#yes! i did just make a statistics joke! i just got home from school for the day leave me alone

[pocketgalaxies]

"it's a tall big fatty solstice" that's the marisha coming out of the laudna

[keanureevesisbae]

chasing nostalgia part 2

Summary: August Walker reminisces about old times with Leilani and Roger.

August Walker x Leilani (asian ofc)

Wordcount: 1.4k

Warning: Vibrator use, double penetration, threesome, squirting.

Masterlist // chasing nostalgia masterlist // part 1

August remembers clearly when it was the Christmas holidays and the three of them were in his dorm room, since he had the largest one, with the biggest bed. They ate, they drank and smoked a lot. It was kinda sad, realizing they all didn’t have some sort of family to go home to, but at least they had each other. Leilani—the only one who seemed to care about school—was doing her homework with earbuds in, while he and Roger were doing something as stupid as a card game.

It was obvious she was deep into her own homework and Roger ushered him closer. ‘You wanna know what we did last week?’ he asked.

‘Sure,’ August said, not at all feeling a little bit of jealousy. They all knew what they had. Roger was aware Leilani did stuff with August, just like it was the other way around.

‘It started as a joke,’ Roger said, ‘but I bought a vibrator you can control on your phone.’

It piqued August’s attention right away. ‘You used it in public with her?’

He nodded. ‘During the statistics. It was her idea and she actually thought she wouldn’t squirt.’

August couldn’t help but laugh, knowing damn well how you could barely take her anywhere, without her absolutely drenching herself or them. They had a quickie in the showers once, while the college football team was playing and let’s just say it was lucky for everyone they chose the showers. ‘So, what happened?’

’Well, I edged her, because I would feel sorry for her if she’d make a mess in class.’

He chuckled. ‘Bless your heart,’ he jokingly said. ‘You’ve got it with you now?’

Roger grabbed his backpack, took something out, before he walked over to Leilani. She’s only wearing a large shirt of August. Roger pulled out one of her earbuds and she looked up to meet his eyes. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, her tone sweet as honey.

He whispered something in her ear and she simply nodded. She shimmied out of her underwear and the shirt, before she spread her legs apart. Roger lubricated the little vibrator between her lips—probably still a little bit worked up by the teasing of a few hours prior, because knowing Leilani, she is unable to get it out of her brain—and she already bit down her lip.

‘Can I, sweet girl?’ Roger asked, pushing some of her hair out of her face.

‘Yes, sir, you can,’ she said and from the way she stiffened up and gasped, August knew what Roger had done.

‘Give me kiss, sweetheart.’

She pressed a kiss on Roger’s lips, before hovering over her homework again. Roger plopped on the bed again, holding out his phone for August, the app already opened.

August started off slow, witnessing her jolting in the seat. The vibrator was quiet, but they still heard it. The way Leilani held onto the pencil, they could tell she was already having trouble with concentrating on the material. Her legs were pressed against each other and she placed her hand over her mouth. She tried not to make a single sound, but failed miserably. They increased its intensity and when her legs started to shake, Roger turned off the entire toy and she whined, letting them in on how she felt. She turned around in her seat. ‘Don’t be mean,’ she said, pulling out her earphones, before she made her way to the bed. Leilani looked at Roger, probably thinking it was August who refrained her from her orgasm, especially because he was holding the phone. ‘Please.’

Roger shook his head, patting her bum. ‘What did I tell you?’

‘To sit over there.’ She plopped on his lap, fisting his shirt. ‘But… I need to cum.’

August chuckled, slowly increasing the volume again. ‘Be careful what you wish for, baby girl.’

Her knuckles turned white, holding on tightly on Roger’s shirt. Roger held her closely to his body, his fingertips running over her back. Her leg started to shake already and Roger and August shared a knowing look. Juices gushed passed the vibrator and Roger’s short was drenched. ‘Stop,’ she cried out, ‘please stop.’

‘Safe word, princess,’ Roger said.

But she didn’t say it. They had made the rule that they would only stop once she said ‘lilac’—since that was her favorite color—because she had this tendency to tell them to stop, when in reality she didn’t want them to quit at all.

And this was such a moment.

That entire Christmas Day was filled with sex. They were loud, since the neighbors weren’t on campus. She devoured them, the vibrator pressed against her clit, as both of them filled her up, each one a hole of hers. Leilani had her head in the clouds and when she was filled with both of their cum, she clung onto Roger. Once every few times, she’d become clingy to one of them afterwards and they knew they had to give her a bit of a break. She was always so ready, so willing for more, but sometimes she’d push herself and didn’t recognize her own limits anymore, always showing it in a clingy matter, whimpering against their chest’s and being incredibly sleepy. So they spend the next few days relaxing. She would work on her assignments, actually force them to do something as well and they watched many movies.

But then NYE came around the corner, so they all got in August’s car, parked in a deserted place and watched the fireworks. But they were quick to go to the backseat, lowered them as well, so they had plenty of room to do what they always did in the trunk. She was needy, wanted to cum after a few days pause. She was absolutely insatiable, wanted more and more. Nothing seemed to stop her and August couldn’t help but adore this version of her. Nothing was off limits. His hand landed on her bare behind many, many times, since she pushed many of his buttons.

The windows were fogged, the car was rocking and totally gave away of what happened in there, but they didn’t mind. It was a good thing August had thought ahead by placing a blanket, because he knew cum stains were quite hard to get off the seats.

But when the campus slowly filled with more and more students again, they had to be more careful again, but when August had a taste of public sex and the thrill of eventually being caught, was always on his mind and was what truly kept him going.

One day, Roger was feeling under the weather. Leilani took August to a secluded area a little outside campus. While they were having sex, Roger called her. August answered the phone, held it near her ear and forced her to answer it, while he thrusted his hard member deep in and out of her.

‘What’s wrong, Roger?’ she managed to choke out. ‘Yes, I can bring some chicken broth.’

But Roger wasn’t daft, he knew her too well and quickly discovered what happened on the other side of the line. The normal call quickly turned into a video call. Despite his fatigue and inability to have sex with her, as he had caught the flu, he said all the right things to Leilani.

When they were done, made an attempt to make themselves decent and presentable (they succeeded), Leilani got some chicken broth at the store and the two of them brought it to Roger. And that’s when a completely different version of Leilani was shown.

She was caring and loving, traits August so adored about her. The guys took care of her, but her taking care of them, was different. She fed Roger some of the broth, while August cleaned up the place a bit. Leilani stepped under the covers and let Roger curl up next to her.

She’d always make sure they were well. She held Roger, who was haunted by nightmares from time to time. She’d massage August’s shoulders when he was stressed, forcing him to go out afterwards, to get a breath of fresh air.

It was an interaction that worked so well. When Leilani was anxious for an exam, they’d drop her off at the exam hall, buying some of her favorite snacks and when she was done, they made sure she was well fed, no matter how she felt.

And that was the way they took care of each other. It crossed their minds this could be considered weird by others, but they didn’t mind. Neither of them did. It was clear Leilani was their girl and she loved them, just as much as they loved her.

♕ ♕ ♕

chasing nostalgia taglist: @diegos-butt // @thelastsock // @liecastillo // @mis-lil-red // @sofiebstar // @abschaffer2 // @crazybutconfidentaf // @summersong69 // @gearhead66 // @xobriellaxo24 // @bourbonwithice // @kebabgirl67 // @eldarwen333

[sevlgi]

what do you mean?

requested: yes

group: stray kids 

pairing: felix x fem!reader

genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst

contents: high school!au, unrequited love (at first), best friend!felix, i mention statistics a lot lmfao

warnings: none

synopsis: Felix always seems to have things figured out before you. However, he can’t seem to explain what he means to you this time; you’ll have to figure it out yourself.

a/n: felix version of the mina fic! 

word count: 2.0k

When your best friend tugs your planner over and scribbles something in it during passing period, you don’t bother to look it over. You trust that Felix’s handwriting is good enough that you won’t have to ask him what he wrote down, and so, you simply zip it up in your back like he didn’t touch it at all.

It’s only when you open it at home that you read his note. ‘I confess my undying love for you’ is written in purple pen at the corner of the page for the day, with a timestamp of 9:15 tacked next to a heart. You frown; as far as you’re concerned, confessing undying love isn’t involved in any of your inside jokes.

However, you don’t think much of it. Statistics is a bitch, and you’ve got to finish the work before 9:15-- and so, you shove the planner aside, the contents already memorized.

It’s only when you’re sitting on the swing sets of your local park, waiting for one Lee Felix, that you remember the note on your planner again. However, a certain freckled boy is making his way towards you, and you don’t have any more time to think on it.

“I brought ice cream,” Felix grins, holding his plastic bag up in triumph.

You reach for it immediately, earning a pout from your best friend. “I see how it is. You only care about the ice cream, huh?”

“Yes,” you answer simply. Felix rolls his eyes and plops the bag in your lap, choosing the swing to your left simply because it’s a nicer shade of black. Of course, he’s bought your favorite flavor, and taken the receipt out in case you try to pay him back. 

He hums and leans back, the swing creaking; apparently, he’s quite content with letting you stay confused. You scowl, and set the ice cream down in your lap. “What’s up?”

“I dunno. Classes have been okay, I guess, and--”

“I wasn’t asking about that,” you interrupt. Felix raises his head to look at you, and you repeat, slightly softer, “I didn’t mean that. Uh... I just... Why did you write you were going to confess your undying love for me?”

Your best friend’s mouth forms into a small ‘o’, and he sits up fully, his fingers curling around the swing. “Well, I kinda thought of something recently, and it’s... it’s exactly what I wrote.”

“What, that you’re in love with me? Scratch that, undyingly in love with me?” You raise your eyebrows, tapping your fingers on your ice cream.

“Well... yeah,” Felix shrugs.

Frowning, you twist your body to look at him. His face is yellow because of the streetlights that illuminate the two of you, but his freckles are still clear as day. “What do you mean?”

“I...” Your question is obviously too hard for Felix to answer immediately, so you wait, wait until his lips press into a thin line with determination. “Well, it just feels like I love you. I want you to be happy, and I want to make you happy. I try to make you laugh, and when I succeed, I just feel like smiling.”

You nod slowly, and shift your gaze to the tree a few feet away as if that’ll hide the hotness to your face. What Felix says makes sense, you suppose, but... “It doesn’t make sense,” you say aloud. 

“Okay. I’ll keep going.” You don’t tell Felix that you didn’t ask him to continue, not when he looks so animated, motioning with his hands as he talks. “I want you to go everywhere with me. We’ve spent all our birthdays together for years, Y/N, and we walk to every class together even though we don’t have a single of the same ones. We have all those plans to live together and get cats just because we know we’ll always be happy together,” Felix explains.  “Do you know what I mean?”

“You sound like you just really, really like me as a friend,” you object. “I think love... love should be different.”

“How different?”

You shrug, swinging your feet below you. “I mean, it should feel like everything’s okay when we’re together, like all the shitty things we’ve gone through are okay just because we have each other. And it should feel like we miss each other even if we’ve only been apart for a few minutes, and... I don’t really know. It should just feel like we can’t do without each other, and we love ourselves so much more when we’re with each other,” you conclude, slightly frustrated in your inability to explain what you mean.

Felix grins, “Well, if that’s what love feels like, I’m totally in love with you.”

You don’t answer, and your best friend lets go of the swings to rake his hands through his hair. “It’s okay if you don’t love me back,” he says finally. “And I mean that. I know we’re friends, and we always will be. I’m okay with that.”

“No, I... I do love you.” The words aren’t bitter on your tongue, so you take them as the truth, and you continue, “Just... I don’t know if I’m in love with you.”

The blond boy nods, dragging his feet so that his swing comes to a stop. “Okay. I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. We’re still friends,” Felix assures you, and you nod before turning back towards the sky.

There’s nothing else to say.

“Where’s Felix?”

“Getting help. Scored bad on Chem,” Jeongin answers through a mouthful of bread, not even bothering to look up from his phone. You nod, and set your backpack down next to him.

Usually, Felix just asks you for help, still convinced that his teacher will curse him out or something; he must’ve done pretty badly this time. At least, that’s what you think, until Jeongin mutters, “At least, that’s what he said.”

“What?”

Looking back up to you, the dark-haired boy’s cheeks pink when he realizes you heard him. “Ah. I just... don’t you think it’s weird that he hasn’t eaten lunch with us for, like, a week?”

“Chan never eats with us,” you point out.

“That’s cause Chan’s a TA and spends his lunches grading papers when he doesn’t have to,” Jeongin rolls his eyes. He sets his sandwich down, narrowing his eyes at you. “C’mon, Y/N. He’s your best friend. Is something up with him?”

I’m totally in love with you. You shake your head quickly to rid yourself of Felix’s voice echoing in your head, and sit down on the bench. “Not that I know of.”

“Okay.” You pretend to miss the skeptical look fired right at you, taking out your lunch; you’ve been fighting the echoes of ‘I’m totally in love with you’ for the entire week. Or, to be more specific, you’ve been fighting the smile that threatens to make its way onto your face whenever you remember the phrase. 

You convince yourself that Felix just has to catch up with Chem. It’s got nothing to do with you, or with the feelings that you aren’t so sure you don’t return.

You bite down on your bottom lip, hard, when you see the score scribbled at the top of your test. It’s bad-- not ‘humble’ bad, not 'it’s okay, i can fix it’ bad. No, it’s bad enough to make you want to cry in class, so you just tuck your paper away slowly and think of happier things.

Cold winter days, hot brownies on cold winter days, a certain smiley boy holding hot brownies on--

Wait. Felix again?

You glance at the clock hanging on the wall. It’s ticking closer and closer to the end of class, and closer and closer to the coffee-shop meeting that you’ve scheduled with Changbin; there’s more than one thing you have to ask him about now.

And so, when the bell rings at the same deafening volume it always has, you scramble out of your seat. There are so many things swirling in the wild tornado inside your mind, and you can’t wait to get it all to stop.

Changbin has barely lifted his hand to wave at you when you tackle him and demand, “How do I know if I’m in love with someone?”

“Wow. You’re intense today,” he comments, rather infuriatingly. “I thought you called me here to ask about your Statistics test?”

“No. Well, yes, I did, but this is more important.”

Laughing, Changbin teases, “I thought nothing was more important than Statistics.”

You scowl, “That was before I figure out that I’m in love with Felix.”

His face goes slack at that, but your friend rearranges his expression into an excited grin immediately. “You’ve figured it out? Thank god, Y/N,” he says.

“No, no, I’m asking you how I know I’m in love with him,” you shake your head. Gesturing vaguely in the air, you mutter, “I’m, like, not completely sure yet.”

“Oh.” Changbin frowns, tapping his pen on the Stats sheets laid out as he thinks. He isn’t the most philosophical of your friend group, but he’s definitely less busy than Chan, and less likely to make you cry with overly-sentimental words. “Well. What do you think of when you think of him?”

“Brownies,” you answer immediately. “Sunshine. That little smile he gives me whenever I stick post-it-notes to his forehead.”

Changbin hesitates, then chuckles, “I guess that was a bad question. Doesn’t clear it up at all. Okay, then, I’ll just ask you this-- does it feel like you’re in love with him? Just--”

“Yes,” you say softly, interrupting him. As soon as you say it, your brain is swarming with reasons you don’t, doubts, and so many too-logical things-- but for once, you shove them off. “Yeah, it does.”

“Then there you go.” Changbin attempts to look gruffly happy for you for just a second, but it’s too hard to keep the proud smile off his face. “So, do you actually have a Stats test to talk about, or no?”

You want nothing more than to rush out of the cafe to find Felix, wherever he is, but you suppose that you don’t live in some cliche drama. You live in the real world, where it’s very difficult to get the attention of Changbin and his math skills, and so, you pull out your paper.

Even the red mark on it, can’t dull the soft flutters in your heart.

As it turns out, it’s actually very hard to find Felix when he doesn’t want to be found. You search everywhere-- the library, Chan’s house, Felix’s house, even Seungmin’s house, where you’re met with a confused frown. And all to no avail; no matter where you go, no one seems to have seen Felix all day.

Exhausted, you sit down on the swings, alone at the park for what seems like the first time in forever. It’s strange how lonely you feel, just because you aren’t next to the boy you’ve come so accustomed to always seeing; with a start, you realize how many of your happiest memories involve Felix.

Winning the trivia competition together, your first dance, skipping the dance to listen to music in Minho’s car-- you could go on for ages. Exhaling softly, you stare up at the sky.

“Y/N?”

You sit up immediately, but groan at the jolt of pain you get at twisting your neck so suddenly. However, there he is-- Felix, standing just a few feet away from you with his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

You blurt out, “I know what you mean.”

“What I mean...?” he asks.

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to figure out the best way to clarify what you mean, but all you come up with is, “I’m in love with you. Totally in love with you.”

“Oh.” The biggest smile makes its way onto Felix’s face, bright and beaming even without much light to illuminate it. Your heart melts. “Really?”

“Yeah. Really. I’m undyingly in love with you, Lee Felix,” you declare. It feels right, it really does; it feels truer than anything else you’ve ever said. 

You just grin at each other, you on the swings and Felix standing still just a few feet away. It might be awkward, but...

There’s nothing else to say.

[thechangeling]

She burns like rum on a fire

Why did I do this to myself ughhhhh?

So @adoravel-fenomeno and I were talking about Kit potentially getting into an abusive relationship given that he's statistically likely too given his roots. So now I give you this fic! Sorry. Kit is using he/him in this fic because he hasn't really gone on his gender quest yet.

The title is from Cherry Wine by Hozier. I reccomend you listen to Cherry Wine and Trauma by NF while reading this.

Cw: Mentions of physical and verbal abuse, abusive, controlling behavior, negative self talk and extreme denial. Also brief mention of blood.

2013

Don't cry.

Don't cry Kit told himself over and over inside his head as he tried to get a hold of his breathing. As he lay on his bed at 2 in the morning, desperately refreshing his conversation with Autumn.

Autumn or as his best friend Janessa liked to call her "the virus" was Kit's girlfriend. His very first. A mundane with the sight. They had been dating for a few months now. When they had first gotten together everything was amazing, it so it seemed.

They had some much in common and they had fun together. Autumn was hot, funny and charasmatic. She had this way of making him feel like the only person in the room. She showered him with gifts and complements that made Kit finally feel worthy for the first time in his life.

But as time went on things shifted. Autumn insisted on spending almost ever waking second with him. Kit didn't mind at first, he loved hanging out with her. But he missed his parents and his sister, and he knew they missed him too. Whenever they had family movie night, or they wanted Kit to watch Mina, Autumn threw a fit. She insisted that he was ignoring her.

She didn't want him seeing Janessa either, or Nessie as Kit called her for short. Autumn always insisted that she was plotting to steal Kit away from her, which was ridiculous but nothing could change Autumn's mind when she was in a mood. So Kit had found himself blowing Nessie off to hang out with Autumn and making excuses for it.

Kit always felt super guilty for making Autumn so upset. He tried to get out of his agreements if it to stop her from crying but sometimes Tessa and Jem wouldn't let him. It was frustrating when they didn't understand. She would rage for awhile, calling Kit stupid and worthless. Sometimes she would make comments about him being adopted, telling him that Tessa and Jem didn't really love him and they only saw him as a free babysitter for their real child.

She would make jokes about all kinds of things. How Kit wasn't a real shadowhunter, his weight, his past, his bisexuality, his ADHD. Kit knew that Autimn didn't really mean anything by it. It was nothing personal and she didn't really mean it. She loved him. And he loved her.

Tonight had been different though. His grades had taken a turn for the worst because he had been blowing of the tutoring sessions the school had payed for as a part of his accommodations. Because he had been spending that time with Autumn. Kit knew it was a bad idea to miss those, but his girlfriend needed him. She didn't have anybody else. She couldn't count on her parents like he could, and she didn't really have any friends.

But Kit was in big trouble. Tessa and Jem were mad. The school was mad. People were saying that Kit was ungrateful.

Ah yes because every disabled person should just bend down and kiss the feet of every person that deigns to give them what they're legally entitled to.

But Kit knew that he had really screwed up this time. He tried to explain to Autumn that he couldn't see her as often as he used to anymore because he needed to fix his grades. And she absolutely lost it. Which he had been expecting.

However what Kit hadn't been expecting this time was for her to hit him.

And she hit him hard. Punched him straight in the nose. And sure it wasn't that big of a deal. Kit was a shadowhunter and he was pretty much used to being hit. But he hadn't been expecting it.

And there was just so much blood.

Autumn of course instantly apologized profusely. She kissed him over and over and told him that she loved him and she didn't mean to. And Kit knew she was telling the truth but-

But he still felt a sinking feeling in his chest that he couldn't explain.

But Kit had applied an iratze, wiped off the blood, and now everything was as good as new. When he had arrived back home, his parents had noticed anything or asked him any questions.

Now he was lying awake at 2 in the morning, filled with guilt and worry as he waited for Autumn to text him back. He gnawed on his bottom lip anxiously as he tried not to over think things.

Maybe she was still mad at him? Was there something else Kit was supposed to say or do? Or maybe he should just leave her alone for awhile?

It was maddening.

Kit turned off his phone and threw it down in frustration, pulling his giant red and black flannel over his shoulders and curling in on himself. He felt strangely exhausted, but unable to sleep. His nose and left eye socket still throbbed a little despite the fact that they should be healed.

Kit thought about using another iratze but his steele was across the room and he couldn't bring himself to stand up to go get it.

God he really was pathetic. Maybe he deserved this. Tears welled up in Kit's eyes.

Don't cry. Don't cry.

This time Kit couldn't hold it back. So he let himself cry. Tears came streaming down his cheeks as he tried to muffle his sobs with his hand. Deep down he knew it was his fault. It was always his fault.

But with Autumn he had really tried. Sure he wasn't perfect but Kit really cared about her. And it wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough.

Kit couldn't help but think of the last time he felt like this. The last time he was rejected. He had been careful about trying to keep all thoughts of Ty Blackthorn out of his head for awhile. Autumn was a good distraction, even when she was screaming obscenities at him. It was still a distraction.

Kit closed his eyes and conjured the memory of holding Ty up on the roof. If he squeezed his eyes tightly enough, Kit could still feel the softness of his hoodie and the slight tickle of Ty's dark hair against his skin. He could conjure the smell of Ty's skin and the way he had trembled slightly against Kit's body.

I should have kissed him. Kit mused, hugging himself tightly. Just once. Even if Ty had pushed him away in disgust, it would have been worth it. Just to know what it felt like.

Suddenly from the bottom of the bed, Kit's phone lit up with a call. He scrambled to grab it, thinking it was Autumn, but it was actually Janessa. Kit cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound normal as he answered the phone.

"Why are you calling me at 2 am Nessie?"

"The better question is why are you still awake at 2 am," she pointed out, sounding smug. "I'm a vampire. Creature of the night remember? It's kinda prime time for me Kit Kat."

Kit smiled as he felt the previous angst wash away. "Yeah fair enough. But still, why are you calling me?"

Kit heard her sigh into the phone. "Well honestly because this is probably the only time you're free now a days," she said spitefully. "You know thanks to she-who-must-not-be-named." Kit rolled his eyes.

"That's my girlfriend you're talking about, Janessa!" He snapped.

"Well your girlfriend's a total bitch!"

Normally Kit would argue with her and tell her that she was way off base. That Autumn wasn't so bad and that she was trying. That she loved him. But today he just couldn't.

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "We got into another fight tonight," he admitted. "Just a few hours ago actually."

"I'm sorry love," Janessa murmed. Nessie wasn't British. She was actually Canadian. But she had moved around the world with her previous band before settling in Devon and leaving them to go solo. She had picked up on some British expressions though.

"I wish you weren't going through this. But Kit, you gotta break up with her! She's bad news!"

Kit rested his face against the palm of his left hand. "I can't," he groaned.

Janessa let out a frustrated yell on the other end of the phone. "What the hell are you planning on doing Kit!? I mean are you just gonna wait into she hits you or what?" She spat.

"She already did," Kit responded instantly without missing a beat.

He gasped and slapped a hand to cover his mouth. Kit had no idea why he actually told her. Impulsivity maybe? Or maybe he just needed to get it out. But he instantly regretted it.

There was a long uncomfortable silence on the other end of the phone. Kit was just about to ask Janessa where she went when suddenly she spoke.

"I'm coming over."

Kit tried to protest but she hung up on him.

Before he had time to panic or scream or throw something, there was an aggressive tapping on his window. Of course. Janessa had vampire speed. He looked up to see Nessie perched on his windowsill looking solem.

Her long black curly hair was pulled into a high ponytail and she wore what by her standards was probably a casual outfit. A black long sleeved low cut crop top and white ripped skinny jeans tucked into thigh high heeled leather boots. And of course, she wore a full face of makeup. Even after the facial feminization surgery she was still a little insecure about going out without makeup on.

Nessie banged on his window again, more impatiently and Kit jumped up to let her in. She landed on his bedroom floor with the grace of a cat, making no sound. She stared at him silently with an expression that Kit found hard to decipher.

"Show me where," she whispered in that deep raspy voice of hers. She reached for his face and Kit let Janessa cradle his face with her hands and tried not to wince as her cold skin came into contact with his.

He shook his head. "No you won't see it, I put an iratze on it already. It's done." Janessa scoffed and stepped back.

"You know the damage isn't just skin deep Kit," she said pointedly. "No matter how much you want to pretend it is."

He glared at her. "Wow that's so insightful Nessie!," he said sarcastically. "What else you got?"

"Oh come on Kit you know I'm right," She hissed. "You have to end it!"

Kit shook his head. Why does she keep saying that?

"No. Why should I?" Kit retorted. "She loves me." He tried to sound as confident as he could, but truthfully he wasn't so sure anymore.

Autumn had gone above and beyond to make Kit feel loved and appreciated yo the point where she was almost obsessive. But she could also be cruel and spiteful. Kit had convinced himself that he should be happy with what he had because it was as good as he was gonna get.

And the sad part was that was still true.

"No she doesn't," Janessa breathed desperately. To Kit's horror, it looked like she was about to cry. Kit couldn't remember if he had ever seen her cry. Not once.

"Somebody who really loved you could never hurt you like that!" She protested shakily, her voice warbled as tears spilled down her face.

Kit could feel his tears returning at the sight of Nessie crying. He rushed towards her and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her neck. In the comfort of his best friend's embeace he allowed himself to finally sob. He cried for that broken niave part of himself that kept getting hurt.

She rested her chin on the top of his head, (she was taller then him,) and held him close. "Please promise me you will break up with her," Janessa begged.

"I just don't get it," Kit whispered against her skin. "I did everything right. I did everything I could." He blinked back tears. "Why doesn't she love me Nessie?"

He felt her shake against him. "I don't know Kit," she sobbed. "But I love you ok? I love you and your parents love you, and Mina loves you so much!"

Kit sighed, pulling back to wipe his tears. "I know, but what if I, you know-. What if I never find someone? Like romantically?"

Janessa studied him, raising her eyebrow. "Well do you need to find someone? Who is this arbitrary someone who can give you something a friendship can't?"

That's actually a good point.

"I mean," Nessie continued, crossing her arms and shifting her weight. "If you do end up in a relationship then cool, it's whatever. But the way I see it is you shouldn't focus all of your energy on looking because you're gonna end up missing out on some pretty cool stuff in the mean time." She smiled.

Kit thought about it. He knew logically Janessa had a point. But he just couldn't feel it. He was too depressed and defeated. And as ashamed as it made him, Kit still missed Autumn. He tried to smile along with Nessie but it must have looked weak because she looked concerned.

"Hey," she cooed, reaching for him.

"Can you sing to me Nessie?" He asked. Kit  felt a little pathetic but hopefully she wouldn't judge him.

She smiled lovingly at him. "Sure." Janessa took his hand and led him to his bed.

"Any requests?" She asked as she pulled off her boots and lay down on Kit's bed. He followed her, snuggling up against Nessie with his back to her.

"No not really," he murmered, closing his eyes. Kit was finally starting to feel how exhausted he really was.

Janessa wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, resting her head slightly against his shoulder. "Ok," she whispered very softly.

Kit heard her clear her throat softly before the sound of her breathy angelic alto filled his ears.

"I'm turning out the lights, to remember how to see. Till the renaissance takes place, Until a renaissance takes place, and resuscitates the color of paint and divinity."

Kit smiled sleepily at the sound of his enneagram song, something Janessa had introduced him to.

He yawned and let the sound of Nessie's voice lull him to sleep, putting all thoughts of Autumn behind him.

In my head Kit is like 5'4 and Janessa is 5'9. Originally I had her at 5'11 but I wanted her to be closer in height to Kit. Also did I name Kit's abusive girlfriend Autumn after my toxic controlling ex best friend? You bet I did!

Tag list: (you know the deal) @playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies   @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @clarys-heosphoros @queenlilith43 @arangiajoan @hardlymatters @the-wckd-powers @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @adoravel-fenomeno

[delos-mio]

Out of the Woods - College!AU - PART 1

A/N: Welp, here it is! Part 1 of my silly little AU for my favorite silly little king. I really hope I can do him justice and I greatly appreciate any comments and questions you may have! No major triggers- only implied drug use, drinking, allusion to sexy stuff. So, without further ado..

If you had to gaze into a crystal ball at the beginning of the year, this would not have been the future you expected to see. You didn’t plan on being unhoused, stuck in an idle relationship, and debating dropping out of school all together. But here you were, trying your very best to pick up the pieces, salvage what little motivation to carry on that you had left. It could have been worse. It could have been much worse, at least that’s what you kept telling yourself to keep from crumbling entirely. You were never one to back down though, and these few hurdles sure as hell weren’t going to be the thing to break you. At least one of your problems was solved.

You had just emptied the last of the boxes left from moving and were hanging up the rest of your clothes when there was a soft knock on your door. Genya popped her head in, smiling brightly.

“Hey. I was just making sure you were getting settled ok,” she said.

“Yeah, I’m just about done unpacking I think.” You sat down next to her on the edge of your bed. “Thanks again for letting me live here. You have no idea how much you saved his ass,” you laughed.

“Don’t mention it! I’m happy to have someone else here, honestly.” She seemed to mean it, so you decided not to keep groveling. “Anyways, I just had a friend text me about a party tonight if you wanted to go?”

Your party days were almost entirely behind you. Freshman and Sophomore year were a haze of booze and recreational drugs, leading to you almost flunking out of school on more than one occasion. You’d since cleaned up your act, for the most part, and found you way back on the Dean’s list. But...it was a Friday afterall. And you’d just spent all day moving and contemplating your entire life- did that not earn a beer or two?

“Yeah, ok. Ok. That sounds good,” you said with a nod.

“Awesome! I think we’re meeting there around 10ish, so I’ll come grab you to get ready in a little bit.”

“Get ready? Are we 18 and going to our first frat party?” you joked, making Genya laugh.

“I was thinking about it more so as a roomie bonding activity, but if you wanna be a brat…” she drawled, trying to keep the smile off her face.

“Come back in an hour,” you finally sighed. Genya looked simply delighted as she exited, very clearly planning out looks for you both in her head.

As you went to finish up organizing your closet, you felt the familiar buzz of your phone in your pocket.

Matt: u coming over tonight?

You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back in your skull. That probably shouldn’t happen when you get a text from your boyfriend.

Y: can’t, sorry. Going out with Genya M: ok- have fun. Make good choices. Y: wtf does that mean M: just to make good choices? Jesus does everything have to be a fight? Y: i’m not trying to fight omg Y: i’ll just talk to you later M: k

K. He had some fucking nerve.

---

Across campus, Nikolai wasn’t having much better of an evening.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes." Aleks's tone was final; Nikolai knew there was no point in trying to bargain with him at this point.

"Jesus, fine." Nikolai’s fate had been decided and it was now mandatory that he go to the Delta Chi party that night. And here he had been looking forward to a quiet evening alone with his guitar and journal...

"It'll be fun, you sad sack. And I really want you to meet Alina," Aleks chastised.

"I didn’t know you missed my irreplaceable company quite this much."

Aleks gently threw a pencil across the table at his head. "Maybe you'll even catch a new fish of your own, huh?" he said with an obnoxious smirk. Nikolai just chuckled, nodding noncommittally before heading off to his bedroom.

It's not that he didn’t want to go. Well, he didn’t, really. But normally, he would. It’d been about a month since he called it off with the girl he met in Statistics. And it's not like he even missed her all that much- he knew she wouldn’t be around long from the start. But he was still stuck in the “mope in his room, write songs about heartbreak” phase of his healing. Because of such, he hadn't felt like partying much lately, but he’d blown off Aleks the last 3 weekends...he wasn't going to let Nikolai say no again.

Nikolai figured the least he could do is try and look presentable. It was unlike him to spend as much time in sweats as he had; his sense of style had always been impeccable. He was a man who knew he was handsome and knew the best way to broadcast just that. He pulled out tight black jeans and paired them with a powder blue button down with the sleeves rolled up, maybe a couple of the top buttons left undone. He pushed his golden hair back out of his hazel eyes and scrutinized himself in the mirror. To his horror, he looked like he hadn't had a good night of sleep in a week, which was true. Overall, it could have been better, but it could be worse. With a sigh, he grabbed his phone and keys before going out to find Aleks.

They got to the Delta Chi house, and there were already a few guys passed out on the lawn. Nikolai wasn’t surprised, but it was only 10:30. They must have been freshmen. Aleks lead the way to the porch where a petite dark haired girl turned around and beamed at them.

"You're late!" she says with a clearly fake pout. Aleks leaned in to kiss it away and Nikolai looked everywhere but at them.

"Sorry, sorry, I know. Miss Princess here had to be dragged out of his cave," he laughed at his expense. "Alina, this is Nikolai. Nikolai, Alina."

"Nice to finally meet you," Alina smiled. She's cute, he can give Aleks that.

"I’ll have you know I was not in a cave. I was waxing poetic about love lost, heartbreak and what have you,” Nikolai smirked as Alina laughed.

"Genya and her new roommate are already inside," Alina said, grabbing Aleks's hand.

Thank god. Not that he didn't want to spend time with them or get to know Alina, but he didn't really want to watch them suck face and play third wheel all night. Genya had been a friend of theirs since Freshman year- she smoked them down at a random dorm party and she'd been part of the gang ever since. Nikolai pushed through the crowd and made it along with Aleks and Alina to the kitchen. There were fewer people back here and Nikolai felt like he could breathe again.

"Nik," Genya chirped and threw her hands up excitement. "He lives!"

"You saw me Wednesday," Nikolai laughed. “But, I understand. Aleks was desperate for his company too. It must have been unbearable without me.”

"I really didn't think Aleks would get you to come," she said with an easy grin. Genya handed him a cup of what he assumed was beer. "Doesn't matter. You're here now."

They all circled up and chatted for a minute. For once in his life, Nikolai felt like he was noticeably quiet, but he found he didn’t have much to add. They didn’t want to hear about how he managed to cook a meal TWICE last week. Or how he’d written probably a dozen songs, all of them dogshit. Genya was grinning at a story their friend William was telling when she looked over his shoulder and motioned for someone to join them.

"Guys! Guys! This is my new roommate," Genya said. Ah yes, the new roommate. How could Nikolai forget?

New Roommate had wedged themselves into the circle two people away from Nikolai. He looked up from his cup and immediately locked eyes with you. Honestly, the name should have tipped him off. He never, ever thought he’d see you again. There's no way you possibly remember him, right? God, you were still so beautiful.

"Nikolai?" you asked with a tight voice, eyes jumping all around his face. And it's right about then that Nikolai wished he got a little more beauty sleep. Here you were, practically glowing, while he looked like the walking dead.

"Hey," he breathed out. It sounded a lot more desperate than he meant it to, but you always have had that effect on him.

"You guys know each other?" Aleks interjected.

"It's uh, it's been a few years, but yeah," you said with a blush, looking down into your cup. Aleks and Genya both looked at Nikolai with a raised eyebrow. He could feel the sweat pricking along his brow. Fuck, now all eyes were on him...

"Maybe there's a spot open for beer pong. Let's go check it out." Thank you. Subtle, Genya. "You guys can catch up," Genya said walking past you and patting Nikolai on the shoulder. The rest of his friends followed suit and Nikolai was left alone with you, staring not so subtly.

You hadn’t grown an inch. You’d lost the bright red glasses too. But, god, you were still the most gorgeous creature Nikolai had ever laid his eyes on. Really, he couldn't have lost his virginity to a hotter person.

It's your typical boy-meets-girl story. Nikolai first saw you at the rink where he played hockey in high school. Your parents owned the building and seeing as such, you were employed as the kid behind the concession stand. Nikolai remembered the first time he saw you, he thought you looked like a dork. A very hot dork, but a dork all the same. Nikolai began to notice you watching him in particular during practice, which just further flustered his raging teen hormones.

One night, after everyone else had left practice, Nikolai stayed behind and introduced himself to you. He’d never seen such a beautiful mouth and he had to resist the urge to kiss you right then and there. It became habit that he stay after practice and lean against the counter to shamelessly flirt with you. You often had the rink to yourselves by that time, so Nikolai felt like he could really be himself during those hours. He was still figuring out his place in the world and had stuck-up parents who would never approve of him taking you home. But in the lowlights of the concourse, he was allowed to have a crush on you.

Flirting led to making out behind the counter. Making out behind the counter led to hand stuff in your beat up purple van once you locked up for the night. Hand stuff led to him fucking you in the locker room shower. It was both of your first time and it could have been much less hurried. But you were young and inexperienced and horny as fuck and still exploring sexuality. You kept that arrangement up for the next few months until the season ended and Nikolai left that fall for school. He felt like a dick for not saying goodbye to you. It's not in his nature to ghost. It just isn't. He thinks maybe he was still scared of what it all "meant" and how much he really liked you. Maybe this was the universe telling him to make things right with you and make things right for himself.

"Hey, stranger," you said with a lopsided grin. Fuck. Nikolai was so done for if you kept looking at him like that.

"Hey yourself." And Nikolai couldn't help himself when he reached out to you to pull you in a tight embrace. Lucky him, you didn’t push him away and call him a fucking asshole; he thought he would have deserved that. You buried your face into his neck and the hot little puffs of air were doing way more to him than they should. You parted just enough to get a good look at each other.

"You look good," you said with a dark edge to your voice, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. He knew very well what he looked like that night, but you seemed to mean the compliment.

"You look better," he replied earnestly, because it was true. It shouldn't have been this easy to fall right back into things. But it was always different with you. Sometimes, he still thought you were the only one that really understood him without him having to say a word.

"Nikolai Lantsov, you always were a little flirt," you laughed. Your eyes crinkled at the corner and Nikolai thought to himself how beautiful you are when you’re playful. You’re always beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to whisk you away and have you alone. This time, he wouldn’t fuck it up. He wouldn’t let you go. You must have noticed his brain going into overdrive because you say "What's going on up there? What ya thinking?" You pushed a rogue lock of golden hair away from his face.

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"I'm thinking about how much I wish we weren't at a frat party right now. I'm thinking about how I want to be selfish and have you all to myself," Nikolai said low so only you could hear. You laughed a little to yourself and looked at him with sparkling eyes.

"I'm not stopping you," you drawled. Fuck. Fuck, ok. This was really happening.

"Let me tell the guys we're leaving and then do you maybe want to get some food?" Nikolai asked hopefully. You just nodded coyly with a small smirk.

"I'll meet you out front." You squeezed his hand once and started pushing your way through the sea of bodies.

Nikolai ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath before nearly running down to the basement, eager to say goodbye and make his way back to you. Genya, Aleks, Alina, and William were playing each other, a beer pong table stretching between their pairs.

"Where's your old friend?" Genya asked with a shit eating grin.

"We're um. We're actually gonna head out. So, I guess I'll—" but he was immediately cut off by Aleks.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Nik, are you leaving with a girl?" he teased.

"Yes. I am." Nikolai looked at him defiantly.

"How do you guys know each other anyways?" Bill asked before launching a shot.

"Just from growing up. High school or whatever," Nikolai mumbled.

"Cmon..." Genya begged.

"Wouldn’t you love to know," he said, voice laced with snark. "I just came down here to say we're fucking leaving!"

"Well then you better not keep your girl waiting," Genya said with a silent kiss in his direction. Nikolai just flipped her off and took his leave.

When he got outside, you were waiting with your hands in your pockets at the bottom of the porch steps. He smiled wide at you and offered a hand, which you seemed happy to take.

"So, are they gonna give me a bunch of shit next time I see them?" you asked as you walked hand in hand to the little strip of 24 hour restaurants on the outskirts of campus.

"Probably. Nothing you can't handle," Nikolai winked. You laughed then a little giggle. It's such a familiar sound and just like that, Nikolai was transported back to the ice rink and you giggling between kisses behind the snack bar.

You made it to one of his favorite delis in town and he offers to buy you a sandwich, which of course you tried to refuse his offer. Nikolai simply won't hear it. He had 5 years of douche baggery to make up for and insisted. You finally conceded and thanked him with the sweetest smile Nikolai had ever seen. You found a table in the corner, away from the door and prying eyes.

"So, how'd you meet Genya?" Nikolai asked.

"We have a writing class together. And we got to talking and became friends. I needed to find a new place cause my old roommate had to drop out and move home. I couldn't afford the place on my own. And I mean, you know how Genya is," you laughed, "I told her all about it one day in class and she offered me a room at her place without batting an eye."

"That does sound like Genya," Nikolai nodded.

"I've only been there like, two hours. But it's been good so far. Genya's been super cool," you said with a smile.

"I can't believe that we've been at the same school this whole time and it's taken this long to find each other," Nikolai said, mostly to himself, but you heard him and reached across the table to grab one of his hands.

"But we did find each other eventually, yeah?" You ran your thumb over his knuckle.

"Yeah," he said, suddenly bashful. Nikolai was seldom flustered. He had nerves of steel and had confidence to spare on his worst days. But you. You cut through him, all the way down to the core, and that made him nervous.

"So," you started, "Tell me about everything Nikolai Lantsov. Surely you've been up to something the last few years."

"Not much interesting to tell," he shrugged. "Been studying history. Writing music here and there to keep myself occupied."

"Girlfriend?"

"Who wants to know?" he asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Shut up," you mumbled into your soda. He doesn't miss the blush that's spreading over your cheeks.

"No. No girlfriend." he paused, considering how honest to be. But fuck it, he owed you candor. "I actually broke up with a girl a little over a month ago." You looked back up at him then, your eyes searching presumably for whether or not Nikolai was still torn up about it. "She wasn’t...she wasn’t right for mw and I guess I was just done. I feel like I should still be sad about it or whatever, but I'm not. I don't miss her. The wallowing and self reflection has been great writing fodder though," he said with a laugh.

"I'm sorry, Nik. You don't deserve that."

"Don't I?" Nikolai looked at you and suddenly felt torn open. "I...I'll never forgive myself for what I did to you." You bit down on your lip and looked out the window. "I regretted leaving you, god, and like a fucking asshole. I regretted leaving you so much. I know saying I'm sorry isn't even close to enough. But god, I'm so fucking sorry." He knew there were tears threatening to fall from his eyes, but he swallowed them down best he could.

"I'm not going to act like it didn't hurt me. Because it really, really did. But I accept your apology, Nik. You know I could never stay mad at you." You paused for a minute before looking at Nikolai with a tiny fire in your eyes. "You know, I'm pretty sure I was in love with you back then."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I don’t think I ever stopped loving you," He said confidently. Your jaw dropped just for a moment before you're giving him that sexy grin that apparently still drives him absolutely crazy.

"Still?” Nikolai just smirked. "What if you don't know me anymore?" you asked and sucked at the straw in your soda.

"I'd like to." There's a shift in the air between you. Nikolai was sure you could both feel it. It was suddenly too warm in the restaurant and there's too much table separating you. He decided to take his chance. “How do you feel about going back to my place?”

You suddenly seemed very interested in your nail beds, picking anxiously at the skin. “You didn’t ask me if I was seeing anyone.”

Nikolai stalled. He didn’t. You asked about his relationship status and he was so absorbed with letting you know that he was, in fact, single, that he didn’t bother to ask if you were even available. Hadn't you been flirting all night? He'd certainly been flirting. But like you said, maybe he didn't know you anymore. Maybe this was just how you were these days. “Are you...are you seeing someone?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. Maybe it was his own wishful thinking, him hearing the resignation in your voice. Not that he wanted you to be unhappy. No, you deserved the world and he wanted nothing more than for you to have the sun and the moon and the stars. But, maybe there was still a chance for him yet. “His name is Matt. We’ve been together for like, a year or so.”

“Matt.” He let the name burn his tongue. “You love him?”

“Nik…” you warned.

“Just a question.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Just my two cents here,” Nikolai started, leaning back into the booth, “But you deserve to be with someone you can gush about. Someone who when you get asked if you love them, you don’t think twice and say ‘they’re the love of my life!’”

“And you don’t think that’s him?” you said, huffing. “You think that’s you?”

“There’s a chance,” he smirked. “All that aside, I’m very glad fate has brought us together again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed. “I missed you too.” You looked at your phone quickly. “Shit, I should get going. I have a shift at 9 tomorrow.”

“Let me walk you home,” Nikolai insisted, standing from the booth and helping you into your jacket.

“Always such a gentleman,” you smiled, tapping him gently on the nose before walking ahead of him.

The walk to your and Genya’s place felt too short. Nikolai had made this trek, both intoxicated and sober, and it always seemed much longer. But now he was at your front door, hands shoved in his pockets as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. “If you don’t want to hang out again, I understand, but I need you to tell me now if you think it’s a bad idea,” he rushed out.

“Of course I want to see you again,” you said, rolling your eyes. “So dramatic. We can still be friends, right?”

“We can be best friends,” he smiled.

“I’m glad I ran into you tonight.”

“Likewise.”

You were both clearly just trying to prolong the evening at this point. Nikolai took it upon himself to put you both out of your misery and pulled you into his arms again. You gripped his torso tightly, melting your body against his. He held you close, both strong arms wrapped around your shoulder while he tucked your head under his chin. After a moment, he pulled back enough to leave a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Get some sleep,” he whispered, his breathing a little hard.

“Ok,” you croaked, nodding. Nikolai stepped out of your space then, squeezing your hand one last time before walking back out to the sidewalk, waiting and watching to make sure you got inside safely.

[eideticmemory]

FINE LINE 3 | SPENCER REID

Two decades of history and two kids later, you and your ex-husband learn to navigate the world of co-parenting. Part 3! Read Part 2 Here!

If you saw typos, no you didn’t ❤️

Word Count: 3,165.

Warning: Daddy issues, mommy issues, angst, romance, drama, yay!

PART 3: EDEN

Eden Penelope Reid was conceived on the twenty-sixth of September, on a ugly, yellow couch in the BAU briefing room. Not two feet from the roundtable! You didn’t mean for it to happen. The sex . . . or the baby. But they were both the result of a dark, disturbing case, sleep deprivation, a long plane ride back to DC, and an encounter in a dark room after everyone had gone home. 

Spencer placed a long and slimy kiss to your lips, almost like he had been holding it from you for days. You stepped back, jolted, and you would’ve fallen backwards had Spencer not had his arms around you. 

“What on earth are you doing?” you whispered, your voice still laced with shock and surprise. 

“Wha — what do you mean . . . ?” Spencer asked, genuine confusion plastered over that pretty face of his. “I thought that’s why we came in here?” 

“Oh, my goodness, I came in here to grab my things and go home, Hugh Hefner, where is your mind?”

“My mind’s on you,” he murmured, nuzzling your body into his, pressing his lips to your cheek. “Always.”

“Hm,” you hummed, your eyes fluttering closed as he gave you a dreamy kiss. “You’ve always had that verbal thing . . . quick mind, soft lips. You could talk your way into anything, Spencer Reid.”

“Yeah?” he mumbled, his lips pressed feverishly  to yours. “Anything?”

“Yeah . . . anything.” 

Stepping out of the shower and drying off, surrounded by the scent of fresh lavender, you wrapped yourself in a cotton towel. Your outfit was laid across the bed, from the top to the pants to the black flats. It felt a little morbid, as if you were staring at a dress made for a funeral. But, God, let’s face it, you’re just being dramatic. 

You tied your hair up, and dropped the towel to your toes, warmth caught under the surface. As you took your shirt between your fingers, your bedroom door swung open with an intense creak, and you jumped out of your skin. 

“Ah!” You screamed, hugging the fabric against your body, crouching down to hide any and every inch of your figure. “Spencer!”

“Whoa!” He crowed, immediately backing out of the room. “Sorry!”

“What the hell?” You shouted. You hugged the shirt, pressing it to your chest, your torso, one arm outstretched to cover your legs. 

“I’m sorry, [y/n], I thought you were dressed!”

“Yeah, right . . . pervert. What are you doing here? I’m meeting you at the office in an hour.”

“I told you I was dropping by in the morning.”

“So?”

“So . . . here I am.”

“Sorry, I’m just not used to you being somewhere when you say you are, my mistake.” 

He shook his head to himself, chin ducked down to avert his eyes, “I came to ask if you’d like a ride this morning? After we drop the kids off?”

“A ride?” You responded, quickly dressing yourself to maneuver an icky, uncomfortable situation. “We’re carpooling to therapy?”

“If you want,” he shrugged. “Thought we could get breakfast, maybe.”

You scoffed, and rolled your eyes as you marched towards the door. Prepared to confront Spencer with a bit of sass and sarcasm, you were taken aback by the sight of him. Early in the morning, hair perfectly curled around his face, and he was dressed in a wrinkle-free, perfectly pressed black suit. Like the ones you used to buy for him, just to see the way he moved in them. 

“I think I’ll pass,” you told him. “I told the kids I’d take them to school today, and they’ve already got their hearts set on getting Dunkin’ this morning, so . . .”

“So, I’ll see you at the office,” he nodded, solemnly. 

You returned the nod with a gentle motion of your head, and as you turned to walk off, Spencer aligned beside you, ultimately following you through the hall. “You look good,” he said. You didn’t respond, just released a silent exhale while focusing your attention forward. “It’s nice to know that . . . some things are still as nice as I remember.”

You laughed -- head thrown back, mouth open, the sound erupting like a volcano. “It’s not,” you explained, looking him in the eye as you approached the stairs. “It’s better.”

Four weeks after Eden Penelope Reid was conceived, you were in Texas, a small town outside of Austin haunted by a head of murders throughout the area. You can’t remember specifically what the town was called because you were so, fucking, sick. You woke up with a headache, nausea threatening to spill by the second, and a stomach ache that wouldn’t kick it. It was bad. 

But you know how to put on a Brave Face. You pushed through, even with your husband’s voice echoing in your ear, close to your ear, his worried hand on your back. 

“[y/n],” he pleaded. “You’re sick, just — please.”

“Spencer, I’m fine. I’m up, I’m walking, that’s a good sign. I’m okay.” 

You visited a crime scene not fifteen minutes later. It was hot, very hot, suffocatingly hot, and you felt yourself. You felt yourself wobble on your heels. Felt the life just fall out of you, like gravity had sucked it into the Earth. Spencer called your name as your body fell. 

“Mom?” E called, the sound of the traffic blending in with her voice. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, hun,” you glanced at her, balancing your attention between E and the road. “Why?”

“You’ve been hitting your juul more than usual lately,” she explained. 

“What?” you gasped. “No, I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have. You’re driving with it in your hand right now!”

“On average, mom hits the juul 16 times an hour, but she’s just hit it seven times in the last five minutes,” Em added from the backseat.

“There. Statistics to back me up,” E gloated. 

“I’m fine!” you laughed. “Really. I’m more than fine.” 

“Really? So the sudden nicotine uptake has nothing to do with your super secret meeting with dad this morning?” E asked. 

“It is not a super secret meeting, it’s two parents, meeting for a discussion.” 

“Right . . . not secret at all.” She nodded. 

You sighed, “A secret is an awful thing to keep. You can ask your Aunt Emily about that one, but, you know I’d never keep a secret from you,” you smiled. 

“Right,” she nodded, suspicious at your sudden change in tone. “You sure you’re not keeping a secret, mom?”

“Are you profiling me?”

“Okay, enough with the profiling jokes.” 

“No. Why? Are you keeping a secret from me?” you piqued. It’s been buried. For almost a week now. E, and the boy, as you call him. For a few days, you just needed solitude, time to process and understand. After that, came the confrontational period, well, as confrontational as you get with Eden. Which means you dropped subtle hints until she just thought you were being weirded than usual. But now, she had reason to be suspicious that you were suspicious, and two suspicious Reid women don’t make a mix.

“No?” She responded, slowly, her eyebrow raising at you. “Why?”

“No?” You paused to take a breath. “Okay.” “What does that mean?” “Nothing.”

“Do you know something I don’t?” E asked, her arms now crossed over her chest. Not good. She’s defensive. E’s never defensive.

“See, that’s just the same as the secret thing we had going earlier,” you joked.

“Ugh,” E groaned. 

“What?”

“You always get like this,” she shook her head.

“Like what?” “Like this when dad comes around!”

You stopped the car, the brakes skidding to a halt at the school entrance. “Are you -- E, this isn’t about your dad, this is . . . about that boy. That boy that kissed you at your party. The boy who kissed my sixteen year old daughter on the cheek.” “What?” E snapped, sitting up in her seat.

Em slid out of the car, ran to class.

“I mean,” you rambled. “ I have an eidetic memory, E, I can’t unsee that!”

“See that . . . ?“ she whispered to herself. You could see the wires clicking in your head.  Her eyes widened, “You saw that? You saw --” She began to pack up her stuff, scrambling really, grabbing her iced coffee. 

“E --” you stuttered. “What are you doing? Hey, hey, talk to me.” “I’m late for school, mom, I’ll text you.”

“E --”

“Bye.” you were cut off by the sound of the  car door slamming in your face. If ‘what the fuck?’ could be a facial expression, you were wearing it right now. 

You had a concussion when the doctor told you about Eden Penelope Reid. You had fallen on the concrete, and couldn’t really see straight. You felt Spencer though. He was holding your arm and supporting your wobbling body with his since you’d hoped straight out of the hospital bed. 

“Congratulations, Mrs. Reid,” The doctor smiled at you.

“Huh? What? Congratulations?” You slurred, tired and confused and looking to your husband. 

“Oh, I’m . . . sorry, I thought of you . . .” After exchanging glances with Spencer, she sighed and beared another grin. “You’re . . . pregnant. About five weeks along.”

You fainted. Again. 

“Hey,” Spencer greeted you, following your fast footsteps with his eyes. 

You rounded the edge of the couch and took a seat beside him, huffing as you plopped down, only to give him a glance of acknowledgement.

“You’re late, I thought you got lost,” he said.

“Nope, just took the scenic route,” you grumbled. “Hi, I’m [y/n],” you directed at the therapist sitting across from you. She wore dark red lipstick and a matching blouse, her nails a deep purple over her slacks. Okay. Cool.

“Olivia Oliphant,” she nodded kindly. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Reid.” “Oh, just [y/n], please,” you told her. 

“Well, [y/n], Spencer here was just telling me about your kids.”

“Oh?” You looked at Spencer. “He was?”

“Yep, Eden and Emerson, beautiful names. How did you guys pick them?” 

When you were approximately five weeks pregnant with Eden Penelope Reid, you felt the most excruciating pain of your life. That’s including two rounds of childbirth, some beatings, a bullet wound.  You clamp down on your lower stomach, grasping for air as you collapsed to the floor, in the middle of a crowded police station. Penelope rushed to your side, calling your name, “Oh, my goodness, [y/n], what’s wrong? What’s wrong?” “I don’t --” you whimpered. “Something’s not -- ow! -- something’s not right!” Local PD helped you to your feet, a worried Garcia following behind them. “C--call Spencer!” You pleaded, although the phone was already to her ear.

Spencer had just been shot in the neck. 

They didn’t think he was going to make it. They didn’t think he was going to make it. You beat Derek, pounding your fists into his chest for not telling you sooner, broke down in the center of the waiting room.

But he did make it.

He made it, and he was right here. He was right here, and you were right here, and E was at school, mad at you, and it was eating you alive. Did you completely undo your ‘cool mom’ reputation with one meltdown? No, how could you? 

“[y/n]?” Dr. Oliphant called. 

You zoned back into reality, both Spencer’s and her concerned faces focused in on you. 

“Yes,” you cleared your throat. “Well, Eden is named after East of Eden by John Steinback, and . . . Emerson is named after Ralph Waldo Emerson.” 

“And,” she began. “Would you say your kids are your main reason for being in therapy?”

“Oh, wow, okay, just jumping into it, got it,” you huffed. 

Spencer was still eyeing you, worried and troubled. He knows you. He knows when you’re upset, and stressed, and he couldn’t stop staring at your nails. “Uh . . .” you hummed. “Hm? . . . hm? Would I say that there’s any other reason I’m in therapy for sixty minutes with my ex-husband? No.”

“[y/n].” Spencer spoke, turning his body full to you. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” you shook your head. 

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “ I haven’t heard that one before.”

“Yes, yes, yes, you’d ask what’s wrong, and I nothing’ed my way through our marriage and we got divorced. I know.” 

“Jesus,” he sighed, exasperated, pressing his palm to his forehead. 

An awkward silence floated throughout the room for what felt like hours. You stared at your shoes, and huffed. Lifting your head up to smile at Dr. Oliphant, you said, “And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

There was an earthquake in California the day Eden Penelope Reid was born. A magnitude of four. This would not have mattered in the slightest -- due to the fact that you were on the other side of the country -- but Spencer was there. In California, sitting in the dark, surrounded by broken glass when Eden was born. 

She came at night, after your water broke at the BAU headquarters. You spent hours of the day stumbling around a hospital room, waiting for Spencer to show. Penelope’s quick with a phone, she knew hours before you finally asked her.

“Penelope?” You whimpered, curled up in the bed with your hand pressed to your back. 

“Yes?” She pipped.

“Spencer’s not coming . . .” you turned to her. “Is he?”

“We’ve got to talk.”

You glanced over your shoulder, rolling your eyes, “Spencer, please.”

“[y/n], come on,” he pleaded. 

You looked him in the eye, sighing as you leaned back in your seat. You could hear the kids shuffling around upstairs, having just been dropped off by Spencer, who was stern and pressed. It was kind of funny. 

“I was in a bad mood,” you told him.

“Bad mood? [y/n], you sat there for forty-five minutes sipping your coffee every time Dr. Oliphant asked you a question so you couldn’t talk with a full mouth.”

“Bad mood . . .” you repeated, this time quieter, softer, to yourself. 

Spencer’s expression softened, almost instantly. “[y/n]?” he called. “What happened? You’ve been biting your nails, I know something’s wrong.”

You crumbled. You ran yours hands over your face and sobbed. From that moment Spencer and you saw E with that boy, you’ve been reliving it over and over. Trying to recognize his face, and it wasn’t until just last night that you realized it’s . . . Spencer. This boy looks just like Spencer, and you can’t even figure out how you feel about Spencer, -- who you didn’t meet until you were 23, by the way -- let alone this kid.

So how is E doing? How is she already so comfortable around him? And kissing. Have they kissed before? You don’t want to know. No. You do want to know. It’s all you want. You want the most important girl in your life to talk to you, to confide in you the way she did when she was seven years old. But now she’s sixteen and she won’t even look at you. 

“And of course, I found a way to blame it on you,” you paused to breath after a long rant. “Because, well, you’re here, which is still weird to me, but hey,” you shrugged, inhaling a hit from your juul. 

Spencer nodded his head understandingly, biting down on his to contain a smile. “Now, that . . . is how you should’ve spoken in therapy this morning.” He laughed. 

You chuckled, for the first time all day, and rolled your eyes, “Next time.”

“Next time?” He grinned. After connecting his eyes to yours, and seeing a glimmer of confirmation, he sat up, “Well, okay, cool. Then, next time I’ll tell you that you are the best mother on the planet. Raising the kids the way you did . . . you made Eden who she is. You made that incredible girl, and you shaped her into the slightly . . . stubborn girl she is today. She is her mother’s daughter, she just needs someone to push past the hardhead every once in a while.”

You exhaled, a slow, steady breath.

Spencer.

He stayed until Sunday afternoon. Just like he said he would. A whole day after you wandered into E’s room, full of fresh courage and love. You asked her if she was hungry, and she said no. By the time you left, you had a name. Sullivan.

“Sullivan?” You repeated. “Does he go by Sully?” You cackled.

“When he was six!” She shouted, a fit of giggles dribbling from her lips. “He goes by Van now.” “Oh, my goodness,” you feigned as though you were collapsing on the bed. “Van?”

“Yes! Hey, don’t judge! You married a guy named Spencer.”

“[y/n]! [y/n]? [y/n] --” Spencer’s voice lowered to immediately silence the moment he stepped into the room. Under the hospital lights, you laid on a bed, a tiny baby in your arms and a soft smile on your face.

“Don’t be shy now,” you giggled. “Come in.”

He stepped into the room, slowly, his breath shaky from running down the halls. “I--is, is this her?”

“No, I misplaced the actual baby, so they gave me a very life-like doll,” you smirked.

“Oh, baby,” he cooed, placing a million and one kisses to your forehead. “You’re incredible, you did -- incredible,” he held you close, looking down at the infant against your chest. “So, what’s her name? You did remember to pick one, didn’t you?”

“Yep, UnSub --”

“[y/n] . . .” he smiled.

You laughed, holding your child up to her father. “This . . . is Eden Penelope Reid.”

Spencer didn’t come out of his room for hours before he was set to leave on Sunday. As worried as you were, you kept to entertaining the kids in the living room. The two of them were snacking on some popcorn, watching a movie on netflix. Em was tucked underneath your arm, and you did your very, very best to focus in on the TV. But the moment you heard the hinge of his bedroom door, you sat up in your seat. 

He came down the steps in a stomping rage. Didn’t even come in to join you all, just called for you, “[y/n] . . . [y/n], can you come here, please?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, and stood to your feet, nervously eyeing the kids. “Be right back,” you told them, before walking out into the foyet. 

“Okay . . .” Spencer said, just above a quiet whisper. “Okay, okay . . .” He was trying to calm himself down. Pacing, muttering, hands on his hips.

“Spencer?” You walked up to him. “Hey, what’s the matter? Hey . . .”

“I’ve had . . . some time to process, some time to fully understand the information, but I know that you, haven’t, so I’m going to get to it . . . Catherine Adams is being injected tomorrow.”

Crickets. Silence. No sobs, no boo-hoos, nothing. “And?” You replied. “Are we throwing a party? Because that can be arranged.”

“And in exchange for her cooperation in multiple homicide investigations . . .” Spencer sighed, his head ducked down, hands in his pockets. “She gets a final request.”

You scoffed, rolled your eyes, “What does she want now? A night with you at the Ritz? Just give it to her at this point so she’ll kick the bucket.” 

“She wants to see Eden.”

“Wha --” The sound slipped out before you could catch it. Thoughts. Thoughts. Thoughts. So many. And all you could say was, “No. Absolutely-fucking-not . . . fuck!”

“[y/n] --”

“The psycho who had my daughter kidnapped wants to . . . meet her? She can go straight to hell, and suffer on the way there.” 

And that was the moment, Eden Penelope Reid stepped into the doorway, her hands stern at her side, her face brazen with courage and strength, “I want to do it.”

[avungerthatgotaway]

It all started when...

A/N: hey guys!! i'm back with new oneshot. this one includes mentions of bullying too. i have a lot of ideas about bullied reader, prolly cuz i was bullied myself, and i kinda find inspiration of it now😂

Summary: Russo brothers "host a show" for avengers cast, and they see beginings of cast in MCU.

Warnings: my broken humor (this is a HUGE warning), mention of bullying but not angsty way

Set anytime between Age of ultron and Infinity war.

You were at the show Russo brothers "hosted". It was basically occasional game between avengers cast they would post on youtube, but oh well.

There were: Evans, Mackie, Sebastian, Tom Hiddleston, Scar, RDJ, Renner, Hemsworth and you. As only teen actress on the team, everyone wanted to sit next to you. This time, however, you were between Seb and Tom. Evans was next to Seb, while Renner and Hemsworth were still bickering about who will sit next to Tom.

There was also a huge monitor across from huge sofa you were on.

Joe and Antony were yet to tell you what's going on.

"Soooo" Joe started after introducing everyone to camera. "tonight we are going to go to the beginnings of the avengers cast. Specifically events between employing them, and telling the world about their roles."

All of you looked confused, so Anthony continiued.

"MCU has a certain policy, where we do not allow actors to immidiately talk about their roles. So to ensure this for the lead role actors, we hire some kind of, let's say private detectives. They basically film you in public places, for evidence if you break the contract."

Everyone was staring at them in shock. You were shocked, how did you never notice?

"So, tonight we are gonna see a few funny incidents. Of course none of you told anything, you wouldn't be here tonight if you did."

"So let's start. Chris, you had hard time hiding your role from your brother Scott, didn't you?"

and the madness began

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|||||||timeskip cuz why not|||||||

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You just finished watching a particulary funny video, where Sebastian had to tell him mum he didn't get the role. She was threatening to beat up Russo brothers with a broomstick, claiming that "MY SEBBY IS THE BEST ONE THEY WILL EVER GET!".

The laughter died down, and they moved on.

"Y/N." Joe began. Ah, it was your time. You couldn't wait to see what do they have in store for you.

"You are the youngest of the avengers cast. You were 1st year of high school when you got this role, correct?"

"Yes." you said with a smile.

"We know that only you and one more girl from your town auditioned, and both got roles. Her role wasn't big, crossing the street in Spider Man movie. But yours is one of the most important. How did your friends find out you were both accepted?"

"Well, you posted actors statistics. And you wrote there were 2 kids from (your/hometown). You said one was the lead role, and other was not. They knew it was only us 2 on auditions, so it was pretty obvious. I didn't tell anything tho." you said. It wasn't easy speaking about other girl, since she was your biggest bully. But you didn't want to talk about that, so you went on with the story.

"We know you didn't. The other girl was very hard to cope with, from what we saw." on this Tom Hiddleston, Seb and 2 Chrises turned their heads towards you, faces laced with concern. You didn't look at them, hoping video wouldn't show too much. You never told your castmates about bullying, thinking you'd annoy them or something.

"Let's watch it, then." your train of toughts was stopped when Anthony turned on the big screen again, video starting to play.

You were in school, sitting on a bench with your friends, who were bothering you to admit that you got the lead role in MCU.

"But I didn't! I told you. I'm just an extra, what is so hard to believe in that?" you answered for 100th time that day. You couldn't tell them the truth, out of fear of getting fired before anything even started.

"Oh, nothing except that (your/bullys/name) got the lead role then." your b/f/n retorted.

"Cmon, Y/N, you really want us to believe that? That they would choose mindless, dumb bully instead if you." other friend of yours asked.

"How would they know she is bullying me? Why would they care after all, that's of none importance out there. But maybe she is better actress? Or they just like her better? There's nothing wrong with that."

Your friends didn't even get to answer that when (your/bully's/name) walked by, bragging about her lead mcu role (she didn't get) to anyone who wanted to listen. And there were plenty of people who wanted to. She knew you couldn't say anything, so she lied to everyone, saying she got the lead role. You and your friends cought a little bit of her "filming adventures". (filming wasn't even started then)

"...and then after Sebby showed up in my trailer, he kissed me so passionately. You see my make up is smeared, right? It was him."

"But didn't you say you got home yesterday afternoon?" one girl questioned.

"Oh, but he was just so passionate, I couldn't take it off. He texted me this morning, saying he couldn't take my lipstick off either. Tomorrow I have a kissing scene with Tom Hiddleston to shoot. And oh my God, that Chris Evans was just starring at me the WHOLE time. I think he likes me..." and their conversation faded away as they went on.

Your friends were giving you pointed looks.

"Okay can you now see why we don't believe you?" one of them asked.

You just stared helplessly at them,trying to think of an excuse.

"I'm just gonna. Go. Homework and some other stuff that I'm totally not using to get out of this conversation." you said, now half joking, knowing that if there was a hope of them believing you, it was now gone.

The video ended, everyone laughing their heads off at the stupidity of that girl.

"I just want to declare that I kissed no minors in anyone's trailer." Sebastian said seriously, after laughing.

"And I didn't ogle anyone." Evans added.

"And I most definately didn't shoot a kissing scene with minor, ever." Hiddleston piped up.

"I think that is pretty clear. We found out later on, that her family payed, just so she could pass by in movie since she was so untalented. Since then, we have to watch over every cast member's audition, no matter how small their role is." Joe said.

You laughed some more, and then watched RDJ's oldest son and his reaction.

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|||||||timeskip again cuz me lazy|||||||

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You and other cast members went for drinks afterwards. They all took some cocktails, and you were sipping your orange juice. Suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder. It was Evans, looking kinda serious.

"In that videk your friends mentioned bullying. Why didn't you tell anyone that you were getting bullied?" he asked. Suddenly all eyes were on you.

"Well, it just didn't seem like a big thing. I didn't want to bother anyone with my petty problems." you said and smiled a little.

"Kiddo, you ain't bothering us. we are family here, we talk aboyt everything. Please ask for help if you ever need it." Jeremy said.

Everyone else voiced their agreement. You talked a little more about it, but then started joking around, talking about random stuff. The night was great, and you were happy to have them there with you.

[aswallowssong]

Second Child, Restless Child

Chapter 9 - The Devil Whispered Lies

@valkyrie-5583

Read on AO3

If I told y'all I got engaged and that's why this chapter is literally a billion years late, would that make it better??

Jokes aside (not really a joke, I did get engaged, I just hid it in the notes a few weeks ago) spring break is one week away for this teacher, and my goal is to write a whole bunch so I can not have to post chapters like... 2 months apart.

Let me know what you think of this one!! Have a lovely day!!

Continuation of chapter 8 - Heaven Knows How Hard I Tried. The Keystone Killer has given Kit a lot to think about; including some things she wasn't quite counting on.

Kit wasn’t quite listening when they walked back into the precinct. Her conversation with JJ earlier in the day had helped. If JJ had met pushback, but now she was allowed to be a full part of the BAU team, she should stand up for herself. The director himself saw all of her reports, she could tell Ramos she disagreed with him. Especially if, for the time being, her work was good enough for the literal director of the whole FBI.

But her talk with Hotch outside of Harbin’s house hadn’t done her a lot of good. Her mind was still reeling from the events of the last hour, she still hadn’t slept since Friday night, and it was actively Sunday. 

What brought her back to reality was Morgan’s voice, deep and steady at the front of their group. It caught her up to the present so quickly she almost stopped short, which would have sent Hotch right into her.

“Well, that's got to be a first. A killer actually leading us to another killer.”

“Come on,” Gideon said from further back, “we all know they make the best profilers. They admire each other's work.”

“Ya, but usually from afar,” Elle said as they spilled into the conference room.

Kit didn’t even let herself imagine sitting down. There was no way she would be able to stay awake when she had nothing of value to add. At this point, she was waiting to get back on the jet and back to her apartment. The image of Claudia was twisting in her mind, and she couldn’t help the desperate need she had to see Monty face to face.

Hotch didn’t let her stay in her head for very long. “At least we got Harbin off the street. All right, let's review. What do we know about the Keystone Killer?”

He’s killing women at an alarming rate.

“Well, we know that he's not dead or in jail,” Elle offered.

Gideon continued. “Enjoys taunting the game.”

“Ya,” Morgan agreed easily. “He's in complete control.”

Reid was quick to add on, statistics rattling from him easier than Kit was even keeping her eyes open. “He strangled seven women in the 1980's, stopped for eighteen years, and then began again suffocating them. Ten percent of all violent crimes are caused by strangulation, it only takes eleven pounds of pressure to fully incapacitate your victim and if you hang on for at least fifty seconds, they will never recover.”

“Yeah,” Kit said, stopping short once she’d realized the words had come from her mouth, not someone else’s. Everyone’s eyes were on her, and she took a moment before she voiced the fact her brain had produced for her, however reluctantly. “It’s one of the most lethal forms of violence. Victims can be unconscious in a matter of ten seconds.”

Hotch shook his head, confusion pushing from his before he said, “When you suffocate someone you actually have less control over their death. It's actually more passive because the killer doesn't feel the life leaving the body.”

“He's changed almost everything that he does,” Elle said. She was lost, mild annoyance and confusions coming off her in waves. Elle had joined the team just as JJ did, and Kit wondered if she ever felt as completely baffled as she herself felt.

In that moment, it felt like the answer could be yes, and that was comforting.

Gideon took over then, speaking to them as a whole in a series of questions. “Why why why why? What? I mean, what's he getting out of this new M. O.? Where's his payoff? You got Carla Bromwell, she sustains a significant head injury. Blitz attacks suggest disorganization, no self-confidence. This is a guy who walks into seven victims' homes prior to this. There was no forced entry at any of the scenes. Where's the loss of confidence?”

There was a beat of silence, and she really hoped anyone had any idea. It was moments like these that made Kit feel the most out of her element. She had no idea why the Keystone Killer would want to kill anyone anyway, how could she know why he would change his methods?

“He would never change the way he kills by choice,” Ryan said, breaking the silence.

“What?” 

Ryan spoke again, confident in a way the rest of the team lacked. “We've been operating under the assumption that he purposely changed his M. O.”

It was like something physically snapped into place. Kit looked around as everyone was suddenly much more engaged. 

“You're saying he changed because he had to change?” Gideon asked.

“He knocked her unconscious. And it wasn't to scare.”

Elle seemed to be catching on, and Kit wished selfishly she wasn’t. “Because he couldn't control her physically while she was awake.”

Ryan nodded. “He could be incapacitated.”

Gideon latched back on. “At least partially.”

“Maybe an injury.” 

“Or a stroke,” Hotch added, and Gideon started nodding. “Either way you're gonna have to have medical records. Agreed?”

It took her more than a few seconds to notice that no one had said anything else, and she looked over at Gideon, who was looking directly at her.

Why is he looking at me? He never looks at me? We have a spoken rule to not look at one another during cases so why is he looking right at me?

“Colghain?” he said, and she shook her head. He most certainly was looking at her for an answer, and everyone else had gone quiet so she could answer.

“Yeah.” She said, and she saw Ryan raise an eyebrow in annoyance before she stumbled over herself to continue her answer. “Yeah, yes, sorry. Yes. There would be injury reports, charts, notes, scripts. It’s a lot of records, depending on who your doctor is and what hospital you’re at.”

There was another pause before they were all nodding, taking in what she’d said and running with it.

Morgan was first to speak. “Okay, so what are we talking about? This had to have happened after the middle of 1988 in Philadelphia?”

Gideon nodded, first at Kit, and then to Morgan. “Somebody who fits the rest of the profile.”

“It's a lot of hospital records,” Reid said, also looking towards Kit, who nodded her affirmation. “There’s hoards of people going into ERs every day for exactly those sorts of things. It’ll be a huge pool.”

He smiled at her, and she found herself taken a bit aback, but returned his grin with a shy one of her own.

“Call our girl Friday,” Gideon said, directed to Morgan, and as the flurry of movement and new hope danced through the room, she found herself feeling much less tired than she did before.

She’d been helpful. Gideon had known she was an expert about something and asked for her agreement and input before simply inserting a thought. 

Her feelings were incredibly jumbled as she stood there, waiting for directions. Gideon’s affirmation made her feel better than she thought it would, considering they didn’t usually talk if not to argue. JJ’s conversation still lingered in the back of her mind, and she wanted to talk to Ramos. If JJ could stand up to the coms department and get what she wanted, why couldn’t she stand up to Ramos?

But Claudia filled the leftover space in her consciousness, and she didn’t know if she could fight for more time with the BAU, or to try to be more fully integrated, or whatever it was that she actually wanted if the cases were going to stay with her.

To scare her. To make her feel like she needed to know that her sisters were alright, even though there was no way to do that while knees deep in a case. 

What do you even want, Kody? What do you want?

She didn’t have an answer for herself.

-----

Kit stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom of the precinct and splashed another cupful of water onto her face, holding her cheeks in her hands a moment before looking up at her reflection. 

You look exhausted.

Monty’s voice, as always, chided her. Sometimes she wished the voice of her overinvolved consciousness was her brother Al instead. Alaska couldn’t be bothered over things like that. His biggest qualm in life was the fact that his name was Alaska, and it had been quickly remedied by Ari telling him he could just go by Alex at school. 

You’ve got bigger problems than that. You’re having a moment in a police precinct in Philly while the rest of your team waits on a comprehensive file to be faxed. 

A feeling of dread shot through her chest at the realization that Monty didn’t even know she was gone. She’d been so tired and so incredibly thrown by Garcia’s text, and then Hotch’s insistence that she was on the jet that she hadn’t thought to walk down and tell Ari she was leaving. He’d been on the clinic floor; out of sight, out of mind. Then she was on the jet, and then at the crime scene. 

She hadn’t even sent a text. 

Hell, she hadn’t even really slept since then. Her time in the jet and her few minutes in the car were nowhere near what she needed, and with all the feelings and thoughts she had flying around her head, she was surprised she hadn’t crashed. She was definitely feeling “Big Feelings,” and she didn’t have time for it.

Ari and Monty always helped the big feelings. They had to be wondering where she was. Why hadn’t they called her? Or texted? They had to be worried. Girls didn’t just go missing in the middle of the day.

But they do. And worse, they’re murdered too. Right out of nowhere for no reason at all. People are sick, Kody. They kill for pleasure. They kidnap for pleasure. They’ll take anyone at any time. 

She had her phone out and dialed in record time.

“Penelope’s hotline for all things truth. Speak and know.”

“Garcia.” She swiped at her eyes. When had she started crying? “I need a favor.”

“Oh, Kit, hey.” Her voice was as sunny as always. “I’ve got that file almost through, the medical was-”

“It’s not about the case.”

There was silence on the other line for a moment. “Oh?”

“If I gave you the first and last name, could you trace a cell phone?”

“A cell phone? As long as it’s registered to the same name, yeah, I can. Why?”

“Virginia.” She said. “Virginia Colghain.”

She didn’t know why she picked Ginny. Something inside her said that Seese, George, and Lina would be at home with their mam. Ginny lived in the city, and Kit couldn’t call her. 

Ginny didn’t know she was in the field. Ginny didn’t even know she’d been paired with the BAU.

“Where should it be? Just so I know what I’m looking for.”

“Probably the US Attorney's office.”

“Which branch?”

“The one in the district. On fourth street.”

Garcia hummed as she typed, the clicking of her keystrokes halting as she said, “Wait. Wait, Colghain?”

Kit bit her lip. She was sort of hoping Garcia wouldn’t notice. 

Which is stupid, because of course she’d notice.

“Yes.”

“Virginia Colghain?”

“Yes, Garcia, can you track it or not?” Kit glanced at herself in the mirror, letting her reflection ground her. She tugged at one braid, and then the other with her free hand before wiping at her eyes again.

The clicking started again before Garcia said, “Virginia Colghain’s phone is, in fact, inside the US Attorney’s office on fourth street.”

Kit breathed a sigh of relief. While it wasn’t proof that Ginny was okay, it certainly helped Kit’s nerves. “Thanks, Penelope. Sorry about that.”

“Sure, my sweet clover. But, why don’t you just call her and ask where she is? I’m going to assume that’s one of your many many siblings.”

Because I haven’t quite told her I’m working with the BAU now, or going in the field again, and I’m not ready to have that conversation with her just yet, considering no one knows but Ari and Monty.

“I don’t want to interrupt her at work, I just needed to know she was okay.”

Garcia was quiet again before saying, “You know, we’ll get him. My system has faxed almost all the papers now, and then you can go bring him in.”

Kit took a breath, glancing again at the reflection in the mirror. She almost didn’t recognize the face staring back at her. Had she always looked so sad?

“Thanks, Pen,” she said quietly. “I, um. I’ve gotta go.”

“Go fight crime, clover. But, hey,” Penelope’s voice took on a different quality. A serious one. “You and I should talk when you get back.”

She sighed, but nodded. “Okay… bye, Penelope.”

Kit hung up the phone.

Ginny was fine. She knew that it was a given, and she probably just looked like a crazy, paranoid moron, but she also knew deep down that Penelope didn’t care. Maybe she understood.

Before she could convince herself otherwise she hit the first position speed dial, pacing a bit in front of the sinks as it rang.

“Dia dhuit?” Came Monty’s groggy, listless voice over the line, and Kit nearly burst into tears at the combination of her sister’s voice, her real voice, and their mother tongue.

“Monty.”

“Yeah, it’s me. Where are you? Thought you were in the living room, but I only hear you on the phone.”

Kit wiped at a stray tear trailing down her cheek. There was no way she was keeping it together when she finally got home.

Monty’s accented Irish was thicker than it normally was. Her voice was lower too, telling of the fact that she quite possibly woke her twin up. She bit back a bit of guilt, her own voice launching into a language just for them.

“I’m sorry, I woke you, didn't I?”

“It’s alright, I’ll go back when we’re done. Where are you?”

“Are you feeling any better?” She was stalling. “When was the last time you took-”

“Dakota.” Kit stopped in her tracks. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything is fine.”

“But why are you crying?”

Damn it.

She tried to keep any tremor out of her voice, but she knew Monty would always be able to tell. “I’m not.”

“Why are you calling me, crying-”

Kit sighed, her pacing stopping dead in its tracks as she tried to keep herself together. “Everything is okay. I’m not hurt. I’m fine. Everyone is fine. I needed to hear your voice.”

The coughing across the line was grating, and then, “Kody, where are you? What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

“I…” Kit started, steadying herself with a hand on the counter. “We’re in Pennsylvania.” 

“You’re what?” 

“It’s fine, I had to leave overnight. We’re on a case.”

“You didn’t call,” Monty said, obviously upset. “You didn’t even send a text. Ari was at the bureau last night, too, why-” She cut herself off to cough, the line being muffled as Monty pulled away from the speaker.

Kit ran her hand down her face. This wasn’t the conversation she needed to be having. She should have called Ari. He tended to be a little more level headed when he was upset. 

“Why wouldn’t you say anything?” Monty finally asked, voice much rougher than before. “What if something happened?”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Kit said, her voice more steady than she felt it should be. “I’m sorry, Mont. I’m so sorry. I know I should have told you.”

“Why…” Monty trailed for a moment before she said quietly, “Why did you call now?”

Claudia’s face flashed to the front of her mind, and then Monty’s; the reflection of her own staring back at her in the mirror. 

“I needed to hear your voice. I had to know you were alright.”

Another moment of silence passed before Monty asked, “Something happened, didn’t it?”

Kit sighed, sniffling quietly before letting out another, deeper sigh. “I don’t know if I can do this, Mont.”

The door to the bathroom swung open, JJ standing on the other side.

“Hey, the whole file finally came through, we’re meeting in the- are you crying?” 

Kit’s head whipped around to look at JJ square, and she hastily wiped under her eyes. “No, I, um. I’ll be right there.”

JJ tilted her head, but nodded and shut the door again. The air between the twins crackled quietly before Kit cleared her throat.

“I have to go. I… hopefully I’ll be home tonight. I’m sorry, Montana. I am.”

“Kody, wait-”

“I love you, Mont, I’m so sorry.”

“You can’t just say those things and then go put yourself in danger! You can’t do that to me! I-”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I-” The door to the bathroom was pounded on. “Lep! Let’s go!”

Derek.

“Dakota!”

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

Before Monty could say anything else, Kit snapped her phone shut. 

------

Her leg bounced as she sat in the SUV in between Reid and Elle. She was twisting at the hem of her shirt, and some of the threads had ripped and stretched. It was keeping her from pulling on her hair though, so she didn’t care about that. Ginny could sew it for her when they got back to DC.

If Ginny’s still there. Anyone could grab her at any time. Anyone could-

“Are you okay?” Reid asked quietly, his eyes locked on her fingers as they tugged at the material.

She stilled her hands immediately, feeling the concern dripping from his tone.

“Yeah,” she said. “Just… tired.”

“You could probably sit out if you need to,” he said, not noticing the way her face had started to heat up. Everyone in the SUV was actively pretending they couldn’t hear their conversation, but Kit knew better.

“I don’t need to,” she said quickly. “I just want to get home, so the faster we cuff this creep, the better."

"Because of your sister?"

"What?"

How could he have possibly known what you were thinking about Ginny? Did you say something? Did-

"Your sister's sick, right?"

She stared at him for a moment before it clicked. He wasn't talking about Ginny. Of course he wasn't, the only one that knew about her minor meltdown was Garcia. Monty being sick was common knowledge. 

"Oh," she said. "Yeah. And because he's, you know." She gestured vaguely. "Murdering women."

Elle laughed quietly next to her, nodding as she said, “Right, there’s that. We’ll get him. Right, Gideon?”

“Oh, we’ll get him,” Gideon said, sending more anticipatory energy into the world than usual. Kit didn’t have to think about the implications of that, though, as the SUV came to a halt outside a two story home.

They got out of the van quickly, all thoughts of Monty and going home gone as they strapped into Kevlar vests and double checked their weapons.

“I believe Walter Kern is in Sylvia Gooden's home now,” Gideon said, addressing the five of them and the SWAT captain. “Hotch confirmed he left the community center hours ago, and Kern's car's parked on the next block.”

“I want Walter Kern alive,” Ryan said quickly, and the SWAT captain nodded at his request. “I'll stand by for the word.”

“Reid, Greenaway, I'll call you when we've secured Kern. Morgan, Colghain, you’re with me and Ryan. Okay, let's move out.”

“Yeah,” Elle said, watching them as they walked away, Kit trailing just behind. 

It didn’t feel right to her that she was going and Elle was staying back, but that was one of the reasons she was even on the team.

Or, working with them, at least. There’d been too many conversations surrounding that topic for her to understand her feelings about it.

They crept towards the house, pausing as the SWAT team pried the door open. Gideon led and Kit held the rear, covering and watching to make sure that nothing happened to them. Team or not, they were her responsibility.

They weren’t in the house for very long before they could hear Gooden crying for help on the second floor. Every movement they made was succinct, and within seconds they were in the room.

“Don't move! Don't move!” Gideon yelled, all weapons drawn at Kern as he tried to hold a plastic bag over Gooden’s face.

They scuffled for a moment, Morgan able to knock Kern’s gun out of the way before holding his arms behind his back. “Down on your knees! Down! Don't move!”

Kit held her gun steady, shifting into a position that allowed her to still have a sightline on Kern; at least until he was cuffed. Not that she believed he could get out of Morgan’s hold.

Gideon spoke quickly into the com, letting Reid and Elle know that Gooden was alive, and Kern was secure.

Morgan struggled a bit to keep Kern’s hands together, and Kit didn’t change her aim. “Cuff him, Morgan.”

“Gideon, I need your cuffs, man,” he said over his shoulder.

Gideon didn’t move right away, but Kit didn’t take her eyes off Kern. She couldn’t until she knew he didn’t have any chance of getting away.

“Why don't you do this? I'll take care of her.” Gideon had spoken to Ryan, who had clearly been soothing Gooden until that moment. 

"That's enough. Now get up,” Morgan said, passing him off so Ryan could cuff him. “You got him?”

“Ya, I got him,” Ryan said, and Kit lowered her weapon as she heard the click of the cuffs secure around Kern’s wrists.

“Colghain,” Gideon said, “Some help, please.”

Kit turned quickly, realizing that Sylvia Gooden, who had just been nearly suffocated, was still crying and panicking with flex cuffs around her wrists. 

She wasn’t done yet.

The two steps to the bed were swift, and Gideon stepped aside as she spoke to the traumatized woman. “Hi, my name is Kit. I’m a nurse, and I’m going to check and make sure you’re okay. Is it alright if I touch you?”

Gooden looked up at her for a moment before she nodded stiffly, taking a deep breath before dissolving into hysterics. 

Kit grabbed her hands and squeezed gently, giving the older woman a small smile despite all the crazy going on around them.

“You’re going to be okay,” she said. “I promise. It’s all going to be okay.”

-----

Kit sat next to Reid on the jet, which was odd, because she normally tried to keep herself as far away from everyone as possible. She’d gotten a very strange read off of Hotch, though, who had secluded himself in the corner she usually would have taken, so she figured the conversation would keep her awake if anything else.

It didn’t stop her from propping a blue notebook open in her lap and tapping at it quietly with her pen. They were laughing at a story Ryan was telling about Gideon that made him seem almost human, and the laughter she shared was genuine. Gideon had stepped aside for her to take the lead with Gooden, which meant he was going to be true to his word when they were in the field. Stay out of each other’s way, and things will be fine. 

She just hoped it would last.

“What goes in that notebook?”

She looked up at Reid’s voice, noticing that while she’d allowed herself to be in her own head for fifteen seconds, everyone had splintered into their own conversations. Elle had even walked away from them, and was now engaged in a quiet conversation with Hotch.

“Hm?”

He nodded down at the blue notebook in her lap. “What goes in there? I’ve only ever seen the red one, and that’s where you write all of our medical information, and things that happen to us medically during cases. Like when I was sick in New Jersey. But that didn’t happen this time, nothing did, and that notebook is blue, and it’s much more worn, and -” He stopped short, frowning. “I’m rambling.”

She shook her head quickly. “No, it’s alright. I don’t mind. I was waiting for you to be done before I answered your question.”

Reid’s eyes widened a bit, his jaw dropping for just a moment before he seemed to right himself. “Most people don’t wait until I’m done.”

“It’s a skill I picked up in college. It’s hard to help someone if you won’t listen to their entire story.”

“Huh,” he said. He seemed to think on that for a moment before he said, “So, what’s it for?”

She blinked up at him. “Oh.”

She hadn’t thought she’d actually have to answer. She was sort of hoping that he would talk himself in circles until he was on another topic completely. He’d done it a few times over the short time she’d known him.

“Oh?”

“Well, it’s sort of personal,” she settled on.

“Like a journal? A diary?”

If he noticed she was blushing, he didn’t let on. “A little bit, it’s like-” She stopped short as she saw JJ move from her seat towards the coffee machine, and her brain flipped a completely different switch. “Sorry, I need to talk to JJ,” she said, and before he could protest, she’d dropped the notebook on her seat and was across the short length of the plane.

“Hey, JJ,” she said, causing the blonde to turn around and smile. 

“Hey, coffee?”

“No, actually I-” She hadn’t quite thought the rest out. “I um.”

She found her hands grabbing for the ends of her hair, but she stopped herself before she could start tugging. She was far too late on her meds, which were officially out of whack, considering the fact that she hadn’t slept in two days. She wasn’t even sure what day it was.

“Is today Sunday?” She said, which was not at all how she’d intended to start the conversation she wanted to have. 

JJ laughed. “I have no idea. Maybe? When we left it was the middle of the night, so I would need to check my phone.”

“Right,” Kit said, easing a bit and giving a quiet laugh of her own. “I um. Well, I wanted to tell you that I thought about what you said.”

JJ tilted her head, eyebrows pulling together. “What I said?”

“What you said about pushing back.”

“Ah,” JJ said, eyes flashing with recognition. “And?”

“I… Claudia really threw me.”

Her head tilted before she said, “The woman they found under the bed?”

Kit shivered. “Yeah.” She didn’t regard the moment with fondness. 

JJ didn’t seem to notice. She thought for a moment before shrugging. “I heard Morgan telling Gideon that you were incredible with her. That you didn’t leave when EMS got there because she didn’t want you to.”

Kit shook her head quickly, deflecting the praise. “I didn’t really do anything. She just… I don’t think she wanted all those men around her without another woman around.”

“And you were that woman for her.”

Kit stopped for a moment, watching JJ’s eyes soften. She was going to deflect again - insist that she’d done exactly what anyone else would have done, but something stopped her. 

“I want to be here,” she heard herself saying. She hadn’t had time to process it herself, but it seemed she was going to do it outloud, in real time. “I want to be a part of this, but I’m scared. Because there will be more Claudias. And more Sylvias… And more Kerns.” She moved a hand to play with the seam at the hip of her slacks. “And we won’t always get there in time. I won’t always get there in time.”

The two women stood in silence for a moment before JJ reached out and took Kit’s right hand off her braid, squeezing it gently between her own fingers.

“But we’ll always try. And sometimes?” She shrugged. “We win.”

Kit took a deep breath, allowing that thought to fill her senses. Sylvia Gooden was alive. Claudia was alive. Kern lost. 

“I think you should talk to Hotch when we get back. Not now. You look exhausted.”

They both laughed, Kit’s a little lackluster. “It’s that obvious?”

“You’ve got two black eyes.”

“Damn.” Kit shook her head, averting her eyes from JJ’s before saying, “Thank you. For listening and telling me what you knew and for making me feel like I deserve to be here.”

JJ nodded, saying simply, “You do.” She gestured to the coffee machine again. “You sure you don’t want some?”

Kit laughed, shaking her head again. “No, really, I shouldn’t. My body doesn’t know what time it is already, I think that would put me in dangerous territory.”

She stood on the Red Line platform, struggling to keep her eyes open. She pinched the skin between her thumb and forefinger, trying anything subtle to get her from point A to point B as quickly as possible. It was already dark, and she didn’t need to fall asleep on the train, or worse, while standing and waiting for the train. 

That would really cap this weekend. Falling asleep on the train, missing your stop, getting abducted…

“Do you have a headache?”

“Ah!” She jumped, turning over her shoulder and swearing loudly. “Reid, what the hell?”

“Sorry!” He said, ducking just a bit, as if he was worried she was going to strike him. “That pressure point is effective in relieving headaches, grounding panic attacks, and quelling nausea. Are you sick?”

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “No, that’s not- I know exactly what this pressure point is used for Spencer, what the hell are you doing here? At my train stop? Again? I told you that I don’t-”

“I wanted to make sure you got home safely,” he said quickly, cutting her off before she could really get going. The anxious sincerity flooding off of him stopped her long enough for him to continue. “The odds of being accosted on the Red Line are significantly lower than the Blue, but you’re exhausted, and this case made you nervous, so I just wanted to be sure you…” He slowed, a dark flush rising in his cheeks. “Got home safe. Which I’m sure you can on your own, because your field scores dwarf mine. I, um…”

He had stuttered to a halt.

He’s embarrassed. And he wanted to help you.

She didn’t have time or energy to process the fact that he’d most definitely profiled her. The sentiment was sort of touching.

Sort of, as far as Spencer Reid was concerned. 

“This… isn’t a Gideon thing?”

Reid chuckled quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “No. It’s, ah, a me thing. Gideon offered me a ride home, but I said no.”

She tilted her head at him, frowning as the train squealed into the station. “No shit?”

He laughed again, shaking his head and offering a small smile, his cheeks still flushed, but relief in his eyes. “No shit.”

“...Fine. But only because I’m really tired… You know, you could have said all this, or offered, in the bullpen, right? You didn’t have to follow me to the train like a stalker.”

The blush flooded his cheeks again, and he shrugged, unable to meet her eyes. “I didn’t want you to yell at me or something in front of everyone else.”

Her heart sank. 

Look what you’ve done, Kody. You made him anxious to be alone with you because he thinks you’re some crazy person that’s going to fly off the handle.

Well, aren’t you?

“I wouldn’t do that, Spencer,” She said, starting towards the train door. “I appreciate the concern… thanks.”

He looked up, eyes flashing a combination of relief and hesitance. “Oh. Yeah. Ah, yeah, sure.”

They sat down inside the train, Kit immediately leaning her head against the window. She sighed, closing her eyes.

Maybe Reid isn’t so bad. Maybe he’ll stay quiet, or read the whole way and you can actually get a short-

“You know, there’s a staggering amount of germs on the window on a DC train. Approximately 45% of people…”

-----

Spencer stalked away from her door, his long legs making him look somewhat like a baby giraffe as he turned to descend the stairs. He gave a last, incredibly awkward wave.

“See you tomorrow, Dakota,” he said.

She fought back the instinct to groan. “Bye Reid, thanks.”

He grinned as his head slipped below her sight line and she let out a sigh, her entire body seeming to settle into exhaustion. It was late, and dark, and hopefully she would be able to slip into the apartment and deal with her siblings in the morning before she left for work. She’d talk to Monty then, and Ari at the clinic, and everything would be fine.

She’d need to call Ginny, but she could do that in the morning as well. She needed to sleep first. Sleep, and then deal with whatever came.

Her hand fumbled a bit with the key as she tried to fit it correctly into the door, eyes dry and tired and brain scrambled. The residual jittery, anxious feeling of both the case and messing the the time on her medication wasn’t helping her fine motor skills, and she’d nearly resigned to search through her backpack for the flashlight she kept when the doorknob was ripped away from her hand, the door flying open. 

Something hard slammed into her body, arms wrapping around her in a vice grip and knocking the wind out of her.

Instead of words, there were hitching sobs from her attacker. Congested sounding, sad, and overly frustrated, matched with hot tears that were falling onto her shoulder. She took a breath, wrapping her arms around Monty and holding her as close as she could.

“Shh, it’s okay, dair, I’m okay,” she mumbled quietly, feeling her twin’s arms tighten around her. 

“Don't… ever do that,” Monty managed, voice gravely and tearful. “Never, ever.”

“Oi, Mont, what-” Ari turned the corner, making eye contact with Kit over their sister’s shoulder. She watched physical tension release in his shoulders. “Ah. Okay. Mont, deirfiúr, come in and close the door. She’s okay. We’re fine.”

The mixing of languages wrapped around Kit, filling her like a breath she hadn’t taken in days. Monty let go, rubbing furiously at her streaming eyes as she walked back through the door, settling down on their couch and curling herself into a ball.

Ari pulled Kit through the door, looking at Monty and shaking his head. There was no need for the mix now, they could speak as they did among themselves. “Ah, no, get up. Come on. She’s tired, you’re sick. Bed. Now.”

Kit didn’t know how it happened, but they all ended up in Ari’s bed. Granted, it was the biggest. He didn’t share a room, and he was significantly taller than both she and Monty had ever hoped to be. They’d slept all together as children often, and when they were first living in the district on the floor at Ginny’s, they ended up in some sort of pile of limbs the nights they all worked the same shifts. 

Now they rarely did. Six months before when they were back at home after Al needed to get his appendix out. A year before that when their Grandad had died. Before that? She wasn’t sure she remembered. 

Monty’s head rested on her chest, quiet congested snoring coming from her in even breaths. Her face was flushed; from fever or crying, Kit wasn’t sure.

She’d been nearly pulled into Ari’s lap, and now her head rested on his stomach, rising and falling just slightly as he slept. 

Regardless of how incredibly exhausted she was, she forced herself to stay awake and listen. To feel them breathing. To be sure they were there, and alive.

JJ’s words played in her head. 

You do.

She deserved to be with the BAU. She deserved to be there.

Her senses focused back in on her cúpla, and the stress she’d caused them. The fear. The anxiety.

But do you really want to be?

-----

It's me again!

The plan right now is to make each season (year?) a different story, with a different song as the title and lyrics for the chapters. I'm a music person, this is the only way I operate.

If you've heard a song that made you feel feelings, hit me with it!

[blissfulbroadway]

Alfred Nathaniel Hallam III Headcanons!!!

YES his name is Alfred Nathaniel Hallam yes he is a third no I do not take criticism

Childhood:

- Alfie got pneumonia as an infant. It messed up his lungs A Lot and affected his immune system and stuff as well so as a child he was constantly sick. 

- He was in and out of hospital a lot and had a few surgeries so he was always on bed rest and isolated to everyone until he was about four years old. 

- All of his medical issues caused his mum, Elizabeth Hallam, to dote on him a lot and suffocate him a bit. His father, Alfred Hallam II was the opposite and became pretty detached from being a father figure to Alfie. 

- At a very young age, Alfred was introduced to stories since he couldn’t go anywhere. He was constantly reading in bed and learning often. Also his father made him study German just for funsies. 

- His grandfather Wally, or Alfred Hallam I, introduced Alfred to Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland when he was three. Wally re-enacted the story to him in hospital a lot, and it inspired Alfred to fall in love with the story and take on the characters as his own. Wally got him his own copy after an especially difficult surgery, as well as a stuffed rabbit called Baby because he’s a three year old and it’s his little baby bunny :-) (he still ends up traveling with it as an adult and can’t leave without him). 

- Around that time, his parents had his little brother, Elias (named after their mum) to be a backup plan or new start because they didn’t think Alfred would be much worth to them in the future. Yes they are shitty I know :/ 

- His parents have very very very high expectations for him because he’s now the older brother who has to do everything and he’s not their spoiled sick baby boy. They let Eli be a little shit and do anything he wants (like any little sibling but multiplied by like 10) while Alfie was expected to be the perfect child who dressed, acted, looked, and spoke the way they wanted. 

- Alfie and his parents are very posh sounding because they live in Bromley, but he has a slight northern twang because of his grandfather. His parents hate it. 

- When he’s four years old, after a long period of bedrest, Alfred is allowed to play alone outside, and he meets Alice. They refer to that day as their Golden Afternoon because it was the day they became the best of friends, and Alfred introduced Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland to her. (At first Alice was probably like Who are you and what are you doing in my backyard and Alfred is just SO EXCITED to introduce his favorite storybook in his entire existence so she budges and let’s him share his world with her)

- Alfie is a huge bookworm and while he adores learning and reading, his infatuation for learning mathematics (mostly so he could impress his father and maybe he would love him more if he knew “Big Kid Things” yes I know 🥺🥺🥺) manifested into an obsession with time, as well as the fear of being late or running out of time. He was surrounded by the idea of death from a young age and it influenced the way he thought about himself and what might happen to him if he didn’t listen to his parents. Their pressure brought out his anxiety disorder and depression at a very young age and it sticks with him throughout the rest of his life. His escape from all that death and sadness was Alice’s Adventures because he could always reset the clock at the end of the book and start again. 

- When he’s five, Alfie spends some of his rich kid allowance on a copy of Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland for Alice, and in return she buys him a pocket watch a few years later. He adores it and never ever takes it off even as an adult. 

- Alfred avoids his own home a lot and spends time with Alice in their conjoined backyard, playing pretend and acting out their story together. Sometimes, they spent the days inside her house (Mama Hallam is good friends with the Spencer parents, so she doesn’t mind them watching Alfie) and Alfred is well acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Spencer enough where he considers them paternal figures...sort of. (Mr. Spencer is lowkey highkey Alfred’s bisexual awakening, and he’s one of Alfred’s first crushes; it doesn’t help that his own father constantly criticizes him and his interests or is absent from his life doing slimy rich man things. Daddy issues.)

- Mr. Spencer is a book lover (possibly librarian? Also sometimes professor :-)) and so he’s constantly discussing stories with Alfred and Alice on an intellectual level fit for the both of them. Most adults treat them like small children, so Alfred loves the attention. 

- When Mr. Spencer dies in their early teenagehood, Alice and Alfred get incredibly attached to their storybook, and they find more comfort in it than ever. His death launched Alfred’s struggles with eating and sleeping, as well. 

- This is one of the harder periods of time for Alfred, as he and Alice didn’t have any friends aside from each other. They’re incredibly codependent on one another. 

- Mamie Van Eysen flirts with Alfred a lot during this time, but only as a joke. Either that, or she makes fun of his body and his personality—both in front of Alice, to make Alfred uncomfortable and Alice jealous. Other students bully him and Alice often. 

- A lot of Alfie’s self image issues stem from this time, and his anxiety and depression worsen. 

- When Alice’s mum dies when they’re fifteen, the pair runs away together. Alice almost gets assaulted, and Alfred wants to protect her. He gets into a giant fistfight with the older man. It’s bad enough to the point where the man is arrested and Alfred is hospitalized; it’s the hardest period he’s ever spent in hospital, even after all of his childhood issues. The police bring Alice and Alfred home and Alfred is banned from visiting Alice for a while. They communicate by speaking through the windows straight across from one another, or holding up signs from the window seats. While Alfred is healing, Mama Hallam is extra overbearing and critical to the point of being toxic and unhealthy for Alfred. His brother gets really mean around this time, too, as he doesn’t get the attention he once had. His and Alfred’s relationship get really rocky, and it’s never really mended in the future. 

- The day Alice and Alfred can officially reunite, they never separate and they’re stuck at the hip from this point forward. 

- When Alfred isn’t hanging out with Alice, he is at his grandfather’s hat shop, helping him stock or sell products. He puts his money towards a secret emergency fund in case he runs away again—this time without Alice. Alfred can never get past the front door, though. 

University:

- When they reach uni, Alfie majors in mathematics and education, and minors in literature and statistics. He finds joy and love in his studies again, even if school itself affects his mental health. 

- Alfred doesn’t want to be dependent on his parents, so he gets a job at a coffee shop and writes essays on the side for money. His caffeine addiction is dangerous at this point, and he often finds himself not eating or sleeping until it’s physically impossible not to take care of himself. 

- Alfred puts all of his money towards renting an apartment with none other than Miss Tabatha Dedwin!!

- He and Tabbie are flatmates. Since Tabbie is best friends with Dodgy Dawkins, he meets him, as well. They’re friends for good after that, and that’s when Alfred starts to wind down, smoking with them, as well as his Alice. 

Adulthood:

- After university, Alfred gets official treatment and is able to change his eating habits and caffeine addiction. 

- Alfred learns about emotional support animals and gets a Giant Flemish Rabbit named Ollie to be his support animal. He’s giant and blue-eyed and looks like the spitting image of Alfred’s beloved White Rabbit. He’s a cutie. 

- Alfred also did a little bit of gardening when he was getting treatment, and once he’s home he gets all sorts of plants and becomes a Plant Dad (with lots of research, of course!)

- In his mid twenties, Alfred finishes his extra schooling and becomes a primary school teacher. He blossoms into a happy, mostly healthy bisexual man with lots of plants and a sweet pet bunny and he wears funky disastrous outfits and has an amazing support system!!! (Alice, Wally, Tabs, and Dodgy :-) also Wally’s lover Denny the carpenter who comes out to Alfred when he’s an adult. He’s super shook but he gets even closer to Wally because they’re more similar than he believed)

- When he’s prob like 30 he goes to more school and becomes a university professor in the end of his years! Depending on who he ends up with he possibly has a few kids and a bunny and life is good!!! He’s teaching and learning constantly and it’s the life he’s always wanted even if his parents never accept his Christmas cards and his brother doesn’t answer his calls. He’s happier than he’s ever been. 

- Also don’t tell Sage but when Alfie’s older his health problems catch up to him and he dies a relatively young death due to complications with his lungs :-( rip to my main man Alf

Little Headcanons:

- Alfie is the Biggest animal person besides maybe Tabbie. The ONLY exception is geese because one time he tried to feed a goose was brutally attacked by a goose and is afraid of them. He prob does birdwatching in his free time too 

- Alfred’s fashion is HORRENDOUS @dodgefred and I made it up forever ago that he was a fashion disaster and ofc Colton’s costume...moving on. The reasoning for his fashion is he just picks pieces that make him happy that day and he sticks with it it doesn’t matter if he matches he’s just vibing.

- He reads his kids bedtime stories and he’s so devoted to being the father his own dad never ever was - When he becomes a professor it’s probably to teach Calculus and while his class makes people cry Very Often Alfie as a teacher himself is very very empathetic and comforting and yeah math is a bitch but he’ll take time out of his lunch breaks and extends his office hours way past the set time to help a student!!! He’s such a comfort to LGBT+ students and he probably has a few he discusses gay discourse in literature with (Tabbie absolutely introduced him to lesbian literature also also this isn’t a Tabs post but she stans Shakespeare :-)). Professor Alfie is the weird quirky prof. who stresses you out sometimes but also he goes on long tangents about his interests and how much he loves his significant other or children or baby bunny child Ollie!! He has so many plants and books in his classroom too it’s a Lot.

- Wayyyyy into theatre but he didn’t pursue acting onstage because his dad is homophobic :/ but he was in charge of lighting in school productions and fell in love with the stage

- He helps his friends study by acting out their textbooks for them and they always always ace their tests

- MUG COLLECTOR!!! He has so many mugs it’s not even funny his entire cupboard is taken over by them honestly 

- Virgin who can’t drive 

- Such a cursed and baseless hc I’m So Sorry but his first crush was the tomato from Veggie Tales 

- Going off the last point he grew up in a Catholic household and he had one of those mums who was like you are Not allowed to watch tv unless it’s like. Veggie Tales or the Little Einsteins

- Alfie plays piano!!!! Also he did ballet when he was younger but he left because it was super bad for his mental and physical wellbeing and is convinced he’s a bad dancer because of his poor experience with the art

- Alice calls Alfred her Bunnie and he calls her My Alice/Allie/Allie Cakes

The end :-)

[hmsjiara]

‘cause you’re amazing (just the way you are) jj + kie

request by @love-life-always​: We never really hear anything about Kiara's kook year, so I was wondering if you could write a story where Kiara had an eating disorder during her kook year, while trying to fit in and stuff but she managed to recover when she became friends with the pogues again, but then for whatever reason it starts to affect her again and jj/the other pogues notice.

this turned into one big angsty mess real quick lol. but protective!jj is my kink, so... here you go lmao. thank you so much for the request, i hope you like it :)

read it here on ao3.

disclaimer: i understand that eating disorders are a serious/complex issue and am NOT trying to romanticize them in any way. and while i did some research before writing this, i am in no way an expert nor have i ever experienced something like this. so, if any part of this is inaccurate or ignorant i apologize. if this triggers you in anyway, please do what’s best for your mental/emotional health.

trigger warnings: eating disorders, panic attacks, brief mentions of abuse.

                                      •••

It was an unspoken rule among the Pogues that they didn’t talk about Kiara’s Kook Year.

It hadn’t always been that way. When Kiara had returned to the Chateau with a years worth of apologies and a case of Miller Lite, John B and Pope had forgiven her almost instantly, but not JJ. Weeks of veiled insults and sharp glares had followed, and despite John B and Pope’s efforts to sway him, JJ seemed determined to hate her forever.

But eventually, even he managed to forgive her for abandoning them. Kiara assumed that it was a combination of her constant presence, and the boobs and curves she’d developed during her Kook Year. She couldn’t really blame them for noticing, since they were horny teenage boys and she spent the majority of her time in a bikini.

So, things went back to normal, and the Pogues caught on to the fact that Kiara didn’t want to discuss her absence, or her exile from the Kook Academy. It was easier this way, she told herself. Talking about Sarah still hurt too much, and as for everything else... well, it wasn’t important.

So, she doesn’t talk about Sarah, about how they got drunk and watched movies and saved baby sea turtles together, how her heart aches when she thinks about her. She doesn’t talk about the girls at the Kook Academy who spread rumors behind her back, who shove her in the hallways and on one occasion dump a smoothie on her head in the cafeteria. She deletes the mean comments under her Instagram posts before the Pogues can see, because she doesn’t need them to defend her, and the last thing she wants is to explain why everyone hates her so much.

Because she just got her friends back, and Kiara isn’t going to burden them with her problems, not when they have it so much worse.

                                        •••

The words eating disorder cause a certain kind of alarm to go off in Kiara’s brain.

Because yes, there’d been those months at the Kook Academy where she’d gone from diet to diet, weighed herself after every meal, looked at the girls in her grade with their flat stomachs and thin, long legs and hated her curves and muscle-toned limbs. She’d followed all the trends— juice cleanses and swearing off anything over a hundred calories. She even stopped surfing, switched to running, wondering if it would make a difference.

Her mother’s comments hadn’t helped. Once Kiara was going to parties and sleepovers with Sarah, her mom started buying her clothes that were two sizes too small, handing her grapefruit halves in the morning when Kiara asked for eggs and bacon, shot pointed glares at the half-eaten box of cookies on her dresser.

So, she started just... not eating. It was almost too easy to do. All she had to do was say that she was running late for school and skipping breakfast, snack on celery sticks for lunch, tell her parents she had homework to avoid coming to dinner. And it had worked: she’d gotten thinner, and her mother smiled when she started wearing the clothes she’d bought her, so Kiara assumed it was fine.

It was a visit to her doctor that made Kiara realize that what she was doing to herself was wrong. There’d been no official diagnosis, just a few pointed questions about her daily food intake, a suggestion to incorporate more protein into her diet. But Kiara had read between the lines, and she’d gotten over it, moved on, recognized that what she was doing wasn’t how she wanted to live her life. And she hadn’t told anyone, especially not the Pogues, because it was her business and they didn’t need to know.

The problem is that sometimes Kiara forgets to catch herself.

Like when she spends a little too long looking at her stomach in the mirror, or when JJ offers her the rest of his fries at the Wreck and she wrinkles her nose and says too many carbs.

He frowns, presses a hand to her forehead, as if checking for a temperature. “Too many carbs? Who are you, and what have you done with Kiara Carrera?”

She laughs, shoves him away from her, goes to get another beer from the fridge, but JJ is still watching her when she gets back. “I didn’t know you cared about that sort of stuff.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, avoiding his gaze as she knocked John B’s feet off of the counter.

“Calories and shit,” he said with a shrug, and it was a perfectly reasonable remark, but Kiara didn’t like the direction their conversation was going in. “Is this something you picked up from the Kooks? You turning into one of those soccer moms who meal plan and don’t let her kids eat sugar?”

It hits a little too close to home, so Kiara snatches a fry from his basket and makes sure that he sees her eat it.

“There,” she said, chewing somewhat obnoxiously. “Happy now?”

JJ rolled his eyes, turned to listen to whatever Pope was saying about his internship, but Kiara couldn’t help but feel like she’d dodged a bullet.

JJ couldn’t find out. Not now, not ever.

                                       •••

Being forced to attend Midsummers is the last thing Kiara needs or wants, but her mother doesn’t care.

She thinks it’s how she copes. Kiara can hang with whoever she likes, as long as her mother can put her in a pretty dress and show her off to the Kooks.

The subtle, pointed comments start again.

Take it in a bit on the hem, Silvia. I’m not used to this, you know. I never had Kiara’s curves when I was younger.

I know that your friends don’t have to worry about this, Kiara, but you have a figure to maintain. Eating at the Wreck every night just isn’t going to fly.

Maybe a side salad instead, sweetheart. I’m paying the seamstress by the hour.

Kiara’s not proud of it, but she does go along with her mother, because she’s tired of fighting with her, and the idea of her daughter going to Midsummers with all the Sarah Cameron’s of the world has made her happier than Kiara has ever seen her.

She tells herself it’s only for a couple of weeks, that she can get through it, but it’s getting harder to ignore the comments, to resist the urge to weigh herself after a bag of popcorn or a sandwich from the Wreck.

Before, when she was friends with Sarah, it was easier to hide. Sarah didn’t really notice other people— it wasn’t her fault, just how she’d been raised.

The Pogues are different.

At first, they buy all the usual excuses. She’s not hungry, she already ate. But then John B asks her to split a burger with him at the Wreck, or Pope roasts her a s’more and she refuses, and they start to notice.

One time, Kiara buys a new kind of green tea ice cream from the grocery store, and she eats it all in one sitting, calories be damned.

JJ laughs, nudges John B. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Damn, Kie.”

It’s a joke, a passing comment, but Kiara flinches, feels a sudden surge of regret. Shit. Her mother was going to kill her.

JJ sees it, because of course he does, and then his teasing grin disappears and he gives Pope and John B a knowing look.

Pope looks instantly uncomfortable as John B clears his throat, and Kiara doesn’t like it one bit. She feels cornered, suddenly on edge, as John B opens his mouth and says, “Kie, is everything okay? With you, I mean?”

“Of course,” she says, shrugging, the deflection easy. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, it’s just—“

“You’re not fucking eating.”

Kiara flinches for real this time at JJ’s harsh, blatant tone, her stomach hollowing out as John B hisses JJ’s name and says this isn’t what we talked about.

Oh, so they’re talking about her now. Wonderful.

“Fuck this,” she says, springing to her feet, the empty ice cream cartoon and metal spoon clattering to the floor. She feels sick just looking at it. “Y’all are— y’all are delusional, okay? I’m out.”

“Kie, it’s okay,” Pope says, his eyes on the floor. “Millions of people have, uh, stuff like this, you know, it’s not—“

“I do not have a eating disorder,” Kiara growls at him, ignoring Pope’s own flinch, how he curls in on himself at her words. “Your statistics don’t apply to me, okay, Pope? You have no idea what’s going on.”

“Kie, we’re just trying to help—“

“Fuck you, John B,” she says, turning to leave, not able to stand the pity on his face.

“No,” JJ snarls, rising from his chair, clutching the neck of his beer bottle so hard she thinks it might shatter. “I’ve had enough. Do you know that’s the most I’ve seen you eat in weeks? Something’s wrong, Kie, we’re not idiots, okay? So just tell us—“

“I don’t have to tell you shit, Maybank,” she snaps, the pit in her stomach filling itself with something cold and bitter. “This is my business, just like whatever the fuck is happening with your dad is yours. So leave me alone.”

She regrets the words as soon as she says them, but it’s too late, because JJ’s beer bottle shatters and John B yells as alcohol and shards of glass scatter across the floor, and Kiara is out the door before any of them can make her stay.

They’re just worried, she knows that, but it’s fine. She has it handled.

                                      •••

In reality, it’s the opposite of fine.

Kiara avoids the Pogues in the week leading up to Midsummers, ignores the texts they send her asking her to meet, actually hides when John B comes to find her at the Wreck.

She tells herself she just has to get through Midsummers, and then it’ll all work itself out.

The stress makes it worse, she thinks, and in between her anxiety over the Pogues and her mother’s pre-Midsummers prep, Kiara doesn’t realize that she can’t remember the last time she ate until she’s pulling up to the club with her parents.

It’s kind of like a wake up call, the shakiness in her limbs and the empty feeling in her stomach, and the next thing she knows, she’s hyperventilating over the sink in the girls bathroom.

It’s hard to breathe, and the heavily perfumed air definitely isn’t helping, and her mother is going to kill her, and Kiara doesn’t even know how it got this bad again. She doesn’t look too thin in the mirror, at least not to her, but what do other people see?

She’s not quite sure how, but she manages to find her phone in her clutch, to fumble through typing in her password and locating Pope’s contact.  

He answers on the first ring.

“Kie? Is everything okay? Where are you?”

He’s obviously concerned, and she feels like such an idiot, because she spent the past week pushing him and everyone else away when all they wanted to do was help her.

“Bathroom,” she manages to say, fighting to speak past the tightness in her throat. “In— Inside. Pope, I can’t breathe, I can’t—“

“Okay, Kie, it’s okay,” he murmured, sounding surprisingly calm. “Fuck, I’m working, I can’t leave. But I’m gonna help you, okay? Just breathe. Give me one second—”

The call ended, and Kiara tried not to panic anymore than she already was, but it was a relief when Pope’s name appeared on her phone screen again.

“Pope?” She asks, his name more of a sob than anything.

“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, Kie, you’re gonna be fine. You’re not hurt, right?”

She shakes her head, then remembers that he can’t see her, and confirms that she’s fine (physically, at least) through the phone. Pope keeps doing that, asking her questions in a low, level voice, until she hears a knock on the bathroom door.

“Pope, is that you at the door?” She asks, clutching her phone tighter in her hand, any sense of control she’d managed to regain vanishing.

“No, it’s—“

“Kie? Kie, are you in there?“

She doesn’t know why, but the sound of JJ’s voice makes her crumble. She can still hear Pope talking to her through the phone, hear JJ on the other side of the door, but it’s like it’s all coming from very far away. Her breathing picks up again, and she barely registers JJ’s fuck it, I’m coming in.

His knock on the stall door jerks her back into reality. “Kie? It’s JJ, can you open the door?”

With shaking hands, she grapples with the lock, automatically shrinking away when light floods the stall and she sees JJ staring down at her.

She must look like a mess— sitting on the floor of the bathroom in her dress, mascara running, like some girl who just got dumped by her boyfriend at a party. But she can’t really bring herself to care about that, because she still can’t seem to get enough air into her lungs.

“JJ,” she whimpers, because he’s just standing there like he doesn’t know what to do, some raw emotion in his eyes she can’t bring herself to decipher right now.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” JJ says, snapping out of whatever trance he’d fallen into at the sight of her, his movements slow as he crouches down beside her, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Take it easy, okay, Kie? Just breathe.”

He takes the phone from her, has a brief conversation with Pope, then hangs up and pockets it. Kiara doesn’t object, staring at her hands and trying to stop herself from shaking.

“Can I?” JJ asks, and she realizes he’s asking to hold her hands.

She nods, and then his warm, calloused fingers are brushing against her skin as he rubs soothing circles into the back of her palms. Her heart rate isn’t slowing, though, her breaths coming quick and fast again, but then JJ’s arms are around her and he’s pulling her back against his chest and murmuring reassurances into the top of her head.  

He tells her to copy his breathing, and she does, focusing on the steady beat of his heart against her shoulder, the fact that his hands are still holding hers.

Eventually, her breathing returns to normal, and her anxiety is replaced by exhaustion. She sags against JJ, closes her eyes, relaxes into his warmth.

The next thing she remembers is JJ guiding her into the passenger seat of the van and bucking her seatbelt. It’s easy to trust him, to let her eyes slip closed and listen to the steady, familiar hum of the engine.

Kiara doesn’t ask where they’re going, and she must fall asleep at some point, because then she’s waking up in the driveway at the Chateau. She ignores JJ’s offered hand and stumbles out of the van, tugging off her heels the moment she gets inside and collapsing onto the pullout couch.

She doesn’t want to move ever again, content to fall asleep right there, exhaustion heavy in her bones, but JJ takes one look at her and pulls her to her feet. He takes her to the bathroom, turns the shower on and places a hand on her back to guide her inside. He asks if she wants him to stay. She says no, because JJ’s already looking at her like she’s a wounded animal, and she doesn’t want him to think that she can’t do anything by herself.

Even if she almost has another panic attack once he leaves, has to remind herself to breathe as she undresses and steps into the shower. The hot water helps, and she loses track of time standing in the spray. She never hears the door open, but when she gets out there’s a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt on the counter.

She puts them on, drys her hair with a towel but leaves it down, too exhausted to do anything else. The sweatshirt smells like JJ, and she breathes it in. She doesn’t want to think about what it means. She can have a pass tonight, she figures.

When she opens the door, the hallway smells like cooking oil and burnt toast. She wrinkles her nose, pads into the living room on silent feet, and she thinks JJ might be right to treat her like a skittish animal, because when she walks into the kitchen and sees the plate of eggs and toast on the table, she wants to run back inside the bathroom.

JJ seems to recognize her urge to flee, because he pats the seat across from him and gives her a pointed look. “Sit down, Kie.”

She complies, because she kind of owes him, and JJ actually managed to cook something without burning the house down, so that’s a miracle in it itself.

“It’s no five-star Kiara Carrera creation, but it’ll have to do,” he tells her, smiling at her as she sits down. “I only know how to cook breakfast— sorry.”

He seems almost embarrassed, but Kiara doesn’t see why. “No, I love it,” she tells him, and he just stares at her, as if he thinks she’s lying. “Really, I do.”

He grins at her then, his blue eyes sparkling in the dim lights of the Chateau, and then JJ’s digging into his own food like a starving stray dog who hasn’t had a real meal in weeks.

It smells great, even though the toast is a little burnt, and Kiara is starving, but she still hesitates before picking up her knife.

JJ notices it, because of course he does. “Eat, Kiara,” he says, his tone soft but firm. “You need it. Please.”

It’s the please that gets her. She takes a cautious bite of toast, which is burnt on one side by covered in butter. It settles in her stomach, warm and filling, and before she realizes it, she’s scraping her plate clean.

JJ doesn’t say anything, but there’s a gleam or triumph in his eyes when he takes her empty plate from her and places it in the sink.

She was exhausted before, but the food’s made her drowsy, and Kiara stumbles into John B’s room while JJ is washing the dishes. He’s not home, but she decides to wait until tomorrow to worry about it, if she has to. As well as a bunch of other things— like what the hell her mother is going to do with her.

Kiara’s muscles feel like they’re made out of lead as she collapses onto the bed. She’s exhausted, but her thoughts aren’t stopping, and it’s a relief when JJ appears in the doorway.

“You good?” He asks, and she hums into her pillow, not opening her eyes.

But then the floorboards creak as he turns to leave, and she doesn’t know what makes her do it, but she calls his name.

“Yeah?” JJ says, and she opens her eyes this time, studying his silhouette in the doorway, all soft lines and tousled blond curls.

“Will you stay?” She asks, before she can consider what it means, how he’ll interpret it. “I just... I don’t want to be alone right now.”

But JJ just nods, moving to the other side of the bed and lying a respectable distance away from her. He closes his eyes immediately, but Kiara can’t seem to relax. They’ve slept in the same bed before, but this feels different. Heavier.

“JJ?” She murmurs into the silence, and he hums to show that he’s listening. “Thank you. For tonight, I mean.”

“S’ no problem, Kie,” he says, his words slurred by exhaustion, eyelids drooping as he turned to look at her. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, picking at her nail polish to avoid meeting his gaze. “I know. It’s just... it’s hard, ya know? I didn’t want to bother any of you, God knows you have enough shit to deal with without me piling my own on top of it, and it wasn’t that big of a deal, I swear—”

“Kie, your shit is my shit,” JJ said, his voice firm as he reached out to take her hand. She brushed her fingers over his knuckles, comforted by the familiar pattern of the cracks and scars that had stayed there even after his cuts had healed. “I’m not going anywhere. And this... whatever it is, we’ll get through it together. All of us— John B and Pope too.”

Kiara nodded, and it was silent for a while, but then she said, “I’m sorry. About what I said, about your dad. I was out of line, and I—”

“Don’t worry about it,” JJ said, shrugging, his fingers squeezing hers in reassurance. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, but... it’s just scary, Kie. It was like I was watching you slip away right in front of me, and I didn’t know how to stop it.”

Kiara didn’t know what to say to that, so she just tucked herself into his side, pressing her face into his shoulder as JJ wrapped an arm around her. Their fingers were still intertwined, resting on his chest.

“Kie,” he said after a while, when she was on the brink of sleep. “I shouldn’t have to say it, but... you know you’re fucking beautiful, right? Just the way you are. You don’t have to—

“Thanks, JJ,” Kiara whispered before he could finish, her voice catching. She told herself not to cry, but a few tears escaped anyway. JJ wiped them from her cheeks, wove his fingers into her hair, running them through her wet curls.

“No, I’m serious, you’re like really hot, I—“

Kiara laughed, swatting at his arm, even though there was no real force behind it. There was a certain warmth rising in her chest, as she breathed in JJ’s scent and fell asleep in his arms. She didn’t quite know what it was, but it was new, and she liked it.

Far more than she should have.

                                      •••

It’s better after that. Not perfect, not right away, but better.

She explains everything to the Pogues eventually, and they take it all in stride, as if she’d just told them that she had decided to take up knitting as a pastime.

John B is always there, offering to drive her to get dinner, insisting he hasn’t eaten in days. He insists that Kie teach him how to cook fish the way they do at the Wreck, makes her taste-test each batch and critique them.

Pope does research, because that’s how he copes with this sort of thing, and after a while he starts bringing it up with her. JJ glares at him at first, asks Kiara if she wants him to stop, but she likes it. She likes knowing she’s not alone, that this is normal.

JJ’s approach is more subtle. He’s always making her food (he still can’t make toast without burning it, but she eats it anyway). Honestly, when JJ pouts and bats his eyelashes and flashes that devilish smirk of his, it’s hard to say no to anything he offers her. He makes it easy though, and that’s what she loves. It’s not awkward or forced, just them sharing a basket of fries at the Wreck, or visiting a local food truck festival in town.

She doesn’t know why she thought telling the Pogues would be a bad thing, because it’s nice not having to hide this from them, to know they’ll be there if she needs them.

Kiara doesn’t need perfect, she decides. She just needs her boys— if she has them, she’ll be fine.

No matter what happens.

[sachigram]

Truss

((click here to read on ao3!!))

When Shizuo was little, before he ever lost his temper at his brother and lifted the fridge, he learned about soulmates in school along with everyone else. He didn't have much interest in it— no one in his class really did. All of them were too young to understand, and romance in general was far less interesting than running around outside and skinning their knees up. Shizuo thought to himself, if soulmates were really something, and lots of people had one, then he wouldn't have to work too hard or think too much about it. Everything would work itself out in the end.

As he got older and his fuse got shorter and shorter, he realized how difficult soulmates actually were to come by. Most people never met their soulmates— Shinra would often babble about the actual statistics, but he'd shut up when he saw Shizuo getting pissed off about it. Probability aside, even if someone was fated to be with Shizuo, he knew they likely would never approach him even if they found each other. People avoided Shizuo, and as he grew into himself, he started avoiding them, too.

And then. Then, there was Izaya.

The day he met Orihara Izaya, Shizuo immediately got a headache just from looking at the guy. Izaya was ethereal looking, a mischievous smirk planted on his pretty face, his hair dark and messy, yet falling in artful waves like it was styled that way. His eyes seemed blood red in the orange light from the sunset, and Shizuo hated him instantly. It really was as simple as that.

They fought; Izaya slashed at Shizuo with a knife, and then Shizuo got hit by a car while chasing after him. Things only got worse as they got older, and to this day, Shizuo can't even look at Izaya without being filled with the need to chase him down and bash his pretty face in. Nothing else really ever seems to matter.

After a particularly bad fight of theirs, Shizuo ends up at Shinra's, blood soaking through his shirt. He's pissed off about it for multiple reasons: Izaya slashed him up again, his white shirt is completely ruined, and Izaya got away. Shizuo is chewing a hole in his cheek when he flops onto Shinra's couch and lets the doctor patch him up.

“Oh, wow,” Shinra says, dabbing at Shizuo's wounds with a little cotton ball. “It looks like he carved his name in you.”

“What?” Shizuo barks, looking down. Sure enough, the characters of Izaya's first name are slashed into Shizuo's chest, right across the first scar Izaya ever gave him. “What the fuck!”

“I'm surprised you didn't notice until now,” Shinra says.

“He did it so fast! I was too busy trying to hit him. Fucking flea!”

“Relax, it's not deep. I doubt it'll scar. He probably did it just to make you even madder.” Shinra dabs something that stings over the gashes, and Shizuo grumbles low in his throat, imagines going to Izaya's apartment and yanking his head off.

“He really is the worst.” Celty's PDA says exactly what Shizuo is thinking, and Shizuo nods in agreement. Shinra sighs.

“He goes all out for Shizuo-kun, that's for sure.” He applies an ointment before he digs around in his kit for some bandages. “You know... The way you guys are with each other... Have you considered you might be soulmates?”

Shizuo waits a moment before responding, because he's pretty sure Shinra might be making a shitty joke, but when Shinra just keeps right on working, Shizuo flicks him on his forehead.

“Ow! What the heck was that for?!” Shinra yelps, looking at Shizuo with teary eyes. “I'm patching you up, and this is the thanks I get?!”

“Don't pair me up with that rotten louse! I get enough of that from the girl who hangs out with Kadota!” Shizuo huffs before reclining back into the couch. “Izaya's just an insane little fucker who hates me. There's no romance involved.”

“Well, yeah, but...” Shinra frowns, rubs his forehead, and goes back to bandaging Shizuo. “He's literally all you think about. That's a sign.”

“He makes my life hell! Of course I think about him! If I stop paying attention to him, he'll do something even worse.”

“Hmm.” Shinra doesn't seem particularly convinced. “Well, there's nothing I can do about it if neither of you will listen to reason. I'm only saying, if it is that you're mated, letting it go to waste because of some rivalry is childish.”

“Rivalry?! He— You!”

“Just keep it in mind. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing to ever happen around here.”

Shizuo begs to differ. The thought alone of being Izaya's soulmate is strange enough that Shizuo feels a little nauseous. They can't be near each other without fighting. Shizuo thinks being alone is much better than being matched with someone who clearly wants him dead.

***

Shizuo doesn't see or hear from Izaya a few weeks after their fight.

At first, he revels in the quiet. He goes to work, hangs out with Tom and Vorona, sees his brother. Shinra has mentioned Izaya is busy with work or something, and that's why things have been running so smoothly.

After the first week, Shizuo begins to feel uneasy.

Izaya being quiet can't be a good thing, right? He's got to be involved in...something. He'd never allow Shizuo a moment's peace, and if he's letting it happen now, it means something worse is around the corner. Shizuo feels antsy and jittery, waiting for something he doesn't know for sure will happen.

By the second week, Shizuo is physically ill. He tries to carry on as usual. He's never been one to get sick, as his immune system is excellent, but he hasn't been sleeping much, and he thinks maybe he caught something because he hasn't been taking care of himself.

Tom takes one look at Shizuo and shakes his head, pointing to the door.

“No way, you look terrible. Vorona and I can handle things today. Go home and get some rest, man.”

“It's nothing,” Shizuo mutters, though he does feel terrible.

“You have plenty of sick days since you never use them. C'mon, go relax a little. I'll call and check in on you later,” Tom says, and Shizuo accepts defeat. Tom is hard to argue with, especially since he's never sent Shizuo home before. Shizuo must really look as bad as he feels.

“Would you like me to send you a list of remedies proven to alleviate cold symptoms?” Vorona asks.

“No, thanks though. I'll just try to sleep it off.”

He's lying on his couch later when his phone rings. He expects it to be Tom, but it's Shinra. Sighing, Shizuo answers, knowing Shinra will just keep calling.

“What?” he snaps.

“Shizuo-kun? You sound weird,” Shinra says.

“I'm sick.” Shizuo doesn't really want to tell Shinra that, as Shinra will likely use it as a reason to come bother him, but if he brings medicine along, Shizuo will tolerate it.

“Sick? You?” Shinra pauses. “You never get sick.”

“Yeah, I guess I'm due. I just feel shitty. I'm tired but I can't sleep and— ugh, my head is fucking throbbing.”

“Hmm. Did this just start today?”

“No, a few days ago. It's just been getting worse. Why? Is there something going around?” Shizuo asks. He hopes he didn't expose Tom and Vorona to the flu or something.

“You could say that!” Shinra laughs a bit, and Shizuo tenses up. He hates when Shinra does this, acts like he knows something no one else does, and then refuses to share. It reminds Shizuo too much of Izaya.

“Is there a reason you fucking called me? Your voice is making my head hurt worse,” Shizuo growls, and Shinra's laughing stops abruptly.

“Ah, sorry! Yes, Celty ran into Tom-san and Vorona-san today! She noticed you weren't there and asked me to call. I'll let her know you're fine.”

“I'm not fine. Do you have anything for headaches? All I have is ibuprofen and it's not doing shit.” Shizuo doesn't keep many pain remedies around. He's never really had a use for them.

“I don't think I have anything that'll help. Just get some rest and, uh. Let me know how you feel by Sunday.”

Shinra hangs up then, and Shizuo is left glaring at his phone. He's thankful it's the weekend. Hopefully, if he spends his off days lounging around and taking medicine, it'll pass by the time he's supposed to return to work.

Throughout the weekend, it only gets worse.

Saturday night, his head is pounding so bad he can't keep his eyes open. He tries to go to bed early and wakes an hour later feeling feverish. He gets out of bed to get some water, and then he winds up running to the bathroom to vomit. He's never gotten sick like this before. He calls Shinra, who promises to visit him in the morning.

Sunday morning, Shizuo is wrapped in two blankets on the couch. He's starving and exhausted, but he can't seem to eat or sleep. Even smoking isn't an option for him right now. He's miserable enough to relent to Shinra examining him. Shinra, of course, looks thrilled.

“So, you say it's been getting worse throughout the week?” Shinra asks as he takes Shizuo's vitals.

“Yeah. Every day it's just harder to deal with it,” Shizuo mutters. He's wearing his sunglasses inside because the lights are torturing him.

“I see,” Shinra says, and he studies the results he's written down. He frowns a bit, and then he pulls another chart from a file in his briefcase. He holds the two together in front of his face, and his face pales.

“What? What is it?” Shizuo asks, a little worried. He's been thinking this might be something bad, especially if his extremely powerful immune system can't fight it off.

“It's, uh. It's nothing,” Shinra squeaks, putting the papers away.

“You don't look like it's nothing,” Shizuo says. “What, am I dying or something? Aren't you legally obligated to tell me if I'm dying?”

“A simple check-up wouldn't tell me if you were dying,” Shinra says with a laugh, and then he's rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Look, I have an idea of what it is... But if I tell you now, you'll only get pissed off at me, and I don't want a fist in my face, especially if I'm wrong. I need to do something before I tell you for sure.”

“What the fuck?” Shizuo asks. “There's a test involved?”

“Yes! A test. We should know for sure by tomorrow!”

“I have to work tomorrow!” Shizuo protests.

“I'll give you some pills to take the edge off the headache. It won't get rid of it, but knowing you, you can power through.” Shinra packs up his things, and Shizuo scoffs at him.

“What incredible medical advice. You're telling me to deal with it.”

“I'm telling you it's nothing to worry over! Well...at least not at the moment. Worst case, you miss work tomorrow, too. Surely you have more than enough sick leave to use since you're never sick.” Shinra gives him a smile, and then he reaches in his pocket before tossing a pill bottle at Shizuo. “Take two of those. They might help you sleep, too.”

“Thanks,” Shizuo says dryly. “Do I need to do anything for this test of yours, or am I supposed to just wait around for you to get back to me?”

“Ah...” Shinra looks sheepish again. “I have to make another house call, and then... Well, if I survive, we'll figure it out from there!”

Shizuo doesn't bother asking for an explanation. Shinra never gives straight answers, especially if he's trying to avoid giving Shizuo bad news in person. Shizuo closes and locks the door behind Shinra when he leaves, and then Shizuo goes to the sink, puts two pills on his tongue, and chases them with water straight from the tap.

That night, Shizuo feels groggy and manages to sleep in waves, though it's always a fitful, shallow sleep. It's better than no sleep at all, and Shizuo feels well enough to heat up some canned soup and keep it down. He still feels feverish, so he's walking around his apartment with blankets draped over him. Tom calls a little after Shizuo washes his dinner dishes.

“Yo. Feeling any better?” Tom greets.

“Yeah, a little. Shinra came by and gave me some pills,” Shizuo says. He moves back towards the couch.

“If you need tomorrow off, just let me know,” Tom says. “We don't have any major targets anyway. Vorona can handle them.”

“I know. I'll wait till the morning to decide for sure. If I don't feel well, I'll give you a call.” Shizuo chats with Tom a little longer, and then he passes out in front of the TV.

Right after three in the morning, Shizuo wakes once more.

He feels terrible, but more than that, he feels ravenous, like he hasn't eaten in days. Technically, he hasn't, as soup doesn't count for much, nutrition wise. He groans and gets up from the couch, deciding to just walk to the convenience store down the street and find something to fill him up, as he doesn't have anything else to eat aside from rice.

There isn't anyone else on the street this early in the morning. Shizuo passes a few cabs, but he doesn't walk by anyone. It smells like rain, and the breeze feels good on his skin, though he shivers a bit as he walks. He's always enjoyed walking, especially when it's dark out. The way the lights illuminate everything around him make him feel relaxed, though his headache has him wearing his shades to keep the worst of the lights from exacerbating his already throbbing temples.

He grabs a few snacks and checks out with the clerk, who looks half-asleep and wary of Shizuo, who probably resembles a zombie at this point. Shizuo exits the store and lights a cigarette as he walks, knowing a good portion of his headache might be withdrawal. It drops from his lips and hits the ground when someone steps in front of him, the last person he'd like to see.

“Izayaaaaaaaa,” Shizuo hisses, tightening his hands into fists. He has to stop himself from throwing his snacks at Izaya, who doesn't seem well in the least.

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya lilts, waving his hand in greeting. He looks almost waifish, and the dark circles under his eyes make Shizuo wonder how bad his own must be. “You're up late.”

“I can't fucking sleep,” Shizuo says, and then he grumbles. “Why are you in Ikebukuro?”

“Oh, you know.” Izaya shrugs. “I can't sleep either, and it's been a while since I came this way.”

“You're too fucking close to my building,” Shizuo says, and Izaya feigns a surprised expression.

“You're right! I am awfully close to your hovel, aren't I? I must be delirious.”

“Are you sick? You look like shit.”

“So do you,” Izaya says, and then he crosses his arms. He sniffs a bit. “Are you going to break my arm if I go into the store? I was going to buy a bottle of tea.”

“They have tea in Shinjuku,” Shizuo says.

“Yes, but I'm already here!”

Shizuo expects his head to pound again, because out of everyone in his life, Izaya pisses him off the most. Weirdly enough, he feels...better? Maybe those pills Shinra gave him are starting to work.

“Whatever,” Shizuo mutters at last. “If you do anything, I'll kill you later. I'm too tired to deal with you right now.”

He walks towards Izaya, who stiffens a bit. He doesn't know why he does it, but Shizuo bumps shoulders with Izaya as he passes, and Izaya doesn't do anything in retaliation.

Both of them must really be sick and delusional.

***

When he wakes up again, Shizuo feels great, like he was never sick at all. He doesn't question it too much, since this is usually how colds work for him. He'll feel a little sluggish, and then perfectly normal again. Maybe this was just a bad flu or something. Either way, it's over now, so Shizuo goes to work as usual, and he doesn't think about it again until Shinra calls him a little after he gets back home.

“Did you see Izaya-kun last night?” Shinra asks as soon as Shizuo picks up the phone.

“What the... Yeah? I ran into him at fucking three in the morning.”

“Did you...interact with him?” Shinra asks.

“A little bit. We didn't fight. Is Izaya sick, too? He looked like a skeleton. I didn't feel right about attacking him.” Shizuo has a bad feeling in his stomach, and he doesn't know why.

“This might sound odd, but please don't get too angry,” Shinra says. “Did Izaya-kun touch you at all? Even in passing?”

Shizuo freezes in his tracks. He was going to his fridge to get a beer, but now his stomach is lurching uncomfortably.

“He... No. No, I brushed against him. I think I was threatening him, or... I mean, I didn't think about it.” Shizuo swallows. “Why?”

Shinra sighs, and Shizuo knows he isn't going to like what comes next.

“Your symptoms matched with Izaya-kun's. Everything on your chart, your heart-rate, your temperature, your maladies—everything matched. You both got sick at the same time, right when Izaya-kun was too busy with work to interact with you. It got worse and worse for the two of you until you saw Izaya-kun again, and as soon as you touched, even brushing past, both of your symptoms went away.”

“...huh?” Shizuo's voice sounds small even to him. Shinra clears his throat.

“Do you understand what it is I'm getting at? I know I...mentioned before about being mated to Izaya-kun. You refused to entertain the idea, and so did he. I couldn't do any tests without your consent. But now... Shizuo-kun, this is more than being mated. This is... Are you familiar with a soul bond?”

“A what? You're... Are you saying Izaya is my soulmate? This is— You're sure?” Shizuo wants to feel angry. He wants to refute this and prove Shinra wrong, but as it is, he just feels empty inside.

“I've told you before about the rarity of soulmates. Some people have marks, and every now and then, mated pairs will find each other. Neither you nor Izaya-kun have marks, so it was hard to tell, but when you both got sick from being apart... This is deeper than a normal soul-link, not that those are anything to take lightly. A bond is extremely, extremely rare. There's only been one case in the last year, and it's been over five years since any in Japan have been reported.”

“I don't... I don't get it. I have a soul bond with Izaya? What's that mean?”

“You and Izaya-kun are essentially two halves of one whole. You can't be apart from him without feeling the effects. As insane as it sounds, the two of you were able to keep yourselves sated by fighting—hitting each other, touching at all, even with ill-intent. The moment you met, this started, but it wasn't until you stopped seeing Izaya-kun that the withdrawal crept in.” There's the sound of shifting, fabric rustling. “I'm saying Izaya-kun is more than your soulmate, Shizuo-kun.”

“I don't believe you,” Shizuo says, though he does. He wondered, at least a little, why he felt better as soon as Izaya crossed his path. “You don't know for sure.”

“It's not one-hundred percent,” Shinra relents. “There are a few more tests I can do, if the two of you cooperate.”

“Fine, whatever, anything to prove you wrong!”

Shinra comes by the next day with a sheet of paper filled with questions. They're strange, it's by far the weirdest test Shizuo has ever taken. It asks about dreams, intrusive thoughts, sudden cravings he's had that he's never had before. He fills it out honestly, knowing that lying won't get him anywhere. When he's done, he looks expectantly at Shinra, who is reading them over.

“So?” he barks. “Do they match or whatever?”

“Izaya-kun hasn't taken his test yet,” Shinra says. “He's taking this much worse than you are.”

“Why?!” Shizuo growls. “He's the one who starts everything! He's the awful one! It should be me who refuses to cooperate!”

Shinra shrugs. “Tell him that.”

Five days go by, and Shizuo doesn't hear anything from Shinra. He also doesn't see or hear from Izaya, and by the sixth day, the headache is back. In a fit of rage, Shizuo finds himself opening Izaya's contact. He sends a text.

Does your head hurt?

An hour passes. Shizuo is about to stomp all the way to Shinjuku, but then his phone goes off.

Don't tell me you're actually entertaining this. Izaya sends.

What the fuck else am I supposed to do?

No response. Shizuo waits another fifteen minutes before sending another message.

What if he's right?

Izaya responds right away.

He's not right.

You must have thought he was a little since you came to see me at 3am.

No response. Shizuo roars in rage, which only makes his head hurt worse. He sends another texts, his thumbs pressing so hard against his phone screen, he worries he might crack it.

Take the fucking test or I'm going to tie you up and make you do it.

Kinky ;) Izaya sends.

TAKE THE GODDAMN TEST

Oh, fine. When he ends up being wrong, you can stop acting so pitiful.

The next day, Shizuo doesn't hear anything from Shinra or Izaya. Usually, he'd welcome the quiet, but at the moment, he wants to hear something, anything. His head is beginning to pound unbearably, and he has to take sleeping pills to even scrounge up a few hours of sleep. When he wakes, he has a missed call from Shinra, as well as a text message.

Izaya-kun's test matched yours exactly. I'm sorry.

Shizuo wants to throw his phone against the wall, but he doesn't. As angry as he is, he thinks he already knew. He knew as soon as Shinra mentioned it the first time, he just didn't want to accept it.

He lasts one more day before he's marching to Shinjuku. His head hurts, and he's feeling feverish, but he manages to make it through work. Tom asks where he's going in such a hurry.

“I'm going to kill Izaya,” Shizuo mutters, and he ignores the look Vorona and Tom give each other.

Shizuo bangs on Izaya's door until it opens, and an irritable woman looks back at him. His words die in his throat as she glares at him.

“He's in his room,” she tells him, opening the door. “It's right up the stairs.”

“Uh... Thanks?”

“Tell him I'm leaving for the day, please. I'm tired of dealing with him.” He watches as she gathers her things and leaves, and Shizuo waits only a few moments before he goes up the stairs.

Izaya is buried in blankets, looking as miserable as Shizuo feels. He glowers at Shizuo and rolls away, putting his back to Shizuo.

“Go away,” he moans.

“Izaya—“ Shizuo starts.

“No, I don't want to hear it. I don't want to talk about this.”

Shizuo growls. “Why are you being so shitty about this?! As if I'm happy about it! Aren't you supposed to be the smart one?”

“Shizu-chan, even if Shinra is right, what do you propose?” Izaya asks, and then he turns to look at Shizuo. “Do you know what soul bonds mean? You being here at all is going to make it worse.”

“What do you mean? I thought it would help?”

“It will, for a while. Every time we're in proximity, it's like a patch over the problem. It'll help a while, but the next time we feel this way, it'll be worse. We lose days every time.” Izaya rubs his hands over his face. “It's like it got even worse once Shinra opened his fat mouth. We were doing just fine before.”

“So what, then? You want to ignore it?” Shizuo asks.

“We can go on as normal, right? We can fight, and maybe if we draw out how often we see each other, we can lengthen the amount of time it takes before we have to see each other again. We'll...build a tolerance.”

“Fuck that! I feel like shit, and so do you! I'm not gonna just build a tolerance to feeling shitty! Who does that?!” Shizuo stomps towards the bed, and when Izaya meets his eyes, Shizuo freezes. Izaya looks scared. No. Izaya looks terrified.

“Don't touch me!” Izaya shouts, and Shizuo's entire body goes cold. “You idiot, just... Just leave, okay? You're making it worse.”

Shizuo runs his tongue along his teeth, counts to ten. He shakes his head.

“I'm not leaving. I'm not letting you ignore it.”

Izaya laughs, and it sounds completely hollow.

“Do you even understand what you're saying? It's not as if you want to be here. If you don't leave, and you insist on touching me, it's only going to get stronger.”

“Ignoring it isn't an option. It's gonna get worse even if we build a tolerance to it. So then what, it takes a month or so before we feel like this? We're gonna have to interact anyway.” Shizuo moves towards the bed, and Izaya watches him warily. “Might as well get it over with.”

Izaya rolls as far as he can when Shizuo sits on the edge of the bed. There's a large space between them, and Shizuo sighs before reaching out, his fingers skimming along Izaya's shoulder.

“I-za-ya,” Shizuo murmurs. “Come on. Meet me halfway here.”

“I hate you,” Izaya says, but he reaches his hand above the covers. Shizuo touches Izaya's hand timidly, and the instant their skin touches, their headaches vanish completely.

“Oh...” Shizuo breathes. He's close enough to watch Izaya's throat bob as he swallows, close enough to see Izaya's eyelashes. He traces his fingers along the soft skin of Izaya's knuckles, and they aren't holding hands, but Shizuo finds he wants to.

“You've only made it worse,” Izaya says. “The closer you get, the worse it'll be next time.”

“We aren't very close,” Shizuo says. “We don't have to get close. We can manage this much. Just...whenever it's bad, we can touch hands or something. It's not the end of the world.”

“You don't get it,” Izaya argues.

“So then tell me.”

Izaya just shakes his head, and then he pulls his hand away. Shizuo knows he isn't going to get anything else from Izaya, so he stands and leaves, the skin on his hand burning more and more with every step he takes away from Izaya.

***

It takes three days for Shizuo to understand what Izaya meant.

The next time the headache sets in, it's terrible. Shizuo's sunglasses do nothing to help his light sensitivity, and he winds up vomiting right in the middle of the sidewalk, Tom and Vorona on either side of him. They each take an arm and lead him to Shinra's, and the entire time, Shizuo is moaning in pain, trying to explain to them that it won't help.

They're at Shinra's for about fifteen minutes before Izaya stumbles in, looking haggard. Vorona and Tom stand instantly to defend Shizuo and tell Izaya Shizuo is in no shape to fight, but Shizuo shoves past them and hurries to Izaya, taking the informant into his arms like they're lovers.

“You fucking idiot,” Izaya murmurs, but he holds Shizuo just as tightly. “What have you done?”

“I'm sorry,” Shizuo says, and he presses his face into Izaya's hair. “I'm so fucking sorry.”

“Ah. Tom-san, Vorona-san, why don't you let me make you some tea?” Shinra asks, and the sound of footsteps leading from the door alerts Shizuo that he's alone with Izaya. He presses Izaya into the wall of the hallway, still hugging him tightly.

“I don't know what to do,” Shizuo admits. He's breathing Izaya in, and he wants to hate it, to feel as angry about Izaya's scent as usual, but he can't. He feels nothing but relief and comfort with every breath he takes. “Tell me what we can do.”

“There's nothing,” Izaya says, his voice muffled by Shizuo's shoulder. “You've doomed us both. It's only going to get worse.”

“Fuck,” Shizuo hisses. He nuzzles into Izaya's hair, can't think about why he's doing it. “Don't go away again. If it's worse every time, next time, I'm just gonna fucking pass out.”

“Shizu-chan...” Izaya's voice is small, unlike him. Shizuo offers a groan in response, letting Izaya know he understands completely. They don't let go of each other for quite a while.

“Man,” Tom says later when he and Vorona are walking Shizuo home. “Talk about a tough break. Being bonded to someone you hate? It's almost better not to be bound at all.”

“Statistically speaking, being bound at all—“ Vorona starts, and Shizuo grunts at her.

“I don't wanna hear the numbers. They only remind me how unlucky I am.” Shizuo is used to being an anomaly, but the universe really cursed him this time around. Vorona only shrugs, and Tom makes a face.

“Sorry, man. You wanna get drunk?” he asks.

“I'll just wake up hungover. Thanks, though. I'll keep it in mind,” Shizuo mumbles, and Tom and Vorona don't speak again.

The next day, it's all over the news that a couple in Japan are soul bound. Names aren't used, as neither Shizuo nor Izaya agreed to be named, but it seems like everyone is talking about it no matter where Shizuo goes. He wants to be pissed at Shinra for reporting it, but he knows why Shinra had to. If it's really so rare, it's kind of like some breakthrough case, and it gives other people hope. Shizuo is only glad his name wasn't used, and the only ones who know aren't blabbermouths, aside from Shinra, who fears Shizuo and Izaya both too much to say anything.

Part of Shizuo worries Izaya might try to work this to his own advantage, but Izaya seems every bit as displeased about it as Shizuo is, and Shizuo thinks Izaya won't want his name bound to someone's publicly either. They agree to meet the next day so they can fend off the sickness, and Shizuo goes to Izaya's place to make sure Izaya doesn't try to weasel his way out of it.

It isn't like the last time. Neither of them feel sick yet, so they're able to sit close to each other and touch hands while remaining far apart. Izaya scrolls his phone, not looking at Shizuo, and Shizuo tries to do the same, but it annoys him to be treated so impersonally.

“What are you doing anyway?” Shizuo snaps after a while, and Izaya turns to him with an eyebrow raised.

“Working,” Izaya says shortly.

“On what?”

“Sorry, I don't think that's your business?” Izaya says, smirking at Shizuo, and Shizuo tosses his hand away like it's diseased.

“God, I detest you. Whatever, I'm leaving.”

“Fine. Leave, then,” Izaya says, waving him away.

“I will!” Shizuo shouts back.

“I'm not stopping you! The door's right there,” Izaya says, and they glare at each other for a few moments before Shizuo stomps to the door and leaves, slamming it behind him.

They last one day.

Shizuo feels the headache settling in the second he arrives home from work. He vomits an hour later, and before he can even contact Izaya, Izaya is knocking on his door, a defeated look in his eyes.

Again, Shizuo takes Izaya into his arms. He doesn't think anything of it. The more he tries to rationalize it, the worse he feels about it, so he just listens to his body. He wants to be close to Izaya, wants to keep Izaya safe, wants to breathe Izaya in, so that's what he does. They stand at the door for a while, and then Shizuo carries Izaya to the couch, arranges them so Izaya is sitting on Shizuo's lap. If Izaya has any reservations, he doesn't voice them. He's silent as he hugs Shizuo around the neck, and Shizuo appreciates the lack of argument. They're stuck together in this, so he thinks the sooner they accept it, the better.

“Fuck,” Izaya says after a few minutes. He pulls away, and Shizuo makes a soft noise of protest before he pulls Izaya back. Their foreheads touch, and Shizuo closes his eyes, careful to swallow the moan that threatens to escape his lips. It feels so good to touch Izaya like this, to be this close. It's like a drug.

“I didn't mean to make it worse,” Shizuo says, his eyes still closed. He doesn't want to look at Izaya this close, worries he might try to kiss Izaya if he does. Izaya hums in response.

“You were right. It would've gotten worse no matter what we did,” Izaya says, and his hands settle on Shizuo's cheeks. Shizuo does moan then, can't help it. He feels Izaya go rigid against him.

“Did Shinra tell you the results of our test?” Shizuo asks. He has to say something to stop himself from opening his eyes. Izaya surely notices Shizuo is trying to distract him, but he goes along with it.

“He didn't tell you?” Izaya asks.

“Not about the test test, no. He told me our vitals were the same, but I didn't really understand the next part.”

“Mm. You described an odd dream I've been having. And you said you were craving ootoro despite not liking it much.”

“So?” Shizuo asks.

“That's my favorite food. As for the dream, it was about destroying some woman's shop. I had no idea who she was, but it was recurring.”

Shizuo inhales sharply, and then he laughs. He can't help it. His life is so incredibly odd.

“You really are my soulmate, aren't you? Fuck. This is insane. So we can share thoughts?”

“I think so. If we worked at it.” Izaya's nose presses against Shizuo's, and Shizuo opens his eyes, shivers at way Izaya is looking at him. “It's not uncommon for soul bonded pairs to be linked mentally, though I doubt either of us wants that.”

“Isn't it kind of inevitable at this point?” Shizuo asks, and Izaya laughs softly.

“Maybe. It's so rare that I don't know for sure.”

Eventually, Izaya untangles himself from Shizuo, and though Shizuo wants to yank Izaya back into his arms, he refrains. Izaya waves before ducking out of the apartment, and Shizuo just knows he isn't going to sleep well that night, whether their bond is satisfied or not.

He dreams of a big house, empty aside from himself and two babies. He's left to care for them, and he isn't good at it, but he has to be. He's all they have. He's cooking and then the smoke alarm goes off, and it wakes him up. He knows miles away, Izaya must be up, too.

Shizuo fights it as long as he can. He can feel Izaya fighting it, too. They last an entire two days before they wind up back together. Shizuo finds Izaya in a cafe, where he knows Izaya will be despite the fact they aren't talking. He takes one look at Izaya hunched in a chair, and then they're embracing, ignoring the looks of the other patrons.

“This place has excellent hot chocolate. Do you want some?” Izaya asks. Shizuo is entirely helpless to him, is resisting the urge to kiss Izaya silly.

“Yes. Fuck, whatever you want,” Shizuo murmurs, and Izaya trembles. He calls their order to the girl at the counter, and Shizuo takes Izaya's face in his hands, brushes his lips over Izaya's.

“Shizu...” Izaya breathes, and then their mouths are meeting. Shizuo groans against Izaya's lips, kisses him softly at first, and then brushes his tongue across Izaya's lips. Izaya resists, and Shizuo growls lowly in warning, and then their tongues are meeting, and Shizuo loses his mind at the taste of his mate. Izaya melts against him, and Shizuo's hands move under Izaya's shirt, span the soft skin of Izaya's back, and it takes the sound of the girl announcing the hot chocolate is ready for them to break apart. Shizuo tries to go retrieve it, but Izaya whines and pulls him closer, silently begging Shizuo not to let go of him. Shizuo carries Izaya to the counter, and then back to the table. He holds Izaya in his lap and lets the drink go cold in favor of tasting Izaya to his heart's content.

“Come over,” Shizuo pleads later. He's pressing Izaya to the wall outside. He knows they shouldn't make a spectacle of themselves like this, but he can't resist the call of Izaya's lips, and he knows Izaya feels the same.

“Shizu-chan... It's not a good idea,” Izaya says, trying to turn away from Shizuo's mouth. Shizuo yanks him back, licks inside Izaya's mouth with a low groan.

“I can't be without you anymore. I don't care what that makes us,” Shizuo says when they break apart again. “We can just sleep. I don't need anything but for you to be beside me.”

“Okay,” Izaya agrees at last, and he mewls enticingly when Shizuo licks at his neck. Shizuo doesn't know how he lived so long without the taste of Izaya on his tongue.

“Thank you,” Shizuo says, feeling pathetic. If Izaya tries to leave, he thinks he might go insane. He carries Izaya back to his apartment building, and he holds Izaya's hand while Izaya orders them takeout on his phone.

They wind up sharing lo-mein from the Chinese place nearby, Izaya feeding Shizuo a bite before taking his own. They pick at everything else, their eyes on each other as they try to eat, but eating isn't what their bodies are screaming for. Izaya just barely manages to set the takeout containers on the floor before Shizuo is pressing Izaya's body into the couch cushions, kissing him hungrily, desperately. Izaya wraps around Shizuo, kisses Shizuo back just as ravenously. Their bond sings between them, and when Shizuo grinds down against Izaya, Izaya gasps and rolls his hips up to meet him.

“Izaya... Izaya, fuck...” Shizuo manages, panting against Izaya's neck as they move together.

“Shizu-chan... We...nnn... We should stop...” Izaya breathes, and Shizuo whines in response.

“Do you want to...?”

“No,” Izaya says, and he looks up at Shizuo, his pupils blown wide. “What do you want?”

“I want you,” Shizuo says, and the second the words leave him, he feels the truth in them. Suddenly, the fact they've waited this long is ridiculous. They're mated. Mates can't be apart like this.

“Are you sure?” Izaya asks, and he runs his hands through Shizuo's hair. “If we do this, there's no going back. We'll never get away from each other.”

“So? I don't want to be away from you.” Shizuo turns his head, catches Izaya's wrist, and pulls Izaya's hand to himself, kissing the soft skin of Izaya's palm. “It's already too late for that, isn't it?”

Izaya breathes deeply, and then he shakes his head.

“It's not you talking. It's the bond. You need to think about this and what it means.”

“How am I supposed to think about it?” Shizuo asks. “If you go away again, I'm gonna lose my fucking mind. And when you're next to me, you're all I want.” Shizuo looks into Izaya's eyes. “What's left? What do I have to do to convince you that I need you?”

“I don't know,” Izaya says. He looks upset, and Shizuo hates it, wants to fight whatever is hurting Izaya like this, though he gets the feeling it's Izaya himself. “No one's ever... It doesn't make sense...”

“Izaya,” Shizuo says, and he hears the desire in his own voice.

“I'm supposed to go to America in a few days,” Izaya blurts suddenly, and Shizuo freezes above him. “I have a few clients there... I'm supposed to be gone for a month.”

“A month?” Shizuo asks, his mouth dry. “You can't. Izaya—we won't last a month.”

“I don't want this!” Izaya sits up, and Shizuo willingly backs away from him. “I don't want to be tied to you! You don't even fucking want me! You need me, and I don't...” Izaya pauses before looking down at the couch cushions. “It'd be different if it was anyone else, but you hate me. You've always hated me. We're only together because it stops you from feeling like shit.”

“That's the only reason you're here, too,” Shizuo says, and he can feel the despair coming from Izaya. It doesn't make any fucking sense. Neither of them want this... Izaya hates Shizuo just as much as Shizuo's always hated Izaya, right?

Izaya stands and hurries out the door. Shizuo feels the pull of their bond, but he doesn't chase after Izaya. He doesn't know what the fuck he's supposed to say.

***

Two days later, Shizuo is completely bed-bound.

Shinra comes by to give him painkillers and a lecture, but Shizuo shoves Shinra out the door before the doctor can say something too stupid. Celty stays behind, and Shizuo doesn't mind talking to her about it. She's his best friend, and she has his best interests at heart.

“So he's just going to go across the ocean for a month?” Celty asks. She fidgets. “I don't know much about soul bonds, but I don't think the two of you would survive that.”

“Izaya doesn't seem to care,” Shizuo mutters. He has his sunglasses on inside again. He knows Celty won't find it rude.

“Izaya knows he can't do it. No one could be away from their soulmate for that long.” Her shoulders sink with a sigh. “I love Shinra, but even we aren't soulmates. Shinra has a human lifespan, and... He'll die never finding his soulmate.”

“Does he have a mark?” Shizuo asks. He's often wondered this. It wouldn't make sense for Shinra, a human, to be bound to Celty.

“Yes. It's faded, grayed out on top. It means the person bound to him is already dead. He says he doesn't care, that he wouldn't love them anyway, because likely they'd have a head.” Celty doesn't have an expression to read, but Shizuo can read it all the same. She's looking at him imploringly, hopefully. She wants him to understand her meaning.

“What would you do, if you were me?” Shizuo asks. Celty has been around for a long time. More than that, he trusts her. She wouldn't lie to him.

“For starters, I wouldn't let him leave. It's basically a death wish for you both.” She pauses, her shadows swirling thoughtfully from her neck. “I don't know Izaya very well, but Shinra does. Shinra says Izaya is afraid of rejection, and that he's scared to be himself around anyone. I think Izaya just wants to know that you want him for him, and not because some otherworldly force is telling you to.”

“How am I supposed to convince him of that if I don't even know the answer for sure?” Shizuo asks, and he can tell she's sighing.

“How can you expect him to stay if he thinks you're doing it in spite of your hatred of him?”

“Fuck,” Shizuo murmurs, knowing she's right. “This is why I never talk to you about stuff like this. You're too smart.”

She whacks him on the shoulder, and he laughs, knowing she's laughing with him even if he can't hear it. When she leaves, he thinks about what she said, what Shinra said, and what Izaya said. He decides to go to Izaya's the next day. He'll make Izaya hear him.

In the morning, Shizuo wakes up to his alarm blaring, and he can barely move. Making it to Izaya's will be impossible, and he knows if he calls Izaya, Izaya won't answer. He considers calling Shinra and having Shinra intervene on his behalf, but there's no need. Shortly after noon, Shizuo hears clicking in the lock, and then the door is opening. Izaya stumbles inside, and Shizuo thinks that maybe Izaya was always the stronger of the two of them, because Izaya is still standing.

“I'm leaving later today,” Izaya says. He leans against the wall, his complexion slightly green.

“So why are you here?” Shizuo asks. “Even if you come over here with me, the effects won't last a month. You'll be overseas, and we'll both be too sick to function.”

“I'm here to tell you goodbye,” Izaya says, and he's inching closer, still tilting into the wall as he goes. “Maybe I'm here to take the edge off the pain until I'm too far for that to be an option anymore.”

“Izaya,” Shizuo says. He balances himself on his elbows as he lifts to look at Izaya. “Don't go.”

“Why not?” Izaya asks, halting in his tracks. “Why wouldn't I?”

“Because we need each other, because we're bound. Because every second you aren't around, I sense what you're thinking, have the same dreams as you, crave the same foods as you. Fuck, Izaya, I don't know. I love you, okay? Isn't that reason enough for you to stay?” Shizuo asks. He rolls off the couch, managing to stand on his knees.

“I've loved you since high school,” Izaya says, and Shizuo doesn't have to look for the truth in Izaya's words. He can tell they're honest. “I loved you before I knew of any bond. But you hated me. You hated me when we met, before I even did anything.”

“I was a pissed off teenager, and we both fought so much it never occurred to me I'd be bound to you. For fuck's sake, Izaya, have you ever considered I hated you because you were too fucking pretty to look at?” Shizuo asks, and Izaya's eyes widen.

“Is that a reason to hate someone?” Izaya asks, and Shizuo laughs bitterly.

“Yes. I hated myself and my strength, and you showed up next to Shinra, looking perfect. I didn't think I'd ever even deserve to be near you. And then you slashed me across the chest—“

“After you charged at me,” Izaya interjects.

“Yes. After that. I'm not denying my part in our feud, okay? I'm not denying any of it. I love you. I don't care what's making me love you, and I don't care if I need you, because I want you, too. I've wanted you longer than I've needed you. I've wanted you since we met.” Shizuo looks up, and Izaya is in front of him now, still standing. Shizuo wraps his arms around Izaya's waist and buries his face into Izaya's stomach.

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya says. His hands settle in Shizuo's hair.

“Izaya, please,” Shizuo breathes, and Izaya drops to his knees, his arms flying around Shizuo's neck before their lips meet. Shizuo pulls Izaya to him, kissing him as if his life depends on it, and with their bond satisfied, Shizuo is able to stand and pull Izaya along with him to the bed.

“I have lube in my pocket,” Izaya says, his eyes wide as he looks at Shizuo. “I just thought... I thought if it worked out, you wouldn't be prepared, so...”

“I don't need a condom, do I?” Shizuo asks, though he knows the answer already. Izaya is pressed against him from head to toe, and Shizuo can feel in their bond that Izaya has never been touched by anyone else.

“No,” Izaya says. “I... I've never wanted anyone but you.”

“Neither have I.”

It's not perfect. It's fast, clumsy. Izaya prepares himself because Shizuo is too afraid of hurting him, and once Shizuo is pushing himself into Izaya, neither of them lasts long enough for it to be thoroughly enjoyable. Shizuo thrusts once, twice, and comes inside Izaya with a whine. His hand circles Izaya's dick and barely pumps Izaya at all before Izaya joins him.

It's not great sex, but they both know as soon as it's over that they'll never be able to be apart again. Shizuo leans down and kisses Izaya's cheeks, his eyelids. He tastes tears on Izaya's face and feels in Izaya's feedback that Izaya is happy, comforted. Neither of them has to say anything at all.

They have each other a few more times that night, each time getting better. Izaya eventually cancels his flight, saying he knew all along that Shizuo wouldn't let him go. They fall asleep joined together, and they share the same dream, but in the morning, neither of them remembers it.

Shizuo wakes early and nuzzles into Izaya, who moans quietly before tugging Shizuo closer.

“Don't you have to work today?” Izaya asks, and Shizuo kisses him gently.

“I have a few sick days left.”

“Mmm,” Izaya hums, one of his hands moving over Shizuo's chest. He giggles suddenly and moves closer.

“What?” Shizuo asks sleepily.

“I'm tracing my name,” Izaya says, moving his fingers over where he carved his name in Shizuo before.

“Oh, fuck you,” Shizuo grumbles, but he doesn't really care much. He's far too pleased with their bond resonating between them, and he can feel Izaya is, too.

“You were always mine,” Izaya murmurs, and he kisses his name across Shizuo's chest, marks that won't scar, but are settled over a scar Izaya carved in the past, their first meeting, in fact.

“I was,” Shizuo says, and though he didn't always know it, he knows now that it's true all the same.

[slowly-writing]

Part of the Family: Part 8

Avengers x Kid!Reader

Part 1  Part 9

Word Count: 2635

You’re still feeling antsy later that night and you can’t fall asleep. You had texted MJ for a while, but it was late and you didn’t want to keep her up all night. You decided to grab a snack around 1am and saw the TV in the common room was still on. You walk in to turn it off only to see your mom sitting on the couch. She’s staring off in a daze, obviously not watching the movie that’s playing in front of her.

“Hey mom?” You call softly, drawing her attention. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, everything’s fine sweetheart,” she smiles at you, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I can tell something’s wrong, you don’t have to tell me what it is but I can sit with you, if that’s alright?” She smiles, a bit more genuinely this time, and pats the spot next to her.

“I’ll always say yes to time with my favorite teenager,” she says and you chuckle softly. She wraps her arm around your shoulder and you sit in silence for a while. You’re half paying attention to the weird action movie when her voice draws your attention. “We had a really hard time on that mission.”

“In Sokovia? What happened?” You ask and you feel her arms tighten around you.

“A lot. It got really bad. I didn’t think we were gonna make it out.” You stiffen slightly and look up at her to see her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I thought it was over, and all I could think about was that I was leaving you alone again. Wanda, she has these powers. She made us see things, our greatest fear I guess. She didn’t know what she was doing, she thought she was on the right side. But I saw you. You were all alone again and scared and then it almost happened. One mission and you almost lost your whole family in one fell swoop.”

“I wouldn’t have made it,” you say softly as her tears start to fall.

“I like to think you would. But these missions…they’re not a joke, y/n. Things get dangerous really fast. All you want to do is help, use the gifts you have for good, and I love you for it. Seeing your face when you came back from that first mission, I think that was the proudest moment of my life. Knowing that my daughter was so happy to be able to help people, I like to think I did something right to help you become that way. In that moment, all I wanted to do was send you on every mission that I could, see that joy in your eyes and see the good you could do in this world,” she smiles at you as she wipes the tears.

“So many of our missions are running in and out of bases with barely anybody there. We knock a few people out, grab what we need, and leave with barely a scratch. I forget how dangerous this job is but then I go on missions like this and I remember what we’re really up against. I remember it’s not always Hydra agents who think they’re saving the world or stupid kids who think on the right side of the fight they know nothing about. It’s people who are truly evil, people who want to destroy this world and will go right through us to do it. I remember why I didn’t want you to go on missions in the first place.” Her voice cracks and you take her hand.

“When we decided to go down with the ship… I hated myself for leaving you alone, but it was okay. Because at least you weren’t there. None of us were coming home, but you weren’t part of that. You’d make it out. That’s why I don’t want you out there. I need you to be okay.” She finishes and you sit in silence for a few moments before you respond.

“I know you want me to stay safe, mom. And I get it, but that isn’t a choice I can really make anymore. I was talking to dad earlier, about what these…powers I guess, have taken from me, and it’s a lot. I can’t be normal anymore and that sucks. If I could flip a switch and get rid of them, sometimes I think I would. But I can’t, so here we are.” You say softly.

“By any semblance of logic I shouldn’t be here. Some scientists in a lab decided to play God and I’m the product of it. That shouldn’t have happened, but it did. I somehow got here and got in a position where I can do a lot of good. And that’s a really scary spot to be in. I think all of us can agree on that. No matter what the moment was, we all had a moment where we questioned if we were right for this job. If we were good enough to be what people think we are,” you say, trying to put into words the thoughts that have been swirling around your head since Fury showed up all those years ago.

“None of us know when our time is going to come. I could walk outside tomorrow and get hit by a car, and that could be it. Well… I don’t think a car could do it, a train maybe,” you joke and you hear your mom laugh lightly. “My point is, we don’t know what’s waiting for us, but we do know we can do a lot of good before it comes. I didn’t ask for these powers, but I got them, and when you can do the things that we can do and you don’t, and then bad things happen, they happen because of you.”

“When did you get to be so smart?” Your mom teases and you smile, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“I had the smartest Avenger as a mother, a little was bound to rub off on me.” She smiles and kisses the top of your head.

“You going out there still really scares me,” she says softly and you smile.

“It scares me too. Anytime any of us put on our suits and walk out the door I’m afraid of what’s waiting. But if we let that fear stop us, then those guys win. We can’t stop everyone, and one day one of us is bound to go down. It’s just statistics. We can only cheat death so many times before it catches up. But if they don’t go through us, they’re going to go through a lot of innocent people who can’t do anything to stop it. I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t live with myself if I let that happen.”

“I get it, I’ll let you go on the next mission,” your mom says and you laugh. “I love how much you care. Never let go of that, love.”

“I’ll do my best.”

xxxxx

“Hey Wanda, so as you saw I kinda don’t have my bike anymore and therefore I can’t drive us to school today,” you say sheepishly at breakfast the next morning. “It’s like 5 miles, we can jog there if we leave soon, get some extra conditioning in? I don’t really know if your powers work that way but-”

“That sounds good to me,” she cuts you off with a smile and you nod, calming yourself down a bit. Maybe it’s the leftover emotions from the day before, a lot happened, but you’re still really antsy.

“Hey mom? Can you pick us up after school? I don’t wanna make MJ walk that far,” you ask her and she pauses.

“How long have you been driving her around on that bike without a helmet?” she asks and you wince.

“Since...uh, since you started letting me drive it to school,” you say softly and she rolls her eyes.

“Seriously, y/n? And you never got pulled over?” she asks in disbelief.

“Well…I may have gotten pulled over once but when the cop saw the last name on my license he apologized and let me go?” you say and Tony immediately starts laughing.

“He apologized?” he asks through his laughter and you nod.

“Perks of the entire NYPD respecting the hell out of your parents and also being simultaneously terrified of both of them.”

“So, really this is your fault,” Tony says to your parents who both glare.

“How is that our fault, Stark?” Steve asks.

“Well, you’re the ones who adopted the kid and made her famous,” Tony says and Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Not like we had much of a choice. We avoided it for as long as we could,” she says and you furrow your brow.

“I’m going to choose to ignore how much that makes it sound like you regret adopting me,” you say softly and your mom immediately jumps up and walks over to you.

“No, y/n. That is not at all what I meant. I was talking about everybody knowing who you are. I have never for a second regretted adopting you, okay? I love you so much.” You nod at her.

“I guess you couldn’t have dad carry me away from movie theaters forever. Anyways, about that ride?” you ask, wanting to change the subject and she smiles apologetically.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I leave for a mission in a few hours,” she says and you nod looking at Clint.

“I’m going with her,” he says and you sigh.

“Dad? Can you pick us up?” you ask.

“Sorry, doll. I have a meeting with Fury this afternoon.”

“Tony?” he shakes his head.

“Bruce?” He makes a similar gesture and you groan.

“There’s 800 people living in this tower and not one of them can pick me up from school?” you hear Wanda laughing and you glare before she covers it with a fake cough.

“You run a 2 minute mile and bench press 600 pounds. Pick her up and run here, lazy,” Clint says and you roll your eyes.

“I may just do that,” you say getting up to leave.

xxxxx

“Hey, how are you doing today?” MJ asks as you jog up to school and you smile and pull her into your arms.

“Is it too cheesy if I say better now that you’re here?” you ask and she rolls her eyes.

“Yes. It is much too cheesy, so don’t say it,” she says, but you can see how she’s smiling slightly.

“Got it,” you say softly before heading inside. When you walk through the doors you see Flash standing in front of Peter and you immediately glare. You’re getting really sick of his games. You see Flash push him and Peter stumbles into a row of lockers, trying not to give away his powers. In reality it probably had very little effect on him, but that’s not the point. You storm over and grab the straps of Flash’s backpack, slamming him against the lockers he just pushed Peter into. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t beat the shit out of you right now, Thompson,” you growl and his eyes go wide. “Please, you always have something to say so why don’t you tell me why you deserve to walk free after how you’ve been treating Peter? That kid has been nothing but kind to everybody here, so tell me, why should you get away with how you treat him?”

“Y/n it’s okay,” you hear Peter saying next to you but you don’t back off.

“You see that? Even after the way you treat him he still comes to your defense,” you say, your voice dangerously quiet as you push him harder into the lockers. He’s too afraid to even speak.

“Y/n, calm down,” you feel MJ put a hand on your shoulder and you exhale slowly.

“If I EVER catch you messing with him again, you and I are gonna be right back here. And you won’t be walking away next time. Do I make myself clear?” you say and he nods, “I said do I make myself clear!”

“Yeah-yes. I’ll leave him alone,” he says and you hold him for a second, trying to convince yourself to let him go.

“Good. Now stay the hell away from my family,” you say, dropping him after a few seconds and he immediately runs away. You turn around and see everyone in the hallway staring at you and your breathing starts to pick up again. Your eyes flit around until you find the familiar brown ones that never fail to calm you down.

“What do you need?” MJ asks quietly as your eyes meet.

“I need to get out of here. Now.” She nods her head and grabs your hand, leading you towards the bathroom and closing the door behind you. You immediately sink down against the wall, pulling your knees up to your chest and holding your head in your hands, trying to control your breathing.

“Hey, look at me,” your eyes shoot up to where MJ is crouched in front of you. “Just take deep breaths with me, slow deep breaths. There you go, you’re okay y/n. Everything’s okay,” you let her voice calm you down as you catch your breath.

“Okay, I’m okay,” you say, moving to get up but she takes your hand.

“Just take a minute, there’s no rush. Just give yourself a minute to calm down,” you nod your head and she sits with you until you’re ready to go to class.

xxxxx

“You’re kidding me, right?” MJ asks and you raise an eyebrow at her.

“You wanna walk 5 miles?” she shakes her head, “Didn’t think so, hop on.”

“This is ridiculous,” MJ says as you crouch to give her a piggyback ride. You had put your homework in Wanda’s bag and stashed yours in your locker so it didn’t get in the way.

“Well it’s our only option until I get my bike back, speaking of there’s a motorcycle shop on the way home, can we stop and buy a new helmet?” you ask and they both agree.

Twenty minutes later you’re slowing to a stop in front of the tower, “see it wasn’t that bad!”

“Everyone was staring!” MJ argues and you roll your eyes.

“I’m Black Widow and Captain America’s kid. People stare at us no matter what we’re doing.”

“Whatever,” MJ says taking the black helmet out of your hands, “I’ll give this back to you next week, okay?”

“Uh, sure. Why?” you ask a little confused.

“You’ll see,” she says with a smirk and you just shrug before unlocking the door.

xxxxx

“I finally got the bike back,” you say, spinning the keys around your finger, “you don’t have to be embarrassed anymore.”

“About damn time,” MJ teases pushing off your locker, the new helmet in hand. “I brought your helmet back.

“Oh no, you can have the new one, I’ll take the old one,” you offer and she rolls her eyes.

“Stop being chivalrous for five seconds and look at it, Romanoff-Rogers,” she says shoving it towards you. You turn it over in your hands and see your shield on the back.

“You painted this?” you ask and she nods with a grin. You smile at her briefly before pulling her by the waist and crashing your lips into hers. She freezes for a second before placing her hand on your neck and kissing you back.

“Finally!” Peter yells and you pull away.

“You have really shit timing Parker,” you groan before looking down at MJ.

“I guess that means you like it?” she says with a smile and you grin.

“I love it,” you say before pulling her in again.

tag list: @rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @freerebel @prizmix-and-friends

series tag list: @hannahsairwave @niquey-salvatore @ibe-anne

[sparklyaxolotlstudent]

I got bored inspired today and decided to wite the Wackynette Story of “HawkMoth is” where Marinette does a presentation about why and how Lila is secretly Hawk Moth (Her assignment was to do tabloid news)

Also got inspired by @Rarity36 comic about the same thing, thank you!

semi salt, but not really.

-

Hawk Moth Is…

Or the Dangers of Assigning a Tabloid Report to Very Smart Students

The day started ordinary for the Class of Miss Bustier. Today lesson was on News and how they can be shared. To make the lesson a bit more fun, after they had covered all of them, the teacher had decided to assign each pair of student to investigate a current event and make a presentation in the style of said event. Lila immediately asked Alya to be her partner.

“Oh, we can dress up as journalists and make our presentation as something worth of a Newspaper!”

“But Miss Bustier” asked Marinette spoke up. “There are 15 of us, and the assignment is on pairs… one of us will be left on its own”

“Oh, don’t worry Marinette, I’m sure whoever that is can make a wonderful job on their own!” replied Lila with fake sweetness. Of course that with her claiming Alya, it was highly likely that Marinette would be left on her own. Marinette just glared at her. “Don’t get mad at me, I’m only joking!” Lila added with more fake sweetness. Alya giggled.

“I’ll be sure to make things fair. For starters, I’m making the pairs” she looked around the class, who groaned. “And I’m also assigning what kind of media will each do”

Miss Bustier took a small glass bowl from under her desk, along with a hat; both seemed to be filled with papers.

“Now, I’m going to take out your names from this bowl to make the pairs so everything is fair. No changes or substitutions are allowed, all pairs are final” she grabbed the hat. “And this hat has all the different media we saw, to make everything fair, it will be also random”

Marinette was one of the last chosen, and she was paired with Juleka, to work on a tabloid. Lila snickered, and Alya gave Marinette her condolences for having to work on “fake news”

At the end, only Adrien, Lila and Chloe were unpaired. Marinette felt a bit bad for hoping that Adrien would be on his own, but then a Christmas Miracle happened…

“Only three people…” Miss Bustier took one of the papers left “Adrien with” Marinette held her breath, as did the other two girls. “Huh… Markov? I don’t remember putting his name here…”

“No charges or substitutions allowed, all pairs are final” Markov played a recording of Miss Bustier. She just shrugged.

“Well, I did say that. Adrien, you’re with Markov. Lila and Chloe, you’re the last pair”

The two girls looked at each other, mouths agape. Even with Markov lacking a face, they could swear he was grinning at them.

“Good luck on your presentation” called Marinette to Lila and Chloe after the day was over.

Working with Juleka was a blast, even without taking in account that they also worked on her room, which meant Luka was present sometimes. They actually came to the realization that working on a tabloid would be easier than what their classmates had gotten, as it meant that they would only need to think on something current, and then lie their asses off in a sensationalistic way.

So of course they choose the most unbelievable thing they could, and went from there.

-

The day of the presentation came, with Chloe and Lila presenting something worth of a news show, and that was obviously made by professionals that Chloe’s dad paid. However, they forgot to cite their sources, so Miss Bustier had to take off some points of their grade.

“Marinette and Juleka are next, their theme is a tabloid”

The two girls stood up from their respective seats. Like Chloe and Lila before them, they were dressed in pantsuits that no doubt Marinette had designed, Juleka with her a dark purple that almost seemed black, with a textured fabric that looked like giant feathers, Marinette with a soft pink one that it took the others a double take to realize the blazer was simulating a skirt. Even Chloe seemed impressed.

“Yes, yes. Hello everyone, as you know, the Tabloid is a type of newspaper that is smaller, and covers more sensationalistic stories, celebrity gossip and such, most of their stories are dubious or outright fake.”

“They are famous in the states for reporting Bigfoot and UFOS, for example”

“So today, our news is the most unbelievable thing we could think of!”

Marinette pressed a button on her tablet, and the screen behind them appeared, it looked like the cover of a tabloid, with sensationalistic views talking about monster sightings, Andre the Ice cream man being secretly a spy, Luka being a vampire and other nonsense the girls could think of. The biggest font and the main news red “We discovered the identity of Hawk Moth!!!!”

“First of all, we want to thank Nathaniel for taking time of his own project to help us with the illustrations for ours”

“You’re welcome!” said the boy, who was also wearing a dark red suit, also designed by Marinette. Kim, his partner, was equally dressed, with his vest and pants being a weird shade of brown.

“Without further ado…”

“EXTRA, EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT!” yelled both girl at the same time. Marinette pressed the tablet again, and the screen changed.

“Exclusive news, ladies and gentlemen! We have discovered the identity of Paris Number One Criminal! The one and only Hawk Moth!” Juleka said quickly in an excitable voice that everyone found uncharacteristically of her. Miss Bustier smiled, knowing that Marinette was being a good example for her.  Everyone gasped, forgetting it was tabloid news.

The next screen had a very cool illustration of someone transforming into Hawk Moth. Everyone immediately knew who it was meant to be.

“WHAT? Marinette!” Alya protested, surprising no one. Except maybe Lila. “That is slander! There is no way Lila is Hawk Moth!” she turned to their teacher. “Miss Bustier, you can’t possibly allow Marinette to continue!”

“Actually, it was my idea” said Juleka, much more meekly than before. Miss Bustier frowned and looked sternly at Alya.

“We are supposed to do a tabloid, so of course we are doing something bogus and ridiculous. Besides, Lila knows we are only joking” Marinette winked at the rest of the class, who all laughed making Lila furious

“They are right. Statistically speaking, tabloid news are very likely to be fake news, or greatly exaggerated ones.”

“Thank you Max” said Miss Bustier. “Girls, you may continue with your presentation”

“Thanks!” Marinette pressed another button, and it was Lila as Volpina. “As we all know, Lila was akumatized the first day she started class with us, and…”

“That proves she’s not Hawk Moth! She can’t be akumatized and be hawk moth at the same time!” Alya practically jumped out of her seat. Miss Bustier looked at her disappointed. Marinette looked at her, but ignored her comment.

“As we all know, the power of Volpina dealt with Illusions, and one of her illusions was, precisely, that of Hawk Moth appearing in plain sight”

“Now, you are wondering, why is that important?” several classmates nodded. “Because up to that point, we had only seen Hawk Moth’s head made of butterflies back on the Stone Heart incident, and we didn’t see the actual Hawk Moth until much later, on Heroes day” Marinette pressed a button, and an image of the head of Hawk Moth made of butterflies appeared, along with a blurry picture of hawk moth the day of Volpina, and another higher quality picture of Heroes Day, everything with their respective credits.

“So, I ask, how did Lila, AKA Volpina know how Hawk Moth looked, when no one else did?”

The class breaks in whispers. They seem to forget again that it is supposed to be fake news.

“But Hawk Moth is a guy! An adult man!”

“All the better to cover herself by pretending her alter ego to be of other gender and age. Something she can do as Volpina”

“And speaking of Volpina… do you know where she took that name from?” Most of the class shook their head. “Well, interesting fact! Adrien Abigail Agreste…”

“Please don’t use my middle name”

“Duly noted. Adrien Agreste brought a book from home the same day that Lila appeared…”

“Oh, and what did that book contained?”

“Excellent question Juleka! The book contained information on the Miraculous and their past holders, and it was actually the property of Adrien’s father, Mister Gabriel Abigail Agreste”

Adrien just head desked.

“And Lila grabbed the book for inspection. Adrien almost caught her, so she just threw the book on the thrash”

“That makes no sense, how would I know what it contained? Heck, how do you know?” Alya did notice that Lila had not denied that she had taken the book.

“My house is in front of the park. I saw you guys and thought I would approach and say hi.”

“Didn’t you say you were eavesdropping?”

“They were talking when I approached them, so technically, yeah.”

“Wait… you recovered the book from the thrash? You were the one to return it to my father?”

Marinette blushed a deep shade.

“What? You mean that part is real? Dupain-Cheng is the reason you returned to school?”

“Well, I’m not saying Lila did took my father’s book, but it disappeared after she showed interest in it”

“I can’t believe you’re accusing me of…”

“We’re not, this is a tabloid, remember?”

“And continuing, Lila going abroad after that…”

“AHA! If Lila wasn’t here, it means she couldn’t have attacked! Seh was too far away!” Alya again almost jumped from her seat.

“I would like to remind everyone that we all went to space thanks to an akuma”

“Swimming in space was the best”

“So, Lila going abroad and then returning coincides with the appearance of Mayura, which can only mean that she went to search for the Peacock Miraculous”

“Right and I’m Mayura too?”

“That’s info for another article”

Kim raised his hand.

“We’re not making another article”

Kim lowered his hand, disappointed.

“So, like we were saying, it’s highly suspicious that Lila joined the class with a 90% akumatization rate”

“Actually, it’s 87.5% akumatization rate if we count Miss Bustier”

“We counted the doubles”

“Ah”

“Why would someone join the Akuma Class, if not for gain intel about how to get more akumas”

“Not to mention the other teachers and students that have been akumatized too. Our school is a focal point for akumas… almost like the akumas came from inside the school!”

Everyone went quiet, looking at Lila with dread. Even if Marinette and Juleka were joking, they were raising very fair points. Lila seemed to be contemplating this.

“And we all have been akumatized at one time or another.” Juleka eyed Marinette. “Well, most of us. And some of us have witnessed other people becoming akumas. A common thread is that Hawk Moth knows exactly what the person wants due to his empathy powers. And Lila is a good friend who always knows what to say to make us feel better. Coincidence? Or an innate ability granted by her miraculous?!”

Lila was wide eyed looking at the two in the front. Everyone else was whispering again.

“Of course, one of the most common symptoms post akumatization is the loss of memory of what one does as an akuma. So it stands to reason that Lila might not know that she is, in fact, Hawk Moth, especially if she akumatizes herself each time so Hawk Moth takes over"

“Any questions?”

Literally everyone raised their hand. Even Miss Bustier and Markov, despite him not having hands.

“Great! That concludes our presentation.”

“Excellent job girls, you get full marks!”

Marinette and Juleka high fived each other, and went to take their respective seats. Everyone kept staring at Lila. Nathaniel slided away from Lila so much he actually fell from his seat, landing on his butt. Lila was staring at her feet, having a bit of an existential crisis

“Adrien and Markov, you’re next”

[kdenbibi]

Boo

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x African American! Reader

Request: Hello! Could I make a request please? Could you write an African American! Exchange student! X Kaminari Denki?(or Hitoshi Shinsou, all my faves are problematic) If I need to be more specific, I have an idea: •The reader is normally a tough girl, but Since its spooky season™️ the two of them decide to go to a haunted house and it turns out she gets spooked pretty easily -> teasing ensues But anything would be fine because I like your writing style! If you dont have the time, that's ok, thank you!

AN: I'm sorry if it's short and or trash but I love this goofy fool sm and I'm really happy someone requested him!!! (ALSO I HATEMYSELF YOU REQUESTED THIS IN OCTOBER AND IM POSTIN IT IN JUNE END ME)

"Remind me again why I agreed to do this shit?"

"I’ve always said one day my daring charm and wit would finally getcha’- please don’t go I was just playing!" He laughed out catching my elbow before I could escape the oncoming headache. 

"No, you said we were going to a pumpkin patch dickhead, this ain’t a pumpkin patch." You felt your eye twitch as you walked closer to your real destination, the scariest Halloween attraction in your town.

"I may have stretched the nature of the pumpkins, they'll still be here! Just on the heads of people trying to kill you in a corn maze.”

 Almost as if to emphasize his statement shrill screams coming from within the maze finally reached your ears, and shit did it send a chill up your spine, but you weren’t about to tell him that. Huffing out a laugh you turned to face the eccentric blonde, "We're gonna have to square up after this you know that right?"

"What? I'm not a square! I picked this place after all." He boasted gesturing to the haunting atmosphere hanging over the two of you, before you could correct him on the term a particularly loud shriek had the both of you jumping in place, the sudden movement caused your hand to ever so slightly brush against his, unknown to you, but the harmless action had his heart racing faster than the zombie that chased the two of you from the ticket booth to where you now stood.

“If something grabs me i’m going to hit you.”

He laughed holding a hand to his chest in mock hurt, “Why are you gonna hit me?! I’ll only grab you if you ask- wAIT STOP LEAVING.” 

“Well i’m not gonna hit the worker, they’re just doing their job.”

“You know I’m surprised.”

“What that I actually dragged my ass outta bed to be here? Me too.”

“No, well yes and no heh.” You turned to face him, overly aware of your place in line and how it slowly but surely grew closer to the dark entrance.

“Well you seem kinda..”

“Is there an end to that sentence?”

“Don’t bite my head off okay?” he anxiously toyed withe the strings of his hoodie, his eyes darting around from your face to the floor,

“You almost seem kinda, scared?”

“Boy if you don’t-”

“Next.”

Was the only word the doorman said as he ushered the two of you forward, cutting off your defense before it could begin, you’ve been in burning buildings, the bad end of a gun fight and can proudly say you’ve talked back to your mama and lived to tell the tale, statistically, you a bad bitch, things can’t shake you.

cept’ this.

The air seemed to grow colder as you wordlessly moved forward, your hands twitched at your sides, the longer nothing happened the tighter you tensed up.

“Pretty cool huh?” he whispered at your side making you jump nearly two feet in the air, your hands flying up to press against your temples.

“Whhhat the hell man? Why would you go and do some shit like that?”

He tried in vain to bite back a smile at your reaction, pausing his steps he stared down at you, “So you are scared!”

“Well no, your loud ass whispering caught me off guard is all.” He rolled his eyes, the grin on his face only growing as you suddenly picked up the pace, he had to jog to not lose you.

“Wait up a second here-”

“What good does that do anyone in horror movies ever? Exactly.” He laughed tugging at your sleeve.

“Come on! I’ve been asking you out since you transferred and you finally said yes, stay a while.” The urge to clown him for the line was strong, only outweighed by the urge to throw him a bone, to his credit, he had been asking you out since your first day in class, you gave him an elaborate excuse not to go every single time, it became sort of a game, no matter how ridiculous the lies got, he never argued, never got mean like a lot of people do when they get rejected, instead he’d laugh along and swear one day he’d get you to say yes, and somewhere, along the way, among the jokes and terrible, garbage pick up lines, you began to notice a few things about Denki Kaminari.

The first was that he had two sides, the guy who tries to be cool, the school flirt, this is the guy he usually was, but there was also this version of him that switches his Netflix to English when you come over, just to make it easier for you to enjoy, the kinda guy that sends you memes when you’ve had a bad day, the kinda guy who actually remembered how homesick you got talking about Halloween back home so he tried to surprise you with what he no doubt thought was a good idea.

Points for effort.

You sighed slowing your pace to fall beside him, once ore you continued forward in silence, you finally came to a choice in the path, left or right.

“So, where we going?” you asked subtly inching closer to him, the skin crawly feeling seemed to spread as you stared down the offending paths,knowing no matter where you went, some scurry shit was waiting for you.

“You tell me gorgeous.”

“Why the hell should I know?” he rolled his eyes, tugging you with a grin

“Fine! Lets go this way.” he began walking to the left, to his surprise you’d suddenly latched on his arm pulling him back.

“D-Don’t the screams sound louder down there?”

He tried to memorize the way you wrapped around his arm, not knowing if he’d get the chance again, he was so caught up he nearly forgot how to speak.

“Okay, no problemo, uh right it is-” a shout from that direction halted both your steps.

“Well shit.”

“Took the words right out my mouth.” 

“Only way out is through babe.” he hesitantly gripped your hand in his own, his hold loose enough for you to pull away, when you didn’t, he swallowed thickly before tightening his grip.

“Come on, I got you scaredy cat .” he gently tugged your rigid form along thanking every deity he knew he found this place online

“If you let me die on our first date I’m telling god.”

“Ah-Ha! You admit this is a date?”

“Yes! whatever get me thefuckupouttahere!” your words were rushed as you tugged him forward, sidestepping a zombie on the floor, your grip was iron but he couldn’t find the heart to care, not when you were wrapped around him in a way he’d only imagined before.

The rest of the event was a blur as you dodged any and everything you seen, in fact it wasn’t until he pointed it out did you realize you'd ran all the way back to the train station. 

While you leaned on your knees and desperately tried to get air back into your body, he was busy watching you with the sweetest little smile curling on his lips, because even in a moment like this you were still the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, and as that thought processed, he understood just how whipped he was.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that be so scary.”

“Okay, you wanna makes jokes huh, fine next time we’re going on the biggest roller coaster in japan and I’m gonna watch your soul leave your body.”

“Can’t wait sugar.” he said looping an arm around your shoulders.

[hoaxexistence]

Thoughts

I finished the show last april and im doing my 2nd full rewatch and this time I'm watching it alongside the commentaries so im kind of in a slow pace. Lol. I said up there that it's my 2nd full rewatch bec for i time i was watching random episodes until i had the copy of the commentaries. So far here are my thoughts for the first 13 episodes.

“I see your value now.”

Episode one is a actually a great start. I mean sure they are clearly finding their dynamics but still, it has great scenes and lines and not all shows got that strong pilot. Really love that panning up shot of the school at the end.

“Milady, milord”

Spanish 101 is a fun episode, really hilarious. Ken jeong is funny, and hey i actually see britta better now. I remember watching this show the first time and i tried to like her but ended up liking annie instead. But now im actually seeing her. I like the bit where they did their presentation and annie was in a boat and alison had tears, cracks me up. Also i like jeff and annie so the tiny detail of the first milady milord here is so personal to me. AND the tag!! The bibliotheca rap, God was it iconic.

“falafel as fallback”

Introduction to film. Oh the first time i read this, the film buff in me just cheered! It was really sweet of britta to do that for abed and i see in this episode how they really treasure him as a person and i really love that, that's what he deserve.

(im writing all of these from memory and my memory sucks so these first few may not be that greatly executed.)

“you asked me to stay and you said we we're friends”

Ah social psychology. I love that line from abed so much and Annie's reaction. She was taken aback with how her words meant to him and i am deeply touched as well as her. My favorite part in the cold open was chang and Annie's moment hahhaha. Aaaaand, jeff and Shirley moments were here! Shirley's really funny and i love that part when she just makes fun of vaughn's nips hahah. I love the friendship between her and jeff. Also the tag is funny. Trobed tags are funny.

(i started sliding through the episodes now just to refresh my memory. Lol)

“because if crazy people can't be at Greendale, then where are we supposed to go”

Advanced Criminal Law. The freakin gif that I've been seeing for a long time finally had a story for me. (That one when chang was looking at the tiny paper. Lol) I love jeff and britta's relationship as well as annie and pierce's that were shown in this. Yes, jeff was helping britta to be closer to her because he wanna sleep with her but more than that, he likes her and he's her friend and he wants to not be an ass even for a while. Annie's cheerleading story was a good bit. Lol.

“I peed alone my whole life. Women have always hated me.”

Football, feminism, and you!! Aaaaa i love this episode. I said that I never liked britta that much but that's my biased opinion talking. I usually don't like characters i see myself in, so yea, at times i could really relate to britta. This actually talked about her too though they kinda did that already in the previous episode but of course, the show is introducing us to these characters so it's necessary for characters to overlap stories duh. Oh and this is the first commentary that alison brie was in because this is kind of a big moment for annie here, though this episode is for troy, okay this episode is for everyone dammit 😂. Anyway this is where i started to really appreciate annie and where they actually put a clearer path to her character, though still navigating. I love her confrontation with jeff and how his reaction after looks like hehe. Also that last scene before the tag, another milady milord. uwu

“I am batman. Or am I?”

Introduction to Statistics! WHEN DAN CONFIRMED THAT THAT DANCE SCENE BETWEEN ALISON AND JOEL MADE THEM CONSIDER JEFF AND ANNIE was a great bit from commentary. This is Slater's first appearance and her character helped in exposing Jeff's character. Shirley's deep emotions were navigated in this episode as well with how she divert her anger to slater. That scene of her and britta was really touching. I love it when the girls have their own moments together just like from the previous episode. Also i loved how joel, chevy, and dan admired alison's talents in the commentary.

“you're a nerd”

Ah, Home Economics. I love how they let us into abed's dorm. We see here that slowly they're really starting to become a family, although yes, annie got a thing for troy and jeff got a thing for britta but still.

“man is evil”

Hah. Debate 109. The kiss for the team. I love this scene and the simmons guy. That hallway scene will never not be funny. Also this episode birthed the imma die by werewolf rap from alison sooooo. Shirley was really funny, especially when she giggled when she teases jeff and annie. Speaking of that scene, God. The way he looks at her. That was probably the moment where i could say that jeff notices annie as a woman. The way he looked into her eyes before he looks at her hair, it was beautiful. That reproductive joke bit was funny but the phone will always crack me up, Jeff's tiny voice when he said he could just get another one is hilarious. Britta and pierce had their moments here and as much as i like their tandem i like annie and peirce more. Idk. Also their laptops are very cute, very old. Lol

“we're trying to save the planet, print 500 more of these”

Aaaa, Environmental Science. That opening was really good. This episode is a highlight for chang's character and i loved his and Jeff's relationship, they really make a fun banter. What can i say the last part of this episode was just great. That montage of troy and abed singing somewhere out there while the dance is happening, it's just brilliant. I like that transitions and how we see that jeff is capable of doing something decent even if it doesn't always look like he's doing anything.

“I am totally comfortable being uncomfortable”

The Politics of Human Sexuality. Troy and abed were kinda challenging themselves and I really love that for them. How abed cares about Troy's feelings really debunks the thing that he's emotionless. I love that the girls were able to do things here again, even if it's sneaking into the dean's office. Lol. Giant thumb in a turtleneck. 😂. Alison was in the commentary again for this episode and talked about how that closet thing story was based on her real life experience. Really fun bit. Also! That line from dean when he said alcohol just makes him sleepy, really funny.

“it's December 10th!”

Aaaaaaaaa Comparative Religion! This one's really good. I love that they get to talk about religion and beliefs without like picking on it. Also have i said how their overlapping murmurs and talking over each other in the background was really great? Nope? Yeah, well this cast make a pretty good background noise, i love it. Troy's face is the best. That shirley line where she said, “why do you hate me and jesus?” will never not be funny. And that bracelet that she made was really sweet. Yes she could get manipulative and may be good at gaslighting but i love how they still redeem her and make her still likeable in the end. And Yvette's voice is just so brilliant! Dan said that this episode was the episode where they really felt like they're really are a family, especially in Jeff's point of view.

“Annie's pretty young we try not to sexualize her”

Oh i love the opening for Investigative Journalism. I love how they hug after coming from their own breaks, and that jack black was suddenly there. Lol. I liked that bit where annie thanked jeff for getting mad and jeff said that those were the upside.. Really felt like somehow, behind all his bs and his inability to process his feelings, he's still capable of having one. This episode showed how he has the in the palm of his hand, yet as the show progresses, we'll see that it won't stay like that. And I love that. They're growing. And yep in the commentary alison said she gets those messages still, and after more than a decade, she still do. Sad. I remember what Dan said, she's a forbidden fruit. :)

05/19/21 - 05/21/21

[skzsauce01]

3.14

Description: March 14 is both White Day and Pi Day. You're a sucker for puns, so obviously Felix has to make you a pie.

Warning: none

Word Count: 2,116

Pairing: fem!reader x Felix

Contrary to what his friends thought, Felix is not a complete idiot. Sure, he might be failing calculus, but he knows your handwriting like he knows the Pythagorean Theorem.

He knows it very well.

The note attached to the box of chocolates is not signed, but the sharp curves of your characters are a dead giveaway. He can't lie; seeing the store-bought box makes his heart sink. He hoped you had some semblance of romantic feelings for him, but he never saw an inkling. However, when he pulls off the white ribbon, he is ecstatic to see that his previous assumptions were wrong: the heart-shaped chocolate inside is hand decorated with lines of icing and carefully dotted with pink sprinkles, which means you are actually into him. He is smiling so much. He yells down the hallway filled with tired teenagers who couldn't care less about how he has a Valentine.

“My crush likes me back!” he shouts, earning him a few grossed-out looks.

He leaves the chocolate in his locker, but he tucks the note-- Happy Valentine's Day, Felix <3-- into his calculus textbook and thinks of less than 3's all the way to class.

However, last month's delight is now this month's dilemma. He almost forgets about White Day until Chan asks him what he is going to give you in return. His nervous laugh gets a sympathetic look and a well-intended but not helpful suggestion to buy an expensive box of chocolate. The two main problems with Chan's idea is that Felix has limited funds and anything store-bought just doesn’t show off what a great boyfriend he can potentially be.

Never mind that he doesn't even know when White Day is exactly.

Google tells him that it's on March 14. Felix has been stuck doing math for multiple hours per day, so his first thought is That's Pi Day.

Then it hits him.

He'll make you a pie. A pie so beautiful and delicious that it will make the relationship official. Instagram official.

He's jittery during the entire day. He has only a couple days to make sure his plan goes smoothly. The pie has to be perfect.

After school, Felix takes the bus to the grocery store and searches up apple pie recipes on the way there. His eyes grow wide as soon as he realizes how much work he has to do. To motivate himself, he opens the front cover of his calculus textbook and rereads your handwritten note from last month. This will all be worth it, he tells himself.

When he arrives at the grocery store, he heads straight to the produce section. Each recipe recommended different kinds of apples, so screw it; you are going to get an everything apple pie. Like an everything bagel, but apple pie.

Back at home, he has Chan in a Discord call with him as he dices up apples and cuts strips of pie dough. Chan's not doing much, just reading aloud pie making tips that Felix has seen over thirty times while looking up recipes. Felix tunes him out at what has to be the fifth mention of squeezing lemon juice on top of the chopped apples to prevent browning.

"I know already. I know what I'm doing," Felix says. "Why are you so worried anyway?"

Chan's voice is shrill and tinny as he practically screeches out, "Because you've never made a pie before, and you only have until tomorrow to get it done!"

"High risk, high reward?"

"That's not how it works!" There's a sigh from Chan's end. "Why did you choose pie? Chocolate would have been fine, too."

He considered just melting down and molding chocolate for your White Day gift. However, the homemade chocolate you gave him on Valentine's Day was so elegant and elaborate, a normal gift wouldn't suffice.

White Day also happens to be on Pi Day, and Felix knows how much you love a good math pun and a good apple pie. Hence why he is spending the night before White Day baking.

He tosses the diced fruit with the apple pie spice he picked up at the grocery store.The apple-and-spice mixture goes into the store-bought pie crust soon after, and then Felix searches up how to make a lattice.

Actually, why doesn't he put Chan to work?

"Chan, how do I make a lattice?" he asks, using the same tone he would when talking to Siri.

Chan grumbles, protesting that he's not his personal AI assistant, but Felix can hear him typing away. While Chan reads off a list of instructions and sends him video links, Felix wipes his flour-dusted fingers on his no-longer-white apron and checks his phone for messages from you. There's nothing new; the latest message in the chat between the two of you is still a picture of question 19 of his calc book with a big question mark drawn on. He sees that you haven't even seen the message yet, so you must be busy.

Felix picks up the strips of dough and follows Chan's instructions. It's easier than he expected, but the design still looks off.

Oh well. It's not too late to start over without ruining the entire design.

"Did it turn out okay?" Chan asks, breaking Felix out of his thoughts.

"It's… not bad," is the best answer he can give. He takes a picture and sends it to his friend.

Chan laughs at the crooked placements and the less-than-stellar job Felix has done at cutting the strips. "I can tell it's a lattice at least. Is it baking yet?"

"You're more anxious than I am," he remarks as he sticks the pie into the preheated oven.

"Well, someone has to be! It's your first White Day together! It has to go well."

"Which is why I'm making an apple pie for her!" Felix shouts. He realizes how loud it was and apologizes. "I didn't mean to yell at you."

"It's fine. I was being annoying, wasn't I?"

He says, "Yes," with no hesitation, and Chan laughs.

"She's your first girlfriend, and you're pretty much my little brother. I have good reason to be stressed out for you," he explains. Felix hears him typing again, and he has a feeling he's about to receive more unsolicited advice. "Anyway, did you put an egg wash on it? All these recipes are saying something about an egg wash."

"Chan."

"Right," he sighs. "I'll stop."

They switch topics to something not pie related. Felix complains about not understanding calculus, while Chan groans about how long his statistics problems take him. After a heated debate on whether calculus or statistics is harder, Felix phone buzzes with a message from you.

When he checks it, he sees a picture of your notes with a bright red circle drawn around a section labeled, "Partial Sum Decomp. When the Denominator's Power is Greater than 2."

His phone buzzes again, and a new message from you reads, "I gotchu babe."

He is so grateful that you pay attention in class. He sends back a heart emoji as Chan calls out, "You still there?"

"Sorry. Y/N texted me," he says as he reads another message from you.

Y/N <3: Wanna do homework together?

Me: Sure

Felix puts his phone on the counter and tells Chan the news. "I'm going to do homework with Y/N now. See you tomorrow?"

He can hear Chan smiling. "Have fun. Don't spoil the surprise."

"Stop projecting your worries onto me."

Before Chan can defend himself, Felix ends the call and starts a new one with you. He quickly gets a chat message that just reads, "Don't call me out like this >:(."

You answer the Discord call. "Hey."

Your voice is clear and sweet, a stark contrast to Chan's anxious ramblings. Felix smiles. The lilting in your voice is soothing, and he can tell you just woke up from a power nap based off of your soft tone.

"Hi," he says back. "Sleep well?"

There's a brief pause as you wake your brain up to formulate an answer. You reply, "I slept for three hours straight, but I also dreamt that I got a 47 on yesterday’s test."

He laughs because your dream is going to be his reality. "You'll be alright. You know what's going on."

"But the last question!" The sleepiness is replaced by fiery passion, and he hears the unmistakable sound of you slamming a palm against a table.

He lets you vent again and checks the pie in the oven. He thinks it's turning out well? The apples are bubbling a bit, and the crust looks more brown. He's never made one before; how can he tell? There's only a few more minutes left to bake it for.

With you still talking and oblivious to the world, he rushes to his room and grabs his textbook with his homework tucked inside. Just as he's back at the counter, you finish ranting.

"... I checked three times! Seungmin said he got something completely different! I think I got it wrong," you say.

"You'll be alright," he repeats. He knows he sounds like he doesn't care, but you truly will be alright. The last quiz you got a 92 with only half an hour of studying. He's also very worried about the pie because it is bubbling over now. "You studied for five hours."

"Seungmin has the highest grade!" Before he can retort that Seungmin isn't that smart, you let out a frustrated sigh. "Never mind that. Let's just do homework. I finished up to 25."

"Uh, okay." The apple pie won't stop bubbling, and he grabs a pair of oven mitts. He cracks open the oven door, and a blast of steam hits his face. "I'll catch up, and you can…" He trails off, trying to come up with an idea while taking out the pie. At the very least, it smells good.

"I can give you all the answers?" you joke.

"That will be great," Felix replies. He sets the pie down on the counter with a heavy thud. He then starts furiously typing into Google, "bubbling pie."

"What happened?" you ask, your voice laced with concern. "Did something happen?"

He's scanning blocks of text, so he carelessly answers, "I don't know if I messed up your pie or not since it's spilling over."

"My pie?"

His mouth drops open after realizing what came out of it. He now has two options: admit defeat and tell you the truth or lie to you and potentially make things worse.

He decides to go with the former. He presses a small section of the lattice with his index finger and watches it sink into the filling. Goodbye, hard work. He managed to screw up just like Chan predicted with a single sentence. He doesn't want to lie to you about something as silly as this. You know when he's lying anyway.

"It was supposed to be a secret," he quietly says. "It was your White Day present."

There's a moment of silence and then a burst of laughter from you. "Felix, you made me a pie? But you never baked before!" There's a softer laugh, and you sigh, "That's so sweet of you. Thank you."

His face feels as hot as the oven. The lattice section starts breaking off. "I wanted to do something special. And I know you like your puns."

"Pun?"

So, you forgot. With a grin, he says, "It's Pi Day tomorrow, too."

"Felix Lee, you're an amazing boyfriend," you declare. "I will gladly accept your pie."

He quickly yanks his finger out. "Really? Chan said it looked kind of bad though."

"You made it! Of course I'm going to take it. Felix, I will take whatever you make, no matter how horrible it looks."

He is so proud. And a little offended that you actually think his baking is hideous. He snaps a picture of the finished pie, which has cooled down a bit and stopped bubbling like a witch cauldron, and sends it to you.

He hears the notification sound from your end of the call and your nails clicking against the screen of your phone not long after. After a few seconds of waiting for the picture to load, he hears you laugh.

He loves your laugh so much, but maybe not in this scenario.

"Oh my goodness. Chan was not kidding when he said it looked bad!"

"It's not that bad!" he protests. "You said you would take it no matter what!"

The laughter dies down, but there's still a playfulness to your words. "I know, I know. You're the best, babe."

"Mmmnh. Anyway, question 19?” he asks cheekily.

~ ad.gray