy with a flurry of attacks.

“What are you doing here?” Sabito shouted at you, deflecting another arm “Go find the others, I can handle this.”

“I won’t just leave you here.”

“Another meal I don’t have to hunt for, it’s my lucky day!” The demon spoke, hiding its mouth behind a number of hands “Is she one of Urokodakis as well? I don’t see a mask but I suppose if I’m going to eat you anyway it doesn’t matter.”

You drew your sword, slicing one of its hands from its wrist as it surged toward you. You sliced limb after limb as it regenerated, desperately trying to create an opening for Sabito to strike its neck.

“Third form: Flowing Dance!” You steadied your breathing and summoned a torrent of water from your sword, twisting and turning to slice all of the limbs in your path. The quick strikes created an opening for Sabito to leap up, drawing his sword and quickly using all his strength to slice the monster’s neck.

The sound of a loud snap filled the air.

You looked up to see Sabito’s sword snap in two, the monster's neck still intact.

Everything else happened so fast.

You stepped forward to rush the demon, your eyes closing momentarily to blink. Something warm sprayed your face, reminding you of summer rain. When you opened your eyes you saw the demon had regenerated an arm and grabbed Sabito by the head. His body dangling below it.

Unmoving.

Your knees gave out below you as the demon dropped his headless corpse to the ground. Your hand reached up to touch your face, pulling away with a smear of blood covering your palm. Your first thought was that this had to be a nightmare. That you were laying on your futon, sound asleep, restless from the stress of the impending trial.

You don’t know how long you stared. You should have run. If Sabito couldn’t beat it how could you hope to?

“Now that he’s dealt with, I think I’ll eat you first. You’ll taste even better covered in the blood of your friend.” the demon laughed, finally snapping you out of your stupor. You used your sword to push yourself off of your knees, using your sleeve to wipe some of the blood from your face. To wipe him off your face.

“I’m going to send you to hell.” You moved with speed you didn’t know you were capable of, deftly avoiding and deflecting the arms moving toward you. You were possessed by rage. You struggled to keep your breathing in check and you knew you were being reckless. But you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

You continued to cut through limbs as fast as they could regrow but eventually, your luck ran out. One of the demon’s arms erupted from the ground, sending you flying into the air only to have the wind knocked out of you when you reached the ground.

You lay splayed on the ground, trying to will your body to move as tears streamed down your face. Everything felt numb, your fingertips refusing to move as you tried with all your might to grab your sword. The demon grabbed your neck, lifting you off the ground until you were at eye level.

“You get to be number fourteen,” he said as he stared at you, his grip tightening around your throat “After that Ill eat your friend and will have digested fifteen of Urokodaki’s students.”

The voice sounded further and further away as your air source dwindled. You glanced over to Sabito’s body on the ground as black spots began to fill your vision. You couldn’t save him. Neither of you would fulfill your promise to the other. You thought of Giyuu, hopefully on the other side of the mountain with the others now. Somewhere far away. Where the hand demon wouldn’t find them in time. In your final moments, you prayed, to anything that would listen, that Giyuu would make it back home.

It was the last thing you did before everything went dark.

Twenty-Five

Years passed since Muzan Kibutsuji was defeated. All of the demons who preyed on humans were eradicated. The fight was finally over. Giyuu made the most of the four years he was given, mindful of the timeline given to him when he obtained the demon slayer mark.

He knew it was his time. He laid in his bed, in a small house he obtained with land to till. Something quiet after all his time in the demon slayer corps. His old haori lay across a chair, the mask you gave him hanging from the wall.

You told him you would take it back when you returned. Instead, he arrived back at the mountain alone, carrying your mask and Sabito’s haori. He didn’t know how he was going to tell your mentor. Thankfully he didn’t have to. One look and Urokodaki only nodded, vowing to never send another student to the final selection. The day he left the mountain he thought he saw you and Sabito standing there, only to disappear when he turned around.

When they made him a hashira he heard your voice, telling him that all three of you would make it. That they should be honored to have three water hashira. He thought about the night before the final selection and the promise his two friends made to each other. Once again he thought it should have been him who died instead.

In the weeks leading up to this moment, he’d been having the same dream. A woman on her wedding day, dressed in a white kimono, her hair piled up with an elaborate pin. Some nights it was his sister, other nights it was you. Or at least he thought it was. You looked to be the age he was now, what you should have been. Both women denied a future in exchange for saving his life.

Giyuu turned his head, feeling a hand on his own. He looked up to see his sister kneeling beside the bed. She gave him a warm smile, rubbing his hand in reassurance. If this was a dream he wasn’t sure if he wanted to wake up.

“It’s been a while, Giyuu.”

He directed his attention to the voice, one he recognized as his best friend. Sabito stood at the foot of his bed, a smile on his face. You stood next to him, your face as kind as he remembered. Tsutako gripped his hand, helping to ease him out of bed. His body felt lighter than it had in days.

You stepped forward, grabbing his other hand, holding it in both hands as if he would break. A smile on your face.

“We’ve come to bring you home.”

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer #giyuu tomioka #sabito #sabito kny #tomioka giyu x reader #sabito x reader

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vampcubus · 5 years

Text

Quiet (Midoriya/Reader) [part 2]

| A/n: I have to admit, I re-wrote the ending several times and I’m still not satisfied with it but here we go anyways! |

| See part 1 ... here |

✦✿ Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. ✿✦

✦✿ Words: 5500+ ✿✦

are you guys ready to c r y??

. . .

You stare blankly at a red and purple sky, eyes lazily watching the clouds roll by and the half-visible sun dip down and slowly set. You leaned forward to capture that perfect in-between moment, smiling as the last sliver of the sun finally dipped behind the horizon, letting the sky gradually shift from warm pinks and oranges to dark blues, indigos, and purples. You sighed and sank into a more relaxed position as your eyes welcomed the appearance of the moon as it took to the sky, washing the park in its gentle white light.

You sat at the same rotting-wooden picnic table you sat at every night, a familiar book with kitty skeletons draped in red and black across the cover sat just beneath your hand. The lukewarm coffee you’d picked up hours earlier sat right next to the book, half-empty from your lack of interest despite it being your favorite kind.

You’d even considered dropping by your dorm to throw it in the freezer—to beat yourself with later if you kept thinking about a particularly annoying green-haired boy—before coming here, but you found that you just didn’t want to be on campus more than you had to.

Being out and about decreased your chances of running into him.

You let your eyes stray from the steadily appearing stars and to your right, where Midoriya had sat just a few nights ago.

You let out a frustrated sigh, turning your gaze back up to the sky and raising the cup of coffee to your lips. It didn’t taste amazing right now, but it served as a good enough distraction to stop thinking about him. You’d done the right thing, whether you cared about Midoriya or not, you wouldn’t let yourself be manipulated. You would not come running back into his arms only to be forgotten when other things in his life became more important than you again.

It was better this way.

You told yourself, trying to convince yourself that you would only distract Izuku from his dreams. You’d only get in the way and end up broken again when he realized that.

You flicked the book open and skimmed your eyes over the pages. The illustrations of grim-themed yet still cute cats above each new chapter momentarily consuming your attention. Your soft smile faltered when you stumbled upon a particularly strange looking cat with wild, curly fur and huge round eyes cowering underneath a couch. Your eyes lingered on the drawing, everything about it just screams Izuku.

You shake yourself out of it and flip to the front page, breath hitching when you noticed a sticky note attached to it. It was in the handwriting of the clerk you’d grown familiar with. She often scribbled funny quotes or little notes things into the books you purchased for you to laugh about when you stumbled into the shop again.

He was here today, wanted me to slide this to you once you came in today. Not quite sure if he knows that ‘secret admirers’ are supposed to be discreet?

-Kiko ッ

You almost smile at that, not doubting for a moment who she was referring to. But then you knit your brows together in confusion when you noticed an arrow at the bottom of the note. Curiously, you unstuck the unusually heavy sticky note and flipped it. Your heart stopped functioning entirely when you saw a familiar bracelet taped to the back of it.

You gasped tearing the bracelet from the note and inspecting it closely. No way… there’s no way he even remembered this existed.

It was a colorful and cute bracelet with mostly green beads and white lettered ones spelling out ‘All Might.’

The sight of the bracelet brings you way back, and suddenly you are no longer outside at the park.

Instead, you are laying on your stomach with an impressive fort of blankets hanging above your head. Your small hands fiddled with the beads, tiny fingers slipping on each random-shaped bead you could find in your craft box that was remotely green in color. Across from you lays a much smaller Izuku on his belly with his nose buried in a comic book, eyes sparkling and lips noisily slurping at the straw of a juice box.

“Y/N-chan look!” The curly-haired boy squeals, shoving the comic book over to you and pointing at a panel of a very stylized All Might with multiple civilians draped over his shoulders. It’s a familiar frame from the video you’ve watched with the boy about a million times already. You personally didn’t idolize the symbol of peace as passionately as your friend, but it always made him happy, so you always watched it with him. You squinted, scrunching up your nose at the picture.

“They drew his hair wrong!” You complained pointing at the clearly exaggerated shojo-looking hairstyle the number one hero had been illustrated with.

“No, that’s just the artists’ style.” Little Izuku exclaims, standing up in the fort, proudly posing in his All Might one-sie, holding the comic book up into the air like it was Simba.

“Ohh,” You remember humming thoughtfully before returning to tying an s-clip to the end of the bracelet, looking your newest creation over with pride. You sat up too, looking anxiously over to your best friend who had engrossed himself back into the comic. “Gimme your hand.”

You vividly remember the young boy’s freckled face lighting up and his hand being shoved in your direction. You slid the way-too-big bracelet over his tiny wrist and looped it around a second time so it wouldn’t fall off. “Here, so everybody knows you’re the next All Might!”

His big green eyes overflowed with tears, almost flooding your blanket sanctuary and drowning you both in his own tears when he tackled you to the ground, hugging you tight. You remember him showing the bracelet off to all of his friends and Kacchan the next day. He wore it even more religiously than his hero-onesie, his mother even mentioning that he only took it off to bathe.

You recall your shock when a week later he dropped a similar home-made bracelet with your favorite-colored beads and your idolized hero’s name on it. It had been the first time anyone had ever made something for you and you cherished it.

“We match now, so that means we gotta become big strong heroes together when we get big!” You remember his high-pitched voice declaring with his best All Might impression.

You felt your eyes burn with salt and the telltale weight of tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, your fingers shaking as they clutched the bracelet. Despite how old the plastic piece of jewelry was, it was in outstanding condition--save for a few scratches on the bigger beads here and there.

You’d thought that he’d lost it or thrown it away a long time ago. It’s been years. How on earth did he still have this?

Feeling your breath start to quicken you shot up from your seat, grabbing the book from the table and dashing off towards U.A. You turned each sharp corner, narrowly avoiding crashing into several other students—including Bakugou who hissed and swore at you as you retreated to your dorm You shoved the door open and slammed it shut. The next fifteen minutes were spent digging through your stuff, looking through untouched boxes of your things you’d brought from home but never needed until now.

And then, you finally found it tucked away in an old pencil pouch. You pulled out an all-too-familiar bracelet, holding it up to compare to the green one in your other hand. There was no doubt about it, it was real. Your fingertips traced the familiar beads of your own bracelet, eyes flickering between it and its counterpart.

Why…?

Why did he keep it so long?

You kicked the box back into the closet and toed the door shut, tossing both bracelets onto your nightstand and flopping face-down onto your bed.

It didn’t matter. It was just a bracelet, nothing more than a flimsy piece of plastic. Nothing compared to the friendship you had. So what if he held onto some dumb bracelet? That didn’t make up for months of distance, weeks of him slowly forgetting you existed while you stood idly by. Letting it happen because you cared too much.

So why did you feel so guilty?

You groaned exasperatedly into your pillow snuggling your face into it when it started to soothe your headache. Your eyes opened suddenly with a furious glower when your stupid brain immediately thought back to the times you and Izuku would nap together when you were kids, anywhere anytime. You often played so hard you knocked yourselves out so his mom would find you cuddled up against one another in your blanket forts, on the couch, on the slide at the park, under the sink once… anywhere you could fit into and doze off, you would.

In fact, you didn’t shake the habit of napping together until you were at least thirteen, which is usually around when parents start getting suspicious so you stopped doing it. You felt a slight blush rise to your cheeks, remembering those special times in middle school when you would sneak in and sleep together for a while if one of you had a nightmare. That was most likely the most rebellious thing you two innocent little suck-ups ever did.

You sigh, eyes drifting over to the bracelets strewn carelessly across your nightstand.

How can one bracelet bring back so much nostalgia?

. . .

Midoriya was slumped miserably against one of the couches in the dorm lounge, pen shakily scribbling away at an assignment. His handwriting has gotten a little better since last year, still wobbly and inconsistent in places but his teachers have voiced their appreciation of its improvement. He thinks back to earlier when he had dropped off that bracelet at the bookshop, afraid that if he approached you, you wouldn’t want to see him or he’d start crying again.

It really tore him apart inside to part with it, having kept it for so long. He’d found the bracelet while looking through some of his things one day. It fell out of a box with a bunch of his older more beat up action figures.

Seeing it after being put away for so long had brought the biggest smile to his face, remembering how much he’d loved it when he was younger. It was also what made him remember you… It was as if you suddenly popped back into existence. And in excitement to share the memory with you, perhaps catch up with you over coffee, he had disregarded the fact that it had been months since you’d last spoken.

He now realizes his mistake.

But after last night he knew he didn’t deserve to have such an important piece of you to himself. He absentmindedly wondered if you still had yours… probably not, huh? His wasn’t as pretty as the one you made him, and why would you keep it after he practically ignored you for a year?

Still, he had hope that just maybe there was a chance he could make it up to you, that he hadn’t messed up so bad that you never want to speak to him again. Midoriya closed his eyes, frowning down at his notebook in shame. Who was he kidding? It was just a piece of plastic and likely held no value to you after what he did.

He misses it. Already.

“Midoriya.” Iida’s voice piped up and the green-haired boy jumped.

“Oh hey, Iida. Did you need something?” He asked, trying not to sound as worked up as he really was, forcing a small smile.

“I came to ask if you’d heard from L/N at all today?” Midoriya’s heart dropped at the sound of your name.

“No… why?”

“Well, it’s just that several students claimed to have seen her running obnoxiously through the halls earlier this evening and I was curious if you’d happen to know anything about it?” Iida asks, straightening his glasses with a displeased expression, clearly not amused by your behavior.

“No, I haven’t. Sorry,” Midoriya admitted sullenly, eyes downcast to the floor.

Iida’s eyes softened and the bluenette sighed, taking a seat next to his friend. Ochako and he hadn’t managed to get much out of the sulking Midoriya since the other night, but they suspect that things didn’t necessarily go well between him and you. Not to mention he’s been a zombie all for days, barely getting any sleep at all these past few nights

“And, as your friend, I am concerned about your wellbeing,” Tenya confessed, pushing his glasses up closer against his face as Midoriya sighed.

“I’m fine, Iida.” Midoriya offered him a half-smile but otherwise made no attempt to spill anything. Tenya made eye-contact with Ochako across the common room, who had been the one to encourage him to approach Deku in the first place.

“Midoriya, what happened between you and L/N last evening?” The Iida son pressed, cautious not to pry too much in fear of upsetting him.

“I messed up,” Midoriya looked down at his lap, a drawing of your face in the corner of his math homework. He abruptly turned the page in hopes Iida hadn’t already seen it. “Really badly.”

. . .

The next morning, Izuku is as sluggish and mopey as ever, worrying his classmates with his lack of enthusiasm.

“You should talk to her.” Todoroki’s cool voice shakes Midoirya out of his daze after homeroom. He’s been staring absently at you as you ignored his existence, focusing on the lesson. It isn’t hard to guess who the half-and-half teen was talking about. And yet he still found himself surprised.

“I’ve tried, Todoroki. Talking won't help.” Midoriya sighs, eyes dropping to his mess of notes, including several crumpled up drawings of you.

“And sulking around doing nothing will?” Todoroki questions, not able to recognize the shell of the boy in front of him.

“I messed up, and she wants nothing to do with me now.” And he respects that.

“Something tells me that isn’t entirely the case.” Shouto replies and the green-haired boy sends him a puzzled look.

“What do you mean by that?” He asks, a brow raised at the possibility that Todoroki knows something he doesn’t.

“You forget that Y/N and I are close friends now, although you haven’t necessarily been around so you may not have known at all.” He states bluntly and it does nothing to comfort Midoriya at all. He hadn’t known you and Todoroki were friends! What else did he not know about you?

“What are you getting at, Todoroki?” Deku asks with a defeated tone, wishing the stoic prodigy would just be out with it.

“Y/N tells me everything, don’t think she hasn’t told me about what happened a few nights ago. But when she spoke about you it didn’t seem like she didn’t want anything to do with you.” Shouto explained, definitely catching the young Midoriya’s attention. “She’s upset, yes, and you aren’t wrong to assume that she is angry with you right now. But the longer you wait to talk to her about it—if you planned to at all that is—the longer it will take for her to forgive you.”

Forgive him? Was that even possible at this point? He didn’t know, but if what Todoroki said was true, and he actually had a chance, he couldn’t waste any more time ‘sulking around and doing nothing.’

“Are you sure that’s even possible, Todoroki?” Deku questioned, eyes adept as ever as he searched the bi-colored eyes of his rival and friend for answers he may not even have.

“I don’t know for sure, Midoriya. That is up to Y/N.” Todoroki admits, and Deku bites the inside of his cheek still torn over this. “But I don’t think she will forgive you if you don’t try.”

“Mm.” Deku nods, thanking the two-toned boy and packing up for his next class of the day.

. . .

Your ears perked up at the sound of someone knocking on your door later that night. You sighed into your pillow, not wanting to leave its soft embrace. You tried to ignore it at first, pretending to be asleep but he insistent knocking continued. Grumpily you pushed off of your comfy bed to sluggishly open the door, thinking it was most likely Mina and she’d just keep knocking until you opened up.

You were not expecting Midoriya to be standing there.

“What do you want?” You asked, your voice holding no softness or enthusiasm ad your narrowed eyes stared coldly at your former best friend. He flinches at the icy tone of your voice.

“I-I um… can we… talk?” Izuku asks anxiously, wringing his hands together, elbows drawn in close to his stomach self-consciously. “Please?”

He meets your steeled gaze with his own apologetic one, green eyes pleading with yours. Izuku owned the most convincing pair of puppy-dog eyes you’ve ever seen, even when he wasn’t meaning to and even now you faltered.

“Why? Why should I let you in? Give me one good reason not to slam the door in your face and go back to bed?”

“B-because I w-won’t leave until I say what I need to say,” Midoriya stated as firmly as he could, a determined glimmer in his eyes as he did so. You don’t doubt that he might sit at your door all night if you refused him. “A-and I have a feeling you have some things to say too.”

He wants to resolve this.

“I have nothing to say to you.” You hissed stepping back into the threshold of your room starting to close the door but his hand smacks against the wooden surface, a desperate look in his eyes that only makes you push harder. “Move.”

“Please! Please just hear me out, Y/N, please just give me this! Let me try! You don’t need to forgive me. I just need you to listen!” Midoriya pleads, his glossy eyes already spilling hot tears down his freckled cheeks. He’s shaking. “Please…”

Midoriya stumbles forward when the door opens and he just barely catches himself, wide eyes darting up to yours as you take several steps away from the entrance. You cross your arms, you can’t believe you’re actually doing this.

“You have five minutes. Start talking.” You relent, sitting down on your bed.

Midoriya sighs in relief, closing the door behind him before clumsily scrambling over to you. You pat the spot next to you, avoiding any and all eye-contact. Izuku’s heart skips a beat when he spots his bracelet on your nightstand. So you did get it! His breath gets caught in his throat when he tries to speak at the same moment his eyes drift to your wrist, where a relic of your friendship dangles.

You kept it! He feels his eyes overflowing, the ugly fat tears streaking down the sides of his face as he stares dumbfounded at the familiar bracelet.

“You have four minutes.” You flatly remind him, and he jumps, trying to think of the words he’d practiced just a half-hour before he showed up at your dorm.

“AH—o-okay! um, I…” When he fails to speak even after a good minute passes, you sigh deeply. If he had nothing to say, why’d he even come? What happened to all that gusto about ‘saying what I need to say’?

“Why did you keep it?” You ask out of the blue after an uncomfortable silence and his head perks up, but he looks confused, eyes searching yours.

“Keep what—?” He starts, but you cut him off.

“The bracelet. Why did you keep it? It’s been years, I didn’t even think you still remembered that old piece of junk existed.” You blurt out, each word sounding distressed and just… confused. You wanted to understand.

He stares at you, mouth agape at a complete loss of what to say. His mouth suddenly feels dry and his tongue rubs anxiously against the roof of his mouth.

“Because… because it was important... to me.” Izuku breathes, the muscles and nerves in his hand twitching as it laid only inches away from yours. “I was s-so happy when you first gave it to me, my mom had to pry it off of me just to bathe me.” He chuckles, smiling at the memory.

“And I kept it because it reminded me of you, it felt like there was a part of you with me even when you couldn’t be there. It comforted me, knowing that you put s-so m-much thought into something j-just for me and I f-felt so special!” He breaks off when his hiccups start to get out of control. “A-and—”

He chokes and apologizes taking a moment to breathe again. You hadn’t realized how much one silly piece of jewelry had impacted him until now, so much so that he’s crying over it.

“And I made a promise, remember?” Izuku sniffs, wiping his eyes uselessly with his hand, only really smearing the wetness across his cheeks and wetting his hand with his own tears as they continued to spill down the freckled planes of his red cheeks.

You nod, but turn away when you feel your own emotions starting to spike up. You bit your lip, held your breath, clenched your teeth. Anything to keep the tears at bay as they threatened to fall.

“I-I said that when we—”

“We match now, so that means we gotta become big strong heroes together when we get big.” You butt in, sniffling and raising a hand to scrub at the tears streaming down your face and pooling at your chin. “That’s what you said.”

Deku stares at you, guffawed as you quoted his younger self. He hadn’t expected you to remember it so clearly, It makes him feel even worse. Knowing how much it must’ve hurt you when you grew apart. How hard it must’ve been on you to keep quiet about everything while he lived his best life, forgetting all about his dearest friend.

“Why’d you give it back?” You asked, voice trembling as you wiping your eyes with your arm. You glanced over at the green bracelet lying on your nightstand. “If it meant so much to you, why give it back?”

He closed his eyes. He listened to his heart as it slammed against his chest like a pinball machine, demanding him to say something.

“Because I forgot about the friendship it represented, and I shouldn’t have. I wish I wouldn’t have, but I did. I broke my own promise and e-even worse, I hurt you because I was just too caught up in my own problems—my own dreams—to remember that you’ve been a part of them since the beginning.” Izuku sobbed, there was no point in holding it all in now.

“I gave it back because I was so afraid I screwed up everything between us, and I don’t deserve it!”

I don’t deserve you. The phrase rang in his ears so loudly it was almost deafening, he wanted nothing more than to say it too. He couldn’t because he couldn’t catch a single damn breath to say it. But even as he feels he has gathered that breath it’s stolen away once more when he feels your hands on his face.

In a flurry of your own emotions and a nagging force of habit you had reached out and grasped his face, the soft pads of your thumbs wiping at his cheeks.

“Stop crying already, you had something you wanted to say right? Stop letting your emotions get in the way of that.”

The firmness in your tone as your stern eyes descended upon his own struck a chord in him. You’ve said something like that to him before. Years ago.

“Stop crying, Izuku! Stop letting your emotions keep you from standing up for yourself! Kacchan steps on you because he knows all you’ll do is cry!”

Multiple times.

“Would ya quit crying already? You’re tougher than that, Izu. Like All Might!”

Constantly.

“Stop crying because you don’t have a quirk! Become a hero without one!”

It had always been you. You there comforting him, encouraging him, telling him to quit crying and speak up for himself. To keep pushing on despite the fact that he just wasn’t as gifted as other children. How could he have forgotten one of the most important lessons you ever taught him? How could he have forgotten about you?

You tugged one of your bunched sleeves down with your teeth and dried up the downpour of tears from his cheeks with your hoodie sleeve. Careful not to rub the skin raw, you kept at it until he was simply too shocked to cry anymore. This is the first time you’ve done this in years, yet far from the first time you’ve had to do it at all. Even as children, you were using your fingers, your sleeves, the edge of your shirt to wipe his tears away.

“I—”

“Shush, I don’t want to hear it unless it’s what you came here to say.” You interrupt, and the look in his eyes changes from nervous to determined.

“I was going to say that I am s-sorry,” He stutters.

“What else?” You encouraged, watching as he slowly gained more confidence. “You said you weren’t going to leave until you say what you need to say, keep your promise.”

“I was going to say that I don’t deserve you!”

“And are you lying?” You ask.

“No!” Midoriya exclaims more confidently, more certain of himself than before.

“And is that all you wanted to say?” You asked again, smiling as the sobbing boy from before completely changed with your encouragement, egging him on.

“No…” Midoriya confesses, faltering slightly as his nervousness returns. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to say it yet. Would that even be acceptable right now? Even as strong as he feels right now he can’t help but hesitate, to blush, to avoid your gaze.

“Then say it.”

“I…” He trails off, suddenly terrified of the thought. He couldn’t! It would put everything on the line! “I-I…”

Your hand cups his cheek coaxing him to look back up at you.

“Stop hesitating, tell me what you want to say.”

He’s already put your friendship on the line, what difference would it make? You wanted the truth so you’d get it! He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes before opening them again, meeting your own straight on. There’s a spark in those green eyes that wasn’t there before he squinted them shut. It’s like an emerald fire was lit behind them.

“I love you!”

It’s quiet.

You stare at him, and he stares right back, his determined gaze never weakening as he maintained eye-contact.

“You what?”

“You heard me,” Midoriya replies.

This time it’s your turn to shy away. Your face darkens incredibly fast, heart racing against your chest as your eyes darted from side to side, deep in thought. Your mind threw numbers together into every equation it knew, each answer coming out the same. You had expected an “I want to be friends again!” or “I want a second chance!” or “I want to fix this!”

Never in a million years could you have predicted him to say that. Not to you. Your eyes drifted back up to his. He looks a little less confident now, almost worried as he awaits your response.

“Get out.” You breathe, eyes wide as you stare at him watching his determined face change to one of confusion.

You couldn’t believe it. After forgetting your existence for almost a year, after only remembering when he found the bracelet, after only wanting to talk to you because it was most convenient to him… and he has the goddamn nerve to say that he loved you.

“W-what?” Izuku gasped, not understanding what was going on. Suddenly you were pressing yourself against the wall farthest from him on your bed.

“G-get out!” You exclaim, the angry tears running down your face.

“Y/N, what are you s-saying?” His voice shook, the tears starting to fall from his eyes again, his nose beginning to run as well as his entire body shook. Why were you telling him to leave? Did he make the wrong call? Did you not feel the same?

“Why are you lying to me?” You asked, the question coming out like a whisper.

“I-I’m not lying to you, I love you!” Midoriya cried. “Please, you have to believe me, I wouldn’t lie to you! I’ve always liked you—since we were kids, Y/N! I can’t fake that! You know I can’t!”

You shake as his desperate green eyes plead with yours, a sincerity in those irises you grew up staring into, a sincerity that just can’t be faked. He actually… he actually loved you? But why? He ignored you for a year!

“And you can honestly tell me that in that year you forgot about me you loved me?!” You demanded, your tears making your vision blurry and unmanageable.

“I never stopped loving you, even if it was overshadowed by my dream to become a hero, even if I made mistakes not even I can fix, my heart always belonged to you.” Midoriya crawled over to kneel in front of you on your bed where you still had your back pressed to the wall and your knees pulled tightly to your chest. “I’m not perfect, Y/N. I made a mistake by not being there for you, and I will do anything it takes to fix it if I can.”

“And you won’t forget me again? You promise?” You ask shakily, feeling a little embarrassed by how small you felt, scrunched up in such a way and crying in front of someone other than your cat at home.

“Yes,” His immediate response confirms it, not an ounce of hesitation present in the way it rolls off his tongue. “I promise, I’ll never forget you. And I’ll never be the reason you cry again.”

“Can you believe me?” Izuku reached his hand out to you.

“I… I believe you.” You admit, a small smile gracing your lips as you take his hand. Izuku lets out a relieved sigh, his free hand trembling over his heart. You can tell how terrified he was. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you though, Izu.”

“I know, and I’m going to try my very best to make it up to you. I promise.” Izuku states. It doesn’t bother him that you didn’t say ‘I love you’ back, he wouldn’t have deserved it. He’s going to have to work for it, and that was fine with him.

“Do you…” You started, face flushing and eyes avoiding his as you removed your hands from his face. “Do you wanna hug it out?”

“Yes!” You yelp when he throws himself at you, tackling you to the bed with his arms around you. You squeeze your own arms around him, face burrowing into his shoulder as you squeezed the life out of one another.

“Sorry.” He mutters when he realizes he’s practically on top of you and most likely crushing you. He moves to roll off of you but your arms only tighten around him.

“No, please just… can we just stay like this for a while?” You asked, and Izuku felt his heart beating so fast he was convinced it eventually just commit seppuku if it pounded any harder. He nodded against your shoulder, cheeks burning a bright crimson as he relaxes.

“Also,” You spoke up and he hummed in response, he couldn’t be bothered to move. You reached over to your nightstand to snatch the green bracelet from it, the green-haired boy whining when he had to re-adjust after you started moving. “Gimme your hand.”

He pulled away, green pools swirling with confusion. He complies with your sudden request and gasps when you slide the bracelet back onto his wrist.

“This belongs to you.” You smiled and he mirrored it with one of his own, hand impulsively taking yours, fingers intertwining with your own. Your matching bracelets reflected the dim light of the room, casting a warm glow over your faces as you smiled at each other. No longer did you feel forgotten or used, instead you felt loved again. “Now get off me.”

Izuku laughs and slips off of you to lay at your side, his arms pulling you in close so he could cuddle you, just like you did when you were kids.

Izuku rested his forehead against yours, one hand reaching up to timidly brush against your reddened cheek, causing your eyes to flutter closed and a small sigh to escape your smiling lips. He missed seeing you smile. But there was still something else that he needed to take care of before you drifted off to sleep.

“Y/N?” He asked.

“Yes?” You sighed sleepily,

“Don’t ever feel like you have to keep quiet anymore, alright? Please, always talk to me.”

You blinked, your mouth opening and closing several times.

“Okay.”

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the-ghost-king · 4 years

Note

time for me to share a good™️ headcanon: will and nico love to steal each other’s clothes but their massive size difference makes it so obvious that they’re doing it. nico’s shirts are almost croptops on will and will’s sweaters are practically a dress on nico bc will is like 6’2 and nico’s like 5’5

Anon! Anon! Yes, you. You get it.

I don’t really know what you wanted as a response to this but I felt inspired for the first time in some 10 months so I gifted you a one shot below the “read more”. I’ll also upload it to Ao3 with a link in the notes...

Anyhow Anon, I hope you enjoy it! I got a little off topic but reflective fluff is always good!

If you would have asked Will what he wanted out of life as a kid you probably would have gotten an answer that was something like “a chance to actually go and live life as it was meant to be” or maybe “to be happy, pretty, and stupid”.

He didn’t dare to hope for more, demigods didn’t live long lives, and being involved in a major battle at thirteen didn’t do wonders in regards to establishing confidence in your survival. As for the “pretty and stupid” part of his answer, it wasn’t that Will had ever hated being smart, he just hated the disconnect different intelligence levels caused in peer groups and society; being smart was hard, sure for school purposes it was nice, but that intelligence means you’re constantly thinking and so often so much of the world seems so dull and petty. Will had been lucky enough to be blessed with decent looks, moving through the world was made easy in at least that regard, but he wished he could live without thinking so much because so often he could only see so much awful in the world.

Thirteen year old Will wouldn’t have dared hope for anything more, he wouldn’t have dared hope for anything else more than a decade or so of normal life beyond camp and a chance at an easy life for those few years. When fourteen year old Will got a depression diagnosis he wouldn’t say he was surprised, he would have been annoyed but he hadn’t really felt much of anything in years. (”Atypical depression” The doctor had said, “likely clinical”) A few different types of anti-depressants and a few months of therapy things started feeling okay, better at least. Fifteen came and went, he tried to go off the pills and didn’t quite get there, but his dose got lowered which Will supposed was nice.

In the months of early 16, Nico di Angelo stumbles into his life; exhausted and melting under the pressure of the universe, he makes friends with death. It isn’t much, but Will remembers him from when they were kids back before any major fights. He remembers hearing about Nico running off and he felt bad for not having made a continued effort to get to know him. He felt bad when he left after the Battle of Manhattan too, they’d prepped bodies for their departure together and Will had gotten hung up in the infirmary (he had been one of the last Apollo campers and he was the only one with medical training). In some ways, Will supposed he was making up for those lost years when he didn’t have time to befriend Nico as he would have liked, it made him feel like he was at least trying.

In the beginning things were undeniably rocky, Nico was constantly hooked to machines just so Will could guarantee he wouldn’t die overnight. Even on Nico’s first night in the infirmary he had struggles with sleep, the bed wasn’t comfortable enough and after trying a large variety of options Will had hauled Nico and all of his equipment out to the porch on the back of the infirmary and they slept there for those three days (which turned into two weeks), wrapped up in jackets and in a pile of blankets beneath camp’s fall skies.

Within a few months, they fell in love.

Okay listen, people can call Will ridiculous all they want- but love at first sight is real and he experienced it. He didn’t know it but the day he met Nico and looked into the dark browns of his eyes, he thought something about how his eyes looked like ash from the fireplace at Mama’s house, or how they looked like the soil that his windowsill plants grew from. If you would have asked Will what he thought of Nico the very first time they’d met, he would have told you something about how his eyes were “big, dark, and round like a baby cow”. What Will really meant is that Nico reminded him of the family ranch house he grew up in, he meant he looked like home.

At the time Will just hadn’t known that was what love felt like, but when he figured it out one day teaching Nico how to play Hold ‘em on the back porch of the infirmary with a light breeze and setting sun as they settles down for bed; he knew one thing, he didn’t want anything more than to make Nico happy and he hoped that he could be a part of that more than anything.

It took a little longer for Nico to come around, he had his own demons to battle. Internalized homophobia, even in small doses, is a real downer to say the least, let alone when you’re fighting demons you’ve manifested for some 15 years. The biggest struggle however, was probably in all honesty the fact that Nico was so goddamned oblivious. After spending years alone with limited human contact at best, and having spent so many years desperately wanting Percy to notice him, and being met with negative reactions, Nico didn’t know what love looked like anymore. How had he been supposed to know he was in love with Will?

There was a lot of subtle back and forth, would the other even be interested in a guy? It ended one day with an unplanned kiss followed by a declaration. Will called it the best mistake he ever made, neither of them really thought it was a mistake.

It was days like today that only proved that.

Will had woken up to Nico’s face on a pillow next to him. He’d fallen asleep with his hair pulled back in a ponytail, and some of his smaller hairs had fallen loose in the night and now framed his peaceful face. The first rays of golden sunlight fell through accidentally left open curtains, and Will reached out to brush a stray piece of dark hair and place it behind Nico’s ear.

He woke up to a morning more beautiful than he would have ever hoped for at 13, and he would always be glad for that. He would always be grateful for how far he had come in not quite a decade. At just twenty-two he was 4 years into medical school, and three years married to Nico and he truly believed he was one of the happiest men in the world simply because he made Nico happy.

In time, Nico too would wake up.

First with a huff, and then a grumbling noise of annoyance as he rubbed his face with his arm as though trying to block out light before half-asleep Nico seemed to accept his fate and wake up fully.

“Good morning”

“How long have you been up?”

“Awhile”

Nico made a knowledgeable humming sound, perhaps he was just acknowledging Will’s response or perhaps he was saying ‘of course’.

A few kisses, a short conversation, and a couple of “I love you”’s later, they got out of bed.

Nico's was wearing Will's high school hoodie that was a bit too short on Will anymore like it was a dress on him. The hoodie went down to Nico’s knees, he's got his own black shorts on because Will's just fall off unless he ties them really really tight. He's got black socks pulled up almost to his knees, there’s a little gap between the end of Nico’s shorts and the start of his socks. The hoodie goes down an inch or two past his short pockets, and he goes outside to grab the mail with a pair of unlaced combat boots on his feet. He's got his skull ring on his middle finger of his right hand, and his left hand holds a simple wedding band which glint in the light as he opens the front door. His hair is pulled up into a messy ponytail, some of it is up some of it is down, there's tons of flyaway hairs which frame his face since he hasn’t fixed it sense getting out of bed.

Call it a cliché, but Nico looks like Heaven personified without even trying.

Sure, everyone looks nice in a suit or a dress, but how many people can roll out of bed without doing their hair wearing a decade old hoodie and look like they belong in a magazine spread?

Will is wearing one of Nico's looser shirts, on Nico it comes down past his hips and a little onto his thighs, on Will is he so much as lifts his arms a centimeter it reveals his hip bones. He doesn’t really mind, he kind of likes it to be entirely honest. Will can remember being just a few inches shorter than he is now and fitting fairly comfortably in Nico’s clothes at the time, they had never worried whose clothes they grabbed back then. Nico had finished his growth spirt and Will had thought he was done only two inches taller, it didn’t matter whose clothes were whose because everything fit well enough.

That wasn't quite the case now, Nico had stayed at his casual 5"5 while Will had shot up and extra six inches to 6"2 and ruined his own chances of sharing clothes. Such as right now he was sure he was wearing his own sweats, because he had specifically had to get a pair last night despite Nico's having been more accessible. Anytime he's actually managed to get a pair of Nico's pants comfortably on in the last few years, result in him wearing pants that are more like compression shorts or capris than pants.

Will was just happy he could wear some of Nico's larger shirts and hoodies still, the fact that Nico preferred to sleep in lots of clothes and typically baggy clothes meant Will had some options when it came to wearing his husbands stuff.

Will has also managed to steal a pair of Nico's socks, they're a taller pair on Nico (he buys winter wear so often because he's cold always) but on Will they gather a little awkwardly around his ankle. Will doesn't usually wear socks but they had gone to bed without the heat on and apparently the cold had set in over night and you could definitely feel it on their apartment floors.

The clothes would be a bit stretched out from him, it was something Will can remember being worried about after his second growth spurt, but Nico doesn't mind, He's assured Will of this time and time again, he says something about "aesthetic" and "alternative". Will doesn't really know, he's never cared much for fashion but he'll take Nico's word on it.

The truth, although it's something Nico would only admit in their bed late at night when it was so dark you could barely see his face, and arguably a little drunk as well, was that he actually enjoyed the way the clothes fit better after Will wore them. He found some sort of comfort in the way the shoulders of his shirts would be just a little too wide on him, it was one of those small acts of love, it wasn't one Will entirely understood but both of them got their own sort of enjoyment out of Will stretching out Nico's sleeping clothes some so they went with it.

Will turns his attention from Nico walking out the door to the coffee pot on the countertop.

Will doesn't like coffee much, he likes the social aspect of getting a cup more. Nico had introduced him to it, he’d been drinking it for years by the time they’d left camp. It reminded him of home and he grew to like it for such reasons, and although Nico would consume just about anything with enough caffeine in it Will needed creamer to enjoy coffee to any amount.

They were both honestly probably more tea people, but they never seemed to remember to buy any. Will will try to remember to write it down on the grocery list later, but Nico has walked back into the kitchen, climbed up on the counter next to Will and now he is looking at him; and Nico is always a distraction that's worthy of taking, Will will definitely forget to write down tea for their grocery list and the week will start over with more coffee in the house and no tea.

Nico’s fingers grip the countertop and he swings his legs a little bit back and forth from where he sits on the black granite, his white gold rings set against the counter in contrast. Will's worn out blue hoodie looks grey with age, the little printed letters are cracked and peeling on the back of it, his last name can still be read in white though.

Will knows the cliché about your lover wearing your name is often unhealthy and overly possessive, but he likes seeing Nico with his name because it feels like a gift. It’s like he’s given Nico a part of himself and Nico accepted it with pride, and Will loves that, he loves him and Nico being little pieces of each other.

Nico is smiling at him, and leans just so, Will turns in acknowledgment of the gesture, and moves so he’s standing to the left of Nico. Nico crosses his legs at the ankle and leans towards Will laying his head against Will where his neck and shoulder meet. Will leans forward and buries his face into Nico’s hair, comfortable and a little sleepy still.

"Coffee?"

"Mhmm."

"Good."

Will isn't the best cook, for fucks sake he's not even someone who could be considered a good cook, but he can handle this. Nico taught him the basics when they were still living at camp, Will failed every time, he ended up going home for a short period for Christmas break and begging his mom "teach me how to make eggs" he left off the bit about impressing Nico but he knows she knew. When he came back Nico had just smiled at him, "you practiced huh?"

Will hadn't gotten better at making much else, some eggs, toast, coffee and he could boil water now too! He had burnt lots of stuff over the years, plastic containers in the microwave, a plastic ladle they had on the stove top, at least 100 failed attempts at grilled cheese. Will was honestly just happy he hadn’t blown up any microwaves since he was a kid...

Nico had come home to many of Will's failed attempts at making him various things, sometimes the food was underdone other times it was bits of inedible char. Will did try, he really did, but the heat was always too high or he would end up distracted, or he would use sugar on accident instead of salt. Will did actually try, but his best attempts still often left something to be desired, so he often was the one doing dishes.

Most notably one time Nico had come home to him attempting to pan-frying some fish.

It had been supposed to be a surprise, it was Nico's birthday, and Will had had the day off of class even though Nico hadn't. He figured he would have surprised him; it had been back in their first apartment, not quite as nice as this one. A cheap tiled cream counter top that Nico had literally cringed at when seeing it the first time, the cabinets had somehow been cheaper than a set from IKEA and it had become an inside joke to them.

He had walked in the apartment to see smoke coming off the pan with a bit of flame still coming off it, and a large piece of charred fish stuck to the bottom of one of their frying pans.

"Hey dumbass, what did you do in here?"

People thought they were an odd couple, Will could see that. The whole parallel people drew between light and dark and optimism and pessimism and such between them, none of those people were really correct though. Will and Nico were more similar than they were different. At the end of the day it didn’t really matter what people said, Will liked Nico, he loved him in all honesty- he'd never heard the word "dumbass" said with so much affection.

Nico was hard for most people to read, years along had left him struggling emotionally in some manner; he did his best to hide most of his emotions, cloak them so heavily that sometimes they were even unrecognizable to Nico himself.

The most obvious example of this in regards to Nico was how "shut up" often meant "I love you", "idiot" was synonymous with "darling" in some ways. Don't get Will wrong, Nico could be very affectionate, but pet names came with hesitation for him in the early days; Should he use Venetian, Italian, or English? Masculine words that were romantic had been hard for him to say as well... But everyday he grew and got better, and Will was proud of him every time he called Will “dear” and didn’t hesitate before or after.

Nico had started masking his emotions at some point during his time at Westover, whatever he had done there hadn’t been much more than how much the average person masked their feelings, but when he started training with Minos Nico had doubled down on keeping his emotions secretive. Minos hadn’t been kind or safe in any sense of the word, emotions were what he used to manipulate Nico all that time, it was no wonder Nico developed such a strong sense of apathy towards anything overtime.

Nico could be affectionate, he could be the most loving person to ever exist. Nico’s emotions were sort of like secrets, if you stayed awake late enough into the night you would only come to know him then, such was the nature of him. He often whispered so quietly his wants and needs into the dark, there was some sense of fear tied to Nico’s vulnerability and he handed off his worries each night to the stars soft glow. Nico often refused to talk openly during the day, but at night apologies and truth always came, he had known what he had wanted earlier he had simply been to afraid of the rejection to acknowledge it, Will is glad that with the years the worst of such things is over; it is unlikely to be something Nico will ever fully grow out of, such is the nature of humanity, but progress is a virtue.

Such times not only resulted in Nico’s acknowledgement of his wants and faults, but also garnered the most affection from Nico. Nico couldn’t always communicate in an effective manner verbally, which was still a process they were working on, but he did his best. Nico’s act of love was like that of a small bird, he gave you small things that seemed insignificant until you realized he had only ever told you such things. Will fell in love with him for it, it wasn’t just about the way he would describe the wallpaper in his childhood bedroom, it was the fact that nobody knew anything else about Nico’s childhood bedroom.

Will had never truly understood the concept of “touch starved” until he met Nico, he had known the definition sure, but he had never truly witnessed it. Nico never asked for touch, but it was the way he leaned into it, the way he sought it out; pressing up against Will’s hand like a cat stretching trying to get a little more contact somehow, trying to make the touch last just a bit longer so he could savor it properly. It was literally starving in some manner, starving for contact that wasn’t a goodbye or a hit, just for wordless contact. When he grew comfortable he gave affection fully, there was a joy in holding Nico’s hand, knowing that he felt safe enough not to worry about the effect a few extra seconds of prepping for a fight that holding hands would add.

Nico didn’t show affection in big ways, and that was more than okay with Will; they were laid back in comparison to most, he’d have sought the comfort of placing soap bubbles on each others head in the tub a hundred times over a night on the town. Nico’s affection was something quiet and almost secretive, unknown to anyone it wasn’t directed at; it was the way he would lead Will out of a room to kiss him, or the quiet way he whispered “I love you” into Will’s ear when in public.

Will supposes in the early days “shut up” became “I love you” in order to avoid being seen as weak in some manner, in order to avoid acknowledging what he really wanted to say and having Will not respond in kind. Will didn't mind, they weren't an overly affectionate pairing- banter was common, almost everything they did was turned into some sort of game, the term "boys will be boys" definitely applied to their relationship of 3am pillow fights, late night discussions about what order the Christmas ornaments had to go up on the tree in, and whenever they wrote thesis papers for living room debates over the best Disney villain.

Will honestly preferred it that way, he preferred having the little moments reserved for solely them. He preferred the aversion to sappy clichés, the way a lover could say your name with exasperation and a smile that meant the whole world. He had seen what some other couples had, quick kisses in lines at cafes, holding hands across the table, and calling each other pet names they’d made up that were somehow ten times worse than the original- and Will didn’t want that.

It wasn’t that what those couples had wasn’t love, it just wasn’t love in a way Will could understand, it wasn’t love Will felt from those sort of exchanges. He didn’t understand the idea of “butterflies in your stomach”, love wasn’t nerves, love was like coming home after a long day, love was the way someone could say your name like it was divine, love was the way someone would smirk at you when you were missing the point, love was not being afraid to cry in front of them, it was knowing you could show up to them with any problem and instead of leaving you they would research the ins and outs of it in all their entirety.

The coffee maker makes a sound, Nico lifts his head of off Will’s body and the deep browns of his eyes are like the freshly turned dirt of fields in planting season, and Will feels like there’s a garden growing in his chest that Nico feeds. Nico sits straight on the counter and pulls his legs up and sits cross legged on the counter as he pulls out his hairband, and runs his fingers through his hair before pulling it back up without all the flyaways.

Will moves towards the coffee machine, pours it into two cups, and sets one on the counter beside Nico before making his way to the fridge to grab creamer. Nico’s watching him right now, but there’s no need for talking; there will be talking in a minute. Talking about Will’s schedule for the week, talk of whatever project Nico is working on right now, talk of what they should do for dinner the rest of the week, little sweet nothings, and eventually they’ll make their way to the couch to watch some tv and maybe later in the day they’ll play some sort of game or something as well.

So yeah, maybe "light" and "dark" were polar opposites and some people would have walked out on the word dumbass rather than immediately loving it, but Will liked it- everyday was a game of sorts, a new adventure, all with Nico who he loved. Coming home from work wasn’t necessarily about the place Will lived but knowing Nico would be there for him to see was the point of going home, home was wherever Nico was and some small part of Will hoped eternity was real in some manner.

Will remembered when Michael had died thinking nothing could possibly get worse, and in some ways he was kind of right; he had ended up with some sort of demigod style fairy tale ending with the man he loved, and that was ten times better than anything fifteen year old Will would have hoped for.

#solangelo #Nico di angelo #Will solace #pjo #hoo

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