#to be fair this isn’t really gossip it’s just someone being outed for being terrible

[vigilantejustice]

i don’t go even go here but the leaked video of olivia wilde begging shia labeouf to stay in her new movie when she literally just did an interview claiming to have fired shia to keep florence pugh safe is SO messy

[autisticgayngel]

Canonverse Castiel-centric/pining/loving Cas fics

some of these are Dean's POV and a lot are alternating POV, but all of them really delve into Cas's emotions and his love for Dean. All canonverse and all happy endings. Categorised by post-confession, pre-s15 curtain fic and other canon-era. Descending word count within each category. If anyone has any recs for things I should add lmk!

Post-Confession Fics

things happen (they do, they do, and they do) by sobsicles 28k rating E

Everyone has recced this, and for good reason, it's stunning. Cas gets back from the empty and Dean sort of lets him down gently and is very worried about breaking his heart. Despite this Cas is finally able to express to Dean how much he loves him and takes full advantage of this. He's earnest and sweet and so intense about it, but also incredibly hurt about the lack of reciprocation, though he tries to hide it. He does get the love he deserves in the end and it's so good!

closer (isn't close enough) by fleeceframe 18k rating E

Again, Dean's POV, but very much focused on how much Cas loves him. Has the gorgeous Cas line: “When you are hungry, you eat. When you are tired, you rest. When you are dirty, you bathe. But what are you supposed to do with love?”

My unintended by DeanaWinchester, Jeanne_de_Valois 10k rating E

Really good Cas POV, he’s obsessive and insecure but also deeply loving.

my heart a compass by lagaudiere 10k rating T

The empty torments Cas with visions of Dean and of the family he longs to have with Dean. Dean saves him.

I said show me something by ilovehowyouletmefall 7k rating E

Sparked by the debate about whether or not Dean thinks Cas can feel. Cas is hurt by Dean saying he thought he couldn't feel and vulcan mind melds to show him exactly how he feels about him. It's a really interesting exploration of both of their feelings and fears.

Gift by thisisapaige 2k rating G

Very sweet little fic of them trying to work things out once Cas returns from the empty.

Pre-s15 Curtain Fics

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden 95k rating E

Dean tries to retire with his family but finds himself alone as Sam and Jack take a road trip and Cas goes hunting in order to prove he's still useful as a human and to avoid thinking about his feelings for Dean. Really agonising and harrowing at the start as they both feel so rejected and miserable. Cas gets into situations where monsters use his feelings for Dean to attack him. Eventually, they're able to tentatively work out their feelings and settle down together and it's very sweet.

Morning Glory by edgarallanrose 26k rating E

Dean and Cas retire together. Cas becomes a beekeeper and Dean starts to use the honey he makes to bake goods, which they sell at the farmer's market. Cas is very much in love with Dean but it takes Dean a bit longer to work things out.

Other Canon-era

A Winter's Tale by NorthernSparrow 64k rating T

This one hurts a lot, so fair warning for that. Cas falls ill while human and homeless and is hospitalised. Dean finds the journal Cas kept as he struggled to survive in this time. Pre-Destiel but Cas does write a lot about his feelings for Dean. Sam and Dean shower Cas with love and kindess as he recovers. Also a destiel epilogue that is very sweet and fluffy.

In the Shadow of your Wings by Enochian Things (Salr323) 57k rating E

Cas confesses his love to Dean post s11 finale but the timing is terrible and Dean is very repressed about it all and breaks Cas's heart. Cas gets an Italian man of letters boyfriend in an attempt to get over it and Dean is insanely jealous (which Cas is oblivious to) but they all have to work together to try to save Sam from the BMOL. Dean eventually gets his shit together and treats Cas the way Cas has learnt to understand he deserves.

That Black Dog Ache by SaltyWords (agent4hire22) 28k rating E

This is very much Dean's POV but I'm putting it here anyway because it has a really intense love confession from Cas, which I'll include an excerpt of that drives me insane:

'“I listen to your music, and I close my eyes. I try to imagine I’m in the Impala, hunting with you. And, sometimes,” his throat jumped, “I lay on your bed. I think about what it would be like if I got to have a place on it beside you... If you ever let me get close enough.”'

Kelp!I Need Somebody by andimeantittosting (Saylee) 27k rating E

A really sweet fic in which Sam, Dean and Cas go to investigate a case on Jesse and Cesar's ranch. Switching POV with really good mutual pining as they tentatively begin to realise the other feels the same.

Being Dean Winchester by Anonymous 26k rating E

Set early s4, Cas has to possess Dean temporarily. While doing this, he has to work to hide his feelings from Dean. Cas is already obsessed with Dean and in love with him but is embarrassed by it and struggles to keep Dean from seeing all of this, especially when Dean wants to have sex with someone while Cas is possessing him.

Après by imogenbynight 24k rating E

Set after the angels fall in s8. Cas falls to earth in Paris and realises he's in love with Dean. Dean comes to get him and they find love together in Paris.

desiderium, lost by atlasian 20k rating T

Castiel confesses his love for Dean and Dean tells him to move on. Cas tries, fairly unsuccessfully, before Dean gets it together.

No Other Worthy Quest by MajorEnglishEsquire 15k rating E

Cas just loves Dean very much.

'“For fuck's sake,” his skin is heating. Cas can feel it. “Stop saying lovey-dovey shit.”

“I know,” Cas rolls his eyes. “It’s so mortifying for you when I want to tell you I love you. I’m using all my self-restraint, I promise not to embarrass you.”'

The Arrow by jscribbles 12k rating T

Valentine's day and Cas has been hit by a Cupid's arrow and is literally sick with love for Dean.

and all this devotion by dothraki_shieldmaiden 10k rating M

Dean gets hurt on a hunt and Cas takes care of him in a cabin. Very sweet, delightful Cas POV of him being very much in love.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits 10k rating E

Cas struggles to work out why Dean deems some things meaningful and some things worthless, and where he fits into this apparent dichotomy. Really gorgeous and agonising Cas POV that deals with their constant issue of Dean just wanting Cas to stay and Cas wanting Dean to want him to stay but they're both too afraid to express it.

Breathe by turningthepages 9k rating G

Dean and Cas platonically sleep together to help with Dean's sleep. Cas both likes the situation and longs for it to mean more.

First Date by aeli_kindara 9k rating T

Dean asks Cas on a date and they're both trying very hard to make it all work. The sequel is stunning too.

'Dean says, “We should do that. Go on a date.”

Something in Castiel’s chest fuzzes, like static on a TV, and stops.'

weights on my ankles by dothraki_shieldmaiden 9k rating M

After 15x3 The Rupture, Cas goes back to Rexford. While there, he thinks about how Dean hurt him all those years ago and how he hurt him more recently. Partly a 9x6 Heaven Can Wait fanfic-gap fic.

Let it Linger by OmniscientOranges 8k rating M

Cas starts sleeping with men out of jealousy when watching Dean pick up women at bars. The way the fic describes how in love he is and how hopeless he feels about it is both agonising and very sweet.

He Thought He Was Reckless by MajorEnglishEsquire 8k rating M

Cas plays up injuries so that Dean will coddle him. Self-woobification from the Angel of the Lord and it's so sweet!

Something to Protect by Sass_Master 6k rating G

Cas tries to work out how to make Dean feel less unsafe so that he no longer has to jolt awake. Sweet, tentative intimacy and Cas enjoying it so much.

lonely hearts. by outpastthemoat 5k rating G

Deals with Cas accompanying Sam and Dean on hunts and feeling incredibly lonely and longing to be with Dean. He finds solace in romance novels.

Some People Would Call This Romantic by almaasi 5k rating G

Human Cas goes to the beach and finds it rather overwhelming. Taking a romantic walk with Dean along the beach is also overwhelming.

The Tea is Decaf by mnwood 4k rating T

Really sweet! Cas and Eileen talk and gossip about Sam and Dean in the bunker at night over tea.

A Place to Rest by Inessencedivided 3k rating G

Dean and Cas talk through things after the Stuck in the Middle with You love confession. Cas cries some more.

White Noise by domesticadventures 2k rating G

Cas struggles with feelings of worthlessness in the aftermath of Lucifer's possession.

Receipts by surlybobbies 1k rating G

Cas writes little notes about how much he loves Dean on receipts from meals they share together. Dean finds them.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

sir, ma’am, person, or other pronouns, you cannot just post good writing ideas right before I sleep /j

I’d like to see that golden house prompt as a short story,,, possibly????😳

-💃

spoiler! i ain't good at choreographing fights but uh i THINK i was poetic enough so it still sounds cool??? hope that's ok!! this is also inspired by some of the brainrot i've been having and getting in the past few days so i can definitely make a part two!! also normal Childe’s there for a bit original prompt was of FL Childe injuring you during the golden house fight!! read Part Two here!!: The Sky’s Tears ~ * ~ Golden House is Falling Down Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Angst Warnings: Worrying, descriptions of anger, fighting (battles), a corpse, allusions to blood, pain, potential death, lightning, electrocution

~ * ~

Sometimes Childe worried you. It came with his job, you supposed. You were well aware of his status as a Fatui Harbinger, although you’ve never personally seen him at work- it had been a casual accident when you walked into him discussing plans with his subordinates. The two of you hadn’t been close back then, only acquaintances, and he made you swear to secrecy. Well, technically he had threatened you, but you didn’t particularly mind. You weren’t as in love with Liyue as some of your friends were, and you, unlike many people, understood the importance of a well-paying job. Having his position exposed to the public could very well get him fired. Those had been your concerns, so long ago. But now, as you hurried after the Traveler in all their glory, those pitiful worries seemed so far away, replaced instead by anxious thoughts flurrying by about life and death. You weren’t anyone of particular importance in the harbor, but you always made sure to pay careful attention to any rumors and gossip you heard. You always took them with a grain of salt, of course, but you had long ago learned that it was good to keep things you heard in your mind as potential possibilities. Liyue had a habit of having “impossible” events happen anyways. It really got on your nerves sometimes. Last week’s whispers had been full of a Fatui plan about meddling with the panicking government, after Rex Lapis had allegedly fallen from the sky, his status as the oldest living archon gone. Seeing that the Fatui’s reputation wasn’t particularly good, you had filed the thought away to consider later. A few days later, it came true. And Childe seemed to vanish into thin air, shifting your worries instantaneously over to him. It was funny, how close the two of you had gotten in the weeks he’d been in Liyue. At least, you were close to him. The Traveler was kind enough to let you accompany them to the famed Golden House, just to cover all possible leads. Their steps are light and quick as you approach the elegant building, all lined with gold and jade, and you can almost hear the tinkling sound of mora within. The Traveler stares up at the enormous door, clutching their sword. They seem prepared for a fight. You gulp, hoping that their stance is just how they stand as a default. The doors to the Golden House swing open, and the Traveler gestures for you to follow them, a determined look in their eyes. You enter together, and momentarily you’re distracted by the piles of mora scattered around the floor- probably more mora than you’d see in your entire life. Your eyes scan the room as the glimmer of coins snatches your attention, a tendency that friends and family had always teased you lightheartedly about- they’d call you a crow or a magpie. You didn’t mind being a bird. It sounded fun, to fly away from all your problems. Finally your gaze lands on the corpse of Rex Lapis, floating in the center-back of the room like a morbid decoration put on display. Despite it being very, very dead, it emanates an aura of power, and you involuntarily shiver, the temperature seeming to drop by a few degrees. Suddenly you hear the great doors of the Golden House slam shut, and someone’s voice questions why they, the Traveler, still lingered. The three of you, little Paimon included, turn in surprise. It’s Childe, the very person you were fretting over and looking for. You sigh quietly in relief, but your fleeting moment of calm is quickly dashed as the Traveler silently challenges him to a duel. Hastily you scramble to get out of the way, and just barely find yourself “out-of-bounds” when the arena for their fight flares to life as they both ready their weapons. Childe retrieves his bow with a twisted smile, a counterpart to the Traveler’s iron stoicness. But it seems his gaze lingers on you, and softens for a brief moment, something you tell yourself is just your imagination, because you doubt he was ever your friend to begin with. As someone whose work isn’t associated with adventuring, your knowledge of combat is limited, but even you can see the

skill of both the Traveler and Childe as their blades clash. Several times a burst of elemental energy strikes the burning walls of the arena, and you’re thankful for the barrier between you and them, because you have very little chance of surviving the power of their abilities. When Childe’s clothes darken and the mask falls over his face, you remember hearing something about a far more powerful and dangerous version of Visions- Delusions, items the Tsaritsa, Cryo Archon and ruler of Snezhnaya, rewards to her most loyal and deserving followers. Childe’s is Electro, and the crackle of static energy he slashes towards the Traveler makes your hair stand on end. You shield your eyes from the bright lights dancing around the arena, and when you reopen them, Childe has disappeared. And he reappears next to Rex Lapis’ corpse. Several things happen at once. The Geo Archon’s Gnosis is gone, taken by neither the Harbinger or the Traveler. Paimon looks worried, the Traveler looks shocked, and Childe enraged- You blink and he’s changed. Suddenly several feet taller, he now floats, some sort of terrible creature you’ve never seen before. Everything is loud, too loud, and you clap your hands over your ears, as the floor breaks away beneath you. And you fall with the Traveler and Paimon into the chamber below. You feel something catch you- an enormous clawed hand- and set you down more or less gently into a single large room. The room is the arena, an arena you stand in with no escape. The Gnosis is gone, and Childe is a monster, one of both Hydro and Electro and a foreign, starry magic that makes your skin crawl. And the battle only continues. Luckily the Traveler is adamant on staying away from you, drawing Childe’s attacks to the other side of the arena entirely, and for a majority of the fight the most you have to do is dodge falling arrows and water amalgamations. Childe’s furious questions about the Gnosis soon fade into hisses and growls as he loses himself more and more into the horrible joy of battle. You lean over, coughing slightly from the water that splashed you as a consequence of his attacks and the exertion from dodging and keeping your balance in the Hydro-soaked room. The Traveler screams, and you look up too late as a burst of electro slashes across your chest. Then everything goes white and high pitched, your senses bursting alongside the elemental energy as it runs up your damp skin and clothes. The pain from the combination of Hydro and Electro in your veins brings tears to your eyes, and it’s only amplified around your torso as you vaguely feel something warm and sticky dripping down. Someone shakes you, panicking, calling your name, but everything is white, cold noise. The sounds around you are muffled as the battle slows to a halt, and all you hear is ringing. Another hand, sharp and clawed, brushes against your arm, but it retreats when someone starts shouting. A blade is brandished as someone yells at a monster to stay away, he’s done enough damage, how dare he, and you hear a mournful, desperate chitter through the haze of static. Ah, that curious sound, it makes your heart ache. But what, or who, is it? The sword slices through the air as the monster is pushed away by a blonde-haired Traveler’s rage, and it soon joins into the pitching, ringing note in your ears before it tapers into silence and sorrow, leaving only the inky abyss of darkness crawling up to your eyes as the pain fades into weightlessness. This time, you let yourself fall. In the harbor, the Fair Lady is informed that the Golden House is falling down, falling down.

[hannigramficrecs]

Newly Added Fics 5/16

Hello everyone, sorry again for the slight hiatus! I’ve replied to all the messages in my inbox (at least the ones that were sent to me before this past friday), so if you asked me something before that, be sure to check out my replies!

As usual, I’ve emboldened the fics I really liked and italicized the ones that are incomplete.

Looks Like Love by luvkurai [words: 5,987] — (AU)

After his sister's wedding, Will kisses his childhood housekeeper (and first love).

Betrothed by slashyrogue [words: 3,932] — (AU)

In one month he would marry a total stranger.

Titan Arum by ProxyOne [words: 64,614] — (AU)

Will is a botanist, working in the greenhouse of the local Botanical Gardens. He is getting his life back on track after his divorce, but he can't help but notice someone who keeps coming back to his greenhouse to draw, day after day. A man who seems to have been paying very close attention to him...

Find Me In The Dark by Rising_Phoenix [words: 40,131] — (AU)

After a fateful accident, the marriage of Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter has reached its end. Grief and the inability to stop them from falling apart has brought an irreconcilable distance between the formerly deeply devoted couple. While Hannibal is apathetic towards his husband, ignores him, and is withdrawn, Will has started an affair with fellow teacher Francis and drowns his desperation in more and more alcohol. 

Light of All Lights by whiskeyandspite [words: 20,377] — (AU)

Dracula-like fic without any of the vampires

The Stage Just For You by CarnivalMirai [words: 6,494] — (AU + Age Gap)

Will has landed himself the role of Odette for world-famous choreographer Hannibal Lecter's rendition of The Swan Lake.

There Will Be Bells by Entropyrose [words: 36,639] — (A/B/O)

In Georgian England, male omegas are very rare diamonds. Baron and Baroness Graham have a plan to build their wealth and social status by offering their son Will's hand in marriage to a mysterious older Duke, an Alpha named Lord Hannibal Lecter. Will's personal feelings need not apply.

Alpha Mart by slashyrogue [words: 63,164] — (A/B/O)

Will needs an alpha. After years of fake knots, half-assed suppressants, and his own damn hand during heats he’s reached the end of his rope. He doesn’t do dating so he decides to waste his life savings and hype with the current trend. Alpha Mart.

Enchanted By Your Name by CarnivalMirai [words: 9,207] — (A/B/O + PWP)

“Now, my husband would prefer it if I got the job done quickly.” He says, slashing down the back of each gag as he passes each man, watching as the silk falls gracefully to the floor. “However, I want to have some fun. Considering you’ve troubled my husband so much… it’s only fair, right?” One of the men whimpered fearfully. Or: The name "Will Graham" is a name you'll only ever hear once.

I've Been Building Black Ships by cloudsarefluffy [words: 8,116] — (A/B/O + AU)

Alpha Hannibal moves to the States with his sister Mischa after being overtly done with the fancy life of a count, and his blind omega neighbor gives him an insight into love that he never quite expected.

A Rare Find by hit_the_books [words: 5,379] — (A/B/O + AU)

Life as an omega bookseller can be quite lonely. However, as the owner of Graham’s Books, Will Graham is reasonably content. That is until he meets—long-time customer and crush—Doctor Hannibal Lecter in person for the first time. Attraction blossoming between them both, Will agrees to a dinner date with the good doctor.

We All Have a Hunger by 1ntothew1ld [words: 12,260] — (A/B/O + Age Gap)

Hannibal will ensure a properly slow and painful death for an alpha who allowed a beautiful young omega to go to waste as this one has. Too skinny for his own good, a stuttering and humble mess. The likes of the omega in front of him belonged at Opera houses and in million-dollar mansions, not scrounging for his next meal. Meek and afraid in some disheveled row house. When he finally looked back up the alpha had to conceal the utter punch to the stomach that meager glance was, blue eyes full of innocence but also hunger.

The Doctor Is In by Kummerspeck7 — (A/B/O + PWP)

Will nearly scoffed. "You can't expect me to believe you'd want anything other than a delicate flower to adorn your side, keep your ostentatious home, bare you the exact number of children you want--No more, no less-- all while being available at your whims." "Not at all." Hannibal disagreed. "I would no more put a wilting flower in my home than in a bouquet given as a gift. Tell me, Will, is that how you are treated? Forbidden from work, cloistered inside and used at Mr Brown's discretion?" "My Alpha's discretion." Hannibal looked pointedly at the curve of Will's neck, free from a single scar. "Not yet he isn't."

Teenage Wildlife by writtenbyizzy [words: 10,163] — (Age Gap + Sugar Daddy)

While reluctantly prowling Grindr for a sugar daddy to pay for his dog Bean's vet bills Will comes across Hannibal, and gets far more than he bargained for.

Just As Poised As I Remember by CarnivalMirai [words: 5,721] — (Age Gap + School)

When Will was in high school he had an incredibly handsome psychology teacher-- tall and sharp with a thick European accent. And now, a decade later, said psychology teacher-turned psychiatrist... just swiped right on him.

We Can Chase the Dark Together by K_R_Closson [words: 16,615] — (Fantasy)

Will tips him and Hannibal off the cliff. Instead of hitting the water, he wakes up in his bed, several years in the past. His first, and only, priority is to find Hannibal again.

We Killed a Dragon Last Night by inameitlater [words: 88,150] — (Fantasy)

Will remembers falling. He wakes up months before Jack got him to work for him. Months before he met Hannibal for the first time. Free from his past he decides to change events and meet Hannibal again.

My Only Constant Is You by TheSilverQueen [words: 25,369] — (Fantasy)

Hannibal Lecter is an immortal who can never die. Will Graham is a time traveler who can never stay in one place. Perhaps that is why they are perfect for each other.

Motinos Kalba by Lyla_Joy [words: 6,040] — (Fluff)

Five times Hannibal Lecter spoke Lithuanian on accident and one time he meant too.

You Make Me Feel (Good) by sourweather [words: 7,190] — (Fluff)

Will Graham has sensory issues. The world gets too loud, he gets overstimulated easily, but most of all he hates being touched. He never expected someone to work so hard to make him comfortable, to be so patient with him.

Pick Me Up by sourweather [words: 6,053] — (Fluff)

Will doesn't go to bars much. He doesn't end up needing a ride home much. But when he does get drunk, he always wants to ask Hannibal to pick him up.

Hard to Get by JSinister32 [words: 5,561] — (Jealousy)

Will and Hannibal had been broken up for six months. When confessions are made during a work function, can they find it within themselves to forgive?

Polar Opposites by Lyla_Joy [words: 19,513] — (Kidnapping)

“Says the cannibalistic serial killer who knocked me out and is now holding me hostage,” sassed Will. The Ripper didn’t smile but his eyes crinkled in the corner. “Please call me Hannibal.”

Fate Is A Keen-Eyed Hound by LydiaFearing [words: 5,890] — (Mischa)

Hannibal may be a successful, charming psychiatrist but Mischa worries that her brother is lonely so she gifts him a puppy. Hannibal reluctantly falls for his little dog but wants to get involved with time-consuming FBI work and not just anyone can be allowed to look after his pet. Luckily, Alana can recommend a boarding kennel in Wolf Trap.

The Significant Other: The Will and Hannibal Edition by house_of_lantis [words: 18,431] — (Murder Husbands)

After their terrible and abrupt break up, Will and Hannibal attempt to maneuver through their social circles, side step ongoing gossip, and deal with the fact that Will knows the truth of Hannibal. Through impossible odds, Will and Hannibal do find their way to each other again.

Dancing with the Beast by proser [words: 86,347] — (Murder Husbands)

In order to catch a mediocre serial killer, Will must pose as Hannibal's date for a series of pretentious social events. Hannibal is dramatic and jealous as ever, and Will is having a great time without the encephalitis. Of course, it's a love story.

Arriving at the Crossroads by HigherMagic [words: 7,558] — (Mpreg)

"You haven't been my psychiatrist for a long time," Will echoes. "But you've been my friend. You've helped me. With…" He gestures vaguely to his head. "When my brain was on fire. On consults. When it's dark and I need a guiding light." "It pleases me very greatly to be a source of comfort and reassurance for you, Will," Hannibal says. "I have wanted to be that for you, for a long time."

The Hanged Man by justhavesex [words: 13,076] — (Mpreg)

Will Graham had never wanted children before, but he had never considered it to be a consequence of his omegan brain not finding anyone worthy, but the moment he had met Hannibal Lecter he had been filled with want. In which a dinner party one-night stand results in a pregnancy that changes Will's entire life.

I Don't Even Like Lana Del Rey by perpetuallycaffeinated [words: 4,328] — (PWP)

The tension and low thrum of arousal were making Will speak impulsively. He knew this, but he’d just finished his drink. There was nothing he could use to stop the question, blunt and presumptuous and rude. “So, what, you’re my daddy?”

A Bad Combination In The Dark by perpetuallycaffeinated [words: 1,957] — (PWP)

When a nerve wracked Will Graham accidentally cuts his hand on Dr. Lecter's letter opener, things quickly get out of control.

The Best Bait by sourweather [words: 3,327] — (PWP)

Will is a good fisherman, he knows which bait to use for his catch. Will seduces Hannibal at a party by being sexy.

Whimsy by justheretoreadhannibalfics [words: 3,001] — (School)

Doctor Hannibal Lecter is standing in as a teacher while Professor Graham is out of town on a case. The students start to kind of like him, and become very invested in his love life.

Callipygian by ProxyOne [words: 2,260] — (Season 1)

Hannibal has a lot of sketches of Will, which he normally keeps safely away. One day though, Will shows up unexpectedly and Hannibal is caught unawares, and unprepared.

L'appel Du Vide by sourweather [words: 5,413] — (Season 1)

Will is hiding things from his coworkers. From himself. But Doctor Lecter knows.

Friends Don't Frame Friends: A Lesson for a Clueless Cannibal by LadyFelixTristis [words: 5,041] — (Season 1)

Ear? What ear? Will Graham doesn’t try to thwart Hannibal Lecter’s plans for him. He just does. By accident. And then on purpose.

For All My Pride, You Were the Fall of Me by nobetterlove [words: 13,212] — (Season 2)

After being released from the BSHCI, Will grabs the dogs he can't live without and leaves without a trace

Letters to God by CarnivalMirai [words: 4,698] — (Season 3+)

Will writes letters to Hannibal every day after his incarceration. But they never make it.

Blankets, Coffee Cups, and Christmas Morning by sourweather [words: 6,352] — (Season 3+)

Hannibal wants to enjoy the domesticity. The love, the closeness, the being Known. But something about his life with Will makes him want to lash out.

All These Fictionary Tales by ProxyOne [words: 18,492] — (Season 3+)

After the fall, Hannibal is presumed dead. Will has been declared dead. But Will isn't willing to believe that Hannibal would just abandon him like that 

Seduction by BloodunderMoonlight [words: 7,086] — (Season 3+)

“For fuck’s sake, Hannibal.” Will glared at him, brimming with wrath he had only seen behind Will’s gun. He had no doubt Will would draw out a knife from beneath the duvet or pillows, but clearly words were enough to make him gobsmacked—“Are you a fucking virgin or monk? If all these can’t get you to bed then I don’t know what can.” Hannibal stood gaping at Will.

Blood, Cedar and Dog Hair by sourweather [words: 3,351] — (Season 3+)

Something terrible happens while Hannibal is in prison. Something he never prepared for.

Hidden Potential by sourweather [words: 20,789] — (Soulmates)

The first time you make eye contact with your soul mate, you see a vision of their greatest accomplishment. They call it your Peak. Unfortunately for Will Graham, his soul mate's Peak is a vision of blood and horror. Fortunately for Hannibal Lecter, his soul mate's is too.

Karoliai by slashyrogue [words: 4,577] — (Sugar Daddy)

Will works at a jewelry store. He has worked there for three months and sold less than any other person there. His boss tells him to sell something by the end of the day or he may not have a job tomorrow. If there was one thing Will hated more than having to talk people into buying jewelry they didn’t need, it was trying to do it two days before Valentine’s Day.

[writingabouteverything]

The Perfect White Flower--and Other Nonexistent Things

a/n YALL THIS IS PROBABLY DUMB BUT I HAD THIS IDEA ABOUT A HARRY STYLES X READER FIC THATS BASED ON THE PLOT OF JANE THE VIRGIN AND I WANTED TO WRITE IT SO BADLY I MADE THIS ACCOUNT

disclaimer--wont follow the show exactly 

Pairing: Harry Styles x latina! reader (a key factor of the show revolves around the lead being latina, and im latina and honestly love writing for us but anyone can still read and understand/hopefully enjoy and the fic doesn’t involve any physical descriptions:)) 

Series Summary: Y/n l/n has had the world figured out since she was a child. She won’t be a writer because it’s risky, she’ll just focus on school and becoming a teacher. She’s never been a child, because her mother had her at sixteen and hasn’t aged a single year since. That’s part of the reason the promise she made to her grandmother means so much to her--if she doesn’t have sex before marriage, her child will never have to grow up as quickly as she did. And Harry Styles is at the top of the world--his music has never been more successful, he has a lovely girlfriend, and he’s never been more in demand. He has everything in the world...except a child, and through a series of unbelievable events--y/n might be his only chance to have one. Ever. 

Chapter One Summary: Who knew getting a pap smear on two hours of sleep and three cups of coffee was as bad as having unprotected sex? 

There’s something dangerous about taking public transportation in LA. And no, I don’t mean it in the ‘there are bad people in the world’ type of way. I mean it in the ‘I live in one of the casual influencer, celebrity, tourist hubs of the world and each time I step onto the bus I find myself mesmerized by all the stories I see in them’ way. Kind of pathetic, I know, but sometimes a child with blonde pig tails or a woman streaming on instagram live will catch my eye and the urge to pull out my lap top and start something I’ll never finish. 

I know that writing isn’t some kind of disease. But I can’t let myself fall in love with it the way I want to. There’s nothing wrong with writing a short story or two, but trying to write a novel? That’s impractical. It will distract me from school, from the four year plan I’m almost done with.

Sighing, I brave taking at my surroundings. I deserve this today, after the anonymous, rude costumer at the hotel today, I need positivity. No one is particularly inspiring. The bus stops and I watch out the window. At first the crowd is ordinary, and then i see them...paparazzi. Flashing cameras from all angles, grown men violating all rules of personal space. It never sits right with me, but I guess it’s just part of living in LA. The bus starts moving again. When it stops again, I see even more paparazzis, but their cameras aren’t flashing. Good for whoever escaped that. 

The bus door opens and I snap my attention back to my computer screen. I rub my eyes as I stare at my word document. How is there more that needs to be edited? This professor is the harshest grader I’ve ever had, and my friend, Gisa, is kind for giving me even more notes. But I’m exhausted. Two tests and an essay due before 12:00. And it’s...11:38. Great--I have to upload it the second I’m at my doctor’s office and have WiFi again. 

I spend some time highlighting and rewording sentences, and once I’m done I reward myself with more people watching because I deserve it and I can’t fall asleep here. I’m kind of invested in the girl live streaming her bus ride...maybe she’ll say her instagram handle. 

But when I look up, she’s not on the bus anymore. Almost no one is. An elderly couple is sitting towards the back. A woman with a toddler sit two rows in front of me...and there’s now a man directly across from me. I blink for a moment, imagining a story for someone who’s face I can’t quite see beneath such dark sun glasses. His dark waves and strong jaw do most of the imagining for me--he deserves a mystery, a dramatic one with a happy ending and just enough romance to keep the people interested. A good romance, too--not too sappy. Enemies to lovers, maybe. A mysterious stranger that’s not really a stranger because something about him is just...familiar. 

He turns his head and I drop my gaze immediately. There’s no doubt he caught that, but I still pretend to edit the title of my essay. “You’ve been typing stubbornly since I first got on the bus.” There’s an accent--of course he’s english. But it’s more than that, I’ve heard that voice before. I’ve been...soothed by it. And--oh my god, I’m sitting across from Harry Styles.

Okay, don’t freak out. Don’t freak him out. He’s probably on here to escape the the whole ‘oh my god, you’re Harry Styles!’ thing.  

“What are you writing?” Harry Styles just spoke to me. I greeted my one direction poster every single day in middle school, and Harry Styles just spoke to me. Okay--relax, breathe--it’s only weird if you make it weird. 

There’s a kind of curt curiosity to his question. He could have been ruder, considering how blatantly I was staring at him. “I um...an essay.” I’m temped to turn the screen so that he can see I’m telling the truth. Though he wasn’t hostile, a part of me is paranoid that he thinks I am writing about him. It’s a fair assumption, for all he knows I’m drafting a tweet about who I saw on the bus this morning or preparing to send something in to some gossip girl-esque blog. “It’s due today at noon and normally I’m way more on top of things, but I had this last minute doctor’s appointment rescheduling because my usual doctor is out of town and--” I cut myself off before I can tell Harry Styles that I’m ovulating and that if I don’t go to my OBGYN now, I have to wait an entire month and I’ve already been off birth control longer than I’d like. I might not have actual sex in my near future, but my cramps have been extra terrible. “An essay, I just finished an essay.”

He nods once. Maybe he feels bad for so thoroughly startling me into such a rambling, because the corner of his mouth tilts upwards. A soft smile adds even more grace to his features, I focus on the dimple that appears in his cheek. “An aggravating essay, I take it, considering the death glares you’ve been giving your laptop screen.”

I smile at his polite humor. “It’s for the harshest grader on campus. She took three points off of my first essay freshman year because I spaced my bibliography wrong.” 

He cringes in sympathy. “Good luck.” 

“Thanks,” I hum, proud of myself for not letting him know that I know who he is. The bus stops, I can see my doctor’s office behind a few paparazzi. “This is my stop.” 

Harry nods once, ducking his head slightly. A tiny part of me feels sympathy for him; from what I’ve gathered, he genuinely loves his fans and the relationship they have, but it must be draining to never have a moment of privacy. Especially when it’s people who care more about selling your picture than your mental health. 

I linger on the bus’s step, watching the men with large cameras look around. “Excuse me, are you guys looking for Harry Styles?” Most of the men disregard me, but one looks at me. “I know he’s near here because I’m a really big fan and my friend just texted that she saw him.” This gets me the attention I wanted. “He’s at Northfield--a cafe like three blocks down. I just know that if she got a picture with Harry in like a magazine or something she’d totally lose it--in a good way, and she’s been having a bad time so if you see her can you try to make it happen? Knowing her she’ll be at his side, she’s blonde, shortish hair.” 

The men seem skeptical, but I guess they realize that this is the best lead they have. I think the fact that I gave a reason to justify selling Harry out for no reason helped. They disperse together, heading at least three blocks away from Harry. I don’t know if I’ve actually helped him, but I hope I have. 

“Essay girl.” I freeze, half cringing. Did he hear that? That’s embarrassing. I consider darting away, but decide that would just make me cringe more. So I turn on my heels. “You...you forgot your phone.” 

He just saved my life. “Thank you.” I take my phone from his outstretched hand, ignoring the slight thrill that runs through me when our fingers brush. “You’re my hero--the last thing I needed today was to run all over the city searching for my phone.” I finish the awkward admission with a partial laugh. 

“Least I could do,” he mumbles, “especially considering what you just did.” 

...He did see that. “Oh um--it was nothing, I just kind of made a connection and assumed the only reason you’d be on a public bus is because you were trying to avoid some things, and you make really great music and a lot of people happy, so you deserve that break.” Why does it feel like I’ve been talking forever? “Anyways, thanks for the whole phone thing, and I hope I got them off your tail.” 

My joke seems to somewhat land. His lips part, like he’s planning on saying something else. A timer on my phone interrupts him. I instinctually look down--great, the alarm on my phone warning me that I’m only ten minutes away from being late. “I’m late.” I turn towards the bus’s exit. “I gotta go, but thanks again, and I hope you have a good day.” 

I disappear after that, still not sure that that whole thing wasn’t some kind of hallucination. Did I just meet Harry Styles? He...he gave me my phone. Harry Styles has touched my phone. I can’t wait to tell Gisa, she’ll lose it.

I’m still thinking about Harry Styles when I finally reach my OBGYN’s office. When I get there, things are a lot more hectic than I thought they’d be. Many people crowd the waiting area and the receptionist’s desk is clearly understaffed. Two young girls are trying to address multiple upset pregnant women and take phone calls at the same time, all while practically buried in a sea pf paperwork. Wow, I didn’t realize that transferring was such chaos. One of the girls waves me over and barely checks my name before shoving a form towards me. I fill out as quickly as possible. 

 I upload my essay quickly after checking in. Who knows, maybe Harry Styles’s blessing will get me an A? A third person in scrubs emerges from the back after a moment and ushers me into a room. I tell myself to focus on going over the facts I need for the test I have to take in a little over an hour. Or to focus on the fact that I just met Harry Styles. But instead, I feel my heavy eyelids fall shut. 

I don’t know how long I sleep, but I know that I wake up during the middle of a doctor’s sentence, “...I know I’m not your usual, so I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.” 

“Hm...Yeah, yeah I’m comfortable.” She nods once, her wide eyes slightly red. “But I do have a class today in like an hour, so I was wondering if this was going to take longer because of the office’s move?” 

“Oh, no,” she shakes her head. “Just because Dr. Rodriguez gave us no notice before deciding that she no longer wanted to work here...or in the country. Or even live in the US, despite the fact that we just signed a lease on a place together...” Tears well in the stranger’s eyes, pity settles in my stomach. 

“That sounds incredibly complicated, I didn’t mean to rush you.” 

She blinks twice, her expression blanking as she fights against the pain of what’s clearly a terrible break up. “No, no--you have every right. Today is your day and if..honestly, if you’re strong enough to go to a class after this, and do what you’re about to do by yourself, then I’m strong enough to get through today.” 

Um...didn’t realize a pap smear counted as something that needs moral support, but I’ll chalk it up to her heightened emotions. “Thanks.” 

She snaps on her medical gloves. “No, thank you for your patience. Now lay down.” 

I do as told, preparing for a sensation I haven’t often experienced. A moment passes and I know she’s started. She’s moving away from me much faster than expected. Oh--I guess pap smears are a lot shorter than I expected. 

“That’s it?” 

“Yep,” she hums, pulling her gloves off. “Now just take it easy, and hydrate.”

Weird...but that’s like general doctor advice. “Thanks!” 

--

I’ve never wanted to keep a secret from Gisa, but sometimes I really regret telling her I met Harry Styles. It’s been almost a month and I find my mind wandering back to the moment in which our fingers brushed more than I should. Sometimes I let myself wonder what he might have said if my phone hadn’t rang. I was probably just imagining the way his lips parted, but my ind refuses to let it go. 

“...You know it’s kind of sad, I read an interview in which he spoke about the fact that he has some genetic condition that makes it hard to have kids. He has so many godchildren, and I feel like he’d make such a great father.” 

I try to keep up with Gisa’s words, but the dull ache in my head makes it feel so far away. “Yeah...he seemed really patient.” 

Gisa nods, turning to face me. “You alright, you’re looking kinda green?” 

“Yeah...” I reach for my canvas bag. “I think I just...I probably just need some water.” 

My hand grazes the metal of my water bottle and then the corners of my vision blur into blackness. I sway, Gisa’s hand is on my shoulder...and then it all goes black. 

--

I sit uncomfortably on the hospital’s cot. Gisa is a traitor for telling my mom that I fainted. I knew she’d just drag me here--hispanic mothers, they either believe they can cure you with vic’s vapor rub or they want you in the ER. No in between. 

“I know you didn’t want another test, but you’ve been throwing up in the morning for days and now you’re fainting.” 

“Fainted,” I correct, “it happened once.” 

“C’mon, mija, it’s just one doctor’s appointment.” 

Speaking of, an ER nurse returns. “Fainting and nausea spells explained,” he says, glancing at his clipboard, “you’re pregnant.” 

My mom and I can’t help but exchange a look before bursting into laughter. Pregnant. If I’m pregnant then the second coming is here. “That’s impossible, I’m a virgin.” 

He glances at my mom, “maybe we should have this conversation in private.” 

“No, what you say in front of me you can say in front of my mom.” 

My mom raises an eyebrow. “Y/n, did you and that guy from your english class--” 

“No! No, we did not. I am a virgin and there’s no way I’m pregnant.” I glare at the nurse. 

He then ushers me to a bathroom so that I can provide a urine sample. After I’m finished, he shows me a pregnancy test strip. “Pink means pregnant.” I bite my tongue as he tests the strip in my sample. He pulls it out and it’s...it’s bright pink.

“I’m calling my doctor, because this has to be a mistake. It has to be like a hormonal thing.” 

“Exactly, pregnancy hormones.” 

I glare even harder, calling the doctor that I saw last week. “Hello, Dr. Ash? I was wondering if I could get a consultation because I’m in the ER and some crazy doctor is trying to tell me I’m pregnant.” 

Silence on the line for a long second. “...I actually cleared my calendar for you.” 

[sunlight-moonrise]

The Law of Attraction (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader cannot understand how Spencer is in a relationship with someone who is his complete opposite. 

A/N: Hello Everyone!!! Here’s another story from the secret-fic-swap in the Discord server. I tried my hand at a new genre and I like how it came out. A big thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins​ for helping me make this real nice for y’all (this story was also written to her). Enjoy!

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Content Warnings: If you’re a fan of Max or Maxcer, this may not be the story for you. Sacrifices needed to be made for this story to be told. 

Word Count: 4.2K

Masterlist

The thought that the concept of ‘opposites attract’ was only true when it comes to physics. After all, the comparison of people to magnets doesn’t make any sense. If two people are together, there should be some similarities to build an established relationship, right? Without that foundation, the structure will surely crumble back into the fragmented pieces that created it, leaving them cracked and weaker for it.

Compatibility is necessary, yet there is none whenever I look at them. This is the fourth function that he has brought her to, and with each event, I find it harder to look their way. But when I do find them among the crowd, I can’t look away. Like a car crash or thunderstorm ripping tree roots from the ground.

It doesn’t make sense to me, why on earth would Spencer Reid be with a girl like her.

“If you keep staring at her, she might drop dead,” said a sarcastic voice, breaking me out of my reverie. I turned to see Tara with an amused smile occupying her face.

“I just don’t get it,” I mumbled, focusing my attention on the drink in my hand.

“What’s not to get?” she asked, glancing over at the couple in question. “They seem cute together.”

“They have nothing in common. He might as well be talking to some random person in this bar.”

I chugged the remainder of my beverage with desperate hope that the alcohol will somehow make things better in this situation. It didn’t.

“You sound bitter.”

“I am not bitter,” I bit back.

“I didn’t say you were, I said you sound.”

I didn’t respond to her because deep down I knew she was right. I just fiddled with the straw in my now empty glass as Tara continued, “Look, they both like coffee and going to the park, that’s something.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my throat at the thought.

“So do half the people on the administration floor, he might as well have a harem if those are the main qualifications.”

“So what type of person should Spencer Reid have?” she asked, an eyebrow arching up as she focused her attention on me.

“I don’t know. Someone who is family-oriented and loves kids. Someone who doesn’t judge him for his idiosyncrasies. Someone who listens to his rambles and actually responds to them. Someone who he can escape to when things get too tough. Someone who understands when to give him space but will continue to support him unconditionally. Someone who can challenge him and make each day exciting and interesting. Someone who can ke—”

“Whoa there, I didn’t think you were going to give me a whole novel.” If she thought that was a novel, then the rest of what I wanted to say would be considered an encyclopedia. The only one that Spencer would never read.  

“I just want him to be happy,” I relented.

It was the simple truth. Everyone deserves some sort of contentment in their life, but with everything that Spencer has gone through in the past, his happiness should be at the forefront. He always put others before himself. It was time that someone prioritizes his wants and needs for a change.

“And she doesn’t make him happy?”

Not in the slightest. 

But I didn’t want to say that. I was sure half of the team already thought, or knew, that I was infatuated with him. But I didn’t need to give them the satisfaction of a confirmation by talking about this any further. The looks that Tara had been giving me the past few minutes validated my belief that I didn’t need to dig myself into a deeper hole.

“Maybe,” I said, hoping to put an end to the topic.

But just then, I heard a laugh despite how noisy the place was. I knew without a doubt that was Spencer’s laugh – it was the only sound that would demand my attention that quickly. It was the one he used when he felt uncomfortable.

“Excuse me, Tara.”

I didn’t give her a chance to reply before I hopped off the barstool and made my way to where Spencer and his girl were as casually as possible. Jennifer and Penelope were also with them, and it seems as if the three ladies were doing most of the talking.

“….like kids someday?” I heard Pen say. I didn’t need to hear the beginning of the sentence to know what it was about.

“Ehh, certainly not. My nephew is a handful as is, I don’t think I need any more than that one in my life,” she laughed. She, of course, being the ever loving, ever annoying, Max. A quick glance at Spencer's face confirmed that he was bothered by the subject being discussed. If the rest of the ladies were a bit more sober, they’d probably have seen it too.

“Hey guys,” I interrupted, taking my previous seat next to JJ, “I ordered some water for us and some appetizers. Tara is going to bring it over when it is ready.”

Cheers and thank you were shouted across the small table, but there was only one face I cared to pay attention to. Spencer’s mouth was quirked in a sad smile that was meant to hide the discomfort that had already taken root in his heart like an invasive vine.

“Did you place my fries order?” Max asked, garnering my attention. As much as I wanted to ignore her, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t openly be a bitch to her, no matter how much she irked me. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Other than stealing the affections of a man I’d never actually pursued, that is. But I couldn’t really blame her for that one, right? I should’ve jumped on the opportunity before. It was my fault.

“Yup,” I answered quickly with a small fake smile before focusing on the wooden décor of the bar.

“So any plans for Halloween? Assuming we don’t get called in for a case of course,” JJ asked the table.

“There is this pop-up haunted house coming that weekend.” Spencer said, his voice laced with that childlike excitement that made my heart race, “It is near the annual fair, so I’m going to try and do both.”

“Awww, that’s a cute date idea.”

The table was silent for a moment before Max announced, “I probably won’t go. I am not a big fan of anything spooky or… horror. I’ll leave all of that to this guy.”

The table shared an awkward laugh in a poor attempt to lighten the mood.

“Anyway,” I coughed out, attempting to save this poor conversation, “you guys need to hear this terrible joke the bartender told me. So basically, this screwdriver walks into a bar….” and just like that, the topic had been changed.

Tara joined us shortly after and the conversation remained lighthearted for the remainder of the evening. We later said our farewells and readied ourselves to go back home. While I should’ve been sad to leave him, I couldn’t help but feel a bitter joy from the fact that Spencer and Max didn’t talk directly to each other for the rest of the night.

●●●

It’s been a couple of weeks since the last team outing. Rossi must’ve missed us, because he decided to host a dinner at his place to celebrate the ending of a long and tough case. No one was going to pass up the opportunity of free food and wine, especially after dealing with a bunch of cops and detectives with entire tree trunks up their asses.

I was the last to arrive, which was not surprising since I live the furthest away from Rossi. Krystall welcomed and settled me in while informing me where everyone was. What I assumed was a team gathering turned out to be a whole party. There were definitely more than two dozen people occupying the space.

Good god. 

“What’s all this?” I asked as I greeted Rossi in the, thankfully, empty kitchen. Because, of course, Rossi wouldn’t be Rossi if he didn’t take care of all the hors d'oeuvres himself.

“Krystall wanted to celebrate our anniversary,” he sighed, as if this ordeal was somehow troublesome. I had to roll my eyes; he wasn’t fooling anyone. We all knew that Rossi would move mountains for his wife.

Their love was pure and genuine, a perfect example of two people meeting again at the right time and sharing something wonderful with one another. As I reminisced on their beautiful wedding day, a thought came to my head.

“Isn’t your first anniversary coming up in a few months?”

“That’s for our second marriage, this is for the first.” Rossi simply stated with a proud smirk, as if it was standard to celebrate any and all anniversaries in life. I supposed that for him, it was.

“Why do I get the feeling that this was more your idea than Krystall’s?”

“Guilty.”

Classic. Well, I wasn’t going to tell a man what he should celebrate nor how to do so. I wasn’t going to ruin any opportunities to eat some fresh crostini.

Once I made my way back out into the main room, I was able to find my team within seconds. My eyes instantly landed on Spencer’s tall and lanky form. And I would’ve been excited for that, if it weren’t for the familiar woman standing beside him.

Max was there. Hooray.

Usually, I was able to properly prepare myself for seeing her. It actually, unfortunately, took a lot of effort to not be openly hostile to someone I dislike. It wasn’t something I was proud of, but it was true. Typically in a situation like this, I’d avoid the person all night. However, I wasn’t going to allow her presence to influence the night, much less stop me from spending time with one of my closest friends.

“Hey guys.”

“Ahh, you’re finally here,” squealed Penelope, “I already grabbed your favorite drink!” She stepped aside to make room for me in the small gathered circle before handing me the glass.

“So what did I miss?”

They all caught me up on the harmless gossip circulating around the office and the new happenings emerging in everyone’s lives. Everything was going well until I heard the next words from Max, words that felt like a bucket of ice water and lead being poured over my head.

“Well, Spencer and I are moving in together.”

Time slowed down, I was sure it had. Because I was able to gauge everything in a matter of seconds. Tara’s concerning glance my way, her hand reaching out and retreating as if to hold me. Penelope’s joyful appearance over the news, her arms rising quickly causing her wine to slightly spill on Rossi’s floor. Matt expressing congratulations as he roughly patted Spencer on the back.

And Spencer….

Spencer looked like he rather be anywhere but here. His lips were drawn in a too tight smile that I knew was far from authentic. He was tapping his heel against the floor and wringing his hands together.

If this was merry news from the two of them, why did he look like he swallowed a spiked fruit?

The loud clanging of metal against glass brought everyone’s attention to the noisy source. Time returned back to its normal pace at Rossi’s call, thanking everyone for joining in on the celebration and announcing that the food was ready in the dining room.

While everyone cheered and made their way towards the ornate display, I headed to the balcony. It was too hot, too stuffy, too loud inside the house. There was one too many people there.

As soon as I passed through the double doors, I took a deep breath of cool, refreshing air. Everything around me felt muffled. Like I had stumbled into a small pocket universe that only differed from ours by a few notches on the volume knob.

I was thinking too many things, and none of them adding up or making sense in my head. How do you move in with someone you’ve only known for such a short amount of time? What was he going to do with his apartment? With his personal belongings that were scattered and settled on crowded shelves? Why did he look so uncomfortable when she announced it? Did he not want us to know? Did he want to say it himself?

“What are you doing out here?”

As if being brought back to reality by the very same hypnotist who enchanted me in the first place, I became aware that I was not the only one on the balcony. I turned to look at Spencer, taking in his disheveled and tired appearance.

“I just needed some space. I was feeling a bit crowded.” It wasn’t a lie, but my companion and I both knew there was a lot more than just that. Trying to keep the attention off me, I asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you. I saw you come out here dressed like that and wondered what would drag you out into the freezing cold.”

Now that he mentioned it, the breeze was hitting hard. I didn’t notice my body trembling until now. It is funny how you can’t feel much when lost in your own thoughts. The pain was a welcome distraction, I supposed.

Spencer stood next to me and shrugged off the suit jacket he was wearing. I opened my mouth to refuse, but he gave me a pointed look before I could. Instead, I accepted the warm jacket over my body. The scent of cinnamon and spice immediately enveloped my form and I tried to hide the way my inhales grew deeper. Trying to keep him as close as I could for however long he would allow. He kept his hands on my arms, rubbing them up and down the sleeves of the jacket to instill some heat in me.  

“So whatever happened to taking it slow?” I asked bluntly, keeping my eyes on the interesting speck of dirt that had ended up on my shoe. I didn’t feel bad about getting to the point -- There was no way I could subtly ask him what the deal was, and I’d rather not beat around the bush.

“Well, after the whole situation that happened, sh— we decided to pick up the pace of things,” he spoke lowly, as if he was unsure of the words coming out of his mouth.

“Has she even met Diana? Or know about her?” I instantly regretted asking, the angry look he shot my way had me feeling remorseful. But it also answered my question.

Max only knew the surface level of Spencer. She wasn’t aware of all the good, bad, beautiful, and ugly layers that comes with a man like him. She wasn’t the only one to blame, but I wondered how a profiler couldn’t tell that he was hiding those parts from her because he didn’t want to share them with her. He didn’t want her to know, because the knowing made it real.

“I just want the best for you.”

His irritated expression dissolved into a defeated one as he released the breath he was holding.

“I know, I know. It’s just…”

He stopped talking, appearing scared to share his opinions and feelings with me before he remembered that, unlike Max, he never had to hide things from me. He didn’t want to.

“It’s just…” I prodded, hoping he would continue with what he was going to say.

But he just stayed stuck there, opening and closing his mouth multiple times. I could practically see the cogs in his brain whirling as he properly tried to explain. “Well, the thing is that Ma—”

“Spencer?”

We sharply turned our heads to see Max and Tara staring at us. It wasn’t until that moment that I remembered our position. With Spencer’s hands rubbing tenderness heat onto my arms, his jacket over my shoulders and our bodies pressed together to keep warm.

It would be one thing if everything was settled, but this situation was anything but. Max had every reason to be angry. This wasn’t a new thing to her. So when she turned around, she stomped away fueled by the belief that she’d nearly caught her boyfriend committing adultery. Again.

“Fuck,” I heard the man in front of me whisper as he released me back into the cold night.

Still, as he left, he looked back at me. His eyes burned into mine up until he tore them away, making his final decision and hastily running from the balcony. Away from me. Towards her.

Tara and I shared the silence, but she looked at me with those inquisitive eyes, as if I was a client seeking out therapy from her.  

“What?” I hissed, “We were just talking.” I refused to feel guilty over something that I didn’t do. If anyone had done anything, it was Spencer. But at the same time, I didn’t think he was entirely wrong, either.  

“I didn’t say anything,” she muttered, holding her hands up high as a sign of surrender.

“You didn’t have to, I can feel the judgment from here.”

“Look, I’m not judging you. But I do want you to put yourself in Max’s shoes. You guys were gone for a while and she finds you two all over each other.”

“What are you talking about, Tara? Christ, it’s not like I was fucking him on the balcony!”

Although I didn’t intend for my words to be humorous, Tara laughed. I was conflicted on whether it was at me or with me, but it ended up amounting to nothing, anyway.

“Look, the night is young and you need to relax. Come back inside, enjoy the party, and don’t let them bring you down. At least for the next few hours.”

She was right, as she usually was. It was why I usually sought her out as the voice of reason; I knew that despite everything, she would always have my best interest at heart.

“Okay,” I agreed before following her back into the chaotic fray.

I heeded her advice and avoided the couple for the remainder of the night. Shockingly, it was pretty easy, but I was sure it was because they were avoiding me too. There were times, lots of times, where Spencer and I made eye contact, but we’d just as quickly look away, as if we were ashamed of what we have done.

All we did was talk. So why did it feel like something more?

There were also times when I made eye contact with Max, but instead of shame, there was anger and contempt. If looks could kill, like Tara had suggested, I was sure my heart would have given out.

It wasn’t until later in the evening that I saw Max take a cab home while Spencer was still inside the house. No one else but me noticed that they didn’t leave the party together.

●●●

I hadn’t seen Spencer since the incident at Rossi’s a few weeks ago. He had to take his mandatory sabbatical leave and I had to take an abrupt trip back home. What used to be almost daily texts between us became nonexistent in a matter of hours. It was a terrible predicament that I was hoping to fix soon.

As I arrived, I spotted him at his desk. For a long time, I stood there staring at him. If he wasn’t nose deep in a bunch of files, I was sure he would’ve seen me, too. I contemplated on how I should go up to him, but nothing I could think of was good enough to say. 

Hey, I have your jacket, I took it to the dry cleaner’s, so it is all clean. Rid of me like you wanted to be. 

Hi, how were the lectures this time around? Still have a bunch of teens crushing on you?

What’s up, it’s been a while, do you want to get lunch during the break?

I hated that things were awkward, even though I was pretty sure that I was the only one that was making it so. I should have just gone up to him, greeted him, and acted like everything was normal, because everything was normal. Right?

Just when I was about to do so, Emily called us in for a meeting. Impeccable timing.

We had a serial killer case in Louisville, Kentucky. My situation with Spencer was going to the backburner.

During our stay in Louisville, Spencer and I barely interacted. We exchanged notes and passed long messages, but that’s pretty much it. I wasn’t surprised. Our specialties don’t really correlate when we are working on a case. Anytime I did catch some free time, I’d look his way, longing for the opportunity to speak to him. He didn’t look back.

Then, just as the case ended, another chance presented itself. After five days of hardly any proper rest, we finally found the unsub. Everyone was in their respective room catching up on some much needed sleep. Except for Spencer, whose gangly body was tucked away at the bar by himself, a glass of what appeared to be soda in front of him.

Silently, I took the seat next to him, and for a few minutes, everything was quiet. But unlike the usual, comfortable quiet, it was torturous.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

I stared at him, letting the silent communication denote the fact that I knew he was lying to me. Spencer released a sigh and looked at me with eyes more intoxicating than any whiskey that shared their color.

“Actually, no, I’m not okay.”

I was going to ask him what was wrong or if there was anything I could do to help, but before I had the chance to do so, he hastily answered the question I hadn’t asked.

“Max and I broke up.”

I stared at him, my face and mind blank as I tried to comprehend what he’d said. That Max and Spencer broke up. They were no longer together. Spencer was single.

I thought that if this ever happened, I would be happy, elated, jumping at the chance to take her place by his side. But I felt none of those things.

“What happened?” I didn’t want to appear nosy or meddlesome, but I needed to know.

“We were fighting a lot, and I couldn’t take it.”

“Oh.”

“We were… actually fighting about you.”

I sharply turned my head at him, both intrigued and disturbed by the implication that I had anything to do with the failure of their relationship.

“What? What about me?”

“She thought I liked you,” he said while staring straight back at me, daring me to scan through each fleck of gold and green to ensure that he was telling the truth. But his hazel eyes expressed nothing but honesty as he continued, “and she was right. I do.”

“Y-you do?”

All he could do was nod his head, lifting his hand and catching a loose strand of hair before tucking it behind my ear.

“Can I try something?” Spencer shyly requested.

Once again, the universe felt different. I held my breath, trying to wake from the dream. Although he didn’t say it, I had an idea of what he wanted. If the hand on the side of my face and the staring at my lips were anything to go by, I knew what was going to happen next.

I nodded back and closed my eyes. A few seconds passed, the sweetest kind of anticipation. But then I felt the gentle pressure of his lips against my own, sweet and tender. He moved his head to get a better angle while I brought my hands up to cup his face. The roughness of his stubble against the tip of my fingers was a perfect contrast to the softness of him. I could taste the soda he was drinking on his tongue and breathed in the cinnamon scent that seemed sunken into his skin.

When we pulled away, it was full of hesitation. All it took was one look for us to know we couldn’t do this. Not now, not yet. He was still healing from the recent break up and I didn’t want to be a rebound. I didn’t want us to resent one another for jumping into a relationship so soon. We weren’t ready.

We sat there in relative silence, taking in everything that has happened.

“Maybe one day,” he paused “one day we can give it a chance.”

“Yes. I’d like that.” I beamed at him, “And I look forward to that day. Until then, we remain as friends.”

He returned my smile and I realized that it had been a while since I’ve seen his real smile. I missed it so much.

“Friends,” he confirmed.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt relief and comfort. Because I knew everything was going to be okay. I had hope that someday Spencer will get the happily ever after he deserves and he’ll get it with me by his side. One day.

[insomnia-productions]

jonelias fake dating bullet fic

help

So Jon’s about a month into his new position as Head Archivist. it’s… fine. this is fine. gertrude was a mess, clearly, and elias is even more of a mess for allowing things to get this bad, but it’s fine. it’s fine. he’s fine.

yes, really, martin, stop asking,

And he’s - look, he’s always been a diligent person, always very committed to his work, so naturally he would spend every waking minute trying to organize the Archives, and naturally he would forget to sleep once or twice or five times a week, and honestly so what if he hasn’t actually touched his bed in nine days? It’s not like the lack of sleep is impeding his brain function. Much.

So it’s a bright and sunny morning in the Institute, and he’s up in one of the many libraries, looking up something about what may or may not have been a sentient kitchen sponge, and one of the researchers comes up to him looking oddly red and kind of stumbling over her words and oh lord no he’s being asked out

He quickly stutters through a rejection, but instead of just accepting it like a normal person (though, in fairness, what normal person would work at the Magnus Institute?), she asks him why not

like. what the fuck.

And Jon isn’t exactly the nicest or most tactful person, but even he isn’t about to look this woman in the eye and tell her that he just straight up does not like her. he’s not even sure he knows her name. there is a whole realm of possibility as to what reason he could give, like he’s too busy, or he isn’t looking to date anyone right now, but those would sound too much like excuses, wouldn’t they, rather than valid reasons to reject her.

He picks the worst option.

“I’m already seeing someone, actually.”

An eyebrow goes up. She looks him up and down. A second eyebrow goes up.

“Really? Who?”

Fuck. Now he has .2 seconds to make up a love story. He’s too tired for this, and he’s never been one for love stories. What makes for a believable romance? And in that panicked, sleep-deprived instant, his eyes fall on a portrait of Jonah Magnus nestled between two shelves, and somehow that prompts a spectacularly terrible response.

“Uh. Elias.”

Twenty minutes later he’s sitting at his desk in a spiral of anxiety. It’s fine, though, right? That woman will probably keep it to herself, and she’s just some random researcher, there’s no way anyone else will hear about his stupid comment. There’s no way Elias will hear about it - and even if he does, Elias has always been a pretty laid back boss, maybe he’ll even find it funny?

Oh lord he’s going to die  

The next day, everyone has heard about it. Jon can just feel it in the way people’s eyes follow him. Tim and Sasha give him twin funny looks, kind of half-disbelieving, half-amused. Jon slams his office door slightly harder than necessary. He puts it forcefully from his mind, and the day passes without incident. Until.

It’s the end of the day. Jon is walking towards the Institute’s main doors. Half the Institute seems to be there (fair enough, it is closing time), gathered in bunches, talking quietly, eyes flitting to him and away. Tim and Sasha are sitting on their Gossip Couch in the lobby, watching him. Elias is there, and waves him over, holding something that looks like a statement. Of course, today would be the day he decides to get involved in the archives.

Jon begrudgingly walks over. The second he reaches Elias’ side, Tim’s voice rings across the lobby. He’s walking towards them, saying something about hearing the most interesting thing from a woman in research, and how long have they been together?

Elias looks at him. Jon can see the instant when he realizes what’s happened, and, more importantly, he can see the precise moment when Elias decides to make things infinitely worse, because his eyes light up like he’s just been offered a second Christmas.

Elias turns back to Tim and, entirely matter-of-factly, says, “Two weeks.”

Tim, honestly, had not been expecting it to be true.

It’s bad. It’s bad, but… it could be worse. Two weeks isn’t a long time. It’s not like Elias has gone and made up an entire marriage or something. Jon will just put up with his coworker’s teasing for a couple of weeks, and then drop some vague comment about being too busy to date, and an amicable breakup, and that will be the end of the whole ordeal. This is fine.

Jon goes straight to Elias’ office the next morning to tell him just that, ignoring Tim and Sasha’s loud whistles as he reaches that particular set of stairs. He gets through a begrudging thank-you and a short explanation of his game plan, but once he’s done, Elias just folds his hands on his desk and smiles in a perfectly pleasant way that makes Jon feel like a minnow suspended between the open jaws of a shark.

Elias, as it turns out, has a party coming up next month, hosted by the Fairchilds, although Jon doesn’t know that name just yet. It’s an opportunity to garner more funds for the Institute, and he suspects one of the Lukases is going to ask him to it. Elias can’t afford to offend the Lukases, but he would also prefer to avoid getting roped into dating one of them again - (again??) - so why not stretch this fake dating thing out just a little longer.

Well, Jon thinks, there’s no harm in it, really. It’s just a month, just a party. And he does owe Elias for covering for him yesterday. So he agrees.

A week after the party, he’s preparing to drop his breakup comments over tea in the breakroom, when his cousin calls to invite him to her wedding. Bring a plus one! Oh god. He can already hear all the aunties, asking him when he’s going to settle down, why he hasn’t found someone yet. He bites his tongue on the breakup comment, puts his cup down, and walks up to Elias’ office.

It becomes a sort of unspoken agreement. Fake dating isn’t even hard; they’re adults with jobs, after all, not high schoolers spending every waking moment together. It’s an arrangement of convenience, more than anything, and the only thing that changes between them is that Elias visits the Archives more than he used to, and they talk more, and one time at one of Elias’ parties they danced, and it was nice, actually.

Meanwhile, for Jonah’s part, he’s having a baller time. Fake dating is such a small, petty thing, but the scheming that goes into laying out all the right little hints of domesticity, not to mention the fun of walking the line between performing for the others and legitimately flirting with Jon, always just short of anything that couldn’t be explained away - it’s like a fun, relaxing warm-up to his more important schemes.

Plus, he now has an excuse to spend more time with Jon, evaluating and pushing and molding the man who will become his Archive. It isn’t hard - and people like Jane Prentiss and Jurgen Leitner and the not-Them make it all the more easy.

On which note - Jane Prentiss happens. The Archives are in upheaval, someone definitely murdered Gertrude, and Jon is freaking out. Someone - Sasha, this person is Sasha - comes up to him to tell him that he shouldn’t be alone right now. Any good boyfriend would take him home, take care of him after something so traumatic. Elias is sitting next to him, and he gives Sasha a strange, sharp smile, and just as she’d suggested, he takes Jon home. Jon is too caught up in stress and exhaustion and who killed gertrude to remember that Elias is not, in fact, his actual boyfriend.

Maybe some part of him recalls, somewhere between the part where Elias so carefully tends to his wounds and the part where they fall asleep curled around each other, that this is not what fake-dating-at-parties-for-mutual-convenience is supposed to entail, but he’s so tired and there are so many bigger things to worry about than whether or not this is a boundary they shouldn’t cross.

He wakes up with Elias’ arms around him and Elias’ fingers combing gently through hair, and after that the line between fake dating and actually being in a relationship just gets blurrier and blurrier. But nothing really happens, not yet. Jon is in the midst of a murder investigation, after all - one even Elias is still a suspect in, warm mornings together or not. So they remain walking that line for months and months as Jon sinks further into paranoia, isolated from everyone - except Elias, who stays by his side like the supportive boyfriend he isn’t.

And then there’s the table. And the thing that is not Sasha. And Jurgen Leitner. And now he’s the one being suspected of murder. Jon does what has become his habit over the past two years when he is faced with a social situation he feels ill-equipped to deal with on his own. He goes to Elias.

And Jonah starts to rework his plans.

Maybe the fact that they now live together will make getting Jon marked by the fears harder, maybe it will take longer for him to be ready for the Watcher’s Crown. Maybe it will add years to his plans. But what good is a world without someone to rule it with? Maybe even, with time and patience, someone willing? Jonah’s waited 200 years to perform his ritual; for his Archive, he can wait a few more.

[missinghan]

aria of an assassin ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : assassin au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 6,2k.

❖ warning : mentions of blood & violence, explicit language 

❖ summary : minho hasn’t been fazed for decades throughout his bloodied career until the next target happens to be a black cat and he’s suddenly incapable of pulling the trigger.

❖ note : okay, so it’s been a year? this tiny, stupid blog is turning one year old today? yea I couldn’t believe it either. this is to all of my mutuals and readers out there, I don’t say it enough but I truly appreciate each and every one of you 🖤 I wish I could have written something longer but due to school, this random piece will have to do for now.

❖ the sequel : with felix is out!

one.

“Shit.”

Minho grits in a hushed tone although all that has been accompanying him is the pitiful moonlight and icy breeze dissolving into every fiber of his skin. Every minuscule movement suddenly becomes too irritating to his eardrums. The hustle and bustle life of the city at night. Terrible traffic. Even the sound of his own inhales and exhales. 

What is that thing?

He thinks to himself, proceeding to expand his eyesight with the pair of scopes; confusion soon flares into curiosity, then faint anger and dead silence. He swears his heartbeat just paused awkwardly like a broken record for a split second there. Such strange, or odd targets are no stranger to him; nor do they stir something inside the coldness of his rib cage. 

Not an easy kill, they say. And not easy it is. 

Because whatever he’s watching with his very eyes is a cat. A goddamn cat with a coat as sleek pitch as the dark canvas upon his head and piercing golden eyes. The peculiar animal walks with its head held high like it’s lording over everyone else—such self-reassurance, such radiance some humans cease to possess. 

It’s dangerous, they say. But it’s a fucking cat! Irritation bubbles up at the back of his throat, makes his skin crawl, and causes a bark of profanity to leave his lips once more. Has it not occurred to his client that he doesn’t kill children and animals? When it’s clearly been written on the contract? In bold, underlined, and everything?

They could have at least given him more details on what he’s getting himself to this time. 

An exhale. He packs up his things, pulls his black cap down a little, and leaves the top of the building without looking back. If he did, he would have seen those starry eyes boring holes onto his back. 

two.

The road Minho is walking through is more than familiar. For one, he takes the same path every day to grab a drink at his go-to place—a vending machine near an old, plain high school. 

It’s fair to say he knows every corner of the neighborhood like the back of his hand—from the dark alley where bullies beat up their classmates to the small stall of lemonade of a middle school girl who waves at him every morning. He never reciprocates though; it doesn’t feel right. The amount of apathy in his heart isn’t enough for him to act normally when taking lives is what he does for a living.  

For two, he used to have a part-time job at that particular high school for an old request. Due to his conscience, he did go out of his way to take the kill outside of the school—causing a catastrophe in such an environment makes him uncomfortable.

Just then, he stops. His brow raises. Isn’t that…

The black cat slinks through the crowd of nosy students in the direction of where he too is heading. It raises its nose and gives the air a rough sniff, making a face as though the general stagnant with exhaust fumes stench of the city disgusts the entirety of its existence. 

Watching it take a slight dip to avoid being hit with someone’s bag, Minho holds back every urge to come running at the creature and wrap his arms around its small figure. He wonders how long it’d take for the cat to reach its final destination because it’s definitely taking some sweet ass time to stride through the front of the main gate like a supermodel. Meanwhile, he’s stressed to the core as if the harmless high school filled with teenagers is nothing less than a battlefield. 

Is it testing him?

Something is oddly unsettling about an animal staring straight into his eyes. Paranoia fuels the forgotten irritation inside his chest, sets out to make him actually think those golden eyes are memorizing every inch of his feature. Then, they soften with what seems to be exhaustion, its tiny head turning and its tiny feet take it skipping gently away from the scene. 

Minho finally acknowledges the knot inside his stomach and the breath he’s been holding. With a harsh gulp, he no longer takes notice of the fact if his cap is hung low enough or if he’s walking too quickly. For the first time in long, a rush of adrenaline hits him hard enough to make him speed walk through the herd of chatty teenagers. 

Questions naturally pop up as his shoes kiss the ground, his shadow sprinting into a dark, though familiar alleyway. Was he hallucinating? But he’s been getting enough sleep and eating well. What makes him so certain that it was the same cat? Instincts or some sixth sense bullshit perhaps. If it was the cat that’s assigned to be killed off in a week, what’s so dangerous about it? And how long has he been running for? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? And to where? 

“You.”

Half-way through trying to keep his thoughts off of his face, Minho stops himself when a rather feminine voice echoes through the narrow space. Unsure of whether the voice was reaching out to him, his legs stop moving while his eyes are peering through the dark. Much to his heart’s dismay, shivers run up his spine when something comes in contact with the warm flesh of his neck. 

“What’s your name?” 

Slowly, with his hands on the back of his head, he turns on his heels. “Excuse you?”

You retract your gun-shaped fingers into the pocket of your jacket, phlegmatic eyes gazing at him through the thickness of the night. “I want to know your name,” you try to make your point clear, utterly unfazed. 

Minho stares you down for a good five seconds. Neatly dressed in the school uniform, an oversized jacket thrown over your body but no backpacks. There’s a name tag being embroidered onto the fabric in red “Shin Yuna - 1A”. Whoever you are, he’s certain that isn’t your name. That name doesn’t even suit you. That isn’t your uniform. 

“What’s the point?” he questions, hands dropped to the sides in slight relief. 

You tilt your head, expression neutral. “I have a habit of collecting names of people who tried or are trying to kill me. It’s quite relaxing to write it down on a list actually. You know, easier to keep track.”

He’s trying hard to not let any impulsive urges overthrow the rational side of his brain. Everything suddenly twitches in slow motion. His silence seems to bore you. Your eyes are more dead than angry, more done than irritated. Like you’ve been through this shit one too many times already to care. 

“At least say why you’re sent to kill me.”

That, Minho can answer within a blink of an eye. “They sent me because I don’t exist.”

Your gaze glistens with a glaze of boredom. “Everyone said so.”

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock. Where’s your house, kid? I’ll walk you back. It’d be a pain in the ass if your parents found out how you’re wandering alone after school,” he brushes it off like you’re a slight nuisance (which you are). His heartbeat spikes up once at the mention of family, one that you’ve acknowledged with ease. 

Your arms are folded over your chest now, to cover up the sudden stab of sympathy inside your chest. “There’s no need. I don’t have a place to go back to nor do I have parents who will nag me for staying out late.” 

His mind automatically blackouts along with his senses, blurred with such peculiar feelings swirling at the pit of his stomach. You make it sound like it’s not that big of a deal like you’ve utterly been numb for so long. It’s tragic but understandable. This isn’t the first time he has witnessed a story like yours—your parents, dead or alive, he does not know; by the sound of it, you’re an orphan. Another unfortunate being to graze this planet like himself. This means you can’t afford school, so that uniform really doesn’t belong to you. 

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

“It’s Lee Know. Call me Lee Know.”

“Don’t bother trying, Lee Know. No one has ever made it. They never did.” 

You didn’t mean to expose anything about your life to a total stranger, or specifically an assassin. However, nothing matters when you most likely won’t meet him again nor will he succeed in taking your life. Even the fact that he chose not to give you his real name amplifies how much shit he does not give about you. You don’t expect anything more honestly. 

“Alright, we’re done here,” you feign enthusiasm before clasping your hands together. “Go home. The sun is already going down.”

Strangely enough, Minho can only watch as your shadow shifts to the outline of a black cat before dipping into the depths of the starless night. 

three.

To Minho it’s always just another day in the office. Except his office is a windy rooftop overlooking the mark’s exact location. His tools—rather than a computer—is a state-of-the-art rifle with a telescopic lens. A silencer isn’t very important since traffic and people are more than enough to drown out any suspicious noises. Most will mistake it for a back-firing van. He takes aim with no more qualms than one would gossip about a colleague, then pulls the trigger while thinking about what to order other than Chinese for lunch. When the work is done, he carefully packs everything up into an inconspicuous rucksack. And leaves the scene, like a phantom. 

It’s always been the same boring, bloodied cycle. 

Yet something’s changed since Minho met you. 

He used to maintain a cool detachment to his targets. His conscience prefers not to think of them; whenever he does, it’s as if they’re already dead, mobile meat bags waiting to be laid on a cutting board. He doesn’t like to think merrily of his job, he doesn’t see it as helping them meet their destiny. None of that bullshit. To put it more nonchalantly, everyone will die one day. Minho considers it as a good way to go. Oblivious and in pain for one moment before completely gone the next. 

Simple. Convenient. Much less agonizing than this brutal world. 

Although that doesn’t mean he isn’t traumatized by the amount of blood that has stained his hands. On good days, he might get three to four hours of sleep. Bad days, few minutes to none at all. Terrifying nightmares gnaws at his soul every night, the ugly scar like a reminder of every single one of his sins. He can’t force himself to lose his sanity like any fools out there going down the same path. 

“Shit…” Minho mutters, running a rough hand through his hair. He didn’t sleep well last night—like every other night; hence the bad temper and bitter taste at the back of his throat. 

After a deep breath, he stares at his Hecate II with mischievous eyes—those of a hunter framed in the expressionless face of an executioner. His blunt hands are steady as they lift the shiny weapon over the concrete of a rooftop, drawing out a dry shot in his mind. 

Through his scope, he watches as you’re crossing the road in your human form before stopping abruptly in front of a random tree. You then proceed to squint your eyes and look up in the opposite direction. Minho unknowingly holds his breath, waits for you to release your iron gaze, and move on with your life. But his expectations don’t prevail. 

“What the fuck?” 

Without much patience, he curses before shifting his scope to the same direction only to find another shadow creeping around on the balcony of a nearby building. No time to think of a rational solution—killing them is an ideal one—Minho feels his palms growing sweaty when a small, peculiar object comes flying toward his way. His head quickly moves away before the bullet pierces through his scope, shattering the glass completely. 

“Son of a bitch,” he lets out a shaky breath. Crimson starts to drip down on the side of his cheekbone, but he can care less. 

Because that’s the least of his problem right now. 

Another subtle ‘bang’ can be heard in the distance, like a broken record scratching against his eardrums. Kid…! Minho’s heart collapses in realization. 

four. 

It’s not hard for Minho to do research on quite an amount of vital information about you. When he saw your body dropped to the ground lifelessly and an ambulance immediately drove by to pick up your body, he knew things weren’t going to end just like that. 

“Don’t bother trying, Lee Know. No one has ever made it. They never did.”

He isn’t a believer, has never been one. Yet when he managed to take out your kidnappers in that ambulance, your weak breaths startled his heart and shook his mind into awareness of how serious the situation is. After that, he tracked down the hitman who delivered the hard blow, put a bullet through his brain, and found an USB full of detailed information about your existence. Which just makes things a whole lot more complicated to understand. 

Apparently, you’ve been ‘killed’ one too many times before—there are photographs of your supposedly dead body in a bag, thrown into the deep, dark woods, other times into a nameless river. The thing about you is that you were once an experimental subject to your own biological parents who are sickeningly vile scientists. At the age of nine, you fell down the stairs and had a big gash on your head. They never knew because your wounds were quick to heal themselves. However, your whole life was flipped upside down when they saw you shapeshifting into a black cat while running around at the playground. 

From then, your life became a living hell behind cold metal bars with needles stuck in your arms and strange pills being forced down your throat almost every day. Their sudden change only nourished resentment through time until you managed to cut down the laboratory’s power supply and fled from your own home. 

You have no one to lean on. No place to go back to. No nothing. And you’re just a teenager. 

Minho feels awful. 

Usually, he isn’t the type to be empathetic nor does he have the energy to. It’s very out of character for him to let his emotions linger on a homeless kid with some supernatural abilities that will make his life that much more dangerous. Because to him, more often than not, people tend to give their condolences only to forget after brief moments of grieving. At the end of the day, it isn’t their own problem, it isn’t their own life. But now when it comes to you, Minho feels a strong sense of responsibility that if you end up dying, it’s on him. 

It’s stupidly conflicted, it really is. His job—blowing people’s brains out—is the sole reason why he makes a six-digit amount of money for every job. Therefore, he isn’t sure what picking a random kid up from a fake ambulance and bringing her back to his shabby apartment is going to do him any good. 

“Ah, you’re awake.” 

You hate the fact that you can recognize that voice. 

Just then, you wake as if it’s an emergency, as if sleeping has become a dangerous task. Your heart is pounding loudly inside your ears, the sound echoing listlessly to the pit of your rib cage. It’s always like this. It takes you some time to calm your nerves before gathering what exactly happened the moment you blacked out. 

Right, you think to yourself, groaning slightly while pushing yourself up. You were shot right in the chest, and your body was probably discarded somewhere. After that, you’d grab a hitchhiker so they’ll drive you back into town. Like always. The only difference, this time though, is Minho placing your limp body on his bed with a blanket to warm you up. 

His face appears within your eyesight when you’re done adjusting your vision to the bright room—you’re not used to this much light around. “You look calmer than I expected,” he mentions. 

Minho grabs your face and scans it over. “Let me see. Did your wounds close up properly?” 

The tender action, which has become weirdly natural to him although this is his first time, accidentally triggers something inside you. Your hand automatically slaps his away. It is an upfront refusal, but it doesn’t surprise him. He only offers you a comfortable moment of silence before placing a tray on the wooden nightstand. 

“Eat up. I’m not going to feed you,” he cocks his head toward the bowl of porridge with his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

You glare at him in suspicion. “Bringing me home. Giving me a bed to sleep on. And even food to eat. What are you trying to get at?”

“Nothing. I didn’t kill you only because you’re too young for my moral code,” he pretends to roll his eyes, voicing monotonously. 

A frown adorns your tired features. “So you’re going to kill me when I get older then?” 

“Probably,” Minho smirks faintly with a cock of his eyebrow. “That depends if you still remember my name, Y/N.” 

One thing after another, this assassin only continues to baffle you. He was just going to shoot you the other day and now he’s giving you food? Preposterous! To put it simply, you’re unprepared for such kind actions, such gentleness from someone who takes lives for a living. You’re unprepared for dealing with people in general because they detest anyone who’s different from them—your kind, the kind with supernatural abilities and all. Hence, you’re left unwilling to befriend anyone and would rather be alone for the rest of your life. 

Until such twisted moira pushes you to—what was his name again? Not his real name, the made-up one that he uses in the underworld. 

You speak up softly after feeling safe enough to let your guards down, “Lee Know, was it?” 

“It’s Lee Minho.” 

“Pardon?”

He only smiles, “My real name. It’s Lee Minho.”

five. 

“Y/N! A little help over here?”

“Coming.”

“Y/N, go check the fog machine!”

“Got you.”

“Y/N, can you put these boxes over there?”

“Alright.”

That’s all you’ve been doing for the entirety of your boring day. Getting yelled out at, having people ask for help nonstop, and responding with a two-word answer at max. You’re not complaining—they pay you well enough, the job is more on the down-low side because you’re nothing but a mere stage crew for an above-average theatre studio. So you simply hoist the three final plastic boxes into your arms with a jerk of your knees and place it where they asked you to. Thanks to your parents, their experiments along with skeptical-looking substances have efficiently enhanced your general strength and agility. 

Another crew member perks up when you plop the heavy stack of cardboard boxes down with a loud thud. “Oh, can you carry those lights to stage left too?”

“Sure.” You could have pretended to pick up one box at a time and to drag your feet across the stage with difficulties to avoid being used. But you’re too lazy to repeat the same cycle two more times, so you really don’t have any other choice here. 

Nevertheless, you suppose it’s not entirely bad to do all of this heavy handiwork. Because it keeps your mind off of unwanted things, such as Lee Minho for example. Lee Minho, the assassin, not the actor—you’d gladly fangirl over that certain celebrity rather than admit that you actually enjoy the hitman’s abrupt presence in your life. 

The fact that you know he will find you even if it means traveling to the ends of the Earth and back doesn’t help to ease your insomnia. So for the past few days, you’ve been working extra hours along with picking up a job at a florist in hopes of not bumping into him. Stupid. You know it is. But how can you deal with a self-esteem crisis because the idea of being a burden just irks you so much? 

It’s like you’re hopelessly proving that you don’t need anyone when you, in fact, want that kind of unconditional love that every other human yearns for. 

After helping your colleagues out with the lighting, you simply sit behind those thick curtains until the show is over. Then, you head out, find a place to sleep, and head to an old lady’s place to pick up new clothes to change into for the next day. Since she’s been treating you with nothing but kindness, you’ve tried to pass by and helped her out at her son’s antique store too. 

Your routine is supposed to go that way and stay that way. You won’t die because you don’t like overworking yourself. You’re doing just great. 

“Hey, Y/N! Your brother is here to pick you up!”

Throwing your crewmate a blunt wave, you find your way out of the school’s theatre through a back door without shifting the expression on your face. You don’t have any siblings. And your colleagues don’t know anything about your family background either. So it, unfortunately, boils your guesses down to one. 

Despite knowing who it is and why they show up, you open your mouth to speak, “How did you find me again?”

Minho shows up with a more casual version of his working attire—instead of the fully black, monochromatic outfit, he’s changing it up with a leather jacket, white t-shirt and jeans. He leans on his shiny motorcycle smugly like he knows something that you don’t, in which you very much dislike. 

“Young lady, I’ll have you know that being an assassin helps me appear at places to do things I’m not supposed to do,” he ignores the fact that your question was purely rhetorical and chimes. 

You attempt to throw him a glare which isn’t intimidating enough. “Call me ‘young lady’ one more time and I’ll put my foot where it’s not supposed to be.” Who are you kidding? He’s a hitman when you’re just a kid. Pigs would be flying by the time you managed to physically shoo him away. 

“Am I supposed to guess where that is?”

“Enough. Go to work. Get out of here. Leave me alone.”

“I’m sorry, are you encouraging me to kill people?” Minho gasps, acting shocked and appalled. Clearly, he’s not good at it despite sharing a name with a well-known actor. 

You can only retort harshly, “Don’t put words in my mouth, you ass.”

“Come on, kid. Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Why?”

His hand automatically reaches for your forearm. “Don’t people eat for pleasure? What’s wrong with you?”

Your heart leaps in, anger perhaps, pupils shaking when he closes in on you. Upon your reaction, Minho retracts his arm immediately. He should have thought better of it; you’re probably too traumatized to be dealing with him right now. 

At that, your eyes round at the remorse on his face and you could have glared him off right then and there. But somehow, your basic human manners overcome your usual snappy self, letting you think that maybe he means no harm. Maybe he’s checking up on you one last time before going on about his life. You shouldn’t be too riled up about it just because he tried to kill you once.

Minho catches the familiar anxious gaze and sighs, “Okay, we don’t have to get something to eat. I’ll give you a ride back. Do you have somewhere to stay the night?”

It’s rotten work, whatever he’s trying to do. So you shake the harmless tingle inside your chest away before pushing past him. “No,” you answer dryly and leave. 

six.

You go to work sick the day after because you couldn’t find a place to sleep in and had to make do with napping in front of a tattoo place. Yes, napping; because when you finally shifted into your cat form and allowed your eyes to rest, the sky started pouring waterfalls. The rain had soaked into your shiny black coat, making it frizzy and luring the sickness up your spine the moment you tried finding a different haven.

No one notices. No one.

Not even the mask, the extra layer of sweatshirt nor your hushed coughs every now and then. Despite downing the cold pills early in the morning, you’re only burning up harder by the second. Oh, you know! Maybe they just don’t care, that’s it. Because calling in off for work due to a minor cold isn’t a valid reason. However, you’re still shivering on the inside and burning on the outside. Enhanced genes or any of that bullshit isn’t enough to prevent you from getting sick like any other student. Perhaps something wasn’t complete, or they’d messed up somewhere. Perhaps that’s why they’re trying to get you back.

How foolish of you to think somewhere deep down, they still want you back. With a reason as blunt as you being their child. 

Drowning in deep thoughts, you almost crash into a pile of boxes filled with equipment when your foot gets tangled to a random cable. Your eyes automatically screw shut as you wait for the impact but it never comes. Only a gentle pair of hands on your shoulders did. From that point on, you can’t hear or see properly. You don’t even have enough stamina to register who’s holding onto you so reassuringly. Whatever is happening gets hazier by the tick of a clock. It’s either you’re hallucinating or Minho is giving you that mirthful scowl of his. 

Yep, you’re definitely hallucinating.

“Why didn’t you call in sick for work?”

“That’s a stupid fucking question.”

A frown adorns his perplexed features as his glassy eyes skim your face. He has a really pretty smile, he should smile more, you think. His hand latches onto your burning forehead, slides down on the side of your cheek with such grace as though he’s caressing you. A grumble leaves his lips at your dreadful state. This is why he should have never let you go in the first place. 

“Come on, kid. Let me help you,” Minho says before giving your arm a light tug.

You don’t like what you just heard. “I don’t need your help.”

“You can barely walk.”

“Who said so-” As if on cue, he lets go of your arm bluntly. Caught off guard, your legs go weak without any remaining strength. You stumble and would have most likely fallen on your face if it weren’t for his grip on your arm. A gasp comes out inaudible when he hoists you upright, not planning to let go any time soon.

Minho scratches the tip of his nose with his ring finger, sniffing lightly. It seems like he’s arguing with a younger version of himself. He now knows how it felt like for those caretakers back then. 

“You did,” he says with the same smirk when you woke up in his apartment for the first time.

seven.

That’s the only time you’ve ever allowed someone to help you with something. But Minho had to constantly check on you every two seconds, not wanting you to fall asleep on his bike while it’s speeding down the highway like a gust of wind. For a moment there, he really thought you would slip away into the night as he tried to find his keys because that’s just how you are. 

Minho is no doctor, but he doesn’t go to one for a cold or a really bad fever. He can manage, he tries to convince himself. 

After testing your temperature and giving you something new to change into, he slaps a cool gel patch onto your forehead before heading off to the kitchen to cook up something. You need to be full to be able to take your medicine anyway.

In the act of resting on his bed, you decide you can’t take staying in the same spot anymore so your body perks up in a sluggish manner. The aroma of home-cooked food wakes your senses almost immediately, causing you to look over at his busy figure by the marble counter. You think it’s endearing how he hasn’t bothered to change into something more comfortable. But he instead threw an apron over his working attire and dived right into the cooking process. 

You have always felt like you were missing out on something whenever you looked at Minho. Perhaps it was how his striking eyes stared at you, whether mischievous or else. Perhaps it was how his lips were turning down most of the time with less than affectionate words. 

Or it’s plainly how he has been trying to hide that he actually cares. 

“Hungry?” He tilts his head to the side playfully once his sixth sense starts kicking in. 

You can only nod. “Yeah.” 

It takes Minho a lot of convincing yet you won’t let him feed you. Like hell, you would. Therefore, with helpless eyes, he watches you from across the table. He doesn’t laugh or get annoyed when your shaky hand drops the spoon and splatters the soup all over the table. His hand simply reaches for a piece of paper towel to clean up the mess, tossing it into the trash bin later. The same cycle repeats in comforting silence until you finish the entire bowl. The soup definitely wasn’t five-star worthy. But it’s enough to warm you up inside and out. Of course, Minho chooses to let the dishwasher do the job—his hatred for doing dishes is always at its finest. 

Then, like the other night, he has already passed out on the table with a blanket draped over his body when you step out of the shower. Instead of plopping the weight of your exhaustion onto his bed this time, your legs stay frozen like cement on the floor while your eyes take in his reclined figure under the thin fabric. Minho is sleeping with his head buried in his arms, his glasses and messy files abandoned to the side. He’s definitely not a heavy sleeper because he doesn’t snore; only feather-like breaths can be heard through this endless beat of silence. The faintly blinking light from his laptop makes you feel exposed so you push yourself toward the balcony. 

A hiss comes out hushed and quiet when your feet come into contact with the cold tile floor, bringing you across the studio apartment with small tiptoes. You peer over your shoulder, gazing at the only available source of light. Unconsciously, you ball your fists. 

With a soft sigh, you slide open the glass door and step out to bathe yourself in the comfort of the moonlight. Despite the chilling air of the night, something warm fills up your lungs like an overflowed cup of wine. It suffocates you a little until the knots in your muscles and mind loosen; a sense of relief washes over you—you haven’t felt that in years. 

Nothing makes sense. 

A hitman hired by your parents shouldn’t be putting a roof over your head, tucking you into bed nor feeding you. Minho barely knows you; and your knowledge about him as a genuine person isn’t enough to convince you that this is reality. Because after years of wandering the streets, being tossed around like trash with plenty of a series of unfortunate events, you’ve made it a habit to sink into yourself. 

So the longer you stay here, the more you’ll get attached to him. And the more you get attached, the more he takes away your default instincts to turn your back on everything.

Guilt wells up inside your chest as though it’s an old habit, a setting by default. If you ever try to go over the moderate line, you will break. 

Holding back a croaked sob, you know that once you let it go, tears will only start flooding. With a push of your muscles, you effortlessly hoist yourself up the metal railings in one go. The wind combs through your hair like an empathetic hand but you ignore it, Minho’s sweater closing in on your skin. 

You should leave, you try to urge yourself. You should jump off and dive into the depths of the night, let the allure cradle you in its emotionless arms. 

Because after all, despite all those eyes on you out there, you’re ultimately alone within. 

A foot dips out into thin air once the slump in your shoulders goes weightless. Immediately after, an incredible force pulls you by the ankle, and to the ground with a loud thud. Minho falls onto his back harshly, groaning slightly with you on top of him.

He knew what you were trying to do, he saw it the other night with his own eyes. Even under the knowledge of your capabilities, Minho still feels a rush of panic rising inside his chest. It’s only until his arms fully have a hold of you does his racing heartbeats slow down. Supernatural abilities or none, you’re still sick. And he’d be losing his mind if he woke up to an empty bed tomorrow morning. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” he speaks with trembling vocal cords, in a tone you’ve never heard before. Strict but mellow. As though there’s a race inside his mind but he’s desperately trying to keep his cool. It’s fear. The moment he’s introduced to the idea of losing you—it’s genuine fear. 

“Minho, I can’t die. Didn’t I tell you—“

His grip squeezes you in a breath tighter, cutting you off completely. “The fuck were you thinking? You can’t just jump off the balcony like that!”

“I already told you. I can’t die. Minho, I’ve done that plenty of times before,” you furrow your brows in a troubled manner, unsure of how to react. 

Minho widens his eyes at you in sheer disbelief. Shock riddles his senses and gets the best of him. So now he’s fussing with his hands, incoherent profanity leaving his lips non-stop within the next thirty seconds or so. He’s usually very calm, collected, calculating, and cold. This is very unlike him. It makes you wonder why he’s acting this way. He knows that you can’t die from jumping off a building. So what’s there to worry about? 

“You’re such an idiot! Try doing that again and I’ll kill you with my own-“

You truly don’t know how important you are to him. Frankly, he hasn’t even realized that yet. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, pulling him closer. Since you’re bad at resolving any kind of conflict, you opt for the most rational solution—going with his flow until he’s calmed down. “I won’t do that again, promise.” 

His lips fall agape at your words. He wasn’t expecting that. And even when you see how he’s reacting to your sudden change, you decide it’s no time to back down. This might be the only time you could show him that you’re at least grateful for everything he’s done. 

He’s quieted down now. And when he manages to speak again without tripping over his own words, his voice comes out as a whisper. “Hey kid,” he looks down at you, wanting to stroke your hair but drops his hand in sheer defeat. “You didn’t answer my question earlier. Why didn’t you call in sick for work?”

“Who would do my job when I’m gone? Isn’t that irresponsible?” You exhale deeply before fluttering your eyes close, finding odd peace within the rhythm of his heart. 

Minho says pointedly, “Well, you could have asked someone to help you with it.”

“No one would help me.”

“How’d you know? Have you tried asking them before?” 

Your eyes shoot open and flicker around your surroundings, you’re at a loss for words for a split second there. Heat rushes to the apples of your cheeks in shame, your head hung terribly low. “I’m not used to asking for help. I’d hate to be a burden,” you confess. 

Innocence glimmers in your eyes when you look up at him, waterlines threatening to break any second now. Your lashes are slightly damped and how lost you’re looking right now can physically draw crimson on his heart. At the end of the day, you’re just a kid. You had to grow up the hard way, with no one by your side telling you what’s right and what’s wrong, even simple things like how to react to non-verbal affection. 

Don’t let her go, Minho. Not now. Not ever.

“Then fix it now.”

“What?” You pause. 

“If you need help, ask for it. If things are hard, say it. I’ll be there to give you a hand.”

Tears well up in your eyes, croaked sobs shake your body, only prompting him to pull your closer. It’s warm. Damnit, why is it so warm? “I-I can’t sleep. Sing me something?”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Minho just knows that he would bleed with you even when the rain pours and the sky falls one day.

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 11: Gamble and Gossip

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Some scene setting, and fun teasing. Who doesn't like to be teased about the two hot guys that are begging for their attention? And I mean, I sure do love writing these boys! Thanks for reading. I appreciate you guys so much. It's made this experience SO much fun. Will update again tomorrow... and also maybe Monday if all goes well ;D

Part 10 Part 12 Chapter Index

Liu Kang was seated amongst a handful of other monks, undoubtedly leading them in meditation. It was afternoon and Kung Lao had some time to think over what you had said the night before. He’d since made a few decisions on the matter. Before doing anything, he had to run it by his ‘brother’. Liu Kang had always been more level-headed than he was- more careful, more studious. Kung Lao knew that Liu Kang was going to hate his idea but it had to be said. He didn’t see another way out.

Leaning against the wall near the door, he tilted his hat and waited for the monks to finish their meditation. He’d never been big on meditating either. He’d done it, obviously, but his thoughts had always run amok throughout. Liu Kang spoke with the other monks and then waited for them to leave the room before stopping in front of Kung Lao, arms folded over his chest expectantly.

“All done?”

“You could have joined in. Less distracting.”

“I’ll pass.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Later.”

“What?”

“We’ll talk about that later. It’s not why I’m here.”

“Then…?” Liu Kang sighed expectantly, bowing his head as one of the monks peeked inside to thank him for the meditation. “What?”

“I want a fair chance.”

“What does that mean, Lao?” The sigh Liu Kang gave him was a familiar one and it made Kung Lao laugh under his breath.

“It means that we should order takeout. What do you think it means, Liu? For Y/N, obviously. You knew exactly what I meant. Why waste time and make me explain it?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

He knew that Liu Kang was going to hate this. Even talking about you had made him uncomfortable.

“Don’t be sorry.”

“You know that I wasn’t actually apologizing, Lao. Get to your point.”

“We’re going to make it interesting.”

“I thought we’d already talked about this.”

“Did you think we were actually done talking?”

“I had hoped.” Liu frowned. “She can do whatever she wants, Kung Lao. You and I don’t have any say in what she does. She’s an adult. I’m not going to fight with you over her. That’s ridiculous. We’re not schoolboys.”

“Who said anything about fighting?” Kung Lao chuckled and Liu couldn’t have looked less approving.

“This is feeling very childish.”

“Oh, come on. You like her. Right?” Liu Kang said nothing in response but then when Kung Lao gave him a knowing look, Liu nodded.

“Well, so do I.” Kung Lao shrugged. It was simple. They had a problem so he had come up with a creative solution. “To be fair? I saw her first…”

“…I’m coming back to that we’re-not-schoolboys thing and find I’m having to remind you that we’re not children.”

“Fine, fine. I’m just saying that there’s no reason we shouldn’t make this interesting. We’re both vying for her attention and whoever wins? Wins.”

“Why do I feel like I’m about to call you an asshole?”

“We bet on it.”

“I was right. You’re an asshole.” Liu Kang silenced him with a look and Kung Lao smiled. “I’m not betting on someone else’s choices, Kung Lao.”

“Hear me out, Liu!” Kung Lao followed his brother out of the room and down the hall. Liu Kang stopped and turned to face him expectantly. “It could be fun?”

“Ugh. Isn’t she going through enough right now without us and… you being the way you are?”

“I’m just saying, Liu. This is happening one way or another so why not have a harmless little game on the side?” Kung Lao joined him in his walk, amused by both his brother’s disgust and curiosity.

“And what would the stakes be in this hypothetical bet?”

“That’s more like it.” Kung Lao clapped his hands together and stretched them in front of him. “Chores? Errands? Something harmless. For like a month.”

“And the other backs off. Bows out. No hard feelings.” Liu Kang suggested and stopped his walk, tapping his thumb against his prayer beads in thought.

“Finally, you’re part of the fun.” Kung Lao laughed. “Chores too, though.”

“So, what exactly would the terms be? Also, I’m throwing it out there that I do not feel terribly good about this. It feels manipulative.”

“It’s not. You like her. I like her. Neither one of us is leading her on. No one’s lying.”

“And yet now there are stakes. We’re betting over the decisions of another human. It feels… morally gray at the least.”

“What? Are you worried that I’m going to steal your girl? Who was my girl to begin with, just as a reminder.”

“No.” Liu Kang was instantly defensive. “And she doesn’t belong to anyone. I need you to stop phrasing it that way.”

“You’re worried that she’s going to kiss me first and not know what to do.” Kung Lao teased. “Worried that you might lose all that extra ground you covered while I was gone.” Kung Lao enjoyed making Liu Kang uncomfortable and was happy to see him considering his game. He wanted a fair shot and it seemed the only way without arguing with his brother. Liu Kang averted his gaze and looked far past Kung Lao who followed his gaze and then scoffed in surprise. He’d already kissed you. Well, that certainly changed things. “Interesting. So, I’m working at a bigger disadvantage than I thought.”

“Disadvantage?” Liu rolled his eyes. “You grew up together. She holds you in deep reverence. She asks about you all the time. That’s not a disadvantage.”

“Don’t pretend that being made of fire isn’t working in your favor. Neither of our standings are fair so… that makes it kind of fair, right?”

Liu Kang rolled his eyes again. “What are the terms, Kung Lao?”

“Well, first we agree not to be angry with each other no matter what comes of it.”

“Annoyed is acceptable, right? Because I’m already annoyed.”

“Of course.” Kung Lao swatted him on the back. “Well, then the only terms are her choosing one of us. Like you said. It’s not really up to us.”

“So, I’m supposed to be fine wondering what the two of you are up to. Is that the real reason you’re doing this?”

“I said that being annoyed was fine, remember? Besides, it’ll make you work harder.” Kung Lao teased, though he didn’t love the mental image of Liu kissing you either. That ship had sailed apparently and he had ground to regain. “So when she chooses, then one of us wins.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. No strings attached. I’m not going to even brag.”

“I don’t believe that for a single second.”

“No, really. I’m just trying to cut the air between us over it. This way we can be honest. I know that she’s attached to you and while she’s attached to me, that’s in a different sense. Also, I want you to do my chores and errands for a month.”

“Well, aren’t you confident?”

“I’m the descendant of the Great Kung Lao. What makes you think that I won’t?”

“Fine. We can have this little bet. You are, however, an asshole to think of this. When she inevitably gets angry about it? I’m deferring to you.”

“Defer away. I’m extremely charming.” Kung Lao clasped his shoulder and then gestured down the hall. “Spar? It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

***

You slept into the next afternoon, something that you had sorely needed. When you woke up, you were alone and grateful for it. You adored Liu Kang and Kung Lao but the air had become thick with them around. It felt nice not to have to have your guard up for a few minutes. For now, you could lay in bed, curled up in your blanket like a burrito, and procrastinate on getting on with your day.

Your side was sore and you were exhausted despite the extra sleep. That was to be expected considering the blood loss and trauma of the night before. After a few minutes spent rolling around in bed, you got up, got cleaned up, and dressed. Then you made your way down to the infirmary, stopping only once to help a monk who had their hands full. You figured it was better to go make sure that your side was doing okay rather than have to break the promise you’d made to Chen the night before.

You walked into the infirmary and speak of the devil, there was Chen. You smiled and waved in greeting to you. You returned the wave shyly and stepped further inside. Chen offered you a hug, then urged you to take a seat on the bench you’d sat upon more times than you could count now. Chen took the seat next to you.

“I was hoping that you’d check in with us today before getting yourself into more trouble.” Chen looked to you disapprovingly and you pouted. “You know, it was pretty peaceful before you arrived.”

“I find that difficult to believe.”

“Okay, so it’s not much less chaotic, but still. It’s been much bloodier the last few weeks with you around. Come on, shirt up, let me see.” Chen was a few years older than you, you suspected. You hadn’t asked but the way Chen spoke led you to believe that there was a small age gap. You had worn the tank top from the night before. It was so much easier to maneuver around than the gi or the hanfu. You put it in the back of your mind to ask Lao or Liu if you could leave the temple at some point to buy some other clothing. You liked the hanfu and the gi but they were antiquated and inconvenient at times.

You tugged up your shirt and Chen pulled the gauze away from the wound. The skin around it was tender but you didn’t flinch. Chen wasn’t gentle with you anymore either. In fact, she’d told you several times that the best way for you to heal would be for you to be treated normally. You’d even heard Chen scold Liu Kang once for pampering you and had a good laugh about it.

Chen tended to the wound. You didn’t look at it. It was very sore even though it had been cauterized. It made your whole torso ache, even sitting upright was a chore. Still, at least you weren’t bleeding out anymore. You could recover from the blood loss at least. Chen rattled on about her day while she worked, talking about the walk she’d taken that morning and a delivery of medicine that had come with one of the other monks returning from a long journey.

You struggled to focus. It wasn’t that Chen was boring, just that you were exhausted and the pulling and tugging of the wound didn’t help.

“So, yesterday was interesting.” Chen shoved your shoulder when it was clear you were no longer paying attention to her stories. You pouted again.

“That’s one word for it. Miserable? That’s a pretty good word for it too.”

“Oh, I suppose that was interesting too but I meant with Kung Lao.”

You rolled your eyes so hard that Chen laughed and smacked the back of your head. “Ow! He felt guilty, okay? Your brain is constantly in the gutter.”

“I thought you were sweet on Liu Kang.”

“Could you lower your voice if you’re going to talk like that? Jeez.” You hushed her and Chen laughed.

“We all thought you were sweet on Liu Kang.” Chen lowered her voice.

“I didn’t come here to talk about this. I came here to keep my no-bleeding-in-the-temple promise. So please, please let all of that go and do the thing where you tell me to be careful but go about my day.”

“Okay, okay.” Chen continued to clean the wound and was quiet only for a second. “…but you know? That was interesting. Kung Lao doesn’t come down here often. Avoids us like the plague. Yet, he stayed here nearly all night long for you.”

“You can’t agree to let it go and then keep yammering on about it. That’s lying. You’re a lying monk. That’s probably bad. Morally gray at the very least.”

“You’re being awfully evasive.”

“Not evasive I just don’t really want to talk about it.” You laughed. You had dwelled about these things enough on your own. It was nice, at least, to know that the tension wasn’t in your head. The others had noticed it too, so you weren’t going crazy. Was that good or bad? You had no idea.

“Like hell!”

“Again? Probably bad for a monk.” You laughed nervously as others stopped to look at you with Chen’s outburst. Chen waved the other monks off and they returned to their tasks.

“This is the juiciest gossip we’ve had in so long, Y/N.”

“I thought that you were supposed to be humble and all that.”

“We’re not perfect. That’s part of the deal.”

“I’m just saying that it feels like someone somewhere is probably judging you for this.”

“We’re still allowed to experience fun and excitement, Y/N. And this is very fun. And exciting.”

“Making me uncomfortable? That’s what’s fun and exciting?”

“Yes, Y/N. So, Kung Lao. What’s going on with that?”

“It’s complicated.”

“What about it is so complicated?”

“I knew him when we were kids. Old friends, I guess? Like I said, it’s complicated.” It was so much more complicated than you let on.

“Oh, come on.” Chen laughed and you couldn’t help but laugh with her. It really was ridiculous. The whole situation was absurd. You were glad for Chen then, who brought you back down to earth. You got so into your head about everything the past few days that hearing someone else’s voice on the matter was a reprieve, even if it was terribly embarrassing. “Please tell me that you two went and had some fun.”

“Chen!” Your face turned red.

“You’ve had nothing but pain since you got here, well except for that time I caught you and Liu Kang snuggling. Sue me for hoping you got to have a bit of the opposite.” Chen considered it and then shrugged. “Well, or a lot of the opposite. With at least one of them.”

“You can’t possibly be a monk. Someone has lied to me.”

“Your face is so red. I’ve never seen it that red.”

“You’re killing me.”

“It’s delightful.”

“My face can’t handle much more of this, I swear. Are we done here? Can I go throw my head in cold water and think pure thoughts?” You dared to peek at the wound and winced at the sight of it. It was ugly but still better than it looked the night before. Chen fanned the wound with the gauze in her hand.

“You should come meet us later so that we can catch up.”

“You mean gossip. You want me to meet you to gossip.”

“Yes, that is exactly what I mean.” Chen covered the wound with the gauze and you pulled your shirt back down over it.

“We’ll see. The day’s already half over and I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing today. If I have free time, I’ll consider coming to bother you.” You weren’t sure you’d get the chance but if it ended the torturous teasing for the time being then you would at least consider it. Besides, even with the teasing, Chen was good company.

“I could find us some wine.”

“You are the worst monk,” you whispered.

“I expect a juicy story in return.”

“I don’t have any juicy stories.” You lied. You lied right through your teeth.

“Before you run off, please just give me a few details of…”

“Y/N?” Kung Lao’s voice interrupted and Chen sat upright and pretended to be working on cleaning up the mess she’d made taking care of your wound. Your face was still red and you shot daggers at Chen with your eyes but Chen was smiling brightly and avoiding your eyes. Chen stood up and allowed Kung Lao to take the spot where she’d been seated. You took calming breaths to try and will the redness away from your face.

“What are you doing here?” You cleared your throat and Kung Lao placed his hand to your cheek. His hand was cold in comparison but took up the entire side of your face.

“Are you having a reaction? Your face is on fire.”

“Just overheated. It’s warm out today.” You urged his hand away from your cheek but his fingertips still lingered. This was the worst timing. It was as though he’d planned with Chen to embarrass you. He didn’t seem to think you were embarrassed though, instead, he was concerned.

“How are you feeling? Wound still closed up?” Kung Lao reached to tug up your shirt and you gasped in surprise and swatted his hand away. He looked wounded as he pulled his hand back then grinned playfully.

“Don’t be so grabby. It’s fine. I just wanted to check in on it before going about my day.”

“Probably hurts something fierce still.”

“Yeah, it’s weighing on me.” You breathed a sigh of relief as you managed to relieve the burning in your face.

“Can I see it?”

“Why?”

“I’m curious.”

“No.” You stuck your tongue out at him. “Not a good enough reason.”

“Wow, okay.” He patted your leg with a laugh and rested his hand there. You did your best not to stare at it and also tried to ignore Chen spying on you. “If you’re done here then why don’t we get up and practice a bit?”

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea, Kung Lao.” You stared at his hand on your leg.

“You won’t get any better if you don’t keep it up. Nothing too crazy. Won’t even use my hat.” He tapped the brim and then brushed his fingers along the side of it.

“I’m nervous.” You hated that you’d admitted it and regretted saying it immediately. Kung Lao urged his hand from your leg, tilted his posture toward you, and brushed his fingertips over your jaw and beneath your chin. You fought off another shiver and he scooted closer to you, knees just barely pressed against yours.

“I promise to protect you. Don’t worry so much.”

“I uh…” Your voice, once again, felt small, something that was becoming much more common this close to him. He smirked as if realizing you were uncomfortable. “I’m more nervous for you than me. I attacked Liu without knowing.”

“I can handle myself, Y/N.”

“Oh?”

“I’m happy to prove it to you,” he whispered in your ear. You felt your heart stop dead in its tracks. His breath was hot on your ear then suddenly he stood up and left you seated alone. “Come on. Let’s go.” He walked out of the infirmary and you watched him go, stupefied. Chen grabbed your arm and urged you to your feet and mouthed for you to go.

“This is such a mess. A complete and total mess.” You followed after Kung Lao and Chen made a joking kissy face as you walked out of the infirmary.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 13 first part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Endeavors) 

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Don’t Have a Leg to Stand on

Wei Wuxian starts off asking Lan Wangji to let him help, citing, not for the first time, "all we've been through together" as a reason they should share their troubles. Later, all they go through apart will make it even harder for them to share their troubles. 

Using paperman, Wei Wuxian asks Wen Qing for help, and she calls for a rest stop. Lan Wangji sits down and Wei Wuxian goes to get him some water.

Wei Wuxian stupidly bows to Wen Qing to thank her, causing her to contemplate what a terrible spy he would be. She avoids talking to him while he looks at her with deep friend-yearning, in a moment of blatant het baiting.

Overly-dramatic backache guy is my hero. His back and shoulders are trashed after a stroll on a smooth path. Same, backache guy, same.

Jiang Cheng comes along to tell Wei Wuxian not to pay attention to Wen Qing.

Also, don't pay attention to Lan Wangji. Do you sense the theme here, bro?

(more after the cut)

Wei Wuxian actually takes the hint and cuddle-walks with Jiang Cheng for a bit, gossiping about Wen Chao and his girlfriend.

Jiang Cheng drops a seemingly-insignificant bit of information about swords requiring spiritual power. 

He will not think of this later when his brother starts wielding a flute.

Talisman Magic

After looking around a wide open beach area, the cultivators are unable to find the hidden cave, and are ready to give up. Wei Wuxian decides that's a good time for him to start looking.

Jiang Cheng continues his hopeless quest to get Wei Wuxian to stop doing stuff. Wei Wuxian decides to help Wen Chao find his "murder all the clan heirs" cave, locating it with hardly any effort.

Is Wei Wuxian the only cultivator who uses talismans at this point?  Seeing all the baby Lans using them in Episode 1 makes it seem like they're not unusual, but he seems to be the only one in this generation.

This makes a strong impression on a lot of people. Jiang Chang isn't happy about it, and walks away from his brother.

Side note: these two are the literal worst, and yet they have...kind of great chemistry? I want to see these actors as the secondary, comic-relief couple in a modern light-hearted romance. 

It's hard to tell from this look exactly what Lan Wangji thinks about Wei Wuxian's cave-finding, but from this point on, they are walking together, and Lan Wangji is letting Wei Wuxian hold his arm to help him. 

Wanting to fight monsters is kind of high on their list of shared interests, and every time they go questing, they get closer to each other.

Spelunking

The cave filming location is freaking awesome, with apparently real bats.

Sure, give torches to the two most dangerous prisoners, great thinking, Wen Chao. 

MianMian, who has been a perfectly sensible and competent cultivator up until this point, suddenly becomes clumsy and helpless, which is probably just as annoying for her as it is for the people who are used to relying on her. Everyone's entitled to a bad day, but jeez, writers.

Lan Wangji has stopped worrying about his busted leg and is super eager to find the monster. 

Wei Wuxian unwisely points out that they can’t see what’s at the bottom of the cave, which inspires Wen Chao to play a quick round of Fuck/Marry/Cliff with him. 

Reactions to seeing Wei Wuxian yeeted off a cliff are varied.

Down at the bottom of the cave, the cultivators stand around helplessly until Wei Wuxian uses a talisman to light up the back of the cave. Seriously, what do these wankers do on their night hunts? They’re hopeless at hunting. 

None of them remarks on the strangely turtle-shaped rock in front of them. To be fair, I don't think Wen Chao told them what sort of monster they're looking for.

Picking on Mian Mian Some More

Wen Chao wants to bleed someone in order to draw out the monster. Instead of just asking everyone to cough up some blood, which any c-drama character can do on command, he wants to cut someone up. 

His girlfriend is a nasty jealous person, so she wants to use MianMian as bait. Wei Wuxian starts to move to protect her and Lan Wangji beats him to it.

HEY HEY HEY now! I never noticed before, but Wei Wuxian isn’t actually an idiot for thinking Lan Wangji likes MianMian!

Lan Wangji might have leaped to protect her because he’s chivalrous--protecting the weak and so forth--or he might have done it to keep Wei Wuxian safe. 

*We* know he definitely didn’t do it because of a crush on her. When Lan Wangji has a crush on someone, he shows it by trying to stab them to death. But it’s not unreasonable for Wei Wuxian to interpret this as “man protects pretty girl he likes.”

Wei Wuxian breaks the terrible news to Jiang Cheng that they might have to actually help their friends to, like, not die.

Fight Fight Fight

Sure enough, fighting breaks out, and the three heirs and Wei Wuxian immediately grab swords away from their opponents and start kicking their asses. Feudalism really does bring the best quality people to the top!

After casually cutting a Wen dude’s throat, probably with that dude’s own sword, Wei Wuxian brings out his most lethal weapon, going verbal on Wen Chao. Initially this comes off like WWX being obnoxious and hassling an enemy when he should be focusing on sword fighting. But he's actually making a strategic move here to win the fight. 

Through the power of talking, and having actually done his homework, Wei Wuxian gets Wen Chao to insult his own ancestor. This is rude and hugely unlucky, and is also specifically against the Wen clan rules. In fact, it carries the death penalty, which Wei Wuxian gleefully taunts Wen Chao about.

Wen Zhuliu, who is a better Wen than Wen Chao, is super embarrassed by his junior boss's dumbfuckery...which distracts him.

As this goes on, Wei Wuxian’s companions become more and more aware that he’s about to make a move. Jin Zixuan has been on the receiving end of this play himself. 

Wen Chao is a really weak fighter, and always relies on Wen Zhuliu, carefully keeping himself out of danger whenever fighting happens. But Wei Wuxian's goading gets to him and he rushes forward. 

Wei Wuxian instantly disarms him and takes him hostage, while Jiang Cheng leaps into battle with the only really dangerous opponent in the room.

Jiang Cheng takes a scary but not core-crushing hand strike to the chest, but the battle stops when Wei Wuxian threatens Wen Chao's life.

He talks directly to Wen Zhuliu, who knows a killer when he sees one. Long before visiting the burial mounds, Wei Wuxian is entirely ruthless when necessary. Here he goes from whimsical to deadly in a heartbeat. 

This is a part of him that Lan Wangji doesn't really acknowledge...yet. 

Everyone drops their weapons. Unfortunately Wei Wuxian decided to stand on the turtle shaped rock, so this advantage won’t last.

Part Two coming soon!

[wordsintimeandspace]

All That Haunts Us (1/14)

Jon and Tim have seen their fair share of strange things while working in Research at the Magnus Institute. They still didn’t quite expect to rescue Martin, who has been missing for a year, from a supernatural encounter during one of their investigations. Together, the three of them hunt for answers and try to find a way forward, but they all have things that haunt them.

Meanwhile, Elias sees the perfect opportunity to set his devious plan into motion...

Jon/Martin/Tim, rated T, ~2500 words for this chapter. Read on AO3!

Tim plumps down onto the corner of Jon’s desk without much warning. After months of being friends with Tim Jon supposes he should be used to it by now, but he still startles a little, eyes shooting up from the book he’s been engrossed in for who knows how long. Tim sits there with his arms crossed over his chest, smiling down at him like he’s exactly where he belongs.

“Can I help you?” Jon finally asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I hope so,” Tim says lightly. “But first, I brought lunch.”

He sets a sandwich down in front of Jon. Jon blinks in surprise, and only now notices the rumbling of his stomach and the empty desks around him as everyone else in his shared office has gone out for lunch. “Oh. Sorry, we had planned to meet up, hadn’t we?”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind eating here.” Tim takes a bite of his own sandwich, as if to demonstrate. Jon wrinkles his nose as he continues talking, mouth half full. “Reading anything interesting?”

For a second Jon hesitates - out of all the people in the Research Department, Tim might be the only one to agree with him that ‘The Architecture of Cathedrals in the 15th Century’ is actually interesting. But based on the look in his eyes, Jon suspects he has something more pressing to talk about. “Nothing too important,” he finally says, carefully prying the wrapper away from his food. “What did you need help with?”

“I’ve been working on a case.”

Jon looks up from his sandwich - spicy chicken and cucumber, just what he prefers - and frowns. “The one with the cat, right?”

Tim heaves a melodramatic sigh. “Yes, the one with the lady who claims her cat got eaten by, let me quote, ‘a six foot tall monster with too many legs and teeth’. As if that’s the only logical explanation for an outdoor cat to go missing in London. Never mind, oh, I don’t know, cars and foxes and all that.”

Even as he tries to suppress it, Jon can’t quite help the grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “You sound like you had a bit of a week.”

“Oh, you have no idea. I called every vet and the animal shelter if they’ve seen any unusual injuries. And then I’ve knocked on every door in the area that has a cat flap and asked them if their cat has gone missing in the last year, and I scoured every possible missing pet portal on the entire internet.”

“... and? Did you find anything?” Jon asks when Tim doesn’t continue.

Tim throws his hands up, exasperated. “Of course I found something. Do you have any idea how many cats go missing every year in a city like this, entirely due to natural causes?”

Jon nods. “Okay, I get your point. This still doesn’t answer the question of what you need help with though.”

“Look, I just thought... if there is a monster like that - and I’m not saying there is - it’s big enough to harm more than cats, right? So I looked for missing dogs as well. And then, while I was on a roll and because I was terribly bored, I looked for missing persons.”

At that, Jon raises an eyebrow. He knows Tim is an excellent researcher, thorough in everything he does, but that seems to go even beyond his usual rigour. “You can’t possibly tell me you found an account of a person being eaten by a monster like that. Surely we would have heard of it by now.”

“No, ‘course not.” Tim rolls his eyes, taking another bite of his sandwich before he continues. “This has nothing to do with that. But what I did find was a missing person’s report from about a year ago, and several accounts from the last few months that the building where he used to live is haunted.”

Jon stills, looking at Tim with a frown. “That rather sounds like someone is making a crude joke.”

“At first I thought so too,” Tim says. “But the reports on the hauntings didn’t mention that a person went missing there. And the guy’s address isn’t even public. They couldn’t have known. I had Sasha dig that up for me, along with other details on the case. You know Sasha, right?”

Jon nods - he doesn’t think he’s ever talked to her, but even he can’t escape the Institute gossip when someone transfers from Artifact Storage to another department. And he’s seen her around Research by now, in the last few weeks. “I- yes. But… what kind of ‘haunting’ are we talking about here?”

Tim shrugs. “There seems to be a bunch of evidence. Recordings of hushed voices and weird noises, something like rustling? Blurry figures in the shadows. Cold spots.”

“I’m not sure I would count that as evidence.”

Tim lets out a long sigh. “Don’t be such a sceptic.”

Jon frowns. “It is our job to be sceptical.”

“Yeah, sure, but you have to admit it’s a weird coincidence, right? That this building where one person disappeared is supposedly haunted since then?”

Jon bites his lip. He trusts Tim’s instincts. And he can’t deny that there’s something off about this whole thing, even if he can’t put his finger on it. It happens sometimes, that a case just feels… wrong, he supposes. That it comes with a prickle of unease and a shiver down his spine, in a way that is too familiar to ignore. He wonders if Tim feels it as well, or if he just - for some unfathomable reason - wants to get out of interviewing even more cat owners.

“What do you want to do about this, then?” he finally asks, and Tim’s face immediately brightens.

“I want to go view the flat. There’s a rent advertisement online. Perfect opportunity for a bit of snooping.”

“Okay. And you need me for… what, exactly?”

At this Tim smiles - a bit mischievous, which is his usual expression, but also a bit bashful, which is a rare sight for someone as self-assured as Tim. Jon can’t help but feel a bit nervous about that, and reaches for his long cold mug of tea.

“I need you to pose as my boyfriend,” Tim says calmly, and Jon promptly chokes as he takes a sip.

“What?” he finally manages to get out as soon as he can breathe again. His cheeks are burning, but Tim just gives him a sympathetic smile and a pat on the back.

“You heard me. Come on, help me out there buddy.”

“But… why?”

Tim lets out a long sigh. “Look, I first tried to be honest, but when I called the landlord and mentioned the Magnus Institute he swore at me and hung up. The rent advertisement is just the backup plan. I need you to be with me and take over the speaking to make sure he doesn’t recognize me.”

For a moment, Jon can only stare at him. “I still don’t understand why I’d have to be your boyfriend. Can’t I be your flatmate?”

“It’s a one bedroom apartment. He’s not going to believe we’re flatmates.”

“What about Sasha? Can’t you ask her?” Jon asks, a bit helplessly.

Tim gives him a long look. “Jon, I’m trying very hard not to be offended that you really don’t want to fake date me, but you’re not making it easy.”

“I- I’m not-” Jon splutters before heaving a sigh. “I- fine. Fine. I’ll do it.”

Tim cheers, even as Jon glowers at him. “Oh, this is fantastic,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “I’ve always wanted to do something like this. Can I call you a pet name?”

Heat rises in Jon’s cheeks. He tries his best to glare even as his stomach swoops at the idea, for reasons he resolutely does not want to examine. “Absolutely not.”

“Hold your hand?”

“No.”

Tim lets out a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re no fun.”

“This is supposed to be work, not fun.”

“I can multitask and do both at once, Jon.”

Suppressing a groan, Jon rolls his eyes at him, and decides to just move on. “When do you want to do this?”

“Okay, so, I need you to call to set up an appointment. We can-”

Abruptly, Tim stops. He goes still, the excited grin slipping off his lips. He’s not looking at Jon anymore, his eyes instead fixed on something behind him.

Jon whirls around in his chair, and startles when his gaze falls on Elias Bouchard, head of the Magnus Institute, standing in the doorway to his office. As usual, he is wearing an impeccable grey suit and a smile that never quite matches the piercing look in his eyes. Somehow, there’s always something unnerving about him, although Jon can’t put his finger on it.

“Um. Hello, Mr. Bouchard,” he starts slowly.

Elias’ smile widens just a little bit. “Jonathan. I’ve told you before, call me Elias,” he says smoothly. “And Timothy. Just the man I wanted to speak to.”

Tim winces and sits up a little straighter. “Of course. What can I help you with?”

Elias fixes Tim with a long stare that makes Jon squirm in his seat. “I had a rather unpleasant call with one Mr. Abbott earlier,” Elias finally says, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “He complained that someone from the Magnus Institute asked to see one of his rental properties to investigate a case.”

“I’m just doing some regular follow-up, Sir,” Tim says, a bit defensively. Jon finally looks away from Elias towards Tim, and watches the crease between his brows deepen as Elias continues.

“Of course. I’m sure you were perfectly polite, Timothy. Mr. Abbott, however, was quite clear that he believes an investigation like this will hurt his carefully crafted image. And I just couldn’t help but wonder why you were contacting him when you were supposed to work on the… what was it, the case of Mrs. Mitchell, I believe? Regarding the disappearance of her cat?”

“Err. Yes, I-”

“Are the cases connected?” Elias asks, a sudden sharpness in his voice that makes Jon flinch. Tim’s mouth twists, as if he’s trying hard to suppress a grimace.

“I don’t believe so, no,” Tim says hesitantly. “I just thought-”

“In that case, I would advise you to focus on the work you were assigned, Mr. Stoker.” The tone in Elias’ voice makes it very clear that he won’t accept any objections. Nevertheless, the smile on his lips doesn’t falter. “We wouldn’t want to get any more complaints, would we?”

“I-” Tim stops himself, letting out a sigh. “Of course, Sir.”

“Since it seems you might have gotten bored with the Mitchell case, I’m sure you have already conducted all necessary research and can deliver the report to my desk by this evening. Or am I mistaken?”

Tim’s frown deepens, but he doesn’t protest. “Sure,” he grumbles.

“Excellent,” Elias says, the sudden sharpness in his voice gone as quickly as it came. He gives them both a short nod. “Have a good day, gentlemen.”

With that, Elias turns on his heels and walks away. He’s out of sight as soon as he turns a corner down the corridor, but still, Jon can’t help but stare after him. Beside him, Tim lets out a pitiful groan.

“This evening?” Tim buries his face in his hands. “I had until next week to do the report. I haven’t even started it.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon says with a wince. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Nah. Don’t think so. But thank you.” Tim looks up with a small smile and stands, wrapping up the remains of his sandwich. “I’ll best get back to work if I want to have this done by five.”

Jon lets out a small hum, but he’s still distracted by what just happened. Again, he stares down the corridor, as if Elias might reappear any second. He can’t shake the feeling of his eyes on him.

“Are you alright?” Tim asks. Jon startles a little and looks back at him. Tim is watching him with a quizzical expression on his face.

“Yes,” Jon says hesitantly, chewing on his bottom lip. “It’s just… that was strange, wasn’t it?”

Tim shrugs. “Yeah. But everything about Bouchard is strange.”

“I suppose. But this was...” Jon hesitates. This was more than strange, he wants to say. This feels like Elias doesn’t want us to investigate whatever is going on in that haunted flat. But that’s a silly thought, isn’t it? Jon shakes his head. “Nevermind. Good luck with the report.”

Tim gives him a pained smile. “Thanks,” he says miserably, and finally shuffles back towards his office.

That afternoon, as much as Jon tries to go back to his book, he can’t quite stop thinking. He can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong, in a way that makes him jittery and anxious and makes it impossible to focus on the words in front of him. He stays late to make up for it, and when he finally calls it a day, the other researchers that share his office have already left. Jon puts on his coat and grabs his bag, and goes to check on Tim.

The door to Tim’s office is still open, although all the desks are currently unoccupied. Tim’s desk is a bit of a mess, filled with piled up papers and books and too many empty cups of tea. With their earlier conversation about the case still on the forefront of his mind, Jon gives in to the temptation to step closer and skim through the texts scattered on the desk.

It doesn’t take long until his gaze falls onto what looks like the copy of a police report. Carefully, he pulls the paper out from underneath a book. It’s undoubtedly the missing person’s report Tim has mentioned. The address fits to the area of the case he was working on. Jon starts reading, and immediately stills.

It hits him suddenly that Tim had never mentioned the name of the missing person. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that there are actual people behind the cases they’re researching. But there’s the name, right next to a photograph.

In the photo, Martin Blackwood is looking directly at the camera, a small smile on his lips. Jon takes a moment to take him in - the pudgy cheeks covered in freckles, the sad eyes, the light brown hair falling in soft curls around his face. An actual person, with a life and friends and family who must wonder what has happened to him after he disappeared a year ago. Who maybe still have hope that one day, he will come back.

So far, Jon was only a little irritated that Elias intervened in their investigation. Now, he’s suddenly furious.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Jon pulls out his phone and takes a photograph of the report. He places it back on Tim’s desk and leaves.

As he walks to the tube station, he pulls up the address on his phone. He takes the train that goes in the opposite direction of where he lives, changes trains twice, and finally, half an hour later, steps out into the chill September air. By now, it’s already getting dark. Jon pulls up the collar of his coat to protect himself against the cold, and begins to walk towards the haunted flat where Martin Blackwood disappeared.

[kasienda]

Right Behind You - Chapter 1: Scandal

An Adrino Story - Friends to lovers Maybe the person you need is not the one you’ve had your eye on, but the one who’s been right behind you supporting you the whole time.  Chapter 1: Scandal Nino was awake.

Which was a crime.

His gig the previous evening hadn’t ended until well past four in the morning, and glancing at the glowing clock next to his bed it wasn’t even eight yet. He had managed maybe two hours of sleep.

And he could feel it everywhere in his body. The light peeking through the edges of his blackout curtains felt like an assault on his dry and irritated eyes. His left knee ached from a week-old injury caused by a bad landing during one of Carapace’s patrols. Even his thoughts felt like they were smothered in a thick cold fog.

He hated when the all night events hit on back to back days, but he needed the double pay at least a few times a month to afford his downtown Parisian apartment and without fail the requests for such events tended to land on the same weekend. No doubt, it would be worth it in a few hours. Once he had a cup or three of coffee. 

Or another five hours of sleep.

But his phone clearly had other plans as the blasted digital brick wouldn’t stop buzzing every few minutes. 

Nino left it in the other room every night to avoid this exact scenario, but he must have left it on some plastic container because the vibration was loud. And whoever this was, they were very insistent.

He sat up with a groan, very aware of the dull ache that stretched from one temple to the other. He let his head hang lifelessly to his chest.

The phone went off again. He glared through the open doorway. 

“I’ll make coffee.”

Nino tried to smile at the tiny green floating kwami, but it came out more like a grimace. “Thanks, Wayzz. You’re the best.”

He gave himself five minutes of just sitting with his blankets still wrapped luxuriously around him protecting against the chill of the morning. The phone had mockingly gone silent after almost ten minutes of near constant buzzing. He contemplated letting his head fall back to the pillows. But it was probably too late. Despite his fatigue, Nino was rarely able to go back to sleep.

He reached blindly to the small table beside his bed for his glasses, and then stumbled through his small apartment to the kitchen. Wayzz was already pouring black coffee into a cup.

Nino smiled at the ridiculous sight of the floating green creature handling an object twice its own size. It didn’t even look strange to him anymore. Really, Nino was unsure how he had ever gotten by without the constant support of the ancient kwami. 

He stepped forward to accept custody of the steaming beverage. He added a spoon of sugar and creamer. Before he could take his first sip, the blasted phone went off again.

Alya’s gleaming smile lit up his screen. He frowned at the device and immediately answered, even as he continued mixing his coffee. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“How do you do that?” her synthetic voice demanded from the other end of the line.

“Al, except for my birthday, you haven’t called me in two years,” he stated flatly. Why was she even asking? They texted quite often, and whenever she was back in Paris they usually would have lunch or hang out with their mutual friends. But ever since their break up, she had not called. 

Well, except for his birthday.

“And today is not my birthday. And it’s barely morning! You know that I’m never up before ten at the earliest and twelve is really a better bet. And you’ve been blowing up my phone clearly trying to get my ass out of bed. So I ask again, what is wrong?” he said slowly, emphasizing each word before he licked the spoon he was using to mix his coffee.

“Have you talked to Adrien lately?” 

His stomach dropped. This must be really bad news. Alya didn’t usually beat around the bush. She was more like a bulldozer that went straight through things. And if this was about Adrien… “Like three days ago. Why?”

His phone buzzed against his cheek immediately. He pulled it away to see the headline she sent him. 

Supermodel, Adrien Agreste, batting for the other team?

Keep Reading on Ao3

He already hated it, but that didn’t stop him from tapping on the link. Nino sucked in air at the sight of the picture. Nino has seen a lot of professional shots of Adrien over the years. This picture was gorgeous. Or, it would have been in absolutely any other context. 

The picture captured three quarters of Adrien’s face, but only a bit of his partner. His hair caught the light and gleamed gold, not quite as perfectly in place as it would have been in the morning. Like he had run his hands through it just a few times. His normally peach cheeks were dusted with pink and his eyes were closed. He was pulling away from a kiss with a fair-skinned man wearing glasses. But Nino’s eyes focused on his friend’s mouth. Adrien’s lips were upturned in the slightest little smile - the dopey one he had whenever he was talking about the mystery girl he loved.

And that was the only difference between all the professional shots Nino had seen over the years and the front page tabloid. In this picture, Adrien looked… happy. Genuinely so.

And now, that beautiful private moment was now plastered all over every gossip rag from one side of France to the other. 

Likely without Adrien’s permission. 

How unfair that one little moment of indiscretion outed him to all of Paris. 

Nino’s gut twisted painfully. 

All of Paris included Gabriel. Adrien had never told his father about being bi, and it was no wonder as the uptight bastard was an ice statue of propriety with absolutely no feelings. 

“It wasn’t at an event, Nino,” Alya explained. “It’s around the corner from that pub we used to frequent after lycee, almost in an alley outside a club. But the photo’s too good for some random person to have just seen him walking by at this time of day. The lighting should have been terrible and the photo grainy.”

“So?”

“The photographer knew Adrien was going to be there and that there'd be something worth taking a picture of.”

“Shit,” he cursed, his free hand gripping his own shoulder. “I gotta go.” 

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Thanks, Al, for calling. He never would.”

“I know. I might be terrible at keeping in touch, but maybe we could schedule a catch up?”

In spite of the circumstances, he found himself smiling. “I would like that. When are you back in Paris?”

“I’m here now actually. When else do I read trashy gossip rags?”

He laughed. “Fair. How long are you in town for?” 

“Just the long weekend, but I wasn’t going to tell anyone because I didn’t have a whole lot of time and I’m going to be back for like six months in just a few weeks. Then, I read this, and well…”

“Yeah, thanks for the head’s up.”

“Sorry for waking you up so early.”

“You already know this was worth it to me. Thank you.”

“Of course, Nino. Anytime. Now, go track down a certain unfairly attractive supermodel, and make sure he’s okay. I’ll start researching who this bastard is and see if I can ruin his day.”

Nino laughed. Alya was protective of her friends, and positively vindictive. It was a scary combination. But Nino had always loved that about her.

“Nino?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Tell him I love him, too. He’s not alone.”

He smiled again. “I’ll tell him. Thanks again, Al,” and then he ended the call.

He drained his coffee though it was still too hot. Because he definitely didn’t have time to nurse it, and he definitely was going to need the caffeine rush today. He then immediately called Adrien. 

His friend didn’t answer, so Nino called again because there was no way in hell Adrien wasn’t doom scrolling through feeds obsessing over this story.

And again.

On the fifth try Adrien finally answered.

“Did it ever occur to you that when someone doesn’t answer it might mean they don’t want to talk?”

Nino shook his head, put the call on speaker, and thudded back to his bedroom to find clothes he could wear in public. “Never in your case, dude! Where are you? I’m coming over.”

“You don’t have to,” Adrien objected. “What are you even doing up? Didn’t you have an event last night? I was counting on you sleeping until noon!” 

“It went late. I never went to sleep,” Nino lied. He didn’t want to mention Alya’s call or plan for revenge yet, or admit to a monster headache. If he did, Adrien wouldn’t let him come over. 

“You don’t have to come listen to my sob story,” Adrien insisted. “Get some sleep. This isn’t important. It was my own fault. I was stupid.”

Nino rolled his eyes. “Shut up. Where are you?” He pulled a white t-shirt over his head, and placed the phone back to his ear. 

Adrien remained silent on the other end. 

“Dude, if you don’t tell me where you are, I’ll call Chloé and Kagami for back up in tracking you down.”

There was a sigh over the phone. “I’m at the hotel.”

“Room number?”

“427.”

“Be there in fifteen,” Nino promised. He jumped into a pair of khakis, kissed the brim of his red hat before slipping it over his head, and went straight out the door.

“Fifteen minutes is cutting it a little close, young master,” Wayzz chided from his left shoulder.

Nino had long stopped trying to get Wayzz to drop the title. The creature was as stubborn as he was old.

“Not if we take the superhero express.”

Wayzz’s disapproving frown did nothing to dissuade Nino from his plans.

Adrien needed him.

…

The door whipped open barely a second after Nino’s knuckles had knocked. For a second, neither of them spoke. Nino studied Adrien’s face carefully for signs of upset. His friend’s eyes were bloodshot as if he’d been up all night, but they weren’t puffy, so he probably at least hadn’t been crying. And his lips were curled into a relieved smile.

Nino returned the expression before pulling Adrien into a hug.

“How did you get here so fast?” Adrien mumbled into Nino’s shoulder.

Nino pulled away, and followed Adrien into the small hotel room. “Trade secret,” he deflected, hoping the humor had Adrien rolling his eyes instead of insisting on an explanation.

Maybe Wayzz’s paranoia was somewhat justified. Not that Nino had any regrets. Adrien didn’t push, and instead immediately fell backwards on the pristinely made bed. His friend clearly hadn’t even attempted to get any sleep last night. His green eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.

Nino flopped on the bed next to him, lying perpendicular with their heads side by side. 

“So why the hotel?”

Adrien snorted. “The studio has paparazzi.”

“You could’ve crashed my place.”

“But you weren’t there.”

Nino’s head rolled towards his best friend. “So? You have a key.”

Adrien’s gaze remained glued to the ceiling. ”Maybe I’m just embarrassed and didn’t want to explain anything.”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” Nino said. “If you don’t want to talk, fine. But I’m here. And if you do want to talk, I’m here for that, too.”

And then Nino just waited, listening to Adrien’s uneven breathing. He suspected Adrien did want to talk. But it remained silent longer than Nino would have expected under the circumstances. And Nino was blissfully comfortable next to Adrien’s warmth and familiar presence and Nino’s caffeine boost was fading fast. He quickly found himself nodding off. 

“Promise you won’t judge?”

Nino started awake. 

“Nino?” Adrien rolled onto his side toward Nino.

“Yeah?” Nino responded, trying to disguise the crack in his voice. 

“You fell asleep, didn’t you?” Adrien observed dryly.

“No!” Nino denied for all he was worth.

Adrien sighed, returning to his back. “I told you that you didn’t have to come.” 

Nino shook his head. “Come on! Admit it. You wanted me to be here.” 

Adrien sat up on the bed. Nino met his green-eyed gaze easily. “Yeah…” Adrien admitted. “I did.”

Nino gave a slight nod. “So, I’m here.” 

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “I just… I hate being high maintenance.” 

“You’re not high maintenance,” Nino said gently for what had to be the millionth time over the last ten years. “Your asshole father just has you brainwashed into believing you have to handle it all yourself. But you don’t. And today, you’re having a bad day, so I’m here.”

“A horrible day!” Adrien agreed. “And it’s only just started.” 

Nino sat up, spun his legs to be at Adrien’s side, and then shoulder bumped his friend. “So, let me make the rest of it better.”

Adrien grinned. “Thank you. Thank you for being here.” 

“You don’t have to thank me for that, mec.”

“I know, but I want to.”

Nino scooted closer. “So, do you want to talk about what happened? Or do you want to be distracted?” 

“How about I tell you what happened, and then you can distract me?” 

“Sounds good, mec.”

“I met him at the university library,” Adrien began, his gaze on the far wall, and not on Nino. But Nino gave him his full attention anyway. “I was doing research for my thesis. And when he saw me fumbling with a stack of textbooks he just offered to help me put my reference books away. And he started talking about physics and when we were done, we just kept talking. We ended up downstairs in the student union just having coffee. It didn’t seem like he recognized me.” Adrien tugged at his blond locks. “I’m such an idiot! Of course, he recognized me. How can anyone not recognize me? My face is on every other billboard!” 

“It makes me feel like you’re always with me,” Nino joked.

Adrien responded with a flick from his middle finger to the brim of Nino’s hat, sending the red keepsake snapping off his head. 

“Hey!” Nino objected. “Anything but the hat.”

“Right. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine, mec,” Nino soothed. If there was one person Nino actually trusted with his older brother’s hat, it was Adrien. “So, what happened over coffee?” 

“Nothing really. Like I said, we just talked. It was nice. Or… I thought it was. We almost split there, but then he whirled back around and asked me out. He seemed genuinely interested, and I had really enjoyed talking to him, I thought maybe it was worth a shot! Especially after…” he trailed off. And yeah, Nino knew Adrien was still pining after this mystery girl he worked with after years of her saying no. “It just felt nice to be wanted.” 

And god, if it wasn’t always the same story.

“We went to dinner at this little cafe. You know, even if he was acting the whole time, he really was a fantastic conversationalist. It was just so easy! And I thought… we had a connection? It was just one kiss. But apparently, the whole thing was a set up. I knew as soon as the flash went off. They had a screen for lighting and everything.”

He must have been good, Nino surmised. Adrien hadn’t been tricked by one of these looking for a moment of fame since they were seventeen.

“But I should have known better. Nathalie always says to never go out the same day they ask.”

“What?! You didn’t give Nathalie time to write a twenty page report on your potential suitor?” Nino asked mockingly.

Adrien barked a laugh. “Twenty? Try forty!” Then his mirth faded. “But I hate it, Nino. I hate being so suspicious and cynical.” 

Nino clamped his hand onto Adrien’s shoulder and squeezed in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. 

“And I hate it more when she’s right,” Adrien added in a whisper. 

At those words, Nino pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry, dude. Wish the world was filled with more genuine people and less opportunists.”

“Yeah…”

It was silent again, and Nino was at a loss for how to fill it. But he definitely didn’t want Adrien spiraling in his thoughts for too long. 

“How’d your father take it?” It wasn’t the question Nino wanted to ask, but it was always best to get the Gabriel rant out of the way.

Adrien’s whole body went rigid in Nino’s arms. “I haven’t actually talked to him yet.”

Nino just hugged him harder. “How many times has Nathalie called?”

Adrien pulled away, and tossed him his phone. Nino unlocked it with practiced ease. Missed calls - three. Spaced exactly thirty minutes apart. Nino shook his head.

“That’s not that bad.”

“Bet she texts or calls you before she makes it to call number five,” Adrien countered.

Nino laughed. “You’re on. She’ll try you at least three more times. Anything in particular you want me to negotiate for?”

“I don’t want to talk to him today. Tomorrow is fine.” 

Nino waved his hand dismissively. “That one’s obvious, dude. I was thinking more like your working conditions in general?” 

“I would love it if we could move my fittings to early morning. Like super early. Five am? I’ve requested it before, but it costs extra to have a team there that early.”

Nino made a distasteful face. “I don’t know why you’d want to get up so blasted early.”

“I just want to get it over with so I have more time to study or hang out with my friends during the rest of the day. Is my company not worth a dawn wake up in your world?”

“This is my dawn! And here I am!”

Adrien’s grin faded. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“None of that!” Nino waved his arms dramatically. “We already established that when you need me, I am here!”

Adrien’s lips curled up into a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“So, are you okay?” Nino finally asked the question he had been wanting to ask since he arrived. Adrien had just been outed publicly.

Adrien shrugged. “Just embarrassed… mostly. You know I am comfortable with my sexuality. I was really only keeping it under wraps for father and the company.”

“Are you really okay?”

Adrien chuckled darkly. “How do you do that?”

Nino shrugged, his body going limp. “It’s my superpower, clearly. So you’re not okay, I take it?”

Adrien sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I was ready to be out with my friends, and the important people already know, but being outed publicly is terrifying. I feel so exposed. Like more than normal.

“And apparently, I do care what people think. But I hate that I care!” Adrien bit out, the bitterness and self-reproach clear in his tone. “I thought I didn’t, but I definitely do,” he added, his voice softer. “I wish I was brave enough not to.”

“Dude!” Nino objected. “You’re being too hard on yourself. It’s normal to not want to be judged. I know I wouldn’t want to be. Not when it wasn’t by choice.” Nino was out only with his closest friends. He had never talked to his parents. They weren’t exactly traditional, but they grew up in a country where homosexuality was met with prison time. Nino didn’t think they would disown him or anything, but he didn’t expect them to be thrilled. And he didn’t want to risk it. Not unless it was necessary.

Noël didn’t know either. Nino didn’t think his little brother would care, but Nino wasn’t confident Noël would remain discreet either. 

“Know that I’m with you every step of the way,” Nino promised. 

“Thanks, dude.” Adrien didn’t say anything more, but his blond eyebrows scrunched together so he was clearly thinking about something. “I definitely fantasized about my public coming out at some charity or something. Some event that could help the LGBTQ cause and community. And now it just feels so… tawdry. Like it’s just another sex scandal. And I feel like that possibility was stolen from me.”

Nino was quiet. “I’m sorry, mec. This wasn’t cool.”

Adrien shrugged. “And I’m maybe a little heartbroken. But I’m used to that.”

Nino’s chest tightened. It wasn’t fair. If anyone on this earth deserved love, it was Adrien.

“Anything I can do?”

“You’re doing it!” Adrien looked up and genuinely smiled, his green eyes impossibly bright. “You always do.” 

Nino smiled. “That’s because I love you, dude. You know that right?” 

“Yeah, man. Of course I do. And I love you, too.”

“What do you want to do for the rest of the day? Do you just want to hang out just the two of us? Or shall I invite the girls over?”

The girls meant Marinette, Kagami, and Chloé. But maybe Nino would include Alya as well since she was in town. 

“They will tear this guy to pieces.”

Nino nodded. “Exactly. He deserves it.”

“Do you think Marinette will actually come?” 

“I mean, I think if anything will bring her out of her cave of isolation to make you feel better, it would be that headline.” 

Adrien hesitated, another hand on his neck. “I don’t know… I don’t know if I want to face them. I’m so embarrassed. Chloé is going to give me hell for not seeing through this guy.”

Nino didn’t agree on that assessment. Chloé would definitely give him a hard time. But she’d do it at some point weeks or months in the future. She wouldn't tease him today. “If she does, remind her of the Antonia disaster!” 

Adrien laughed. Thank all the kwamis that that relationship had only lasted six months. Six long excruciating months. They had all hated Antonia, and not only because the feeling was mutual, but because she had torn Chloé’s sense of self worth into shreds. 

“Seriously mec, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We’ve all had colossal misjudgements in relationships. Like all of us.” 

“When has Marinette screwed up?” 

Nino’s laugh exploded from his chest. “Mec, you have no idea. Unfortunately, I am not at liberty to say.”

“What?! No fair! Why do you get to know, and not me?” 

Nino just shrugged. He probably would have had no trouble gossiping about Marinette to Adrien if so many of her secrets didn’t involve the blond in question. “I don’t make the rules. I just follow them.”

“What about you?” Adrien asked. “When have you screwed up in a relationship?” 

“Does a drunk hook-up count?” Nino asked.

“Depends! Were they cute?” 

“Not as cute as you,” Nino snarked back. 

Adrien actually blushed, and then just threw his arms around Nino again. 

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“For?”

“For being here despite my protests, for making me feel better.” 

Nino squeezes Adrien tighter. “Always, mec.”

“You can invite the girls, but can we do it at my place?”

“I thought your place had paparazzi.” 

“Just a van.”

Nino winced. That was almost worse than a crowd. A team on stakeout would be more invasive and they’d stick around for longer. 

They rolled to their feet. Neither had anything in the way of belongings and exited into the hallway.

“Which room is the gorilla staying in?” 

Adrien jerked his thumb towards the adjacent room. 

Nino knocked with a complicated staccato rhythm. The door swung open a few seconds later. 

“Morning, Big G!” Nino greeted enthusiastically offering a fist, which Adrien’s protector reciprocated, though his expression remained devoid of feeling. 

“We’re heading out,” Nino explained. “Back to his place. I’m ordering breakfast on the way. What do you want from Tom and Sabine’s?” 

The stoic man nodded and signed animatedly. 

Nino nodded. “Sounds good! We’ll meet you out front in fifteen.” 

Adrien shook his head as the door closed. “How is it that you know how to talk to him better than I do?”

“Sign language isn’t that hard, man. And I had motivation to learn!” 

It was hard to bribe a man if you didn’t speak his language.

…

Chapter 2

[witchersjaskier]

If you still feel up for writing some geraskier, I’d love to read the two professors fic with Jaskier as the bubbly constantly talks about his husband professor and Geralt as the doesn’t talk about personal life professor! Though i understand if you are not feeling up for AUs and only original universe stuff

i turned it around oops

||

Ciri enjoys her student life as much as the next guy. It’s not terrible and her roommate is actually pretty nice and her classes are okay. Her professors aren’t especially rude or demanding or unfair and her studies are going nicely.

This semester, she’s taking Music Theory elective because while she has no talent herself, she enjoys how something so magical and fluid can have such distinctive, mathematical theory. Besides, her professor is absolutely amazing and she loves him to death.

Professor Julian Pankratz is probably one of the most colorful people Ciri has ever met. He’s bright and kind and strict but fair. He can spend the whole class singing or strumming his lute while explaining, but also demands well-done essays and grades them fairly. He’s amazing.

Ciri is also sure he has to work for some kind of Intelligence Agency because he knows way too much dirt about important political figures and Ciri’s pretty sure she saw a set of knives in his desk. She has utmost respect for him and his bright stories of where he’s been and what he did. He tells them a lot about places he visted but never mentions his private life. They don’t know if he has kids or a pet or a partner or even how old is he really. She doesn’t mind, as his stories more than make up for it.

On the other end of the scale is professor Geralt Rivia who teaches a fair bit of her classes, as he works in the Faculty she’s trying to get her degree in. He’s quiet and stern and a bit rough but fair and understanding. He never speaks of anything but his subject with one exception - his husband.

Everyone knows about his husband but all they know is his name - Jaskier. It lead people to believe it must be a nickname, so they can’t even check the man online. Professor Rivia speaks of him quite often, just little snippets like ‘Those flowers are from him’ or ‘He stole my favourite dress shirt’ or ‘Our cat loves him more than me’. Ciri loves those little stories. Professor Rivia may be a man of few words but most of them are for his husband.

There are bets on the campus what kind of man Jaskier is and the general consensus is this - sweet, kind, probably very romantic, a bit cheeky. A complete opposite of the man himself but Ciri can absolutely see it.

Ciri likes her studies and she enjoys the gossip about her teachers a lot. 

An uproar happens when someone notices a golden band around professor’s Pankratz’s finger and the whole university almost goes up in flames. There’s gossip and speculation about what amazing individual captured the professor’s attention for more than a few weeks. Everyone knows that profesor Pankratz isn’t one to settle down, so it’s a shock for everyone involved.

Now there  are two giant mysteries - who’s Jaskier and who is professor Pankratz married to.

Ciri’s sure she would’ve asked more during her classes with Professor Pankratz but then the quarantine happens and she’s stuck in her flat with her roommate with online classes trying to happen. It’s absolute agony for the first 2 weeks and there are way too many group chats complaining about it. Eventually, those group chats end up being just gossip places where they discuss their professor’s interior design and offices and everything in between.

Her Music Theory chat is especially full of gossip, as everyone is trying to figure out if there are any pictures of Professor’s Pankratz husband and adding their theories.

There’s one theory that Professor Panratz isn’t even married and it’s just a ring because he enjoys jewellery but Ciri doesn’t believe that. It looks pretty similar to the one Professor Rivia always wears and-

Wait.

GUYSSSSSS what if theyre married to each other!!!!!

lol what

who 

PROFESSOR PANKRATZ AND RIVIA

The chat explodes with theories and she’s not even paying attention to whatever Professor Pankratz is saying because everyone is screaming in chat and she’s too excited to care. That’s why she doesn’t notice the professor smirk and turn around.

“Darling, come here for a moment please!” he calls and Ciri’s attention snaps to the screen.

The professor is wearing a smirk, not saying anything and then Ciri’s world collapses when Professor Rivia enters the room wearing a colorful shirt and loose sweatpants, a cat wrapped around his shoulders.

“You called?” he asks roughly, not aware that the video is still going.

Professor Pankratz pulls the other man close and kisses him in full view of the camera, as their chat explodes even more, people doing screenshots of their screens, screaming over the muted audio talk.

Ciri just sits there, shocked.

“For your information, Miss Priscilla was right, we’ve been married for 20 years now. Please do your homework and see you next week.”

With a wink to the camera, Professor Pankratz ends their class, leaving them all reeling.

“What the fuck?” she whispers to herself, feling entirely too stupid. “What. The. Fuck.”

[its-chelisey-stuff]

I watched “Imitation” and it was surprising (... okay, I loved it!)

Full disclosure: If you haven’t the slightest interest in kpop, not even in the drama or juicy gossip that produces, this won’t be your thing. I know it’s not a drama for everyone. Stop reading. Just know that OTP (and most characters) had a happy ending but there was a bunch of drama to achieve it. Typical. And a death may or may not have been in the mix.  

Well well well... I'm pleasantly surprised, that's the perfect three word review for this drama. It would seem that when those little projects that come out of nowhere and you have no expectations about, turn out to be even a little big good, they made the strongest impression. And this drama is up there in my top 3 of favorite dramas of the year, it has my heart.

Yes, it was about kpop idols and 90% of the cast was made of idols (even one from the very first kpop gen hahaha), yet the acting was decent (and from some, truly great), yes sometimes it got a bit cheesy and silly and yes, there was a ton of drama concerning fans, reporters, dating scandals and bad and greedy CEOs of entertainment agencies BUT it was also sweet, really romantic, funny, lively, full of music (I'm OBSESSED with the last OST which was sung by the whole cast, it makes me FEEL things) and dancing, it had lots friendship and found family AND at times, it was heartbreakingly tragic.

I think this drama tried to tell the audience two important lessons, worthy of mention: the first, work hard for your dreams, don't give up on them but also, you never know what opportunities might come your way that could end up changing your direction and perhaps make you chase something that you never thought you would, so persevere, breathe and hang in there just a bit more; the second, one that we all know if you have a little bit of sense and even if you are mildly informed about the k entertainment which is that idols are just people(most of them teens when they debut some not even 18) who want to and deserve to have a pretty f-ing normal life, so f-ing let them! the consequences of putting these youngsters over a pedestal are catastrophic and there are real life, heartbreaking, examples of this.

Main characters

Ryok: the Golden Boy of kpop, from the most popular boy group, also a an actor (a decent one? Idk they never said). Perfect in every single aspect, except when he is nice to girls who aren't his fans, then they will crucify him. SUPER clumsy whenever his crush is nearby and does something he finds cute, otherwise super cool and chill. Also great at pining for his crush. A romantic, which means he chose the worst career path. My favorite character.

Maha: A bright and optimistic girl with a strong might of perseverance in going after her dreams. Loves dancing. Very sweet and very tiny. Despite appearances, she's not a pushover or weak FL. And that's why I loved her.

Yujin: Second ML by the book. Became an idol because he was pursuing FL (who in turn was pursuing ML). The only reason why I never hated him is because he was a great friend, knew he wasn't doing anything healthy and decided to end his one sided love and opened his eyes. Two words: Character development *chef's kiss*

LaRiMa: A soloist. A Queen. At the start, it looked like she was the typical and mean second FL. But she wasn't, and I adored her for that. She had a heart of gold. She deserved the world, and she knew that so she made decisions accordingly (a Queen chases no one, least of all a man!) lol best character in the drama and my second favorite character (sorry Maha!)

Also starring: The members of SHAX (the leader, SF9′s Hwiyoung, the maknae from Ateez and the funny guy who spoke random english) the group of Golden Boy. Tea Party members (bffs with FL, Riah and HyunJi), Maha’s group. Sparkling members (the very angry and frustrated leader and two members of Ateez whose names I don’t know), second ML group. AND in the longest and most important cameo (ala Go Kyung Pyo in My roommate is a Gumiho) SF9′s Chani, a former member of SHAX, who disappeared into thin air one day.

The story

On paper it doesn't sound like anything groundbreaking (and tbh it really wasn't lol): a story about idols who willingly chose their career path, trained for years while underage, got treated like products by ugly men in suits and realized it kinda sucked, especially when you don't become a hit group and have to protect your personal life like it's a dirty secret that could damage your image and maybe end your career this is why I said it’s not a show for everyone. But this drama is what Dream High 2 (2012) wanted to be and never could in the aspect of actually making you feel something for these idols and the situations they were facing while loving the musical side of the show and making it all believable.

Even if it's not exactly about teens in high school sort of thing, it does give you the same hopeful and uplifting feeling of a coming of age story, especially because the characters are still youngsters trying to be happy and realize their dreams for the future.

You can just stop reading here if you want to go watch the drama with no spoilers. And if I haven’t convinced you despite not being appalled by kpop themed dramas, then I guess you should keep reading lol or trust in my taste and judgement when I say the story is worth it (but to be fair the first two eps are a bit slow).

The romance (super spoilery!)

At the core, this show was a love story. What started the plot is the fact that main couple reunite in the same work field as idols, and they actually met and befriended each other years ago; so being older and able to spent more time together brings them closer to finally accept and give into their feelings, but soon enough their relationship becomes a ticking bomb threatening their careers and then this big mystery of how and why SF9' Chani disappeared and abandoned the group becomes really important in the last third of the drama

Because once upon a time, Chani had a gf but she was still a trainee so once their love was exposed (the truth of who exposed him is devastating) and their respective companies threatened them, it all becomes too much too fast and with seemingly no other way out, the girl makes a terrible decision, that ends up changing the lives of most of the characters.

I’m sure this is from a bts but their chemistry was really good and sweet. Also, height difference to die for!!

Yet, there is a happy ending for main couple but it's only achieved after certain people learn from their mistakes and support Ryok and Maha, which makes it clear that no matter how in love and willing you are to face adversities for and with your loved one, you still need a support system (and maybe the right people in a position of power) because sometimes two against the world isn't as romantic as it sounds, but sad and lonely.

And the main reason why I loved this is because of the way the show drew a parallel between the two most important couples in the story and tells the audience “had it been even a year before, under different circumstances and less luck, had they had no friends and no people to support them, main couple would’ve ended in the same tragic way” and I think that is a haunting realization. That also makes you appreciate things.

*cries* they were adorable

The bad (spoilers!)

I do wish this drama would’ve elaborated on some bits that were really worth diving into, or that it would’ve shown how some things came intro fruition instead of just skipping it and showing rigth away the outcome of conversations that were never had or reunions never shown. It is clear to me that they wanted to make the drama longer and could have told a better story had it been a 16 ep show. 

Basically yes, the main story, main romance and side couples' arcs got resolved but ugh a list of plot holes:

Why was LaRiMa so obsessed with Ryok for half the drama? The minute the girl knew he was dating someone he truly liked, she gave up right away, so I gotta believe the only reason she didn’t quit on him before, is because he did gave her a reason to hold onto him. Perphaps they dated before? Or maybe they like each other at one point? I can only do fanfiction in my head to explain this.

Why was the angry leader of Sparkling such a bitter bitch? How did he end up in another company?

I wanted to see SF9′s Chani reunion with his ex-members from SHAX.  It NEEDED to happen. At least they showed Chani with Ryok (which was really emotional) but arrgh.

Also, Chani deserved a kneeling apology from SHAX leader, I mean, come on!!

If everyone knew about Maha and Ryeok at some point, they needed to use that. You can’t just have a bomb like that in your drama and not use it. Is a principle of storytelling. You can’t just have the thing that your main characters fear the most, in your hands, and do nothing about it. But I guess it was not done because of lack of time.

Also, they never showed how they announced their relationship. Instagram post? Company statement? An exclusive to Dispatch? And how did the fans took it?? Answers, drama! Damn it!!

Final thoughts

Despite its many flaws, I loved it. It had heart. It seemed low budget and even more so due to the fact that it was done in the middle of the pandemic and a big part of kpop are the fans and concerts, you know what makes it all the more big and shinier. But the drama people and the actors put effort into it, and you could tell (and the fact that there were also original songs and choreographies made for this drama amazes me, and that they chose to promote the drama by having some of these fake groups perform on actual music shows). So there you go, I wholeheartedly recommend it.

Before I finish, let me just say that the actor who played Ryok is a REVELATION in my eyes.This boy needs to stay in dramaland and get more main roles (and after some research I’m happy to say that he is thriving!!). Also, he has great timing for comedy. The actress who played Maha elevated the quality of every scene she was in. (Not for nothing she was God in DAYS). Jiyeon (LaRiMa) was excellent. It really showed at times that she’s not only an experienced idol but also an experienced actress. The contrast with most of the cast was noticeable, sadly. The drama wouldn’t have been the same without these three.

Also, watch AND listen to the last OST sung by the whole cast here. Beautiful song that just makes you cry if you’ve seen the drama.

[justcourttee]

Trigger warning: After posting one too many of Lila’s lies, the ladyblog faces severe backlash and lawsuits. One of the recent is from a respected journalist that Lila lied about being friends with their kid. Alya is facing defamation and the journalists Child had recently passed away further upsetting the latter. Alya tried to explain, but Lila quickly throws her under the bus. This is not Bashing, except actions have consequences and have to live with them. Lila salt is welcome though

I hope this is kind of what you were thinking about. I did my best to keep it as accurate as I could with French Law :)

Here

Alya couldn’t believe she was here.

As she stared at the multitude of cameras, all vying for her attention, she felt the sudden need to make herself smaller. Nino’s strong hand on her back, urging her forward gave her the strength she needed to make it up the courthouse steps. Her eyes scanned the crowd looking for one person in particular but alas, they were nowhere to be seen.

Instead, she found two people she had hoped would miss this little event. Front row stood Marinette and Adrien, they’re eyes feigned with concern as she took the last step before the entrance. If only she could reach them, get them to testify on her behalf, but why would they change their minds now? It’s not like she hadn’t begged them too at the beginning of the month before everything had gone south so quickly.

As the doors were opened, the blinding light subsided as she was quickly ushered to a small room away from her adversaries that had lined the hallways, all ready to testify against her. She couldn’t believe how many there were.

“We should be safe here Miss Césaire, you didn’t talk to anybody on your way in, right? Journalists are like sharks, one small taste of blood and they’ll turn it into a frenzy.”

Alya scoffed at her attorney. She knew how journalism worked. You needed to make the story big and eye-catching otherwise nobody would bother to read it. It’s why she loved Lila so much. With her, the LadyBlog never had a dull moment.

“We have thirty minuted to prepare. Normally, they would not allow this public prosecution, but you and your friend have managed to upset a lot of people, Miss Césaire.”

Alya bit her tongue as she sunk lower in her seat. Where was her friend now? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “All rise for the honorable Judge Bethany Abadie.”

Alya stood slowly, trying not to let her stance waver as the sound of dozens of cameras sounded through the room.

“You may be seated.”

She felt a small hand lightly press down on her shoulder as her attorney tried to get her to sit, but she couldn’t. She felt frozen in place. Seeing the judge made everything feel so real and not seeing her made Alya see red.

“Miss Césaire, I suggest you sit down. Your charges today are quite serious under the eyes of French law and with the number of people attempting to sue your website, you better hope your defense team has an ace up their sleeve.”

It was like something snapped inside of her as she curled in on herself, trying her best to disappear in front of the courtroom.

“Now, let’s get started. In the case of the people of France vs. Alya Césaire, the defendant is charged with defamation of character and defamation of the deceased. How does the defendant plead?”

“Not guilty, your honor.”

Her eyes wandered over to her defense attorney who looked no better than she did when the words came out of his mouth.

“I see, you were given an option to accept the price that the collective individuals offered you in addition to taking down your blog, instead you chose to fight their lawsuits. You do realize Miss Césaire that if the jury finds you guilty on these charges, that could mean up to a year in jail in addition to €12.000 per assailant?”

Alya mustered enough strength to nod much to the judge's dismay.

“Very well then, the prosecution team may lead with their first witness.”

One by one, every scoop she had posted unfolded and crumbled before her eyes. Jagged Stone denying writing a song for her friend, denying ever having a ‘filthy feline’. Clara Nightingale denying her friend’s involvement in any of her choreography, claiming it would be child labor. And worse of all, Nadja Chamack and her claim that her friend never knew her daughter, that Alya saying her child was brash and rude and an overall unpleasant kid was defamation.

“And what proof do you have that my client isn’t telling lies about your daughter, you do know that every child is different when they’re away from their parents.”

Alya breathed a sigh of relief as her attorney laid into the reporter. Just maybe, she had a chance of walking out of here unscathed.

“Because she’s dead.”

An eerie silence fell over the courtroom as Alya’s face ashened. No. That couldn’t be true. She had seen Manon the other day. She just knew she had. She went over to Marinette’s and the girl was there, as bratty as ever. But now she couldn’t remember the last time she had been to Marinette’s.

“How long has she been dead?”

“Councilman, I object!” The judge’s hammer slammed down, echoing throughout the room.

“No, no, it’s alright. Those two monsters need to hear what they put me through.”

Nadja met Alya’s eyes, not even bothering to wipe the tears that streamed down her face as righteous anger poured into her stare.

“My daughter died five months ago, a terrible car accident. I begged my team to leave it out of the report and only told my closest friends and family. The funeral was a week later and my heart remained shattered at the thought that some reckless driver hadn’t paid attention to her crossing the crosswalk, just like I had taught her.”

Nadja took a breath, trying to level her voice as the lump in Alya’s throat grew bigger.

“Three months ago, I ran across the Ladyblog. While it had mostly turned into a gossip column for this Lila Rossi person, I used to check it all the time when it had just started out. I honestly considered Alya as the next big reporter as she was always at the scene throwing herself into danger to get the scoop. It was admirable.”

Her praises caused the girl to flinch as if she had been struck.

“But as I clicked on the newest video labeled ‘Angel or Devil?: Is Manon Chamack really as everyone believes her to be?’, my heart immediately sank. Both girls sat on-screen as Lila Rossi went on for ten whole minutes about the time she babysat Manon during my interview with Prince Ali. She said my baby was a horror show and Alya agreed saying the few times she had helped Marinette were nightmares.”

Nadja lost her composure as the final word fell out of her mouth. Her tears were ugly as she barely managed an audible ‘could I be excused?’. The judge nodded calling for a recess before allowing the defense team to call their testimonies on character, but Alya couldn’t move. Nadja’s face was burned into her mind. She waited until the courtroom was cleared before standing, trying her best to swallow the lump in her throat but to no avail.

As her feet trudged behind her attorney, she kept replaying Marinette’s words from the beginning of the month.

‘You don’t want me to be expert testimony to your character because I’ll tell them the truth. And I’d doubt you’d like that very much at all.’

She couldn’t understand where all that anger had come from, all that pain, but now she did. Alya didn’t even want to know what her attorney had up his sleeve because honestly? She felt like she didn’t deserve a defense at all.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Only one testimony?”

Her attorney nodded weakly as the judge sighed, probably already having determined Alya’s fate. She knew if it was her up there looking down on someone else, she would have given the maximum punishment the court allowed.

“The defense calls to the stand Lila Rossi.”

Alya sat up straight in her seat, her blood running cold as the sly fox breezily took the stand. Her smirk was brief and directed toward the auburn-haired girl, but it dropped into fake sympathy, a single forced tear rolling down her face.

“What can you tell us about Alya Césaire?”

“Oh goodness, where do I start?” Lila brought a tissue up to her eyes, lightly dabbing at the nonexistent tears.

“She coerced me into telling all those terrible lies about the good people of Paris. Every single one of my interviews was typed up and rehearsed several times before we even shot the tape. Here’s the proof,” With a fake sob, she handed the judge several transcripts, all seemingly printed from Lila’s email.

Alya clenched her fists underneath the table. She was lying. Straight through her teeth. Alya was wondering how Lila managed to evade the charges that were on both of them, but here it was lying in front of her. Lila was going to throw her under the bus.

“She’s a monster. She ditched her own best friend because she wouldn’t lie for her on the stand. She threatened to make everyone hate me if I didn’t keep up the lies. She knew about my disease and took advantage of it.”

Alya gritted her teeth as her attorney tried his best to get the girl off the stand, but it was too late. The damage had been done. One look at the jury and Alya knew. She was done for. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . …

The jury took a whole thirty minutes before they returned with her verdict.

Guilty.

€48.000 to settle each lawsuit, the permanent closure of her LadyBlog, and 300 hours of community service. Lila received none of it.

“That’s not fair!”

Alya’s head whipped around to where the voice came from, her eyes landing on her former best friend.

“Young lady, I advise that you sit down and allow this court to adjourn peacefully. The verdict has been decided.”

“But Lila was just as much a part of this as Alya. In fact, if you even bothered to look at the interviews, Lila egged her on, there’s no way it was all scripted. Scrub Alya’s computer, I bet you won’t find a single email.”

“Young lady, I’ll give you one more chance, Sit down.”

Marinette opened her mouth, but she abruptly closed it when she felt a soft touch on her shoulder. Her gaze shifted down to where Alya stood, a small smile peeking through her tears.

“Thank you Marinette, I really do appreciate it, but it’s time I took responsibility. I should have never trusted her too good to be true stories in the first place. I should have never hurt my best friend in the first place.”

Marinette hesitated, but as she stared into the auburn-haired girls glassy eyes, she understood as well. With a nod, she returned to her spot between Adrien and Nino, her own eyes glazing over as she watched her former best friend escorted out by her attorney and a few cops.

Once more, Alya was blinded by the flashing lights as she was ushered to her attorney’s car. As the doors shut firmly, her attorney released a sigh before jumbling his keys around, trying to find the ignition.

“Well, it could’ve gone worse if we’re honest here.”

Alya didn’t bother to respond. She simply stared out the window, her mind racing at a thousand miles a minute. Only one thought stood prominent above the rest.

Alya couldn’t believe she was here.

[captainjimothycarter]

So silly image of sorts based on cousins, but Peggy and Steve vs other parents regarding their kid because their kid takes after serumed daddy and is big for his age. Someone giving them shit for being terrible parents cause their 'obviously' pre-school aged child is throwing a fit and the snap back that the kid is a year, 18 months, not pre-school don't expect a big kid just because he's tall/broad for his age, he's still a baby etc.

Okay maybe less funny but over protective Steve really wanted to showcase himself.

--

They knew that there was going to be problems down the road with Steve having the serum and he and Peggy trying for kids.

Howard had given his own input or two and it was nothing more than, “We simply don’t know what will happen, kid. It’s all guessing games. Peggy’s pregnancy could either be completely normal six, seven, eighteen months or she could have the kid in six and the kid be fine or worst.”

Peggy’s lips pursed slightly, taking Steve’s hand into her own. Their wedding bands gently brushed one another as she did. “First off, do you not know how long a woman is pregnant for, Howard? Nine months! Nine months. How…” She pinched the bridge of her nose and waved off anything he said in explanation.

“Second,” she continued with a huff. “What do you mean worse?”

Here now, Howard looked sheepish, more so for the worse than the lack of knowing how long a woman was pregnant for. “Well...when we first met Steve he did have that laundry list of problems and-”

“You mean our kid could be like how I was?” Steve interjected, interrupting an annoyed-looking Howard. “They could-could-”

“Hold up, before you start spiraling, Stevie.” Howard’s hands flew up, raised to defend himself and stop Steve from starting to panic. “I said could. If. Maybe. It’s a possibility, a slight possibility that we have to consider, even if I don’t think it’s possible. That serum coursing through your veins rewrites DNA. Genetics. Your little kid is more likely to have that serum than to have any laundry list of your problem.”

But it was still something they had to think about and Steve was struggling to wrap his mind around that.

All through Peggy’s pregnancy, that problem remained in the back of his head. It was a possibility. No matter how much he tried to reassure himself with the countless doctors and even Howard saying that Peggy was doing outstanding for her pregnancy, how big the baby was, and what naught.

It was still there, no matter how much he tried to drown it with optimistic thoughts.

It wasn’t until Chester Micheal Carter-Rogers was born at ten pounds and nine ounces, twenty-five inches in length did Steve breathe a sigh of relief. Even if Chest was three weeks early and Peggy had to have a c-section.

Peggy and baby were both fine and Steve was grateful, so, so, so grateful.

That’s when the problems began to show how it would be to raise a child with the serum. How much of the serum and if they’d later possess super-human strength, no one was sure. Not even Howard. It was all development.

At three months, Chester was already sitting up on his own and responding to his name with a toothless smile. At five months, he was holding his own bottle and loving to play with his parents. At six months, started the teething.

“Well, at least he doesn’t have your strength,” Peggy tried to joke as Chester chewed on the slushy-texture pacifier. “Else he would’ve bitten my nipple straight off with those three teeth halfway coming in. If he bites my nipple, we’re having a problem, mister.”

Chester just giggled at his mama’s finger and gripped at it, making Steve give that half-smile of relief.

Chester was eight months before he said his first word, “Broom!”

Steve dropped the broom he was holding, looking down at the heavy boy strapped to his chest. He’d dropped a glass earlier and was trying to clean it up, having strapped his baby boy to him so he wasn’t hurt. “Did you just…?”

Chester grinned a whole eight teeth in his mouth now. “Broom! Broom!”

“You just…” Steve swallowed, feeling faint and overwhelmed with pride as he picked the boy up and hugged him. “You spoke!”

It was near the year mark did Howard point something out over dinner. “You know...Chester has never been sick.”

Peggy shared a look with Steve, clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth. Steve lowered his fork and looked at their baby that he was feeding mashed-up food. “That’s true,” she said carefully after a moment of thought. “Not even a fever, a cold. I wasn’t sickly as a child but I had my fair share of colds as an infant and Lord knows you did too, Steve.”

“I think it’s safe to confirm that Chester has Steve’s serum,” Howard mused as if no one had already thought about that. “Good for him.”

--

Other parents started to notice the developments too during their daddy and me! classes. There were some snide remarks on how big their boy was for a one-year-old.

“Thirty-two pounds!” Gretta hissed, glaring at where Steve was showing Chester and the other kids how to blow bubbles. “He said Chester is thirty-two pounds and thirty-five inches! Can you believe that? Look at how big he is!”

Steve huffed in annoyance and tried not to let the other gossip get to him. It wasn’t until Peggy stormed home one day after a grocery trip with Chester, the little boy sniffling like he’d been crying did it hit him how rude the other parents were.

“I ran into our darling neighbor today,” she noted, slamming the eggs down on the counter.

Steve flinched and hope they weren’t broken as he finished buttoning up Chester’s pants after he’d taken him to the bathroom. “Darling,” he warned, knowing how sensitive Chester was to emotions. “Which neighbor?”

“Oh, the wonderful and perfect Kelly and her perfectly normal daughter Jackie. Don’t you know how perfect they are?”

Steve watched as she half-aggressively put up the groceries, only stopping her when she almost dropped the barely-survived eggs. “Peggy,” he breathed, cupping her jawline. “What did they say?”

“Chester went to hug Jackie as normal - he’s fascinated with other kids and you know him, doesn’t know his own strength, and is just getting the hang of walking right. He fell into Jackie and pushed them both down and Kelly acted like he had punched her daughter. She told me to keep my monster of a child away from her and her family. I told her then she needs to keep her husband home and away from his mistress on business trips.”

Steve’s lips pursed and looked over to Chester playing with his blocks, sighing. Yeah, he got that. The neighbors were not the most polite about Chester’s rapid growth. It’s not like they could say he was Captain America and Chester had some percentage of the super-soldier serum.

“Well, maybe she’ll learn to keep her mouth shut,” he grunted, taking the eggs from her to safely put in the fridge.

--

In the two months since that incident, Chester was speaking more, learning new words every day. He was even speaking full sentences and could name objects. Now he was walking by himself, kicking a ball back and forth, and even sang songs.

Unfortunately, that meant that Peggy had, of course, taught their son The Man With The Plan.

Right now, none of that mattered. Not when Chester, his beautiful son with his downy soft blonde hair, and hazel eyes, was screaming in the buggy. Not that Steve blamed his son, really. The kid was hot and icky and tired and after several boosters from the doctor, he wouldn’t want to be in public either.

But grocery trips had to be had.

And it didn’t help that Kelly shouldered by them, dragging her daughter and loudly stating that Jackie wasn’t allowed to hug Chester or even look at him.

Now how do you explain that to a child who’s already in a bad mood? You don’t.

Steve had given up on comforting Chester beyond rubbing his back and whispering to him as he looked at the options of oatmeal. He was still sniffling and hiccuping loudly and screaming every so often, even if Kelly had insisted on staying on the aisle with them.

“If that was my daughter,” she droned on without anyone asking her, “I would’ve taught her right and told her tantrums to get you nowhere, especially at that age.”

“And what age might that be?” Steve challenged, standing up and laying a hand on the cart. Chester’s little fingers wrapped around his middle finger to try to suckle on. Poor buddy. Still had that tooth coming in.

“Four, isn’t he?”

Steve just blinked at her, scooping Chester up to try to ground him. God, he wishes Peggy was here. She wouldn’t keep her temper in check as much as he was, but her comfort was greatly needed.

“You know damn well that our kids were born the same year, just months apart, and your daughter, who’s now pulling open the boxes of grits, by the way, is three months older than Chest. And by the way, Kelly, Chest is only eighteen months old! He’s just big for his age and upset because you’re a terrible mother who insists that our kids can’t play together.”

“Well-well-” Kelly stomped to her child and ripped the box from her hand, jerking her up. “He’s too big! He’ll hurt her! He’s nothing but a m-”

Steve didn’t feel his feet moving him until he was in front of the woman about to call his child a monster. He cradled Chester closer to him and glared down at her.

“Finish that sentence, I dare you. You and I both know damn well that Paul isn’t the father of your child and unless you want him to know…” The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he stepped back fixed Chester in his arms. “Come on, Chest. I know mommy is waiting for us at the house. Are you ready for our big move, huh? Away from judgemental neighbors who can’t keep themselves in check, yeah? We’ll find new friends for you to play with who don’t mind how big you are. Yeah, we will!”

--

It might’ve taken two months from moving from Brooklyn to DC and to finally get their house in order but Chester was a lot happier here.

More room to play around in, even having three play dates lined up in the last week with new neighbors who didn’t seem to mind their son was a little more advance.

It wasn’t until the four-month mark hit and Peggy came home from a doctor appointment within Shield did Steve feel the familiar dread hit him as she silently handed him a blank envelope.

Two sonograms were laid inside. One labeled baby a and the other baby b.

“Twins,” he breathed, looking over to Chester rolling his ball after the cat. “We’re having...twins.”

Peggy, seeing the familiar look pulled him in for a comforting kiss. “We are, but at least we have practice with Chester. And no judgemental Kelly around here.”