#tries to write with 3 seconds of silence: I am going to commit a Crime

[lesbianwyllravengard]

Devastating! I Can't Write a Single Word of My Fic Because I'm Too Overstimulated to Listen to Music but Too Distracted to Go Without Sound

[shiny-jr]

damnation (peek VI?)

Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Ortho Shroud, Idia Shroud.

Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

Note: I was looking back at previous sneak-peeks and I realized I've been kinda spoiling y'all with these. But, don't ever let it be said that I don't cherish y'all, so here you go. While I'm currently about 2/3 of the way towards completing the result (if I don't have to rewrite it or change scenes or do anything major), the sneak-peek is only about eight or nine pages. Which is still a lot when you consider that the end result will be anywhere from 42 to 45 pages. Let's hope that I continue writing at this steady pace. I will not give a date for when this is fully completed, so please don't ask! It's done when it's done.

I . . . II . . . III . . . IV . . . V . . . VI . . . VII

THE LORD OF THE UNDERWORLD

Cold metal. There was a slight weight on the top of your skull, like the heft of a helmet. Carefully reaching up, your fingers touched thin cold metal, but as you tried to gingerly remove it, it failed to come off. Gentle tugs become harsh pulls, but that only serves to form an ache in your head as if you were pulling on your hair. Was it some sort of deadly contraption placed on prisoners? Was this how they wanted you to die? By crushing your skull with this thing? 

“Wh– Where am I…?”

As you stumbled over your own two feet, you stopped yanking on the metal on top of your cranium. Fear took root as you took note of your surroundings, dark and unfamiliar, those same qualities as the jail cell but this was unlike any prison. There were high walls with columns of gray and silver and gold, arched ceilings that were mixes of blues and grays and blacks which almost looked like painted murals that had been smeared across the surface. The floor was freezing like cement, but it was a smooth polished dark gray. With at least two floors, the second was accessible by some wide curved stairs which lead to more of the unknown. Your voice echoed in the space, leaving you to believe you were completely alone. 

Skull-crushing could still be on the list of possible ways to die. Or would your punishment be isolation? Complete solitude was known to drive people insane. It didn’t even seem like a single soul alive was here, leaving only the sound of your heavy breathing in the otherwise unsettling silence. White flowers from large vases wilted, their petals suspended gray and limp like hanged bodies.

On the floors you nearly slip and hit your head, but you manage to grab a nearby column that was as thick and sturdy as an old oak tree. That’s when you caught sight of your reflection in a nearby huge vase coated with a reflective exterior. You were staring wide-eyed at an unfamiliar figure, so odd that it took a moment to register that it was truly you. 

A long black cloth with dark blue meander borders acted like a shirt or a robe, wrapping over one shoulder and extending in different directions to act like a small cloak and cover part of your legs. From your hips to your ankles covered by part of the top cloth, were a pair of black pants with more blue meander borders decorating it. They were like modern day sweatpants and an ancient palla all in one outfit, which you might’ve admired if you weren’t currently filled with confusion and dread. That metal object on your head was like a headpiece, with two long thin black protruding pieces slicked back that glowed a slight blue. Like a demon’s horns. Impossible to remove. 

You resembled a demon with these horns, a devilish little imp. When your eyes adjusted, the reflective surface of the vase was painted. Painted black and browns, like the famous Athenian ceramic styles with figures of black and brick red. Except, each vase depicted a different scene. A powerful muscled figure standing proudly and holding a bolt of lightning; a baby strangling two large snakes; a young scrawny man training beside a satyr and a pegasus. 

“Get– these off…!”

An imp… you were an imp! Horror spread across your features, and the constant tugging to remove the metallic horn-like objects from your skull served pain stronger than a slap, to let you know that this was no dream. The judges had cast the final verdict, and as soon as you arrived you were destined to live as a miserable little creature to serve a higher being. A god. 

A God of the Underworld, that wielded the deadliest of blue flames and kept all souls contained within his land of misery. A being of divinity who envied his family and others who dwelled high in the clouds of Mount Olympus, so he planned meticulously for years to lay siege to the mountain by freeing titans who would wreak havoc across the globe. Just as he sits on the throne where the God of Thunder and King of Gods once dwelled, the human son of that royal god arrived to face the dark god. That gloomy and dreary antagonistic god had three main underlings, two of which were imps he regularly abused and tormented. 

Maiming, wringing their necks, burning them in blue fire, those were just some of the torture those imps faced at the hands of their master. You felt yourself fall to your knees in a heap, like a rag doll, by the overwhelming emotions weighing in your mind and the now new burden of survival on your shoulders. This was hell, literally. So caught up with this newfound revelation, that you didn’t even notice the vases become blank as if by magic, wiping the depicted scenes off their surface. Hallucinations! 

These must’ve been hallucinations formed by your unstable mind–– You were especially sure of it when it felt as if the ground vanished beneath your feet and were surrounded by dark mists. The dark and elegant place you had once stood in, was gone, and you plunged into a dark pit. A small plunge, then you fell on rocky uneven earth, leading you to fall flat on your face. There was hardly any light, and the ceiling was low. But, there was a blue flame, a small glow to which you opened your eyes to. 

In front of you was a young boy that looked more akin to an android. Surely, another illusion, but your certainty wavered when it blinked at you. It blinked with its wide bright yellow eyes. Its eyes were like a light, as was its hair made of what seemed like real blue flames that was like a torch in this small cave. Its body was dark and metallic, part of those metals extending over the mouth like a mask. “There you are! I was beginning to wonder if you chickened out. Are you ready to put on a show? Remember, we gotta make it believable, the hero won’t be the only one there! We gotta trick all the humans!” 

“W-What…?” You watched as the android-like being opened up a hologram in front of him, and on the screen of light were various shapes and figures of numerous creatures and people alike. 

Whatever this thing was, its voice became monotone for a brief few seconds as its pointer finger landed on the image of a normal young boy. “Selecting… Loading… Finalizing appearance.” In an instant, a light flashed over him and he became that little boy in the hologram. “What do you think? Pretty convincing, huh? Now, your turn!”

If you squint, it was like peering through glass, because at some angles you could still see the android. However, you had absolutely no time to question it, or the situation at hand, or what he could’ve possibly meant, because the quiet was shattered by the squeal of what sounded like a horse. 

Scrambling onto your feet, you approached the thin tiny opening where light filtered in, far too small to squeeze through but just big enough to peer through. It took a few spare seconds for your eyes to adjust to the light of the outside on this cloudy day, but you could make out high rock cliffs as gray as the sky. And a white horse with wings, a pegasus, several meters away with two people. A young man in purple who looked quite ruffled and a muscular woman with auburn locks. You blanched upon recognizing the location. 

The mighty hero was said to have fought his first life-threatening battle in a gorge, just like this one. It was a battle that nearly cost him his life. The human servant, obliged to serve the dark Lord of the Underworld, lured the hero to the gorge under the guise of an accident requiring urgent attention from a savior. When in actuality, the accident involved two children trapped under rubble where nearby the hydra lurked. And those two children? Were the two imps who also served the God of the Dead. One imp, you were one. And the other? Beside you now, which explained his matching metallic horns on his head. Meaning the hydra was near. Each breath you took increased in pace, on the very verge of hyperventilating–– 

“Help! Hurry! We can’t breathe!” The android boy cried for help, his little eyes peeking out of the same gap you were peering out of. Even his voice sounded different with whatever magic or technology he used to disguise himself. As the hero was running over and a crowd was forming a good distance away, your fellow imp looked at you and whispered in confusion, “Where’s your disguise? You can’t let her see––”

“Get me out…!! Please! Anyone! Someone!” You gasped, suddenly realizing just how small it was underneath this massive boulder. It was a miracle it hadn’t crashed down yet, killing you instantly like rock squishing an ant. But if the boulder didn’t kill you, then the hydra would. And that was what terrified you, causing you to scream for help. 

The young boy’s eyes brightened up, looking a bit taken aback at your volume before he grinned. At least, he must’ve been grinning, judging by the way his eyes lit up. Pausing his very loud pleas, he whispered in amazement, “Wow, you’re really good at this acting!” 

You were not acting. Especially not when help arrived in the form of the protagonist. 

Instead of a man as depicted in the stories, it was a woman. A woman with innocent blue eyes and a kind voice that attempted to ease the worries of what she must’ve thought were two poor victims trapped beneath debris from a rock slide. Her eyes darted from what she saw as a regular little boy, then over to you. “It’s okay, I promise you’ll be alright.” Those eyes like the bright blue sky, softened with a hint of pity, maybe because you just looked that pitiful and on the verge of tears. Because you knew what monster would come lurking from the gorge just moments after you and the small horned being beside you are supposed to be saved. 

Incredibly, with only a minimal amount of struggling, the hero heaved the boulder slowly above her head. Even though the rock was easily ten times her size, she raised it up high above her shoulders, allowing you and the boy to scamper out of the pit. Managing a charming smile despite the tons of weight she was holding, she began, “How are you holding up? Are you injured or––” 

Running. You were running. There was no way you would waste even a second here, and become a victim to that three-headed beast. It sounded like the hero had shouted something as you fled, and were followed by the android boy still in disguise as he called for you to wait up. Climbing, climbing, you took what looked like a thin path on a narrow cliff’s edge until you reached a hollow cavity hidden by shadows and boulders. By then you were out of breath, heaving, the ache in the back of your legs screaming from all that climbing and your lungs burning. 

However, it seemed as if your torment were far from over. As your gaze traveled up, you stilled like a deer in the headlights. There, engraved within the very surface of the rugged stone walls, was a mausoleum that appeared to be left abandoned. Its smooth columns held up ledges, and at the very mouth of the entrance was a throne of pure stone occupied by a stranger. A stranger that looked eerily similar to the android that had been your company. 

A figure who sat looking quite bored upon witnessing a mortal with inhuman strength. There were no words, but just by appearance alone you knew that this was the divine god that ruled the underworld. Fire, blue fire, ran from the top of his head down his spine and over thin shoulders. He was covered from neck to toe, completely in robes of dark blues and dull grays. Long sleeves with meander patterns extended to his wrist, and even his bony fingers were pitch black either due to the fabric of a glove or it was his actual skin, you couldn’t tell. The himation, the cloth that pooled on the floor at his feet, was pinned by a brooch resembling a skull. 

Chilling yellow eyes leered down at you, his blue lips pulled back slightly in a grimace to reveal unnaturally sharp teeth on his pale face. Under his judgemental gaze, you felt like a miserable little roach scuttering about underfoot. “This isn’t a theater, and you’re not Dionysus, tryhard. That was major overkill. You screamed so much I heard you loud and clear from all the way up here, pretty sure all those humans heard you.” 

In the blink of an eye, the android’s disguise was gone and he floated beside you. Placing a gentle but cold metallic hand on your back, he eagerly piped up, “I think they did really good, brother!” Brother? The god, the villain of this story, was his brother? Well certainly the resemblance was there between the god and the being in the role of the imp. “Did you see the look on the hero’s face, Idia? By my estimations, the act fooled all mortal onlookers!” 

Brother. But… that couldn’t be possible. Now that you were high up beside the god, Idia is what your partner in crime had called him, you were no longer so fearful of immediately becoming the hydra’s next meal. That wouldn’t happen, especially when according to the story, the lord of the underworld was the one who controlled the hydra. But now you were currently more concerned and fearful of the literal divine being sitting in front of you. The lord’s brothers were only supposed to be other gods from Mount Olympus, not a being that served him. What else was different about the story? More importantly, what would he do to you once he realized that you did not belong?

“Okay, fine. Stirring performance gets five stars from me. Definitely better than that uber cringe Oedipus play that came out a while back. Ortho, nice, you really played the cute little kid you gotta feel for, and you…” Idia directed his attention to you, and you froze in place under his gaze as he sized you up. “You actually weren’t that annoying this time. So congrats, I guess.” He added dismissively, apparently bored with this prelude as the crowd of humans down below continued to clap for the protagonist that had just saved two souls from the boulders in the gorge. Then, his gaze traveled over to the shadows, on a small cliff where a figure you hadn’t even noticed had been standing in silence. “And can’t forget you. A thumbs-up for the leading guy. Even a girl like her can’t resist you, huh, Meg? Talk about pretty privilege. It must be nice.” 

Startled slightly by the new presence, you glanced over, spotting a slightly familiar face looking over the cliff. It was that man who had been accompanying the protagonist. A fairly handsome looking man with brown wavy hair, in a purple chiton and baggy loose gray pants. Again, there was that modern style mixed with ancient, making you question what time this took place in. But that question was so insignificant compared to the rest of your worries, that it would be pushed to the very back of your mind.

Looking from Meg to Idia, you compare the two faces. The God of the Underworld certainly wasn’t ugly, per say. In fact, he was ethereal in his own unique way. It was more of an acquired taste to appreciate the slight cheekbones, the aquiline nose, and the dim glow his fire blue hair provided in the dark space. He wasn’t exactly the beauty standard that could be compared to a warm summer day, but cold rainy nights could be just as beautiful. 

“What are you staring at? Can you not? Seriously, don’t you know that’s rude?” The god muttered in a near sneer, his gaze unable to meet yours. In fact, he appeared to be looking anywhere but at you. Like he was nervous. But what would a god have to be nervous about? “When I leave home, I’d rather not be gawked at like some freak. I don’t need another reminder.”

Embarrassment caused your heat to creep up your neck and into your cheeks as you lowered your head swiftly in an apologetic nod. With your eyes now glued to the ground, you didn’t lift your head even an inch. It was a mercy that he didn’t appear to be a wrathful god. Cruel, perhaps, but apparently not quick to violence. If he was the hostile type, the last thing you would probably see was his calming blue fire turn an angry red before your body became nothing but ashes in the wind and your soul joining the countless in the river of the dead. In an effort to appease him so he wouldn’t believe you were staring for the wrong reasons, you began hesitantly, in a nervous tone, “I-I’m sorry–– I was staring because, well, you talk as if y-you didn’t have that specific privilege either.” 

Because you kept your head down, you failed to see all three of them, Ortho, Idia, and even Meg whipped his head around to stare with their own forms of shock as you snapped your mouth shut. There was no room to question what was said and done. 

“Not funny, didn’t laugh. I had no idea the role of jester was just taken up. Last I knew, we had that position available. Guess I was wrong.” He replied, unamused, and surprisingly not offended. At least he didn’t seem as if he was about to smite you for offending a god. It was jarring how lax he was, but he spoke with bitter sarcasm which actually hurt. “If I wanted a laugh, I’d probably watch you snivel and cry again, but honestly it’s way more pathetic than funny so there’s really no point in it unless I want to remind myself that there’s someone within a ten foot radius who’s giving me a run for my money in the pity department.” 

“I don’t think any of you are pathetic or pitiful.” Ortho chimed in, throwing in his two cents on the matter. To which the god only glanced at. “Shall I search our records for the soul of a successful jester? I believe we may have a few that once served kings in past centuries?” 

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the motion while propping up his elbow on the armrest of the stone throne. “Nah, don’t bother, none of them are that funny anyways. It’s not worth the effort of fishing them out of the river of souls. Once we secure our win, then maybe I’ll consider it when Thalia runs out of jokes to tell.” 

Thalia? Wasn’t that the name of one of the muses? Did he plan to use those divine beings as servants once he conquered Mount Olympus? 

“Uh, you can scram now? I know your soul is probably drawn to the company of other mortals like pretty-boy Meg over there and that schlemiel Heraclea.” Idia scoffed, looking a bit bitter. Although, maybe that was his natural expression along with the constant gloom that seemed to permanently linger around the divine being. He rolled his eyes, murmuring the word so it sounded like an insult, “Mortals.” 

“T-Then… I’ll talk to Meg.”

[yourlocalfriendlyhobbit]

Requested by @pacoholin​​

<< Part 1 | Part 3 (not posted yet) >>

A/N:

y’all making me shy with your compliments oml... *monkey covering eyes emoji* no but seriously i didn’t expect so much love on part 1, thank you all so much!

I’m also sorry it’s taking so long for me to write anything, i had a writer block, and I am chronicallly ill, so sometimes that keeps me from doing anything, and life is just sh*t all together...

This is also so freaking long... so I will make a part 3~ my brain is just not braining anymore atm...

The tourney happened weeks ago, and life was back to normal in Camelot. Things don't usually stays calm for long in this city with the magic ban, but somehow no sorcerer decided to take advantage of the tourney and agitation to commit any crimes... 

That didn’t mean Merlin had had any time to relax whatsoever; there’s never a calm moment with Arthur. Especially now that he has what he wanted to ‘blackmail’ Merlin all he wanted... During the whole week of the tourney, up until now, the moment you were present, Arthur would send teasing glances his way; elbow him lightly; or just straight up make a teasing comment that would make poor Merlin blush and leave you confused...

But truth be told, Arthur just wanted Merlin to snap and finally tell you how he feels, and he didn’t know how to help his friend other than pushing a little and hope for the better....

Of course, the knights learned about it too. And weren’t really any help, as they all had a different... approche when it came to romance...

Guinevere tried to help too. From giving him advices on what to do for you, what gifts he could give you, to just listening to him rant for hours about you... She wasn’t very close to you, but she knew, just by the look in Merlin’s eyes when he talked about you, that you were a caring person, and she just hoped you returned his feelings...

Merlin aknowledged their attempts at helping him, but he was too shy and nervous... He had magic... what if you were scared of him once he told you? what if you ratted him out then? He knew deep down that even if you were scared you wouldn’t do that, but there was still this little voice at the back of his head reminded him of it...

...

Merlin was doing his usual tasks, as Arthur was getting ready for bed. He noticed the young prince was very quiet this evening; which, considering we are talking about Arthur is really something abnormal. Merlin was considering breaking the silence but the prince did first:

“You are free tomorrow.”

Merlin turned to Arthur, quite shocked. He let out a nervous laugh.

“And who is the poor soul who would have to look after you then if I am not here?”

Arthur scoffed, and grabbed a pillow from his bed and threw it at Merlin, who easily dodged it.

“Now, that is none of your concern. Tomorrow, you will go to the kitchen and meet with Guinevere, she will hand you a basket, and you will go have a nice little picnic with (Y/n). And for the love of God, tell them how you feel!”

The poor boy looked at the Prince as if he had grown a second head. He fidgeted with the cloth he was holding.

“I... I have no idea what you mean by th-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Arthur grabbed another pillow from his bed and threw it with way more force than before. This time, it hit Merlin in the face.

“I want to help you, but I am getting quite frustrated with you. There is no denying how you feel about them because that is very obvious; from the lovesick look in your eyes to that dumb smile you have when they so much talk to you, you are just trying to find excuses.”

Arthur walked up to Merlin, and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Now, man up, and put everyone out of their misery... well, mostly you...”

With a finale pat on the shoulder, he turned around and went to lay down on his bed, while Merlin stayed where he was. He looked to the ground, not really looking at anything in particular, mulling over all that just happened. He then sighed and got back to work, before leaving to go to bed himself.

When he arrived in Gaius’ appartment, he didn’t say a word and went straight to his room.

...

The morning arrived faster than he wanted. Of course, spending the day with you was all i wanted for a long time now, but if he was to confess to you, he knew he needed to be sincere about who he really was. And that scared him so much. He could stand you not returning his feelings, but imagining you being scared of him was the worst that could happen.

He was pacing around the room, thinking of hundreds of ways to tell you everything he wanted, all the things that could go wrong, etc... Gaius was watching him from his chair, the parchement he was reading long forgotten. Obviously he knew what was making the boy so jumpy. Suddenly, Merlin took off without saying a word, barely closing the door behind him.

He ran throught the corridors, straight to the kitchens where Guinevere had probably been waiting for him for the past hour. He stumbled when he reached the door, out of breathe. Guinevere was sitting on a chair, sewing a piece of clothing. She looked up when she heard him.

“I’m so sorry I made you wait!”

She simply smiled and got up.

“It’s alright; I figured you would take some time to come.”

She went to the counter at the back of the kitchens and picked up a basket. She then walked to Merlin and gave it to him.

“(Y/n) is most likely near the training yard; there is no one there at this hour. Now hurry up.”

She smiled and pushed him lightly. Merlin laughed, a light blush dusting his cheeks. He took a few steps backwards, then started to walk at a fast pace towards the yard, a huge smile on his face. When he finally arrived at the training yard, he looked around to find you. As he walked across the field, he spotted you sitting in the shadows of one of the walls. He stopped where he was, in the middle of the yard, and stared at you. Completely entranced; as he usually was when he saw you: every background sounds vanished. You were just so perfect.

A loud crash coming from somewhere behind him managed to get him out of his trance. But it also caugh your attention. And as usual, when you looked at him, he suddenly became all awkward and shy. But unaware of the effect you had on Merlin, you waved at him with a bright smile.

With a tight lip awkward smile, he walked to you, clutching the handle of the basket like his life depended on it.  When Merlin finally reached you, you had stood up.

“Hi Merlin, how are you today?”

You could see how nervous he was, shifting from one foot to the other, looking at the ground.

“Oh um, I’m- I’m doing good- I- umm...”

Merlin paused.

“You- You are free this afternoon?”

You looked at him, a bit surprised. Knowing he is Arthur’s servant, he didn’t really have any kind of free time.

“Well, yes. Why you ask?”

Merlin took a deep breathe, as if summoning all the courage he had in his body, and motionned to the basket he was holding tightly.

“I wanted to ask you if you would like to go picnic with me outside of Camelot’s walls?”

He was looking at you with the biggest puppy eyes you had ever seen, like he was begging you to say yes. If only he knew he didn’t need to do that for you to accept...

“Of course, I’d love that Merlin!”

You replied with a smile. Before he could say anything, you grabbed his free hand, and dragged him away from the castle. He nearly fell, but soon catched up with you.

Now, Merlin could only hope that you would return his feelings, but most importantly, that you would accept him, magic and all...

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

It's Delicate: Part II

Summary: Spencer Reid finds himself at a gas station at 2:00 am, thinking he’s only leaving with a cup of crappy coffee. But something taped to the door catches his eye. Spencer leaves the gas station with more than he intended: the chance at a friend, and maybe something more along the way.

Word Count: 3.6 k

Author’s Note: Here's the second part in It's Delicate, my first chapter fic. I've planned out kind of where I see this eventually going! Thank you to anyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs. It really means the world to me.

Content Warnings: Expletive language (3 uses), mentions of drug use, sexual innuendo

READ PART I

It's Delicate Masterlist

It's Delicate

Sitting on the plane, Spencer looks out from the little window. For hours, there’s been nothing but corn fields and clouds. It’s eerily peaceful, being there high above the clouds. His whole life Spencer has felt this distance between him and everyone else, but nothing makes that feeling more prominent than being strapped in a glorified metal box 35,000 feet off the Earth’s surface. But the thing is, Spencer does need to be flying above the trees to feel lonely. He can do that with two feet on the ground.

Luke sits across Spencer, the table between them and a deck of playing cards are spread out across its surface. He has to nudge Spencer’s leg from under the table, trying to bring him back to reality as he stares out the window.

“Whatcha thinking,” Luke asks, Spencer has been noticing more and more that Luke is one of the few people that actually listens to him.

Spencer, whose mind is racing too fast to even formulate an articulate thought, attempts to dodge Luke’s question with a noncommittal shrug.

“Reid, these cases are hard for all of us, you gotta know that man,” Luke says, laying down a four of a kind.

Spencer narrows his eyes, shocked that it hasn’t clicked yet for the rest of the team. He cracks his neck, preparing to answer Luke.

“We almost locked up an innocent man, Alvez. I almost sent another man to the same fate as myself. What kind of fucked up message is that?” Spencer says, throwing down the cards on the table. He doesn’t wait for Luke to respond.

“I fold,”

Spencer walks off into the small kitchenette to make a cup of coffee. He doesn’t want to think about his increased reliance on coffee, because he knows it’s a hot cup of coffee or a cold needle of Dilaudid in his veins. Spencer checks his watch, it’s 10:17 pm, maybe too late to find a meeting at a church or rec center somewhere.

He sneaks a peak at his phone, which was still unfortunately on Airplane Mode, he hasn’t even gotten a chance to see if Y/N has responded. He doesn’t know much about her, just as much as she knows about him.

It’s a brave new world for Spencer and he’s knee deep into the unknown.

Spencer can feel Luke’s eyes on him. He just knows that the minute he gets home, a certain tech expert will be ringing him. He knows that it’s Luke’s way of caring, but for someone who’s been alone for so long, having people that actually care is almost drowning.

Walking back to his seat, Spencer hands Luke a coffee. He smiles slightly; it’s the awkward smile that he used to make when intimating police chiefs and idiot cops would look him up and down like he’s a TA. It’s a peace offering for Luke, who despite his tough looking exterior, is one of the kindest people Spencer knows.

“Look, Reid. I’m sorry that we didn’t put it together. It’s just that man that we caught, he’s not like you. He’s not innocent of crimes, he’s just innocent of this crime,” Luke says in an attempt to make Spencer feel a little bit better.

“The thing is Luke, I’m exactly like that man,”

Spencer returns to staring out the window. The cards and the coffee on the table are long ignored for the silence that is found when you’re high above the clouds.

--

Spencer hears Tara and Emily murmur quietly about going out for a round of drinks. Luke accepts, while JJ and Matt decline, eager to get home to their families. Emily looks over at Spencer, her eyes silently scanning him, his body language. Spencer knows that there’s nothing he can hide from Emily, so there’s no use in trying to pretend he’s alright when she can take one look at him and know that nothing is right.

“You guys have fun, I’m going to head home and get some sleep. I plan on visiting my mom tomorrow and mornings are usually better for her,” Spencer says, slinging his go bag around his shoulders and making the trek back to the security to check out.

He walks slowly, enjoying the sound of the crickets chirping as he trudges along. Spencer tries not to think about the man, Richard, who was almost locked up for a crime that he didn’t commit. Spencer is pretty sure that being the person to throw an innocent man in jail is worse than being the innocent man in jail.

Spencer’s phone buzzes loudly, disturbing the silence of his walk. He looks at the phone to see a couple of messages from Y/N. Spencer slides open the lock to his phone and hits the button to read her messages.

Y/N: Spencer...that has a nice ring to it. So tell me a little bit about yourself. Your big three, but as books. Go! 🌞🌙⬆️

Furrowing his brow, Spencer reads the message over again. He does not have a clue what “big three” means, but it seems like some sort of pop culture thing that he’s not skilled in. He wants to text Garcia for a translation, but he’s also not too keen on telling her how he came across Y/N’s number.

Y/N: I assume you’re working, but I'm kind of impatient so I’ll give you mine 🙃 I’m a Little Women sun, an Emma moon, and an In Cold Blood rising.

Y/N: Oh no….I hope my astrology didn’t turn you off

Y/N: Not that I was trying to turn you on

Y/N: omg Y/N please shut the fuck up

Astrology? Spencer isn’t one to judge, but he’s a scientist first and foremost. The idea that there is something written about him in the stars seems like ludicrous. He decided to ignore the other messages, particularly the ones with a little more than slight innuendo.

Spencer: Y/N- I’m sorry I just got out of work. As for my big three, I’m not sure about astrology. I don’t particularly believe in pseudoscience. But those are good choices. In Cold Blood is an excellent choice. Capote spent years researching the case. In fact his prose and technique inspired the entire “Nonfiction novel” genre. The world of journalism and true crime would not be where it is without Capote’s work.

Y/N: Oh my god. You are a total nerd. 🙀

That stops Spencer right in his tracks. He’s only a couple of yards away from the Volvo at this point, but somehow it feels a million miles away. You are a total nerd. The words replay in his mind as the small gray bubbles pop up again. Spencer can feel his heart constrict at Y/N’s words. It’s ridiculous, he’s nearly 34 and is getting upset that a stranger called him a nerd. Spencer unlocks his car and tosses his go bag, phone included onto the passenger seat.

After a couple of minutes his phone buzzes again. He’s half tempted to answer it, but the way his heart seems to beat faster tells him to ignore it.

Y/N: I fucking love it and I think you’ll love this too

Spencer’s entire demeanor changes as he reads the message. He’s always had difficulties reading emotion in writing, especially when he can’t analyze the handwriting. Sometimes, it’s even harder to judge inflection during conversations. Maybe that is why Spencer has spent all this time studying people, studying the way that their minds work. Before he can get too lost in his thoughts, another message pops up.

Y/N: Meet Capote and Second Cat

Y/N: They are the loves of my life

Spencer: They are very...distinguished looking. Capote is an excellent name choice then. Second Cat is also quite catchy.

Spencer hesitates before sending the message, he notices that Y/N uses what Garcia calls “emojis” quite frequently. He assumes that it’s some sort of “texting lingo” that expresses emotion in small graphics. Great, he thinks. He already has a difficult time deciphering Y/N’s cryptic wording and now he’s got to analyze these emojis.

Maybe he should profile her. He re-reads the message and settles on a “😄” because he figures that he can’t go wrong with offering Y/N a smile.

Spencer: I don’t have a cat, but when I was a kid I always wanted one, they’re quite good companions for those that live several different kinds of lifestyles. From active to sedentary, they are adaptable and independent. Honestly they are the perfect pet.

Y/N: Is this your way of telling you’re a crazy cat man? 😜 🙀

Spencer, still sitting in his car that’s parked in the parking lot, chuckles at Y/N’s response to his message. Maybe it’s just easier to ignore his rambling when it’s done through 1s and 0s and there isn’t a face to the words.

Spencer: I’m actually more of a fish guy

Y/N: Like a “I-like-to-go-fishing-and-post-picture-of-myself-kissing-my-catch-on-Tinder” kind of fish guy or...I can’t think of any other kind of fish men

Spencer, not totally understanding the obvious joke that Y/N is trying to make, settles on something that he hasn’t really ever tried: being himself.

Spencer: Not quite sure what a Tinder is, but I think fishing is terrifying and kissing a fish is something out of nightmares. But his name is Leo

Y/N: DiCaprio?

Spencer: Uhh, Tolstoy

Y/N: Good😉 ⚔️🕊️ 🇷🇺

Spencer glances at his clock on the control panel, it tells him that he’s been messaging with Y/N back and forth for nearly 22 minutes. He nearly forgot how tired he was.

Spencer: Y/N- I’m so sorry but, I just got to my car to drive home from work. I’ll text you tomorrow morning about the book club, maybe we can figure out some things.

Y/N: OMG Spencer!! you should have told me. I’ve been talking ur ear off. sleep well and yes please tomorrow we can talk about the book club

Y/N: Good night, Book Buddy 😴

Spencer wants to respond to Y/N, but he doesn’t know what to say. She seems to text so easily, and judging by that, she must be around Spencer’s age or a little bit younger. Besides JJ and Penelope, Spencer has never had a friend close to his age. It’s a strange new territory for him and he’s walking in head first into No Man’s Land.

He starts his Volvo, the check engine still lights but, reminding him once again to go get it fixed. Driving away from the parking lot, Spencer hands over his ID to Gina, the security guard. She checks his ID and gives him a tired smile. Spencer, as he drives home to his apartment, thinking about what books he and Y/N will read together. He wonders what kind of books are her favorite, if they have any authors that they can obsess over together, or if what she thinks a poet’s prose is.

The summer air rushing in through the window is nowhere as warm and as comforting as thought of Spencer finally having a friend that isn’t able to read the scars of his past in the text bubbles that pop up on her screen.

--

When Spencer opens his eyes for the first time that morning, he isn’t sure where he is. Sometimes, before he can stop his thoughts from travelling there, Spencer thinks he’s still in jail. He hates the feeling of terror that rushes over him but he hates the idea of being vulnerable a little bit more. But the softness of his pillows and the coolness of his cotton sheets remind him that he’s not sleeping on a hard cot with only a layer of fabric over his body. The light streams in through the half closed blinds, and Spencer judges by how brightly the sun shines in, it must be around 9:45 am.

He supposes that he prefers the way the sun’s rays paint horizontal bars across his face more than the vertical bars that cast gray shadows over his cell at Milburn Penitentiary.

It’s a day off from work, so Spencer didn’t set an alarm, instead allowing his mind and his body to catch up on some much needed rest. The nightmares have been getting better, but his dreams are still haunted by the way that he hardly recognizes himself anymore. Deciding that it will be a day spent in pajamas, Spencer goes to his bookshelf in his bedroom to pick out a couple of novels to read while he drinks his morning coffee and defrosts some of Luke’s strawberry pastries.

Before heading out of his room, Spencer stops himself in the doorway. He replays the events of last night. He declined to go out with the rest of the team, while he walked to his car he thought about the crickets telling the temperature, and he read over Y/N’s messages.

Y/N.

He promised he’d text her back in the morning about their book club. Last night, she didn’t seem to mind Spencer’s long messages and awkward phrasing. He still doesn’t really know how this Book Buddy thing would work, but since he found Y/N’s number on the flyer, he can only assume that she knows what to do. He leaps on his bed, landing with thud on his belly, to grab his phone that charges on his nightstand.

Spencer settles at his kitchen table, a cup of steaming hot Dark Roast coffee in a Captain Spock mug in one hand and, surprisingly, his phone in the other. He scrolls through the messages from last night, Y/N’s cat and emojis tempt a smile to Spencer’s face.

Not entirely sure how to start the conversation again, Spencer looks around for inspiration until his eyes land on a certain fish tank in the corner of his apartment. He snaps a quick picture of Leo and attaches it to the message.

Spencer: Good Morning from Leo & Spencer

Spencer sets down his phone after a moment when he realizes that Y/N is probably not going to answer him back in a couple of seconds. He takes out a strawberry pastry from his freezer and puts it into the toaster oven on a non-stick baking sheet. His thumbs run across the texture of the book he started on the plane ride after his and Luke’s ill fated poker game. It's a thin book of collected essays on the meaning of life. Camus, to Spencer, is a little pessimistic with his droning on about the meaninglessness of life. Though Spence has seen the absolute worst that humanity has to offer, he still has to believe that there’s a deeper meaning behind it all.

His toaster oven rings, altering him so that his toasted strawberry pastry is cooked. He plates his breakfast and pours himself another cup of coffee- he’ll need it to get through Camus’s section on Absurdism this early in the morning. But the flash of Spencer’s phone screen sends him reaching for his phone. Y/N replied to his message.

Y/N: hi leo!!!

Y/N: and you too Spencer :) Did you get a good night’s sleep. You got back late it seems.

Spencer, taking a bite of the strawberry pastry, ignores the burning sensation in his mouth. He types out a response to Y/N as he washes down the bite with a swing of coffee.

Spencer: I did, thank you. Can you tell me a little bit more about this book buddy thing. From what I gathered from the flyer it’s like a little book club of our own and we meet at the bookstore?

It doesn’t take long for Y/N to respond. The little gray dots pop up almost immediately after Spencer’s message is delivered.

Y/N: That’s about right! Is it okay if I call you? Kinda easier to talk that way 🤷‍♀️

Spencer reads over the message a couple of times. He doesn’t really like to talk on the phone and only does it out of necessity. He’s pretty sure that his voice is grating and his vocal fry is quite irritating. Yet, he finds himself replying “yes” to Y/N. Soon enough, his phone buzzes in his hand and Spencer has to remind himself how to pick up a call.

“Spencer? Um, this is Spencer Reid, right?” the voice says. It’s a woman’s voice and he can only assume that it’s Y/N, considering it is her phone number calling him.

“Y/N, uh hi. This is Dr. Spencer- I mean this is Spencer,” he says, nearly forgetting that Y/N doesn’t know him as Dr. Reid, but as just Spencer. It’s been a long time since someone has known him as Spencer.

“Oh great! It’s wonderful to finally have a voice to your name. So about these buddy reads. You seem to have a good grasp of what they are,” Y/N’s voice trails off a little bit at the end and Spencer finds it natural to fill in the silence.

“Yes, the flyer was quite informative. But I was wondering, do we read the same books or do we read different books?” Spencer asks, trying to restrain himself from scaring Y/N off. But something about her made him think that she didn’t scare easily.

Y/N chuckles lightly in the speaker of her phone, “that’s a good question, uh, I was actually going to ask you what you would rather. We can read the same books, or if it’s okay with you we can choose what the other would read for that week,”

“Oh really?” Spencer says, very much aware how his voice rises a couple of octaves. He can’t trust himself to hold back on rambling over the phone Y/N, so he resorts to using his strained, brittle voice that’s full of hesitation and restraint.

“That’s the plan, so whatcha thinking, Spencer,” Y/N says playfully, like she can sense that phone conversations maybe not make him feel at ease. There’s something so natural and silvery about her voice; it reminds Spencer of an audiobook reader. While he’s not too keen on audiobooks, he’s sure that he’d listen to anything she reads or has to say.

“Um, I think it sounds interesting to pick out books for each other. I tend to gravitate towards more technical books or even books that aren’t in English so, uh, I think it would be interesting to get out of my comfort zone,” Spencer says, cringing internally at using the word “interesting” twice in a couple of sentences.

“Well, as long as you don’t pick out something in physics or anything by Ayn Rand then I’d say we’re good,” Y/N says. Spencer thinks it’s a joke, but he’s not too sure how to respond.

“Will you still be my Book Buddy if I read 1 out of 2 of those?” Spencer asks, hoping she’d get that he is trying to continue the joke.

“Oh no Spencer please don’t tell me you’re an Ayn Rand fanboy,” she says, and by the airy way she laughs, Spencer ventures to guess his joke landed successfully.

“So,” Spencer starts, he never has made plans with people outside of his team, and on top of that, there’s something about Y/N’s quickness that makes him a little nervous to meet her.

“I’m talking your ear off, aren’t I? Please Spencer, if you’re going to be my Book Buddy, you’re going to have to get used to me talking a lot, especially you pick out good books, which, I already have a feeling you’re going to be favorite Book Buddy,”

For once in his life, Spencer doesn’t really know how to respond. He lets out something in between a strangled laughter and a noncommittal chuckle.

“So,” Y/N says, mirroring Spencer’s earlier words, “so are you free tonight, I can meet you at the bookstore..”

Y/N’s voice trails off and Spencer leaps to finish her sentences. It doesn’t feel like his interjecting or interrupting, but like he’s snapping a puzzle piece together.

“Does 7 work?” “7 is great, Spencer. It’s a date,”

Those three little words send Spencer’s eyes flying wide open. He scrambles to come up with answer to louden the silence that falls, but he swears he can hear a string of quiet curses before Y/N manages to squeak out a small “goodbye,”

Y/N’s last words play back in Spencer’s ears. He scolds himself for being so weird and awkward that the very idea of going on a date with him would send Y/N in a tizzy. It’s not a date, because Spencer can’t think about it being a date. It’s not a date because of the looming photo above his mantle that freezes his future in the past. It’s not a date because of the nightmare of vertical bars that haunt his dreams

It’s not a date. It’s so not a date because Spencer would call Luke to come over to help him if it was.

“Hey Luke,” Spencer says, trying to control the nervous waves in his voice, “no man, I’m fine, it’s uh, easier if you just come over. I’m fine, really,”

Y/N: I really hope you're not an Ayn Rand fanboy 😉

It’s so not a date.

--THANK YOU FOR READING--

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[worldwidemochiguy]

Sweets (Soft Yandere! Jungkook)

You keep being visited by the most peculiar thief…

➵ in which jungkook steals your lip balm and perfume instead of talking to you, you leave a post-it note with your number on it for the strange thief who only seems to take the most inexplicable items and has a strange sense of responsibility for your wellbeing, and the cute boy in your photography class with the fluffy hair and the oversized sweater keeps getting more and more endearing…

➵ Warnings: Soft Yandere Jungkook, Breaking & Entering but without the Breaking, Reader is a bit of a ditz (lol sorry guys) 

➵ Word Count: 4.2K

➵ Masterlist

“Hello, uh, I’d like to… report a crime?” 

Your statement, which had always sounded suitably firm and assertive when you practised it in front of the bathroom mirror, ended with an unplanned upturn, making it sound more like a question than you would like. 

“Please state your name and address, ma’am.”

You did so, listening anxiously to the tap of a keyboard as your information was filed away. The undoubtedly over-worked police officer on the other end of the line sounded like he was two seconds from falling asleep, and you questioned yourself for the millionth time over whether you really needed to report this or not.

“What is the nature of the crime you are reporting, ma’am?”

“Um… well…” 

You twisted your hand into the fabric of your shirt self-consciously, trying to decide the best way to explain the strange little occurrences that had been surrounding your apartment over the last few months. You had not yet found a way to put it without sounding ridiculous, but you supposed there was a first time for everything. 

“I, uh, I think someone’s breaking into my apartment and stealing things.”

“You have an intruder?”

“Uh huh,”

“…Are they currently in your residence?”

“No, I think… they come and take things when I’m not here and then they’re gone by the time I get back.” 

“What items have been stolen?”

You bit your lip. 

“I know it sounds silly, but…”

“No crime is too small to report, ma’am. We are committed to making the lives of everyday citizens safer.”

“Well… they’ve stolen my lip balm like… several times. I keep buying new ones and they keep being stolen after a week or so. And my perfume. And my hairbrush one time, and-”

“Ma’am,” The officer cut you off with the impatience you had been both anticipating and dreading ever since you decided to call the police, “Listen, we don’t have the capacity to deal with prank callers-”

“It’s not a prank call!” You blurted, a momentary burst of desperation overtaking you, “I- um, sorry for interrupting, officer, but this isn’t a prank call. Things have been going missing. I can’t afford to keep replacing my lip balm.” 

A sigh crackled across the line, and you pictured the officer maybe taking off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose like those people in movies always seemed to do when they got frustrated. Personally, you had never found that it helped. 

“Are you sure you aren’t just… misplacing them?”

You gasped, offended that even a stranger could think you so stupid. “No! I remember exactly where I leave things and then they just vanish! I swear!”

“Has anything of value ever been taken from your apartment?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, excited to be able to prove the officer wrong, “My bunny plushy! Mr Snuggles is extremely valuable to me!”

“…Monetary value, I meant. Has anything expensive ever been taken from your apartment?” 

There was an embarrassing silence. The officer sighed again, with a little more exasperation colouring his tone. 

“If anything significant is stolen, call us back. For now, just… be a bit more careful with your possessions.” 

He hung up. You pressed your forehead against the wall and wished your strange thief had taken your phone in one of his little visits. Maybe then you would’ve avoided making that agonising call. 

The next morning as you were leaving to go to class, you noticed a pile of discarded post-it notes on your desk — the remnants of a redbull-fuelled late night study session. Your newly purchased lip balm lay next to it. Impulsively, you grabbed a pen and scrawled a message on one of the post-its, sticking it horizontally to the curved surface of the lip balm tube. 

it reads: 

pls don’t take this i just bought it and this brand is actually v expensive and i am only a struggling college student with loans and chapped lips (。•́︿•̀。)

It might have been a little too polite considering it’s intended recipient was someone who had stolen multiple items from your apartment, but you figured there was no point in being rude. They probably wouldn’t even read it anyway. 

You strolled out of your apartment, planning to pick up a smoothie on the way to your lecture, and promptly forgot all about it.

 When you returned home to find a pile of newly bought lip balms on your desk — all embossed with the logo of your favourite brand — you were slightly puzzled. But, once you remembered the note you had left- well, the confusion didn’t exactly vanish, but at least you were given some context. 

The note had disappeared, along with the lip balm you had used a scant few times. But, you didn’t understand what the thief’s aim was. Why on earth would they steal small things like lip balm and perfume? And why would they buy you new copies of the product? Wasn’t that counterproductive?

you’re very bad at your job

Your next note read, stuck to your fridge as you left to grab coffee with your study group. It remained there for a few days, and you couldn’t ignore the way your heart sank a little each time you saw it hadn’t been taken. 

After six days, when it finally vanished, you felt an odd sense of happiness bubble up within you. Yes, there was someone routinely breaking into your apartment, but at least now you had an open channel of communication with them. They had left a brand new bottle of your preferred perfume — which had been stolen at least twice before you stopped bothering to buy it because perfume is pricy — resting on your kitchen counter, beside a box of your favourite chocolates. 

As you dug into the box later, snuggled in a blanket and having a Studio Ghibli film marathon, you didn’t even consider the fact that the sweets might be tampered with. If they wanted to kill me, they would’ve killed me already, you reasoned to yourself, sucking the icing sugar off your fingers. Nor did you question how they knew your favourite chocolate. If they broke into your apartment as much as you assumed they did, they probably knew you better than your own parents by now. 

You were the very definition of a broke college student. As far as you were concerned, if this random stranger wanted to buy you things and sometimes clean up your apartment — you had definitely come back to a home tidier than you had left it more than once — then you certainly weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it was a little naïve of you, but… you had already called the police, and they hadn’t cared.

thank you for the perfume and chocolate <3

You wrote next morning, hesitating slightly before putting the heart. Before you could convince yourself not to, you scribbled another line underneath. 

i wish you’d write back someday…

As you walked to class, you scolded yourself for the butterflies swooping in your stomach. They’re literally a criminal, you told yourself, Stop getting crushes on anyone who shows you the slightest bit of attention. You don’t even know their name. 

Despite the small amount of common sense that you did have mocking you all day, you sat in classes and daydreamed about your mystery home intruder. Would they read the note? Would they be happy about your appreciation? Would they — you bit your lip — would they write back? 

You felt like a dumb schoolgirl, excited by the prospect of a badly written love note shoved in her locker. And, like a school girl, you trudged back home with your arms weighed down by class work, a billion essays and quizzes that had to be completed overnight. Did your professors not realise you had a life outside of college? Not that you did, of course, but like… in principle. 

You were so preoccupied with the coursework that you didn’t even notice the note stuck to your bedroom door. After an hour of studying, you rose wearily to start fixing yourself something to eat, and your eyes snagged on a flash of yellow. 

You squeaked, almost falling over yourself in your rush to get to the door and read the note. 

i’m glad you liked them. i’m sorry i took your things, that was mean of me. i tried to only take things you wouldn’t miss, but i guess that backfired… i just wanted to feel close to you. and these notes… are the closest i’ve ever been. i know that must sound weird, but… well. i’m a weird guy, i guess. i just liked hearing from you. that’s all. 

~ koo <3

You didn’t stop freaking out for a full five minutes. After that, you poured over every detail of the letter, eager to extricate any fragment of knowledge possible. You ended up with a list which you scribbled down in your diary, above which you pasted the note. 

The list went as follows:

They want to feel close to you

They have not talked to you before, since the notes are the closest they’ve ever been, but they must have seen you in person at least once 

They are a he 

(you adamantly did not get flustered about that)

and

     4. He calls himself Koo

When you left your apartment the next morning, you placed your note on the exact same spot he had left his. An indirect touch. 

hi koo !!!!!!!!

i was so excited to see you had written something!! you know, if you want to talk to me more often, there is an easier way…

Underneath you had scrawled your phone number, hastily and not allowing for regret before you flounced out of the apartment. The reason why you were in such a rush was because you were about to go to your favourite class: Photography 101. 

You had taken it as an extra credit, something that interested you but not enough that you wanted to pursue it as a career. You had expected it to be fun, something artistic to break up the monotony of classes. What you had not expected was the dreamy boy who sat in the first row and had full possession of your heart. 

You didn’t even know his name, but you were pretty sure you were half in love with him. With fluffy brown hair that fell over his forehead whenever he leaned over to scribble down notes, and cute bunny teeth that stuck out in a flustered smile whenever the professor praised his work in class, he was perhaps the cutest boy you had ever seen. 

Though you were sure he had many girls sighing after him, he seemed to be really shy, only ever speaking in class when called on, and even then it was in a quiet, soft voice. He was kind of like you in that respect. But that was where your similarities ended. 

Yes, you thought, sighing as you watched him pay avid attention to the professor’s lecture on the composition of frames, his cute doe eyes wide and twinkling like stars were embedded in the pupils, He is way out of my league. 

It took three days for you to lose hope. You hadn’t received a text, nor had you found any notes left for you. You tried not to be disappointed, even as your traitorous sub-conscience mocked you for being able to scare away the one person who arguably paid you the most attention. 

You didn’t really have many friends, and the ones you did have preferred each other over you, and often left you out of activities because of your shy nature. You guessed this whole thing had just been a way to feel like you actually mattered to someone, like, for once, someone cared about you, but-

You were pulled out of your musings as your phone chimed. 

From: Unknown Number

[6:48 PM]

hi

this is koo

The two of you texted every day, and soon enough you were hiding your phone underneath your desk in order to chat to him, keeping your phone on your person at all times in case koo wanted to talk. Of course, the only class you didn’t do this in was Photography, so you could spend a blissful forty-five minutes staring at the boy who played the role of your husband in all of your favourite daydreams. 

Koo still broke into your house occasionally, and he still left you sweet, considerate gifts. Often, you would receive texts like this:

From: koo ✨

[3:24 PM]

sweets i’ve been checking your groceries and your vegetables are not being eaten as often as they should be 

i know you have a sweet tooth and that’s cute but please try to stay healthy

To: koo ✨

[3:25 PM]

but i can’t cook all i know how to make is microwaveable mac n cheese :///////

You came back home that day to discover a bunch of Tupperwares full of pre-made healthy meals and a note stuck to the top of them. 

try microwaving these :)

To: koo ✨

[3:01 AM]

koo are you awake?

From: koo ✨

[3:01 AM]

i am now

what’s wrong?

To: koo ✨

[3:02 AM]

i can’t sleep :////////

From: koo ✨

[3:02 AM]

sweets you need to go to bed

you have an early morning class

To: koo ✨

[3:02 AM]

i knowwwwww

i just… i can’t sleep without mr snuggles :((

From: koo ✨

[3:03 AM]

Mr Snuggles??

???

To: koo ✨

[3:03 AM]

my cuddly bunny :((((

i think you took him a while ago

could i maybe have him back…?

From: koo ✨

[3:03 AM]

Shit

i didn’t know you couldn’t sleep without him 

[3:04 AM]

sweets im so sorry

To: koo ✨

[3:04 AM]

its okay koo

From: koo ✨

[3:04 AM]

no it isn’t

you’re loosing sleep because of me

fuck

i could… bring him to you?

To: koo ✨

[3:05 AM]

you’d do that?

…i could see you?

From: koo ✨

[3:05 AM]

no i’d leave him outside

you’d have to promise not to come out until i text you saying i’ve left

To: koo ✨

[3:06 AM]

but kooooo :(((((

From: koo ✨

[3:07 AM]

sweets 

To: koo ✨

[3:07 AM]

okay :((((((((((

but i expect you to leave a big box of chocolates on my pillow for me to come home to tomorrow evening!!

From: koo ✨

[3:08 AM]

of course sweets <3

im gonna get going now

don’t look outside your apartment

To: koo ✨

[3:08 AM]

okay

From: koo ✨

[3:34 AM]

im gone and mr snuggles is waiting outside for you

he might have a little gift with him

You trudged outside your apartment, rubbing your eyes blearily, and looked down to see your beloved plushie clutching a single rose in its paws. You gasped, leaning down to pick up the flower gently, and you noticed all the thorns had been taken off. Koo must’ve removed them so that you didn’t accidentally hurt yourself. 

You felt warmth flood you, drowning the butterflies in your stomach and replacing them with something much less fleeting, much less shallow. 

It sunk into your bones, into your heart, into your breath as you sighed, squeezing your long-lost Mr Snuggles close to your face. He carried the familiar scent of nostalgia, but also something different, something sharper. You realised with a jolt that you were smelling Koo’s cologne. 

You went back to bed, nuzzled your face into the plushy’s furry belly, and dreamed of fluffy brown hair and bunny smiles. 

Though with Mr Snuggles’ help you were able to sleep wonderfully, you were only able to do so for four hours before your alarm jolted you back into early reality. Honestly, you were sorely tempted to just ditch class, but it was Photography, and if you missed your regular dose of the cute boy in the front row then you thought you might just crumble into dust. 

You dragged yourself out of bed, pulling on your softest oversized hoodie — a gift from Koo which, now that you thought about it, smelled like the same cologne that Mr Snuggles did. You flushed at the thought of him giving you one of his hoodies to wear, though you couldn’t say exactly why that image charmed you. 

You stumbled into the lecture, arms full of textbooks because you knew you wouldn’t have the energy to return back to your apartment to retrieve the relevant materials for your next class later in the day. Your excellent plan was to crash in the library directly after this, have a two hour power-nap, and then make yourself get up in time for Calculus. 

You barely had the energy to listen to the professor droning on and on about… the perfect lense, or whatever. You allowed yourself the indulgence of tuning out, resting your chin on your palm and gazing dreamily at the boy in the front row. He was taking notes, as per usual. What a good student! You praised him in your head. I bet he has the best handwriting. 

Despite your best efforts, you fell asleep within ten minutes. You were woken as the class concluded by the clamour of students grabbing their materials and the scrape of chairs as your classmates stood up, leaving you behind — the only one half-splayed across the desk in front of you. 

You jerked upright, grabbing your stuff in one hand as you tried to tug on your bag, eventually succeeding with much struggle, only to drop it all again as soon as you stood up. You whimpered, watching helplessly as your textbooks fanned across the floor. You saw one of them split along the spine as it landed on an open page. 

That cost me two hundred dollars, you thought absently, and I just chucked it down like a bouncy ball.  

Suddenly, you glimpsed someone crouching down and gathering them all up into a sturdy pile. As he stood up, your vision was full of fluffy brown hair, errant strands falling into star-filled doe eyes. 

Oh. Oh no. 

“H-Here you are,” He murmured, passing you the pile gently, making sure you were able to take the weight before leaving them in your arms. When he leaned close to you, you breathed in a scent that was oddly familiar, and yet new at the same time. As his hands receded, his skin brushed against yours for a second and you swear your vision blanked out. 

“Thanks,” You whispered, your gaze so firmly focused on the floor that you didn’t notice his flushed cheeks. 

As soon as you got to the library, you whipped out your phone, all tiredness banished from your system by that momentous experience. You had talked to him. 

To: koo ✨

[8:47 AM]

koo i think im in love

From: koo ✨

[8:47 AM]

what

with who

To: koo ✨

[8:47 AM]

this boy in my photography class 

he’s just so- 

[8:48 AM]

i can’t even explain it

i dropped my textbooks and he picked them up for me and i stg i almost cried

From: koo ✨

[8:48 AM]

wait

seriously??

To: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

yeah i cry at like the drop of a hat 

From: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

no-

cute 

but i mean

that’s who you’re in love with?

To: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

yeah?

From: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

gray sweater

[8:50 AM]

big eyes

tall-ish

that’s him???

To: koo ✨

[8:50 AM]

OMG YOU’RE IN MY PHOTOGRAPHY CLASS AREN’T YOU

From: koo ✨

[8:50 AM]

WHAT

NO

IM NOT

To: koo ✨

[8:50 AM]

OMGGGGGGG

YOU SAW HIM HELP ME SO YOU MUST BE IN MY CLASSSS

[8:51]

okay!

are you the frat guy who always comes in hungover???

no judgement

From: koo ✨

[8:51 AM]

NO

To: koo ✨

[8:52 AM]

are you the guy who only ever wears knitwear???

From: koo ✨

[8:52 AM]

NO

To: koo ✨

[8:53 AM]

…are you the professor?

From: koo ✨

[8:53 AM]

NO!!!!!

oh my god lets just meet up or something before i explode

To: koo ✨

[8:53 AM]

WAIT

ARE YOU SERIOUS????

From: koo ✨

[8:54 AM]

…you’re that excited to meet me?

To: koo ✨

[8:54 AM]

OF COURSE I AM

OH MY GODDDD

WHEN?

From: koo ✨

[8:54 AM]

now?

i can meet you at the campus coffee shop in like five minutes?

To: koo ✨

[8:55 AM]

five minutes???

that’s not enough time koo i have to go home and pick out something pretty to wear !!

From: koo ✨

[8:55 AM]

it doesn’t matter what you wear, you’re always beautiful to me

To: koo ✨

[8:56 AM]

you

you think im

b-beautiful 

: ’ ))))))))))

From: koo ✨

[8:57 AM]

…

haha see you there!! 

To: koo ✨

[8:57 AM]

GET BACK HERE WE HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THIS-

You sat on an empty table, fiddling with the tea bag tag which hung over the side of your mug. You had bought Green Tea as an effort to calm yourself down so you weren’t too anxious to meet Koo, but it hadn’t worked because you were impatient and sipped it too soon so now you were sat there nursing a burnt tongue like an idiot. 

You knew it was irrational to be self-conscious. He already knew who you were, and seemed to like you, it was just you that was in the dark. You went over the possible people Koo could be, mentally cycling through the boys in your photography class. It was an annoyingly large class, which meant he would be anyone from the guy who smelled like Funyuns to-

Fluffy-haired boy strolled into the coffee shop and you let out an involuntary sigh. He seemed to be cheerful, a smile exposing his bunny teeth and making his cheeks bunch up adorably, with like,  five different sets of dimples poked into them. You had never agreed more with the saying that dimples were caused by an angel’s kiss. 

Well, at least I’ll have something nice to look at while I wait, you thought, just before all your thoughts suddenly tipped out of your head when you realised he was walking towards your table. 

“Is this seat taken?” He grinned, before sliding into the seat across from you. 

You whimpered, and his smile grew devastatingly wider.

“Hi,” He breathed, before his gaze flickered down to your mug of tea, clutched so tightly in your hands that you worried the ceramic might shatter. “You didn’t get hot chocolate? I thought you had a sweet tooth?”

“Uhm-” You choked, before forcing yourself to get a grip. How would Koo feel if he walked in here and saw you sitting with another guy? “I’m actually- I’m waiting for someone. Sorry.”

If it was possible — and it certainly seemed to be — the boy’s grin broadened even more, his eyes crinkling into adorable half-moons.

“Is that so? Is he your boyfriend?”

“No!” You blurted, before flushing profusely. The boy across from you seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the display. “I mean- uhm, I don’t know. Maybe? This is our- this is our first actual meeting.”

“Oh?” The boy tilted his head, “Really? How exciting.”

You hummed in agreement, eyes fixed on your slowly cooling beverage. You raised it to your mouth to take a hesitant sip and- nope,  still too hot. You whined quietly, rubbing your sore tongue against the inside of your cheek to try and soothe it. 

“Oh, sweets,” The boy murmured across from you, and you were too distracted to notice the nickname. He plucked the mug out of your hands and placed it on the other side of the table, as if he was trying to make sure it couldn’t hurt you anymore. “Are you okay? Do you want me to take you to the campus infirmary?”

“Wha- no, it’s okay,” You mumbled, lisping slightly on your burnt tongue and blushing when he cooed over you, “It’s- I’m waiting here for someone, and- I mean, I don’t even know your name-”

“It’s Jungkook,” He interrupted cheekily, deliberately ignoring the rest of your statement, “Some people call me Kookie, and really special people call me… Koo.” 

Oh. Oh.

Fuck.

“Really special people?” You asked, your voice small, and not because of the burn. 

“Well, people…” Jungkook- Koo paraphrased, tilting his head slightly, “I guess it would be more accurate to say… one really special person.”

“Really?” You breathed, and Jungkook leaned over the table, close enough that you could smell his cologne, the same scent embedded in the fabric of your hoodie- his hoodie. 

“The most special person.” He murmured, the fervent emotion packed in each word speaking louder than any increase of volume could.

You had never been anyone’s most special person before, but, as you looked into Jungkook’s chocolate eyes, you started to believe you could almost taste it, sticky sweet on your lips. And when Jungkook eventually, finally coaxed your lips in a gentle kiss, you let him in, and found out that happiness tastes reassuringly honey-sweet. 

[blitzturtles]

Title: It Starts Like This, Ch. 7

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): BruAbba

Summary: Trish freezes in the doorway, mid-stride, but she doesn’t turn around. Her shoulders are tense, and she looks prepared to bolt at the slightest hint of trouble. It adds weight to his ongoing theory that she’s been steering clear of him, and now it’s time to confirm whether or not he knows why.

Notes: Turns out being dead has a bit of a long term effect. Who would have thought?

This fic got away from me, so I'm breaking it down by character interaction (sort of). This is Trish's chapter, which should be the second to last! I'll still write in this universe in the future, though they'll likely be one-shots going forward.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

-

Bucciarati steps into the kitchen, expecting it to be empty. As far as he knew, the only three people at home were Narancia, Leone, and himself. The former is busy doing his homework in the library, while Bruno’s just left Leone’s presence to explore the contents of the pantry. Alone. Or so he’d thought.

A blur of pink nearly startles Bucciarati as badly as he must scare Trish, considering the way she nearly jumps out of her seat at the dining room table. Rather than sit back down, she’s scrambling up to weave past him. “Oh! Bucciarati! I’m sorry, I can- I can go,” she says, moving almost too quickly for Bucciarati to recover in time to catch her, much less speak.

“Wait, Trish.”

Trish freezes in the doorway, mid-stride, but she doesn’t turn around. Her shoulders are tense, and she looks prepared to bolt at the slightest hint of trouble. It adds weight to his ongoing theory that she’s been steering clear of him, and now it’s time to confirm whether or not he knows why.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Bucciarati says, speaking the words slowly. Carefully. He doesn’t want to chase her off before they have a chance to talk.

Trish sucks in a breath, but she doesn’t find the right words to reply despite the frantic look in her eyes.

Bucciarati decides that’s his cue to continue. “Since the day in Giorno’s office, you won’t stay in any room that I am in alone.” He picks his words as carefully as he can. He’s not offended, but he doesn’t know how to emphasize that to her while still getting down to the root of the problem. “Something’s bothering you.”

“I’ve just been busy,” Trish manages to squeak out.

Bucciarati doesn’t need to brush up on his interrogation skills to know that she’s lying. She isn’t particularly good at it, either. At least not when she’s trying to lie to him. Someone else, maybe, but he sees right through the brave face she attempts.

“Trish.”

“It’s nothing! Really!” She grabs the doorframe, as if he might drag her back into the kitchen when she makes a run for it.

“If I may be so bold,” Bucciarati starts, still careful, “You’re feeling guilty. You have been for a while.” He doesn’t need all of his life experience to know that. The look on her face screams it.

Trish wavers in place. Her hand drops from the doorframe, but only so she can wrap her arms around her middle. She hugs herself tightly, as if she can ward away the onslaught of reality. It makes Bucciarati feel guilt of his own for pushing the subject. Maybe she isn’t ready, but he doesn’t want her pain to continue over this. He thinks she’s done more than enough self-loathing, and the punishment is unjust. She’s committed no crime.

Blood once meant everything to Bucciarati. He killed for his blood, traded his life away to the mafia for a few short and illness-riddled years for his blood, but he would never assign the sins of the father to that of the child. Trish is not-- and never has been-- her father. She isn’t capable of doing half of the things Diavolo did in his life.

Trish’s breathing hitches, and it’s all the encouragement that Bucciarati needs. He carefully moves toward her, stepping around her turned back so that they’re facing one another. He brushes his fingers through her hair and tucks some of it away from her face. The first tear falls then, and it breaks his heart.

“Trish,” he repeats, hoping she’ll look at him, but he knows she won’t. All she does is tuck her chin into her shoulder in shame. If she can’t run, then she might as well try hiding. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I know,” she says. Lies.

Bucciarati sighs, though immediately regrets it when Trish flinches away from him. For lack of a better idea, he pulls Trish against his chest and smooths a hand over her hair. “You didn’t do this.”

“But you did it for me!”

Ah. There it is.

“And I would do it again,” Bucciarati reassures. “I didn’t expect our path to involve you, but Giorno and I had intended on taking down your father before we met you. You didn’t change that.” Though she had given him a renewed purpose. A reason to fight even beyond death.

“It doesn’t matter,” Trish insists with a voice that breaks halfway through.

Bucciarati can feel the wetness of her tears against his-- or, rather, Abbacchio’s-- shirt beginning to build as more fall. He continues to brush his fingers through her mass of pink curls. “You didn’t hurt me, Trish.”

“But he did, and he did it because you were trying to protect me!”

“Losing you wasn’t an option,” Bucciarati answers with a gentle squeeze. He lets his chin rest on top of her head and takes a moment to calm his own thoughts.

“Why?” She asks when the silence stretches on between them.

Bucciarati doesn’t think that’s the question that she really wants to ask. And he knows that she doesn’t want-- and won’t accept-- the answer, anyway. Because you deserve to live, he would tell her, if it would mean anything to her right now. He knows what she’ll say in response. Knows she’ll tell him the same, and that his life wasn’t worth her’s.

“You didn’t choose this life,” it’s a gentle reminder, but one that she apparently needs. Her situation is a result of her birth. There’s nothing she did to warrant any of this. “None of this is your fault.”

“Like you did?” Trish snaps the words at him, all sharp edges and surprisingly painful. “Why do you think you deserve this?” She’s demanding now, despite the snuffle in her voice. She’s more anger than unending melancholy, and it’s throwing him off, but not as much the words himself. He doesn’t have an answer to give. Not this time.

She deflates after a moment of receiving no reply and tries to pull away, but he won’t let her. He knows she regrets the words, but he understands why they hang in the air. Why she had to say them. It’s not as if she’s wrong, but that doesn’t mean he knows what to do with them.

“You save everyone around you, and- and for what?” Her hand slams against his chest, open palmed and far from painful. “Was it really worth it?” Her voice is no more than a whisper now.

“Yes,” Bucciarati answers; this time without hesitation, because this is an answer that he does have. A truth that he knows with absolute certainty.

Trish chokes on a sob, and Bucciarati pulls her against him once more.

“Why?” She repeats her earlier question.

Grief is a miserable thing, and he finds that question at the center of it so often. He remembers asking himself that on a loop for years on end without ever finding an answer that satisfied him after all the suffering.

Silence stretches over them once more, and he lets Trish cry with the question hanging between them. It doesn’t matter anymore. The important part is that he’s pushed past the worst of it. He’s confident now that she won’t continue to avoid him. At least not to the same degree. The healing will take time, but he hopes that she’ll allow him to take part in it. That’s all he could truly ask of her anyway. He wants to be there for the people he cares about when they need it, regardless of whatever’s happening in his own head.

“I’m sorry,” Trish says when her sobs slow, and she’s hiccupping more than gasping. She tries to wipe at the tears with frantic hands, but he interrupts her to offer the handkerchief from his pocket.

“Don’t be.”

After taking a moment to wipe at her face, she looks at him again and her expression shifts to mild horror as she takes in the mixture of snot and tears staining the front of his shirt. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

Bucciarati can’t help barking out a short laugh. He squeezes her shoulder gently. “Ah, no harm done. It’s one of Leone’s, anyway.” The dismissiveness is only a joke. He’ll replace the shirt before Leone notices it’s gone, but he gets his intended effect when she lets out a startled laugh that has him smiling warmly at her in response.

“Oh, you were coming in here. Are you hungry?” Trish asks, suddenly remembering how their entire conversation started. She shifts her eyes to the table, clearly not ready to part ways now that they’ve worked through some of what’s been bothering her.

Bucciarati is more than happy to take the invitation. He goes a step further and turns it around on her, “Actually, I was thinking about having some gelato. Care to join me?”

“Depends,” Trish says with false hesitance. She’s teasing him now, and it makes him smile even wider in response, “What kind?”

“Stracciatella?”

Trish tries not to beam, and Bucciarati bites back an endeared laugh. She seems lighter now. Less restrained. She’s not trying to hide from him or avoid letting him see her emotions. There’s a weight off of her shoulders, and he’s glad that he could alleviate some of her misplaced blame.

“Can we eat in the living room?”

“I don’t see why not,” Bucciarati says with a shrug. It’s not as though they haven’t all broken that rule time and time again.

“You’re the best!” Trish calls as she bounces out of the room, presumably to find something for them to watch.

Bucciarati takes a moment to compose a text to Leone. A quick, barely legible update to the ‘Trish situation’, as they’d affectionately been calling it. Leone sends his response before Bucciarati’s phone touches the counter, and he bites back a fond smile, knowing that Leone must have been waiting for an update after so long. He’s doing his best to avoid being overbearing, but it’s not always easy.

Trish pokes her head back through the doorway before Bucciarati can set his phone back down, though she doesn’t give it a second glance before asking, “Are cartoons okay?”

“Depends,” Bucciarati says, reaching for the bowls. “Are they the ones Mista likes?”

“God no.”

“Then yes.”

[crackedoutgiraffe]

The Stars in Your Eyes

Part 2: Chapter 1 Part 2: Chapter 2 Part 2: Chapter 3 Part 2: Chapter 4 Part 2: Chapter 5

Master-list

A/N: Sorry this took so long to write. I haven’t really been in the right mindset to write this story. Thank you to everyone who comments, votes, and re-blogs! Ask to be added to the taglist.

2/20/2017

Reid was being held in the DC precinct. You spent all the time there that you could. Emily came in one morning to find you asleep on the chairs in the front office. JJ had been bringing him clothes and checking up on Diana. 

Every time you got to see him your heart broke a little more. He kept a smile on his face, but deep down you knew he was hurting. Emily made sure that you were given enough sick time so you didn’t have to leave Spence alone. 

The only day you weren’t with him was Friday. You had scheduled an appointment with your doctor to confirm your pregnancy, and she did. It was official in about 36 weeks you would welcome a brand new baby. 

“Y/N,” Prentiss called, “a really good friend of mine is one of the best defense attorneys in DC, I was hoping it was okay if she represented Reid.”

You rubbed your eyes and yawned, “I’m okay with it, but you have to ask Reid. I don’t want to do anything against his will.”

“I understand,” she sighed. “Do you want to ask him now?”

You checked your watch, it was a little late, but we really needed this lawyer, “I suppose.” You stood from the uncomfortable chair you were sleeping in and went with Emily to his cell. The door creaked open and the two of you entered the cell block. You got to Reid’s cell and saw him sitting up, wrapped in a blanket. 

“Hey,” he yawned. “You should be in the office.” 

“I'm right where I need to be, you nodded. “You ok?” 

“Yeah,” he said with a small smile on his face. “I'm ok. How's my mom doing?”

“She's doing well,” you haad been by to check on her every day for a few minutes. “JJ's been by to visit every day since your arrest. She explained everything to your mom. Cassie's been great. That makes a big difference.”

“I'm such an idiot,” when he hung his head your heart broke.

You wanted nothing more to hold him at this moment, “Don't, Spencer, don't. You were trying to help your mother.”

His eyes were sad, “I fell right into Scratch's trap.” 

“He won't win,” you reached one of your hands through the iron bars. You watched as Spence stood from his bed and walked over to you. 

“He already has,” he said as he interlocked his hand with yours. 

You smiled at his touch, “just the battle, not the war. You didn't do anything wrong.” 

“You and I both know that doesn't matter,” he looked you dead in the eyes. “All that matters is what the prosecutor can prove, and Scratch has stacked the deck against me. Even the FBI's abandoned me.”

“I know,” you brought your hands closer to you. “But we'll keep fighting.” 

“I don't even have a lawyer,” he sighed. 

“About that…” Prentiss interrupted. “I have a friend, Fiona Duncan. I've known her forever. Her father was in the foreign service, and we met in Italy when my mother was chargé d'affaires at the embassy there. After college, she was a Rhodes scholar. You'd like her. Anyway, now she's one of the best defense attorneys in D.C. I would like it if you would let me reach out to her about representing you.”

“Emily, I really, I appreciate it, but you helping me could destroy your reputation at the Bureau,” he turned toward your boss and let go of your hand.

“My battle, my choice,” she shook her head. “Please, let me help you. Tell me I can reach out to my friend.”

“Thank you,” he smiled and returned to you.

“Good,” Emily said. “Spencer, listen to me. We are gonna get you out of here, I promise.”

“Emily, I hate to ask this of you, but can we have a moment alone,” you gave her a warm smile and soft pleading eyes.

She returned your smile, “of course, I’ll be outside.” She started to make her way to the door; you didn’t talk until she had left.

“How stressed out are you?” you turned to Reid.

He furrowed his brow in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“I have some news for you, but if it’s going to cause you more stress, I won’t tell you.”

He brought your hand to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on the back of it, “whatever you have to tell me I can handle it.”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out. You watched as the words registered in his head. He let go of your hand. “Spencer?”

“Actually?” he asked.

You smiled, “actually.”

The mortified look on his face turned to a smile as he reached both his arms through the bars and wrapped you in a hug, “I’m going to be a dad!”

“Please keep your voice down, I haven’t told anyone else,” you sighed into whatever part of him you could.

“How far along are you?” he whispered, letting you out of the hug.

You smiled, “about four weeks.”

You watched as he dropped to his knees and put a hand on your stomach, “Hi there baby, I’m your dad.”

“And you’re going to be out in time to meet him or her,” you smiled at the love of your life kneeling on the floor. “I should let you get some sleep,” you sighed as he stood back up. He gave you a quick kiss and went to lay back on his bed. You walked toward the doors and waited for them to open. 

When you arrived back in the waiting room, you saw Emily sitting in a chair on the phone. It was implied that she was on the phone with her lawyer friend, so you decided to get some sleep at home. 

***

You woke up to a call from Emily saying that she was ready to meet with Reid. You quickly got dressed and made your way to the DC precinct. You found Emily and Fiona Duncan standing by the doors. 

“You must be Fiona Duncan,” you extended your gith hand.

She reciprocated your handshake and smiled, “that’s me.”

“I’m Y/N. Thank you for defending my husband,” you smiled as the three of you walked into the precinct. You three walked to the interview room and talked for a minute before the officer brought Reid in.

“Spencer, hello,” she extended her hand for a handshake.

“Hi,” he gave her a small wave instead of a handshake. 

“Fiona Duncan. Emily speaks very highly of you.” 

“You, too,” Reid smiled. “It's nice to meet you.”

“I'm sorry to be meeting under these circumstances,” Fiona frowned. “Emily, Y/N,  this is an attorney-client meeting. We'll need privacy.”

“Yes, of course,” you smiled.

“Are you ok?” you asked Reid before leaving. He gave you his answer with a kiss on the cheek. “All right. Bye.” The two of you were escorted back to the front desk by one of the officers. The only way you could think to pass the time was to tap your foot and pace the floor. Surely Emily was annoyed with you by now. Within an hour Fione came out of the shadows on a phone call. 

“Alright, thank you,” Fiona’s heels clicked against the floor as she walked back. “That was the AUSA they want to make a deal.” The three of you made your way to Reid in silence. 

“The AUSA has offered you a deal,” as Fiona delivered the news you watched as Reid’s face light up. “They want you to plead guilty.”

“They want me to plead guilty?” he repeated.

“To involuntary manslaughter,” Fiona sighed. “The offer’s for 2 to 5 years.”

Reid sighed, “2 to 5 years.”

“That's a lot of time,” you frowned. You tried to give him a look that said ‘hey i want you there to meet our child,’ but didn’t know if he understood. 

“I understand,” Fiona nodded. “But it's all about perspective. It's a lot more than nothing, but a lot less than 25 to life, which is what you'd be facing if convicted.”

He turned to you, “do you think I should take it?” 

“I think, given what's at stake, you owe it to yourself to carefully consider it,” you said.

“I don't think I can lie and say that I did this,” Spence hung his head. Your first reaction was to start rubbing his back. “Is that foolish?”

“No,” Fiona shook her head. “No, of course not. I don't want to see you plead guilty to a crime you didn't commit.”

“Or maybe I should cut my losses,” he looked at you. Seeming him so upset broke your heart. 

“Well, the offer is so low, is that a good sign?”Emily asked. “Does it mean that the government thinks they've got a weak case?” 

Fiona nodded, “possibly.” 

“So that's good,” you smiled. 

“Well, not necessarily,” Fiona said with a frown on her face. “It could also mean they're trying to clear the case quickly with minimal publicity. I honestly don't know what it means. And I'm not in the business of second-guessing good offers. Which this is. But I'm also not the one who will be doing time.” 

“What would you do in my shoes?” Spence raised his head and looked at Emily.

“I'm not in your shoes,” Emily shook her head. “It's a decision only you can make. Whatever you decide, I'm always in your corner.” 

We all are.

“Spencer, if you want to fight this to the end, I promise you I will bring everything in my arsenal to the battle,” the fact that Fiona was willing to fight for Spencer made you much happier. “But what I can't promise you is a better outcome than the one they're offering you today.”

Spence looked down at you. You could see the gears turning in his head, “I want to fight.”

You cleared your throat, “Fiona, can I talk to you in private for a moment?”

“Of course,” she nodded. The two of you left Prentiss and Reid alone to talk for a moment.

“I wanted to let you know that Reid and I are expecting a baby,” you fiddled with your hands and waited for her to respond.

“Y/N,” she sighed, “I am going to fight for him. I will give my all to clear his name.” 

You met her eye-line and wrapped her in a hug, “thank you.”

***

You received a call on the day of Spencer’s arraignment that they had found the knife. Emily told you that they had offered a new deal of 5 to 10 years, but Spencer declined. You grabbed your keys and made your way to the courthouse. 

When you entered you found Emily pacing the halls, “thank goodness you’re here,” she called when she saw you.

“Of course,” you wrapped her in a quick hug. “He’s still declining the offer?”

She nodded, “according to Fiona, yes.”

“That means we have to fight like hell,” you said as the rest of the team made their way to you. “I'm so glad you made it in time for the arraignment.”

“What did the kid decide about a plea?” Rossi asked. 

“I don't know,” Emily shook her head. “I'm not sure he does.”

“I can't stand the thought of him being in prison,” Garcia said.

Emily shrugged her shoulders, “but 5 years is a lot less time than 25.”

“He must be agonizing over this decision,” you sighed. 

“Well, whatever he decides, he has our full support,” Luke smiled.

“He knows that,” Emily placed a hand on you back. “It means a lot to him.” 

“We have to prove that Scratch did this,” Walked sighed.

Emily nodded, “we'll get him.” 

“They're calling his case,” you heard Fiona call from behind you. The eight of you made your way into the courtroom. You sat in the front next to Penelope. 

“Case number 149-CR 0308, the U.S. versus Reid,” the bailiff announced.

“Ms. Duncan,” the judge started, “your client is an FBI agent, correct?”

Fiona stood from her seat, “that's right, your honor.”

“You're charged with murder, which is a very serious matter,” the judge addressed Reid directly. 

He too stood from his seat, “yes, your honor.” 

“All right, Ms. Duncan, does your client wish to enter a plea at this time?” 

“He does,” she nods. 

“And how do you plead, agent Reid?” the judge asked. 

“Not guilty,” he announces. 

“Thank God,” Garcia whispered. 

“And as to bail?” the judge turns to face the other lawyer. 

He stands from his seat and adjusts his suit jacket, “the people oppose bail and request remand, your honor.” The court was filled with various sounds. You almost had a heart attack there in your seat.

“Your honor, my client presents no risk of flight,” Fiona was trying her best to defend Reid.

“That's ridiculous,” the AUSA lawyer shouted. “The defendant was arrested after fleeing the murder scene in Mexico.” 

“Those were extenuating circumstances,” Fiona sighed. “He'd been drugged against his will.”

“By failing to notify the FBI of his international travel, the defendant violated the Bureau protocol,” the AUSA lawyer’s voice was becoming very hostile. 

“My client presents no flight risk,” Fiona started. “He has deep ties in this community. His mother suffers from Alzheimer's disease and schizophrenia and lives with him. He is solely responsible for her well-being. Additionally, he's been a decorated SSA with the FBI's behavioral analysis unit for over a decade. 

“And as an FBI agent, he has contacts all over the world,” the lawyer seemed to be fed up with Fiona’s argument.

“Agent Reid would be willing to turn over both his personal and government-issued passports,” she continued.

“If he wanted a counterfeit passport, he could easily get one,” the other lawyer argued. 

“He has no criminal history,” Fiona rebutted. 

“The defendant is uniquely situated to evade law enforcement should he flee the jurisdiction.” 

She turned to face the judge, “your honor, he wants to stay here and clear his good name.”

“He should have thought about his good name before sneaking across the border,” the lawyer quipped.

“I'm prepared to present multiple law enforcement character witnesses on his behalf right now,” you listened as everyone behind you shifted in their seats. “The witnesses are here in the courtroom, all highly respected FBI agents.”

“Simmer down, Ms. Duncan,” you could hear the bitterness in the judge’s voice. “It's almost 6:00 and I'm not inclined to hear from character witnesses. Actions speak louder than words, I always say.”

“We'd be willing to abide by a curfew and strict monitoring of his whereabouts at all times,” she offered.

“Too little too late, counselor,” she sighed.

“Your honor his wife is pregnant,” Fiona finished. You saw Reid look at her and then you. You could feel the eyes of everyone in the courtroom on your back. They felt like hot knives.

“If past behavior is the best indicator of future conduct, and I do believe it is, then your client presents a flight risk. Bail is denied. The defendant will be remanded to federal custody pending trial.” You jumped at the sound of the judge’s gavel. Spencer looked back at you before he was dragged away. The panic in his eyes was enough to make your already broken heart shatter.

You stood from your seat and leaned closer to Fiona, “how long before his case goes to trial?”

“It's a complicated case. 3 months,” she shook her head before turning to face Spencer who was being dragged away in handcuffs. “Spencer, I'm sorry. I will come and see you as soon as I can.”

The rest of the night you refused to talk to anyone. The team tried to comfort you, but nothing worked. You cried yourself to sleep that night and every night after for a week.

Taglist:

@la-vie-en-amour1 @vixengustin88

[livethinking]

Hope is the last to die: how Nadezhda Yakovlevna saved Osip Mandelshtam’s poems

If we can still read the Voronezh Notebooks, it’s because the courage and perseverance of Nadezhda Yakovlevna Mandelshtam (nee Khazina) who, for love, learnt by heart every single lines written by her husband, Osip Emilevich Mandelshtam, in order to transcribe them; who, for love, travelled throughout the whole Russia to run away from being arrested and so saving the few manuscripts left (which many of them were destroyed, got lost, or stolen by the Rudakovs), including during World War Two German invasion in Russia; who, for love, was able to spread Mandelshtamks poetry collections via Samizdat and managed to, after several attempts, make rehabilitate his husbands name. A love that in Nadezhda’s memoir seems imperfect but it’s stronger than Stalin’s regime, than censorship, than hunger; a love that overcame death. Love for Osip and his works, for culture, for freedom. It doesn’t seem a coincidence that her name is Nadezhda, which means “hope” in Russia and, indeed, she had never surrendered to fear because she hoped sooner or later her husband’s books could be published officially again. Nadezhda Yakovlevna collected and saved from war and secret police partly for Mandelshtam’s archive, hiding the manuscripts inside pans or sewing them to pillowcases, learning by heart her husband’s verses in the night of during her night shift in a textile factory (where she worked after Mandelshtam’s death, during her pilgrimage to run way from NKVD, and before getting a job as English language teacher). But Nadezhda didn’t only save the poems, she writes in her memoir: «I am now faced with a new task, and am not quite sure how to go about it. Earlier it was all so simple: my job was to preserve M.'s verse aod tell the story of what happened to us. The events concerned were outside our control»[1]. During Khrushchev’s era, she wrote three memoir books, Vospominaya, Vtoraya kniga e Kniga tretya (further a critical book on Osip’s poems, Kommentarii k stikham), first published in the US, the first under the title of Hope Against Hope in 1970, and the second one as Hope Abandoned, in 1974. In these memoirs she tells about her husband, the poetic work, the last years of Mandelshtam’s life with poignancy and much resolution, the horrible years of Stalinian Terror, nor missing to scold those intellectuals who committed to the socialist realism and bureaucrats but understanding the people, who ere in turn victims of fear and poverty. Her memoirs are «a scream of pain suffered for decades», pages that tell not only Nadezhda and Osip’s life together, but that also enlighten the abyss where they fell into. Those pages is a scream of hope after much silence and the continuation of Osip Mandelshtam’s testimony. Nadezhda moved her lips for him, when he couldn’t do this anymore.

Nadezhda Yakovlevna didn’t limit herself to this: she edited the Samizdat edition of the last Mandelshtam’s works, even though she wanted her husband’s poetry would have been published officially. She realised how huge was the circulation of this clandestine edition and she got surprised, because, despite the education system designed to affirm the socialist realism as the lonely critical canon, despite the censorship, the discrimination against a certain group of intellectuals and the destruction of the intelligentsia, «new readers come into being before our very eyes, but to understand how it happened is quite impossible. All one can say is that it came about against all the odds. The whole educational system was geared to preventing the appearance of such readers»[2]. Poetry can’t die because it’s life itself, because there will be always someone who manages to save and transcribed verses, including during terror, because it’s only in this way we can protect our Ego when everything is divided in indefinite “us” and “them”.

During Khrushchev era, Nadezhda understood something was changing and several names there weren’t published any longer, got rehabilitated. Osip Emileivich Mandelshtam’s name appeared only in samizdat and many didn’t dare to pronounce it yet; his name too should have been rehabilitated because he was arrested and condemned while he didn’t commit a crime, and so Nadezhda Yakovlevna, in the middle of the 50s, tried to get Mandelshtam rehabilitated, meeting Aleksey Surkov several times, poet and prominent figure of the Union of Soviet Writers. In 1956, Osip Mandelshtam will have been cleared from the accuse of “counterrevolutionary activities” of 1938, but only in 1987, during Gorbachëv’s administration, his name was completely rehabilitated and cleared from all the charges. Still through Surkov’s help, in 50s, Nadezhda tried to get published all Mandelshtam’s works officially. If Surkov was optimistic, many times the Party denied this idea, especially after the “Zhivago affaire”; Mandelshtam kept being a controversial name. Official publication of Mandelshtam’s work happened only in 90s. Nadezhda Mandelshtam died in 29th December 1980; after ten years her death, in 1990, the Voronezh Notebooks appeared in a complete and official edition in Moscow. «My odd experience, that as witness to poetic work, tells me it’s impossible to put a foot in the throat, it’s impossible to put a muzzle. It’s one of the most sublime human expression, bringer of universal armonies, and it can’t be anything else»[3].

Viviana Rizzo

Reference:

[1] MANDELSHTAM, N.J., Hope Abandoned, New York, Atheneum, 1974, p. 3

[2] Ivi, p. 9

[3] «La mia strana esperienza, quella di testimone del lavoro poetico, mi dice che è impossibile mettergli un piede sulla gola, impossibile infilargli la museruola. È una delle espressioni più sublimi dell'uomo, portatore di armonie universali, né altro può essere», in MANDEL’ŠTAM, N. J., L’epoca e i lupi. Memorie, with an introduction by Clarence Brown, trans. Ita by Giorgio Kraiski, Milano, Mondadori, 1971, p. 221

Sources:

1. FRISIA, A., “Coraggio e poesia. Osip e Nadežda Mandel’štam” in Gariwo: la foresta dei Giusti, web, 30.10.2014, p. 6, https://it.gariwo.net/dl/201410300557_30%20ottobre%20Osip%20e%20Nadezda.pdf (retrieved 18 November 2020)

2. KUVAKDIN, J.,, “Ulica Mandel’štama. Povest’ o stikakh”, in Bibilioteka Aleksandra Belousenko, web, 16.11.2004, https://web.archive.org/web/20071017204834/http://belolibrary.imwerden.de/books/Kuvaldin/kuvaldin_mandelshtam.htm# (retrieved in 20 November 2020)

3. MANDELSHTAM, N.J., Hope Abandoned, New York, Atheneum, 1974

4. MANDEL’ŠTAM, N. J., L’epoca e i lupi. Memorie, with an introduction by Clarence Brown, trans. Ita by Giorgio Kraiski, Milano, Mondadori, 1971

[princesscyr]

Gold & Venom, A Fortnite Fanfic. Chapter 2 - Steel

Rating: PG-13 Pairing: Midas/Yellowjacket Platforms posted: Wattpad, ao3

Word Count: 2936

The day Yellowjacket’s class graduated from agent training was the day Jules decided to throw an office pizza party. Jules had been so excited for the new agents to join the team she wanted them to feel welcomed. Who doesn’t like pizza anyway? Everyone was invited, including all the high ranking agents, henchmen, and additional staff. Midas refused to go until Jules called him a “boring bitch” and forced him to attend.

               So here he was, standing in the corner. A frown was carved into his face as everybody else was having a good time. Current agents were introducing themselves to the new agents, new agents were expressing their excitement to work with them. Midas rolled his eyes as he saw Fusion grab three pepperoni slices to put on his paper plate.

               “Sick party, Jules!” Fusion exclaims, taking a big bite out of one of the slices on his plate.

               Jules grins at him, “Thank you! I think it’s nice we have more members within the agency now, don’t you?”

               Midas watched as the two of them walked away. He took a sip of his fruit punch, glancing around the room. He stumbled forward when somebody ran into him, causing him to spill some of his fruit punch on the floor.

               He turned around to glare at whoever ran into him before his gold eye met with big brown eyes. It took seconds before realization hit him. This was the same girl who would look at him and then roll her eyes. For the last two weeks they’d make eye contact every single day, whether it was when she’d pass by his office in the morning to talk to Jules, or at the breakroom midday, or when she’d come into his office to drop off her paperwork. When she’d come into his office, she’d try to avoid his gaze but always end up looking at him. At first, he thought his eye was playing tricks on him when he saw a light shade of pink dust along her face. After all, he did have trouble with vision having one eye. That reaction was consistent with every other meeting.

               Midas was used to people fawning and fanning over him, pointing him out of a crowd and squealing. He wasn’t unattractive in the slightest, if anything he was almost every person’s ideal man. It humbled him that Yellowjacket would roll her eyes at him even when she’s blushing. They haven’t said a word to one another but Midas knew. He knew he affected her. He was always first to make moves, but this… this intrigued him. The way she would avoid his eyes for the first few seconds before looking back and rolling her eyes, a blush following soon after, or the way her lips turned into a pout when he’d initiate the starring contest, making her squirm as though she didn’t want him to look at her.

               “Oh—“ she apologizes, her face turning pink quickly, “I’m so sorry sir, I wasn’t paying attention. Here, I can get you a new drink and clean up the mess—“

               I could get used to being called sir, he smirked, keeping the thought to himself.

               His eye looked her over. She was shorter than him, standing at 5’8” with her boots. She must’ve been 5’5” without them. Yet here she was, looking up at him with her hands on her hips.

               She scowls at him, “Are you just going to stand there and stare at me? Ugh, you’re so weird!” she rolls her eyes, squirming under his gaze.

               Midas chuckles, “I’m not the one who rolls my eyes at strangers, Doll. Judgmental much?”

               “Whatever,” she huffs as she takes a paper napkin from the nearby table to clean up the mess.

               Yellowjacket tried to hide her blush as she wiped the floor. It was his voice and British accent that made her shiver. This was her boss’s brother and here she was making a fool of herself by walking into him and spilling his drink. At the same time, she wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.

               After wiping up the mess she stands up to dispose of the napkin, her back facing Midas.

               “Aren’t you going to get my drink?” he asks.

               Yellow turns to look at him, “I was, but then I noticed you have two working hands and the punch bowl is right next to you.” She gestures towards the punch bowl that’s on the table beside them.

               He looks into her eyes this time, a smirk plastered on his face.

               “You’re right, here…” he trails off, his gold hand immediately going to her hip.

               The sudden action stunned Yellow as she watched him use his free hand to grab a cup while leaning into and around her, keeping his hand on her hip. He kept eye contact with her and seeing her squirm in his hold made him squeeze her hip as if he was telling her to stay still. She stopped moving with a frown on her face.

               Once he got his drink, he released his grip on her hip. She had the same frown on her face while a smile grew on his.

               “You should stop frowning, darling. It’s not a good look on you.” He looks her over again, pleased with his work done on her.

               Yellows face felt like it was on fire and the frown soon dropped off her face and was replaced by a pout, “I’m—“ her voice higher than normal when she realized what he had said to her.

               This golden hoe just told her to smile. Her next reaction was priceless. She snatches the drink out of his hand before throwing it at him.

               “You fucking dick!” she shouts, causing the music to be cut short and everyone to look over at both of them.

               She throws the cup at him next, “Don’t you ever touch me again and then expect me to smile as if you did me a favor!”

               She excuses herself, quickly moving towards the exit without looking back at him. Midas stood there speechless, his clothes now soaked in fruit punch and everyone was staring at him. When he would look to the others, they would avoid his gaze or shake their head at him. Others would scoff and blame him, telling him how his humiliation is the best part of the party. This situation was almost as bad as the time he was nearly eaten by a shark, but the shark wasn’t as cute as Yellow.

               With everyone looking at him, Midas began to get annoyed. His ego was wounded, to be embarrassed this way in front of everyone by a woman was humiliating.

               “Why do you all insist on looking at me?! The situation ended! Stop fucking looking at me!” he snaps, the gold from his hands beginning to creep up his arms slowly.

               “Calm down, Midas. You don’t need to make a scene out of this,” one of the henchmen nearby warned him, his voice firm.

               That was the cherry on top of Midas’ angry sundae. Immediately he moved back to the table, placing his hand down on it. The table had begun to turn into solid gold, causing some of the party-goers to look at each other with panic. A few of the henchmen started to approach Midas, but Jules called them off with a click of her tongue. Confused, they backed off. All they could do is obey their boss and entrust she has the situation under control.

               Jules made a move to approach him, only to jump back when he lifts the now golden table and flips it over, causing the punch bowl, napkins, and various food dishes to fall with it. The other party-goers ran away in a panic, most of them were screaming and others were trying to bring more henchmen into the room. The only people left in the room were Midas, Jules, and the few henchmen that were already present.

               “Midas,” Jules starts, “You need to calm down right now. We need to talk in my office because this behavior is unacceptable and I expected better from you.”

               At this point, most of Midas’ body was in gold, mainly his arms and upper part of his neck. He had a bit of a way to go before his face would turn gold.

               “You expected better from me?!” he yells, followed by laughter, “Who are you to demand such things of me, child?!”

               “You are mad because a woman disrespected you. You need to get over that. You have no right to be mad here, you knew what you were getting into when you took my job offer.” Jules tries to reason with him, her voice calm.

               “You forced me to attend this shit fest you called a party, Jules.” He hisses, “Now I see why you did, this was your way of getting entertainment for the party. Fuck you.”

               They stood there, glaring at each other for what seemed like an eternity. The gold started to return to his hands slowly. Jules breaks the stare, clearing her throat.

               “My office, shall we?” she asks him, to which he reluctantly accepted.

There was a tense silence between the two of them as they sat in her office. Midas was still wearing the same fruit punch stained clothes.

               Jules broke the silence first, “Your behavior was uncalled for, Midas. I did not expect you to react the way you did. You do not know that agent you were speaking to, and yet you exploded because she threw a drink at you?”

               Midas rolls his eye, “That’s not why I’m mad. Why do you deflect from the problem? I was annoyed because everyone was looking at me like I had committed some crime, and it became worse when I was told to calm down.”

               “I’m not deflecting from anything. I saw the entire situation. You made a disrespectful comment to one of my agents and she reacted as such. Midas, I can’t believe I have to police everything you do. This isn’t your agency, do you understand?” she says as she rubs her face, mainly from stress, “This is my agency. I am your boss and you cannot disrespect my employees without some sort of discipline.”

               “Your employees are disrespecting me as well, Julia. Throwing their files at me when my desk is right in front of them, poking fun at me as I’m passing the halls to get to the break room, the list goes on.” He argues.

               “Reactions such as those are warranted. You’ve ruined people’s lives with your selfish behavior. I can only do so much for you, such as protecting you from harm. I cannot prevent the words that come from their mouths, nor will I stop it either.” She replies to him, spinning in her chair to face her cabinet.

               Jules opens the cabinet drawer, pulling out a sheet of paper and a pen.

               “I was going to make you sit in a cell for 3 days, but I think this will build some character in you. I want you to write a formal apology letter to Yellowjacket, for your inappropriate comment. I expect it to be a sincere, heartfelt apology. I will read it when you are done and if it’s to my satisfaction, I will sign off on it and bring it to her.” Jules explains as she sets the paper and pen down in front of him.

               Midas groans, opening his mouth to complain, only to close it immediately when he saw the glare Jules was giving him. If looks could kill, he’d be liquid gold right now. So he starts to write an apology.

               Forty-five minutes had passed and Jules was satisfied with Midas’ apology letter to Yellowjacket. She made sure he emphasized what an arrogant asshole he had been towards her and how it wouldn’t happen again. Jules signed off on the apology letter before she motioned for a henchman to come over.

               “Please take this to Yellowjacket.” She ordered him.

               The henchman nodded, taking his leave immediately to look for the agent.

               “Get out of my sight, Midas. Go change your clothes and get back to work. You ruined the party and everyone’s day as well.” Jules dismisses him with a wave of her hand.

               Midas frowns at her, but he got up, not wanting to anger her further.

                He took his leave, walking to his room at a brisk pace. He took the elevator to avoid running into people, as he knew that word had spread fast about the party. He changed out of his stained clothes and put on fresh clothes before he made his way back to his office. He could feel the judgmental looks he was receiving from other agents and henchmen as he passed by. Midas never had to deal with this when he was a boss, it was easier just to kill people for looking at you wrong, or at the very least, look intimidating. But if there was something he learned from working at A.L.T.E.R. for a couple of weeks now, it was that these people have nothing to lose. They have killed for a lot less. Midas knew there was a target on the back of his head. The question is, who will get to him first?

               Midas makes it into his office, shutting the door and moving over to his desk. Opening his desk drawer, he pulls out his bottle of scotch and a cigarette. A wave of sadness hits him but was drowned out with the first sip of his drink. Instead, loneliness crept up. It had been a while since he socialized with anybody that wasn’t in his agency. The people he could socialize with at ease were gone, replaced by others who do not want anything to do with him. He had a confident exterior that hid the deep self-loathing within him. He takes a drag from his cigarette while his mind races with thoughts of the party. Midas knew he had made a mistake, the girl was being nice to him and he had to go and make an unnecessary comment. He hoped the apology letter would be enough. He could settle with her avoiding him like the plague, though part of him hopes that wouldn’t be the case.

               Yellowjacket had gone down to the training room to let off some steam. She couldn’t believe the nerve of that man. Who did he think he was? Just because he’s the boss's brother doesn’t mean he’s immune from the consequences of his actions. She kicks the practice dummy so hard, its body flies off the metal pole holding it in place. The practice dummy lands against the wall mat, falling to the ground with a thud. Yellow moves onto the next practice dummy and her friend, Siona watches her in amusement.

               “What’s got you so worked up, girl?” she asks as she rushes over to pick up the dummy.

               Yellow punches the next dummy, her fist hitting it made a soft thud.

               “Bosses brother was being a creep so I threw his drink at him.” She replies as she hits the dummy harder this time.

               “The golden king? Huh, I thought he didn’t talk to anyone. He’s usually a loner when I see him.” Siona shrugs.

               “What do you mean—“ Yellow was cut off by the rough clearing of someone’s throat.

               Both girls turn to look at who made the sound, it was a henchman.

               “Excuse me, ladies, I have an apology letter from Midas addressed to Yellowjacket.” the man read out the name on the envelope.

               Yellow, who was still annoyed and becoming confused approaches the henchman, “Yeah, that’s me? He wrote me a letter…?” she asks.

               “Yes ma’am. Ms. J required that he write you a formal apology for his disrespectful outburst at today’s party.”

               Yellow took the letter but refused to read it. She looked more offended than she did at the party.

               “And he expects me to accept his apology because he wrote me a letter? Fuck no, tell him to go fuck himself and apologize to my face. Ridiculous, has he no shame?” she pushes the letter towards the henchman who grabs it and accepts her request.

               “Yes ma’am, I will deliver the message to him. I do apologize if I have inconvenienced you with this.” With that, the man takes his leave, heading back to Midas’ office.

               Midas was half a bottle in when there was a knock on his office door.

               “Come in,” Midas slurred.

               The henchman stepped in with the apology letter in hand.

“Sir, Yellowjacket has requested me to tell you that you can go fuck yourself and that you need to apologize to her in person, and that apology letters are stupid. She is down in the gym right now, do you need an escort?” they ask him, handing him the apology letter.

               Midas sighs, “I guess there's no other option, give me a second—“ he hiccups, “Give me a second and I’ll be right out.”

               “You are drunk, sir? Not a good impression to be making on a lady of her caliber, but I digress.” They state, shrugging.

               “Hey, I don’t critique what you do in your life, henchman, don’t do it to me.” He barks, setting the bottle of scotch back in his desk drawer, slamming it shut.

               The henchman acknowledged his reply with a nod, waiting for Midas to gather his bearings. Once Midas joins him, they set off to the gym to talk to Yellowjacket.

[notyourbae365]

In the Blink of an Eye- Part 2/3

Request: A Malec fic where Rafe/Max gets kidnapped or sick and with angst and feels, but a happy ending! Thank you so much @crispyoperawolfdean, I hope you enjoy this story!

A/N: This is the second part of a three part fic so if you haven’t read the first part go check that out here. If there are any inaccuracies as far as the magic, I apologize, I haven’t read the books in quite a while and I couldn’t remember how Cassie described everything! So bear with me, please. I hope everyone enjoys, and if you do, please leave feedback! I love hearing from you guys! 

Summary: A Malec fanfic where Rafe is kidnapped and Magnus and Alec struggle with not knowing how to save their son. Angst, feels, tears, some fluff, and eventually a happy ending. 

“Rafe? Come on, you can stop hiding now. I already said I give up trying to find you.” Max waited for a response from his older brother, but all was silent. He couldn’t know, of course, that an answer wouldn't come. 

“Come on, Rafe! Seriously, come out of wherever you are. You’re starting to freak me out!” Max yelled, and then started to look over the area that they had set to hide in one more time. His search turned up nothing, and Max’s heart started beating rapidly. He had a sick feeling in his stomach that something bad had happened to Rafe. 

Fear in his heart, Max ran over to where Magnus and Alec were sitting on the picnic blanket. 

“Finally!” Alec said, smiling. “We were just about to go looking for you and...”, He stopped and looked around, “Rafe. Where is he?” Alec said, his eyes scanning the woods rapidly. Max was near tears at this point, scared to death. 

“I don’t know, that’s why I came over! We were playing hide and seek and then he was just gone!” The story tumbled out of Max’s mouth, all ran together in his panic. Alec stood up quickly, along with Magnus, who had been looking around for Rafe ever since Max ran up to them. 

“Magnus, can you track him?” Alec’s tone was panicked, and Magnus placed a hand on his arm to let him know he understood. Alec had been scared something like this would happen ever since he heard about the Shadowhunter he put away escaping. 

“I can try. I can use his jacket.” Magnus picked up Rafe’s windbreaker that the boy had discarded earlier in the day. He waved his hand over it and closed his eyes, hoping to pick up on his son’s location. Suddenly, his eyes flew open. “I picked up on a faint signal, it’s not a lot, he must be unconscious.” He stumbled over the last word, trying not to picture his son knocked out and helpless. 

“Where?” Alec said, putting the last remaining picnic item in the basket so that they could leave immediately. 

“That’s the weird thing. The signal is coming from our house.” Magnus said, his eyes wide and worried. 

“What the hell is going on?” Alec said, running his hands through his hair. Magnus put his hands on his husband’s face, and turned his head towards him. 

“Hey, it’s going to be okay, we’re going to get him back.” Alec took Magnus’ hands off his face and held them, tears welling in his eyes. 

“This is our son, babe. I can’t believe this is happening, I knew I shouldn’t have let them go into the woods alone. I should have went with them, I should have-” Magnus cut his husband off. 

“Stop. Blaming yourself isn’t going to get Rafe back.” Magnus gathered Max into his side, and wiped his tears away. “Look at Max, Alec. We can’t do this right now. We have to make sure he’s safe first, and then we can go get Rafe.”

Alec looked at Magnus with fire in his eyes. 

“Portal Max to the Institute. Then meet me at the house. Whatever son of a bitch that took my son is going to regret it.” 

“Alec, don’t do anything rash. You can’t go in there without a plan and risk endangering Rafe. Please, just...be careful.” Magnus pleaded. Alec nodded, and then bent down and kissed his husband. 

“I love you. We’re going to get our son back, I promise.” Alec said, and then he took off to the car. Magnus watched him go.

“You better be with him.” He said to the air where his husband had been. Max looked up at his father, his small face twisted with fear. 

“Is Rafe going to be okay?” Max said quietly, holding his dad’s hand tight. 

“Of course, sweetheart. Your dads will make sure of that. Whatever scum of the earth that took Rafe messed with the wrong family.” Magnus kissed Max’s forehead, and then turned to open a portal to the Institute. 

Magnus held his son’s hand tightly as they stepped into the swirling colors, and emerged standing in the doorway of the Institute. He called Izzy, and waited for her to pick up. Once she did, he explained to her the situation.

“I’ll be right down” Isabelle said on the phone, the panic in her voice evident. They hung up, and a few seconds later the door opened and Izzy stood behind it, her face twisted with worry. 

“Max will be safe here. You go help Alec bring my other nephew home safe. Believe me, if Max didn’t need me right now, I’d be going with you.” She leaned up and kissed Magnus’ cheek. “Be careful, Magnus. Protect them.” Izzy said, holding onto Max tightly. 

“I will, Iz. See you soon.” He opened another portal behind him, one that would take him directly outside his house. Alec should be there by now, and hopefully he hadn’t gone in yet. They had to figure out a plan, or else Rafe was going to be in even more danger.

Rafe POV:

Everything was dark. Rafe tried to open his eyes, but he still couldn’t see anything. A blindfold was blocking his vision, he realized. He felt hazy and confused. Where was he? What had happened? A quick assessment of his limbs revealed that both his hands and feet were tied, and he was up against something hard, because he could feel it pressing into his back. Suddenly, a voice pierced through the heavy silence.

“Ah, he’s awake!” It was gruff and cruel sounding, Rafe could almost picture the man curling his lip when he spoke. He pondered briefly that the current prohibition of his vision was making his other senses sharper, and his imagination work harder.

The thought was quickly interrupted, however, when his blindfold was roughly jerked off by a calloused hand and placed in his mouth instead. Rafe was shocked when he realized that he was in his own house.

“Welcome back, sunshine! I was starting to worry I’d used too high of a dosage.” The man smiled, but not kindly. Rafe was shaking, and he briefly wondered if this is how he was going to die, and not have any way to prevent it. He was still in Shadowhunter training, and he hadn’t gotten his runes yet. A couple of those would have certainly come in handy in this particular situation. But something told him this man already knew that. 

“You’re probably wondering who I am”, the man continued. Rafe nodded, unable to speak. “I’m someone your father has made very angry, and you were the perfect way to repay him for the injustices that he has dealt me. Now, I’m going to take this gag out of your mouth, and untie your feet, and we’re going to go over to the front door, where you are going to tell your dads that have been standing outside that door for the last ten minutes that you are perfectly fine, but you won’t be if they don’t comply with my demands. Understand?” Rafe nodded his head quickly, and the man bent down to start untying the ropes. 

The knots around his feet were undone quickly, and the gag was next. A rush of words came flowing out of Rafe’s mouth as soon as he could talk.

“How did you get into my house? And how did you know to find us at the park? What did my dad do to you? What are you going to do to me? What am I-” The kidnapper stopped him by putting his rough hand over Rafe’s mouth.

“Oh my God, shut up, kid! Let’s just say I have my ways, okay? And as for what your dad did to me, that’s between me and him. And I’m not going to do anything to you if you keep your damn mouth shut.” The man finished. 

“If it’s between you and Dad, then why am I here?” Rafe said, pushing his luck a little bit. Dad had always said to keep them talking if you’re ever in a hostage situation. Nine times out of ten it keeps them distracted from what they’re doing long enough for you to figure out how to leave. Unfortunately for Rafe, he was a normal eleven year-old boy with no Shadowhunter runes to help him out. 

“You’re a smart kid, aren’t you? Too smart. Now shut the hell up, and come over to the door to let your dads know you’re all right.” He dragged Rafe over to the front door and motioned for him to start talking.

“Dad, Papa?” Rafe said hesitantly. On the other side of the door, rustling could be heard.

“Rafe, sweetheart? Are you hurt?” Rafe heard Magnus asking him. 

“No Papa, I’m okay. But there’s a man here that says he’ll hurt me if you don’t do what he says.” Rafe started to cry, the fear of the situation catching up with him. “Please do what he says”, Rafe said, tears evident in his voice. 

“You son of a bitch! If you even lay a finger on my son I’ll kill you.” Rafe heard Alec this time, the rage in his voice scaring him a little. The man just chuckled. 

“Ah ah ah, Mr. Lightwood. I’m the one that has all the power right now. You’ll get your son back, but only if you do what I say. I’m not going to beat around the bush here. I want a complete pardon from the Clave, and a ticket out of the United States. I’ve heard the Bahamas is beautiful this time of year.” The man smiled fondly, as if picturing it. Rafe trembled, waiting for his dad’s response.

“You’re out of your mind. The Clave will never give you a pardon after all the crimes that you’ve committed. You’re a danger to everyone. They wouldn’t just write that off because I ask them nicely.” Alec said, disbelief and frustration in his voice.

“Well, you’d better figure it out quickly, because you’ve only got six hours before your precious son comes back to you in a casket.” The man sneered at Rafe, turning his blood ice cold. 

Rafe started to cry harder. This is it, he had no other option. This man was going to kill him. 

[munchyn]

Blue Eyes| Daniel x Reader Chapter 5- Hijacked Date

Chapter 1| Chapter 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4| Chapter 5| Chapter 6| Chapter 7| Chapter 8| Chapter 9| Chapter 10| Chapter 11| Chapter 12| Chapter 13| Chapter 14| Chapter 15| Chapter 16| Chapter 17| Chapter 18| Chapter 19| Chapter 20 (Coming Soon)

I’m not going into details about the crimes we committed in Aphrodite’s department that night. I’m just gonna say that me (and the boys) got kicked out of the “fancy” restaurant in which Daniel and Y/n were eating in (it was just McDonalds). But considering what we did. Even McDonalds has the right to kick us out. Good thing we were all disguised and unrecognizable. I got back to my house after the events and the boys went to their hotel.

I went straight up to my room before Y/n got back from her date. I pulled on my pajamas and jumped onto my bed, which was still unmade, and started watching Netflix.

Y/n POV

“Well tonight was quite the night,” I said to Daniel as we neared Y/f/n’s house. He nodded and laughed.

“Yeah, I never thought I’d see McDonalds kick someone out,” he said and we both laughed. We got to Y/f/n’s house and we went up to her door. He turned to look at me before knocking or signaling that we were there in any way. “Even with all those crazy things happening to us I still enjoyed it.”

“Yeah,” I say. “This may sound cheesy but if I were with any other person I would have left the theatre in 0.2 seconds.” There was a little moment of silence and next thing Daniel gave me a small kiss… on the lips. What?

He played it off pretty well, and if it weren't for his trembling hands I wouldn’t have ever even considered he was nervous. I smiled at him and gave him a hug. “I hope I’ll get to see you sometime again,” I say and kiss his cheek I opened the door to Y/f/n’s house. I went up to Y/f/n’s room and knocked before walking in. Needed to at least give her a warning. “Hey,” I say at the figure covered in blankets. “How was your day?” Y/f/n shrugged.

I got under the covers with her and saw that she was watching Netflix. “I just came back home,” she said. “Decided I’d watch (your favorite Netflix show). Get into your pajamas! You’re soaking wet.” I glare at her.

“Well, it’s not my fault that it’s raining outside,” nevertheless I got out of her bed and changed into my warm pajamas and put on my (favourite band) hoodie. Once again, I slipped into the covers with Y/f/n. “What did you do?” Y/f/n’s face turned into one of terror.

“What do you mean?” she said with a worried look. I didn’t know what look I gave her but it got me my answer. “I went… I… went… to the museum.” I raised my brow at her.

“The museum?” I ask. “You wouldn’t go there over your dead body.” Her face went red all over. What was going on?

Y/f/n POV

I got even more worried as Y/n continued asking her questions. Did she know what me and the boys did? What was she going to do about it? Was she going to end our friendship? Oh, gods please don’t let it be that.

“Y/f/n,” she said a concerned look on her face. “Your face is all red.”

Finally, I broke. “I’m sorry Y/n. I didn’t know it would end up like that!” I hid my face in my hands in frustration. God that was relieving.

“What?” she said, not having a clue about what I was talking about. Shit, now I really fucked it up. “Y/f/n what did you do?” her voice was now one of anger.

[Timeskip brought to you by Jack’s noodles]

Y/n POV

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “So let me get this straight,” I took a deep breath. “You’re the one that had those huge coats on and the ones that got kicked out McDonalds. You did all those stupid and RECKLESS THINGS!” I started pacing around the room. “You try to control my love life when you don’t even have one yourself! If I am going to get myself a boyfriend I’m assuming that it’s best to be myself and not some fake version of me. It would be like lying, and the only thing that’s worse than that is when my own friend tries to make things ���better” by hijacking my date!” Y/f/n opened and closed her mouth like a fish. I could feel my face as red as a tomato. I sighed. “You are extremely lucky he kissed me at the end of it. Y/f/n’s eyes were open in shock and excitement.

“REALLY!” she said sitting me down harshly onto her mattress. “Why didn’t you tell me!” I rolled my eyes at her.

“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because I was too busy venting about you hijacking my date,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my voice. This time it was Y/f/n’s turn to roll her eyes. She stuck her tongue out at me. “Anyway, so yeah he kissed me.” Y/f/n then looked at me with squinting eyes.

“Is it a kiss kiss or just what you consider a kiss?” she asks me. I roll my eyes the second time tonight.

“I by a “kiss kiss” you mean on the lips then yeah,” I say and she nods. Y/f/n huffed out a laugh. I looked at her with a questioning look.

“It’s just,” she paused. “My girl finally had her first kiss.” I glared at her and shoved her arm playfully.

“That was not my first kiss!”

Zach POV

Me and Y/f/n were kicked out of McDonalds. Jack, Corbyn, and Jonah walking out after us. “Well that didn’t go as planned,” I say and they all look at me. Their faces screaming out that I was super stupid. “At least it couldn’t get any worse.”

“It could get worse if Y/n and your friend found out what we did,” said Y/f/n. “So I suggest you get back to the hotel while I go back home.”

We went back to the hotel and as soon as we got to our assigned room we put our pajamas. I sat down on the couch and got on my phone. Jack sat down beside me and also pulled out his phone.

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to write this. I have already started on chapter 6. I wrote McDonalds a total of 5 times in this. I must be in love with Big Macs and chicken nuggets.

[intothedanvers-e]

Unspoken

Word Count: 2.8k Pairing: Peter Parker x reader (Boy Meets World AU)

Summary: You’ve known Peter Parker since you were kids. You’ve gone through elementary school and middle school with him and his attached-at-the-hip best friend Ned Leeds. You and Peter always had an unspoken chemistry, you’d always considered him one of your best friends; but why did starting high school make you feel like there was something more there? Something the two of you felt like you couldn’t say out loud out of fear of shattering your friendship?

Author’s Note: i hope you all enjoy this chapter! sorry i posted it so late, ive had it written for a while but ive been busy all day so i hope you enjoy it! if you want to be part of a taglist lmk! comments and feedback are encouraged :)

Here’s my masterlist!

Prologue Part 1 Prologue Part 2 Prologue Part 3

Chapter 1

It was the last week of summer before you started your senior year, and luckily Mr. Stark also gave the four of you another summer internship. This time around he was letting you guys get more hands on, even letting you get one on one time to help him make improvements onto Peter’s Spiderman suit. You were working on something with Ned when Tony rushes down the stairs and called to you.

“Y/N your dad is on the phone.”

“My dad is at work why would he be calling me?”

“Don’t know maybe he wants to check in?”

“He knows I’m here and that I’m safe.”

“Y/N, go answer the phone will you?”

You finally looked up at him and caught on to his facial expressions. You set down your tools and rushed up the stairs. You saw Peter on the couch with an ice pack resting on his eye, squeezing a pillow to keep himself from screaming while Pepper tended to a wound on his abdomen.

“Peter are you ok?!” you said kneeling down next to him.

He was sweaty and clearly in pain, but smiled as soon as he saw you.

“You should see the other-HOLY SHIT!”

He instinctively grabbed your hand and squeezed it.

“You’re doing amazing bud,” Pepper said trying to smile at the injured boy.

He gave you a weak smile and tried wiping away at the sweat that was forming again on his forehead, but he didn’t let go of your hand.

“Tell her what happened Parker,” Tony said crossing his arms in front of him.

“Yeah tell me what happened Parker,” you said trying to smile empathetically.

“I was walking over to buy my regular sandwich at Mr. Delmar’s shop and I walked past a group of guys who were all talking about how that was the ‘next spot’ they were planning to ‘hit’ tonight when no one was around so I hid in the alley and suited up thinking they were trying to rob the shop.”

“Keep going.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Turns out…they were just repair men. One was actually Mr. Delmar’s cousin, and he didn’t want the repairs to take up business time so they had agreed to meet after he closed for the day.”

“Wait so how did all this happen?”

“Oh he’s not done,” Tony said taking a step closer to Peter.

“I thought it would be best to stop them before they could commit the crime you know? So I… “

“Peter you didn’t,” you said face palming onto your other hand.

“Oh he did.”

“They thought I was trying to rob them so they started hitting me with their equipment, who knew pipes were that strong? Anyway your dad rushed out and I tried to explain to him, which ended up in him explaining everything to me, and well you know.”

“Peter why’d you do that? You should’ve just called the police.”

“He did it because he’s a kid and still doesn’t fully understand when to ‘jump into action’. Seems like a painful way to learn this lesson kid.”

“He was doing the right thing Tony. He was protecting his neighborhood,” Pepper said taping gauze over his abdomen injury.

“No Pepper, this was not the right thing darling. There are things put into place to help prevent stuff like this, it shouldn’t have to fall on the shoulders of a 17-year-old kid!”

“But it does Mr. Stark I- “

“No Peter it doesn’t and it- “

“I’ve been going to that shop since I was a kid. I went to his baby shower, he asked me to be part of his daughters 15th birthday celebration, I know how much that shop means to him and his family. I refuse to let anything happen to the people in my neighborhood Mr. Stark, and when I have powers that can prevent the people I care about being hurt it does fall on my shoulders to protect them. I’m not complaining about it, but when you can do the things that I can, but you don't, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.”

Pepper put a blanket over Peter and rubbed Tony’s shoulder before walking out.

“We’re having a very serious discussion about this later kid,” Tony said before walking out behind Pepper.

“Y/N please don’t- “

“I’m not mad at you Peter,” you said giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

He didn’t have to hold onto it anymore, but you didn’t want him to let go.

“You know I had to- “

“Peter, if I were you I would’ve done the same thing.”

He smiled up at you and readjusted the ice pack on his face.

“I’m just sorry that this had to happen to you,” you said looking down to gauze that was creating a slight bump under the blanket.

“It’s nothing really.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you said suddenly engulfing him in a hug.

He was a little caught off guard but quickly hugged you back. You could feel his body relaxing into the hug, and if you were honest so was yours. You cleared your throat and quickly stood up.

“So the suit needs more defense.”

“What?”

“It needs more defense mechanisms. It needs a way for you to take hits and not feel it as much.”

“That sounds so cool.”

“I can already think of a couple ideas that could work. I gotta go get my sketchbook.”

“Hey wait don’t leave me!”

“I’ll come back up you big baby,” you said before descending onto the stairs.

“Love youuuuu,” he yelled in a sing-songy tone.

You smiled as you climbed down the steps.

The day before your first day of senior year you spent it as a lazy day at home. Tony and Pepper left for a small vacation, MJ was having family from out of town visit, Ned was doing some research on the courses he was taking this year, and Peter was going to spend all day with May. Your dad was gone almost all day so you spent it cleaning the apartment and had now moved on to cleaning your room. You were cleaning out your notebooks from last year when you suddenly heard a tap on your window. You turned to look at the window, but ignored it and kept cleaning. Suddenly the window was pulled open and Peter was jumping in.

“That always scares the shit out of me you asshole! I told you to text me before you do that!” “I did! I got no reply!” he said throwing his backpack and webbing it to your wall.

You looked at him confused and looked around the room.

“You know what, I have no idea where my phone is so you’re right. Sorry bud.”

“You keep doing…that and I’ll call it and see if it rings.”

“It’s on vibrate,” you said giving him an innocent smile.

“Okay, well shush I can hear the vibrations remember?”

“You’re so useful,” you said trying to clean your desk drawers out as quiet as possible.

He called your phone, walking around your room to see if he could hear it vibrating. He walked up to your closet door.

“Did you clean your closet today?”

You thought for a second before nodding.

“I did!! And my dad called me while I was to let me know he was going to eat dinner with the Delmar’s, so I probably left it in there. Thanks Petey,” you said opening the closet and grabbing your phone off the shoe rack.

You threw the phone onto your bed and walked back over to your desk. Peter closed the closet door a little too hard and you heard something come slamming down.

You turned to look at him.

“What did you do?”

“Sometimes I forget that I’m a little too strong,” he said quietly as he sat on your bed.

You rolled your eyes and walked back over to the closet. You opened it and on the floor was your box, the lock had snapped and the stuff was all over your closet floor. You bent down to pick it up, and Peter felt bad so he came to help you.

“No it’s fine I got it.”

“No let me help I feel bad.”

“No Peter it’s fine you said you- “

“Does that envelope have my name on it?”

“No! I just need to pick up all- “

“Y/N a lot of those say Peter.”

You grabbed all the pieces of paper and threw them into the bottom half of the box that remained. You managed to get them all out of his hands.

“Peter let it go,” you said taking the box over to your desk.

“Hey you forgot something,” he said holding the picture of your mom.

You took it and put it on top of the other pieces of paper face down.

“Thanks,” you said looking down at the floor.

Silence engulfed the room.

“Y/N I’m not an idiot, a lot of those papers said my name on them.”

“Well all of those papers are none of your business,” you said turning away from him and going back to cleaning out your desk drawers.

“Oh we’re keeping secrets now?”

“Oh fuck off, I’m not in the mood for a little Peter Parker guilt trip.”

“Y/N I’m serious. I trusted you with my biggest secret in my entire life. If those pages say my name on them, I think I have a right to know.”

“You know what Peter no you don’t. If I went into your room and looked at your diary and decided to read it because it said my name in there, does that make it ok?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the ground. The both of you went quiet again, you continued to clean.

“It’s a journal.”

“Thanks for the clarification.”

“And for the record, it does say your name. A lot.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to force you to let me read it.” The room went quiet again, only this time you knew it was because he was thinking of a smart-ass comeback.

“So you keep pictures and things from your mom in a box with letters from your summer fling at writing camp and pages with my name on them? How am I supposed to react to- “

You turned around and grabbed the pages and slammed them on the bed.

“Take them. Just fucking read them already, just don’t say I wasn’t trying to save our friendship.”

You picked up the trash bag full of old school supplies and walked out to your kitchen to throw it away. You grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and sat at your dinner table. You always thought about if Peter would ever read everything you wrote about and for him at camp, but you didn’t want it to happen like this. It was your senior year and you didn’t want to lose your best friend or risk tearing apart your friend group. You sat for a few minutes before grabbing the bag of your new school supplies and walking into your room. He was sitting on your bed holding a medium sized notebook. He pat the empty space on your bed next to him. You set down your school supplies and sat next to him. He put the notebook in your hands.

“Every page with the folded corner is about you.”

There were a lot of pages with folded corners. He watched as you read a few. The first few were about how much Liz complained every time he brought you up. The one that caught your attention was about the day they broke up, it said she yelled at him that if he was in love with you to just dump her…so he did. The next few were about MJ and how she would be suspicious every time he brought you up, but not suspicious of you. The page that talked about their breakup, MJ straight up told him that he had a very obvious crush on you and that he should’ve spent his time pursuing you instead of her. Finally, the most recent pages were about conversations about you to Tony and Pepper and how much they liked all liked you. A few pages were about how all this time you spent together just kept making it clearer to him that he was in love with you, but he was too afraid to say anything at this point because you never dropped any hints that you liked him. You closed the notebook and looked up at him.

“Peter I- “

He gave you a quick kiss on the lips, warm but innocent.

“I’m sorry I just have been waiting forever to do that.”

You smiled at him and connected one of your hands to his cheek.

“If I want to ask you to be my boyfriend do I have to get approval from Tony Stark?”

He threw his head back in laughter, quickly holding your hand that was on his cheek with both hands.

“I hate you!”

You turned to face him a little more.

“It’s our senior year. You do realize after this year the both of of might not even be in the same state anymore?”

He turned his whole body to face you and grabbed both of your hands.

“I knew you were the one since you hit that girl with a wooden block in kindergarten because she called me yucky for being your friend who was a boy.”

You laughed.

“I was in love with you when we lived in the apartments next to each other, even if you’re on the other side of the country I’ll still be in love with you.”

You smiled and gave him another quick peck on the lips.

“Wait so did you say yes to being my boyfriend or?”

“Yes you headache of a woman.”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” you said intertwining your fingers.

“So Ned and MJ?”

“We can’t tell them Pete.”

“What! Why?!”

“Ned and MJ are the number one people who can’t deal with change! If we tell them on the first day of our fucking senior year that we’re dating, they’ll have a fucking stroke.”

Peter sat and thought about it for a second.

“Maybe I should tell them about Spidey first?”

Your eyes lit up.

“Yes! Oh yes please! I’m tired of not being able to talk about it whenever they bring up ‘The Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman’ everyday. Please please please Peter!”

“Okay okay. We’ll give them time to adjust to that then we’ll tell them about us.”

“Hey I hid my feelings for you for years, this is a piece of cake. Plus, that makes it even more our thing. They wont be suspicious of our Thursday pizza nights or our Monday movie nights because we’ve been doing them for years, only now we get to do them as a couple.”

He laid back onto the bed and pulled you into his side. Suddenly the front door opened.

“Hey I’m home Y/N!”

The two of you jumped up, you grabbed his stuff and shoved him into your closet. Just as you shut the closet door your dad opened your bedroom door.

“Hey dad! How was work?” you said trying to casually lean against the closet door.

“Good! All ready and set for tomorrow?”

You nodded and pointed around the room.

“Yeah, I wanted to clean up before embarking on my last year of highschool.”

“My baby girl is getting big!” he said walking over to you and pulling you into a big hug.

“Dad!”

“I know, but you know how much I love you. And now because of Tony Stark you can spread your wings and fly anywhere.”

“But I’ll always come back for you,” you said smiling at him.

“That’s my girl. Don’t go to sleep too late, I’m off to bed,” he said kissing the top of your head.

“Goodnight dad,” you said closing the door as he left.

You opened the closet door and put your finger up to your lips, signaling to Peter to be quiet as possible. You heard the doorknob turn and Peter quickly got under your bed.

“Did you eat?”

You turned around and tried to cover any lingering view of Peter.

“Yeah! Ms. Dolores next door made burritos and she brought over two. There’s one in the fridge for you.”

“Heck yeah! She makes the best burritos. Okay night honey,” he said closing the door behind him. You quickly opened the window for Peter and he got onto the fire escape. He pulled off his mask just high enough to give you one last kiss.

“Text me when you get home please,” you whispered to him.

“I will. Sweet dreams babe,” he said giving you a quick kiss on your forehead.

You smiled and watched as he webbed his way home. You quickly changed into your pj’s and got into bed. You could swear the smile on your face was going to be there permanently.

Taglist: @tomsspideysenses @spideycentral-1 @kalteneckr @skelkitt @tom-hollands-eyelash @colourful-fandoms-ruined-my-blog @hollandlovely @serpent-tea @lemirabitur @empressjoy @ironspiderguy @jujurandy @bluelalal @shamelessbookaddict @parkerswebhead @elentiya02 @coffeenstudies @queenlalybug

[ayearofpike]

Falling

Tom Doherty Associates, 2007 402 pages, 24 chapters ISBN 978-0-7653-5644-4 LOC: PS3566.I486 F35 2007 OCLC: 73502344 Released March 6, 2007 (per B&N)

Matt Connor has been wronged by the girl he loves. Kelly Fienman has been wronged by the suspect she’s stalking. They’re both out for vengeance, but while Matt is upfront and honest about the stunt he plans to pull, he isn’t really honest with himself about what he actually wants to get — and for her part, Kelly pretends that her need for justice is both moral and absent. When their paths inevitably cross, they’re left with several huge questions: what is right? what is good? do these things intersect? is it OK if they don’t?

(Thanksgiving and a child’s birthday were NOT conducive to A Year of Pike, gang. Let’s see if I can pick it back up here in December.)

I remembered being really happy with this book the first time I read it. Like, OK, Pike is taking it easy on the kidlit, having maybe resigned himself to the understanding that his style no longer fits with popular expectations. Plus, this came probably three years after I’d read a recent predecessor, and a solid five years after I’d BOUGHT one  — I got Alosha and The Shaktra out of the library, never read The Yanti until just now, and then I saw Falling at a bookstore sometime in 2008. I read it and I loved it: so unexpected, such power, what a shift in tone and characters, what a strong and solid cliffhanger ending — literally! Surely there exists some kind of excited blog record of me finding this, so long after I’d decided Pike wasn’t for me anymore. After spending entirely too long trawling the depths of my LiveJournal, though, I can’t find one.

And the reread? Eh. As it turned out, I didn’t actually remember very much about this book. Parts of it want to be The Silence of the Lambs (and Pike even nods to that) but it doesn’t have the same power. The rest? So much speculation and estimation left up to the reader to really understand this closed-book antagonist, who is actually quite selfish but we don’t get her perspective. She doesn’t even monologue when she has our hero at literally the end of his rope. And the powerful scene at the end? More like a trickle to a halt, made even weaker by the unnecessary intercutting to the other character’s perspective as she oversees the end of her antagonist’s life. We’ll get there. I don’t know. Maybe I was so excited to get this, and to have a book where a baby’s life and future hangs in the balance right around the same time I was raising my own baby as a new at-home parent, that I overlooked another one of Pike’s letdown endings.

I forgot to talk in the last post about the ISBN shifting to 13 digits. This started in 2007: all new books would have a code that better matched up with international book listing codes. These last two have had both an ISBN-10 and an ISBN-13, I assume because he had both of them slated prior to the change, but I’ve decided to just list the newer code for simplicity’s sake. You can do more research if you feel like it, or even convert back and forth between ISBN-10 and 13. It doesn’t really affect my blog, but it’s a change and I wanted to mention it.

So Falling. It actually could have been a pretty straightforward story, with much of the bulk of the book spent exploring the mental attitudes involved in what it takes to go beyond the law, commit some kind of horrific deed that most people couldn’t imagine. The real problem with this story is that it tries to cram too much into it, and the one crime is so vile and base that it renders our antihero’s misdeed into almost seeming unimportant. But it’s not — Matt’s actions are horrible and indefensible, especially as we don’t actually get his villain’s perspective, no matter what someone else did that was totally gross. (I am so a parent: “I don’t care what Tommy did, you are not to act that way.”)

What the hell does Matt actually do? This is where Falling is good: it keeps us in suspense for the first good quarter of the book as we try to understand his plan and how it’s going to adversely affect the girl. Because of course his object of vengeance is a girl — the one who just dumped him, actually. She didn’t “just dump him,” though; she strung him along as “the only one” while she was still in contact with her rich “ex,” who she is now married to and has an unborn child with, a child that could only have been conceived while Matt was still seeing her. And it’s not his, it can’t be his, because she never let him stick it in. So Matt is going to fake his own death by crashing a personal aircraft in the depths of the Pacific Ocean. Meanwhile, he will parachute to a waiting boat, anchored in a shallower area, and assume a new identity until he can carry out the second part of his plan: kidnap the baby, months later, after everyone has forgotten his involvement with the woman.

Kelly is one of the FBI agents assigned to the kidnapping case. She’s actually just back on the job after a tragic and devastating incident with a previous suspect that has taken out a good chunk of her GI system. And this is where Falling has problems: this second story, totally unrelated to and unnecessary for understanding Matt’s motivations, is clung to and pushed on us constantly through the whole book, even as it threatens to be a more engaging tale of horrific glee. Like, I get why Pike didn’t just write this one (out of concerns of being accused of ripping off Thomas Harris) but this is really TWO suspense stories, and he hasn’t properly fleshed out the tale of Kelly and the Sex Murderin’ English Teacher.

Because that’s what’s happened: three-four months before the kidnapping, she gets pulled into an investigation on a dude who has made videos of himself having extremely consensual sex with rich women, tying them to the beds, confronting them about their obvious infidelity to their rich husbands, and then killing them by pouring corrosive acid on (and then INTO) their chests. She has a Ph.D in mythology and literature, which they need because the dude is throwin’ out all sorts of esoteric references and they think that knowing them will help them track him down. Of course, Kelly has gone into FBI work because she wants to be a hero, and so she breaks like EVERY protocol in investigating the trail of these obscure Asian myths back to either Ohio State or Ohio University, depending on which page you look at. (Does Pike know there’s a difference?) All the evidence points to a doctoral student, but it’s been manipulated that way by his faculty advisor, who is doing the sex murders because he caught his wife cheating with the dude. And now he’s going to kill Kelly the same way, only he hasn’t counted on her being a totally buff FBI agent who actually MOVES THE ENTIRE BED SHE’S TIED TO and makes the acid splash on the ropes, which she can now break to get at her gun and cap the fucker in the back of the neck. Of course, the acid has also splashed on her stomach and eaten into her organs, hence the GI problems. And also her husband is pissed that she went to such crazy lengths and endangered herself, to the point where if she goes back to the FBI he’s not willing to hang around and watch her kill herself. So he moves out and takes their young daughter with him.

I KNOW. This is a WAY more fuckin’ interesting story than oh, boo hoo, she was stringing me along so I’m gonna kidnap her baby. It’s too bad that he drags this shit out and doesn’t give it more consideration. But as with so much literature, we gotta accept the tragic male antihero versus the strong female agent who is still trying to figure out the boundaries of her moral code.

Yeah, there’s still more story. Matt hires a nanny under the table to help take care of the baby, and she thinks they look alike. You hear this all the time as a parent, even if your kid looks NOTHING like you — but Matt’s curious, so he does a mail-away DNA test and it comes back unquestionably that he’s actually the father. So now he knows he can’t just bail on the kid like he was planning, but he needs money to raise him. So he sets up an intricate ransom for his ex and her husband, who has money (of course he has money; why do you think she married him?). Matt makes the dude put $3 million in cash and jewels into a bag, then chase all over metro LA until he finally ends up taking a boat out to Catalina Island. But halfway there, he instructs the husband to load the dough into a weighted box and throw it overboard. Because of course Matt is a scuba diver — this is a Pike book, after all. He retrieves the money and then uses a personal propeller to zip off underwater. And the FBI, which was so prepared for an island drop or a boat handoff, is caught with their pants all the way down.

Of course Kelly is furious, but also curious. She remembers seeing a picture of Matt in the woman’s desk, and asks about the circumstances of his death. It seems that the day Matt’s plane crashed, he had been on Catalina — finishing up his scuba certification. So now Kelly has connected the dots, in a way only a Pike heroine can, but she can’t imagine where to find the dude. But she knows someone who can: a certain Sex Murderin’ English Teacher, who is still alive but paralyzed from the neck down, who knows better than anyone Kelly knows how a twisted male mind works. He grasps the intricacies of the situation immediately and advises Kelly to follow the woman, because there’s no way she’s unaware.

Kelly doesn’t believe it, but sure enough the chick leads her directly to Matt and the baby, set up in a fancy apartment not even that far from the rich husband’s house. It seems that Matt felt like he had all the leverage he needed to get the girl back, now that he had the baby and some money. But it’s not enough — she knows that the dude isn’t ever going to let her just go, and that the only way to be totally free to be back with Matt is if they kill her husband. So Matt, against his better judgment, starts coming up with a plan to murder a dude: drive his boat to Catalina, get him super drunk, and then push him overboard on the way back. The girl, weirdly, insists that Matt has to be on board and actually do the pushing. Which makes Kelly, listening in on her bugs planted in the apartment, start to think that maybe she’s the actual monster, even though Matt has faked his own death and then kidnapped her son. So she affects her own secret identity and moves into the complex to get closer to the situation but also to try to keep Matt from doing something he’ll regret.

Matt actually has no intention of killing the husband. His plan was pretty much always to tag along on the boat and then get the girl to fake her OWN death, and then they can be free and alone and untraceable. But but but, the girl objects, if she is dead and not the husband, then she won’t be heir to all his money! But Matt flatly refuses to push the dude. So she goes ahead and does it. Unlucky for her, they’re being tailed by — who else? — Kelly the Hero, who now has enough circumstantial evidence to arrest the woman for murder. Her father-in-law bails her out of jail, raising more weird questions, and then she manages to convince Matt to help her jump bail and escape with all her worldly possessions. They make it to Utah the first night, but the ten minutes Matt runs out to buy diapers and formula is long enough for a dude to bust in and tie his girl to the bed and be looming over her with a beaker full of acid when he gets back.

Holy shit, right? By now Matt knows who Kelly is and has gotten her backstory, and he knows that she’s willing to let him slide on the whole kidnap kerfuffle, so he calls her with this weird coincidence. But there’s no way it could be SMET, who is totally paralyzed! But Kelly now fears for HIS ex-wife’s life, and flies back to Ohio to do another check on this whole twisted clan. The best thing she can think of is to do a home stakeout with the lady and her new man, the grad student she was cheating with. Only — uh-oh — turns out the dude is in cahoots with SMET the whole time! His whole life, in fact: Cheatin’ Grad Student is SMET’s little brother! Their mother was also a cheater, and died of complications from their dad pushing her down the stairs after he found out. But wait! It seems that SMET actually did the killing, replacing her cardiac epinephrine shot with vinegar, so when she seized in her hospital bed it was the attempt to save her that killed her. Please note: SMET did this as a motherfucking TEN YEAR OLD. From there, he realized the thrill of destroying loose women and employed his little brother in helping to deface and dispose of the bodies.

So it only follows that he’d employ the dude to lure his wife, and was devastated when she bit, and that has turned into more killin’. In fact, it was CGS who was in Utah the night before, on his brother’s orders, ready to take down another terrible, cheating, murdering, bail-jumping lady. But this kid is even more debased than his brother, and is just going to rape and dismember Kelly while his new bae is knocked out from drugs in her dinner. Luckily she has her own syringe of cardiac vinegar, uncovered in her prior search of the dad’s house, and she manages to stab it into CGS’s heart just in the nick of time.

What’s up with Matt and the On-the-Lam Family? No big, they’re just doing some leisurely rock climbing now that they’re free from dead rich husbands or acid murderers. This, it turns out, is Matt’s one final big test to his girl’s fidelity — and she fails big time, cutting his rope and leaving him stranded on the edge of a cliff while he’s rappelling. But Matt’s been here before, because he’s an experienced and expert rock climber (because what the FUCK ELSE can this asshole be good at), and he manages to free-climb up the side of the cliff and catch his girl as she’s packing up the car. So now it’s her turn to be stuck on a cliff ledge, until he can get to a pay phone and call the cops on her for jumping bail. And we’re all like, good god, dude, it took you fuckin’ well long enough.

Of course we can’t just be done, right? Kelly has a sex murderin’ English teacher to revenge. She makes it look like a suicide, unscrewing part of his wheelchair and scraping his wrist veins against it so he bleeds out. But before he goes, he wants to talk to Matt, because they’re not so different, and he’d like to congratulate a fellow charismatic criminal for getting away with his misdeeds. And then he dies, and Kelly swears off FBI work so that maybe she can go back to her family and actually appreciate it and be appreciated by them.

Um ... what? But yeah, that’s the end of Falling. Either one of these stories would have been better served by itself, unless he could have given us Kelly’s necessary backstory in the beginning rather than trying to make everything happen at the same time. It comes across as excessive and unnecessary, and makes the ending fall flat. And when you have a blah ending, it doesn’t matter how vibrant the characters have been, or how real and horrific their struggles, or how much you sympathized with them throughout the narrative. All you remember is the “um ... what?”

[the-art-pile]

Jack the Mum

Ships: Freewood & Geoff/Fem!Jack

Word Count: 3,052

Prompt: How Jack mothers the crew (at least her form of mothering)

Disclaimer: I used to write a lot on Wattpad, but kinda fell out of that. I decided to start back up again, so bear with me, this is most likely awful. The characters are very oc, but I tried my best. 

AO3

<3

Jack didn’t mean to become the crew’s mom. She really didn’t. For years she’d been a lone wolf. Robbing small stores and becoming dust in the wind before the cops even arrived at the scene. It was her signature. They speculated that she had a partner that drove her, but it was all her. It was her life. Rob a store or two during the week and on the weekends attend the races and occasionally attend her piloting class. That was her dream job. To be able to fly a helicopter to safety. And she achieved it, just not by herself.

Geoff waltzed into her life and never left. The one time she decided to challenge herself and rob something bigger than a convenience store, and of course, it went to shit. With a bullet in her side, she limps down an alley and curls up next to a dumpster. She checks her clip and sighs. One bullet left, better make it count.

“You okay?”

Immediately the gun goes up, right into the face of the man that had somehow crouched over her without her noticing. He didn’t flinch at the fact a Beretta was a millimeter away from his face. Just glanced at it then down to her wound that was still sluggishly bleeding. The man’s eyes then drift to the entrance of the alley and harden at whatever he sees.

“Keep quiet, I’ll help you move. My car is just at the other end.”

Jack’s mind wasn’t processing stuff clearly anymore, the blood loss finally catching up with her. She does remember thinking to fuck it all and nod yes. Geoff would later claim it was love at first sight, Jack always calls bullshit but with the happiest smile on her face.

The first instance of Jack’s motherly instinct cropping up was two years into her and Geoff’s criminal partnership (and four months into their romantic relationship as Geoff likes to point out). They weren’t robbing, mugging, killing, or even training. They were out shopping. Legitimately shopping. They had just moved into a bigger and better apartment than their previous one and needed to get furniture and food. Geoff had walked a bit away from her to go admire a car that had recently parked near the market.

When Jack turned back to him to call him over, she spotted someone sneaking towards him. She starts approaching to hopefully intervene should Geoff need backup, but instead watches in fascination as what she can now see is a teen sneak up to Geoff and nick his wallet. Geoff makes no move to retrieve it, meaning that he hadn’t noticed. The kid turns to try to get away and that’s when she moves in. Her hand clamps down on the teen’s shoulder and he immediately freezes, breath turning rapid and panicked instantly.

“Shh, sweetie. I won’t hurt you.”

The kid’s muscles slightly relax, but not enough to make Jack satisfied. She turns him around to Geoff and taps on him to get his attention. He whips around and stares at them.

“Trouble?”

“Nope, just need to have a talk with him.”

The boy’s breathing picks up again and Jack swears he whimpers.

“Cars’ around the corner. Let’s go kid.”

“First, hand it back please sweetie.”

With a shaking hand, the boy holds up Geoff’s wallet. He accepts it with nothing more than wide eyes and a raised eyebrow. They start walking then, the kid not fighting at all. The minute they make it to the side alley they had stored the car in, Geoff slams the kid against the wall. His cry of fear makes Jack’s heartache.

“Listen here you little shit.”

“Geoff…”

Geoff turns to her and sees her face, and loosens his hold on the boy. She steps up and pulls the now-crying boy into her arms, rubbing his back.

“Geoff, honey. Could we?”

His hands drag down his face in exasperation before sighing and kissing her cheek.

“You get to house train him… What’s your name?”

“G-gavin.”

Once Gavin had gotten comfortable around them, they couldn’t get him to shut up. They knew everything about his past. His friends, bullies, how he made it to Los Santos, everything. His talents lied in that of hacking, thievery, and fucking talking. Which was good. He filled spots that Geoff and her needed, so they started growing their operation. Geoff loosened up and they became a little family. Jack and Geoff more often than not referring to Gavin as their son, and they were content with that.

~

Jack’s second encounter came as an unexpected event. Geoff and her had been having a lazy day, cuddling and watching movies. The door to the apartment slams open, but neither of them moves, as Gavin never failed to slam it when he got home.

What made them move though was the chilling fact that Gavin happened in front of them, covered in blood. Jack is immediately on her feet and checking him over for any injuries.

“Gav? What’s wrong, sweetie? Where are you hurt?”

“Not me. Um… I made a friend a few months ago?… He needs help.”

“YOU GO TO THE HOSPITAL THEN GAV!”

“We, um, can’t?”

“What did you do?”

“Not now Geoff. Gavin, sweetie, let’s go get your friend. I can patch him up.”

Gavin leads us to the parking garage and a car riddled with bullet holes draws their attention. The groaning coming from within is not subtle at all.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!”

“Geoff. Not. Now.”

Gavin opens the door, and a curly haired lad practically falls out the door. With a lot of effort as the guy is practically unconscious, they pull him back up to the apartment and lay him on the couch.

“Gavin, grab the first aid kit, then go wash up. Geoff, can you grab some towels?”

The two split to complete the given tasks, and Jack starts playing with the hair of the boy as she checks his injuries. The lad groans, lifts his head, and blearily looks around.

“Fucking shit. Where the hell am I?! Fuck!”

“Gavin brought you to our apartment.”

He relaxes back into Jack’s touch, groaning in pain the whole time.

“Fucking great, Gav. Bring me to your fucking parent’s house. Good fucking job, idiot.”

“If you’re worried about us turning you in, it’s not happening as it would get ourselves arrested as well.”

“I fucking know who you are. I told the idiot I’d be fucking fine.”

“Bleeding out on our sofa is not something I’d say is fine.”

Gavin appears then with the aforementioned first aid kit.

“Mico, my boi!”

“Fucking told you I was fine Gav! This is just fucking embarrassing now.”

“They’ll help. They’ll only be mad about how it happened, but then get over it.”

“We’ll see about that Gavin,” Geoff grumbles as he walks back in with a pile of towels, “Now can I ask what the hell happened?”

“We may have…”

“Speak up!”

“WE SET OFF A GRENADE AND IT BLEW UP NEXT TO US!”

“HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GET A GRENADE!?”

“It’s what I fucking do. GOD DAMN IT THAT HURTS! I get about anything that goes boom.”

“WHAT THE FUCK GAVIN?!”

“WHAT?! You said I needed to make some friends and I did!”

“Fuckin’-”

“Geoff, we’ll deal with this later, help me pull out this shrapnel. How have you not passed out?”

“Got a fucking high pain tolerance. Been shocked by a taser before.”

“Fucking Gavin, where’d you find this kid.”

“I’m older than Gavin actually.”

“Shut up. Gavin. Talk now.”

“Met at the range and got talking. Joined him a few times to test out the explosives he gets.”

“How do you get them?”

“GEOFF! SHRAPNEL!”

Twenty minutes later, Gavin’s friend, high on pain medication, is mumbling incoherently on the couch. Geoff pulls Jack onto his lap and buries his face in her shoulder blades.

“From the top Gavin. Name first”

“Michael. As I said, met at the shooting range, and started hanging out. Then he showed me his collection of stuff, and I thought he’d be cool to have on jobs. Kinda forgot about it though, cause we were having fun.”

“Gavin…”

“What?! I thought it would be good! He gets a steady stream of sticky bombs and grenades. He can even get a rocket launcher!”

Geoff sighs heavily into Jack’s back and nestles closer.

“Fucking hell. When he wakes up we’ll talk to him.”

~

Jeremy surprised them all. He just showed up at the penthouse one day asking for a job. Once they pulled Michael’s gun out of his face, they sat him down and talked. It turned out that he had been following the crew as long as possible. He had pieced together a pattern and had even found some of the crimes they had committed when they were all solo, even Gavin’s petty pickpockets.

They quickly learned that Jeremy had no sense of self-preservation. Ask him to run across a shootout? He’ll do it in a heartbeat. Ramp off some stairs. Not even a second thought about it. At first, it was harmless little things, but Jeremy couldn’t distinguish between jokes and actual requests.

After multiple broken bones, concussions, and internal bleeding incidents, Jack finally set the purple and orange-clad man down for a chat.

“Jeremy you can’t keep doing this.”

“But, but they asked me too.”

“Oh, sweetheart. They don’t mean half of those. They’re just jokes.”

The cowboy hat hits the table as Jeremy lays his head down.

“I just want them to like me.”

“Dear, They already like you. You don’t have to nearly kill yourself to get their affection.”

Jack pulls Jeremy to her and threads her fingers through the purple portion of his hair. The sit in silence for a bit as Jack lets Jeremy soak up that information.

“You all do such cool things, and I’m just there. I… I just want to be known, I guess.”

“Jeremy. You dress in purple and orange. The media calls you Rimmy Tim since you scream it all the time. Most of us don’t have that. I’m known as Ramsey’s second. That’s all. The only people that give us nicknames are the other gangs, and they are mostly just to mess with us. You have a brand. Hell, we don’t tell you about all the offers you receive from companies that want to merchandise you because that’s how you get caught, we aren’t like Saint’s Row, and there’s too fucking many. You’re almost as well known as the fucking Vagabond. You are Rimmy fucking Tim and we all love you.”

“Mum’s often right Lil J.”

Gavin, Michael, and Geoff walk in from waiting in the doorway. A cuddle puddle quickly forms and everyone snuggles in.

“We were just joking around J, we didn’t want you to actually do those things. Gav likes to ask hypothetical questions.”

“Yeah J, we didn’t want you to actually get hurt.”

“I guess I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to stress you guys out.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for Jeremy. We should have intervened sooner.”

Someone shifts and suddenly the once sitting cuddle puddle is laying on the ground, all on top of Gavin. The other four break apart in laughter while Gavin flails and screeches.

~

The fourth time, Jack saw coming from a mile away. They knew it would happen eventually, but that still didn’t prepare them. With the crew working full time and becoming more infamous throughout the city, they knew they needed to call in more muscle. They had all the specialist they needed, but they significantly lacked in anyone that could bring the intimidation factor.

Geoff put out some feelers into the community, but so far they haven’t received a solid offer from anyone yet. As the number of days grew, the more anxious the crew became. Finally, Gavin presents the solution.

“I may know someone that could fill the position.”

Gavin had pulled Jack and Geoff into one of the conference rooms. He paces around the room as he talks, hands occasionally pulling at his hair. Jack intercepts him and sets him in a chair.

“Who, sweetheart?”

“You can’t hate me.”

“We have never hated you, Gav. Been annoyed or disappointed, but we still love you.”

Gavin takes a deep breath before seeming to steel himself against whatever he thinks their reaction will be.

“I can get us the Vagabond.”

Geoff’s reaction is immediate. More worried than angry pacing as the name registers with them.

“What do you mean Gavin? The Vagabond is a fucking nightmare. He only takes contracts, we need a full-time person, and there’s no way he’ll ever accept our offer. Plus, I heard he’s actually insane. That it’s just not an act,” Geoff turns and points a finger accusingly at Gavin, “How do you know him? What did you do?!”

“I didn’t do anything! Ryan is slightly insane, but aren’t we all!?! I said I can get him to join and I will! Have a little faith, Geoff!”

Geoff and Gavin start bickering back and forth, while Jack keeps Gavin seated in the chair by playing with his hair. She ponders over everything before something strikes her as odd.

“Gavin?” Both men quit down to listen as Jack speaks, “Is Ryan the Vagabond’s name?”

Gavin’s face instantly pales and he looks like he wants to throw up. Geoff starts on a whole new tirade of how he’s taking away Gavin’s computer because A: he should know better than to spy on the Vagabond and B: they’re all going to die because Gavin knows who the Vagabond is.

“HE’S MY BOYFRIEND, OKAY?!? THE VAGABOND AND I ARE FUCKING!”

The room quiets and you can hear a quiet “holy shit” from outside the door, followed by not so quiet shushing. Geoff plops heavily into his chair and is practically hyperventilating. Jack raises an eyebrow at his partner’s odd behavior.

“You’re terrified of the Vagabond, aren’t you? Big ol’ King Pin Ramsey is scared of a mercenary.”

Geoff tries to glare but just returns to his silent panic. Jack chuckles at his behavior.

“Gavin, sweetie, invite him over for dinner tonight.”

Geoff nearly has a heart attack.

-Time Skip-

The silence over the table is entirely awkward. Geoff has retreated somewhere in his mind, his parenting skills utterly shutting down, leaving it all to Jack. Figures.

“How long have you been together?”

“I met Ry about two years ago on that job out in Liberty City. He witnessed that deal go sour and helped me get out. We’ve kept in touch after that, then he said he was moving to Los Santos, so I, uh, offered my apartment to him, and yeah…”

Gavin’s nervous rambling slows when Ryan settles his hand over Gavin’s. The comforting gesture of a swiping thumb obvious to everyone at the table. Jack nudges Geoff, attempting to get him to do the whole, hurt him and I’ll hurt you speech, but he’s adamantly refusing. With a sigh, Jack pulls her gun out from under the table and points it at Ryan.

Surprisingly, he makes no move to react, even as Gavin squawks and complains beside him. Interested, Jack pulls out her second pistol, aiming them both at the mercenary. Again, no reaction.

“So this is your typical I’ll kill you thing. If Gavin ever comes home crying because of something you did, trust me when I say this. I will hunt you down, and I will kill you. It won’t be quick or painless.”

“Understood, Ma'am. I wouldn’t dream of hurting Gavin, and I respect your actions. You are wonderful parents.”

“Aw, Rye-bread. Don’t butter my parents up.”

“If I want a future with you, I have to show them I’m serious.”

Geoff promptly passes out.

~

They’re a unit. A family. It’s the characteristic that sets their crew apart from all the others. In-crew fighting is mainly about who’s turn it is to pick a movie or who’s been hogging one of the cars. It works for them and it makes them a cohesive force.

It’s also one of their weaknesses. All the other gangs of Los Santos knows that if you take one of the main boys, a she-devil in a chopper will appear and obliterate you. Kidnap the boy of gold and face Death himself. Steal any of them and you will regret the day you were born.

The crew spends nearly half of their resources on rescue missions as the other gangs just can’t get it through their heads that you don’t mess with the Fake AH Crew.

When Jack gets taken, the crew admittedly panics. Jack’s been taken before, but they can’t find her now. They’ve gone through all the gangs, swept every camera, drove everywhere, and they still can’t find her. Gavin can’t stop crying, Geoff’s gone silent and the rest are shells of the former personalities they were.

They keep searching and finally, a clue comes from a branch of their organization. A transport had been spotted going into a building near the airfield and the gang running it was unknown. The crew jumped into action, vengeance coursing through their bloodstreams.

Meanwhile, Jack is trying to talk some sense into the idiotic leader of this new gang. They’re new in town and thought they could easily take over by hitting the biggest crew. The punches don’t stop her from talking.

“I’m warning you now. Once they get here, you are going to regret it. Kiss everything you have goodbye.”

The enforcer looming over her simply laughs and aims a punch right fo her jaw. She hears the crack before she feels it, and spits out blood as best she can. Her ears are ringing now and stars are clouding her vision. The man pulls his hand back to get another strike in when an explosion rocks the building. The bewildered man stumbles back from Jack as she lets out a maniacal peal of laughter.

“I told you. I told you and you didn’t listen.”

The door breaks down and Jack watches as Ryan swoops and breaks the guy’s neck with no hesitation. Gavin divebombs Jack.

“MUM!”

The rest of them slowly trickle into the room and eventually, everyone is pulled into the group hug.

“Let’s go home, please.”

[stunudo]

Natural Minds Pay Back

A Crossover Fan-fiction

Featuring: Criminal Minds and Supernatural

Setting: Season 9 (both shows)

Before Slumber Party for SPN and In the Blood for Criminal Minds

Welcome to Stu’s 400 follower celebration fic! I can’t believe so many of you are willing to have my writings on your dashboards! Thank you ever so much. This is the fourth installment of the Winchesters working with Dr. Spencer Reid. (1. NM Meet       2. NM Chat     3. NM Bunkered) This turned out to be longish, I just felt it needed more scenes. Enjoy! xoxo Stu

“I have striven not to laugh at human actions, not to weep at them, nor to hate them, but to understand them.” - Baruch Spinoza

Immediately after Bunkered

Spencer Reid hated being late to a case, especially since he missed the pre-flight briefing and speculating on the jet with his team. He took a cab to the local precinct and found Rossi setting up the evidence boards, because Hotch was still recovering.

“Here he is folks,” Dave teased. “Good, now you get to play with your maps.”

“Rossi, what’s going on? Garcia didn’t share much on the phone.” Spencer set down his messenger bag and tucked his go-bag beneath the conference table. As Rossi began to point and describe the victims, Spencer listened growing more and more concerned with their timing.

“If this is the fourth victim, why did they wait until now to call us in?” Spencer was sorting through the crime scene photos.

“That’s just it kid, they said they already talked to the FBI. That they were waiting for a partner to aid in the investigation. But as far as I or Garcia can tell, no one at the Memphis field office or anywhere else has been notified.”

The pit in Spencer’s stomach grew, threatening to consume with him with guilt. This sounded exactly like the case he had left to confront Dean about, but this time there were no liquefied organs, no burned eyes. This case may be on a hunter’s radar, but there was nothing monstrous or mystical about it. Along with Rossi, Spencer started building the profile while Morgan and JJ handled the questioning of families and Blake took the M.E.

After Rossi left to grab coffee and a quick meal, Spencer called Dean, avoiding the bustling precinct’s officers. The phone went to voicemail after three rings, Spencer swore underneath his breath.

“Dean, I don’t know how many hunters there are, but it sounds like one of your people got here before my team did. If you have any way of contacting them, please, tell them to back off. I don’t know everything in way of the Occult, but I know unsubs and this is definitely human. Call me back.”

The Winchesters had stopped at a Gas N Sip to change into their matching black suits. After meeting Spencer and some of his coworkers, Dean wasn’t sure why they bothered with the idea that Feds were to look like cookie cutters. Especially since Sam refused to ever cut his hair. Pulling up to the latest crime scene, the Impala’s engine idled as they scoped the increased presence of officers and techs.

“Looks like it’s gotten more attention than the neighborhood watch, Dean.” Sam muttered annoyed.

“Four bodies in a week will do that. Well, let’s find out what we can and head over to the corner after lunch.”

“We have definitely been doing this too long if we see no issue with that idea.” Sam smirked, unfurling his long limbs from the classic car.

“Smile, Sammy, looks like we have company.” Dean nodded towards to two agents in much less formal clothing asking questions of the neighbors to the south. “Dibs on the blonde. You get baldy.”

Sam tisked and rolled his eyes, but let his brother have this one. He had already spotted the ring on the attractive woman’s hand. Who was he to refuse his brother the embarrassment?

“Agents, about time you got here, we’re from the local field office.” Dean boisterously called.

“I’m Agent Petty and this is Agent Nicks.” Sam explained, flashing his false credentials. Dean took a double take as he realized Sam had given him a girl’s last name for the case, it was his turn to roll his eyes.

“Morgan and Jareau, we’re with the BAU out of Quantico. Where’ve you guys been?”

“Just wrapping up with the last family, sorry we couldn’t meet you before you headed out.” Dean improvised, his gruff voice deepening notably. Sam almost laughed, this buff Agent was challenging Dean’s masculinity and both he and the blonde knew it.

“It’s okay, Freckles, our team can catch you up back at the precinct with Detective Cutts.” Jareau teased.

“Excuse me, did you say the BAU?” Sam followed Morgan and Jareau to their waiting SUV.

“Yeah, we’re here to profile this unsub so you all can finally do your jobs and arrest him.” The African American guy was short with them.

“That’s not the same Behavioral Analysis Unit as Dr. Spencer Reid is it?”

“Wait, you guys know Spence?” Jareau looked honestly confused.

Sam and Dean shared a knowing look, “You might say that.”

“The bodies had been staged to appear ritualized, but nothing adds up to any known religions or pagan practices.” Blake explained to the rest of the team.

“Were they completely drained?” Spencer looked up from the copies of the reports she had handed out.

“Yes, but not until after they were killed, all of the neck wounds were postmortem.”

“This guy isn’t slowing down, once he gets a victim he only holds on to them for a day, two tops.” Rossi pointed out the urgency.

“Did you guys get anything from the local field office? We ran into a pair of agents at the last crime scene, said they had spoken with the second victim’s families this morning.” JJ asked.

“JJ, didn’t we tell them to follow us here?” Derek pointed out. “I don’t know how, but they knew who you were, Pretty Boy.”

Spencer had been checking his phone throughout the round table session. He nodded in distraction at the conversation happening around him. He grew more annoyed with being ignored by the moody Winchesters, especially after he helped Kevin with the tablet translations.

“Their old wheels probably broke down on the way here.” Derek joked. “Garcia, my sweet?” He asked into speaker phone.

“Can you patch us through to an Agent Petty or Agent Nicks out of Memphis?”

“Oh, sugar, you know your girl has all the connections... huh.” Garcia paused, “I’m not finding them, any chance there are in a different office?”

Spencer’s head finally shot up. “It’s alright, Garcia, I have their numbers.”

“You do?” All team member’s eyes were locked onto the distracted genius.

“So call them!” Rossi’s Italian temper was starting to show.

Sam and Dean sat at the sticky booth in the greasy diner waiting for T-bone, a friend or distant relative or someone Garth knew, to show up. He apparently had been in the area on a random haunting when he picked up the chatter on the murders. Lucky for this sophomore hunter, Garth sent in the Winchesters, because clearly he had been talking out of his ass to every cop on the case.

“Can you believe this guy?” Dean muttered, staring at the specials on the small plexi stand on the table.

“What? Somebody Garth knows runs his mouth too much?” Sam pointed out the obvious. “Yeah, Dean, pretty believable.”

The waitress came and took their orders and still no T-bone. Dean had checked his messages, a couple from Garth, one from Kevin and then the last and most recent from Dr. Spencer Reid himself.

“Well, that’s great. Spencer says there is nothing to worry about here.” Dean complained, before he wrapped his mouth securely around his double bacon cheeseburger. Sam sprinkled the dressing onto his salad and scrunched up his nose, nodding.

“I know this guy is smart, man. But, uh, do you think he is ready to make that call?” Sam began cutting his lettuce with the side of his fork.

Dean had taken another obscenely large bite and had to chew for a solid minute before he could answer his doubting younger brother. He took a long pull from the straw of his Coke and nodded. “Dude, this guy just helped Kevin translate Aramaic. He has worked cases with black magic rituals and survived ghost possession. He may not look like it, but Reid knows what he’s talking about.”

It was Sam’s turn to chew, he nodded. “Alright, if you say so.” They continued on enjoying the meal in silence and privacy. “Should we check at the hotel where T-bone was staying?”

“What other choice is there? Keep working the case with the feds?” Dean quipped.

The BAU had delivered the profile to the local police, the missing agents obvious to everyone in attendance. Rossi concluded, “Most likely the unsub has already tried to insert himself into the investigation. He is either posing as media or law enforcement, be diligent out there. And only share new details with your superiors or my team. Thank you.”

The team from Quantico regrouped once the officers were given their patrols. Detective Cutts was speaking with a thirty year old version of himself in a hurried whisper before returning to his office. JJ had approached Spencer before they were given new assignments.

“Any word yet on those friends of yours?” her inflection was not hard to profile. JJ didn’t trust the Winchesters and she shouldn’t, they were in fact committing fraud on a weekly basis, Spencer reminded himself. It was a truth he had added to a list of few areas too gray to judge, because he knew they were doing their best to protect people.

“Not yet, but Garcia got me their location. They are working out of a motel just off of I-40.”

“So they’re not local?” JJ stared Spencer down intently. “What’s their story, Spence?”

“JJ, I really should go before they get too far into this alone.” Spencer tried to rush from JJ’s interrogation and cold blue glare.

“If Hotch were here there is no way you would be running to protect some imposters, what is going on with you?!” JJ had grabbed his messenger bag before he could, holding it away from him like a little sister and his favorite toy.

“Very funny, JJ.” Spencer pursed his lips. “I am doing my job, keeping people safe and profiling unsubs.” She watched him, whatever she saw in his stubborn stance or calculating eyes was enough. JJ relented and handed her tall friend his bag back.

“Just, be careful.” JJ added in a low voice.

“See you later, JJ.”

Morgan had watched the exchange, JJ exhaled and gave him a look that spoke volumes. Something was off about their resident genius.

Spencer had been having the confrontation under his breath the entire time driving to the seedy motel where Dean’s latest fake credit card had been used to reserve a room. Penelope Garcia was a nervous mess that the case she had sent Reid on last weekend had snowballed into a real case three states away. Spencer didn’t have the patience to console her, but he thanked her for her help and ended it with a sly, “Alright, Garcia.”

The paint was peeling from the warped wooden door frames along the brick exterior as he walked towards room 9 at the far corner of the L shaped building. That is when he spotted her, well, it really. Dean always referred to his treasured automobile as “Baby’, so the confusing pronoun had lodged itself inside of Spencer’s mind. The trunk was propped open and a sturdy pair of denim clad legs were be visible from the sidewalk.

“You looking for me, Doc?” Dean’s grouchy baritone called out from the weapons’ chest that was his trunk.

“What are you doing working the case, Dean?”

The scruffy hunter didn’t answer immediately, he just closed up the duffel bag with assorted supplies for your garden variety hunt. Salt, salt rounds, holy water, spray paint for trapping demons and other sigils besides knives, handguns and silver bullets to be safe. “It seems to me, we got here the same way.” Dean tossed the bag in the back seat and slammed the door shut. His voice was low, he tugged at his bottom lip with his callused thumb and forefinger. “You got a call from your sparkly tech girl, whom you trust. We got a call from Garth, somebody we-- sort of trust. Saying that something I had already been eyeing, had gone south and we were needed here.”

“I left you a message to back off. This unsub is on a psychotic break, he doesn’t even know he is the one committing these murders, please. Let me and my team do our jobs.” Spencer’s voice cracked, Dean had never seen his eyes so certain, so confident before. Dean smiled gently, nodding in agreement.

“You may be right, Doc. But now I have a missing hunter to account for and that means we’re not done. Not done with your unsub or your case, because until we find T-bone, the Winchesters are consulting.” Spencer gave Dean the side-eye for a few beats until they both broke into mild amusement.

“Is this guy really named T-bone?” Spencer puckered his lips, the inaudible laughter shaking his thin frame.

“I don’t know, man, I guess.” Dean leaned against the small patch of bricks between the door and the window. “Right now, we’re heading to his hotel and then we’ll see where his recon led him.”

“We can help, Dean.” Spencer offered sincerely. “Let me send some locals to check it out, get some evidence if he was taken by our unsub.”

“We don’t like questions, Spence. Isn’t that what the cute blonde called you?” Dean chuckled as Spencer nodded, unflinching at the term of endearment from his best friend. “Hunters might play cops and robbers now and then, but we try to stay off y’alls’ radar as much as possible. But, uh, thanks, man.”

“If you’re sure?” Spencer asked, looking out through his lashes at the confident and emotionally stunted alpha male that was Dean Winchester. “Be careful, Dean, I don’t want to have to arrest you.”

“Yeah, man, we’re good.” The men parted ways peacefully, Spencer returned to the precinct as Sam and Dean headed down to the next interstate exchange to find another cheap motel. Spencer didn’t know what he was going to feed his team, but somehow breaking protocol had become something he did.

This T-bone fella had especially bad taste for a hunter, the motel practically came with its own call girls. Dean scoped the bare legs lining the parking lot as Sam shook his head at his older brother. “That one in the red, Sammy.” He hummed in appreciation and grinned at himself. “Maybe if we wrap this up we can have a little fun?”

Sam was tight lipped, “Dean, I don’t pay for sex or S.T.I.s for that matter.” He slammed his car door and moseyed over to his brother’s side of the car with the supply bag. “The one in the red? I’m pretty sure she’s in transition.”

Dean balked and did a double take, “I’m not even sorry about looking, that is well done.”

“Right.” Sam headed up to the presumably vacant hotel room. He knocked, but the old door swung wide, revealing a maid with earbuds, singing at the top of her lungs while vacuuming. Once she saw the two hulking figures in the doorway, she let out a scream. Sam and Dean grimaced but waved before slowly approaching the young woman. “Excuse me? Did the man that was staying here check out recently?”

“No, he didn’t pay for another week, so the boss says no freeloading. He has been gone for two, no, three days?” The Winchester shared a look.

“Thanks, ma’am. Sorry to startle you.” Dean gave his best smolder in gratitude.

“He was a pig, I have been cleaning all morning. Scribbling all over the walls and the tacks!” She grumbled, but rubbed her fingers together insisting on a tip. Dean rolled his eyes and reached for his wallet.

“Is everything in the trash on your cart, yet? Maybe there is something we can use to track him down.” Sam finished the last part lowly to his brother.

“No, too much for my cart, sir.” The woman pointed across the parking lot. “Its all out there, good luck.” She smirked as Dean slid a note into her palm. He rose his eyebrows in mock gratitude.

After Rochambeau-ing for the joy of dumpster diving, Dean and Sam had worked out the area that T-bone had been canvassing, he seemed pretty convinced that it was a lone Ghoul on account of the blood drained after death. “You know this guy isn’t too bad, if I didn’t trust the scrawny kid I would have agreed with him.”

“Right, well, let’s get over there.” Sam muttered.

“I am going to need like ten showers tonight.” Dean griped as he brushed his hands on his jeans. Sam just laughed, ducking inside the Impala.

Spencer walked back into the precinct; the tension upon his solo return was palpable. He glanced between each of his teammates and Detective Cutts as they eyed him back, warily.

“Rossi, what happened?” Spencer asked apprehensively.

“It seems like your friends have been busy, Agent Reid. They were at the M.E.’s too. I’m sorry but they are now at the top of the suspect list.” The older detective cut in before Rossi could answer.

“You’re wrong, Detective. Sam and Dean are looking for a friend that was investigating the deaths before you and your team even put it together.”

“Reid,” Rossi began gently, “If they’re innocent, why haven’t you been able to get them in here? This could all be cleared up if they just came down for some questions. Isn’t that right, Cutts?”

Detective Cutts grunted, adjusting his utility belt.

“Sir?” Garcia’s voice called from the speaker setting on Morgan’s phone. He didn’t say anything to Reid, but his impatient facade hid nothing from the younger agent.

“Go ahead Garcia.”

“I found them, I sent Reid their hotel information not too long ago, why don’t you just follow up with him?”

“I’m already back, Garcia.” Reid held his opposite elbow across his chest.

“So, no use delaying anymore?” Garcia huffed. “Listen, I know Dean, sort of. He’s a sweetie. I may not be a profiler, but he did not hurt all those people, sir.”

“Thanks, Garcia, for what its worth.”

The team assembled with the locals to bring in the Winchesters. Spencer’s stomach pitched at the idea of arresting Sam and Dean while the real unsub was still roaming free. Free to kill again, maybe even the luckless hunter T-bone. He worked in silence, securing his vest and weapon. Refusing eye contact and even ignoring direct questions from Morgan and JJ. Blake had tried to approach him, but he just shook his head at her before she could work her calming magic over him.

“Rossi, a word?” Spencer interrupted the senior agent and the head of SWAT and Detective Cutts. Once they were alone in the hallway he began his vehement monologue. “We have the profile wrong. We never profiled two unsubs. Sam and Dean may know more than we do, but they are not the killers. We are wasting time while people are dying.”

“I agree with you, but we can’t have people impersonating agents and interfering with the investigation, Reid.” Rossi whispered conspiratorially. “I am going to hang back and continue to work the profile with Morgan and Garcia. I need Detective Cutts gone to do that, do you understand?”

“You want me to lead the Detective straight to Sam and Dean?” Spencer countered.

“I want you to take him and his men to their hotel to get them to cooperate.” Rossi said simply.

“Alright, I’ll get Blake and JJ and head out.”

“There’s our genius.” Rossi smirked. “Be safe.”

Spencer nodded and set his jaw in determination.

As Dean drove, the angel Ezekial surfaced from within his brother’s mind. He was not amused with their current circumstances.

“Why are we dirtying our hands with the filth of your people, Dean?” His monotone voice was unimpressed as always.

“You know, I was beginning to think you had forgotten to wake up. How’s it going Zeke? Comfy? Safe?” Dean glanced over at the beady eyes watching him severely. “That’s what I thought. I am not chasing angels this time, we’re just helping out friends. It’s what people do. I’m pretty sure even angels understand that basic concept.”

“The angels are organizing to seize control and you are chasing after someone you haven’t even met. Prioritize, Dean, I’m only here because you asked me.”

“One more day, and we’re back to the bunker. Zeke, I swear, no harm no foul.” Dean’s voice was clipped, he looked forward and grasped the steering wheel between two tight fists. And just as soon as he appeared, the angel sunk back to the recesses of Sam’s consciousness. Dean was really starting to hate the guy.

Spencer sat in the backseat of the dark Suburban as JJ drove them to the hotel he had departed not an hour before. Blake was making small talk, though Spencer knew it was never small. Every word was carefully placed, every inflection intentional. He was being petulant and not participating, until she purposely attributed a quote to John Donne instead of the philosopher Baruch Spinoza.

“Wicked is not much worse than indiscreet.” Spencer’s voice cracked forward, calling the linguist out.

“Who are these men to you, Spencer?” Alex Blake asked, challenging his overly secretive behavior.

Spencer watched out the window, not falling victim to the attractive pairs of eyes following him in the rear view mirror. “They’re friends. They are brothers that save people, just not in the same capacity we do.”

“Where did you meet them?” JJ asked.

“In my apartment, actually.” Spencer miffed matter-of-factually. “It was after you left for the Pentagon, Jayge.”

The blonde nodded, realizing there was so much yet to learn about her long time friend. “Why do you trust them?”

“Because Dean saved my life.”

“That works for me.” Blake said after the heavy truth settled within the vehicle.

Spencer led the locals into the empty hotel room, following Detective Cutts’ every instruction. The laptop left open to an obvious diversion, but he pointed it out to the officers’ curious eyes. Their weapons traveled with them, so nothing incriminating was recovered. Spencer shrugged at Blake and JJ as they called the raid a wash, agreeing to return to the precinct while the locals “secured” the scene.

Dean and Sam walked into the old maintenance garage on the back acres of the cemetery. The metal rattling of the slamming service door put the hunters on high alert. They had their guns raised and scanned the dark space around the old tractor and golf carts used for collecting discarded flowers and trash. After a few minutes checking the ins and outs of the vast space, Dean realized that he couldn’t hear Sam’s moose hooves. He called out and spun, to meet a large stone to his temple.

The three agents in their vests met back with Morgan and Rossi at the nearly vacated precinct. By the looks on their faces, they had unveiled the unsub. “What did you guys find? Was there another body?” JJ was worried.

“No, but we located our unsub.” Morgan explained.

“Well, who is it?”

“Markus Cutts.” Rossi deadpanned.

“That’s why you needed the detective chasing the wrong lead.” Spencer caught on.

“Right, but now we need to get over to the All Saints Cemetery.” Rossi had been strapping on his Kevlar as he spoke. “Because Mr. Cutts definitely has some new victims.”

Morgan spun the photograph he held in his large hands. It was a security camera shot from the front gate of the graveyard, a black Chevy was parked besides a rusted truck. The license plate on the junker an unmissable T-B1 from Iowa. The returning SWAT were quickly briefed, allowing the BAU lead over Detective Cutts who had been barred from continuing the case.

Rolling over the gravel service entrance, a parade of dark vehicles surrounded the old metal barn. The seasoned team moved in sync through the dimming light of dusk. Spencer and Blake entered at the back while JJ and Morgan went through the hefty door toward the front of the building. While they found no one, the unmistakable sound of groans were growing closer.

Then Morgan batted something off his bare head, “Shit!” he exclaimed understanding freezing him in place. His gun and flashlight flashed upwards to the rafters. Spencer spotted the bodies hanging, secured by one or both ankles from the metal framework above them. Dean was unconscious, his jacket a mocking flag taunting Spencer. He scanned the room, finding the old built in ladder just inside the service door.

“Markus?! Markus Cutts, come out with your hands up.” Morgan called out as JJ sprinted to follow Spencer up to the cat walk. SWAT were working their way through the building, two officers were working on setting up ladders to safely remove the victims from their perch twenty feet in the air. On the higher level, Spencer slowed his pace, checking every access point to ensure he could get to the Winchesters without being blindsided.

Worry held his throat as he saw that it was Sam’s blood that had fallen on to his friend’s scalp. He happened upon who must be the illusive T-Bone first, a mixed young man in jeans and a hoodie hung completely lifeless from the first row of scaffolding. By the color of his ankles and the temperature of his skin, Spencer calculated that he had been dead for over a day. He shook his head at JJ and followed her back to the next row, towards Dean.

Suddenly there was a loud crash and a crouching figure had fallen before JJ on the swaying metal ramp. “Freeze!” Her tone was clear and efficient.

Markus Cutts, didn’t freeze, he snarled at JJ, pouncing forward and she put him down with two quick shots.

Over an hour later T-Bone, Dean, Sam and a fourth unidentified victim had been cut down from their hanging prison. Dean had come to before he made it to one of the waiting ambulances. Naturally he refused to go to the hospital. Instead, answered some of JJ’s questions while Sam’s over-sized body was secured into the back of the nearest truck.

“Alright, lady, are we done?” Dean grunted, “I need to be with my brother, if you don’t mind.” His voice softened, when he caught her startled expression.

Spencer had given his statement for the locals on the shooting of Markus Cutts, who was, as profiled a very ill human (not a ghoul). His father had made his way to the scene despite his orders. Spencer watched the father’s breakdown with a deep sympathy in his chocolate eyes. Rossi approached Spencer and patted him on the back.

“Looks like your friends did lead us to the unsub after all.”

“Rossi, I just want to apologize for my unprofessionalism on this case.” Spencer cleared his throat. “If it had been Hotch, I wouldn’t have even been allowed to speak with them alone.”

“Yeah, well, Hotch is the rules guy. Me? I trust my gut.” Rossi smirked. “Now, somebody is going to have to drive that beautiful Chevy over to the hospital for your ‘gambling’ buddy, right?”

Spencer grinned in the red glow of taillights, a gentle wave sending Rossi off as he brought Baby to a purr. Unhindered and unassisted the Winchester brothers disappeared from Baptist Memorial Hospital before midnight rounds.

“History and experience tell us that moral progress comes not in comfortable and complacent times, but out of trial and confusion.”- Gerald R. Ford

@imagicana @cherry-loves-fanfic @hanny-writes-spn @ilovehuntersinflannel @mxolhfanfics @gubl-oser @there-must-be-a-lock @dontshootmespence @simmvez

[leland-chapman-the-bounty-hunter]

Done for You-3

Chapter Title: New Year’s Day

Author: Max

Word Count: 6,502

Warnings: Fluff, angst, smut, suicide, suicide notes, character death, minor character death, implied/referenced character death, original character death(s), temporary character death, past character death, near death experiences, child death, animal death, not really character death, possible character death, near death, slow burn, slow to update, slow romance, tags may change, rating may change

Rating: Teen audiences and up

Summary: A fanfiction based off of Wretched and Divine and Vale aka an overhaul of a fanfiction that I had been writing for a few years.

Main pairing: Undecided

Author’s Note: Don’t forget to comment because comments are what keep me going and make me want to continue writing. I do not get paid to write this and I could be using this time to study for my AP Government and Politics exam and all of my college courses (I’m a dual enrollment child). Comments are your way of giving me my “paycheck” and feedback on my writing so I can improve to actually earn a paycheck from this in the future. So please help me put by commenting, liking and reblogging this.

I walked down the damp hallways looking around at the people walking around. I was too afraid to take off my mask. As soon as I took it off, I would be noticed as a Wild One. The rooms seemed to be numbered based off the serial numbers on the outfits. I looked at the number only outfit, 24465, and walked up to the second floor where I assumed the room this woman lived in was. The hallways were long and dark, only light by dimming fluorescent lights. I walked up to a heavy metal door imprinted with the number 24465. It was faded to almost nothing but I could still read it. I looked at the door and smiled lightly. The door handle was cold and rusted, almost falling apart in my hand. I opened the door and walked in. The room was falling apart. The floor was dirt and the only light came from a slit in the ceiling. Branches reached in and tried to grab the bed. Roots from trees reached in and poked up from the ground. A blanket was draped across a root that was underneath the skylight. There was no bed, presumably one wouldn’t fit. A bunch of pillows and blankets in the corner of the room replaced what would have been a bed in any other more normal situation. The room was a step down from what I was used to, but it wasn’t the worst place I had ever stayed. I was in F.E.A.R headquarters, or what looked like it. So, all I had to do was somehow free my friends and somehow get in contact with my brothers, which might prove hard. I had no idea what they looked like or what their names were. I would have to do a DNA scan on everyone in the F.E.A.R database. I could get some hits but I could also set off some alarms. I’m sure F.E.A.R had a trace on all of my DNA. I would have to tie my DNA to a child who was just born or something. The whole brothers thing really just came second. I would first have to dream up a plan to get my friends out of here. I looked around the room and sighed lightly, I guess that was the general plan of action. “H-hey, do you mind if I hide in here for a bit?” I turned around and came face to face with a small man and by small I meant short. He maybe had a few inches on me and he looked super scared. He was shirtless, black and grey tattoos covering him from his waistline to his neck. His hair looked like it was normally done up in an Elvis-like style but it was messy now. His whole body was shaking and his skin was stretched over his bones. I ushered him in and he rushed to the pile of blankets and pillows, covering himself up. A bunch of F.E.A.R agents rushed past my doorway and one stopped in front of me. “Agent 24465, have you seen this man?” The agent held up a picture of the man I was harboring in my room. On instinct I shook my head ‘no’. The agent nodded and headed on his merry way. The man got up from his hiding place upon hearing the agents leave and looked at me, smiling lightly. “Thank you so much for doing that. They’ve been looking for me for ages. I kind of don’t like going to the doctors.” I pulled off my helmet and looked around more clearly. My face was probably red and sweaty. His face turned from grateful to terrified in a minute. “What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?” I asked, looking at him before turning to the dusty mirror to check my face. It was red, as I had predicted. “Aren’t you a Wild One?” He asked, his voice trembling lightly as he looked me over. I turned back to him and furrowed my brow. I turned and looked down at the dirt. “How would you know what a Wild One looked like? Even if I was a Wild One, I wouldn’t reveal it to you.” I took a cautious step forward towards the man. “Well, first off, if you were a F.E.A.R agent you would have turned me in. I don’t think anyone in F.E.A.R would have let me stay here. Second off, you have a scar on your neck.” “Fuck.” I leaned into the mirror, looking at my reflection, the pale W on my neck. I had forgotten all about the brand of the Wild Ones. Just like the lore of some pirates, being marked with a P, us Wild Ones got our own. Only a few of us, the ones who had been caught before, had the mark of a true Wild One. I sighed and wanted to rub the damn thing off. “Guess your secret is out. Now what the hell are you doing in here? Thought you all couldn’t find us.” He looked me over. “Bunch of us got captured and I had the stupid idea to impersonate a F.E.A.R agent to see if I can find my brothers. It was my father’s last wish actually. If I went with the Wild Ones, the remaining ones, I wouldn’t have this chance pop again. At least not for awhile. I was impulsive so I decided to come with the captured ones, only to come as a F.E.A.R agent so I had access to all of the equipment I need to find my brothers. My dad said they were in F.E.A.R schools.” I turned and looked over my shoulder at him. “So, why are you trusting me with this? For all you know, I work for the other guy.” He looked at me and smiled lightly. “I don’t know, quite honestly. You just have one of those souls.” I looked over my shoulder at him. He smiled and looked down at the dirt. “So you just trust my soul? You just trust someone who could be working for F.E.A.R?” He asked, looking me over. I nodded and looked back at him. He looked down and smiled lightly as he looked at me. I rubbed at the scar awkwardly and looked down.   “Yeah, it sounds a little ridiculous. But I guess you could just call me crazy.” I looked him over and hid the scar with the hoodie I had underneath the uniform. “I don’t think I would call you crazy.” He gave me a smile and looked me over. I nodded and looked over the room once more. “So, what’s your name?” I asked him. He gave me a smile and looked down a bit, covering his smile up a bit. He had a nice smile and I had no idea why he covered it up. “The name is William.” He extended a hand and smiled at me, not covering it up this time. I extend my own hand and shook it. “The name is Max, but I think I might have already told you that.” I looked at him and smiled lightly as he looked me over. His brow furrowed as he looked at me. I did the same back, looking back at him. “So how did you get that scar? I know you’re a Wild One. I also know you came here to get your friends out and to find your brothers. But I don’t know much more than that.” “Well you might also want to open up to me as well if you’re going to ask those kinds of questions.” I winked and moved over to the makeshift bed, looking at him. He nodded and sat down next to me. “Well, tell me about how you got that scar.” He looked at me then at where my hand cover the scar. I nodded and uncovered the scar as I looked at him. “I got it when I was raiding this Target near our old compound, the one before this one that just got raided. I was stupid enough to keep my hood down and look directly at the cameras a few times. F.E.A.R tracked me down and decided that I was going to be arrested. They took me in and ran my DNA against the Wild Ones they had in the system from previous arrests. I came up from a petty crime I had committed when I was enrolled in a F.E.A.R school. They saw my clothes and more arrests. They saw that I had dropped off the grid not long after the petty crime. It wasn’t hard to determine that I was a Wild One. They weren’t going to keep me, not from what I heard of their conversations, this was only my second strike which meant that I was going to get a few days in jail and get my branding. I did my time and got the brand. What’s your deal?” I shrugged and looked at him, nothing else to say. “I am shocked that you really don’t know my face. I am, more so was, the face and voice of F.E.A.R at one point. F.E.A.R agents picked me up on the side of the road. I was drugged out of my mind. I was on a cocktail of drugs. Herion, PCP, cocaine and loads of others. All I needed was something to clutch onto. I don’t know why but when F.E.A.R agents came banging on the door of the drug house I was in, I didn’t put up much of a fight. I just went with them. They saw my face and decided that I was going to become the face of F.E.A.R and if I didn’t agree, I would have to die. I went along with it and I was that face. I went almost insane with power. They locked me up as soon as I was of no use to them. They kept running my words but there has never been a new one yet. They were going to make one today but I ran away before they could get me all prepped and ready.” He shrugged and looked down. I wrapped an arm around his shoulder, not knowing what else to do. “I honestly thought that things would be very different.” He said after a long silence. I looked down and dropped my arm. “What would you mean by that? I don’t think you and I have ever seen any different.” I asked, sitting next to him. “I mean, we could be normal. Do you see all of the perfect people out there? Their perfect lives with their perfect children? Their perfect houses and perfect jobs? I mean, we could both have a totally different lives. Maybe I could be doing something more with my life and the same with you.” William looked at me and smiled lightly. “I don’t think that could ever happen. We’re too a messed up of a society. If we hadn’t let F.E.A.R take over and if we hadn’t resisted.” “Do you wish you could have done it differently? Like if you chose to be compliant to F.E.A.R instead of just leaving it all behind and resisting? Because I want to do everything over. I wish I had never gone into drugs. I wish I never let my life get that far. I wish I had just shut up and stayed quiet.” “There are times when I think about it. I lie awake at night and just think about how different my life would be if I hadn’t gone with Andy. That if I had ran away from him and gone into the city, I would have been in a F.E.A.R orphanage. I think that if I hadn’t been born from a Shadow, I would have lived a totally compliant life. That I was going to be a little brainwashed teenager going to college. But I don’t think I would ever change anything.” “Wait, you were the child who came out of a Shadow?” He looked me over and I nodded, pulling my ponytail out of the way to show the markings on the back of my neck. He smiled and raised a hand to it, barely touching the black markings. I smiled and looked back at him. His smile widened and his fingertips touched my markings. “Those are the markings I somehow got while I was in a Shadow. They say my mom was one and that I was ‘born’ from her when Andy and the crew opened up the Shadow.” William’s eyes widened and that was my cue to keep going. I smiled and looked at her. “What the flying fuck? How the hell did that fucking happen?” I shrugged and giggled lightly. The sounds of F.E.A.R agents hushed us up for a few seconds. “Yeah, I know. It’s so fucking weird. I don’t remember that much, mind you, but I just remember kind of crawling out a Shadow. I never really knew what the fuck happened before that. But that was like almost a decade ago.” “Yeah, you’re like eighteen aren’t you?” He asked, looking at me. I smiled lightly and got even more comfortable. His soft grey “Round about. I could be a year or two older or younger, Jinxx matched my dental and bone records to other people around the age they thought I was and I matched almost, but I’m generally considered eighteen.” William nodded. “I have never heard of a Shadow giving birth. It seems so weird to me. Then again, I have never actually seen one in real life nor do I know the inner-workings of one.” “From my experience and knowledge, and don’t quote me on this, the Shadows are created when a person dies. At least, that is if they are the right kind of person. Shadows are only created with druggies and diseased people. Once the person dies, F.E.A.R takes them in and lets them sit in the sun for a few days. Then they take the person to the depths of the compound that specializes in Shadows. This is where a majority of process to turn the corpse into a Shadow happens. In the darkness, the corpse is flayed open and allowed to ‘drink in’ the darkness. The corpse stays in there for two weeks. Then, the corpse goes through a mummification process. During this time, F.E.A.R covers the corpse with water. As soon as that’s done, they take the corpse into the desert and allow the sand to cover the body. They put the corpse into the Shadow outfit and bring the corpse with the outfit on back to the compound. There they burn the whole thing as the apart finale. If the corpse burns, it’s not a good enough corpse. If the corpse doesn’t burn, the final part is completed. F.E.A.R stitches the corpse into the outfit and places a microchip into the heart and brain of the corpse. That’s how they control the whole thing. There are also Shadows that have living people in there but most of them have died due to exposure, dehydration or malnutrition. Which is why people normally work with just corpses. It’s pretty easy to make one without the outfit or the microchips but that’s coming from the necromancer. I have tried to make one before. That was after I looked through a F.E.A.R approved book on how to make one. Though, it did come from someone who used to work with the Shadows.” “That’s so cool. Well, not really but you know what I mean. Were you a least successful?” He looked at me with wide eyes. I looked down and nodded slowly. I fiddled with my hands and took a deep breath before opening my mouth to speak again. “Yes, I was successful. I was successful seven times but I have kept them alive. In their living state, they do not know what they are. I have told them that they die, I have kept from them the horror that they have really gone through. All of them are kind of powered in one way or another. My first experiment was on a vampire. I just wanted to see if a vampire was able to turn into a Shadow. It was highly successful and I continued with more people. I turned to a person who could see ghosts, a medium. He was easy and his powers were actually heightened after I killed him. So was my little human computer. I also challenged myself by allowing myself to work on an alien and the process works on him to. I also did it on a half human, half animal. It worked for him. The process almost went array with my little dragon. He still has nightmares about the process but it Since I am able to bring the dead back in a zombie-like form, I don’t really have any need to create a Shadow but I experimented. I got addicted and Andy finally told me that six was enough. I worked on a wolf in secret and he’s still alive somewhere but I never got a chance to reign him back in. He seems to be wreaking some havoc as well from what I can see on the television.” William and I went silent. The damp air hung around us. I looked at the wall across from me. I couldn’t bare to look into my new friend’s eyes. My heart was poured out to a person I barely knew. It was raw and bare. I didn’t even know who he would tell if I let him go. I hadn’t even told the people who were Shadows that they were Shadows but I had told a stranger. My heart beat faster and in the silence, I swore William could have heard it. We barely moved and not a word was spoken between us. Eventually William just wrapped an arm around me. Tears escaped my eyes as I curled into his body. My fingers dug in-between his ribs. I held onto him and broke down crying. Both of his arms wrapped around me. All of this emotion came flooding in. All of the emotions that I had repressed over the past few days, months, weeks and years. I was angry at myself for ever joining the Wild Ones. I was saddened by the fact that I never had any sort of normal life. I was terrified of the future and what it held. I was alone and I was the only one who I could trust. I was turning into a monster. I was the monster that little kids were scared of. I was the monster who killed their only friends and brought them back to life. “You’re okay, you’re going to be okay. It’s okay to cry.” He looked at me and smiled lightly. I looked at him and wiped my eyes. I cried and cried for a bit, my eyes getting puffy and tired. I rubbed my eyes and looked down lightly. “Hey, if you’re tired you should sleep?” My whole body tensed up. I barely got through a night without waking up in a cold sweat or because of Andy wanting to he the hell out of dodge. Being in a new place, without having scoped it out before? That made me super nervous and just straight up tense. “I don’t think I can sleep right now.” I shifted in my seat and pried myself away from the man. My chest was tight and my heart rate sped up. “I’ll keep watch, okay?” I looked at him as my heart rate slowed down a bit. I nodded and looked down as I closed my eyes. I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders. ~ Hot, dry desert even in the dead of night. The stars and moon light up my walking path. Dust kicked up and into my face. I pulled my shirt up over my nose and mouth. There was nothing but sand in every direction. No chance of finding the Wild Ones here. There was no sign of civilization in any direction. I had no idea which way to go before a figure began walking towards me. I stood in my place for a few seconds before walking towards the figure. “Hello Max, my little bird. We’re worried about you but it seems as though you are okay.” Ashley smiled and touched my elbows. I blushed and looked at him. “Yeah, I’m okay. I can take care of myself. Looks like you and the guys fled to the desert.” I looked at him and tried to take in his looks. He got better looking everyday and being gone from him made me realize how handsome he was. I smiled, looking him over. He smiled and looked back at me. “Yeah, we saw you make the stupid decision. I’m sorry about your dad though. He was a good guy. He’ll be missed.” His eyes turned sad as he looked me over. I smiled and looked down, nodding a bit. “I know, Andy’s going to kick my ass for that but my dad, he gave me a mission and you know his missions trump everything. Well, not exactly a mission but more so of getting my family safe. Safer than they are right now. They’re under F.E.A.R’s control. I couldn’t just leave our friends as well. I need to get them out of here.” Ashley’s eyes softened a bit as he looked me over. “There are people who are still alive?” Ashley’s eyebrows jumped up, his eyes widening. I nodded lightly. “Yeah, loads of them. Chris, Jamie, Ryan, Ryan Ashley, Josh, Ghost, Ricky and Vinny are all alive. I road with them here. They’re in holding cells right now. As soon as I get a hit on my brothers, I’m taking all of them out of there.” “We’ve hot Gaia, Kylie and Juliet with us right now. How exactly are you going to find your brothers and getting all of them out of the compound?” He chuckled, knowing I never really planned anything out. I just jumped to conclusions and did whatever my heart told me to do. “Connect my DNA to a newborn and trace them that way. As soon as I find them, wherever they are, I’m going to present this ring to them.” I pulled the ring out of the bag to show him. He nodded slowly and looked at me. “That sounds a bit farfetched, don’t you think?” He asked, looking me over once more. My shoulders slumped as I took in what was happening and how stupid I was to think that that plan would work. “Pretty stupid, huh? But I saw my opportunity and I knew I might never have a chance like that again. I mean, look at where you guys are trying to hide. There’s a fat chance F.E.A.R will find you there. I need to do this and I know you can’t stop me.” Ashley chuckled and looked at me, shaking his head. “That’s what you’re known for, stupid decisions. I support you, just be careful out there. I don’t want you to to get hurt. Is there anyone who knows you’re there?” Ashley looked over my shoulder. “Yes, a man named William. He doesn’t seem like too much trouble and I trust him. At least, as much as I can trust someone I just met.” “Why would you trust a man you just met, especially in a F.E.A.R compound?” He shook me lightly and looked me over. I shrugged. “I have no idea.” He looked at me and sighed lightly. His back turned to me. Ashley shook his head and crossed his arms. I walked up to him and placed a hand on a shoulder. His head dropped as he looked at me. “I don’t want someone I love to get hurt.” His voice was soft and light. I could barely hear him. He shook his head once more. “Love is just a bit silly don’t you think? A bit too dangerous for us Wild Ones. It would go against every rule we every put in place. No children to bring into this war, no danger, no ties to anyone.” I whispered, looking him over. He shook his head again and looked down. I sighed and looked down. I had messed up. “But love is what can mend the situation we’re in and I love…” He trailed off, turning his head to look at me. “You love who?” I asked, looking him over, trying to pry an answer out of him. He shook his head. “I have to go. Andy doesn’t like it when I stay here too long. He always thinks I’m going to fucking die or something.” He nodded curtly and looked down lightly. He began walking away from me. I sighed and looked down. ~ Light, warm light, peaked through the skylight. My eyes opened weakly. They were puffy and I couldn’t hardly see out of them. I stretched, raising my arms above my head. William slept soundly next to me. My whole body tensed as I looked at the closed door in front of us. I didn’t remember closing it. But then again I was very forgetful. I rubbed my eyes and looked at the door. A light pounding in my head meant that I had a dream, a dream of my friends. “What day is it?” I asked, my voice groggy, lightly looking at William. He gave me a confused look and furrowed his eyebrows. He probably thought I was crazy but to be honest, I haven’t looked at a calendar in my whole life. I never knew what day it was and the Wild Ones ballpark their birthdays. I was embarrassed that I didn’t know what day it was but it was a question I had.   “It’s the last day of the year. December thirty-first.” He looked me over and felt over my body. I’m guessing he was checking for a fever. “Sorry but I never know what day it is. Wild Ones don’t really have access to something as simple as a calendar. It rarely matters when there are more important things we could be focusing on.” William nodded and looked me over once more. “The Wild One life seems a bit stressful.” He chuckled and tried to lighten the mood but considering I had just cried, I wasn’t in the mood to laugh. “Yeah, seems like it but considering I am the ‘only one who can save the world’ it gets even more stressful.” I pulled myself away from William and smiled lightly as he looked me over. “So you’re the chosen one in the prophecy.” He looked me over and smiled. I furrowed my brow and looked him over. His eyes widened when he saw my confusion. “What prophecy? I haven’t heard of a prophecy. All I’ve been told is that I was going to save the world one day.” Andy had never revealed any sort of prophecy involving me to him. “Well, I guess I better tell you. This prophecy is an old one, maybe fifty or so years old. It dates all the way back to Trump and he even heard it. Only a select few have ever heard it. Every president of the United States of America has heard it but that’s about it. The only reason I know it is because I listened in while the Head of F.E.A.R heard it. It says that it shall be on the day that stars fall from the sky, children of darkness shall usher forth a rise in immorality and a time of serenity.” “But children of darkness could mean anything. It can’t possibly be me or anyone in my circle. We’re not children of darkness, are we?” “I mean, think about it. Look at your uniforms for the Wild Ones. All of you wear dark clothes. The F.E.AR. uniforms are white and more suited for looking for you guys in the hot sun.” He looked over my outfit. I still had the F.E.A.R uniform on instead of my normal outfit. I stripped from the F.E.A.R uniform, “Don’t think I’ll be needing this anymore. I mean, not unless I need to head out of this room.” “Sounds like a good plan. You’ll have to put it on tonight for the New Year’s Eve party. Don’t think F.E.A.R trains today, national holiday.” I looked at him and nodded lightly. I plopped back down on the bed and looked up. “You seem distracted. Though I don’t know what that looks like. That was stupid, I’m sorry. I only just met you. I don’t know what distracted looks like on you.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck and looked down. “It’s okay. I’m a bit distracted today. I had a really weird dream last night.” I looked down and sighed lightly. I didn’t want to say any more but I had a feeling he would pry. “Oh, okay. That’s cool. I mean not cool in a good way, cool in kind of a bad way?” He looked at me and sighed lightly, pulling himself out of the bed. “So, what’s the schedule like here? I’m going to need to get the schedule down so I don’t look like a newbie. I’m assuming the agent whose place I took wasn’t much of a newbie.” He looked at me and then down at his watch. I assumed he was checking the time but he barely looked up as he continued through his rundown of the schedule. “You guess correctly and I’m assuming you didn’t get a good look at her because you bear a striking resemblance to her, which is good. As long as you don’t miss anything, no one will suspect that you’re a fraud. Breakfast is at 8:30am and training is at normally at 9:00am, holidays are the exception to that rule. That leaves thirty minutes for you to eat and get ready. You train for three hours then at noon, you eat lunch. You train for another five hours then have an hour break to get ready for dinner. You have thirty minutes to eat dinner than you have the rest of the night to yourself. Your number will occasionally be called for raids or missions, be ready. Those trump any training you may miss. You may also be assigned to cell duty and that also trumps any training. There’s a library the floor above us. All floors below us are either cells or boarding. The training center is above the library, which is inconvenient if you’re trying to study after hours and someone else wants to train. I’ll give you my watch, it has both the correct date and time on it. It’s waterproof in up to eight feet of water but I don’t think that you’ll need it. There are cameras everywhere but none of them actually work. They’re there for show, nothing more. You’ll be pretty much safe here. No need to worry about scanning. As long as you stay out of trouble, you’ll be okay.” He stripped himself of the watch and placed the watch on my wrist. It was made of rubber, a material that hadn’t been used in over fifty years. “What do I need to do to look like her? Sound like her? Act like her? But that’s only because I’m assuming you knew what she looked like.” I asked, moving the watch back and forth on my wrist. “You’re talking to the only person to ever know what agent 24465 looked like. She never took off her helmet for anyone except for me. I already said you looked like her, so there’s no change required there. Her voice was a bit higher than yours but I’m assuming you took testosterone or are taking it, am I correct?” He asked, looking me over. I nodded. I had totally forgotten to take my medicine with me. All of the testosterone I ever wanted or needed was with Juliet. “Then just say you’re sick and we’ll be okay.” I nodded and looked down at the watch. It was eight in the morning. “I should get going. Breakfast is in thirty minutes.” I turned to go leave but William grabbed my wrist, pulling me back. “The breakfast is cafeteria style. Get eggs and ketchup, orange juice and sausage. No more, no less. You will sit in the back of the room. Eat for exactly ten minutes. After that, you will get up and head to the library. You will go to the romance section and sit down in the middle of the aisle.” His voice was soft and serious. I gulped, nodding lightly before heading out. I jogged up the steps to the cafeteria. It was dimly lit and smelled like canned food. Some people were already sitting down and eating. There was no talking and only the scraps of forks on plates. I smiled lightly and walked up to get my food. I smiled at the lady serving and she looked me over. Her brows furrowed as she looked at me. I cocked my head and looked back at her. I got my food from her and walked to the spot William told me to sit. I ate for exactly ten minutes, disposing of my garbage, and headed up to the library. It took me awhile to find the romance section but I did find it. I sat down in the middle of the aisle, waiting. “Hey.” William poked his head into the section. He leaned against the bookshelf and crossed his arms. I smiled lightly and giggled. He looked up at a camera behind me and smiled. “I thought you were going to hide out, not get caught by one of us.” I whispered and raised an eyebrow. “They’re off duty, though I’m not going to push it any further than coming here to talk to you. There’s more information you have to know if you want your DNA in the system, attracted to a newborn no less, and break your friends out of those cells.” “Okay, and you’re just magically the one who knows everything about everyone and everything? Did I meet the info-dumping plot device of my dreams?” I batted my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder. He giggled lightly and smiled. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. It leans more to yes, I am. I am the info-dumping plot device of your dreams.” “So why the romance section? Seems like you want to not so subtly want to say you want to start something with me.” William blushed lightly and chuckled. He pulled out a mustard yellow carton box with white markings and took out a singular cigarette. The letters were faded and I couldn’t make out what the brand was. He lit it up and took a drag. “It’s the only place where I can smoke without being yelled at. I’m friends with the librarian and she’ll take the citation for me. Also, romance is kind of nice. It’s a lovely genre, not enough appreciation. But anyhow, what you need to know.” “Yes, what do I need to know?” He took another drag and looked at me. His blue eyes seemed to smile at me. “First off, tonight is the New Year’s Eve party and there’s going to be a lot of people Lilly knew there. Lilly is the woman you’re impersonating, of course. Her family will be there as all the families of F.E.A.R agents are invited to come see their kids. This is the only holiday F.E.A.R cerebrates so it’s a big deal. Lilly has two younger siblings. Her brother’s name is Joshua and you shall refer to him as such. Her little sister’s name is Jessica. She’s a little shy and won’t come out of her shell. Don’t try and coax her out. Lilly’s parent’s names are John and Kelly. They’re divorced and Kelly will try and bring her boyfriend with her. You detest him with a burning passion. You have never met him before today, if he does come, and they would keep you awake with their sexual exploits. You are trying to get custody of Jessica and Joshua as your dad is a drug addict and not fit to be a dad. Second off, Lilly and I were an item. Everyone knows that and you’re going to have to pretend to like me for the night. We don’t have to kiss or anything but we do have to act a bit cuddly. Third off, the new face of F.E.A.R will be giving a speech. We don’t have to be there but we do have to at least get there for the end of it. Got it?” He looked me over. I nodded and looked at him. I gulped and looked down. We sat in the romance section for awhile before we headed back to my, more like Lilly’s room. William said that we needed to get ready. My chest was tight and my heart was beating fast. My palms were sweaty. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to go. But I had to go. We had to go. All to keep up appearances. “F.E.A.R agents are required to be at the New Year’s Eve party. I need to be there too. F.E.A.R agents won’t get me there. They aren’t allowed to make a scene during happy times. You’re going to need to put your number patch on.” William stood and began rummaging through the drawers on the dressers. He pulled out a black lace dress and tossed it to me. I stripped the number off of the uniform. instinctively I turned my back to William. I stripped off the outfit I had, jeans and a ripped tee-shirt, and put the dress on. I struggled a bit but eventually got the dress on. I turned back and looked at him. William had changed into tux in the time it had took me to put on the dress. He was almost done buttoning his top. I smiled and looked him over. He looked at his watch, “Okay, we have to go. The party probably already started and we’re already fashionably late.”