#And these questions sound very very similar but the correct answers are miles apart on most things

[maeamian]

A related tangent that I'm going to share here to spite you all for keeping this post from dying the quiet death a post I made at midnight about an email I didn't like deserves, but when I was first considering if I was autistic and doing the whole self-evaluation thing to kick things off, one of the questions was "Are you the 'eccentric professor' of your family" which, by any objective analysis of what they meant by the question and were trying to get me to think about the answer is yes 10/10 I am indeed I know a lot of shit about specific areas and am absolutely weird.

HOWEVER, my grandfather, may his memory be a blessing, was literally a professor of chemistry and was literally known for his funky eccentric shirts, so of my family, I am absolutely NOT the eccentric professor, I'm second in the rankings probably but I can't touch the first place's qualifications for the title. I answered 'very true', but was deeply annoyed about how that constituted a lie, technically, even though it was an answer to what they were asking, which is a) the sort of thing I'm trying to talk about in the first clause of this post and b) almost a better diagnostic criteria than the actual evaluation it was from.

This may just be the autism speaking, but I fucking hate when customer surveys ask me 'how likely are you to recommend this or that to a friend' because they are lying about what they're asking. I am 0% likely to recommend almost any product to any friend and especially not by brand if at all possible, but what they want to know is 'did you have a decent experience with the thing' and that's a whole other fucking question if you want that answered fucking ask that. Except if I answer the question they're asking instead of the secret question, they yell at their employees on my behalf which I never wanted either. Terrible system, would not recommend it to a friend.

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Unavoidable bonds. (Alec Volturi x reader)

It was nothing at first, or at least in your eyes. Alec was a strange person who was very closed off and by pure luck, he was somewhat kind to you. He wasn't hostile as you had come to expect. The Cullen's had told you awful things about the Volturi, Alec included but you found it easier to hate him when he wasn't around. However now that he was, it was almost impossible. Not to mention that everyone seemed to know something you didn't. None of who were willing to tell you. Eventually you stopped asking and thought nothing of it, all the while becoming more acquainted with Alec. You got small smiles from him, each one you had earned. 

After some time, you had formed some kind of friendship with him, although you tried to ignore the pull of wanting more. You figured it was just curiosity of being in the presence of someone so mysterious and dangerous. 

For reasons unknown, you began to notice Alec had begun to approach you rather than you always coming to him. It made you speculate that maybe he wanted to spend his time with you. After that he began to break the gap he always created between you. It started with little things such as fixing your hair or picking something off your shoulder and grew into more intimate things like lingering hand holding, longer than necessary, the occasional random pattern he'd trace on your spine sometimes when standing behind you idly. 

However a line seemed to be drawn when that turned into hugs and Alec gave you some insight. "Why are they so upset?" You asked him quietly, referring to the Cullen's who were in a tense discussion with the other members of the Volturi, except Alec of course. "They don't approve of our time together." Alec said simply. "Why?" You asked. "You and I have a special bond. That scares them." He retorted. "Special? In what way?" You frowned. "I'm sure you've felt it. I've heard your heartbeat change sometimes." Alec looked down, brushing some dirt from his crossed knees. "You don't feel it as strongly as I do but it's there." "I'm going to need some more information on that, Alec. I don't quite understand what you're saying specifically." "You and I are likely to be mates despite our short time together. As much as I don't like saying it, it's similar to 'love at first sight'." Alec grimaced. "Do you not believe in that stuff?" You asked him. "I don't enjoy the thought. I find it disturbing but I don't feel that way you. Perhaps I am mistaken." "You feel it too?" You whispered in disbelief. "The pull? All the time. I feel it more than you would as a human. Believe me, if you felt it like I do, you'd be just as certain." "And the Cullen's don't like that because..." "...because it's with me." Alec finished. "I'm one of the most dangerous vampires in the world. They fear you're in danger."  "Am I?" You whispered and Alec shook his head in response. "Is this kind of bond common?" "No, it's actually exceptionally rare. I personally thought it to be nothing more than a lie but I here I stand corrected." "That explains why I feel so... attached. Sorry, I know that's weird." You admitted sheepishly. Alec smirked. "I find relief in that. It means I'm not the only one. Although it makes a very sad situation for when I must leave tomorrow."  "and you absolutely have to?" You asked Alec and he nodded briefly. "Yes. Soon enough, you'll be going home too." You tilted your head at Alec in confusion. This wasn't necessarily an uncommon experience. You had simply put it down to the many years he had despite looking so young. Alec often said things that didn't make sense, like hearing a statement from a book with no context. He left you to pick up the pieces, although you began to learn that perhaps he hadn't intended you to know the answer. Such a suspicion wouldn't be too far from the truth you reckoned. It had become consistent for vampires to not tell you the complete truth. Alec simply cracked a small smile, recognising your confusion. 

"it's just...it's stupid but I feel like it won't be the same without you now. I like having you around." You said quietly. "I'm fond of you as well." His smile didn't waver and held the same manner you had grown accustomed to. The smile that you'd give a naive child, the smile that said you didn't know anything. 

The next day he had to leave as planned and just as you had expected, it made you sad. There was a small heart ache that followed. You were eager to ignore it. Especially as Alec stood before you, his stance motionless and stoic. Although his eyes had a soft gaze upon you. "Goodbye, little human." He said simply. The name he had often gave you around the others. The term moved from condescending to endearment rather quickly. His eyes said a little more however, something he'd never say in front of others such as the Cullen's. Although his eyes said it for him. 'my little human.' His departure was as brief as his goodbye. No looking back, no distractions. Alec and his coven were gone. The Cullen's were beyond relieved at that point and that's when things became difficult. 

The goal was simple, yet complicated and the Cullen's were unified in it. Keep you and Alec apart. Don't let this continue any further. Alec tried to contact you many times, all of his letter reached you but you couldn’t respond. More specifically, the letters you wrote always disappeared before you could send them. Every newer letter gave you the indication that he hadn’t received yours so no one was sending them for you. 

You devised a plan that as soon as you were alone, you’d call the Volturi. You got receptions number and waited for your time. It eventually came when all of the Cullen’s went hunting. That was your chance. 

You waited half an hour after they had left, wanting to be sure they wouldn’t hear. You quickly dialled the number, leaning against the wall. You knew you’d have been caught as soon as the phone bill came through but you had to tell Alec you weren’t ignoring him. After a couple of rings are cheerful woman greeted you...in Italian. You didn’t know any Italian.  “Hi, uhm, sorry but do you speak english?” There was a brief silence.  “Hello, can you understand me?” The woman wasn’t as confident with her English judging by the pauses but regardless, her annunciation was perfect.”  “Yes, just to be clear, the Volturi...right?” There was another pause. “You have. I’m sorry, might i ask your name?” She asked. “Uh, yeah, my name is (Y/N). I’m a friend of Alec’s.” You could sense her alarm through the phone.  “I see, how can I help you today?”  “Well, Alec has been trying to contact me.” The receptionist made a noise as she seemed to recall. “Ah yes, I was asked to send them to you. Have they not arrived?” You couldn’t help but note the wobble of fear in her question. “Oh I did, yeah, everything is fine but I was hoping I could ask you to give him something for me.” You said hurriedly.  “I believe i can, what would you like me to give to him?”  “Could you take a note of this number and give it to him. It’s my phone number, i can’t respond to his letters they-my family won’t let me.” You said and the receptionist seemed to catch on.  “I see, very well. I’m ready when you are.” 

You gave her your number and she relayed it back to confirm it. Then she paused. “Alec isn’t on duty at the moment, if you like, i could see if I can reach him?” You perked up slightly. “Really? I mean- if it isn’t too much bother.” You could hear the smile in her voice. “Absolutely, let me put you on hold.” 

After a couple of minutes that felt like hours, you heard his voice for the first time in weeks. “Hello?”  “Hi Alec.” You breathed, unable to hold back your smile. You sank to the floor, your whole body leaning against the wall. “(Y/N)?”  “Yeah, its me.” There was a pause, “I’ve wrote to you seven times in the past five weeks alone.” He didn’t sound happy.  “I know, i got them.” You began.  “Well that’s nice, a response would have been even nicer.” Alec’s cold voice took you aback. You had forgotten how blunt he could be. “I know, I wrote back every time but...” You trailed off, unsure how to relay to him your suspicions. “...this is going to sound crazy.” You said flatly. Alec was quiet for a moment. “As long as it doesn’t sound like a lie.”  “I’m not lying to you Alec, i promise. I really did write back to you but...they disappeared before i could send them...every time.” Alec was quiet and you continued. “I think they’re taking them before i can send them.”  “The Cullen’s?” He asked. “Yeah.”  “How do you know?”  “I don’t.” You said quickly, the first couple of times i thought i had misplaced them but...seven times? And...” You trailed off.  “What?” Alec pressed. “When you left, I heard things here and there. I pretended not to but they really don’t approve of me being in contact with you. So much so that I think it could be possible that when i’m asleep or not looking, they’re taking the letters.” You paused. “I know it sounds crazy but this is the only way i could think of reaching you without something going wrong. I don’t know if it’s me or if I am genuinely onto them.”  “Did you asked them?” Alec asked finally. “They’re very quick to deny it and change the subject. I stopped asking, even tried hiding the letters but somehow they’re gone and I don’t remember moving them.” You sighed. “I know it sounds crazy-.”  “It doesn’t.”Alec interrupted.  “Really?”  “Humans can be forgetful but i don’t think they could be that forgetful. Besides, why would you call if you were trying to avoid contact.” Alec said. You exhaled. “I never even thought about that.” There was a slight chuckle.  “Alec, are you laughing at me?” You raised an eyebrow.  “Yes.” He said without hesitation.  “Don’t laugh! I thought i was going crazy and then i thought you were angry with me!”  “I was annoyed but it isn’t your fault. I didn’t realise the Cullen’s would go to such measures to keep you from me.” He explained. “I mean...other than the thousands upon thousands of miles between us?” You asked lightly.  “Very funny.”  “I try.” You grinned.  “Are you safe?” Alec asked.  “Yeah. I think i should be asking you that.” You smirked.  “You don’t need to worry about me, little human.”  “I’m sorry if I worried you though, about...you know, your letters.”  “It seemingly isn’t your fault. Besides, I can hear you now.” Alec spoke. You felt your heart flutter. “Although this is bizarre. I haven’t used a phone before.” Your jaw dropped. “You’re joking.”  “I’m not. I never had the need to besides i’m...old fashioned.”  “Or you’re just old and your age is showing.” You smirked, giggling at the moment of silence.  “You’re exceptionally lucky you’re thousands of miles away, cara mia.”  “That distance gives me confidence.” You giggled.  “I bet it does.” You could hear his smile. 

“Would it be okay if i were to call you instead of writing. I think it’ll be easier to hide. “ You asked.  “I may not be able to use this phone but I believe Heidi has a phone. I would have to ask if i could use it...once she tells me how to use it.” You giggled. “Well the receptionist took down my number.”  “She did, it’s on a tiny bit of yellow paper with your name and many numbers.”  “If you keep that, you’d be able to contact me at any time with that number. Texting or call.” You explained. “Text?” Alec sounded confused. You laughed. “So old!”  “Hey! I’ll come over there.”  “Heidi will tell you all you need to know, i’m sure. I’ll let you get back in contact with me when you can. I know you’re busy and I know i’ll need to hide my phone.” You smiled.  “I’ll fix this, sweet-face.” Alec assured you. “You won’t need to worry.” 

Turns out he was right and true to his word, barely two days later Alice froze mid-step.  “What is it, Alice?” Jasper reached out for his mate, his long fingers curling around her wrist.  “The Volturi...they’re coming here.” 

Barely a week had passed and it seemed the day had arrived. The first hint was from the wolves. The second, you could only assume was vampire instinct because no one would tell you anything. Word had been sent that they had arrived and would be before the Cullen’s in minutes. 

Alice grabbed your face in a firm grip. “Hey, you stay here. Understand? You stay inside.” You nodded quickly and the Cullen’s began to leave the house, one by one.

You moved to the window, keeping a distance but still very visible. You saw many black and grey cloaks. Far more vampires than the Cullen’s, at least triple the number. You felt fear, despite knowing Alec was among them and there to see you. The hostility was too much and it was because of you. You couldn’t hear what was said but within minutes, things seemed to go sour as multiple members grabbed each of the Cullen’s. 

It had been easy enough for the Volturi to overpower the Cullen's even without Alec's help. Aro looked over at Alec, nodding once and Alec's gaze moved from Aro towards the Cullen house. Just like that, Alec walked towards the house. A strike of terror filled you as you pulled away from the window and took off running towards the stairs. You knew better than to run. You knew you couldn't avoid this situation yet regardless of this, you attempted to anyway. You hid in the closet, closing the door quickly. 

Only seconds later you heard footsteps from downstairs. Tears welled in your eyes as your lip quivered. You weren't afraid of Alec, you were afraid of the situation and Alec came with that. You could hear him ascend the stairs as a tear ran down your cheek. He was moving slowly, humanly slow. Whether that was for you or not, you couldn't be sure. Your heart was racing as you quickly regretted hiding, forgetting just why hiding was such a reasonable idea. "(Y/N)?" You heard Alec call out from down the hall. "(Y/N)?" You shivered, not responding but you knew there was only a matter of time before you were found. You had no doubt Alec had already pin pointed where you were by heartbeat alone. "(Y/N)." Alec's voice was just beyond the door. "Open the door." He said simply. You couldn't move. "(Y/N), open the door." Alec said again, this time a little more firmly. "(Y/N), open the door!"

"I’d never have thought you to be the one to come between mates, my dear Carlisle.” Aro smiled.  “Not without reason to think someone is in danger.” Carlisle responded smoothly. “Hypocrite!” Caius snapped.  “Indeed, not a very convincing argument considering...Edward and young Bella.” Aro’s eyes landed on the couple.  “I can guarantee her safety.” Edward spoke through a clenched jaw. “Can Alec?” Jane let out a loud snarl but Aro raised a hand, motioning for her to stand down.  “Now, now, dear Jane. Edward here, is simply...misinformed.” Edward scoffed. 

You tried so desperately to hold back your tears but had failed. In a matter of moments, you could barely register Alec's arms around you, holding you to him. His hold was comforting even if a little too tight. He was quiet when he wasn't mumbling into your ear words of reassurance. It served as a reminder why you cared for him so much. "It's okay, I'll be here when you're ready." He said into your ear. 

To the Cullen’s surprise, they saw Alec come back out of the house and towards them hand in hand with you.  “They’re fine.” Alec said to Aro as you looked down at your feet. Alec pulled you a little closer to him, out of the way of the Volturi guards who released the Cullen’s. As you passed Alec, his fingertips brushed your back. He hummed with a smirk. “They look more and more beautiful as the days pass.” The compliment was sincere but most definitely made to make the Cullen’s uncomfortable. It was a success as Esme’s face twisted as she moved to wrap her arms around you. 

Weeks past and ever since the Volturi’s second visit, you had been acting differently. Being cheerful was never a bad thing in the Cullen's eyes but that wasn't the issue. You were more cheerful and that was fine, great even. However the smile only covered your mouth and barely your eyes. Looking more carefully there was something else there, you were happy but distant from them and had been since the Volturi left. You began to speak like you'd be gone one day. As though caught in a daydream that held you a thousand miles away. Perhaps there was. 

Bella could see it and she wondered if that was what Jessica, Angela, Mike, Ben, Jacob, her parents saw when they looked at her. 'Hes got his hooks in you so deep.' Bella remembered Jake's words as though they were yesterday. They never sat with her well. She never understood them. She never understood how her love for Edward was so wrong. Until she could see it for herself. Was this what they saw when looking at her? Smiling but as far as you could be...with him. Alec. Maybe, she could finally understand where they had been coming from, by looking at you. 

Although Alec had stopped contact since his visit. The Cullen's thought that would have dampened your mood. They tried to keep you apart from him and nothing good came out of it. Yet it had been weeks since his last contact and your smile hadn't even remotely faltered. The Cullen's knew better. Something big was coming. Even if you didn't know it. The Volturi were planning something. 

Alice tried to look at their decisions but they seemed more prepared than ever. If she had to guess, they were taking turns with their plan. She started with Aro only to find nothing but a confirmation from Caius. She looked to Caius and yet again and saw nothing. She checked Alec who seemed to count on Jane and Jane looked to the masters. Marcus was the most difficult of all, if he made any decisions in this plan then they were miniscule. She couldn't piece together a confirmation within a plan that had no hints. She was only left with glimpses, none of which being anything major.  

She was hit with another vision. This one of Jane who made her way to Alec. He was sitting in an armchair, seemingly in thought. Jane gently placed a hand on her brothers shoulder. "It's almost done. Soon." Alec smirked. "That is wonderful to hear, sister." She took a seat beside him on the arm rest. "Are you worried about (Y/N)?" Alec thought for a moment. "No. The plan will work. Besides, sister, I trust you with them. You'll keep them safe." Jane cracked a smile. "Of course I would. I'd do anything for you, brother. I meant for the current days. Whilst we are not there." "I believe that the Cullen's know if they even look at my mate the wrong way, there will be hell to pay." Alec said simply and just like that the vision was over. 

Another vision of many that, in the end, meant absolutely nothing and gave Alice no clue as to what was being plotted against them. Two months passed and things had become radio silent but just as quickly hell emerged. The Cullen's had returned from a hunt and you were no where to be found. Horror struck them. Had it been so simple? Was this is mastermind plan? The Volturi would take you when they weren't looking? None were satisfied with such an answer and so they each split up to search. 

Alice and Jasper were the first to disappear. No one had seen them since they departed yet the others had all crossed paths. Then it was Rosalie, Emmet not far to follow. Edward had yet to return and Bella was with her father, safe and sound. That left Carlisle and Esme who had no choice but to split up in desperation to find you. Esme moved to the front of the house, checking the trees through there. 

Carlisle looked at his house that was now completely pitch black without the lights and in the dead of night. When they had left the lights were on and he felt a sense of dread wash over him. This time, he could smell your scent much more strongly than previously which meant you were back and a strong heartbeat. "(Y/N)!?" Carlisle called out. Within moments there was a giggle and the sound of footsteps joined with the heartbeat. In seconds you ran past the doorframe in front of him.  “(Y/N)! Come back!” Carlisle called out after you. However you didn’t listen, rushing into the darkness. 

Carlisle called out to you and once again he got no reply, He made his way through each of the rooms before finally coming face to face with Alec. His expression was blank and you peeked out from behind him, your hand clutched with his tightly.  “You're too late Carlisle. They're with me now." He said simply. You smiled slightly as you nuzzled into Alec’s shoulder.  “W-What can I do to convince you-” Carlisle began but was cut off. “I think you and your coven have done enough.” Alec said stoically before directing his next sentence to you. “Sweet-face, Corin and Chelsea are looking for you.” You broke away from Alec, running off behind him and out of the room.  “No...” Carlisle shook his head in horror. “You didn’t...”  “See that’s where you have me wrong Carlisle. Chelsea hasn’t done anything to (Y/N).” Alec said quickly. Carlisle looked to see Jane walking up to take her place to her brothers left.  “You thought that I’d tie (Y/N) to me so using Chelsea. So much so you forget that they’re my mate, they’re already tied without her. If you must know, It’s Corin’s influence over them that I used. I don’t want to upset them. I want them happy and even just a little distracted.”  “Distracted for what-” Carlisle was cut off by his own scream. He crumpled to the ground, Jane filled with delight as she used her gift on Carlisle.  “This is what you get when you try to keep them from me. This is what happens. I suggest you tell your family and your friends about this taste of the consequences because i can promise you, it’s only a taste of what we’ll do if you ever try to come between us again.” Jane released Carlisle. 

In that moment you came into the room. “Am I going with you?” Alec turned with a small smirk. “Of course you are. It’s time. You’re ready, aren’t you?” You nodded cheerfully. Alec reached for your hand as Jane slipped her own hand into his free one. “Let’s go, sweet-face.”

[myblueeyedbuggers]

My Boys

Chapter 11

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader (Best Friend) Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 1531

Warnings: Language, Bullying Themes

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

Eyup my Loves! so it’s been a while since I last added to the story, I tried my best to keep my writing similar to my previous chapters, let me know what you all think! any advice or constructive criticism is welcome :) I’ll shush now, enjoy!

(This is what I Imagine Annetta to look like :) )

So, in case you were all wondering, the day didn’t get any better. I mean I kinda knew that kids my age could be massive A holes to each other, but I didn’t really expect to see it literally the flipping second I ‘walked’ through the doors. And by walked I mean dragged by the duo known as my own personal demons, or Steve and Bucky to the rest of the population.  A crowd of kids were all gathered around a row of lockers, loads of the shitheads were cheering and encouraging whatever the hell was goin’ on, and as I was about to find out it wasn’t a surprise performance by Frank Sinatra. Safe to say that was a bigger disappointment that diet coke. Anyway, what was I saying ? oh yeah, stood at the front of the crowd were a bunch of lasses that couldn’t of been older than 16, in their hands was a bunch of eggs and flour. At the bottom of their feet, on the floor, was a kid around the same age as me, her glasses were snapped in half and the bottom of to shirt was ripped, but what disgusted me the most was the fact she was begging for help as these girls smashed egg after egg into her face. You know how bulls lose their shit when they see somethin’ red? Yeah imagine that but 10x worse, the lads didn’t have time to stop me as I tore through the crowd ready to beat the ever-loving shit outta these pricks.

“‘OI! WHAT THE ACTUAL SHIT ARE YOU DOIN’”  the crowd fell silent as the girls turned to me with what one can only assume was supposed to be a ‘threatening’ glare, if I’m being completely honest it looked like they’d all simultaneously crapped em self’s. One of the girls stepped forwards, she was only a tad taller than me, her hair was a bright red, her green eyes were narrowed at me like she couldn’t believe someone was actually talking back to her. I think this is the part where I yell surprise right ? no? okay then. “Not that I care, but who the hell do you think you are? You got any idea who I am?” she sneered at me, oh my god! I’ve found someone with a bigger ego than Bucky. How in the hell is that possible. “well from first glance I’da said Santa Clause’s ex-wife but I reckon he’d have a better taste in girls now I’ve seen you up close”. And que the outraged gasps from her minions in 3,2,1…. I could hear a few people laughin’ and if I weren’t mistaken a very loud “Oh Jesus wept” from barney boy. Oooh yeah that’s when I know I’m doing my job right.

“YOU BITCH!” she screamed at me, her grubby little hands started swinging towards me in such an exaggerated way it was almost funny, I mean come on anyone coulda seen that comin’ from a mile off. And like the genius I am, I literally just side stepped her as she lunged forward,  an’ from the look on her face she weren’t expecting that, it was like the world slowed down as she surged forward unable to stop herself. Well that was till she landed head -first in the bin. I’d be a big fat liar if I said I wasn’t on the floor dying from laughter. Her legs were flailing above her head as she struggled to pull herself outta there, her cronies tried to help by grabbing her legs but that ended with one of em sporting one heck of a shiner on her right eye. A small sniffle pulled my attention away from the rather hilarious sight, glancing behind me I saw the young lass still on the ground, holdin’ her glasses which were in half with tears rolling down her cheeks. “hey, it’s okay now, they’ve gone. Here take my hand, lets get ya cleaned up eh? Reckon they’re be a bathroom round here somewhere”. The lass didn’t say anything to me, only looking at me with apprehension before taking my outstretched hand and leading us to the bathroom, the sound of the crowd growing quieter as we moved further away from it. “Thanks for saving me from Monica, she’s been bullying me since we were 11, nobody’s ever stood up for me before.” Her voice was so quiet, it shook from the effort it took her to hold back her tears, and I admired her strength, not a lotta girls woulda gone this long and not tell a teacher. “Don’t worry about it mate, I’m sorry it took so long for someone to defend ya, my names y/n by the way, don’t think we’ve met” her brown eyes met mine, as a small smile spread across her face, I couldn’t really tell what colour her hair was but I’m guessing it’s a shade a brown,  other than that she looked like a completely normal person. “My names Annetta, you’re right we ain’t met yet but I’m glad we did”.

-Later that day

It took us ‘bout 30 minutes to get all the egg off Annetta, best we could do was wash it off and cover up the stains with the cardigan I leant her, but what really put the icing on the cake was the teacher in period 1 yellin’ at us for being so late. The temptation to yeet my shoe at someone had never been as strong as it was in that moment, fortunately for the overgrown turnip of a teacher I had to settle for a mean ass side eye. And man was it a mean one.

Apart from that the day had gone by with no more incidents, well unless you count me chasing Bucky round the canteen with a carton of milk for stealin’ half my lunch, much to Annetta’s entertainment and Steve’s embarrassment. I mean the butthole deserved it, nobody and I mean NOBODY messes with my lunch. Even blue-eyed boys with a smile that could charm the devil….what am I sayin’?!

ANYWAYS it’s now what? 4th period I think, which meant English with Annetta, and maybe my favourite boys in the world. Shakespeare and Charles Dickens. Bet ya thought I were gonna say Steve and Bucky right? Well they’re currently sat behind me debating who’d win in a fight, Popeye, or Bugs Bunny. I’m surrounded by idiots. Thankfully, the teacher walked into the classroom and saved me, Mrs Davis seemed like a nice woman, she had a friendly smile and roundish face, her hair tied back into a neat bun as she took a seat. Now I’ll save you the boring bits, she started the lesson with a pop quiz which was just plain rude, about halfway through it the door burst open and there stood my best friend in the entire world. Monica. I have to say I loved her new style, the schools P.E kit really brought out the judgement in her eyes, did you detect my sarcasm yet?.

You wanna know what made her entrance even more dramatic ? the lovely aroma of gone off milk and rotted banana skins that followed her around the room,  I could help the smirk on my face as everyone around me started gagging at the smell. If you ask me I reckon it’s an improvement, I mean she certainly captures the attention of everyone in the room. Monica’s face started to match her hair, quickly racing over to Mrs Davis to give her the tardy slip before taking her seat which just had to be across from me, whoopee for me. Eventually Mrs Davis got the attention back to her, carrying on with her lesson, which moved onto matching up the famous English literature quotes with the character and book. To be fair this was actually a load of fun for me, even if Steve butchered a line from Romeo and Juliet, I don’t remember Shakespeare saying, ‘ A rose by any other name would smell as bad’. The way I banged my head on the table made Annetta think I broke my neck. Fun times people.

Of course, my reaction didn’t escape Mrs Davis’s attention, just my luck eh?. “Miss y/n, seeing as you seem to know everything, answer me this. Elizabeth Bennet is a main character in a well-known book, she’s known for the quote ‘I am a no bird and no net ensnares me. I am a free human being with an independent will’. The question is who is the author of this book is it A) Charles Dickens B) Jane Austen or C) Arthur Conan Doyle ?”. Is she being for real right now?. “Miss? With no disrespect the question itself is wrong, that wasn’t said by Elizabeth Bennet from pride and Prejudice, but said by Jane Eyre, and it was written by Charlotte Brontë”. A small smile spread across her face, which was confusing as all heck and a tad creepy to be honest, “very well-done Miss y/n, that’s the first time a student has gotten that question correct.”……

What in the name of ever-loving fluff just happened?….

So our girl is back and kicking butt! hopefully it’s not as bad as I think it is, and again I want to thank you all again for being so patient with me, good news is I’ve got the rest of the book written already! I’ll be posting them at least once a week.

Lots of love,

Rose xxx

[lils-writes-stuff]

The Lesson

Spencer Reid x reader

Best Years Season 2 part four | part three | part two | part one | season one

summary: the week that changed everything

warning: normal criminal minds things, angst, sadness, gore, fun stuff

A/N: based on season 8 episode 10; you’re all going to hate me, im sorry, i promise it gets better the is the storm before the rainbow

 The cool Georgia air hit Y/N’s face as she stepped out of her rental car. The scene in front of her seemed so foreign after years of being away. Her childhood home stared her down as she stood in its driveway. She almost didn’t want to go in. Every time she saw her mom, she came to visit her. So the last time she was truly home, was almost six years ago. 

 She walked up to the front door, duffel bag in one hand and the other raised to knock. However, that wasn’t needed, because her mom swung the door open the minute she saw her. 

 “Y/N!” She exclaimed, wrapping her in a tight, motherly hug.

 “Hi Mom,” she whispered, her cheeks squished against her mother’s shoulder. 

 “Come in, come in,” she ushered her daughter into the house. Y/N looked around the home she once called her own. The walls were a lighter color then she remembered and there was new furniture and decorations scattered throughout. 

 “So I have it all planned out, I know you’re only here for a couple of days, but tonight, you’re aunt and uncle are coming over for dinner, along with some of our friends. Them for the other two days we can do whatever you want.” Her mom was standing on the opposite side of the island from Y/N, a smile absorbing her face as she looked at her daughter. 

 Y/N just looked at her mom, a watery smile on her face. She wasn’t upset at all though, she was just so happy to see her mom again. 

 “What’s wrong, sweetie?” Her Mom walked to the other side of the counter. 

 “Nothing, Mom, I just am so glad to see you,” she whimpered. 

 Her mom gave her the same watery smile and wrapped her in another hug. 

 The two sat in the kitchen, coffee cups in hand, laughing about her mom’s stories at her restaurant she worked at. Y/N told stories of the team and how much they loved her mom from her visits up there. 

 “So have you done it yet?” Y/N’s mom asked, pointing to her left hand. 

 “No, not yet.” 

 “Why not?” 

 “I don’t know, I just haven’t found the right time I guess,” Y/N shrugged.

 “Well, I think that when you get back you should just do it.” Her mom laughed taking another sip of her coffee. “You talk about how perfect he is and me and London are waiting in anticipation for that call, so just do it. The next time you see him.” 

 “We’ll see mom, we’ll see.” 

------------

 It had been two days since Y/N had left to go home for a visit. After the night where Spencer gave her the idea, she waited about three weeks before actually executing it. Spencer kept pushing her to go, telling her the team could survive without her. So she finally went. 

 “You know, now I know how you felt when I was gone on your leave,” Spencer laughed during his confession. His phone was pressed against his ear as he passed back and forth in their living room. 

 “Oh yeah, but I learned to survive, how are you holding up?” Y/N asked through the phone. She stood in the kitchen of her childhood home, leaning on the island with her coffee sitting in front of her. “And besides it’s only been like what? Three days?” 

 “Two days twelve hours and thirty-six seconds,” Spencer corrected. 

 “Ah, forgive me. And here I thought you didn’t miss me at all, clearly, you do.” 

 Spencer chuckled at her remark, “So much.”

 “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I miss you too,” Y/N admitted. “And my mom misses you too, she says that we both need to come down here and visit together sometime.” 

 “I think that’d be fun,” Spencer said.  

 “Hey, Spence, so listen I was thinking when I get back we could go out to dinner, you know like a fancy restaurant maybe?” Her voice was hesitant at her request. Her heart pounded in anticipation as she waited for Spencer’s answer. 

 “Sure, that sounds great. Rossi was telling me about this great Italian place yesterday that we could go too,” Spencer responded. His mind raced at the thought of them going, knowing it would be the perfect opportunity to ask her the question he’s been waiting for. 

 “Perfect,” she responded. He could see her do her little jump of excitement through her voice. 

 Spencer was quiet for a second and looked up at the larger than average sized clock in the living room. He was late. Then his phone pinged, pulling it away from his ear, he saw the message from Penelope about a case.

 “Damn it,” he muttered. “Y/N, I’m late and we’ve got a case, I love you, I’ll talk to you later?” He rushed around the apartment, grabbing all his items and go-bag so he could head out the door. 

 “Yeah, sounds good bub love you too,” she responded. 

 “Bye.” 

 Spencer pocketed his phone quickly and rushed for the door of the apartment. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the black box he left out. Quickly, he picked it up and put it in his satchel. He opened the door and rushed to make it to Quantico in time. 

 “Sorry I’m late, guys, I had an appointment,” Spencer rushed, taking his bag off and sitting in his chair. 

 “Uh-huh, did this appointment have to do with a Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, who you so dearly miss,” Derek teased, making kissy faces at Spencer.

 Spencer muttered a small ‘shut up’ and pulled the file on the table closer to him. 

 “Alright let’s get started,” Hotch said as he quickly entered the room. 

 Maybe I wasn’t as late as I thought, Spencer thought to himself. 

 “Yeah, okay,” Penelope said, standing up from her chair. “Three days ago, Bruce Phillips was found dead with his blond hair dyed black. He had been put in a box and left on a busy street.”

 “A custom-made box,” Rossi noted as the picture of the box came up on the screen. 

 “Maybe our unsub was a carpenter,” Blake posed, twiddling with a pen in her hand. 

 “He stuffed him in there practically folding him in half,” Derek added. 

 Spencer looked at the pictures of the man in the box. His legs bent and broken at the knee and his head leaned back against the box. 

 “He had also been hung and restrained and that’s where the plot thickens like a bad soup,” Penelope explained as she pulled up the next two victims. “Yesterday, Justin Marks and Connie Foster, who were dating, they went missing two miles away from the first abduction site.” 

 “A couple? He’s escalating,” JJ remarked at the new information. 

 “Yes, this morning Justin’s body was found. He had been hung, he had been stuffed in a box in an alley. Officers say his brown hair had been dyed black. Connie is still missing,” Penelope continued. 

 “So he probably still has her,” JJ said. 

 “Why would he reject Justin overnight but keep the first male victim for two days?” Derek asked, not understanding the escalation. 

 “Something about him didn’t work,” Rossi responded, looking up from his file to the TV with the victims. “Look at his neck. He was hung multiple times.” 

 “The question is, what does he do with Connie?” Blake asked.

 “He could make her watch him abuse the men or have asphyxiated sex with them,” Spencer posed a theory. 

 “Well, a brunette male and a woman are crucial to this guy's fantasy,” Derek said. 

 “Well he’s kept Connie, maybe she’s the object of his desire,” JJ said. 

 “Well, our first order of business is finding her and then making sure he doesn’t do this again.” Hotch closed his file and stood up. “Wheels up in thirty.”

----------------

 Spencer sat on the coach of the jet, his head resting on the backside of his hand as his eyes followed the clouds that rolled beneath them. He thought about all the ways the dinner with Y/N could go, his fear of rejection showing itself as he thought about her saying no. But then he thought of her saying yes, a smile shining bright on her face and it allowed some of his anxiety to wash away. 

 Still, he was nervous. Penelope and JJ had tried to reassure him many times that she would say yes, even Blake thought so, but he was still scared. But isn’t everyone when they’re about to propose? 

 “Alright let’s go over victimology,” Hotch said, gaining everyone’s attention.

 Spencer peeled his eyes away from the window and back towards the group. 

 “Both male victims had their hair dyed black, and the woman is a brunette,” Hotch began the topic. 

 “The guys are similar, same ages, same builds,” Blake added. 

 “Hey were also abducted outside their homes, which were all in the same area,” Rossi continued. 

 “So they were probably being stalked,” Derek noted.

 “Was Connie with her boyfriend when she was abducted?” Spencer asked quickly. 

 “It looks that way,” JJ answered, then began to read from the file. “Her purse was found on the ground outside of his house.”

 “So this involves some kind of ruse,” Derek said.

 “It’s difficult to lure most people from the security of their own homes,” Spencer added, not sure about the ruse thing. 

 “Well, some people let their guard down,” Blake countered. 

 For some reason, Spencer started to become very defensive about this. “Yeah, but stalking victims vary their routes home. They enter and exit through different doors, they wear disguises. They don’t talk to anyone in their driveway. They hardly talk to anyone at all, They’re-they’re terrorized.”

 Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have gotten so worked up about that. But he couldn’t help but spew the stuff he had learned about victims of stalking onto everyone. He couldn’t help that instinctive feeling inside of him. 

 The team looked at him, confused and shocked gazes on their faces. They did not expect that outburst from him.

 “Okay, so maybe they were followed, Reid,” Derek said in hopes to have him back down his front he was putting up. “I mean, the bottom line is the unsub escalated. The first male was abducted alone, the second was with his girlfriend.” 

 “We, what do we know about her?” JJ asked, hoping to find some new information to help them. 

 “Connie was in her thirties, baked cakes for a living, she never had a run-in with the law,” Blake answered. 

 “Assuming he kept her, what’s the reason?” Rossi posted the new question. 

 “She’s the necessity, somehow she fits into his fantasy,” Blake replied. 

 “And so far, that need may be what’s keeping her alive,” Hotch added.

 “So what we know is that we have an unsub with a fantasy or a deep desire that requires the man to look a specific way,” Derek said, going over what they so far had. 

 “Since he rejected Justin so quickly, he’s probably looking for a replacement as we speak,” Spencer added.

--------------

 The doors of the elevator opened with a ding as Y/N reached the sixth floor of the FBI academy building. When she stepped out, a hand grasped tight on the strap of her bag, she was met with the familiar smell of coffee and paper. She had made it back earlier that day,the apartment her and Spencer shared empty when she arrived. So, not being able to deal with the quiet again, she decided to head to the office. 

  She was supposed to be in Georgia for another day, but when she heard there was a case, she really couldn’t help but come back. Her mom understood, she would have been leaving in the morning anyway. So before she went to the airport, Y/N visited her brother's grave like she had intended to do. 

 She stood about ten feet away from the headstone, fear of stepping on his body in the ground made her stomach turn. She told him all about her job and how proud she thought he’d be of her. How Derek had become an older brother to her when she moved up there. And she told him about Spencer. All about how she was planning on proposing to him and how excited she was to do it. 

 “Hey, I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow?” Penelope’s question brought Y/N out of her memory. 

 “Oh yeah, but I heard there was a case and I was leaving in the early morning tomorrow so I just decided to catch an earlier flight,” Y/N answered, pulling her lips into a line. 

 “Oh, so you get to hang out with me on this one!” Penelope excitedly took Y/N’s hand and pulled her to her office. 

 “So catch me up to speed,” Y/N said as she sat in the extra swivel chair in Penelope’s office. 

 Penelope explained everything she did to the team before they left and added in the details of what they told her so far on their victimology. With only some of the broader picture told to her, she was able to fill in the rest of the victimology herself.

 “How was Georgia?” Penelope asked after she finished typing on her computer. 

 “It was good, got to hang out with my family, go visit some old friends, wasn’t too exciting,” YN said, her eyes still trained on the tablet in her lap as she looked at the photos of the case. 

 “Cool,” Penelops’s eyes wandered the office. “ So, did you figure out how you’re going to propose to Spencer?” 

 “Ah, so that’s why you’re making small talk,” Y/N laughed, closing the tablet now. “Yes, I have. When they get back from the case, we’re going to go to dinner and I’m going to ask him.” 

 “Oh my gosh, can I be there? No, that’d be weird he’d be suspicious. But I want to see his reaction and you’re reaction and-” 

 “Garcia-” Y/N put her hand up to have her stop rambling- “You will see tons of pictures, and I am sure you are going to convince Rossi to throw some sort of party.” 

 “Good point, Penelope whispered. “I probably will have that done.” 

-----------

 “I’ve been getting lame GSWs, a few bus crash victims, but a hanging? This is fun,” The M.E., Dr. Cross, said to Rossi and Spencer after she brought them over to the body. “You think it was sexual?”

 “Not in the traditional sense,” Rossi responded, slightly weirded out from the woman's excitement. 

 “Well, look-” she pointed to the victim’s body- “there are numerous ligature marks on the neck, indicating he was hung multiple times. The ones without abrasions were probably made by something soft, like fabric.” 

 “Any idea how long it went on for?” Spencer asked, looking up from the victim's body to Cross.

 “Based on the different varying coloration of the bruising, I’d say about twelve hours,” Cross answered, then pointed to another mark on the body. “This ligature mark with the abrasion is the final one.” 

 She moved the light in her hand down the neck of the victim to point out what she found next. “There’s an inverted ‘V’ in the back. He was hung with a leather strap or belt, which is what killed him. Oh, we also found ketamine in his system.”   

 When Cross mentioned the final hanging, Spencer stood up from his hunched position and walked over to the x-rays on the light board. 

 “Well, ketamine acts quickly, so he must have used a ruse to get close to our victim,” Rossi said. 

 “Look at this,” Spencer held up the x-rays, “The bones were perfectly disjointed.”

 “Could have dislocated from the fall after hanging or when he shoved him in the box,” Rossi said, trying to give some ideas as to why they were dislocated. 

 “Well, actually, the bones were dislocated antemortem.,” Cross corrected. Her attention quickly advertised the two men wheeling in the next victim. “Oh,” she gasped excitedly. “Goody, overtime.” 

 “Can you check to see if the bones were dislocated in the same way?” Spencer asked her as she walked over to the next victim.

 She pulled the sheet back on the victim. Her hands reached for his arm to check the dislocation. “Yep, the same way.” She removed her hands from the body then crossed them. “This guy’s sicker than my last girlfriend.” 

 Rossi turned to look at Spencer. “The question is, why is he doing this?”

------------

 Y/N sat with Penelope in her office still, she wasn’t really planning on leaving though, since the rest of the team was away. She held one of Penelope’s many figurines in her hand, this one was a small unicorn that squished. While it was very childish, Y/N couldn’t help but be entranced by the object. 

 “Oh yay, we have a call,” Penelope said as she answered the phone. “Garcia and Wonder woman at your service.” 

 “Can you find anyone in the area that might sell or rent medieval torture equipment?” Hotch asked, getting straight to the point as usual. 

 “Besides a friend of mine in a knitting group?” Penelope asked jokingly.

 “Try S&M suppliers, we’re looking for a stretching rack,” Rossi elaborated. 

 “Spanking the keys as we speak,” Penelope began typing. 

 “Ew,” Y/N said in disgust with Penelope’s phrase.

 “Don’t worry they like it,” Penelope reassured her. “Okay, I have cross-checked stretching equipment with S&M equipment and I found something that stretches something…”

 “I don’t think this is something that we’re looking for,” Y/N said as she looked at the photo. Her head turned at the item in confusion. “How does that even work?” 

 “Maybe he made his own,” Spencer’s voice was heard as he came up with the new idea. 

 “That would be pretty elaborate,” Rossi remarked.

 “Okay, me and Y/N will keep looking, we’ll get back to you soon,” Penelope said, her pen hovering over the hang-up button. 

 “Hang on Garcia,” Hotch stopped her from hanging up. “Y/N when did you get back?” 

 “Couple hours ago sir, I caught an earlier flight home,” Y/N responded. She hoped Hotch wouldn’t say anything about her being back earlier, she knew Spencer would call her later about it though. 

 “Alright, hit us back when you get something.”

 “Will do,” Y/N said and then Penelope hung up. 

-

 “I thought you said she wasn’t coming back until tomorrow?” Hotch looked at Spencer. 

 “I thought so too,” Spencer replied, having no clue that she was home early. 

 “I just went to the latest abductee’s home,” Derek said as he walked up to the three standing in the conference room. “Not only did our unsub use fake blood in some kind of ruse, but the front porch security cameras were also disconnected right before the abduction.”

 “So he cased the site,” Rossi observed from the information Derek had given. 

 “Well, it’s residential streets-- a lot of people coming and going, that’s high-risk behavior,” Derek mentioned.

 “Yeah, the unsub didn’t care. He needed him and it was worth the risk,” Hotch added. 

------------

 Spencer peeled the tissue paper inside the box they found back. It’s light airy pink color contrasted with the dark horror inside. 

 “The box is wrapped this time,” Spencer said as he looked at balled up tissue paper. 

 “What is this, a gift?” Detective Marks asked. 

 Spencer pulled back some of the tissue paper from the top. He pulled back about four pieces before the face of the latest victim was revealed. The man that had been taken the day before. 

 “His natural hair color is black and still he kills him,” Hotch remarked as Spencer pulled more pieces of paper away. “And, look, no neck wounds.” 

 “Then how did he die?” Marks asked. 

 “Maybe he bled out,” Hotch suggested.

 “Or he fell from something,” Spencer argued as he examined the body more. “Look at his hands. He bored holes through the hands that ripped, and then he moved them to the wrist.” 

 “Reid, check the feet,” Hotch ordered, getting a hunch on what it could be. 

 Spencer pulled the victim’s shoe back, seeing the same type of hole. 

 “Stigmata?” Spencer asked as he had a theory forming. 

 “Hanging and then crucifixion,” Hotch explained the meaning of the word for the detective. 

 “So this has to do with religious beliefs,” Marks said. 

 “Maybe he just found a new way to torture them?” Spencer suggested. 

 “And still he’s keeping Connie. Something about her is working,” Hotch said.  

 Spencer’s eyes kept on the body. He went over every detail in his head, comparing it with the other bodies. Then he came up with a hit. 

 “Hotch look-” Spencer pointed to the jeans on the victim- “These are the exact same jeans that victim number two was wearing. Look at the trim.” 

 Spencer reached his hand into the box, pulling on the color of the shirt the victim had on. When he pulled it around enough, he could clearly read the tag. “Bonner Brothers. Is that a local store?” 

 “About five miles, half thrift store, half yuppie mart,” Marks answered.

 “I’ll have JJ and Morgan check it out after we give the profile,” Hotch said. 

------------

 “Okay, so we’re looking for a white male, at least thirty due to the sophistication of the crimes,” Y/N began to deliver the profile to Penelope. She sat in the swivel chair behind her, her head leaning on its back. She held a pink pen in her hand as she twiddled with it to keep her somewhat entertained. 

 “He’s torturing his victims. From what I’ve discussed with the team, he’s trying to perfect a delusion, which he’s failed. Three times.”

 Penelope sat, her hands laying on her thighs as she listened intently to the profile. She only usually got a small paper description to help her search parameters, so it was really cool for her to see a profiler at work.

 “With most delusions like this, the reality never lives up to the unsubs expectation.” 

 “That is the truth with anything though,” Penelope commented on Y/N’s last statement. 

 “Yeah, anyway, his fantasy involves the torture and stretching-”

 “Okay, you can skip that part, my perfect, pure, and gore free office space doesn’t need that,” Penelope said, holding up her hands to stop Y/N and her face contorting in disgust. 

 “Okay,” Y/N laughed before she continued. “Before he kills them, the unsub fixes their hair and paints their nails. The last victim he escalated to crucifying him, I’ll spare you the details of that. Crucifixion was used for serious crimes, so the unsub probably believes that his victims have wronged him.”  

 Y/N sat back in her chair, making it spin in circles as she kept thinking. “Something isn’t working though in his fantasy, because he keeps discarding the men…”

 Y/N stopped the chair and grabbed the tablet off the table beside her. She pulled up the picture of the latest victim in the box. “He kills them, then ritualistically places them in a box with tissue paper, which is weird.” 

 “Why is it weird?” Penelope asked, on the edge of her seat like Y/N was reading her some sort of novel and was reaching the climax. 

 “Well his initial behavior dehumanizes them, so it means his victims he values more when they’re dead,” Y/N answered. She looked back down at the photos again. “But if he's keeping Connie, does that mean she’s dead and he is doing ungodly things that I shouldn’t even think of, or is she still alive?” 

 Penelope looked at Y/N with a puzzled look on her face, not knowing the answer to her questions.

 “I was asking myself, Pen,” Y/N eased Penelope’s thoughts.

 “Oh good.” 

-----------------

 After the team delivered the profile, Spencer had moved back to a quiet room to work in. Well, he wasn’t really focused on his work, he was worrying about proposing to Y/N. 

 All-day, the team had noticed his behavior. Of course, they would, they’re profilers. Spencer’s odd behavior on the plane, his constant whispering under his breath, and his nervous breaths.

  Blake took extra notice of this though, she had formed some sort of motherly bond with Spencer. And Spencer was glad to have it, she was someone he could relate to intellectually also so it was nice to have her to talk to. 

 Spencer sat in a small office, writing on some paper to help with his geo-profile. He was trying to narrow it down to an area where the unsub might be keeping his victims. He was hard at work, but his mind kept going back to Y/N. 

 She was all he could think about. His nerves from proposing, going over every possible way the evening could go. He couldn’t help himself but feel nervous. 

 “There you are,” Blake said as she saw Spencer in the room. “How's the geographical profiling going? And why are you doing it here?”

 “It’s going good. I’m just having trouble concentrating out there, is all, so I came in here.” Spencer gestured vaguely with his pencil around the room. He quickly looked back down to the map and continued to work. 

 “Hmm,” Blake hummed. “So what’s with you today?”

 “Hm,” Spencer said, not understanding what she meant. 

 “Is this about the black box in your bag?” 

 Spencer opened and closed her mouth, he really hadn’t told anyone about his plan to propose. Only JJ and Penelope. JJ because she’s his best friend and Penelope because she could help him find out what Y/N would like and she was also really close to him. “She asked me the other morning, for when she gets back, to go to dinner. And I-I decided that’s when I decided I’m going to do it.”

 “Awe, Reid,” Blake gushed. “She’s going to say yes, you know.”

 “I know, it’s just, she’s the most beautiful girl in the world to me, and I don’t want to mess it up,” Spencer confessed. “But what if she says no? What if she doesn’t want to marry me?” 

 “Spencer,” Blake scorned and then took a seat in the chair across from Spencer. “Why wouldn’t she say yes?”

 “Because I’m weird,” Spencer said. “I slouch, my hairs to long, she always has to fix my perpetually crooked tie-” 

 “Your hair’s fine.”

 “Really? Thanks, my mom thinks it’s too long and so does my Aunt Ethel,” Spencer admitted. 

 “Well, you’re not about to propose to them,” Blake laughed. 

 “I just don't want to ruin something so special, over something so trivial as looks.” Spencer was showing how insecure he was and it truly broke Blake’s heart. “She’s beautiful, Alex, she’s all I could ever ask for, inside and out. Her smile is contagious, her heart is so big, and her eyes sparkle.” 

 “Spencer, I think you’re excited but afraid,” Blake told him.

 Spencer nodded, agreeing with her.  

“But I have only known you two together for four months now, and the way she looks at you, with such love and adoration. Tells me she’s going to say yes,” Blakes gave him a serious face.  

 Spencer gave a half-smile, her words comforted him.

 “So don’t second guess yourself, just do it, because she is not going to say no,” Blake gave him one last word of encouragement.  

 “We’ll see.”

--------------

 “You know what’s crazy,” Y/N blurted into the quiet space of her and Penelope. 

 “What’s crazy?” 

 “The way that these victims were tortured. The dislocation seems so...moving? Like he wants to control them.” Y/N looked at the M.E. report. The dislocation just seemed odd and yet so familiar. 

 “Movement, control, crucifixion…” Y/N was muttering these words under her breath as she continued to think why she knew this case. It seemed like something she read before. A book? No. A Reddit scary story? Possibly. An old case? 

 “Penelope there was a case, uh around 2010 I think, I can’t remember the unsubs name but it had something to do with a woman drugging her victims and...oh and she dressed them up,” Y/N listed off what she could remember from the case file she read before she joined the BAU.

 “I think I remember that one, but let me look it up just to be sure.” Penelope began to type on her computer quickly and look up the case. “Here it is, Savannah Malcolm, thirty-two at the time of her arrest. She kidnapped and drugged women to look like a line of dolls due to a frontal lobe problem from electro-shock therapy prescribed by her father, who was a serial molester.”

 “Okay, the doll thing that’s what I’m looking for.” Y/N pulled her phone out and quickly scrolled to Spencer’s number. 

-

 “The M.E. just called, not only were ligature marks on victim three’s arms, but his jaw was dislocated as well,” Rossi said to Hotch after he hung up the phone. 

 “His jaw?” Spencer asked as he and Blake approached the two men. 

 “Why would you hang someone, dislocate their joints and their jaw, and then crucify them?” Hotch’s confusion was received all around by the group. 

 Spencer was thinking, long and hard. His eyes became focused on a Newton’s Cradle that sat on a deputy's desk. The wheels in his brain turned and he was so close to connecting them but he couldn’t find the last little bit. 

 “I can see your wheels turning, don't hold back,” Rossi said, bringing Spencer out of his head.

 “Maybe he’s dislocating their body parts so that he can manipulate them himself,” Spencer said, explaining to them what he was thinking. 

 As soon as Blake was about to ask a question, Spencer’s phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his back pocket and saw Y/N’s name light up the screen. 

 “Hey, Y/N, what’s up?” Spencer said when he answered his phone. 

 “Spence put me on speaker.” 

 “Okay, one sec.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and did as she told him. “You’re on speaker.” 

 “Savannah Malcolm,” Y/N said, confusing everyone in the room. 

 “What about her?” Hotch said as he recognized the name. 

 “She was a collector, she kidnapped women so that she could be a part of her doll collection she was missing. What if this guy has something like that, a male and female set of dolls, stuffed animals, even I don’t-”

 “Marionettes.” Spencer cut her off thinking the same thing she was. 

 “Yes! I know it’s crazy but-” 

 “No, no I see it,” Spencer agreed with her but when he looked around he could see the confusion on the other’s faces. “Think about it for a second. If you add the dislocation, the holes in the hands, the strange clothing, and the odd makeup, it sounds crazy, but our unsub could be turning our victims into human marionettes.” 

 “That makes sense, and it’s the best lead,” Rossi agreed, looking to Hotch who had a posing look on his face. 

 “The Greeks translated ‘puppets’ as ‘neurospasta’, which literally means string-pulling,” Spencer said as he gave more insight on the marionette theory. 

 “Oh and throughout time they’ve been used as a method to tell kings a story so the subjects didn’t have to speak to him directly,” Y/N piped in since she had some knowledge of the matter.

 Penelope looked over at her from her chair, a confused look on her face. 

 “What? I like history,” Y/N defended herself. 

 “She’s right,” Spencer said, a small sense of pride forming in his chest. 

 “It was a way to hear the truth,” Rossi said as he was taking in the information. 

 “It seems like this unsub is doing something similar. Using his puppets to tell his story,” Hotch added. 

 “He can’t be controlling them by hand,” Blake said as she thought about how the unsub would control two humans. 

 “No, he probably built some sort of contraption,” Hotch agreed. 

 “And he’s trying to lift his victims,” Spencer added.

 “That could explain why he discarded the men,” Rossi said as he looked at the victims’ charts. “They were too heavy.” 

 “Wait, Rossi what do you see?” Y/N asked, pushing her chair back so she could grab the copies of the victims’ charts she had. 

 “Well, I’m checking the licenses of our victims, and each weighed less than the previous one,” Rossi noted as he picked up each one to compare the weights. 

 “You know, if he’s making human marionettes, that also explains why he’s stuffing his victims into boxes,” Spencer said, his eyes bouncing between the three around him. “It’s like a sick toy chest.” 

 “So he is dehumanizing them,” Y/N noted.

 “But he’s not killing them, he’s turning them into his playthings,” Hotch said. 

 The four at the station turned as they heard steps approaching. 

 “A father and son were just abducted from a parking lot at gunpoint,” Detective Marks said when he reached them. “A witness saw a man force them into a car.” 

 “Dave, you and Blake go check it out,” Hotch ordered. “Garcia, you there.” 

 “Yes, sir,” Penelope piped up to be heard over Y/N’s phone. 

 “I need you to start looking for theater owners and puppeteers in the area,” Hotch said. 

 “Will do sir,” Penelope responded. 

 “We’ll hit you back with some results,” Y/N added and went to hang up the phone. 

 “Hey, Y/N wait,” Spencer said, pulling her off of speaker and putting his phone to his ear. 

 “Yeah, Spence,” she responded, doing the same as him. 

 “We're still on for dinner when I get back?” 

 “Of course, I already made the reservation.” 

-----------------

 “Okay there are five puppeteers/marionetters in the area,” Penelope said quickly, seeing as there were two new victims.

 “Any recently released from prison?” Hotch asked. 

 Penelope quickly typed into the search engine and got no results. 

 “No,” Y/N answered when she read the screen. 

 “Yeah, they’re all working kids’ parties and at hospitals,” Penelope added. 

 “What about someone who had a traumatic incident with a brunette girl?” Spencer gave a new set of parameters. 

 “That’s kind of specific,” Penelope muttered as she began to type. While she was typing, she got a call from JJ and Derek. “Hold on let me patch in JJ and Morgan.” 

 “Hey, we’re at the clothing store,” Derek’s voice said over the phone. “And we got the names of five people who left numerous messages for Tucker this week.”

 “Give them to me and Wonder Woman,” Penelope said, hands at the ready to work her magic. 

 “Alright, we got Sam Holby, Terrence Crammer, Vincent Lang, Matt Parker, and Jill Olger,” Derek said, reading off the names he found.

 Penelope typed swiftly on her keys, doing cross-checks with all the things she’s been given so far. “And no, and I’m cross-checking those with Hotch’s list of puppeteers. And no.” 

 “So I’ve got eight more names, some written on pads in the back, others are frequent customers,” JJ’s voice was heard next. 

 “All right,” Derek said to JJ. “Penelope we need you and Y/N to trace the phone lines here, too, see if this guy Tucker called the unsub today.”

-----------

 “How’s your vegetarian pad thai?” Y/N asked as she gathered more of her own food in her chopsticks. 

 “Amazing,” Penelope took another bite of her food. The phone began to ring. Penelope used the ends of her chopsticks to answer. 

 “Garcia,” Hotch’s voice was heard through the phone. 

 “Yes, sir,” Penelope answered, swallowing her food.

 “Were there any incidents involving a father and son in the puppeteers’ histories that you found?”  

  Penelope set down her box of noodles and began to type on her computer. “Father and son. Okay, no, it’s coming up empty.”

 “What about twenty or thirty years ago?” Rossi’s voice asked. 

 At the new parameters, Penelope got a hit. “Well, there was a pretty famous puppeteer in the late fifties, named Alex Rain.”

 “He died in a robbery,” Y/N read from the article on the screen. 

 “Yeah, his son witnessed it.” 

 “What was the son’s name?” Blake asked. 

 “Adam Rain, mom died ten years ago,” Penelope answered.

 “Cross-check Adam’s name with the names of the patrons in the clothing store,” Spencer ordered. 

 Penelope began to type again and a huge list of callers appeared on the screen. “Oh, I got a big ‘ole hit. Okay, so Mr. Rain called Tucker, the owner, forty times in the last month.”

 “Damn, I don’t think I even call my mom that much,” Y/N commented, taking another bite of her food. 

 “Yeah, check this-- his father was most well-known for a pair of puppets named Mitch and Steph, the male one had dark black hair, the female was a redhead.” The picture of the two puppets was on the screen as Penelope began to describe their features. 

 “And they’re creepy,” Y/N sang as her eyes widened at the picture. 

 “Do you have an address?” Rossi asked. 

 “Last known was a building on Pine Street, that used to be his father’s theater,” Penelope said as the information on Adam Rain came up on the screen. 

 “And guess what he drives,” Y/N said. 

 “A blue van, call us back in the car,” Hotch’s voice said as he began to walk out of the room. 

 When Penelope hung up the phone, the sound of her door opening startled them. Y/N instinctively reached for her gun on her belt and Penelope jumped. Walking into the room was Erin Strauss, her normal pristine self. 

 “Agent Y/L/N, may I speak with you in my office please,” Strauss said. 

 It wasn’t a question, it was an order. Y/N nodded and stood up from her chair. “I’ll be back,” she said to Penelope who just nodded absently, not sure what was going on. 

 When Strauss entered her office, Y/N followed a few paces behind her. She was very confused about what was happening at the moment. Strauss knew they were on a case and she wouldn’t pull her away unless it was important. 

 “Have a seat.” Strauss gestured to the chairs in front of her desk. 

 Y/N slowly walked over to the seat on the left, nervous about what was happening. “Okay, I’m going to be blunt, ma’am, what’s going on?”

 “Well, I really didn’t want to do this,” Strauss began with a sigh. 

 Y/N’s mind jumped to the worse. “I’m not fired am I?” 

 “Oh no,” Strauss reassured her. She was a bitch, but Y/N was too good of an agent to fire due to budget cuts. “When I asked you to move to fugitive task force, I was hoping you would say yes so we could use that as your cover.” 

 “My cover? For what?” 

 “A couple of months ago, there was a letter left here, it told about how someone in the FBI was being watched,” Strauss began to explain. “The Director and I wrote it off as a simple ‘trying to scare’ type thing. It wasn’t until later that we realized that wasn’t the case. We received another note, with very specific detail about how someone wanted to hurt not just this one person in the FBI, but their whole team.” 

 “Do you think this has to do with Caroline?” Y/N asked, curious if that was a road Strauss had traveled down and looked into. 

 “We looked into it, it’s not.” 

 Y/N let out a sigh of relief, glad she didn’t have to deal with her again. 

 “This unsub has been stalking a member of your team, the last letter we received was about someone in the BAU.” Strauss handed the letter to Y/N in its evidence bag.

 Y/N took the letter from her hand, looking over the neat handwriting. “Well, by the handwriting I can tell this is probably a female.” 

 “Yes, I also thought that. There’s one other thing, if you notice in the letter, she mentions everyone on the team except you.” 

 Y/N looked closely at the letter, reading over everyone’s name except hers. “Do you think I am the one she’s after.” 

 Great, not again, Y/N thought to herself. 

 “Well, that was my initial thought, but then we got a break,” Strauss said. “We found out that these letters were coming from a student who attends George Town, due to a series of mysterious suicides that we believe are connected to this. George Town is a school we frequently have guest speakers at, especially from the BAU.”  

 Now Y/N was beginning to catch on. “Except me, I have never guest spoken.” 

 “Yes. We are assuming this unsub has only done research on those who have spoken at the school. This is where you come in. I would like you to go undercover as a girl’s advisor to get some insight and hopefully find out who this unsub is.” 

 Y/N looked at Strauss with wide, surprised eyes. “Oh-uh-okay, is this a ‘you can if you want to?’ or a ‘this is what you’re doing now’ thing.”

 “A little of both, but I believe you are the best hope of finding out who this is with little to no injury involved.” 

 “How long would I be undercover for?” 

 “Depends on what you find and how close you’re getting.” Strauss leaned on her desk, seeing that Y/N’s last question prompted that she was interested.

 “Okay, and will I have contact with my team?” 

 The sigh Strauss let out was not giving to Y/N’s hope. “This is the part where I believe you were going to say no. You would start tonight if you say yes, you would get some things from your home, leave your cell phone with me, I give you a new one and you will have no contact with your team unless absolutely necessary for an extended period of time.” 

 “What determines this extended period of time?” 

 “Your findings within the first month.” 

 “So at least a month.” Y/N knew she had to do this, after everything the team did to help her with Caroline, she couldn’t let this unsub get to them. But what about Spencer, or JJ, or Penelope? This was a hard decision she had to make, but she knew she’d be back. 

 “Okay, I’ll do it. But on one condition.” 

--------------  

 Adam Rain had been caught. He had been in a coma for a long time due to a car accident. He had a Peter Pan syndrome where he woke up as a young boy again. 

 Spencer was bouncing on his toes. After his talk with Blake, he had found a new sense of confidence for the evening and he couldn’t wait to pop the question. He had the ring out the whole flight home, the box in his hands and absent mindedly played with it. He opened the box, admiring the ring he looked for for so long. It was simple, a thin gold band that had three small diamonds in a line on the top of the ring. It was perfect and he was so excited to give it to her. 

 The team arrived at Quantico that evening. Tired from the long case and excited to get home.  

 “Hey guys,” Penelope greeted everyone when they walked in the door. 

 “Hey Baby girl,” Derek greeted her, giving her a hug. When he pulled away he looked behind her and then back at her. “Where’s Wonder Woman?” 

 “I have no clue, I was hoping Boy Wonder knew because Strauss called her into her office earlier and I haven’t seen her since,” Penelope explained. 

 Spencer walked up to the two when he heard his nickname. “She hasn’t talked to me since we last called you.” 

 The three were now worried and confused, no knowledge of where Y/N was.

 “I can answer that for you,” Strauss’ voice was heard as she walked into the room. Her announcement gained everyone on the team’s attention. “Agent Y/L/N has been assigned to an undercover assignment by me, starting right after the meeting we had earlier today.” 

 The team stood shocked, some with wide eyes and others with slack jaws.

 “I’m sorry, what?” JJ asked strongly.

 “The case is strictly need to know, but she wanted me to tell you that is where she was so you wouldn’t have to worry about her running off or having you think she left you.” The last part of her announcement was directed to Spencer, who Y/N knew would need to hear that until he got home. 

 “Erin,” Rossi said, anger and annoyance rising in him. 

 “Dave, the decision has been made, she was the best person for this job. You will have no contact with her unless extremely necessary for at least one month-” Strauss held up her pointer finger- “She told me to tell you that this was an extremely hard decision for her to make but she needed to do it to protect lives.” 

 With that, Strauss gave a curt nod to Hotch and started to walk to his office. Hotch followed, his walk angry as she had pulled someone from his team without telling him first. 

 “Reid,” Penelope said when she looked over to the man in shock. 

 He stood still, mouth closed and eyes pricking with tears he wouldn’t let fall. The ring in his pocket felt heavy now, like it carried all the weight of the world that just left him. 

 “Spence,” JJ reached her hand to touch his shoulder. 

 Spencer jerked at the touch and began to walk away. “I need to get home.” 

 His whole trip home, his hope was that what had just happened was just some fever dream. It was all fake from his nerves over the past couple of days and he’d get home and she’s been on the couch waiting for him.   

 But when he walked in the door, he was met with a quiet empty apartment. He let out a breath. It sounded like a scoff almost, and then he wanted to start laughing. Because this was fucking hilarious and crazy.  

 This was crazy, Y/N was gone. 

 When he closed the door and flipped the light switch, the corner of his eye caught a glimmer. His head jerked in the direction of the sparkle. 

 Sitting on the table was a white sheet of paper, folded in half and ‘Spencer’ scrawled on the front of it. Beside it sat the gold band Y/N had gotten him. 

 Slowly, Spencer dropped his bags by the door and walked over the letter. He picked up the letter, not daring to touch the gold band that sat beside it. 

 “Dear Spencer: My love, my sweet angel, my bub, I know you’re very confused right now, I am too. As Strauss told you, I was pulled away on an undercover mission. Sadly I cannot tell you what this is about due to the fact I am liable not to and technically I wasn’t even supposed to write this letter to you but you know me, I couldn’t leave without leaving something for you.” 

 Spencer laughed, a small tear he let escape running down his face. Of course, Y/N wouldn’t leave without giving him a goodbye somehow.

 “I know it isn’t fair that I am leaving you a letter, and trust me I didn’t want to leave you one. You’ve been left too many from people leaving you-- Gideon, your dad. But here’s the one thing that’s different, I am coming back. After this is all over I will be back.” 

 Spencer’s lip quivered, not letting any tears be held back anymore. 

 “Tell the team that I love them and I’m sorry that I had to leave like this. I know they were all probably shocked and some were probably angry. Hell, I would understand if you were angry. I would be.” 

 Spencer was angry. He was angry that she was chosen for this, that she had to leave. 

 “So you’re probably wondering, ‘why is there a ring here?’. Well, tonight I was going to propose to you, and it was going to be so great. Penelope and I have been discussing it all day on my speech, the delivery, the whole nine yards. But I guess that won’t happen now, but if you want to hear about it then ask her, she’ll tell you.” 

 Spencer looked down at the ring. The simple gold band sat there and was screaming at him to pick it up. Like if he wore it, Y/N would be right beside him. 

 “I don’t know if you’ll wear it, but I left it as a promise to you. So you’ll know I’ll be back to marry you soon. That this is just a bump in our story, and the rest of if we will spend together.” 

 Spencer danced the ring between his thumb and index finger. He looked at it all around, noticing their initials on the inside. He smiled at them, making his heart soar at how thoughtful she was. 

 “So, technically I am not supposed to do this, but I can’t stand the thought of not being able to talk to you for a month. I’ve thought about the safest way to do this. It’s the same way I’d talk to London in college when Caroline was...anyway. At the end of this letter is the number of the cell Strauss gave me, it’s in code but I know you’ll figure it out quickly. I want you to go to a payphone, call the number, let it ring twice, hang up, and then wait for me to call back. It’s safe and we can only do it maybe three times a week just to be cautious.” 

 Spencer made extra sure to remember each step, already excited to use it so he could talk to her. 

 “I have to go now, Spence. I love you more than anything you’ll ever know. I found a quote that is fitting for when I was going to propose, so I’ll just leave it here: Thomas Merton once wrote, ‘Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone, we find it with another.’  See you soon, Y/N.” 

 At the end of the letter was the code for the number. It was easy for Spencer to decipher, he didn’t even need to write anything down. He took a mental note of the number and was ready to use it first thing in the morning. 

 He then looked back at the ring. He had set it back down at some point and picked it back up again. It sat in the palm of his hand. 

 He was almost scared to put it on now. Then he thought about her words, it’s a promise I’ll be back. With slow, cautious movements, Spencer slipped the band on his ring finger. The ring felt at home there and he had no plans of taking it off.  

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added!!):

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[themeed]

damn allowed myself to want things for a day and all i want is a van to live in, knowledge, freedom, weight loss, and a bass guitar.

im. happy with that i think. im proud of me, no jokes. im proud of being able to want things and care about them and vibrate towards them with longing. im... pleased with that. its fulfilling in a way Not Wanting For Anything isnt, because thats... kinda hollow. empty. in a vacant, lonely, yearning and grieving and SAD way. maybe because i Couldnt Want then. i Couldnt Desire or it would be used against me or taken away. that sucks. that sucked.

and now. im free to want again. and comparatively???? i think im very much never going to aim for buddhism or that weird Not Desiring Not Attached Nirvana mindset. like good for u but been there out of trauma and its not fun theres no reason to truly Live. u just float endlessly and experience and it aches so badly!!!! it hurts to want to want and not be able to. and i guess that is different from not wanting at all but... its not different enough for me to justify ever going back to that. or going forward to that. i just got this back and screw enlightenment if it means i have to give up on my passions i dont think life is worth living without it.

and anybody who looks down on that from a spiritual tower has yet to examine their own pride and how empty they feel without it.

anybody who looks down and smiles and wishes me luck on my journey? good for them. im glad theyre living their best life, on their journey as they see fit.

and i feel the need to protect myself because ive been hurt by the pride- the arrogance of others before. a lot of my hurts and traumas stem from my mother being too prideful to recognize that she can be wrong and someone under her power could be correct over her. and it was an uncomfortable truth. so she denied it was one at all and hurt me. i know the reason could be elaborated on. she didnt want to confront her own internal logic. or trauma. or even doublethink. that doesnt excuse her hurting a child for the sake of her sense of pride, of comfort, of self-worth. a child under her power, that she claimed to be parent of. teacher of.

not owing anyone anything is not the same as not hurting anyone. i havent reconciled that yet. oppressors should be held accountable for their mistakes, and give reparations if the harm is physical at LEAST. and i think that applies to politics, yes. privately though? if i beat up a nazi, i dont want to pay for his hospital bills. my personal philosophy struggles between equating people and ideas as a worth measurement, and realizing that that line of thinking is... similar to oppressors. but. its based on something people can change. the question is, do i think "if given the opportunity" is a good enough reason to stop and question a racist that runs their mouth? and do i think pre-emptive violence is okay? if say, a nazi walks into a bar and doesnt say anything but is wearing all the red flags and bells and whistles. i dont think that justifies a beatdown. being asked to leave, sure, but the beatdown doesnt start til the first remark flies.

once the intent is given OR the action is taken, the line is drawn. doesnt matter if they Havent Had The Chance. if theyre starting shit outside of debate spaces like that, and not, say, asking questions, theyre not looking for new perspectives, and it is NOT my job to educate people. its not my job to Show People The Light. a quick fucking google search could tell them why theyre wrong. if they havent put even the most basic energy into questioning their beliefs, thats on them.

it sounds like im trying to absolve myself of blame here. largely because. i think i should go out and help educate people because theyre inherently complacent if theyre, yknow, in a position of power. aka white folk and men and rich folk and cis folk and on and on and on. these people dont live my reality. they dont live the reality of a gay black man in the south, or a genderqueer lesbian in the west, or an indigenous woman whose nation is being targeted, or a muslim woman who cannot wear her headcoverings in the face of danger of death, or an asian immigrant who cant get a job because of COVD age discrimination resurging. we will never live each others realities, but we can become aware of them.

they wont come into awareness without someone asking or telling, and then doing something to change them.

we shouldnt need to go running to people in power for them to be aware of problems in the populace, govt is supposed to help and solve issues like this. like. actively. thats the whole point, make life better for the countrys citizens. and individuals in a position of social power...

are individuals who didnt take on a responsibility to protect and serve or otherwise care for the populace of a nation. i personally think they SHOULD care, but they are not obligated to. i cant make them care about others.

and honestly, on some of them, it would be a waste of time. there are people who want to change or question things and yknow what? they seek out answers. in people or places or online usually. stats and stories.

so like. i dont think someones Potential as a person matters when theres a throwdown about to happen. it really isnt my responsibility to save people from themselves or try to change their sides against their will. if they want to chat about it they can ask questions first.

not throw insults or punches or hatred.

what people have been taught is worth analyzing and trying to correct IN SOCIETY but i cant fix every broken white boy that comes to me. PSAs, fliers, outreach, online videos, debate spaces. those are things i already have access to and can be a part of if i really want to go around changing minds. or yknow. get involved in legislation and be myself around others to change their perceptions of whats socially acceptable or normal. maybe protest, maybe call congressfolk, etc.

but not every comment has to be analyzed or a learning opportunity. im allowed to shut it down, and people can respect that or stop talking to me. this isnt my parents house where i had to justify everything that i said or did when scrutinized, and doubly justify any criticism i had of mother, or any joke i frowned at instead of smiling.

these people dont have that power over me. they arent my mother. they arent my boss, and if they are i can fuck off and get a new job if necessary. they dont have financial control over my living space and food and schooling and physical control of where i can go and with who and for how long. I CONTROL THAT. I do.

Huh. maybe thats why i want a van so bad. i mean... when this lease ends if nobody is gonna end up living with me...

i could just... live in my car and shower at truck stops. get a storage unit for my stuff. save by driving jobs. like 40 to 60 a day. tear out my cars back, insulate it, and install my mattress pad there. water on the floor, cooler next to it, wooden cutting coard, knife, single camping plateware set, and another little shelf for spices. maybe a hot plate i can hook up to the car battery? get a long enough usb and it might be doable. i could go camping and open the trunk to just... vibe.

because yeah, honestly? i dont plan on having a solid apartment for a bit. like a long bit. and i still have like 70000 miles on my car before itll want to go. and by that point, even at like 100 miles a day, thats like 2 years, less if i go cross country in that vehicle. i could save up SO MUCH for a better vehicle, or like. college. live on campus, get some credit, continue working after i figure out want i want to do.

i think thats a solid plan, even if i dont get another apartment and put everything in storage. work as i need to instead of all the time for rent, really only paying for gas, car repairs, car ins, food, and phone data/hotspot internet... that would bring my monthly expenses down to like 500 a month max instead of like 1400. id only need to make some 1000 a month doing contract stuff to save for taxes and stuff. anything extra would be just that: extra for savings and things. holy shit.

depending on how this next month goes for my friends, holy s h i t.

i. i might do this. legitimately.

i. dont think i can yet. i need proof of address to get my license im pretty sure? but hey, thatll be my 21st this year, so. once i have that i wont need a new address for a While. i dont know if ill want one, really.

i could always just ask a friend or family member if i could use theirs for mail that cant go to a PO box.

anyway. yeah. wow.

[ask-hanako-cast]

Mitsuba X Kou - Misunderstandings

Summary- Third Wonder Mitsuba still has a lot to learn after being alive for only a short time, so Kou tries to help by explaining things. However, Mitsuba also tries to learn things on his own which can lead to quite a few misunderstandings.

1825 Words, Rated T

Everything was brand new to Mitsuba. Well, not everything. He knew how to walk and run and how to point out someone’s insecurities from miles away like it was a skill infused with the very fabric of his being. He could hum, joke, and knew games like rock, paper, scissors, and tag. Still, even with the knowledge he had, it wasn’t enough to hush him up when curiosity got the better of him.

Kou didn’t know why Mitsuba seemed to like him. This Mitsuba wasn’t his, but the similarities made his heart hurt just like when Mitsuba turned to him a month ago and said, “Bold of you to assume I like you! Maybe it’s just… I feel like I should be here. Things feel better when I’m with you. It’s different from Tsukasa.” 

Tsukasa taught him lots, but Kou filled in blanks or corrected what Mitsuba assumed. Today was no different as Kou guided Mitsuba through the halls near the gym, pointing out trophies in the glass case. 

“This one is for a sport called soccer. You kick a ball around a field and try to score it in a goal. I used to play it, but I was always benched for kicking the ball in the wrong goal.” 

“I see.” Mitsuba was confused; if his looks were anything to go by, but he urged Kou to continue. 

“And this one,” Kou explained as he gestured to one of the last sports trophies, “is for tennis. Do you remember what that one is?” 

“Hitting a ball with a paddle?” 

“Close enough!” Kou grinned. He glanced around the display to decide which to quiz him on next, but when he turned back to his friend Mitsuba’s attention was already taken by something across the hall. He followed Mitsuba’s gaze as he approached the other display a bit of ways from the sports. “Oh, that’s awards for clubs! Sometimes they can win awards too, but mostly just ribbons and certificates for whatever.” 

Mitsuba hummed in thought, pressing a clawed hand to the glass as he examined the cabinets contents. Upon gazing over one in particular, Mitsuba’s eyes lit up and he jabbed a nail toward it. “I know what that one is!”

“You do?” Kou asked in surprise as he peeked over Mitsuba’s shoulder. 

Mitsuba slid a step to the side, his scarf ends twitching a silent warning to not come too close, lest he become nervous and they move on their own accord. He nodded and fiddled with his sleeves, a blush working on his lips. 

“Tsukasa showed me. They were practicing when he took me in there.” 

“You went to see the drama club practicing?” That sounded like the most normal thing Tsukasa ever showed him. 

“He was originally trying to get me to eat a centipede he found.” That makes more sense. “Then I ran by a room and saw them practicing and Tsukasa stopped. I didn’t know they had a club for that…” 

“They have a club for everything,” Kou replied, “did you like it?”

Mitsuba’s blush grew as he glanced away from the award. “Uh, I guess? I think it’s one of those things where… it’d be more fun to do yourself and not… watch it.” 

He never pegged Mitsuba to be interested in drama club, but his cuteness would be popular on stage. That is, if he were alive. 

Mitsuba let out an awkward chuckle though, in Kou’s opinion, there was nothing to be weird about. They’ve had longer silences. It had to mean Mitsuba was uncomfortable. Kou felt his heart squeeze as he looked at the supernatural. 

“Did you want to do drama club things with me?” Kou asked, tilting his head.

Mitsuba’s shoulders jumped and his scarf tails stood on end. “D-D-Do that-“ 

“I mean, I can’t say I’m any good, but with enough practice-“ 

“P-Practice?” Mitsuba screeched, face turning bright red. 

“With enough practice,” Kou repeated, “I can get better.” 

“You can’t be serious…” Mitsuba whispered, not meeting Kou’s eye as he began to mumble, “You are just trying to take advantage of me knowing that I am lost to this. You are probably going to make me do things against my will and-!”

“I wouldn’t do anything you are uncomfortable with,” Kou urged with a sigh. Was he afraid of stage fighting? Kou hadn’t even considered that when Mitsuba told him about seeing the drama club! He wasn’t going to roughhouse with Mitsuba when the mere thought of getting hit makes him cry out. “We will just try it out and see if you like it?” 

Kou briefly wondered if he could steer Mitsuba back to his camera through this interest, but everything took time. 

Mitsuba bit his lip and clicked his nails along one of the pendants on his scarf; a habit he did when he was assessing options, gambling the best deal. 

“T-... Tsukasa said they practice with everyone.” Mitsuba lowered his chin so he could stare at the floor. “I… don’t want either of us practicing with anyone else.” 

It might be a good thing Mitsuba isn’t alive to join the real drama club, Kou realised. Because that type of thinking wouldn’t be smiled upon. Either way, he nodded along obediently and gestured over to the library. “We can go find scripts now, if you want.” 

“Scripts?” Mitsuba squeaked, face going back to a cherry red as he watched Kou mime out the papers. He let out a laugh. It sounded uncomfortable, uncertain. “Do we… Do we really need them? I think that… for the first one… we can figure it out on our own?”

Kou was slowly getting the feeling he had no clue what Mitsuba was talking about. He prayed Tsukasa didn’t mess with his impressional brain too much and reached out, placing a hand on the supernatural’s shoulder. He leaned down a little, making Mitsuba’s wide pink eyes meet his. 

“Mitsuba, what do you find interesting about drama club?”

“Oh.” He didn’t seem prepared, but his fake confidence built up in seconds. “Well, I wouldn’t want to join, like I said, but I… k-kinda want to try what they were doing. Tsukasa said it’s something you do with someone who means a lot to you… and I don’t have that many people I’d want to do it with. J-Just you, I guess…” 

Kou’s brain was working overtime to find an answer as the flustered supernatural began to spew out random words. “B-Because, like you said, you have to be pretty bad at it, s-so if you say anything, I’ll tell Nene you drama club like a dog and don’t even taste like lemons!” 

“Lemons?” Had Mitsuba accidentally ran into a farmer’s market and decided he wanted to start a stand with Kou? That’s… a little hard to do, but Kou would figure something out. However, he was pretty sure Mitsuba would never want to try that. He’d probably have a heart attack the moment he got dirt under his nail beds or a fly in his hair. 

“Tsukasa said it tastes like lemons.” 

“You… want to cook with me?” 

Mitsuba looked irritated, blush dying away only slightly as he glared up at Kou. “No. I want to drama club with you. Now, stop making me repeat it. It’s embarrassing.” 

Kou took a deep breath and sighed. “I think we are having a language barrier- No, a Tsukasa-teaching-weird barrier right now. Can you show me what you mean so I can be sure it’s what I’m thinking?” 

“Y-You want me to do it?” Mitsuba shrieked. “That’s… If you are seriously that shy, I can do it. Uh, but can you… come closer?” 

Weren’t they already close enough? Kou stepped forward, until their chests were only a small space apart. Usually Mitsuba would be tense and nervous if anyone stood that close to him, despite his words saying the opposite. It wasn’t hard to tell how he truly felt with his scarf ends wriggling behind him. However, Mitsuba’s scarf wasn’t moving to protect him from his fears this time. It hung limp as Mitsuba looked up at him and brushed some of his bangs aside. 

“Tilt your head down.” Kou obeyed, tensing when he realised how close Mitsuba was. He could almost feel his breath on his lips. Kou was beginning to have a feeling that Mitsuba never saw a drama club practice to begin with, but he said nothing as Mitsuba glanced away. “Eyes closed.” 

Kou closed his eyes and was about to ask Mitsuba if his train of thought was on the right track when he felt something weird on his lips. It wasn’t a bad weird, but it wasn’t something he could explain. He dared to open his eyes only to see Mitsuba’s face way too close that he could figure out the origin of the foreign feeling on his lips. Mitsuba’s clawed hand came to rest near his neck, nails accidentally grazing the skin enough to send goosebumps down Kou’s back. 

Mitsuba slowly pulled away, pink eyes fluttering open. They were the same color as his cheeks. He looked like an angel this close. Kou bit his lip and leaned forward instead, but just as his lips brushed Mitsuba’s, he was pushed back. 

“I-I said to keep your eyes closed!” Mitsuba whispered, hitting him with his sleeve. His eyes grew glossy and Kou wasn’t sure if it was just a rouse or if he actually felt sad. Kou’s mind quickly supplied an answer to the question he’s been wondering. Mitsuba must have seen a stage kiss and wasn’t told that that wasn’t all a drama club did. Tsukasa must have glazed over so much information, it was a miracle this has been one of the only drastic 

Kou nodded his head dumbly. “Sorry, sorry!”

Mitsuba gave him a long glare, then pulled away. “It’s… fine. You weren’t, uh, as bad as you claimed to be.”

Kou scratched the back of his neck. “T-Thank you?”

“But there is one thing that was weird.” Kou felt his palms become sweaty. “You don’t taste like lemons like Tsukasa said.”

“He said I’d taste like lemons?”

“Well, no. He said drama clubs tasted like lemons,” Mitsuba stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “but you are sweeter, I think.”

“You were good too,” Kou said lamely, blushing as he glanced to the ground, “but that is actually called a ‘kiss’. I don’t think they taste like lemons unless someone has one or a candy beforehand, but you were right on the whole ‘it’s for people who are important to you’.” 

Mitsuba seemed to ponder this for a moment. “Then… Next time, just to test it, can we try lemon candies? I-I just want to see if ‘kisses’ can be lemony or if Tsukasa was fibbing again.”

Next time? Kou grinned and nodded like a bobble head, fast and sporadically. “Sure!”

“Without a script too?”

“Without a script.”

[thecoleopterawithana]

Hello! I really adore your blog and all the work you put into it! It's well appriciated. Anyways, a real question - how do you feel about Paul and Jane's relationship? Because it confuses me on so many levels. I find it very hard to believe she didn't know about his many affairs while they were together, yet the public reason for their break up is his adultery with Francie who denied that (I mean who even reported that?). 1/3

The other thing that confuses me is the fact that he was writing basically break up songs (but I didn’t register a lot of love there tbh) back in 66 and they somehow managed to last until 68, even though they totally didn’t give the impression of a good match (her ambition and his desire for housewife/bachelor life) nor did they seem as if they loved each other very much (at least publically).

The last part of the question, are you aware of a love song he wrote for her? I know some people think Here There and Everywhere but her brother apparently disagrees. Anyways, these are just my feelings and idk if I am not under a wrong impression here or something. I also don’t want it to sound like I am theoretizing here about it being a cover up for mclennon - because I am not! I think of it more as a publicity stunt for publicity…

…(even though I think it evolved into that over the course of time and it began more like Paul showing off with this pretty actress he managed to woo). What do you think? Thank you for your answer and sorry for the lenght, haha! R. 😎

Hey there! Thank you so much for the ask and a million apologies for taking so long to answer! It’s just that I had no opinion to speak of, at the time. 

I was just beginning to attempt getting a grasp on Paul– and to better comprehend my main interest of Lennon/McCartney– and hadn’t branched into the other people in his life yet. But to reach a true understanding, it is crucial to look at the full picture; and Jane was very much part of that picture, during a long and formative time!

Now, I must warn you that I’m nowhere near a Jane Asher connoisseur! This post comes with the disclaimer that I don’t feel adequately informed to answer it. But you asked, and it has been sitting in my inbox long enough, so… take my personal opinions for what they (always) are: honest (but probably flawed) attempts at understanding the emotional workings of human beings, based on the information available to me at the time. 

But because I feel like there is more information out there that I just didn’t find in the targeted research for this post, I urge more knowledgeable fans to give their contributions and/or correct me if I make some factual mistake. 

So, disclaimer given, here’s the actual answer:

I understand and empathize with your confusion regarding their relationship. I think it’s just a feeling that arises from the lack of information. After all, theirs was a relationship under intense public scrutiny from the very beginning, but whose actual inner workings were kept – through the effort of both parties – determinately private and personal. That’s always how Paul prefered it. And, effectively demonstrated by her resolute silence since, so has Jane. 

The main feeling I get from Paul and Jane is that they were both incredibly similar people, who also had somewhat separate interests. And this seems to have been both what attracted them to one another, and what eventually made them grow apart. 

Both of them were very socially adept; “good mixers”. Brian Sommerville (the Beatles’ publicity manager from 1963-1964) describes Jane as “a very sweet, extroverted girl […] bright, very conversational and full of fun”. This kind of sounds like Paul at his most gregarious. 

They were incredibly intelligent. And if Jane was cultured and knowledgeable, Paul was intensely curious, and soon became cultured and knowledgeable himself. And Paul himself openly admits that he was always attracted to “intelligent and talented people”. 

And we must acknowledge that the Asher’s lifestyle as a whole was something that captivated Paul (enough to have him literally move in with them as soon as he could). It had been instilled into him from early on, after all, this great appreciation for education and the drive to do better and rise out of his circumstances. 

[My parents] aspired to a better life. That idea that we had to get out of here, we had to do better than this. This was okay for everyone else in the street but we could do better than this. She was always moving to what she saw as a better place to bring her kids up.

[…]

My parents aspired for us, very much indeed. That is one of the great things you can find in ordinary people. My mum wanted me to be a doctor. ‘My son the doctor’ - and her being a nurse, too. No problem there. And my dad, who left school at fourteen, would have loved me to be a great scientist, a great university graduate. I always feel grateful for that. I mean, God, I certainly fulfilled their aspirations, talk about overachieving! That was all bred into me, that.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

People call Paul a “social climber” to demean him; and because the term is used to attack him, others defend him by saying his relationship with Jane had nothing to do with social climbing. But I don’t think this should be derogatory in the first place! 

Paul was ambitious; he did want to gain a higher social status. Not because he felt that made him inherently better than others; he’d just been raised to feel a sense of responsibility for being the best that he could be, and not live in poverty anymore! And what’s wrong with that, I’d like to know? 

All the Beatles wanted success, fame and status, so all of them were social climbers, in a sense. 

So what if one of the things that attracted Paul to Jane was that she was educated and cultured? It seems like a perfectly valid reason to be genuinely into someone to me.

Of course, both of them were beautiful. As Tony Barrow (the Beatles’ press officer) put it: “There was something about seeing them together that was magical. With those two gorgeous faces and all that incredible charisma, they looked like a couple of Greek gods.”  So the physical attraction was also obviously there.

And I don’t doubt that Paul was proud to have such a beautiful, talented and interesting person as a girlfriend, and might have felt like showing her off to friends. But I don’t think that lessens how enamoured they were with one another. If the whole relationship was being performed for outwards appreciation, I feel like there’d be a lot more performing going on. Instead, they never revealed more than they needed to, nor did they stop living to hide from the public eye. 

If there publicity strategies to it, they never came from Brian Epstein himself, who actually thought that the Beatles having girlfriends was a marketing mistake:

There was a considerable difference of opinion over the Jane Asher situation. Brian made a terrible fuss about it, saying that it would offend the fans. But, in effect, Paul just told him to mind his own business. Brian was probably just being over-cautious, and Paul more far-sighted, knowing that that sort of thing didn’t matter. But at the time it was a textbook rule of publicity that the artist must appear single and available.

— Brian Sommerville, in Chris Salewicz’s McCartney (1986).   

So the relationship wasn’t arranged as a publicity stunt. I feel like everything points to them just genuinely liking each other. 

(And now just an honest question to those of you who’ve been longer in the fandom: is George’s relationship with Pattie Boyd also suspected to be a publicity stunt? Because I don’t know if this has just escaped my notice, or if this claim is something that afflicts only Paul and Jane specifically. And if so, why do you think that is?)

But going back to their similarities, both Jane and Paul were incredibly independent, self-assured and work-oriented. And I think it was the clash of their strong personalities that actually caused the bumps in the relationship. 

Paul likes to be in control of himself and to some extent the environment around him. And he’d grown up in a society where it was acceptable for that to extend to his girlfriends. 

John and I lusted after Brigitte Bardot in our teen yearsand tried to make our girlfriends look like her. […] I had a girlfriend called Dot, Dorothy Rohne, who was my steady girlfriend forquite a long time in Liverpool. She and John’s girlfriend, later wife, CynthiaPowell, came over to Hamburg and I remember buying her a leather skirt andencouraging her to grow her hair long so she’d look like Brigitte.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997). 

Jane, of course, wasn’t willing to be moulded so easily.

That’s typical Paul [wanting me to stay inside the George V Hotel with the band instead of going out by myself to see Paris]. It’s just so silly of me to stay at the hotel. It’s just that he’s so insecure. For instance, he keeps saying he’s not interested in the future, but he must be because he says it so often. The trouble is, he wants the fans’ adulation and mine too. He’s so selfish, it’s his biggest fault. He can’t see that my feelings for him are real and that the fans’ are fantasy. Of course, it’s the trouble with all boys.

—Jane Asher, c/o Michael Braun, Love Me Do!: The Beatles’ Progress. (1964)

This little passage shows us Jane’s insights into the “darker” sides of Paul’s character that other’s wouldn’t often see. His insecurities: fear that Jane would betray him, anxieties about the future and his need to be liked. And this level of understanding shows either an incredible perceptiveness and emotional intelligence on Jane’s part, or it is another sign of how close they were and how well they knew each other. 

That Paul was understood like that by another person is extremely important! As he was reported saying after their breakup in 1968: 

Jane wasn’t just my woman, she was my closest friend. I’ve told her everything inside me. She knows what makes me tick down to things that happened as a kid. I went right through all the stuff about my mother dying and how I dealt with that. With Jane, I could just relax completely and be myself and that seemed to be what she wanted. With the other women, I’m a fucking millionaire rock star who just happens to be about as shallow as a puddle.

—in Alistair Taylor’s With the Beatles (2003).

Or just before that, as observed during the extensive interviews for the Beatles’ authorized biography, in 1967:

[Paul’s] life is much quieter and more ordered now. Paul is very communicative about himself, unlike the others. He talks everything over with Jane. She knows what he’s thinking.

— in Hunter Davies’ The Beatles (1968).

And I can’t stress enough how significant it is that Paul was open in such a way! It just shows how much he respected and trusted Jane. 

And I think she also trusted him. With this I don’t mean to say that she trusted him not to sleep around; I don’t believe for a minute she didn’t know about it. And because she doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of person who would endure it if she was actually betrayed and hurt by this, my personal opinion is that this was a given; something known and accepted between them. And probably not just one-way either. They spent long periods apart, after all, and I think both Paul and Jane had agreed between themselves that it was okay to have affairs. I don’t know exactly the specifics of it, or if this was revoked when they got engaged. 

But I don’t think that was the (main) reason the engagement was called off either.

It is clear they enjoyed the other’s company, from the amount of time they spent on outings and holidays alone together. But both also seem rather uncompromising in respects to their personal careers, and that probably lead to clashes. During 1965 they spend a lot of time apart when Jane pursues her acting career in Bristol Old Vic company.

My whole existence for so long centred around a bachelor life. I didn’t treat women as most people do. I’ve always had a lot around, even when I’ve had a steady girl. My life generally has always been very lax, and not normal.

I knew it was selfish. It caused a few rows. Jane left me once and went off to Bristol to act. I said OK then, leave, I’ll find someone else. It was shattering to be without her.

— Paul McCartney, in Hunter Davies’ The Beatles (1968).

Paul’s frustrations were exercised through ‘We Can Work It Out’ and ‘I’m Looking Through You’:

I wrote quite a lot of stuff up in that room actually [in Jane Asher’s family home]. I’m Looking Through You I seem to remember after an argument with Jane. There were a few of those moments. […]

As is one’s wont in relationships, you will from time to time argue or not see eye to eye on things, and a couple of the songs around this period were that kind of thing. This one I remember particularly as me being disillusioned over her commitment. She went down to the Bristol Old Vic quite a lot around this time. Suffice to say that this one was probably related to that romantic episode and I was seeing through her façade. And realising that it wasn’t quite all that it seemed. I would write it out in a song and then I’ve got rid of the emotion. I don’t hold grudges so that gets rid of that little bit of emotional baggage. I remember specifically this one being about that, getting rid of some emotional baggage. ‘I’m looking through you, and you’re not there!’

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

You’re thinking of me the same old wayYou were above me, but not todayThe only difference is you’re down thereI’m looking through you and you’re nowhere

Why, tell me why, did you not treat me right? Love has a nasty habit of disappearing overnight

I’m looking through you, where did you go I thought I knew you, what did I know You don’t look different, but you have changedI’m looking through you, you’re not the same

Paul was especially shaken by this episode when it became apparent that she might actually leave him for her other boyfriend:

I remember more one time when she was working at the Bristol Old Vic and she’d got a boyfriend in Bristol and was going to leave me for him. That was wildly traumatic, that was ‘Uhhhh!’ Total rejection!

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

So to lead a better life, Paul needs his love to be here, but Jane was pursuing her own dreams:

Jane loved acting and Jane loved Paul, but she wasn’t about to give one up for the other. […] Of all the plum roles that had come her way, the Subservient Beatles Woman was the only one Jane Asher refused to play. […] She had too much going for her to take a backseat to anyone, much less her mate. From the beginning, Paul had a hard time keeping up with her. Jane’s diary, which she lived by, was a clutter of fascinating appointments and social commitments. “I was amazed by the diary,” Paul admitted. “I’ve never known people who stuffed so much into a day.” There were auditions, meetings with television and movie producers, vocal lessons, acting classes, fittings, gallery debuts, screenings, recitals, opening nights. […] “Paul was clearly in awe of her,” says Peter Brown. 

— in Bob Spitz’s The Beatles: The Biography (2005).

And though they both loved culture and the swinging London scene, Jane wasn’t into all the drugs or the rock-n’-roll world. So when they moved together to Cavendish in March 1966, their slightly different social circles often didn’t mix well.

At Wimpole Street, he and Jane had kept their social lives mainly separate. At Cavendish, she naturally wanted to entertain her theatre friends, and the mix of luvvies and rockers could sometimes be awkward. One evening when she had some fellow actors to dinner, Paul arrived home with John, who–whether the result of drink or pot or just plain Lennonness–was at his most maliciously provocative. When one of the actresses at the table nervously requested an ashtray, he knelt beside her and facetiously offered one of his nostrils for the purpose. Jane, with her usual sangfroid, simply extended a foot and pushed him over.

— in Phillip Norman’s Paul McCartney: The Biography (2016).

On this same month, during a skiing holiday in Switzerland, Paul writes ‘For No One’.

It was very nice and I remember writing 'For No One’ there.I suspect it was about another argument. I don’t have easy relationships withwomen, I never have. I talk too much truth.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

It’s interesting to me that Paul’s problem in his relationship with women is “talking too much truth”. But by the lyrics in the song, we see that once again Paul is struggling with Jane’s self-reliance and her perceived lack-of-interest for him (which I also find endlessly ironic):

She wakes up, she makes upShe takes her time and doesn’t feel she has to hurryShe no longer needs you

You want her, you need herAnd yet you don’t believe her when she says her love is deadYou think she needs you

You stay home, she goes outShe says that long ago she knew someone but now he’s goneShe doesn’t need him

Your day breaks, your mind achesThere will be times when all the things she said will fill your headYou won’t forget her

And in her eyes you see nothingNo sign of love behind the tearsCried for no oneA love that should have lasted years!

The next big separation comes in 1967, when Jane goes on a tour of the US for the first five months of the year. This was, of course, a time of tectonic changes within the Beatles and in Paul’s life. 

When I came back after five months, Paul had changed so much. He was on LSD which I hadn’t shared. I was jealous of the spiritual experiences he’d had with John.

—Jane Asher, in Hunter Davies’ The Beatles (1968).

It must have been extremely disorientating to come back to the tripping, summer-of-love, looking-for-the-Meaning Paul. But to their credit, they did try to get to know one another again; reconnect:

On Jane’s return from America, she and Paul made a last-ditch stand to consolidate their relationship. Jane, unusually, even accompanied Paul to a recording session on 20 July 1967 […] Two days after the session, Jane accompanied Paul to Greece with the other Beatles. In August Jane was with him on the trip to Bangor to be initiated by the Maharishi, and during the difficult days following Brian’s death she was clearly a great source of strength and comfort to him; someone familiar and safe he could trust and confide in; someone with all the attributes of a wife. They spent the first three weeks of December alone together in Paul’s remote Scottish farm­house and four days later, on Christmas Day, 1967, they announced to Paul’s family - perhaps slightly to their own surprise - their engagement.

— in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

Jane and Paul make a very loving and lovely couple. Everyone agrees on this. […] Paul and Jane have more time together, on their own, than probably the other Beatle couples. They do get away together, to places like their Scottish home, thanks to Jane. They were the first to want to move to the country for good, to a quieter smaller house, which John and George now also want to do.

—in Hunter Davies’ The Beatles (1968).

When they got engaged, on Christmas Day 1967, all these problems were in the past. Maharishi, for a long time, was the only little point of difference, although it was all amicable. Jane didn’t fall for him when the others did, although she understood the attraction. She would obviously have preferred to try to reach a spiritual state on their own. Paul wasn’t as committed as George and John when he went with Jane to India in 1968, but he felt there was something there that would help him, that might answer his questions. So Jane agreed to go with him. 

— in Hunter Davies’ The Beatles (1968).

Suffice it to say, Paul didn’t get his answers. In fact, the reality he knew was about to crumble.

The summer of 1968 was a horrible storm of drugs, anxiety and heartbreak, where he had to take care of this budding enterprise while managing a band and losing both his partners. And I think Alistair Taylor’s descriptions of a completely wrecked Paul reflect all of that. 

It’s curious then how Paul recalls his reaction to the calling off of the engagement later:

I don’t remember [his and Jane’s eventual] breakup as being traumatic, really. I remember more one time when she was working at the Bristol Old Vic and she’d got a boyfriend in Bristol and was going to leave me for him. That was wildly traumatic, that was ‘Uhhhh!’ Total rejection! We got back together again but I had already gone through that when we eventually split up. It seemed it had to happen. It felt right.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

They were eventually both at peace with the decision. Paul has expressed that he had an intuitive unconscious reticence over actually marrying Jane. And Jane herself had felt that they’d grown too much and apart as people. She surmises: 

“And I had four [wonderful years].

“No, it wasn’t love at first sight on my side. It was several months before I felt at all certain. And of course, I was young. Only seventeen. Inevitably, one changes. After all, Paul himself was only twenty when we met.

“I knew in my bones that the break must inevitably come a long time before it actually happened. Although we had this emotional thing for each other, we found it difficult to be really happy together.”

I remembered, then, the character in another play who had cried: “I am not offering you happiness, but love.” And I remembered, too, how that great J. L. Garvin had once told me when I was Jane’s age: “Everything in life makes either for happiness or experience.”

“And sometimes the experience is more important,” I suggested now.

She nodded as she got up to go.

“I long to improve as an actress and I hope what’s happened to me will make me understand more fully the characters I am asked to play. Anyway, I promise you, I wouldn’t not have had it happen. I mean, I am very, very grateful for those four years. And I am not going to look back in bitterness or anger, but only forward.

“People are such bores who make a drama out of their lost loves. In every case someone has to fall out of love first.”

—Jane Asher, interview w/ Godfrey Winn for The Australian Women’s Weekly: Girl with a broken love affair. (April 23rd, 1969)

So here’s my overview of Paul and Jane. 

I feel like their relationship was very genuine and organic, so much so that they eventually grew in different directions. But they were nevertheless very important and formative figures in each other’s lives. 

And it was personally very interesting for me to see this side of Paul too, the one whose needs are left unmet by a driven, work-oriented, independent partner, and how he reacted to that. 

Jane herself is an awesome woman in her own right, and I loved this chance to get to know her a little better.

As for love songs written from Paul to Jane, I would ask for the help of more well-informed fans! I’m sure many of the feelings expressed in his love songs were also inspired in part by his experiences with Jane. Is there one particular song out there which has been stated to be about her?

[companionjones]

Friends Made Along The Way

Requested by: @damedevon

Request: This is the second request in case you don't want to do the first one :)  NCIS universe: Reader, genius level IQ that is a talented artist (painting, sculpting, all the things) is brought in to consult on a case. (S)he meets Spencer and they hit it off, talking about cultured literature and time period specific art and history.

Fandoms: NCIS, Criminal Minds

Pairings: Spencer Reid x NCISAgent!Reader, Platonic!BAU Team x NCISAgent!Reader, Platonic!NCIS Team x NCISAgent!Reader, Specifically Platonic!Gibbs x NCISAgent!Reader

Warnings: Extreme descriptions of blood and gore

Author’s Note: This takes place around season 5 for both NCIS and Criminal Minds. Idk if that lines up chronologically, sorry if it doesn’t.

*******

    “We got a case,” informed Gibbs as he headed to his desk for his gun and badge.

    Yourself and the rest of your team moved to gather your individual things and meet in the elevator.

    Gibbs gave more details about the case. “A former marine was found dead outside a Cheesy Cheese.”

    Timothy McGee asked, awkwardly, “Uh, Boss? Don’t you mean Chuck E. Cheese?”

    “Does it look like I know the difference, McGee?” Gibbs returned.

    The younger agent was clearly uncomfortable. “No, Boss. It’s just...I didn’t--”

    Ziva’s voice was as sly as ever. “It’s best to stop now, McGee.”

    As you headed out of the bull-pen, you opened your mouth to say something.

    DiNozzo cut you off instead. “L/n, I swear to God, if you make one more Shakespeare reference today, Ziva’s driving to the crime scene.”

    “Tony,” you rolled your eyes, “How could I possibly make a reference to the Bard from this?”

    All DiNozzo had to do was give you a look.

    “Fine, I’ll shut up,” you sighed, exiting your team’s area.

    Abruptly, Gibbs turned and stopped you. “Not you.”

    “What?” You were shocked.

    Gibbs gruffly explained, “Fornell called. Apparently, a friend of his wants you on his case. It’s ten miles out.”

    Forgetting your usual respect for your superior, you groaned.

    Again, all it took was a look.

    “Yes, sir,” you childishly agreed.

***

    “Excuse me, Agent Aaron Hotchner?” I’m Agent Y/n L/n, from NCIS.” You stuck your hand out when the man confirmed his name.

    He took your offer, and shook your hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry it had to be under these circumstances.” The senior FBI agent spent the following few minutes explaining the details of the case to you.

    So far, three murders had been committed. The odd thing about the murders was that the killer was recreating paintings by an artist from the 1800s by posing the victims how the muses were posed in certain paintings. You had read about the strange murders in the paper.

    “Gustave Courbet,” you named the original artist. “I realized that after the first murder. I didn’t think it was going to take you guys this long to figure it out.”

    Hotchner knew not to take your words personally. “That’s why we called you in. We need an expert on Courbet on this case.” He noticed an agent from his team walking up to where the two of you were in the living room of the apartment/crime scene. “This is Dr. Reid. He’s the one on our team who recognized the pattern in the first place.”

    The younger man greeted you by giving you his first name. “Spencer.” He then admitted, “I don't shake hands.”

    “Oh, okay. Call me Y/n,” you politely offered.

    Another agent was making his way to the three of you. Two female agents and an older male agent were trailing behind him.

    The darker-skinned agent smiled. “We’re very proud of our Dr. Reid, here. Kid has an IQ of 187.”

    “You’ve got me beat, then,” you admitted, turning back to Dr. Reid. “My score is 186.”

    Everyone seemed pretty blown away by that. You could tell it was rare that the team came across anyone that was as smart as their resident genius.

    You never liked the term ‘genius,’ especially when it was used on you. On the contrary, you mostly kept your skills under the radar. Except for a few literary references here and there, you rarely talked about your smarts. Actually, you never really got the chance to.

    The rest of the agents on the team introduced themselves, and Hotch explained, “We’re the BAU at the FBI. It stands for--”

    “Behavioral Analysis Unit. I know. But here’s an acronym you guys probably don’t know-NCIS. It’s where I work.”

    Hotch obviously knew what it meant. He was the one who called you in. You got a marine vibe from Rossi, so he probably knew, too. They weren’t the kind of men to just blurt out the answer, however. The rest of the team seemed to be having trouble with the acronym.

    Spencer was different. “Naval Criminal Investigative Service,” he said almost immediately.

    “Good! It’s rare someone just knows that. I’m assuming you don’t have any prior connections...Maybe you do know what you’re talking about.”

    You noticed a prolonged look Agent Morgan gave Spencer. Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, and moved his gaze elsewhere. You didn’t understand the exchange.

    Hotchner began, “Okay,. Now that introductions are out of the way, we were hoping you could take a look at this crime scene.”

    Two minutes later, you were two inches away from a body. The poor woman was a hunched over in a chair. She was a brunette, and looked to weigh about 200 pounds. Like the other victims, she was dressed in middle class mid-1800s clothing. The chair she was in was next to a spindle. She had some raw wool wrapped around a distaff sitting on her lap. You swallowed hard when the thought crossed your mind that it almost seemed like she was sleeping.

    Agent Jareau (she preferred the nickname JJ) informed you, “She was found early this morning by a mother and daughter returning from a trip. This apartment is theirs. They don’t own a spinning wheel.”

    Rossi continued, “We got a positive I.D., her name is Suzanne Welling. No relation to the family that live here.”

    “I hope the daughter is young. There’s more of a chance of her forgetting this tragedy when she gets older,” you quickly added that last part when you realized how harsh you sounded. You never broke your studying of the remains.

    JJ confirmed, “The girl’s 4 years old.” It was a tone you could tell clearly was a mother’s. You wondered how many kids she had. You also hoped your words weren’t too harsh.

    “The painting this is based on is The Sleeping Spinner, painted in 1853. It looks like he’s going in chronological order.” You dragged your index finger over your bottom lip. It was a thinking habit you had.

    Emily Prentiss, the other female agent on the team, inquired, “Why do you think he’s male?”

    “The first painting--er...murder.” You straightened up onto your feet. “The Wounded Man, originally painted in 1844. It’s a self-portrait. A lot of Courbet’s early works were. The killer sees himself as Courbet. The first muse--victim probably looks like the murderer.”

    A new voice entered the room. “Unsub.” It was Spencer. “Unknown suspect. We call our suspects unsubs. You can, too...if you want to.”

    “...Unsub.” You smiled slightly while you tested out the name for Spencer.

    He expressed the same sentiment to you.

    The rest of the day was spent working the case. It was explained to you that the team would usually split up with some of them heading to the local police department when first arriving for an assignment. It was just how things worked out in that particular instance that the whole team went straight to the crime scene.

    Soon enough, you found out Spencer was the agent who spent most of his time in the local police stations. You were the agent who spent most of your time with Spencer.

    “What’re you up to, Agent Reid?” you asked with a somewhat playful tone.

    He had been pinning a map to the board you and the BAU team had borrowed for the case. He started marking it up. “I’m making a geological profile of the area. We usually see if the locations of the crime scenes give us any clues to where the unsub is living or where he might kill next.”

    “At NCIS, we do the same thing to see if we can find out where the killer lives--”

    Spencer distractedly corrected you, “Unsub.”

    “Unsub. But we don’t really have cases where we have to predict where the unsub may strike next.”

    The young FBI agent reasoned, “It’s crazy, but you get used to it. Soon, it’s just another part of life.”

    “I don’t think I would want to get used to this kind of stuff.” You couldn’t help your mind from drifting to the deceivingly peaceful form you had observed earlier that day.

    For a moment, Spencer stopped his efficient actions. He was thinking. “... ‘Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me. The Carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality.’ Emily Dickinson.”

    “She looked at death like it was such a peaceful thing. Like it was a new beginning.” Your tone was more bittersweet than you had ever heard it sound.

    He turned toward you. Spencer headed for a seat next to yours at the conference room table. “Maybe that’s what it is: just another part of life.”

   “We investigate death everyday...but we never talk about what comes after.”

    The young man smirked slightly, “They obsessed over it enough in the 1800s. Is there even a need to think too much about it anymore?”

    Surprisingly, that got you to laugh. You and Spencer Reid sat there in the conference room, laughing about your elders’ morbid curiosities.

***

    “Happy Monday,” you greeted as you descended the stairs into the basement.

    Gibbs looked up from his fifth boat-in-progress. “Happy Monday, L/n.”

    Similar to everyone else on the team, Gibbs had a unique relationship with you. You hadn’t known Gibbs as long as he’d known Ducky, but the two of you were very close. However, you didn’t think you’d ever be as important to him as Abby.

    Anyway, you and Gibbs had a standing arrangement for dinner every Monday night. It was never anything fancy, nothing with Gibbs ever was. Dinner with the senior agent usually consisted of two orders of Chinese food in his basement.

    “Making slow progress with this one, aren’t you?” you questioned, referring to Gibbs’ latest woodwork.

    He responded, “Doesn’t matter how long it takes, as long as it’s done right.”

    “Yes, sir,” you chuckled. You pulled out the meals while Gibbs set up a makeshift table and chairs.

    About ten minutes later, your boss interrupted what you though was your usual, comfortable silence. “You seem preoccupied.”

    “I am,” you admitted, “It’s the FBI case.”

    He looked you over, then went back to eating. Then, Gibbs easily stated, “It’s not just that.”

    You stared at him hard, trying to come up with something else to say besides the truth. You sighed and repeated him, “It’s not just that, but this isn’t your area of expertise.”

    Once more, all it took was a look.

    “It’s a guy, Gibbs. A cute, kind, and smart guy.” You met his gaze because you expected that that would be enough for him to back off.

    Jarringly (for you, anyway), Gibbs didn’t give up. He continued to stare is Gibbs stare right into your soul.

    “Agent Spencer Reid,” you gave in, revealing the boy’s name. “Has a higher IQ than me...Eh, he has 187. I have--”

    He gave your score for you, “186.”

    “So, it doesn’t really count.”

    Gibbs chuckled, then agreed, “No, it doesn’t.”

    After about an hour, dinner was done. You headed home, but not before mulling over the fact that you had just talked romance with Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Maybe you were closer with him than you had previously thought.

***

    The next morning, you were woken up at 5 A.M. with a phone call from Hotch. At first, you were concerned as to why you weren't notified earlier. You launched out of bed and began to quickly get dressed. Hotch grew hesitant. He didn't seem to want you to go to the crime scene. You didn’t know why. You insisted that you were a federal agent just as he was, and that you had every right to be at any crime scene that had to do with a case you were legally working.

    On your way to where the BAU was, you continued to think about the team. They apparently took you in as one of their own after just one day of working with you. It reminded you of your connections with your almost-family at NCIS. You didn’t mind it, and you were actually warming up to the idea. The only thing you had a problem with was when it interfered with your job. Hotch did that when he tried to keep you from a crime scene. You knew he was trying to protect you, but you were wondering from what.

    The newest crime scene was an abandoned warehouse. Spencer was standing outside, on the phone with someone as you pulled up. When you got out of your car, he handed the phone to Agent Morgan.

    Morgan smiled to himself as he walked away. “Baby, how you always bring such beautiful light in this world is beyond me...Love you, sweetheart.”

    “Who was that on the phone?” you inquired.

    Spencer answered, “Penelope Garcia...Our technical analyst.”

    “Co-workers are allowed to date each other on your side?”

    That last question made him smile. “Nope. And they’re not dating.”

    “...Huh.”

    “Huh indeed.”

    Sighing, you then cracked your neck. “Alright. In we go.” You brushed around Spencer and headed toward the entrance of the warehouse.

    You were surprised when Spencer took hold of your shoulders and stepped back in front of you.

    He seemed as concerned as Hotchner, if not more. “Listen, Y/n. Remember that conversation we had yesterday? You said that you didn’t think you ever wanted to get used to the death that we see. Y/n, there’s a lot of death in there.”

    “No one in this hemisphere can tell you what the unsub is aiming for in there besides me. If we catch this guy, it’ll save everyone from more death than what could be in there.”

    Still, Spencer didn’t let you go.

    “...Please, Spencer.”

    The boy gave you a look that reminded you of a puppy. He stepped aside.

    A few steps later, you were inside. Turns out, a few steps were all you could take. Fifteen people. Three of them were children. It was a long time before you were able to breathe again.

    When you did take a breath, JJ and Emily were at your side. Not that you were complaining. You would need someone to steady you if your knees buckled.

    Hotch came up to the three of you. “This is why I didn’t want you coming here, L/n.”

    “...I’ve never seen a massacre like this...” You still weren’t sure you could remain on your feet.

    Rossi approached. “Do you need to leave for a second?”

    “The Preparation of a Dead Girl...and/or Wife...all the public knows is that it was released sometime in the 1850s,” you slowly breathed out the words after you swallowed. With your knees shaking, you made your way closer to the scene. “He put rods in them to pose them correctly compared to the painting...They were still alive when he put the rods in place.”

    It was hard for you to understand how, but you made it through the rest of the day. Everyone in the BAU could obviously tell you continued to be affected by the most recent crime scene, and you hated that they were all walking on eggshells around you. The bottom line was that you didn’t let it affect your job, and you didn’t see why everyone was treating you differently. Okay, maybe you did see why. It was the same reason why Gibbs let Abby ramble on about the little things sometimes. Family. You were already part of the BAU’s family.

***

    Later that night, you were back home. Your apartment was small, but you didn’t mind. You still found a way to fit all the books and art supplies you wanted in your home.

    There was a knock at your door.

    “Hiya, Spencer,” you softly greeted. You left your door open for him to enter through. You returned to your seat at your pottery wheel. “I hope you don’t mind if I keep working on this while you’re here. It centers me.” You got quieter. “...It calms me down.”

    For a moment, Spencer was silent. “How long have you been in the field?” His question was gentle, unaccusing.

    “Do people get annoyed when you profile them in social situations, Dr. Reid?” Your tone didn’t hold any malice, either.

    He smirked, “All the time.”

    It was your turn to be silent as you resolved to answer Spencer’s question. “Gibbs and I first met when he and his team were working a case at the University I taught at. He came to see me for some time after that. Most of the time it was to use my intellect on other cases he was working...I’m quite proud to say I was one of the few friends he had outside of the agency. Well, until I joined the agency.” You paused as you chuckled. “He recruited me back in ‘03, and I’ve been with the team ever since.”

    Spencer waited. He could tell you weren’t finished.

    “Only...,” you sighed, accepting that you couldn’t hide the following fact from him. “I’ve only been allowed at crime scenes for about a year or so. Gibbs is fiercely protective of me, and it took me years to get him to let me into the field...Man, I hope he doesn’t find out I acted today. He would never let me see a dead body again...not even in Ducky’s autopsy.” You said that last part more to yourself.

    He smiled at you from his chair. “I think you acted perfectly fine today, Y/n.”

    “Betcha Agent Rossi didn’t think so,” you chuckled, “He was read to dodge my vomit when I showed up today.” You stopped talking for a moment when your mind jumped back to the bloody warehouse. “...Your team doesn’t think I’m fit to be in the field.”

    Spencer almost matter-of-factly stated, “They don’t think that.”

    “Well, what do they think?” The vase you had been working on was thrown off balance on the pottery wheel. You set to work fixing it.

    The male agent never moved his eyes from you. “They care about you, Y/n...I do, too.”

    You were thankful you had your craft to focus on, it helped you hide your smile. “I know that, Spencer...I know that.”

    Spencer stayed for the next few hours. Nothing physical happened. You eventually put away your pottery and broke out some wine. The two of you spent the night talking about arts, literature, and maybe other things that the two of you needed to discuss.

***

    The following day, you made it to the local police station by 7 A.M. You first stop was the conference room where Spencer was already studying the map as closely as the last time the two of you had been in that room.

    “Did you even sleep last night?” You inquired as you set your things down in one of the chairs.

    As expected, Spencer barely glanced in your direction as you found a seat for yourself. He was already too immersed in his work. “I actually kind of slept in today...I have you and Walt Whitman to thank for that.” Surprising you, Spencer glanced over his shoulder and caught your gaze.

    His inside joke got you to throw your head back in laughter. “Alright, Spencer. Here’s what I want you to do.” You hurled yourself out of your chair, and moved to stand next to the young agent. “I want you to explain this map to me. You don’t even have a key for it.”

    Spencer shrugged, “It’s easy enough. These are parks, these are obviously areas of water, and this right here is a Chuck E. Cheese, so these marks mean places entertainment--”

    “What?”

    He pointed to a part of the map that was less than five blocks away from the second crime scene. “This mark right here is a Chuck E. Cheese. Which means--”

    “No Spencer, you don’t understand. NCIS had a body at a Chuck E. Cheese. There can’t be too many of these in this area. This is very close to the second crime scene, but not close enough that it would make sense for the unsub to still be on foot. What if the unsub was walking home and the former marine saw the weapon? The unsub has used the same gun in every killing. He would have to take it home with him. The unsub could live in this area!” You drew a circle with your finger of a quarter mile radius around the second crime scene.

    Spencer didn’t agree. “I don’t know, Y/n. All of this seems highly circumstantial. Couldn’t this all be a coincidence?”

    “There are no such thing as coincidences,” you shook your head.

    It was enough to get Gibbs and the rest of the team to work with the BAU on the case. Within the hour, most of your NCIS family were present in the local police department.

    Hotch greeted Gibbs with a handshake. “Pleasure to meet you, Agent Gibbs. I wish it could be under better circumstances.”

    Gibbs nodded, “The feeling is mutual, Agent Hotchner.”

    “Your Agent Y/n has proven to be very impressive.”

    There was a blink-and-you-miss-it twitch of the lips for Gibbs. For half of a moment, he smiled. “That’s why I recruited them.”

    Meanwhile, you were still in the conference room with Spencer. Tony, Ziva, and McGee had joined the two of you. You were explaining the details of he case to your three coworkers.

    As usual, Tony got off topic as soon as he could. “So, Agent Reid” Tony was nose to nose with the uncomfortable FBI agent, “you’re just a hybrid of McGeek and L/n, aren’t you?” He sniffed the air. “I think I smell a bit of Palmer on you as well.”

    Spencer looked anywhere but Tony. “I don’t know who Palmer is.”

    “He’s our medical examiner’s assistant, Spencer,” you clarified, “Tony, what the hell are you doing?”

    Ziva tried to help you out. “Leave the poor kid alone.”

    Suddenly, Gibbs entered the room with Hotch. The rest of the BAU were behind them. Before Tony noticed their presence, Gibbs was already behind the movie expert. Tony received a slap to the back of the head.

    Gibbs leveled voice suggested, “Yeah, Tony. Leave Agent Reid alone.”

    Tony grimaced, “Yes, sir.” As he moved to the conference room table, Tony passed by you. He whispered in your ear in his usual, quick way, “You’ll be the dominate one in the relationship.”

    Naturally, you were mortified by his words. How had he figured out so quickly what was going on between you and Spencer? Was it really that obvious? Was it distracting from the case? You hoped it wasn’t. You glanced around. No one seemed to notice Tony’s exchange with you. Except for maybe Gibbs, whom you could’ve almost sworn that he’d shot a knowing smirk in your direction.

    Hotch directed, “Agent L/n, could you tell everyone what you’ve put together?”

    "NCIS’s victim was murdered less that five blocks away from the BAU’s second crime scene. Eleven of the fifteen victims in the fourth crime scene were taken from the same quarter mile radius.”

    Emily Prentiss added, “All of our earlier victims were from all over the state. Do you think our unsub is devolving in that he can’t wait long enough to go too far to find his victims anymore?”

    “Yes,” you agreed, “It would also explain how Colonel Wilfred, the victim from NCIS connects to the other murders without reflecting any of Courbet’s paintings.”

    JJ, suddenly got a notification on her phone. “There’s been two more reports of missing individuals in the same area. Both were white women in their twenties...about 220 ponds...they look like our second and third victims.” She looked worriedly from her phone to you.

    “The Hammock and The Sleeping Spinner...,” you whispered the second and third crimes to yourself in order. “...He could be going after Young Ladies on the Banks of Seine. It makes sense with his running chronological theme. The reason why they look so alike with the previous victims is because it was rumored Courbet used his sisters for a lot of his portraits. Out unsub might be trying to replicate the likeness in Gustave’s muses.”

    Hotch directed, “Alright. We may have some time to save these two women. Spencer, stick with the geographical profiling. Rossi, Prentiss, canvass Jones Avenue through Tenth Boulevard. JJ, Morgan, take Damien Road through Johnson Street. I’ll stay here and run point.”

    Gibbs instructed his own team, “Y/n, stay here and work with Reid. McGee, Tony: Dischem through Clark. Ziva, you and I will take Harren to Williams.”

    With the whole police department, along with most of Gibbs and Hotch’s team canvassing, it was likely the unsub’s house would be found within the following few hours.

    Meanwhile, you and Spencer were back in the nearly empty police station. The two of you were in separate conference room chairs, and you both were staring at that map. It had delivered an extremely helpful break in the case, but it seemed to have done all it could. Hotch was in another room with the police captain, so you and Spencer were left to your own devices.

    That was, until a secretary came running into the conference room. “Help! We need help!”

    Both you and Spencer launched out of your respective seats.

    “What’s wrong?” Spencer asked, alarmed.

    The secretary elaborated, “A girl called the tip line. She sounds terrified. She claims to be Samantha Hawford, one of--”

    “the missing women,” both you and Spencer finished with the secretary.

    “Connect us, please,” you requested as calmly as you could.

    She silently nodded, and quickly left the room.

    Seconds later, a line lit up on the phone in the conference room. It turned out to actually be Samantha. She was hysterical, but you eventually got her to calm down enough to communicate.

    Earlier, she had stolen the unsub’s phone, and she was waiting for a safe time to call the tip line she had seen a lot on T.V.

    While you encouraged Samantha to keep talking, Spencer called Garcia. She traced the phone call for the two of you.

    A minute later, you knew where Samantha was. You were on your way out with Spencer when Hotch gave you his blessing to go. It was obvious neither you nor Spencer were going to wait for Hotchner’s agreement.

    You and Spencer were able to get to Samantha's location in fifteen minutes. Which was good because five minutes into your journey, the unsub found Samantha and hung up the phone. You prayed the unsub kept her alive long enough for you and Spencer to get there.

    When the two of you did arrive, the unsub was about to stab the other girl with the first metal rod when you and Spencer found them. He had both the girls tied up as he prepared to stab them with the metal rods and shoot them in the heart.

    At first, Spencer tried to talk him down. It was obvious that it was going no where.

    “I can make sure the world knows of your works of art,” you suddenly lied, surprising yourself. “People took pictures of your crime--masterpieces. They could be hung anywhere and everywhere. You could become even more famous than Corbet. But let me tell you: if you hurt these two girls, no one will ever know who you are. Not your name, and not your face.”

    Chillingly, there was hope in the killer’s eyes. As you’d guessed, he looked a lot like Gustave Courbet himself. You could see why he wanted to use Courbet’s image to make himself famous.

    Eventually, you got the killer to turn over his weapons, and turn himself in. You cuffed him yourself. By then, your team, the local police, and the BAU had arrived. You turned the killer over to the local P.D. The two girls were crying as they thanked you profusely for saving them. You tried to push their attention away from you. It didn’t work too well.

    Once all the chaos was over, you were back at the police station, gathering your things.

    Hotch addressed you, making you turn around. “Agent L/n.”

    “Uh...Yes, sir?”

    His whole team was with him. “We would like to thank you for your work on this case.”

    Morgan complimented, “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

    “Oh, I don’t think that’s true,” you reasoned, “I mean, you guys have Spencer. He probably would've figured things out just as fast as me.. Well, almost as fast  as me.”

    Spencer smiled in a way that was contagious. “Don’t try to brush this off, Y/n. You know how important you are.”

    Hotch continued, “That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about. You’ve shown promising capabilities as a profiler, and we want you to know that there’s a place for you on our team.”

    “Wait. On your guys’ team? In the FBI?” You were nearly in shock. “I...I don’t know what to say.”

    JJ offered, “Well, we would really like it if you agreed.”

    “...I can’t. I’m sorry guys, but NCIS is my home. They’re my family there. I mean, honestly, in these past few days, you guys have kind become my family to, but I don’t think I could leave NCIS. At least not right now.”

    For the first time, you saw Aaron Hotchner truly smile. “It’s alright. The job’s here for you whenever you want it.”

    “Thank you.” You were sincerely grateful.

    Thee rest of the team left, but Spencer hung back.

    “You know,” you sweetly took his hand in yours, ”my not joining has nothing to do with you.”

    He squeezed your hand in his. “I know, but it would’ve been nice to see you more often.”

    “I guess we’re going to have to make it work as is,” you smirked.

    Keeping his gaze on your intertwined hands, Spencer chuckled. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

    Slowly, you leaned in to kiss the boy.

    At first, Spencer kept his hand in yours. Then, he moved both arms around you, pulling you in close.

    Your hands were o his chest, but you soon snaked them around his neck to get lost in his hair.

    Okay, so you were beginning to regret your choice not to join the BAU just a little bit.

***

    Before you went home that night, you went back to NCIS. Spencer had to go back to Quantico to get some paperwork done, so you couldn’t spend the night with him. You decided to go back to NCIS to do the same thing.

    “Y/n! Y/n, Y/n, Y/n!” Right outside the elevator doors, a certain adorable forensic scientist was waiting for you.

    Practically catching the incoming woman, you tried to keep her steady on her feet. “Hi, Abby! How’ve you been?”

    She was almost vibrating with excitement. “I’m completely fine. It’s you I wanna know about! How were Fornell’s friends at the FBI? Were they mean? They treated you nicely, right?” Abby continued on with the onslaught of questions until you got to your desk.

    When you sat down, you looked up to Abby as you searched your mind for a way to tell her you needed quiet right then.

    Gibbs beat you to it. He had been sitting at his desk. You only noticed him when he gathered his few things to leave. He stopped by your desk and explained, “Abby, it’s late and they’re tired. Leave them alone.”

    With a quick, slightly intimidated glance to Gibbs and a “Sorry, Y/n,” and wave to you, Abby was gone.

    However, Gibbs stayed behind a bit longer to knowingly ask, “So, you didn’t take the job, huh?”

    “No,” you tiredly smiled, “I’m staying right here, boss.”

    It was then that Gibbs did something that he very rarely did. He returned a smile. “Good,” was his final statement before Gibbs left for the night.

***

    In the end, you made sure the killer’s name was never released to the public. You didn’t want anything to be given to the distributed criminal mind. However, you knew that some name needed to be given to the person behind the painting-based murders. You just expected it to have something to do with Gustave Courbet himself. You didn’t expect the previously unknown subject to be called The Chuck E. Cheese Killer. The nickname ended a pizza franchise.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it! If you would like to read more, I have more fics over on my page. You should go check it out. Also, REQUESTS ARE OPEN. I take requests for one-shots, multi-chapters, headcannons, and preferences. No smut, please. I write for a variety of fandoms. If you’re wondering if I write for a specific fandom, please ask me. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you.<3

*******

(Behind the scenes stuff)

Proofreader: @girl-of-many-faces

Crime scene #1 here

Crime scene #2 here

Crime scene #3 here

Crime scene #4 here

What would’ve been crime scene #5 here

[lucysstoryworld]

Polar Opposite | Chapter 5

This is far overdue but life is incredibly hectic at the moment but I’m easing myself into this! I apologise if the read more does not work.

Warnings: violence, domestic abuse

"Rob is due to bring in the profits from the club and same with Henry, they have until five this evening to deliver, correct?" Tom asked Harrison. The two of them were discussing the money due from different clubs and bars Tom owned-- both legal and illegal. 

"Yeah. We've gotten most of the money from the clubs excluding those two and then there's some more due tomorrow morning."

"And Drew has sorted the budget. No deficit I assume?" Tom asked rhetorically with a smug grin curling his lips.

"Have we ever gone into deficit?" The boys broke into chuckles. 

Tom often wondered if it was gone to his head. The answer was; yes, it had very much indeed. He was aware that he had all the money the world could offer to him. But he had his family and Harrison to stop him from becoming ignorant and reckless. The mob leader's thoughts ran to you; someone who was from an entirely different, more pessimistic, background. Parents dead at the tender age of six, in and out of foster homes and orphanages all the way up until eighteen when you became a poorly socialised adult with more miles on your soul than most. When Tom really thought about it, he understood why you turned to something like heroin. It was clear that you suffered from your mental health and had self-esteem issues deeper than anything he could fathom. 

Tom was pulled from his thoughts when a quick tap sounded against the door of his office and you walked in with your bucket of cleaning supplies in hand. When you realised that the room was not vacant, you let a small gasp out of your mouth. "I-I'm sorry. I'll come back in a bit."

"No, stay and get your work done," Tom said. He found it strange that just as he was thinking about you that she walked through the door.

You began to work away as fast as possible, feeling every hair on your body stand on end with the feeling of being watched like a tiger stalks its prey. A few taps on the door made you all look in its direction as one of the other workers from Tom's assortment of lapdogs poked his head through the door.

"Sorry to interrupt, boss, but Mister Williams is here."

"Fuck sake, I'm busy. What does he want?" Tom groaned, his blood boiling at the thought of that man coming into his office. He had never liked the lad, and for no reason either. He was just one of those people that managed to irritate Tom by simply breathing in his general space.

"He didn't say, sir. He said that he was only going to speak with you," The man replied, annoyance evident in his tone. You watched all the reactions to 'Williams' arrival and you could tell he wasn't a welcome guest. 

"Right send him in, let's get this over with quickly then." You noticed how both Tom and Harrison hardened their expressions, similar to the looks they gave you when they barked orders at you.

However, nothing could have prepared you for the shock that filled your being when 'Mister Williams' entered the room. You thought you had felt the worst of your fear when the infamous Tom Holland had sunk his claws into you, but when he walked in it felt like the whole world stopped moving and time was at a standstill.

Your ex-boyfriend strolled into the room. He held himself with an air of entitlement and smugness, the kind that made you want to roll your eyes. 

Oliver Williams.

You began to pack up the cleaning supplies and leave the room, your heart inching its way into your throat as Oliver neared Tom's desk. Your efforts to leave unnoticed were in vain as Oliver made eye contact with you, his conniving green eyes widening ever so slightly. 

"(F/n). . . surprised you're not dead yet but, you don't look too far from it." Your eyes shot to Tom and Harrison, pleading them to intervene with one look. That too was in vain as anyone with eyes could see they did not care. 

"How do you know her?" Harrison snapped.

"Used to fuck her before I raised my standards. The bitch stole money from me to buy heroin." Tears welled in your eyes at his claim, knowing that it was lies he was spewing. You took money, but it was to get away from him.

Tom looked over to you, eyes meeting. While Tom was well within reason to believe Oliver given the fact you now seemingly had a track record, the look in your eyes told him to not trust a word he was saying. One of the things that made Tom one of the most formidable man in the mafia was his ability to read people's body language. He knew if someone was lying to him and if they were telling the truth.

Tom did not let on that he didn’t believe Oliver and barked, "Well we have her kept under a tight leash. Now, why are you here? (F/n), leave."

And like a dog, you left with your tail between your legs. You walked through the hallways with memories of your relationship with Oliver flashing in your mind.

* * *

You and Oliver had been together for just a year, on that day. Your relationship was far from healthy. Arguments occurred on the daily, Oliver's anger and drug problems causing a rift in the bond.  Although this was the one fight you could remember like it had happened just yesterday. 

Oliver stood before you, rolled up fifty-pound notes falling from his grasp onto the floor, his eyes screaming rage, "I seriously can't wrap my fuckin head around why you're such an uptight bitch! Look at me! I'm rich, on top of the fucking world!" 

"It's not your money! You stole it! You don't deserve it! The only reason you're on top is because that's what scum does, it rises!" You snarled, anger controlling every nerve in your being.

"Maybe if you took some of the shit I buy, then you'd be much more chill. You're a fucking psycho!"

"Oh, I'm the psycho yeah? Have you looked in the mirror recently?! You're stealing money from people to buy drink and drugs! I'd much rather be a psycho than be like you!" You screeched, your temper reaching an all-time high. It seemed as though it was the same for him and it became apparent when you felt his hand make contact with your face. In a blind rage, you clawed at his face, vaguely remember him roaring in both pain and vexation. Then the real fight began, limbs being thrown and kicked at each other until finally a fist was landed onto the side of your head and your vision went black.

* * * 

"Why are you just sitting there?" Harrison asked as him and Tom moved closer to you. You hadn't realised you'd stopped moving when you remembered that day. You hurried to your feet, muttering an apology as you cleaned the window. "You didn't answer the question," Tom spoke, his voice strangely interested.

"Just remembering something is all," You replied, hoping and praying to any higher being above that they would not pry any further. It was clear to the men that it was about Williams, however, Tom had a hard time convincing himself that he did not care about your past. 

As the day came to a close, Tom had decided that he wanted to know the connection between you and Oliver Williams -- and definitely not because he was interested, not at all. He just wanted to know if you had any further connection to the mafia; that is all.

So that's how he found himself at your bedroom door at seven forty-five in the evening. He waltzed into the room, to be met with the sight of you crying into your heads. You didn't lift your head, knowing who it was by the lack of knocking on the door. 

"What's the connection you have with Williams. And I want the truth."

You lifted your head, shaky hands removing the tears from your face. "We dated for three years. It was never a good relationship, we often fought and we would usually end up taking lumps out of each other. But after one day, I had enough. I took some money and left. It didn't lead to an amazing life as you can see but anything was better than the road I was going down with him. I think I would've ended up rotting in some bin bag in the canal if I had've stayed with him."

So you didn't buy heroin with his money?" Tom asked, trying to pick apart your life like it was a mind game.

"It wasn't his fucking money. He stole it so he could buy heroin for himself. I took the money and got my arse out of there and to a hostel on the opposite side of the city and here we are," You said. This felt like Tom was talking to the real you, the woman beneath the pain and suffering who had some idea of her self-worth.

"When did you start using?" 

Tom could see that he had treaded into very dangerous waters with the way your whole body tensed. Your eyes wandered to the ceiling, trying to find the words to even begin to explain the beginning. Tom looked at you, seeing the turmoil pulsing inside your soul and before he could think too much about what he was doing, he began to speak, "Look, don't take this as an act of kindness or me alleviating your punishment but there is something about you that interests me. . ." He was quick to realise what he said and with a snap in his tone, he spat, "So while you're working, I'm going to pick apart your life-- figure out everything there is to know about you down to the most minute of details. Then you'll be gone." Terror coursed throughout your blood vessels but, there was something nagging inside your gut. Something was telling you that you witnessed the more human less sociopathic Tom Holland for a moment.

And that did not sit well with you in the slightest.

Word count: 1723

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[thestoryofme13]

Chapter 2: Bare Your Soul

Summary:  Patton finds help when he has no one.

Pairings: Analogical

Warnings: Crying, Fear, nausea, hospital mention, physical harm mention, toxic relationship, isolation, abuse, infidelity, physical abuse, feeling alone, hopelessness, tired

AO3 Link, Prequel 

Chapter 1, 

Once Patton heard the kind caring voice on the other side he broke into loud sobs. He could barely distinguish what the voice was saying over the sound of his own cries. He tried to take a steadying breath that ended up coming out more shaky than he would like followed by, “I--I don’t even know why I called,” the statement losing its point as he hiccuped trying to suppress the crying.

“What’s your name?” Virgil asked softly knowing that addressing someone by their name can often help build a relationship and make them feel more comfortable.

Patton’s breath hitched not having expected the person on the other side to sound so concerned. He had never heard a stranger sound so invested in another person after only a few minutes, “P--patton….”

Virgil smiled through the phone, “Hey Patton, I’m right here. I am not going anywhere. You called for a reason, let me try to help.”

Patton shook his head and laughed dryly, “I don’t know why I called….I felt alone. I’m scared…”

The volunteer nodded his head, “Are you in immediate danger?”

“No...No...I don’t think so anyways. He’s gone now,” His voice small and childlike, sounding guilty and afraid.

Virgil sighed in relief, “It’s alright, Patton. You say he’s gone now. Can you tell me who? Is he why you called?”

Patton started walking not with any destination in mind but he had to keep moving, if he sat still the intrusive thoughts would get louder, “My boyfr-” He grimaced, “ex-boyfriend….” he quickly corrected feeling immediately nauseous.

“Did something happen tonight?” Virgil asked gently, trying hard not to push but also realizing that at least this man’s story he could probably relate to his actual life. He had enough training and psychology classes to know that a good tactic to help someone in crisis was to make their story relatable, so they didn’t feel alone.

Patton laughed darkly as he kicked a plastic water bottle on the sidewalk, “Yeah you could say that….more like something happened for the last three years.” His voice growing tired as memories flooded his brain.

Virgil nodded, “Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Patton felt the tears well in his eyes, “No...I--uh-well I don’t think so….” His voice cut off as a small sob escaped, “B--but, R---Ro.”

“Ro? Is that your ex?” Virgil asked trying to find out as much information as Patton would allow to try and help this person to the best of his ability.

Patton nearly fell over at that thought, “No...He is...was...my best friend. But he ruined it….He loved ruining every friendship I had. Ro was the only one who stayed by my side.”

Virgil nodded trying to prompt the other person to continue, “Your ex, ruined this friendship tonight? You think Ro won’t want to be your friend anymore?”

“Ruined my friendship is an understatement. I wouldn’t blame Ro, if he never wanted to see me again. Ex was awful to him. Roman didn’t deserve any of that….and worse yet I left him alone after everything  that happened.”

Virgil pulled a soft smile, happy that he was getting the caller to open a bit more, “If Roman stayed before then why do you think he’d leave now?”

Patton shook his head laughing at how naive the person on the phone could sound without knowing the whole story, “Because I was able to hide most of the bad things my ex did... No one knew half the things he did. I didn’t want them to see him as a monster because I loved him. I wasn’t ready to give up yet. I thought he could change….” The last statement coming out in a whisper.

Virgil smiled finally finding common ground between them, “My boyfriend had an ex like that in high school. He still doesn’t talk about that ex much and I don’t push him. I know enough and saw enough.” He sighed prepared for Patton to fight him on this next part, “But Patton, if your ex was isolating you, that is enough. That is a form of abuse, from the way you speak I have a feeling there was a lot more happening but no one should dictate who you can and cannot hang out with.”

“He did so many things...He was rarely faithful, he never took no as answer….the marks...those were less common mainly when I did something I shouldn’t,” Patton said in a low whisper as though he was telling someone a secret.

Virgil tightened his hand around the mouse at his desk feeling the anger surge through him at this person’s ex he didn’t even know the name of, “None of that is okay. What happened tonight in particular, Patton? You don’t have to tell me. I just don’t want you to feel alone.”

Patton sighed, “Well….I left Roman alone with him...and I c-came back and…” The tears were falling a bit more now, “He hurt Roman...It--it’s my--fault.”

“Patton, no. It is not your fault. This is your ex’s fault. He chose to do all these things. You didn’t tell him to. You cannot save and protect everyone. It is not your job.” Virgil spoke slowly keeping his voice even and trying to hide the anger he held for Patton’s ex.

Patton felt his breathing getting hard, “I--i...but.” He stopped walking, falling into the grass in front of some random house. The sobs leaving his body only making it more difficult to catch his breath.

Between the sobs, Virgil could barely pick up on the fact that the other man’s breathing was erratic. He took a deep breath trying to push the anger he held for this caller’s ex and their situation. Virgil truly felt he had no reason to be angry but this situation hit too close to home, when all he could hear in Patton’s voice was how his boyfriend’s life could have been.

Virgil thought back to what helped him when he felt so hopeless and alone in high school. He smiled as he remembered the student a couple years older than him who helped him when he had no one else. That student was likely the reason he was still alive and chose the path he did.

Through his smile he started to speak, “Alright this helped me when I needed it so maybe it will help you. There are so many wonderful reasons to be alive: Puppies, kittens, flowers, fried food, ice cream, sunrises, and people who can make an impact in your life.” His eyes teared up as he continued, “These things will pass. Writing reasons to keep pushing through and putting them on sticky notes where you can see them every day helped me when very little else did.”

What Virgil hadn’t considered was that his words only made Patton’s breathing worse. He cursed under his breath and quickly changed tactics to try and guide Patton to calming down rather than flooding him with positivity.

“Hey, Patton. Listen to my voice. I’m going to walk through a breathing exercise. In for four, hold for seven and then out for eight.” Virgil said calmly and slowly listening to hear Patton attempting to follow his instructions. He walked the other through the exercise for a few minutes, until Patton’s breathing sounded more even.

Patton followed Virgil’s instructions to best of his ability and what felt like an eon later breathing became less of a chore and more of something his body seemed capable of doing without fixating on it, “I--I’m sorry.”

Virgil smiled through the phone, “You don’t have to apologize. I do this job to help people and tonight you are one of the people I am helping, because you need it.”

Patton sat up slightly from his place on the grass and looked around trying to discern exactly where he was, he didn’t recognize anything immediately but continued searching. He sighed into the phone, “Everything broke tonight….How am I supposed to start over from here? I don’t have anyone...Roman learned the one thing I tried to keep from him….Just how broken I am.”

Virgil shook his head knowing this line of thinking all too well, struggling with it himself and the insecurities his boyfriend had and still has on occasion from having dated such a sleaze, “Patton you can count on me. I have certain hours that I work and I would be more than willing to give the hours. It is likely they would use the information you had to give at the beginning of the call to match you with me anyways. Something about building a rapport.”

Patton took note of Virgil’s hours in the notes section of his phone. He chewed his lip not sure if he wants to ask this question, “Do you think Roman is angry…?” His voice came out small and close to a whimper.

Virgil’s heart broke at the tone, “No I don’t think he is angry. He might be scared of your ex, worried about how long you put up that behavior and how hurt you might have gotten in that relationship for so long.” He sighed then continued, “As someone who has deeply cared about someone in a similar situation as you, once I knew the story, I was never once angry, not at him.”

Patton smiled softly, “T--thank you…” He took a deep breath in, “That helps a lot. Good-bye, Virgil.”

Virgil smiled into his headset, “You’re welcome. You have my hours, name, and know where I am. If you need anything don’t hesitate. Good-bye, Patton.”

Patton hung up the phone and switched to google maps trying to figure out where he was in relation to his apartment. He chuckled when he finally figured out, he had somehow managed to walk about five miles away from his home. He brought up the directions and prepared himself for the long journey home, only then noticing the time 3:30 a.m.

He wanted to be home before Roman would have to leave for work, if for no other reason than to prove he was okay. But Patton could not force his feet to go any faster, he was so tired. Every step took way more energy than he had left and his entire body felt heavy. Each time he had to pick up his leg to take a step felt like he had cement block tied to his feet.

After an hour and a half, he finally saw his building, just seeing the building was enough to give him a little extra energy to pick up his pace. The promise of his warm bed all so inviting but at the same time realizing it would be empty next to him was terrifying. He checked the time again and sure enough he probably just missed Roman leaving for work by a few minutes.

Patton sighed as he approached the door and let himself in, shooting a text to Roman that said he made it home or at least that is what he hoped it read. His eyesight was already bad as is but how tired he was made his eyes go crossed making reading and typing nearly impossible. He finally dragged himself to his bedroom and flopped face first on the bed. He didn’t bother with changing into his pajamas or taking his glasses off. All that mattered was he was in his bed, warm and safe. The rest if the world could wait for him to find the energy to deal with it.

Taglist:  @fandomsandanythingelse @justanotherpurplebutterfly @nyxwordsmith @michealawithana @fanfictionsideaccount@bubblycricket @moose-1967  @electricdaisycat @coffeestudylive @milomeepit @areyousirius-noheisdead @dragonangel-funandfire @leesacrakon @poisonlyra @sunshine-goblin @ilovemygaydad @panicatthesalalmander @thisrandomperson102

[frauleinsmaria]

Chance Encounters

Based on the prompt “I don’t know who you are but we keep running into each other on the street and getting into screaming arguments over the stupidest things and I’m actually looking forward to our next meeting bc you’re annoying as hell but damn you’re hot and it’s kind of fun to argue with you”

Written for my match for the Captain Swan Spring Fic Formal. Surprise @welllpthisishappening! Laura, I’ve had so much fun interacting with you over the past few weeks- although it’s been hard to make sure I didn’t reveal myself talking to you elsewhere 😂 You’re such a wonderful presence in this fandom and I’m so glad I got to be paired with you. I know you like both friends and enemies to lovers and lots of banter, so I hope you enjoy reading this lil fic as much as I enjoyed writing it <3 

Also thanks @distant-rose and @awkwardnessandbaseball for getting the @csficformal together! It’s been a blast

Also on AO3

It’s certainly not how he expects his Monday morning to start.

It shouldn’t surprise him though, considering the direction his day is already heading in from the moment he wakes up. A power outage in his apartment building the night before causes his alarm clock to reset, meaning he wakes up less than half an hour before he’s supposed to leave for work. He cuts himself shaving thanks to being in a hurry and hopes no one will notice the nick on his chin. He goes to make his regular cup of coffee after getting dressed and realizes he ran out of coffee beans over the weekend and forgot to buy more.

His last resort is leaving everything else he needs to do as is so he has time to stop by the coffee shop on his way to the office. Of course it’s not his biggest priority, but he’s already heard about the workload Regina has waiting for him today and knows he won’t be able to deal with it properly without some kind of caffeine.

Thankfully, the line this morning is short, and he’s able to order his drink and be on his way quickly. But it’s just his luck that his phone vibrates with a text from Liam as he’s turning to head out the door, and he’s reading it when he collides with a wall and spills coffee on the front of his white shirt.

“Damn it!”

Whoops, not a wall. A woman, and a very angry one at that, judging by the expression on her face and the similar coffee stain she now sports on her own grey blouse.

Killian shakes his head as the shock wears off and takes in the death stare he’s receiving from the blonde in front of him. She’s holding a drink in her hand as well, but most of it still seems to be in the cup rather than on their clothes like his. “I’m terribly sorry, love. I should have been paying more attention to what I was doing.”

“Yeah, you should have,” she snaps, pulling a napkin out of her purse and attempting to clean up the mess she’s wearing.

There’s a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue, but he manages to hold back and tries to think of a way to be the bigger person here.

“Love, if there’s anything I can do-”

“The best thing you can do right now is to leave me alone so I can go before I’m later for work than I already am. And I’m not your love.”

Any desire he has to be polite is out the window as the the events of the morning all catch up to him. “With that attitude, I’m bloody glad you aren’t!”

“So am I!” She turns on her heel and leaves the coffee shop before he has a chance to say anything else.

By some stroke of luck, he’s able to make it through the day without any other mishaps.

But he can’t explain why the thought of the annoying blonde from the coffee shop stays in his mind long afterwards.

-/-

It’s Thursday afternoon when Killian runs into her again- not literally this time, thank goodness. He’s on his lunch break, headed to the gym near his office when he sees her leaving the building as he’s walking up. She glances in his direction briefly when she sees him, doing a bit of a double take as she realizes where they’ve seen each other before.

“Afternoon, love.”

She makes a sour face. “I thought we established that I’m not your love,” she reminds him, using her fingers to draw air quotes around the word.

“Sorry, lo- lass,” he corrects himself. “Just a habit I suppose.” He blames it on Liam; their mother made quite the effort to ensure the two of them both had adequate manners, and he’d enforced the same ideals on Killian long after she passed.

But it’s clear by her unwavering expression that she doesn’t buy it. “Whatever.” It’s not unlike her reaction a few days earlier when he’d tried to apologize for the coffee incident.

As much as he wants to ignore her and go about with his day, something keeps him there. He’d be lying to himself if he said it wasn’t at least partly attraction; he hadn’t paid much attention to her in the coffee shop thanks to the circumstances, but now he can’t seem to focus on much besides blonde hair, green eyes, and the black and white outfit she’s clearly just finished a workout in judging by the way it sticks with sweat to her thin frame.

And yet, while he’ll willingly admit to finding her attractive, there’s something else- maybe it’s the attitude she’s developed toward him, or her unwavering stubbornness, he doesn’t know- that keeps him from letting things alone like he normally would. “Do you always act like this when someone tries to apologize or be nice to you?”

Killian watches as her jaw sets and sees he’s struck a cord, although he can’t say whether or not it was unintentional. “Do you always butt into other people’s business?”

“Regardless, it seems yours isn’t worth my time.” She rolls her eyes and walks away from him for the second time.

His annoyance with her is just the motivation he needs for his workout, but like the time before, his thoughts stay occupied with the woman he knows nothing about, aside from the fact that she must be some kind of a force to be reckoned with.

He can’t decide whether she intrigues or irritates him more.

-/-

The next Tuesday is when Killian becomes convinced that the universe hates him.

He’s walking to work, sans coffee after finally replenishing his stock at home, when he catches a familiar glimpse of blonde hair coming out of a store as its owner taps away at her phone. He doesn’t try to get her attention; she’s not exactly his biggest fan as it is, and bothering her for no reason certainly won’t change that.

It doesn’t matter how honorable his intentions are, though, since she notices him when she glances over her shoulder not a moment later. She stops in her tracks and he hears her groan as he’s walking up.

“Are you following me or something? Because I have a gun and-”

Killian holds a hand up to stop her. “Not to worry, lass.” (He’s remembered what not to call her this time.) “Believe it or not, it seems that you and I are yet again the victims of mere coincidence.”

“Seriously? Who talks like that?”

“A person who’s about as thrilled with our recent pattern of encounters as you are.”

“I’m not making you walk beside me to chat, you know! I think you and I both have better things to do.”

“Finally something we can agree on. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

He wastes no time leaving her behind and getting to work just as fast as he can. He’s annoyed yet again, something he’s convinced will be a common theme whenever he runs into her. But, bloody hell, he still can’t answer the question as to how and why she’s managed to get both under his skin and stuck in his mind so easily.

-/-

Killian goes a week without running into her after their last encounter on the street. He feels relieved considering how things between them are all but guaranteed them to go- or, at least, he thinks he does. It’s Liam that brings it to his attention when they’re at The Rabbit Hole sharing a drink after work.

“Looking for someone, are you?” his brother asks, seeing Killian’s eyes go to the bar’s entrance when the bell above the door chimes. A group of women arrive together, but he quickly loses interest in the redheads and brunettes.

He shakes his head as he takes a drink. “No. What makes you ask?”

Liam doesn’t look convinced. “Every time we’ve been out over the past few weeks, you seem to be waiting for someone else to show up. Not only that, but you’ve been examining every blonde within a mile’s radius, and I’d like to know just why.”

“You’re not going to leave me alone about this, are you?”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Alright then.” Killian pauses as he tries to figure out how to explain his recent series of meetings to his brother. “To make a long story shorter: there’s this woman-”

“I knew it,” Liam mutters under his breath.

“There’s this woman,” he continues, ignoring him. “I haven’t the slightest idea who she is, but we keep running into each other and always end up having some petty argument before we part ways, only to see each other a few days later and do the same thing all over again.”

“Huh. And just what exactly are you and this lass always arguing over?”

“That’s just it; it’s usually just mindless bickering because I seem to annoy her as much as she does me.”

“Is she pretty?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Just a question.”

Killian rolls his eyes, but mutters, “Aye. Very much so.”

A moment of silence passes as Liam taps at the side of his glass and processes everything Killian’s just told him. “Well, I wish I could think of something to say to help you out, but all I’ve got is that you’re making this situation much more difficult than it needs to be.”

“How?! It's not like I'm intentionally trying to run into her.”

“No, but it doesn't sound as if you're trying to avoid her, either,” Liam argues. “Just admit it, Killian: you like her.”

“I don't bloody know her well enough to like her!”

“Maybe you should get to know her then. What’s that saying, opposites attract? She could end up surprising you.”

Killian wants nothing more than to argue with his brother and insist his suggestion is ridiculous. But as much as it pains him to admit it, he's up for having another run in with her just to see if there’s a way to make it out without yelling or sarcastic remarks. He doesn't tell Liam all of this, only says, “Maybe I’ll think about it. Maybe.”

He can already tell from the smug look on Liam’s face that he's going to get an I told you so if things turn out in his favor.

-/-

It's only three days later when he thinks maybe the universe doesn't hate him after all.

He's only been at work for a little over an hour, things going relatively well for a Friday morning, when there's a knock on his office doo. He looks up from his seat behind the desk to see his boss in the doorway.

“Regina, something I can do?”

To Killian’s surprise, the brunette actually smiles at him. He can't tell if it's genuine or not, but it's a smile just the same. Those can be far and few between where Regina Mills is concerned.

“Yes. But first, there's someone I'd like for you to meet.” She steps to the side and Killian has to bite his tongue to keep from cursing. “This is Emma Swan. Miss Swan, this is Killian Jones, one of our top family law attorneys.”

Her eyes widen as she recognizes him, but she doesn't say anything other than a quick, “Nice to meet you” and shakes his hand when he stands and offers it to her.

“Killian, Miss Swan is here for Humbert’s Bail Bonds. She’s looking for some information regarding the Lewis case from a few weeks ago; I figured you would be the one she needed to see.”

She's not wrong, the file he'd used to hold the casework from a messy child support ordeal is still in the top drawer of his desk where he'd left it once the trial was over. “Yes, I'm sure I can help with whatever's necessary.”

“Good to know,” Regina answers. “I'm due for a meeting downstairs, so I'll leave you to it.” The blonde- Emma- thanks her as she walks away, leaving the two of them alone in his office.

“So, the Lewis case, eh? I hope that's an incident I don't have to repeat any time soon,” he says, going through the desk drawer and pulling out the file she needs. He gestures for her to sit down as she takes it from him.

“Yeah. I'm the one who tracked the husband down, and my boss apparently needs the rest of the case information to turn over to his boss for one reason or another.” Her eyes scan over the words on the pages before she pulls a small notebook out of her purse and begins to scribble notes on a blank page.

Killian waits for her to say something about their past meetings; some kind of sarcastic remark, at least. But to his surprise, her focus stays on her work for the ten or fifteen minutes she's there, occasionally asking a question or two about his work or making a comment about the weather. Either she wants to avoid a confrontation, or she actually doesn't recognize him. The second option seems unlikely, but still believable.

Emma hands him back the Lewis file once she's collected all the information she needs. “I appreciate your help.”

“It was my pleasure,” he answers, for once remembering not to refer to her as love.

“Oh, and Mr. Jones?” She stops at the door. “It was...surprisingly nice to have a conversation with you without any yelling.”

She's out the door and gone before the “bloody hell” has a chance to leave his lips.

-/-

It doesn’t take long for Killian to think that maybe the universe does in fact hate him after all, because having a name to go with the face only makes it that much harder to get Emma Swan out of his head.

They’re still all but strangers- knowing the other’s name and workplace doesn’t exactly count as having an acquaintance- but he had to admit that he could accept the idea of that changing. Seeing they were capable of having a pleasant conversation has him believing that it’s possible, if only barely so. He toys around with the idea of somehow trying to get more information about her from Regina, but that could likely end with both women angry at him, his boss for using her influence the wrong way and Emma for going out of his way to get to know her.

Things soon take another turn and make him wonder just what kind of ridiculous dream he's stuck in.

Liam talks him into going to his girlfriend’s sister’s birthday party the next Friday night. He doesn't want to go- socializing with a crowd of mostly strangers isn’t something he goes out of his way to do- but he likes Elsa, and Anna seemed like a nice girl from the few times they've met, so he agrees. He and Liam show up at Elsa’s apartment precisely at seven, a bottle of wine tucked under his brother’s arm.

It should be no surprise that Emma’s is the first face he sees after Elsa lets them in.

She’s standing in the hall talking to a brunette with a pixie cut, laughing at something the other woman has said when she notices him and pauses. They’ve gotten so good at this now that she doesn’t have to wonder who he is or where she’s seen him anymore, especially thanks to her office visit. Speaking to her hasn’t always been the greatest idea, but he’s not about to waste the chance if she is indeed warming up to him. He tells Liam he’s going to speak to someone, but she’s standing right in front of him when he turns back around.

“Jones?”

“Yes, it seems we meet again.”

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“What are you doing here?”

“I asked you first.” He catches a glimpse of her quizzical expression as she takes a sip from the beer bottle she’s holding.

“Elsa is my brother’s girlfriend.”

“You’re Liam’s brother?!”

“You know him, too?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s tried to give me your number more than once.”

“Oh, bloody hell.” He glances over his shoulder at Liam who’s trying- and failing- to pretend he hasn’t been watching them. To think he’d already talked to his brother about her at the bar that night and he’d already known who she was.

“Yeah. But I don’t like it when my family and friends try to set me up with other people, so I thought I’d be nice and return, er, I guess not return the favor.” He can tell she was trying to save him from an unpleasant experience she’s likely had in the past, but it might be her way of letting him know she wouldn’t be interested regardless. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t deflate his confidence a bit. “Er, so how do you know Elsa and Anna?”

“They’re friends with my sister-in-law,” she answers, nodding her head towards the woman she’d been standing with earlier, who smiles when she sees them looking her way.

“Ah. It’s a small world, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Smaller than I thought.”

Killian chooses his next words carefully. “I would offer to get you a drink, but it seems that’s unnecessary,” he gestures to the one she already has.

“Maybe so, but rumor has it Elsa’s got pizza in the kitchen, and I haven’t had dinner yet.” Emma raises an eyebrow, indicating this is his chance and he’d better take advantage of it now.

“Give me five minutes.”

“I like pepperoni!”

-/-

“How long are you giving Liam to finally pop the question?”

“Honestly, love? I’m quite surprised he hasn’t already. Perhaps he’s worried Elsa won’t say yes.”

“Are you kidding? Look at her; she’s as much of a lovesick puppy as he is.”

Killian follows her eyes to where the couple stands outside together on the balcony, completely oblivious to everyone else around them. “Aye. They seem to be quite the good match for each other.”

“They remind me of David and Mary Margaret in that way; I couldn't have picked anyone more suited for either of them.” He senses a bit of disappointment in her words, but she doesn’t elaborate on the subject, and he doesn’t ask.

She’s asking about his job and the law firm when her phone vibrates. “It’s my boss,” she groans after taking a look at the screen. “Give me a sec?” He nods as steps out to answer.

Emma’s back not a minute later, frowning. “Sorry, I have to bail. A skip I’ve been tracking for almost a month was just spotted downtown, and my boss wants me to grab the jerk before he tries to run again.”

“Not a problem, lass,” he tells her, attempting to mask his own disappointment. “I can tell you put a lot of effort into what you do.”

“Yeah, maybe sometimes too much,” she mumbles, getting her purse and jacket from the seat beside him. “I guess I’ll see you around, Killian.”

He smiles as he watches her leave because he knows she’s probably right.

-/-

She’s right.

They cross each other’s paths three times over the next two weeks, twice at the coffee shop where they first unofficially met- with no coffee spilt either time, thankfully- and then at a local carnival that Liam has yet again coerced him into going to. (Killian thinks later that his brother wouldn’t need to go to so much effort to get him to do things if he knew Emma would be there.) Each encounter they’ve had since the party has been much different than the first few; although they both have a dry sense of humor and are too sarcastic for their own good, there has yet to be an instance that involves yelling or has someone convinced they hate the other.

It’s gotten to the point now that he’s begun to think of Emma as more than just a regular acquaintance, but maybe even a friend: He texts her corny jokes when she’s bored during a stakeout and she’s taken to willingly sitting at his table when they show up at the same restaurant for lunch. They haven’t gone as far as to share the more painful details of their pasts, but he’s convinced her background must closely mirror his own somehow based on her demeanor when something along the lines of childhood or family comes up in conversation. She always changes the subject or gives some kind of vague answer and he knows better than to push the subjects any further. It’s evident she’s been through quite a bit in her life and he sees no reason to make her reminisce any more than she already does.

And, yes, he likes her. A lot, if he’s being honest. And it’s just his luck that he realizes it about the same time Liam does.

“Why not ask her out already? The worst thing she can do is say no.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Killian groans. “I can’t complain; I’m lucky we’re even able to be friends considering the way we met.”

“And you’re always going to wonder what could have been if you don’t take that chance.”

Liam’s words stick with him for quite some time afterwards because he knows he’s right. Emma may hate him for going through with this, but he may come to hate himself even more for being a coward.

It’s Monday night when he goes over to Emma’s apartment after leaving the office.

“Hey, Killian,” she greets him when she comes to the door. “What brings you by?”

“Go out with me?”

“What?” The dumbfounded expression on her face makes him regret not thinking this through.

“Sorry, love, it’s just I know we didn’t exactly start off on the right foot, but I’ve found myself becoming more and more fond of you and I was wondering if...oh, bloody hell,” he curses, running a hand through his already unkempt hair. She was definitely going to say no. “You know what, Swan, forget it. I’ll just go.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry for botheri- wait, what?” He can’t have heard her correctly.

“Yes.” Emma smiles. “I was hoping you would ask eventually.” She leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek before turning to go back into her apartment. “Tomorrow night, pick me up at seven. I’ll be waiting.”

Liam yells “I bloody told you so!” when he calls him on the way home. Killian’s too thrilled to care.

[johnna-oneal-trash-writer]

yea so i think i have a potential first chapter here

He wandered, he wandered through the trees and branching paths as he tried to come to grips with what happened before finding himself back on the main pathway. He walked, walked for what felt like miles. And then, sitting at the first bench he found, silently let tears run down his face.

 “Why?” he asked, looking up but not seeing.

For the first time in many years the robed man did something unexpected, he was entirely unsure why he did what he did. He responded. Naturally this wouldn’t be considered unusual in any way, other than the fact that this man had spent nearly everyday invisible. But something about the distraught boy sitting at the other end of the park bench compelled him. “‘Why’, what?”

The boy frowned as he turned his head revealing his puffy eyes to the stranger who he was sure had not been there recently.“Why would he do this? My best friend, he hurt them… and now I feel lost.” slumping over his knees resting his face into his hands.

“What is your name boy?” The stranger asked, unintentionally sounding more rude than polite.

“Milo,” he said.

“Well, Milo, just because someone has done something horrible, does not mean you just up and stop caring for that person.” The stranger felt as though he could have been projecting onto milo, but felt that he parted sound wisdom all the same.

“I know, but I feel as though part of me has died” the tears coming back, hid his face again.

“And that feeling will never fade.” The man shifted uncomfortably,”Milo what matters now is what you do with that feeling, use it to grow.”

The man struck a nerve, Milo wanted to scream, the feeling of suffocation and bile rising and this stomach tying and untying itself looked to the stranger with all of his strength to remain collected, found him nowhere to be seen. The robed stranger vanished, but not without a trace. A single calling card lay next to him and it read “Magical Consultation and Collaborations: William V. Hawkshaw Master Magician”.

The robed stranger had low expectations for Milo, he had fallen apart, losing something crucial and difficult to get back. As low as his expectations were, Milo had done something else unexpected, he stood up and holding the card in his fingers with calm curiosity walked away. Once again he was alone, invisible and grinning like a fool. He would watch Milo and keep an eye on him, the first person to attract his attention in over a decade was going to be his apprentice sooner or later.

Milo wandered after a time through the dusk fallen upstate town as though in a dream. He wandered downtown observing things he assumed most of the college students bar hopping would not. The small building that served as the town's museum had changed the window display this month, it was about trees or something only a few people would actually pay for admission. His eyes drifting from museums front to across the street where the most popular bar in town stood two stories tall with painted blood red brickwork trimmed with a dark green. But the only thing he paid mind to was five pentagrams at the base of the wall each roughly four feet apart. 

All the years downtown and around this bar  it was his first time noticing, intrigued he decided to have a drink here as if the establishment earned it, rather than use the front entrance he followed the wall right, through the back patio and to the rear bar inside. Where the barista was occupied with the clearly freshman college girls ordering various brightly coloured drinks that looked like something you see on television or online. She flashed a smile at the last girl ordering, finishing her drink with a practiced speed serving her glass with a discreetly added phone number.

“Hey man, what can i get’cha?” she asked, diverting her attention to Milo.

“Black Russian” he answered, sliding his cards toward her. Drink in hand Milo found a sequestered booth in the back of the room. After settling in, finally pulling out the calling card he received, addressed the matter at hand. 

“What the fuck was that?” He asked himself, maybe a bit louder than intended. No matter, it was usually quiet on Thursday, and it was more or less empty here. But he didn’t care, his very worldview was being called into question and he needed solid ground stand on. He went over the event from the park over and over again. That man was not there to begin with, he wasn’t, he was sure. But to explain his sudden appearance and disappearance was more difficult and the fact he calls himself a magician was doing little to help.

“Excuse me?” Milo ripped back to reality, looked up to see a tall blonde woman who was at least 10 years his senior and dressed in slacks and a button down. “May I sit with you?” Her voice sounded airy and correct as if correct could be an accent itself.

“Yea, by all means,” he said before taking the first sip of his drink, he noticed the ice had already begun to melt, he must have been lost in his thoughts longer than he thought. “Umm.. if I may, who are you?”

“My name is Niesha Banks, but if you would, Miss Banks.” she replied sliding into the booth opposite Milo. After a pause Miss Banks spoke,”you looked troubled.”

“So obvious?” Milo said sarcastically before sipping his slightly watered down drink.”I feel my sanity wandering today. That's why I’m here, reaffirming reality.”

“Looks to me you are hiding in a drink, maybe trying to escape something that could potentially drive anyone looney,” she smiled with a slight tilt of her head,”we all cope differently.”

“Well you're right,” he could feel his face getting red, he slid down in his seat a bit,”everyone copes differently.” Taking another drink he looked at the woman, hoping she might vanish too.

“Well are you not going to ask why I am here?” Miss Banks asked with polite expectancy.

Milo paused, drained his glass and asked,”Miss Banks, what brings you here this evening?”

“To speak with you on behalf of my employer of course,” she said matter of factly, as if he should have guessed already. Milo of course, laughed.

“Your employer?” asked Milo incredulously, he was having a bad day, Miss Banks was not helping. A thought ran across his mind, what if he is utterly delusional and he just hasn’t taken his medication  today? “Who IS your employer if may?”

“Mr. Hawkshaw of course.” learning forward and displaying a similar calling card.”would you like a job Micheal?”

At the sight of the card on the table, the hairs on the back of his head stood on end, perhaps his delusions were in another league entirely. He read about how people with diagnosed schizophrenia could have complicated hallucinations of varying intensity. This revelation nearly pushed him over the edge, like a glass on the verge of falling off the counter.

“Milo , I am no delusion, you are not insane. This is very real and I can prove it,” she said almost like she read his mind,”I am a magic user”

“There’s no such thing,” Milo mustered, almost angry. He stood up and walked out onto the patio and leaned against the railing. And Miss Banks had followed him, leaned against the rail beside him.

“Would you like a smoke?” Miss Banks asked pulling out a silver case from some concealed pocket, and removed a single black cigarette putting it to her lips and handing another to Milo. He could smell the fragrant clove in it, holding it, he acknowledged it was real. Miss Banks snapped her fingers and a small blue fire manifested on the tip of her index. Lighting her smoke, dragging deeply as she did. She then moved her finger to Milo’s cigarette, he could feel the heat, using the flame he dragged on his own smoke igniting it. He could taste the clove on his tongue and on his lips, and accepted what happened and was happening was real. 

“Ok, you have my attention,” he said before dragging deeply on his cigarette, before taking a deep breath. “what do you want with me?”

“I only know that he wants you to work for him,” she said with a sigh, “Mr. Hawkshaw is a recluse, and a successful one at that. Which is why he keeps me in his employ, he does not like to speak to anyone directly. I did not even hear from him about you.”

Confused, Milo asked, “I thought you were here on his behalf? If he didn’t say anything to you who did?”

“That is my magic Divination,” she said, “ a few times per day I may use it to discern specific things, sometimes it is precise, and others vague. I have enforced certain restrictions on it however, allowing me to divine Mr. Hawkshaw’s orders without needing to speak directly to him, even at great distances. Which is why I serve as his secretary.”

“Is that something I may learn?” asked Milo, the concept of magic was not a foreign one, however today was the first day he had seen it. He pressed further, ”or is it something you have to be born with?”

“Nearly everyone who uses magic develops a talent unique to themselves. The rules of magic are strange and enigmatic, some people can change reality with a thought others like myself can tell you a random person's dark secrets. Even the oldest, wisest individuals can come close to comprehending the true nature of magic. And then there are individuals, like yourself, introduced to only the most fundamental aspects.”

“So I may learn to use magic, but not exactly like you?” asked Milo, and stated, “My own talents could lead to something else entirely.”

“If you take the job Mr. Hawkshaw is offering, you can learn.” Miss Banks looked pleased with herself as she discarded her cigarette.

“Ok, I accept”, Milo wanted this, he would not deny it. “When do I start?”

“9 am tomorrow at the used book store on Maine, you will find an office in the back, knock and enter and you might talk with Mr. Hawkshaw himself,” she said stepping away from the rail, “ it was a pleasure meeting you” and she left.

[bangtan-spells]

Yoongi Scenario: Tainted Love - Part 12.

Request: Could you make one with Yoongi being some sort of demon/vampire boss that every one is super scared of but then there is Y/N, Yoongi is in love with her and everyone is always super impressed how Yoongi always surrenders and softens when something is about her? He’s super protective and wants to please her in his own way, thank you for doing this i love you 

Summary: Demons are merciless, demons are ruthless, demons can’t hold nothing dear to them. Yoongi is the leader, the king of the demon world. He is feared as he is respected, no one expected him to bring a human girl as his lover, you. You fell in love and now you are in the midst of adjusting to the demon world, its custums, and its dangers. But everything is worth it if is for him, the demon king that lives between shadows and that would turn hell apart to protect you.

 Demon AU. Featuring all BTS.

Genre: Romance / Drama.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 13 

You weren’t surprised when after appearing you found yourself in the middle of a forest, you didn’t know where you were, the only thing you could assume was that it shouldn’t be too far away since the sensation of dizziness wasn’t as strong and somehow being in a forest seemed logical for some reason, maybe in your head you had formed the idea of witches and warlocks not living in the city. You started walking, following Taehyung and Jungkook who were at the front as they shared few words, Yoongi, Jin and you were a bit behind, walking quietly, so much the only sound you heard were your boots with each step you took as all of them moved with absolute sigil. You were the only girl but suddenly you didn’t feel that graceful.

-They will hear us from miles with me walking like this, sorry- you murmured.

Yoongi shook his head giving you a look that meant that didn’t matter.

-Don’t pay attention to it Y/N- Jin said with ease but as you turned to look at him you saw a bit of tension in him, was he nervous? why would Jin be nervous?

You gave Yoongi a questioning look but he just kept walking without saying anything, or giving anything away with his expression, as usual. Yoongi had a pretty cold face, not very expressive unless he was angry which you could tell when it was too late to not get in his bad side. You were in between both of them not really knowing if you should talk and ask things as you would usually do or if you should keep your mouth shut, judging by their faces you decided for the latter, now that you observed them well they all were tense, even Taehyung and Jungkook walking in the front were pretty alert, they talked but you saw how they were constantly looking around, or how Taehyung graced the grip of one of his swords a bit too often. You looked at Yoongi too who had eyes on the front but you also saw the shadows starting to slid from him, slithering to the ground and you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t aware of them already. You heard a whistle and your heart skipped and your stomach dropped with adrenaline, Taehyung halted in the front whilst Jungkook, Jin and Yoongi closed around you.

There was a moment of all of you looking around and then a figure came into view, jumping from a tree just in front of Taehyung who had his right arm flexed back but without drawing his sword yet. The man looked human, although you doubted he was so as any human would have fainted at the sight of Taehyung and his rabid eyes, this one instead looked at your group like acknowledging who you were, very much calm and tranquil, too much.

-We come for no trouble, just a talk- Taehyung said but his tone didn’t reflect the intention he stated.

The man, who had long white hair although he didn’t look old and half of his face painted in blue frowned notably offended. You wondered if Taehyung was the correct one to make diplomacy at the moment, why wasn’t Jin doing the talking, that would be better.

-I will not talk to you, scum, only to your leader-

Taehyung smirked but didn’t react on the insult. -You see, he doesn’t talk to scum either, take us to your leader-

Yoongi didn’t move of your side which told you this wasn’t the first time they did something like this, you watched attentively the reaction of the man, how he inflated his practically uncovered chest, he wore some sort of white tunic with baggy pants. It made him seem like he belonged to a tribe or a sect, then you remembered Jimin had said they had clans, maybe it was something of this clan

He glared at Taehyung and looked at the rest of you, noticing that Yoongi was said leader, Yoongi remained stony and then the eyes of the white haired warlock focused on you for just a second before turning around, three more jumped off the tree branches to follow him. You were startled but kept your mouth shut to not gasp in surprise, the demons didn’t seem fazed so you guessed they knew they were being followed since far behind. Of course the noise you were making didn’t matter.

You went further in and now you started seeing more things, there was noise coming from afar, the kind of noise people would make, but you stopped before you got to the source of that noise, in front of you there was a stone house, small as it couldn’t have more than two rooms by the initial size. Yoongi had moved to the front now, but even if he had said not to get away from his side you decided to stay behind for the moment, now with Jin and Jungkook who were giving not so friendly stares at the warlocks that were around you.

-She’s human- one of them said in a hushed voice that was a bit too loud. You turned to look at the other three, fairly young although one of them you would say was stepping on the forties, they didn’t have long white hair as each had a shade of brown, but what everyone had on common was the blue paint on the face.

-What are you pretending to do bringing humans here?- the same one asked stepping forward and the long haired warlock lifted his chin to Yoongi like waiting for an answer.

-Now, that’s none of your business, we will advice to not go further with this topic- Jin answered a bit too lightheartedly. -Bring us to your leader that’s all you want to do-

The warlocks had stepped a bit closer, perhaps a bit too much, Yoongi didn’t turn to look but then he didn’t need to as his shadows were dispersed behind.

-I think you want to tell us what are you really up to, demons can’t be here, we are only letting you through as a courtesy- he said sternly. - Even less bring humans in here, if this is some kind of trick or threat of you with another clan we will not take it lightly- You glared, looking at the warlocks defiantly, you were confident you’d be safe although you were also a bit anxious for being questioned, what was the deal with them and humans? Weren’t they neutral? -We would like to examine her-

-What?- you exclaimed not liking the idea of them “examining” you, the word was a bit too clinical but in this context you didn’t know what could mean. 

-You don’t want to do that- Jin continued gesticulating with his hands in a negative motion. -We are here for a talk, that’s it, we are peaceful, we are talking to scum like you and everything, I’m even giving you advice!- he completed with a laugh that the white haired warlock didn’t take nicely.

-Examine her- he stated, you inhaled deeply to not gasp so soundly and moved to be completely covered by Jungkook’s back but as soon as one of the other three had moved there was something flying to his neck. It was only a shadow so the warlocks were confused and the one being attacked started to gasp for air, in the first couple of seconds he was choking and then Yoongi moved his head slightly and the shadow turned sharp, like it was a blade it went through the skin and tissue making the body fall to the ground. The other two were outraged and were murmuring things that you couldn’t understand but guessed couldn’t be good, they closed on you again but this time Yoongi remained at the front.

The long haired warlock was breathing heavily like he didn’t expect this outcome and then there was someone coming out of the little house. This one had white hair as well, but short, he wore the same clothes and looked fairly similar.

-What is this?- he stared at all of you and then at Yoongi. -You- he said like he was seeing the devil in the flesh. -You have just broken our treaty-

Yoongi cocked his head just slightly. -Bruma- he said, maybe it was the name. -I did no such thing, actually this one did- he said pointing at the long haired warlock with his chin and Bruma, who had to be the leader gave a quick stare to the other. -He put mine in danger, I only reacted logically- he shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. -I figured better that one than this one over here- he said now pointing at the long haired one. -I figured you wouldn’t appreciate me killing your blood brother-

-Our manners are always so on point- Jin whispered to you, and you breathed in trying to calm your beating heart as you saw the body and then Yoongi.

Bruma scowled but fulminated his brother with his eyes before looking at the body on the ground and then back at Yoongi.

-We need to examine her, if she’s a device from another clan, if this is a trap…- Bruma gave a look to his brother that made him go quiet.

The warlock looked at you for moment that made you feel uncomfortable, like you were bare and he could see beyond you, like he could sense you wholly and you wished Jungkook’s body would have been able to shield you from that as well.

The warlock leader looked at Yoongi for a moment and then at his brother and shook his head.

-She’s his lover- he said with a tone that told him he should have known better, you didn’t know what gave it away, Yoongi didn’t say anything but his face denoted the truth. Bruma gave you a curious look, but you tried to remain unmoved figuring this wasn’t being examined or else Yoongi wouldn’t have allowed it. You felt he had read you entirely though and you didn’t like it. You wished you were next to Yoongi as you were feeling a bit unsure but you didn’t know if it was ok to go to the front now. Like he was reading your mind he turned his head your way and did a little move that called for you. You went there with a strong yet relaxed pace trying to not look as nervous as you were, though being by Yoongi’s side made you feel better.

The leader nodded which settled it as then you were allowed into the stone house after Bruma gave a few orders, one of the other two warlocks stayed behind while the other followed you inside.

With all of you there it was crowded, you sat on rugs on the ground and around you there were multiple things hanging, from the ceiling and on the walls, you saw stone and teeth chains, dreamcatchers looking amulets of all kinds, and dried animals, which made you cringe a little.

-I have seen your kin around here lately- Bruma said as soon as you were sitting giving a quick look to Taehyung and Jungkook at the back. -What is this about?-

-I wouldn’t like to make an accusation but I’m afraid you are kind of messing with mine- Yoongi said smoothly.

Bruma glared because he was being accused after all. -Get to the point Yoongi, I don’t have time for demons and your treacherous words, or for you coming in here-

-One of your clan set up a distracting amulet in my territory and I can’t have that, I demand him or her for interrogatory-

-I won’t listen such claim, my clan isn’t working against yours-

-But it is- Yoongi looked at you and you gave him the amulet you had brought in your bag. -There you have it, according to my sources this is your doing, you like wild board teeth don’t you-

The warlock looked at Taehyung who gave him a grim smirk. -That doesn’t mean anything, that would be a violation to our pact, I….- Bruma realized what he was saying and was still for a moment just as Taehyung drew his swords and Jungkook got the other two warlocks unmobilized.

Yoongi was still sitting next to you staring at the warlock in the eye. -I’m glad you understand, so, unless you want a slaughter house I propose you give this amulet a serious look-

Bruma took the amulet in his hands and he examined through fully to then nod, he looked at his brother and his comrades still restricted by Jungkook’s shadows.

-Let them free, they don’t have anything to do with this-

Yoongi gave him a curious look. -That I cannot do, this was made by this clan so I’d suggest you doing the explaining before I lose my patience, I don’t have time for this shit, but I’d stay a few minutes back to see you all dead- Yoongi raised his brows like making his point and Bruma scowled giving another look to the other two warlocks before sighing, he looked much more older now and really he didn’t seem that bad, maybe Yoongi knew this and that was why he hadn’t attacked yet. Or maybe he was just waiting the right moment.

-This looks like it was indeed made from one of ours but I’m afraid it is not quite like that- Yoongi waited for him to go on and Jin frowned as he paid attention to what the warlock was saying. -There was… a group, that was from this clan, they abandoned the clan a few months ago, these knots, this kind of rope...I’m almost sure this was their doing, we have no intention to mess with you, as we have a pact, an alliance- he remarked strongly.

-Where is this group? Where did they go?-

-I’m not sure, deserters are not always hunted you see, that was a problematic group so…-

-So you didn’t think in cleaning your own shit?- Taehyung barked from the back making Bruma give him a harsh look.

Yoongi lifted a hand for Taehyung to stay quiet but insisted Bruma to answer the question with a harsher stare. -They were problematic, and we are trying to stay as neutral as we can-

-But you are not being neutral, you attacked us- you said before even thinking if you could opinate or not.

-She’s got a point, if you were aware of it you are accomplices- Jin intervened giving Yoongi a look, by the back Jungkook tightened his hold on the other two warlocks making one of them gasp for air soundly.

-Bruma you are in a very complicated position as I see it now- Yoongi started in that dangerous calm that usually predicted terrible things -As I see it I have to kill you and all your clan for this, can’t have no one crossing me and go on just like that, now can I?- Bruma didn’t say anything to Yoongi’s rhetoric question so he went on. -So, you got to give one piece of information that justify why shouldn’t I kill every single warlock in these woods-

-You can’t do that-

-Oh I can- Yoongi smirked amused. -I have a thing for blood, I won’t mind- the warlock looked at you but this time it was Yoongi raising his shadows in a threat. -I wouldn’t think about that either, you’d just make the blood bath quicken-

He realized he was cornered, he wouldn’t be able to use you as hostage and he wouldn’t get out of this without being useful. You understood a bit why Yoongi preferred you to stay home as this could get ugly pretty fast, but at the same time being here gave you a better perspective how they thought, how they dealt with issues. Usually blood and violence, at the very least threats, a pact didn’t seem such steady thing anymore.

-We found out, a few days ago, that they are working for certain demon- he sighed. -These are your issues we shouldn’t have to mind it or intervene-

-Go on Bruma, don’t mess this up any further, we have a nice pact after all- Yoongi smiled but the other saw the threat in his words.

-They are working for a demon, doing a kind of magic that we don’t condone, I don’t know much about it, and I tell you the truth, I don’t- he went quiet for a moment giving Yoongi and all of you a severe look. -What I do know is that this demon is doing some kind of experiment with very dark high magic, we don’t want to cross him or have anything to do with him-

They were afraid you realized, whoever that was these warlocks were afraid of them which made you have goosebumps, if he could face Yoongi like this, rather calmly, then how bad would it have to be someone who made him turn his face the other way to not cross them.

-Who?- Yoongi asked.

-I do not know his identity, what I do know is that is a male and he….- Bruma hesitated but a moment and you got even more nervous. -He’s a monster, the same kind of the one you have back there- his eyes went to the back of the room directly to Taehyung.

You expected him to react but you didn’t expect him to do it the way he did, one of his swords flew in his hands, the movement was quick directing it towards one of the warlocks restricted who screamed at seeing death before his eyes, you gasped and Yoongi jumped to his feet, but it was Jungkook who got in between Taehyung, his thick lava like shadows were the only thing that prevented Taehyung’s sword to go through his shoulder.

-Get off my away- Taehyung grunted putting much force to the blow making the other warlocks get lose as Jungkook had to focus on not being pierced by the blade.

-Calm the fuck down- Jungkook snarled.

-Enough- Yoongi’s voice resonated making both Taehyung and Jungkook look his way. -Jin- he said making the other demon move to the back of the room where he disarmed Taehyung.

-Are you going to cut me with that?- he asked when Taehyung tried to attack him.

Taehyung groaned again but stayed somewhat calm as he kept himself still with the help of Jungkook’s shadows.

Yoongi pushed you back and you stumbled but got the idea and stepped back to where the others were standing, even the other two warlocks were unmoving, waiting to see what was going to happen next.

-Don’t fuck with me Bruma, don’t fuck with my people- he started his warning as the leader of the warlock clan also stood up. -That one on the back?- he said signaling Taehyng with his head. -Would gut you and make you eat your shit-

Bruma whispered a few words and then he was surrounded by a blue aura. -Don’t threaten me, get out-

-No, I think you don’t understand- Yoongi hissed when the blue light touched him but soon he was surrounded by shadow and he could grab the warlock by his neck. -I’d make it worse- he closed his hand on it and the other two warlocks tried to attack but were stopped by their own leader as he lifted a hand to stop them. -You don’t see the real monster coming until you are up your neck full of shit- he squeezed more and got so close the light blue aura went smaller drowned by the shadows.

-Next time you come at me or at any of mine with some bullshit I’ll throw you to that monster- he said referring to Taehyung. -If you are lucky enough that is, remember this little pact of ours and what it means for you, what yours did was a high crime and is punishable by death, If you don’t hunt them down I’ll take it as your doing- Yoongi let him go and hissed again when the blue light touched him, like he was burned and you flinched a little not liking the sight of him being even slightly hurt.

-Send word when you have a lead- Yoongi said before turning around where you were, he nodded at Jin and then looked at you and put a hand around your shoulders just before looking at Taehyung and if you were not mistaken you saw hurt and pride in both their eyes, it was the first time of you seeing such connection between them, and the pain you had just witnessed made you want to cry.

He was the monster that even other demons despised. He was taboo.

[ghosthunthq]

By Any Other Name (¼)

I didn’t have an assignee this year so this for all of you. It’s themes are more personally motivated for me so I hope it still turns out to be something you all enjoy as well,

By: @tiffotcf

Chapter 1-Moving Day

Mai wasn’t sure what she was doing here.

Well, Madoka had asked her to come help with buying things for Naru and Lin’s new apartment. So, the ‘what’ of her doing here was obvious. But now, standing in front of the stylish modern three story townhome, Mai couldn’t for the life of her remember why she had thought this would be a good idea.

It wasn’t like she didn’t have better things to do with her Saturday, she had homework of course, she could have taken up Michiru’s offer of studying at the park near her place. It wasn’t too far away, maybe she could turn around.

She wasn’t running away. It was just that moving always ended up more difficult than it should be. And this move had so far proved no different.

Since Lin and Naru had spent all their time in Japan living out of hotels, moving meant less packing of boxes and more shopping. Disinterested at best, both Lin and Naru were fine with Madoka sharing this burden and Madoka, upon arrival yesterday morning, had recruited Mai to be her furnishing assistant.

Yesterday evening had the four of them at a furniture shop, picking out necessities for the new home. But what sounded like a simple trip had devolved into an unquestionable disaster.

Chaos had begun with Madoka’s own excited indecision leading them from piece to piece. Naru and Lin quickly lost interest as she pulled them around the store until Lin finally suggested that they split up to divide the work. This was followed by the embarrassment of Madoka sending Mai to help Naru pick a bed. Something that Naru pointed out as ridiculous as he was not a child and could select his own furniture. But, it wasn’t up for discussion and she had sent them off together. Which lead to the assumptive associate whose questions and ‘helpful’ suggestions on selection left no confusion as to the fact that he thought they were together.

Mai wanted to go home and sleep for a thousand years after that night. Never to have to think about Naru’s bedroom furniture or the quality craftsmanship of it again.

But, Mai supposed, if Madoka could fly all the way from England to help them get settled in then she could help too, so here she was.

Walking up the narrow street she took note of the similar structures which were going up in the some of the surrounding lots. Mai tried to imagine what the rent must be like on a place like this so close to Ebisu and then decided not to think about it, lest it make her dizzy.

She knocked, her heart jumping when Naru opened the door a moment later.

What was wrong with her? It was his house of course he would open the door.

But then, maybe, that was the problem. She was at Naru’s house.

“Mai.” Naru said.

Apparently forgetting how to greet others, Mai just stood on the stoop. Her hands clasped tight at her side.

“Mai, you found us!” Madoka said slipping past Naru. “Ready to go?”

“Yes.”

“Noll,” Madoka turned back to the house, “don’t forget the furniture is supposed to come around eleven. And I don’t want to hear that you were reading instead of helping Lin when I get back.”

Naru replied by closing the front door.

Madoka turned to Mai with a shrug and a smile.

“I hope you are excited about kitchenware, because that is going to be the rest of our day,” Madoka said, taking Mai’s hand and whisking her back down the street.

“Sure, sounds fun.”

Shopping without Naru and Lin was, unsurprisingly, much simpler. Madoka still took forever to decide which tableware set pattern she liked best and even interrogated the employee regarding the merits of the different cookware. But there was no disinterested brooding or domestic misunderstandings so Mai considered the day a rousing success in comparison to their previous attempt at home furnishing.

When Madoka had gently bragged of her boyfriend’s culinary skills and her need for quality kitchen products to the checkout attendant Mai finally got the answer to the question she had been too afraid to ask for months now.

“I didn’t realize Lin was interested in cooking.” Mai said as they sat on the train on their way back to the apartment. “Or that you were…together.”

Madoka laughed.

“Oh, you heard that, huh? Don’t mention it to him. OK?”

“Oh, uh, ” Mai was confused, “Are you—?”

“Taking advantage of a mutual attraction? As often as I can, believe you me.” Madoka boasted crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat with a self-satisfied grin.

“Madoka!” Mai’s face went scarlet.

“Oh, I forgot, you are kinda young.” Madoka blanched. “That was probably inappropriate.”

“I’m not that young.” Mai grumbled.

“It’s just the boyfriend thing, he gets all flustered about it. Though, he is really cute when he is flustered.”

Mai waited, unsure as to what she was supposed to say.

“Things aren’t as cut and dry as they could be,” Madoka explained, “I mean we do live thousands of miles apart.”

“Couldn’t you move to Japan?” Mai offered.

“Well, we both have our work.”

“But you can work here, with us. You already have.”

“And I loved it, but my research is really in England. And it’s not just the space. I mean he has a lot of responsibilities, he has to watch over Noll.”

“I can see how that is very taxing.” Mai agreed with a laugh. “But if you were here, couldn’t you help him with everything?”

“Sure, I suppose.”

“I think working with your spouse would be so fun, you get to see them every day.”

Madoka exploded with laughter, eyes from around the car turning in their direction.

“Oh Mai, that is so sweet. But, no. People need their space, believe me. Seeing someone all day at work and then again at home. I will pass. And wait a minute, who said anything about getting married? That’s not going to happen.”

“Oh, come on, you can’t say that.” Mai teased.

“No,” the smile faded from Madoka’s face, “I can.”

“Madoka?” Mai asked, concern replacing her amusement.

Madoka took a deep breath, a smaller version of her smile coming back to her lips.

“But, I like what we have and he sure doesn’t seem to be complaining.” Madoka said with a wink that brought the color back to Mai’s cheeks. “So why don’t we just enjoy what we got, you know?  Life isn’t a set of check boxes waiting to be ticked off. You gotta live it the way that makes you happy. Besides labels are just a sticky mess that can really gum up that whole process.”

“Sure.” Mai said, confused but unwilling to have Madoka think her too young to talk to again.

They sat in silence for a while, then Madoka asked how classes were going and the conversation started back up flowing smoothly for the rest of the ride. They stopped at the convenience store on their way back from station as since the kitchen tools they bought wouldn’t be delivered until tomorrow.

“We’re back, and we brought food.” Madoka announced as she opened the front door.

“Welcome back.” Lin said from the living room.

Mai followed Madoka into the small kitchen to drop of her bags of food.

“Yes! That looks so good!” Madoka said surveying the newly placed furniture . “The sectional is a perfect fit, what did I tell you?  I’m a genius.”

From the kitchen doorway Mai could see Madoka grin up at Lin as she approached him.

“It works well in the space.” He agreed.

Her grin widened, her fingertip resting on his chest.

“And you wanted a sofa and loveseat.” She fake pouted, Lin’s hand came up to wrap around Madoka’s the other lightly grasping her chin.

Mai could feel her ears heating up, maybe she should go?

“I stand corrected.” He replied looking at her, their faces extremely close.

“Not for long,” she teased.

“They make a room for that you know.” Naru said walking into the room reading.

“Oh sweetie, they made all the rooms for that.”

“Gross, and you talk about me needing manners.” He grumbled as he passed them, still reading. “You said something about food?”

“Oh yeah,” Madoka grinned. “I left you something in the kitchen.”

Mai scrambled further back into the kitchen. Her face on fire. It was bad enough she felt like she had just been snooping. Now, Naru was coming.

She needed to hide, maybe she could fit in a cabinet? Or in the pantry?

Mai let out a small scream when she was nearly knocked over from behind.

Catching her balance, Mai turned to see a confused Naru looking at her over the top of his book.

“Mai?”

From the other room, she could head Madoka’s failed attempts at restraining her laughter.

“What are you doing here?” Naru asked.

“Oh, I was just, uh, dropping these off,” she gestured to the bags of food, “but that’s done so I’m gonna go now.”

Mai looked at the floor, hoping to making her glowing face less obvious as she walked from the room.

“Mai, where are you going?” Madoka asked as Mai made her way back to the front door. “I thought you were staying for dinner.”

“I have some studying I have to do,” Mai said, slipping her shoes back on, “I should get going.”

“Oh no, Mai, stay.”

Mai turned back to face them, but she couldn’t think of how to defer.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be tortured by your public displays of debauchery.” Naru said.

“That reminds me,” Madoka said. “What help did you give today while Mai and I were out working hard to get things for your home?”

“I fail to see any correlation between those statements.”

“So, that means you didn’t help.”

Mai found herself distracted by how casually they interacted outside the office. She had never imagined Naru being capable of existing in such a domestic situation.

“I will take your silence as an admission of guilt.” Madoka told him. “Put that tray back where you found it you haven’t earned food.”

Mai gapped as Naru, Naru, rolled his eyes.

“I helped.” he said, an indignant hand on his hip.

Madoka raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“He did.” Lin offered. “He took care of his room—”

“That doesn’t really count—”

“And he organized and set up the whole study.” Lin finished before Madoka could finish her complaint.

Mai was dumbfounded. She wondered if she should be embarrassed again. The whole scene was so personal, so normal. They were like a family and Mai couldn’t stop the small ache of jealously that rippled across her chest.

“Mai, are you sure you can’t stay?” Madoka asked her.

The domestic haze cleared as the group’s attention turned back to her, reminding Mai  why she had been beating a hasty retreat to the front door.

“I should really head home.  Thank you for having me.”

“Well at least take something with you. Noll, would you grab something for Mai?”

“No, that’s—” Mai gave up as Naru had already started back towards the kitchen.

Madoka came over to give Mai a hug goodbye.

“Thank you for all of your help today, Mai. We’ll have to have you over again for a real dinner once everything comes in.”

Naru arrived with one of the plastic bags and held it out.

“Noll, why don’t you walk Mai to the station.”

“Oh no! You don’t—“ Mai sighed as Naru walked past her to the shoe rack.

Why did she even try? No one seemed to win against Madoka. Even Naru seemed resigned to the instructions she gave.

“You don’t have to come,” Mai told him when they were outside and Madoka had shut the door.

“She is watching from the window. Just start walking.”

They headed down the street. Mai could feel the silence trickling between them, it left the hair on her arms raised and she had to clench her fists to keep from scratching at them.

“Your house is nice,” Mai said.

Naru kept walking.

“How does your room look?”

He looked at her from the corner of his eye.

“I didn’t get to see it,” she explained.

“Were you, expecting to?” he asked turning to look at her.

Mai’s eyes went wide, her cheeks burning.

“No!”

“Then, why are you asking?”

“I wasn’t!”

Naru tilted his head questioningly at her then turned back to the space ahead of them.  They passed under the direct glow of a street light and Mai thought she saw a curve on the edge of his lip.

They fell back into the dimness of the space between lights and Mai smiled. She wasn’t sure why, but the more she thought about the smile the wider it got.

Mai could see the station ahead of them now. Her smiled dimmed. Naru was going to go any moment now. She should say something, drag it out. She hadn’t realized how nice it had been walking and now it was almost over.

“I hope you like the dishes we picked.”

“I’m sure they will do.”

Mai had a thought.

“Do you cook too or just Lin?”

“How did you know Lin liked to cook?”

“Madoka told me, well actually she told the salesman that her boyfriend was a good cook. I put the rest of it together myself.”

“I’m sure it was very hard to reason out, they are so subtle.”

“Well not around you apparently.” Mai grumbled. “But I wasn’t sure until she said something.”

Mai looked up at him.

“Naru?”

He looked over at her.

“Why can’t she call him her boyfriend?” The question had been eating at her, but she couldn’t bring it back up to Madoka. Naru was a  long shot at getting additional information, but he was the only other person she could ask.

“They obviously like each other. I mean, she said they… got along really well.”

“Too well.” Naru grimaced.

“Do you think she is ok? That she is happy?”

“Did she say she was happy?”

“Yes,” Mai realized, “at least she did until I mentioned them getting married. I hope I didn’t upset her.”

They reached the station, Mai stepping them to the side. She shifted the plastic bag of food in her hands trying to think of the best way to say goodbye and thank you. Naru was watching the people flow past them, he probably was ready to get back home to his quiet and his books.

“Lin can’t marry her.”

“What?” Mai asked surprised.

“I heard Martin and Luella talk about it once. His family wouldn’t approve.”

“Why?”

Naru looked down at her.

Mai gasped.

“Because she’s Japanese?”

His blank stare confirmed her question.

“But that’s…”

“It’s stupid.”

“Yeah it is,” Mai agreed, fiddling with the bag again. “I guess, it really is complicated.”

“It’s not complicated, it’s tyrannical.”

“But Naru, —“

“Why should it be ok to be told you couldn’t have something you really wanted, not because it would hurt anyone, but simply because someone else didn’t approve of your having it?”

Mai blinked, she had never heard Naru sound so intense, even when he spoke about their work.

“Naru?”

“You have studying to do, you should try to catch the next train. I’ll see you at the office Monday.”  He said taking his leave and weaving his way through the crowd.

Mai watched as he left, following the back of his head until she lost him to the waves of humanity that passed between them. Too late, she realized that she hadn’t said her own farewells.

[jasminegalbraith1991]

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Increase Your Height Socks

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[willofhounds]

Questions of who I was and who I used to be ch4

A/N thanks for your reviews and support.

Fangtasia21: thanks for your review my friend. Yeah three lives one mind. It can't last forever.

Selina's POV

Leaving Dick's apartment was one of the hardest things she had done in a long time. There was something bothering him that he wasn't saying. Half way through her interrogating him he closed himself off. It was eerily similar to how Bruce would close himself off.

Out of all of the Wayne children Dick had always been the most open. She had shown him how to pick lock, pockets, how to spot fake jewels. Selina had been surprised at how well he took to it. If Bruce had not gotten to him first, he would have made a good student.

Finding out one of the leading art thief's was once here student and a vigilante was shocking. When she came to the apartment she found it very bare. There was paintings on the walls but no pictures. Almost as if he was afraid to get attached.

That observation had more correct than she realised. The longer she spent with Dick the more obvious it became. He was well liked by those he considered his colleagues and the owner of the house. Not one of them knew that he was the adopted son of Bruce Wayne. If they did she didn't doubt that word would have reached him.

Selina wasn't stupid. She knew that the family had taken advantage of Dick's kindness. Most of them family didn't realize how every insult meant or not hurt him. How they wore away at his kindness.

Bruce couldn't see what they were doing. His main focus had been the criminals of the city. Then Dick disappeared.

Flashback

Two am and Dick still had not shown up yet. They had the same time for their trainings. In the entire time she had known Dick, he never missed a meeting.

She dialed his number and waited. Almost immediately a voice came over the speaker, "The number you dialed is no longer in service. Please check the number and try again."

She froze. Dick wasn't one to switch numbers without alerting her. The first thing she did was check their drop off points.

From what she could tell Dick had not checked it from the last time she was in town. That was almost three months ago. At first she thought maybe he was just busy. Missing the meeting was not due to being busy. She would have heard from Bruce before then.

She immediately dialed Bruce's number. A familiar voice growled, "What is it, Selina?"

She asked looking out over the city, "Bruce where is Dick? He didn't show up to our usual meeting spot."

She could hear Bruce shuffling on the other end. He inquired worry lacing his tone, "You haven't seen him, either? It's been over four months since anyone has seen him in four months. I just got off the phone with Clark asking about him."

So she wasn't the only one to notice that Dick had disappeared. Where would he go? In their talks he hadn't show any interest in returning to the Circus. In fact he talked about going to college as a regular adult. Nothing was regular in their world though. She knew better than anyone how a past could haunt someone.

When she went to Bruce's later that morning the house was in a panic. Tim was going through the house with Wally. They were searching for anything that would lead them to Dick.

According to Damien, all of Dick's stuff was gone. It had gone to a storage facility. According to the owner he had only seen Dick once. No one had even seen him move his stuff.

Bruce was in a frenzy himself on the computer. Every one of Dick's files had been erased. They would have to search safe houses and hiding spots that they could remember.

The problem was Dick thought like a thief thanks to her training. He would have safe houses everywhere. Most of which he wouldn't tell anyone. It seemed he truly wanted to disappear.

End of flashback

New York was not a place she had expected to find him. Selina was only there to clear her name.

She was startled out of her thoughts when the door to Dick's house opened. Dick came out with a bag slung over his shoulder. He walked with a purpose down the street.

She wouldn't tell Bruce about him. Not yet at least. It went against everything the thieves stood for. Nothing was to stop her from dropping a hint to Cassandra. Out of all the Wayne children she would have the best chance at talking to him.

Neal's POV

With Selina on the prowl he couldn't stay at June's that night. There was too much of a chance that Selina would see something she wasn't meant to see. Scars that had a history. Recognizable signs of gunshot wounds. His body was littered with scars that he couldn't say where they were from.

Neal almost considered going to Peter's. Tensions still hadn't completely faded from the Russians kidnapping Elizabeth. There would still be questions if he went there.

Mozzie was acting stranger than normal. Going to one of his safe houses would mean risking the chance of running into him there.

That left one option. So he grabbed his keys and a bag to put his extra suit in. He didn't bother with a tie or undershirt.

As he left June's he saw Selina standing around a corner. She was either going to follow him or alert Bruce. He would have to be ready to run of she called Bruce.

It would be something to watch for later. At the moment he just wanted some rest.

Neal walked the mile and a half to a familiar set of apartment buildings. A light was on in the third story second room from the right. It seemed his friend was awake. They had always been night owls even back at the agency.

After climbing the stairs and finding the room he knocked. While he had keys to the place it was still common courtesy to knock. There was a grumble behind the door just before it opened.

A familiar dark brown haired man stood just inside the doorframe. He was wearing a white undershirt. It was wrinkled. He was wearing a pair of black pants that were wrinkled as well.

Hazel eyes blinked at him in surprise. He asked, "Bryce what are you doing here?"

Neal flinched at the use of his other name. Instead of answering he asked ducking his head slightly, "Can I come in?"

There was a sigh and the other man shifted so that Neal could walk in. As soon as he crossed the threshold he saw a massive mess. It looked like a book had exploded over the living room. Papers were thrown all about the floor. In the midst of it all was a photograph on a coffee table. That must have been what the other was up to when he arrived.

"You don't usually visit, Bryce," came the soft statement, "In fact since the FBI put you on your leash you have never visited. I've always had to come to you. Or we meet at the boxing gym. So why are you here?"

Neal took a deep breath before meeting his handler's eyes where he leaning against his couch, "Today a woman was accused of stealing a priceless artifact from a museum. Of course White Collar was brought in to investigate. Her name was Selina Kyle, Matt."

Matt, otherwise known as Matthew Keller was well known in the criminal underworld. Most people thought he and Neal Caffery were enemies. It was just in fact a cover.

Matthew had been assigned to him after he ran out of a CIA hospital. Where other agents failed to track him down Matthew succeeded. Rather than drag him back he kept close. He made a name for himself for doing any job at the right price.

Neal had been suspicious of the man and not easily trusting. After everything that he had been through no one could blame him. He had been betrayed by almost everyone.

Slowly Matthew had gone from being a nuisance to Keller, to Matthew, to eventually Matt. He trusted the man.

Matthew folded his arms across his chest as he said, "I thought no one knew you were Neal Caffery. Didn't you leave Richard Grayson behind when you joined the CIA?"

Neal ran a hand through his hair as he said, "I did. What I didn't expect was for one of them to show up here? I can't exactly leave right now. They are still trying to decide if I deserve a commutation."

Matthew said rubbing his eyes, "Its too late to be talking about this now. You can have the couch. Sleep, Bryce."

Neal opened his mouth to argue only for a pillow to hit him in the face. Grabbing he glared at the retreating back of his handler. Sleep did sound good and Matt always did have a comfortable couch.