#What if my answer had been no? what a bizarre question to ask a customer!

[periru3]

I, like Walmart, do not know your name, but years ago I went in to buy some fabric to sew the gloves for the Floor Show costumes in the Rocky Horror shadow cast I was working on at my school and I was like DAMN you know your stuff and you were like "I was Brad back in the day" so whistfully

[luxaofhesperides]

“You know, I never realized how true the ‘eyes are the windows to your soul’ thing was until I saw yours.” + fluff + cafe AU ; requested by @kiv1!

He’s sure Danny didn’t expect to see him every other day after he casually mentioned that he had gotten a part time job at a local cafe. However, as his friend, it is Duke’s moral duty to only get coffee from that shop while Danny is on shift, specifically to annoy him. 

Also, so he can support his friend, but being annoying takes priority.

It’s a routine now, for both of them. Danny clocks in for his shift and an hour later Duke is strolling into the cafe with his eyes locked on Danny’s. The rest of the baristas always shove Danny up to the register when they see Duke, taking over whatever order he was making. Even some of the other regulars turn their attention up to the counter, hoping for another few minutes of entertainment.

Danny sighs as he gets ready to input Duke’s order. It’s never the same one, because Duke would hate to be predictable and make things easier for Danny, but it has the side effect of making him realize that some of the expensive, seasonal drinks are really good. 

It’s a bit hard on his wallet, but it’s a price he’s willing to pay for teasing Danny. 

“Hey,” he greets cheerfully as he leans against the counter, grinning at Danny.

Danny sighs again. “What can I get you today, random customer that keeps bothering me.”

“A latte, but make it sweet somehow. And iced.”

“What size would you like?”

“Let’s go with medium today.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah.” Duke leans closer to Danny, watching as he fights down a smile. “I just gotta say that you got gorgeous eyes. You know, I never realized how true the ‘eyes are the window to your soul thing’ was until I saw yours.”

Danny considers this for a moment, then shakes his head. “It kind of sounds like your trying to steal my soul through my eyes.”

“Why is that what your mind goes to?”

“Well. I watched Coraline last night.”

Duke stares at Danny, taking in the dark circles under his eyes. “...Didn’t you say that movie gave you nightmares as a kid?”

“Yeah! And it turns out, it gives me nightmares even now!”

“And ruined my pick up line,” Duke complains playfully.

“It was too cheesy anyways,” Danny replies, putting Duke’s order into the screen. It prints a moment later, no doubt with some bizarre name since Danny refuses to actually name Duke on his orders, and then recites the price. 

He pays and watches as Danny slaps the order onto a medium sized up, then tosses it over to the barista making the drinks. He’s not actually sure what her name is since she refuses to wear a name tag, but she always gives him a wave and also a rating of how good his pick up lines are.

“Seven out of ten!” she calls out to him today, then gets started on making his drink.

“I don’t see why you don’t flirt with anyone else,” Danny says, “I’m pretty sure my coworkers like your pick up lines even more than they like me.”

“Why would I want to flirt with them? Danny, I’m literally only here to bother you.”

Danny rolls his eyes. “Yeah, trust me, I know. My good looks just keep pulling in business.”

He says it like a joke, but it’s true. Duke has noticed it. Danny’s coworkers have noticed it. His manager noticed it and now has him out on the floor every shift. If they can get him to work on the chalkboard sign outside, or wipe down the two tables out front, then they do it, because Danny is Midwestern to his core and it’s very charming in a place like Gotham. He smiles at people as they walk by, happily answers their questions when they ask him what the cafe serves, recommends food and drinks for them, is generally a bright and nice person to everyone who comes near the cafe. 

His cute looks draw people in, then his personality makes them stay. 

It’s all customer service, of course, because Duke never gets the cute, sunny Danny. He’s left with the sarcastic, rude, and funny Danny that’s been his friend since they met in junior year of high school. 

“Your eyes are really pretty, though,” Duke says, “Very blue. Sometimes green. It’s no wonder people keep falling for you!”

Danny reaches across the counter to shove Duke away, but he’s blushing, so Duke is counting it as a win. “Shut up. Now you’re just lying. My eyes are never green.”

“Yes, they are. Danny, I’ve seen them multiple times. They’re green sometimes.”

“No? My eyes have literally only ever been blue. They’re the bluest blue to ever blue. They don’t just turn green.”

They squint at each other for a long moment, trying to figure out who’s wrong and in what way. Duke’s pretty sure Danny’s wrong, since he can’t exactly see his own eyes, and Duke has spent an embarrassing amount of time just admiring how nice they are in different kinds of light. But also, they are Danny’s eyes, so he should know what color they are.

Then Danny’s coworker is setting down Duke’s drink on the pick up counter, giving Danny an excuse to get back to work.

“One medium oatmeal cookie iced latte for Cornelius Aggravating Douglas.” He holds up the drink and makes very direct eye contact with Duke, holding out the drink towards him.

“Did you really have to make the initials ‘Cad’?”

“Yes.”

“Fair enough,” Duke says, making Danny crack a smile. 

“Are you heading out after this?”

Duke grabs a straw and sticks it into his latte, swirling it around some. “That was the plan, yeah. Got a few library books to pick up. Why?”

“I got approval for a half shift today, so I’m off in like ten minutes, if you wanna wait for me.”

“Hell yeah, dude! I’ll wait outside so I don’t distract you with my flirtatious winks again.”

“Get out of here,” Danny laughs. Duke lifts his drink in a quick toast, then gets out of there. He takes a seat at one of the tables out front, content to just people watch as he slowly sips his latte.  

It’s cloudy out, but not raining, which is always a plus. As much as he’d like to see the sun, these kinds of days aren’t so bad, either. The wind still carries a bit of a chill, but the spring is steadily warming things up. There are tons of people out, a constant rush of movement, but a few do catch sight of him, then look towards the cafe, their steps slowing down as they think. Most keep walking, but Duke does manage to get a few to go in just by taking a long sip of his latte to really enjoy it.

Really, he should be getting compensated for the work he’s doing to draw people in. Danny’s not the only one who can do it. 

Bruce keeps offering him money, so he doesn’t need to get paid, but maybe he can convince the other employees to talk Danny into accepting one of his pick up lines so they can go on a date one of these days. 

It’s become a bit of a joke, but the first time Duke used a cheesy pick up line on Danny, he was being absolutely serious about it. He definitely shouldn’t have used a pick up line he found from a website centered on relationship advice, but he panicked and needed some extra help. 

Instead of smoothly asking Danny out on a date, Duke froze up, blurted out the pick up line, then had to laugh it off with Danny and pretend it was a joke. 

He still wishes he was able to ask Danny out properly before, but he’s also glad that they got to spend more time as friends, getting to know each other. It’s easier to be with him now, no longer so tongue tied and flustered. 

Duke gets to fluster Danny now, which is much better. 

And maybe one day his pick up lines will work! Sooner or later Danny’s going to question why he keeps doing this, and then he’ll connect the dots and understand what Duke feels for him.

As it is, he has yet to connect shit. 

“My eyes are definitely blue,” Danny says as he walks out of the cafe, messenger bag slung over his shoulder. “I checked while I was putting my apron away.”

“You’re still on that?”

“They’re blue.”

Duke gestures for Danny to come closer. He complies and leans down, letting Duke cup his face in his hands. He checks, considers, then checks again, and says, “They are indeed blue.”

“Told you they weren’t green,” Danny says smugly, pulling back. 

“And I said they were green sometimes. Now clearly isn’t one of those times, but they do turn green!”

“I don’t think you should be allowed to say any eye-related pick up lines until you admit that you were wrong and didn’t know my eye color.”

Shaking his head, Duke stands up and pushes in his chair. “Just wait, I’ll catch it sometime and prove it to you.”

“Sure, whatever. Don’t you have library books to get?”

“Yeah, you coming with?”

“Obviously. Why else would I leave my wonderful job where I am left alone to make drinks in peace?” Danny knocks his shoulder against Duke playfully, then reaches over and steals his drink right out of his hand. He takes a sip, makes a pleased hum, and drains half of what was left in the cup. 

“Hey!” Duke moves to take it back, which is naturally the exact moment Danny takes off running, effortlessly dodging everyone else on the sidewalk. He takes off after Danny, using his powers to make sure he can move out of the way of anything or anyone who gets in his path. 

They’re past the block when Danny starts to slow down, taking another sip of Duke’s latte. 

He puts on a final burst of speed and all but tackles Danny into the mouth of an alley, reaching for his cup. “Gotcha!”

“No!” Danny wails dramatically. He takes a step back and Duke watches as his power kicks up again, showing him a vision of Danny stepping on an empty can and falling back. Except he doesn’t really fall back? His foot rolls back on the can for a second, then goes through the can and settles back onto the ground where he catches his balance. Through the entire three second fall, Danny’s eyes are a bright green, brighter than Duke’s ever seen them.

His vision fades away and he moves to catch Danny, taking the chance to watch carefully as Danny’s foot does indeed go through the can. He quickly brings his gaze up to Danny’s eyes, which are green, but not inhumanly bright like they were in his vision.

Is the green not perceptible to normal humans?

He can probably only see it due to his powers. Which means he somewhat inadvertently outed himself as a meta.

Whoops!

Might as well just bite the bullet.

“Hey, do you have powers?” 

Danny chokes, shoving Duke away as he coughs and tries to clear his throat. He looks panicked, wild-eyed, searching for an escape route. “What? No. Why would I have powers? Maybe you have powers, have you ever considered that?”

“I mean. I do have powers. That’s why I’m asking.”

“Hold up. Stop talking. You have powers?”

“And your eyes are green sometimes.”

“That’s. No, they’re not,” Danny lies. It’s a very bad lie, seeing how on edge he is, and as much as Duke hates making Danny feel like that, he did get some bad habits while training with Bruce and this is one of them: the need to keep pushing, chasing after clear answers regardless of what the cost is. 

Duke shrugs, taking a sip of his latte, down to its last few mouthfuls, acting casual. “If you say so. But my powers don’t lie, man. As much as I wish they would, sometimes.”

“...Can we not do this out here?” The defeated tone Danny speaks with makes Duke hate himself. But he needs answers now. He needs to know if Danny is like him, if he’s safe, if he needs help. He needs it more than he needs Danny to like him at all. 

“Sure. I know a few quiet places we can talk.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Danny mutters. “Did my eyes really give it away?”

“Yeah. I mean, to be fair, I also didn’t realize until literally right now, so I don’t think anyone else will figure it out just from staring into your eyes.”

“See, this is what happens when you keep flirting when you don’t mean it. Secrets get pulled out into the open and it’s bad for everyone!”

Duke lightly punches Danny’s arm, trying to lift the mood. “Hey, who said I didn’t mean it?”

“What?”

“Who said I didn’t mean it when I flirt with you?”

Danny blinks at him, confused, then says, “I mean, no one I guess. But it’s pretty obvious?”

“I only flirt with you, you know.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Duke says, trying to ignore how his voice shakes slightly. “There’s another one of my secrets. Can we call it even now?”

“Oh!” The shock of the revelation distracts Danny from his earlier nerves. Which is great, because now Duke is the one who’s nervous. It’s worth it, though, seeing the pretty blush come to bloom on Danny’s cheeks. “So all those pick up lines—”

“Yeah.”

“And the pick up line made you realize my powers!” 

“These pick up lines are doing the most,” Duke agrees. And then he realizes, “Hey, you what this means? I was right! Your eyes are windows to your soul!”

“I’m going to hit you,” Danny says, already winding back for a solid punch. He lets Danny hit him since it’s only fair for the stress he caused; as a meta, Duke knows how important secrecy is, how the difference between life and death can be just how well his powers are hidden. 

“Are we even now?”

Danny considers him for a moment, then sighs. “Yeah, I guess. Let’s be done with this for now, okay? Let’s go to the library.”

He refuses to entertain any conversation about powers or Duke’s feelings for him. It’s nice to spend time with Danny, but by the end, Duke is sure he can feel his heart start to crack in half. A sleepless night awaits him when he gets home, moving past his cousin’s attempts to talk to him in favor of flopping face down onto his bed.

But the next day, Danny grins at him when he walks into the cafe. He doesn’t have a new pick up line, choosing instead to act as calm and casual as possible to give Danny some space.

Also breaking routine, Danny insists on personally making Duke’s drink, writing something onto the cup before he fills it up with a floral tea. 

You’re so fine, you made me forget my pick up line, is scrawled on the side of his cup when he gets it. 

“Enjoy your drink, Cutiepie the Third,” Danny says with a shy smile.

“The Third?” Duke repeats, relief making him feel lighter than air, “Who are the first two?”

“Don’t worry about it, cutie. Get to class!”

Duke lets Danny chase him out, and holds in his laugh when he hears Danny’s coworker screech, “What was that?!”

Yeah, they’ll be fine. In the meantime, Duke needs to see if apology pick up lines are thing. Danny definitely deserves one.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Fem!reader Isekai in Lookism ?

Anon, so sorry I'm answering this exactly 3 months later. You're my last request from May and I was soooo close to deleting it because I have had exactly zero ideas. Then I got partly inspired by @honeyhotteok fic here and now I'm running on less than 3hrs sleep in work and it's your fault. Oh yeah, and I've completely twisted the ask as well. It's not even close. So all that wait was for nothing 🙇🏻‍♀️

Adventures of YOUR part time job in the Lookismverse

G/N. You work the graveyard shift in a convenience store. You meet bizarre characters on different nights. Part 2

There's something wrong with people your age these days.

Everyone seems to be either in a gang or up to some shady shit. Seriously what is going on. Is this all a big joke that only you aren't in on?

Just the other day you swear you saw a group of guys in boiler suits punch through some walls across the street. Like what the fuck? What did the wall ever do to you? And then someone apparently called Tabasco starts chanting something about Burn Knuckles and oh my fucking god it's 11pm please shut up.

Oh course you never said that, you still have some sense of self preservation.

And how does anyone even have the time for all this. Between school and this part time job, you barely have enough hours to sleep.

You miss Daniel, the coworker who you haven't seen for a good year but used to gossip into the early morning with. He always seemed a bit nervous and fidgety when you voiced your concerns and observations, but you just assumed he was a nervous and fidgety kinda guy.

There would have been some fun stories to share. Instead now you work the graveyard shift on your own.

.

.

Case in point, the guy standing in front of you looks like one bad conversation away from a mental breakdown.

And really you're not in the habit of checking out customers but he cuts a striking figure. Every exposed inch of skin besides his face inked, and (you silently ask for his forgiveness for the objectification) the biggest chest you have ever seen. What even is this guy eating? What is this guy injecting? Lifting?

The question is almost out of your mouth but then you see the look in his eyes and slam your lips shut.

Nevermind. You ring his purchases through and tell him to have a good night.

.

.

You're restocking the shelves when you notice a guy with a scar across his lip and nose, dripping blood from god knows where all over your freshly mopped floor.

Which is alarming in itself but come on man. Look at the floors. You're making it so fucking gross.

He notices you watching him, gives you an apologetic look and says he'll take care of it.

He makes a quick call and in comes 26 guys, one after the other and they line up in front of him.

You know it's exactly 26 because you counted all 26. And you've also watched all 26 pairs of dirty shoes trample over your previously nice clean floor.

The blood drippy guy asks politely for the mop and bucket and you think this must be some sort of prank because why the hell is this even necessary. 26 guys to share your one solitary mop and bucket and to clean a goddamn floor that you managed in 10 minutes.

"Get out." He blinks at you, taken aback by your tone. "Or I'm calling the police."

.

.

"You can bring your pups in!" You call out to the emo teen lurking outside.

Health and safety be damned because look how fucking cute these dogs are!

He hesitates but then the rain grows heavier and all three rush in.

You miss the suspicious glance he gives you, too fixated on how adorable the dogs are. You don't even mind their wet fur or muddy paws because look at these little babies!

And huh, this guy must really love them too with his, you squint, God? Dog? hoodie on. D'aww that's so stinking sweet.

.

.

Damnit, you knew these two would be trouble the moment they stepped foot into your store.

The tall blonde just gives off a distinct creepy vibe and the shorter one has his entire eyebrows shaved off.

Shaved. Off.

You couldn't help but stare when you put their purchases through and noticed some regrowth and stubble. Is this a trend you missed out on? Either way you're glad because there's no way you're shaving off your own eyebrows.

They converse in Japanese, not even saying a word to you. No thanks or anything, which is fine you suppose. But then they pay you in fucking yen.

They're out the door by the time you see the cash and fuck. Your boss is going to go apeshit when he finds out.

.

.

"What do you think, sweetheart?"

A new blonde guy addresses you tonight and for crying out loud, you just want a quiet shift.

What do you think of his white suit? With the garish LV logos? That it's tacky as fuck. That anyone with any sort of taste would never ever wear that. You keep your actual thoughts to yourself and instead just say it's fine.

That does nothing to subdue the blonde. He does stop talking to you though, and just mutters bitterly under his breath. You catch the words blind and tasteless.

His partner smirks at your response.

And isn't that a whole other kettle of fish because it's currently 2am and you're indoors and who the hell wears sunglasses right now. You think he's a douche of the highest calibre.

The smirk is wiped from his face when he asks for cigarettes and you ask for ID. He doesn't have it on him.

"No can do. No ID, no sale."

He leans aggressively into your space, and reveals his eyes peering over his sunglasses.

My god, what is up with this duo? One with the tacky suit, and this one with the ugly black contact lenses.

You don't budge and the guy is dragged out by the blonde cackling.

Ugh. That laugh gives you a headache for the rest of your shift.

.

.

You really wish customers would stop involving you in their conversation.

This one, who looks exactly like how you would imagine a SoundCloud rapper that has their mother following them and no one else, asks you to listen to his music.

He insists that he's good as the blonde girl rolls her eyes.

You listen to about 10 seconds and make up your mind.

He's wrong. He's very wrong. You want to suggest he gets checked out at the doctor because clearly his ears aren't working properly.

Instead, you mention you like Duke Pyeon, he's more your taste. Has he heard of him? It's the wrong thing to say though because this guy looks angrier than you've ever seen anyone.

"Don't start Vin, I've seen you listening to his music." The girl scoffs.

'Vin' shouts in indignation and storms off with his friend trailing closely behind.

.

.

"Can I help?" You ask with your customer service voice and customer service smile.

He has been standing in front of the hair dyes for a good ten minutes as his friend looks increasingly bored and you can't blame him.

"No thanks, I'm just browsing," he responds and you tell him you'll be just over there if he needs anything.

You kill some time playing on your phone, look up, and both of them are still in the exact same spot.

The one with the H on his neck looks about ready to tear his hair out.

"Come on bro, just pick one!"

"No Warren, this is important. I need it to suit my new aesthetics."

You shrug and return back to your kitty kat restaurant game.

.

.

"Cool glasses," you tell the guy walking around the store and he looks affronted at first before realising you're being sincere and gives you a small smile instead.

You wonder if you can pull off orange tinted glasses too or whether you'd just look like an idiot. It's probably the latter you decide when you ring up his energy drinks.

"I'm a boxer," he offers, as if you're judging the amount of caffeine he's going to slam down.

"Ok?"

"I need it for my training."

"Sure."

You've seen weirder purchases and weirder combinations. The people coming in looking frantic and buying a single plunger or pack of toilet paper never fails to make you chuckle.

To be honest the amount he's buying is a bit nuts, and you wonder if he's going to drink it all in one go. You probably wouldn't sleep for a year if it was you.

"Enjoy your training," you say, heaving and handing over the bag of 19 cans.

.

.

A mute blonde gestures at you

You try to use some sign language, but he looks at you as if you're crazy. At least you think he does but you can't see his eyes.

Somehow you're able to decipher he's lost his dogs. Four. Golden retrievers. And he asks if you have seen them.

(Huh. Do you have telepathy? Do you have the gift?)

You tell him no and he sprints out.

You spend the rest of your shift trying to move things with your newly discovered psychic powers.

Spoiler: you have zero powers. Zilch.

.

.

You think you might be having a stroke.

Because on what planet did this K-pop idol think the disguise would work. Cap and mask on but tufts of pink hair poking out and dressed completely in white.

It's like he's asking for attention and for people to ooh and aah over who that could be.

As he leaves, you shout that you can't wait for his next album. He turns around in complete shock that you recognised him, as if you solved the world's hardest puzzle.

It's a good job that DG has such a pretty face because what an idiot.

.

.

You hear two voices mention the words Daniel Park and your ears perk up, wondering if it's about your old colleague.

Nah. You're just being silly. It's not an uncommon name at all and too much of a coincidence.

"I haven't seen Daniel in ages! Have you heard from him, Zoe?"

"No," you see her friend shake her head from the corner of your eye.

The brown haired girl tilts her head in thought, "I wonder how Zack is doing too. I haven't seen him in so long."

"Ohhh~ you miss him!"

"O-of course I do! He's a friend!" She blushes bright red and you chuckle to yourself.

'Friend', sure.

For the rest of the shift, you reminisce about how you used to tiptoe around your feelings with your boyfriend, Taehoon, too.

[ddarker-dreams]

Clarity of Heart.

Yan Shenhe x F Reader. Commissioned piece.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships and manipulation. Word count: 3k.

To Shenhe, you’re an enigma.

She tries to unravel you, and with every impatient tug of her fingers, ends up forming a tighter knot. Why she even wants to understand you is a mystery in itself. Hers is a life of quiet solitude — a fact that’s never troubled her before. One must have companionship to understand loneliness in its absence. Her master imparted this wisdom to her, further complicating matters.

She supposes there’s no sense in agonizing over the unknowable. Ruminating on why the sun rises in the east and sets in the west would similarly be a waste of time. What she does understand, what’s so tangible that she can almost grasp it with her hands, is that she likes when you’re present and dislikes when you aren’t.

You’re strange, she thinks, not that she has much of a touchstone to make comparisons.

You make a yearly pilgrimage to Mt. Aocang to train, yet whenever Shenhe happens by, you stop everything to greet her in kind. You offer to share your limited supply of provisions, giving her the bigger piece when she insists on splitting things in half. It simply doesn’t make sense. If someone interrupted her training, she’d find them irritating; if someone asked to share her food, she’d refuse.

Though she never felt the need to track time before — the concept you referred to as a ‘calendar’ is not in her lexicon — she finds herself in an agreeable mood when the leaves show signs of turning. The cooling of scorching air and shortening of days proceeds your arrival. Without realizing it, she’ll frequent the base of the mountain, eyes scanning the treeline for your familiar figure.

There are days she spends just like that. Noting the changing phases of the moon, wondering if you’ll arrive when it's waxing or waning.

Sometimes she guesses correctly, sometimes she does not. It’s of no consequence. When you appear, everything else is condemned to be forgotten in a veil of fog.

Every year, she comes to associate new mysteries with you.

However, there’s something about this one that she urges her to investigate further.

“Why did you not use your Vision?”

You suddenly grow an interest in the contents of her mortar and pestle. The herbs release a faintly bitter aroma, lingering in the air where your voice normally flourishes. She finishes grinding it into a paste while you look everywhere but her eyes. Without asking for your permission, she lathers the ointment onto your now bruised bicep. You fight back a flinch, a fruitless endeavor, for she notices anyway.

“It isn’t—” you inhale sharply when she brushes over a particularly sensitive spot, your face contorting as you continue, “A particularly fitting campfire story.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, well, it’s popular for people to gather around the campfire and exchange stories. Sometimes they’re scary, but it’s all in good fun. The answer to your question… I can’t say this story’s very fun. Hence why I said it’s not fitting.”

As always, you teach her much about the bizarre customs of those who inhabit the world. She glances to the nearby campfire, to you, then back again.

“Shall I put it out, then?”

You smile, lines forming beneath your eyes while you do so. The fire makes her feel warm, but you make her feel hot.

“It’s okay, there’s no need for that. If you really want to know, I’ll tell you. It has to do with these training trips, actually.”

The pause that follows your words urges Shenhe to respond.

“I’d like to know.”

You gaze up at the stars, your eyes reflecting the brilliant expanse. “A few years ago, I’d been working odd jobs to make ends meet. One of these was a waitressing gig at a fine establishment. At that time, I’d only had my Pyro Vision for a few months… maybe less than that. Since I rarely left Liyue, I hadn’t used it much.”

You hug your knees to your chest.

“There was this drunk customer. He’d been acting flirtatious all evening, but I was just trying to do my job. When it was strictly verbal, I could handle it. I’d dealt with his type before. But… eventually, he reached out and… touched me. I honestly don’t remember much of what happened next. It was warm. I smelled something awful, heard a scream that was even worse.”

The red ropes binding Shenhe’s soul grow taut.

“It was… an event. Turns out the man was a rather important merchant. With a wife and a newborn kid, to make matters worse. The flames had scorched the skin on his hand to the point it was unusable. Had it not been for a friend of mine, Yanfei, I could’ve landed in a lot of trouble. She got him to drop the charges. Still, rumors spread, and people believed what they wanted to believe. It was during that time I met Madame Ping. She offered to tutor me — teach me how to use my Vision, rather than be scared of it.”

Your fingers caress the scarlet gemstone. “That’s why I hesitated earlier. I still have lots of room to improve. Coming out here helps me focus better, though. I don’t know how to explain it. When I see those tall mountains that seemingly go on forever, and am able to reach out and touch the clouds… everything feels right.”

“If you like it here so much, then why do you go back?” Shenhe asks. This question feels important to her, somehow. A riddle that must be solved.

“Liyue Harbor is my home,” you reply without missing a beat. “My master helped me think of it like this: for every painful memory, there’s a memory I cherish to match. I have to go back and remind myself of that. Or else the hurt is all I’ll remember.”

Your posture eases after you finish speaking. Shenhe can tell this philosophy is paramount to you — perhaps even similar to the red ropes that keep her grounded. Everyone arrives at a way to continue forward and this is yours. She glances down at your arm, where a Mitachurl had unexpectedly charged forward and slammed into you.

You had the means to dispatch it, and still, you hesitated. She did not. She hoped your explanation would dispel her confusion, but as is typical with you, she’s left feeling further perplexed. If this is a place that does you good, you should stay. Is returning to Liyue Harbor a type of training for you?

“Thank you again for patching me up. And helping me out earlier,” you give your shoulder an experimental roll. “The way you fight with your polearm is almost magical. I don’t know how you can move like that.”

The praise makes her stomach feel strange, yet it’s far from unpleasant. “I’m glad I was nearby.”

She always is when you’re on Mt. Aocang, but she keeps this detail to herself.

“So am I.”

The wind blows softly through your camp, rustling tree branches and encouraging the fire to crackle. Shenhe’s experienced many nights like this. While she could always appreciate the serene atmosphere, having you present makes it different somehow. It goes from being just another pretty place on the mountain to a slice of paradise. You take the ordinary and turn it into something special, something worthwhile.

“[First].”

“Hm?”

“That man… is he currently alive?”

You shake your head. “He isn’t. As it turns out, he was making shady deals with this group called the Fatui. They aren’t people you want to mess with. No one knows the specifics, but his death was unusual. It wouldn’t be a stretch to assume they did away with him after he no longer held any value.”

“That’s certainly a shame.”

You blink. “It is?”

“Yes,” she shifts her empty stare in the Harbor’s direction. “I would’ve liked to end him myself.”

Shenhe might be dense when it comes to most social courtesies, but even she knows this topic is taboo. Her entire life up until this point has consisted of training to subdue her homicidal urges. From this diligence on her master’s behalf, she came to glean that killing is an act that’s generally discouraged.

For this reason, she almost regrets her lack of tact if not for the sole possibility it could drive you away.

That’s why her eyes widen slightly when you press your hand over hers.

“It’s okay. I get it,” your tone makes it sound like it too. “If I’m being entirely honest, I thought about it before. I used to get angry when my master said I shouldn't throw away my future due to the past. In retrospect, I couldn’t be more grateful for her patience. She wasn’t protecting him, she was protecting me.”

The smile that Shenhe finds more dazzling than starlight works its way onto your face.

“Besides… if I had gone down that path, then who knows, maybe I wouldn’t have met you? That alone makes me confident I made the right decision.”

-

As far as you’re concerned, Shenhe is nowhere near as enigmatic as the rumors made her out to be.

She has her quirks, that much is undeniable, yet she’s simple at heart. She doesn’t leave you guessing. Mincing words isn’t her style, although it’s not born from malicious intent. To her, it doesn’t make sense why you’d say one thing while thinking another, an element you find refreshing.

You can only recall a single instance where you felt distance from her, despite being physically close.

That instance would be last night.

Judging by the sun’s position in the sky, it should be around noon. Normally, you would’ve seen Shenhe by this point. She prefers to drop by in the morning and then again at night so you can focus on your training. You suppose this ritual was never set in stone, it isn’t like she has to do it. Still, worry gnaws away at your rationality like vermin.

There’s plenty to do to keep your overactive mind occupied. Today marks the last day of this year’s annual Mt. Aocang trip. You pack your belongings up with care, not wanting to desecrate the land that served as your home for the past few weeks. The adepti are generous enough to grant you usage of what’s essentially their abode. The least you can do is ensure everything is returned to how it was.

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you survey your work. You’re running out of menial tasks to justify prolonging your stay. Deep down, you know you’re waiting to spot those silvery strands of hair. It occurs to you then that you’ve never been the one to seek Shenhe out. Where would you begin to search and find her? Traversing higher up feels like a violation, that’s where Cloud Retainer lives.

It wouldn’t be right to depart for an entire year without bidding Shenhe farewell. This predicament leaves you with a limited set of options. You could wait, hoping that she might happen by, or you could leave a note. The latter has an impersonal air to it which doesn’t sit well with you. Especially when you have the distinct impression something about last night changed the dynamic of your relationship.

You’re about to sigh for the umpteenth time that day when your ears pick up on distant footsteps. Relief washes over you in waves, you practically trip over yourself to approach the source of the sound. You know it must be Shenhe before you see her. No one else comes up here, it’s more trouble than it’s worth.

Shenhe doesn’t acknowledge your enthusiastic wave, opting to inspect where your camp once was instead. It could be your imagination, but you swear she’s frowning.

She speaks up before you have a chance to greet her, an unusual edge in her voice. “You’re leaving?”

“I’m sorry for not mentioning it sooner. I sorta lost track of the days,” you rub the back of your neck. “But yes, I plan on starting the trip back to Liyue Harbor today. I have commitments to attend to. Otherwise, I would love to stay longer.”

You don’t know why you feel compelled to explain yourself. It isn’t as if you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t be, yet for whatever reason, that’s what it feels like. The way she fixates on your packed belongings isn’t lost on you. The intent behind her stare is, though. Your closest guess is mild displeasure.

“Then stay,” Shenhe’s response makes it seem so simple. “I’ll help you unpack.”

Without waiting to hear your answer, she makes for the bag that holds your tent, until you block her path. You were aware she could be stubborn when the situation called for it. However, this doesn’t seem like the time or place to charge ahead without paying you any mind.

“Hey, is everything alright? Did I say something that upset you? If I did, please tell me. I don’t want to part on bad terms.”

“We won’t,” she promises. The reassurance does little to make you feel better. “I’m not upset. In fact, I’m quite pleased. The intricacies of understanding others is an art that’s often lost on me. It wasn’t until our discussion last night that things made themselves clear.”

You shift your weight from foot to foot. “And just what became clear to you, exactly?”

“You don’t want to leave, so you don’t have to.”

Your lips part and then close in rapid succession. Did you accidentally drink liquor instead of water this morning? Why is she talking like this is the most obvious revelation in the world? Pursing your lips, you comb the recesses of your mind for any possible statement or action that’d lead her to this conclusion. Misunderstandings always have a starting point. No matter what angle you scrutinize your last interaction from, you can’t fathom how she came to believe what she currently does.

Then again, her thought process differs drastically from yours. You’ve never needed to try

“I’ve learned that people are needlessly confusing,” she approaches you with slow, languid steps. “They’ll want one thing then convince themselves to pursue another. You say you like it here, then offer an excuse when given the opportunity to stay.”

A kindling of frustration flickers to life inside your chest. “That isn’t— I’m not giving excuses.”

She tilts her head. “Then why would you want to return to a place that unfairly condemned you, when you were guilty of nothing?”

No one has ever put it that way — so blunt, so raw — the words are knives that know the perfect place to cut. You swallow thickly. A lump forms in your constricting throat that you thought you’d moved past. She’s in front of you now, looking down at you through snowy eyelashes. She smells faintly of morning dew and herbs. Even in the midst of this bizarre, almost dreamlike experience, there’s a certain serenity to be found. You’re situated in the eye of the storm.

Lithe limbs bring you into an embrace with the utmost gentleness, she takes care not to apply pressure to your healing arm. She treats you as if you were made of porcelain.

“I’ve been told this act provides comfort,” she runs a hand up and down your back, leaving goosebumps behind in her wake. You shiver. “Do you feel comforted, [First]?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Her grip tightens, causing your breath to hitch. “How about now?”

The genuine nature of her inquiry leaves you at a loss. Had it been coming from anyone else, you might think they were mocking you, but this is Shenhe. Her actions are always in good faith, regardless of the quality of their execution. You don’t reciprocate the hug or make an attempt to push her away. For some reason, the idea of shrugging her off instills guilt in you.

An unwelcome little voice whispers you wouldn’t be able to, even if you tried. Her strength is far superior to yours.

You beg the voice to not say anything else.

Shenhe nuzzles her nose into your hair, seemingly forgetting that you have yet to reply. “If a place is full of bitter memories, it’s better to leave it behind, rather than force it to taste sweet.”

“I won’t know until I try,” is your weak rebuttal. It sounded better in your head.

“If you try, you can get hurt again,” Shenhe’s fingers are impossibly cold against your sweltering skin. “So don’t try. Stay. My master has given permission for you to live here with us.”

She parts from you with some reluctance. You watch silently as she rummages through your equipment, putting everything back where it once was. She must’ve memorized how you preferred to set up camp. There’s concentration on her features, she’s intent on ensuring each item is in its proper place. After a few minutes of standing as still as a statue, you lend her a hand.

Your movements are far more sluggish than usual, it’s like there’s an invisible weight crushing you from above.

You test various arguments on your tongue and find them all unsatisfactory. How can you go about convincing Shenhe when you’re not even convinced yourself? For as long as you can remember, you’ve clung to the possibility of righting the wrong, struggling in swimming upstream against rushing currents. Could she be offering you a hand that’d pull you free from dangerous waters?

Or is she dragging you into another uphill battle under the guise of rescue?

From this position, high up in the sky, it’s easy to forget the complexities that inevitably come with regular life. There are no such difficulties here. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay a while longer. No one here looks down on you, whispers when you enter a room, or avoids you on the street. Underhanded comments never reach your ears. You had forgotten how much each of these unfair transgressions stings.

Shenhe reopened the wound — perhaps she has a better way to close it.

Until then, you’ll learn to endure the hurt all over again.

[queen-of-writing-bad-things]

Henry Danger Reader Insert | Captain Man x Reader: SEASON 1

Episode 17: Caved In

~Junk-N-Stuff~

Schwoz and Gooch were making a beeline for the entrance of Junk-N-Stuff. The sooner they could get out, the fewer questions they would have to answer. However, they couldn't escape the eager confusion of Henry and (y/n).

"Wha--wait! Gooch, Schwoz, don't leave!" Henry called out, as he and (y/n) were carrying boxes from the back of the store.

"We need to cheer Ray up! Oh yeah, just run away!" The young woman yelled at them, but they ignored her and shot straight past Charlotte, who was reporting for work. 

"Oh, come on, guys, you won't even look at us?" Henry shouted at the two fleeing men. He and his female boss angrily put down the boxes of junk as Charlotte came over to them.

"What are Gooch and Schwoz running from?" She asked, (y/n) putting her hands on her hips and sighing.

"Ray. He's in a really crap mood." She told the girl, scrubbing her face with her palm.

"'Cause, it's his super anniversary," Henery explained, Ray's crabby attitude had been rubbing off on him all morning.

"Super..." The dark-haired girl trailed off, needing a few more details to complete her mental picture.

"The anniversary of when he was eight years old, when he got densitised and became indestructible." The boy carried on, helping the woman sort out the various stuff that needed putting on the shelves.

Ooh, fun. We should celebrate." Charlotte smiled, thinking that a party for her boss would be fun. However, (y/n) paled at the idea, remembering how her own attempts at funning up Ray's super anniversary had fallen flat.

"No!" She shot down the notion.

"I mean 'no'." The girl quickly changed her answer, seeing how the woman freaked out at the word 'celebrating'. 

"But, why not?" Charlotte was too curious to just leave it there.

"Ray hates his super anniversary," Henry said for (y/n), whose face was lacking her usual smile.

"Why?" The girl asked again.

"Because when Ray's dad realised he was indestructible, he took him out of school and started training him to, y'know, kick-ass and fight crime." (y/n) told her, Charlotte looking through her junk box and picking up an orange mask.

"Yeah." The girl said, indicating that she was still listening despite her newfound interest in the bizarre artefact.

"And now he feels like he missed out on all the fun of being a normal kid." Henry finished, a mannequin's head in his hand, which he went to put on sale.

"Aw, that's so sad." Charlotte sympathised with Ray, knowing that being taken from his childhood must have deeply affected the man.

"Yeah, he's never been camping, or been on a rollercoaster. He can't even ride a bike." (y/n) told them sadly, thinking about how misty-eyed Ray got when she spoke about all the awesome things she got up to as a kid and teen.

"Hmm. My uncle Rosco never learned how to ride a bike." The younger girl mentioned her infamous uncle.

"How come?" Her blond friend asked.

"Because when he was a kid, he already weighed 400 pounds. The bikes just couldn't take it." Charlotte told them, her head shaking as (y/n)'s and Henry's faces thought about all the squashed bikes the man must have destroyed.

"Poor bikes," Henry noted. (y/n) returned to her shelf-stacking, the gentle dingle of the door's bell drawing her attention as someone came in. It was a little girl, around the age of Henry's sister, so she left the boy to deal with her.

"Hey. Need some help?" The teen boy smiled at the girl, putting his excellent customer skills to use.

"I was just wondering if I could try out that piano over there." The small girl asked politely, so Henry and Charlotte looked at (y/n) for permission. She was the nearest source of authority in the shop when Gooch or Ray wasn't around.

"Sure, knock yourself out, sweetie." She said over her shoulder, so the girl skipped over to the instrument and began to play. Her musical talent was clear and a soft melody filled the shop.

"Oh, will you help me organise these bamboo--" Charlotte tried to ask Henry, but Ray came storming out of the back, shouting about the piano playing.

"Hey, hey, hey. What's all the racket out here?" He stomped into the room, his face twisted into a frown. (y/n) gulped; his bad moods tended to send her nervous nature into overdrive.

"Uh, oh it's just a customer checking out the piano," Henry explained calmly, but on that day, the superhero was anything but calm.

"Hey. Hey, you!" Ray yelled at the little girl, making his best friend flinch slightly and slowly turn around from the shelf. She watched as the child stopped her lovely tune and spun around sharply.

"Haven't you learned how to play that crummy song yet?" He snapped, making the girl's face crumple in sadness. She ran out of the store in tears, making the other three in the shop look at Ray in shock and anger.

"Raymond!" (y/n) scolded him, but she could see how he had instantly regretted his words.

"Must you torture the children?" Charlotte asked him frostily. The kids hadn't seen the remorse cross his features.

"Ah, just forget everything." The man shrugged off their comments, feeling too upset to take any criticism.

"Stupid super anniversary. This nob is still loose!" He trudged towards the elevator and put his hand on an ornament on a side table, but to his surprise, it wasn't nailed down and he picked it up as he walked past. He slammed it back down, and marched back down to the Man Cave, muttering furiously as he left.

"Well, I see why Gooch and Schwoz got out of here," Charlotte stated, her eyes wide at Ray's outburst.

"I know, right? (y/n), how come you stay?" Henry questioned, even though he already had an idea why she stayed.

"He's upset. And if I go, he'll be all alone." She said in a small voice. She had contemplated giving him some space in the second year she had worked for him. One morning, she left to go to a friend's apartment in downtown Swellview, but on her return, she found him in a depressed state. Ray had clung to her like never before, realising that he craved her presence like a soothing balm for his wounds.

"You mean, you're the only one he likes to have around?" Charlotte smirked at her, causing the older woman to blush. However, before she could say something back, the door's bell rang again, and this time, the customer was an elderly gentleman.

"Excuse me kids, ma'am, I left eight thousand dollars in a rolled-up newspaper. Have you seen it!?" The old man asked them urgently. (y/n) looked at him with a stunned expression. 

'Who the hell leaves eight thousand dollars lying around?' She wondered.

"No."

"Sorry." Henry and Charlotte said to him, knowing that they'd have definitely remembered picking up eight thousand bucks somewhere in the store.

"Oh no!" The man cried and bumbled back out of the shock. The kids and (y/n) looked at each other with puzzled faces. There was never a normal day at Junk-N-Stuff.

"Can you believe that?" Charlotte exclaimed.

"No," Henry replied, making the older woman next to him nod in agreement.

"I know right, who would be that stupid to leave eight grand in a newspaper?" She giggled, but Henry's face implied that they weren't on the same page.

"No, I mean, who still reads newspapers?" The boy asked rhetorically. (y/n) raised an eyebrow at him, since he had made her feel really old.

"All right, whippersnapper, back to work." She prodded him with a weird old flute, which made the teens laugh at each other and carry on working.

~

~The Man Cave~

Henry and Charlotte had come up with a wonderful idea and using their excellent persuasion skills, they had finally gotten (y/n) on board. They figured that since Ray had missed out on all the fun parts of being a kid, they would cram them all into one exhilarating weekend. Of course, (y/n) had financed it, but the teens had come up with most of it by themselves. The older woman couldn't help but grow teary-eyed at how much effort they had put into setting up the Man Cave, and all they had to do now was get Ray in there.

(y/n) had cunningly sent him out of their hideout to give the kids the opportunity to get everything ready, and even though he threw tantrum at the idea of leaving his cosy headquarters, the old puppy-dog eyes still held their charm. The three of them were now helping their boss into the elevator, a blindfold tied securely around his head.

"What is all this?" Ray asked in an annoyed tone, but (y/n) squeezed his hand and he cheered up slightly.

"Stop being so grumpy." She told him, and she braced herself for the dropdown. Henry and Charlotte screamed until they hit the bottom but quickly got back on their feet so they could help (y/n) guide Ray into the Man Cave.

"Can I take the blindfold off now?" He asked, clutching his best friends hand since he couldn't see anything.

"No," Charlotte told him firmly from his right side. The last thing she wanted was for the surprise to be ruined.

"But I can't see anything," Ray whined, Henry guiding his shoulders into the right place.

"That's the whole point of a blindfold, doofus." (y/n) bantered, letting go of him so the two teens go put them where they wanted. His hand immediately missed her own warm fingers, so it waved around madly, looking to find where she had gone.

"Be careful." The woman warned Henry and Charlotte, thinking about how Ray was putting all his trust into them to shepherd him.

"Don't worry." The young girl reassured her, knowing how protective she got over him.

"We're not going to fall," Henry added too, but they hadn't noticed that in their rush to get ready, they had left a skateboard lying around on the floor. 

"Can't I just--Aah!" Ray screamed as he stepped onto the board, and ended up slipping backwards. He landed on the hard, cold floor with a thump and a groan, making his best friend rush over to him in worry.

"Oh my god, Ray." She helped him up, as Henry and Charlotte were angrily whispering at each other in regards to who was to blame. 

"So this is the surprise? You guys blindfold me and try to kill me?" The man snapped, gradually getting up with the help from the pretty girl beside him. His cross tone made her stomach twist in guilt and reminded her of how a teacher sounds when they're furious with a student.

"Sorry, our bad." The kids apologised, also wearing shamed faces as (y/n) steadied the man.

"I should've helped them, it was my fault." She spoke quietly and patted his arm gently. He sensed her uncertainty and sadness and knew that he had been the one to bring it out, so he took her hand in his again, a silent reminder that he never meant to make her upset.

"All right, Ray," Henry called out to him, signalling to (y/n) that it was her cue to show what they'd put together.

"Whip off that blindfold, (y/n)!" The woman did as she was told, and yanked the red bandanna from his eyes.

"Happy Super Anniversary!!" The three shouted together, watching with happiness as Ray took in everything they had arranged. Only, his face wasn't as happy as they had imagined it would be. They looked at him expectantly but still found no reaction. (y/n)'s nerves were starting to whiz around in her stomach, making her question whether they had done the right thing.

"I don't get it," Ray stated in a dull tone and (y/n) was really glad he was still holding her hand since she was sure it would still be shaking like the other one.

"You are going to have the ultimate kid's weekend of fun." Charlotte filled in the gaps for him, but the superhero still wasn't understanding what they were saying. No one had ever done something for his densitisation day, so this was all pretty new to him.

"What? What are you guys talking about?" The man asked.

"Since you missed out on being a real kid..." Henry started.

"This weekend we're going to do all the fun kid stuff you missed out on." Charlotte finished, her explanation causing Ray to look back and forth between the kids and (y/n) with growing excitement in his eyes.

"What? Really?" He asked incredulously.

"Yeah!" Charlotte smiled at his enthusiasm.

"We've got camping equipment, tickets to Six Poles Over Swellview, this cool new bike." (y/n) pointed out the stuff around the room, and Ray wandered over to the red bicycle in a puzzled, but touched mood.

"Whoa. Hold up. I don't know how to ride a bike." He said to his friends in a sad voice, thinking that he must be the only person in the world who never got to ride a bike as a kid. 

"We know. (y/n) told us." Henry said to him, making her swallow as he studied her nervous behaviour.

"So, we're gonna teach you." Charlotte continued and Ray felt like crying at how much they cared about him.

"Honest?" He grinned, his smile instantly dissolving his friend's worries like usual. His smile was her antidote, and it settled all those anxious butterflies that lived in her tummy.

"Yeah." Henry laughed at his sudden mood changed, glad that the normal Ray was coming back to them.

"Hey, you even got us matching t-shirts!" The smiley man pointed at several colourful shirts hung up on a rack, each one printed with the phrase, 'Ray's weekend of fum!'

Henry showed him a red shirt, and (y/n)'s eyes widened slightly at the typo.

"Fum?" She gave the teens a pointed look, remembering that it was their job to get them.

"Sorry, the t-shirt store messed up," Charlotte said sheepishly, but Ray was too grateful to let a small detail ruin what they'd done for him.

"Oh, okay. But why are there six t-shirts?" He asked, wondering who the extra two people were. There was himself, (y/n), Henry, Charlotte...it couldn't be Gooch or Schwoz since they had scarpered the minute he became moody. 

"Tell Ray who's coming." Henry passed the responsibility of giving him the bad news to Charlotte, who also didn't want to tell him, so (y/n) jumped in for them.

"It's the bucket kid and Henry's little sister, Piper." She looked up at him and cringed a little as his face screwed up in annoyance.

"Aw, no, why?" He asked, the idea of having a day out with the strange kid and bratty child didn't appeal to him.

"Well, Piper sprained her ankle," Henry explained, but it didn't sink in with Ray since he had no ideas about how theme parks work since he had never been to one.

"So?" He looked to his helper for answers, and like usual, she had them.

"She's on crutches, which means when we get to Six Poles, we can jump the queues because we have a crippled person with us." She smirked at him, and he put an arm around her shoulders as they revelled in her deviance. 

"Ah, and why are we bringing your bucket-loving friend with the sweaty hands?" This time, he asked Henry, who rolled his eyes at how charming he was being about Jasper.

"Because that's Jasper's camping stuff," Charlotte answered first, glancing at how the two adults had instinctively drifted towards each other until they were practically joined at the hip.

"And when you get to know him, he's a lot of fum." His jokes made Ray chuckle, which in turn, brightened (y/n)'s mood too.

"Come on, put on your t-shirt and let the fum begin!" She smiled up at him, and he brought her even closer to his chest, whilst also putting a hand on Henry's shoulder.

"You know, you guys are really sweet to do this for me." He said softly. He felt like he had found his own little family amongst them, and it made his heart soar.

"Well, I just paid for the stuff, those two were the masterminds behind it." (y/n) told him, smiling at the kids, who blushed under her proud smile. Ray got the feeling that she was being too modest, so he kissed the top of her head to let her know she was appreciated just as much as Henry and Charlotte. 

"Is it really time to put on my special t-shirt?" He squealed impatiently at the kids, as the woman next to him tried to hide her reaction.

"Sure, get in there." They nodded at him, and he ran to grab a t-shirt and go change. A buzzer sounded throughout the Man Cave as he ran off, making the kids look around in confusion.

"Someone's ringing the bell upstairs," Charlotte commented, recognising the noise.

"I'll check it." (y/n) nodded at her, jogging over to the supercomputer to see who had just walked into Junk-N-Stuff. Pressing the button, the outside camera showed the front door to the store. Jasper was stood looking at the camera happily, as a touchy Piper balanced on her crutches next to him.

"Oh, it's your bucket friend and Piper, I'll let them." She mumbled to Henry, who had walked over with her. She pressed the door release button on the control panel, unlocking the store for the kids. 

Seeing them both enter Junk-N-Stuff, (y/n), Henry and Charlotte turned around to see Ray struggling to fit his red 'weekend of fum!' shirt over his large torso. He tugged the material further down his chest, but it was simply too small and wouldn't stretch. (y/n) gulped at the sight of his chiselled Adonis belt and took a moment to appreciate how all his working out gave him a great body. 'Stop it, filthy girl.' She scolded herself, slapping herself mentally at how she was openly thinking about him like that.

"This one might be Piper's." He said slowly, realising that he'd picked up a child's t-shirt.

"Doofus, this one's yours." (y/n) shook off her aneurysm and threw the man a yellow t-shirt, that she had ordered in a large. That should definitely fit his beefy arms and muscled chest.

"Thanks, helper." He smiled at her sweetly, trying to get on her good side.

"Stop crawling and go change." She rolled her eyes as he gave her a salute and marched off to a back room. 

~Meanwhile, up in Junk-N-Stuff~

Jasper and Piper entered the store and looked around for their fellow teens, or at least the adults who owned the place. However, there was no sign of anyone.

"Move, I'm injured." Piper shoved him out of her way so she could hobble past.

"Pushy," Jasper said back, before taking a look around the wacky junk on sale.

"Hey, Henry, where are ya?" He called out, but he got no answer. 

"Hurry up!" The little girl yelled too, her sore ankle putting her in an even tetchier mood.

"You know, one day I would love to have my own store." The curly-haired boy said from behind the counter, but Piper wasn't one for listening to Jasper's pondering.

"Yawn." She rolled her eyes, thinking that the sooner Henry and his friends came, the better. Jasper looked around the cash register and noticed a series of controls on the side of the counter. 

"Hey, there's a bunch of switches back here. This one says 'Dinosaur flames'." He said to Piper, his curiosity getting the better of him. He flicked the switch and marvelled at how the fire came out of the dinosaur's mouth and smoke came out of its nostrils.

"Yeah, I did that!" He smiled in excitement, even though he knew he shouldn't be messing with stuff like that.

"Yeah, you're a big boy now." Piper mocked him, stumbling over to him a bit on her crutches. 

"Ooh, this one says 'release drum set'. I wonder what that does." Jasper pressed the next button, and this time, a drum kit fell from the ceiling and almost squashed Henry's sister. She quickly dashed out of the way, and narrowly escaped serious injury.

"You almost dropped an entire drum set on my head!" The little girl screamed at the paling boy, who gulped at her anger. 

"Not an entire drum set. I didn't see any cymbals." The teen boy pointed out, but then as soon as he said that, a pair of symbols came crashing down too.

"Weird. This one says 'emergency lockdown'. Hmm." Now, Jasper wasn't the smartest kid in the world, so the term 'emergency' didn't carry much water with him. Piper, however, had a gut feeling that the switch was bad news and quickly stopped him before he could cause another problem.

"Don't flip that lever." She warned him, knowing that something bad would happen if he did.

"Hey, I'm the big boy here," Jasper smirked at her, thinking that he knew best. As soon as he switched the lever, a red, flashing alarm sounded throughout the store, and the door and windows were sealed. 

~Down in the Man Cave~

The same alarm from upstairs rang in the hideout too, shocking everyone inside it, especially Ray and (y/n).

"What's going on?" Henry asked as he and Charlotte covered their ears from the deafening buzzing of the siren. 

"I don't know, but I hope it's not what I think it is!" Ray replied as he and (y/n) ran over to the computer to figure out what was happening. She tapped a few buttons, opening some of the lockdown controls.

~Back upstairs~

"What did you do?!" Piper yelled at Jasper over the alarm, panicking at the situation she found herself in thanks to the idiotic boy.

"I flipped the lever!" He cried, knowing that he had majorly screwed up. 

"Well, I told you not to flip the lever!" The little girl argued.

"I should've listened!" The boy agreed, as he too started to panic.

~Back in the Man Cave~

"Which one is it?" Ray asked his helper, as he tried to turn the red lights and noise off.

"Ahh, there." (y/n) tapped a button and finally gave their ears a break. The teens sighed at the quietness.

"What happened?" Henry asked, having never experienced that before.

"Go see if the elevator works," Ray instructed him, a sinking feeling settling in his abdomen, as (y/n) tried to override the lockdown.

"Come on, you damn thing." She muttered to herself, as Henry and Charlotte ran to the elevator. The girl reached for the button, but when it came into contact with it, she was met with a nasty electric jolt.

"Ow! The button shocked me!" She yelped, standing back from the button and blowing her fingers. 

"Ha, no way." Henry didn't believe her, so he tried the button himself, only to receive the same sting on his fingertips. 

"Ow! The button shocked me!" He whined the same words as Charlotte, so they looked back at Ray for answers.

"Henry, try the big sprocket. Charlotte, go see if the secret door opens." He told them, so they ran to do as he said. However, they all met in the middle, so there was a brief struggle as Ray sprinted to check if the tubes were working. 

Charlotte thumped her hand against the door's buttons, but it wouldn't open, making (y/n) glance at it in worry. Similarly, Henry spammed his remote control at the sprocket to see if he could get it to open, but he had no luck. 

"Ah, it won't go up!" He groaned as Charlotte struggled too. 

"Why won't this door open?" She tried pushing it with her back, but it was locked tight. Ray repeatedly tried his remote on the tubes, but like everything else, they were on lockdown. 

"What? The tube's not working either?" Henry asked, starting to feel worried that they couldn't get out. The woman at the computer kicked the machine she was using and flopped down into the chair with a frustrated groan.

"Nothing's gonna open. We're on emergency lockdown." She grumbled whilst Ray walked away from the tubes.

"What does that mean?" Charlotte questioned, although she had an inkling that it was something very, very bad.

"It's part of our security system," Ray explained, as (y/n) stood up from the computer area and walked over to where they were stood in the middle of the Man Cave.

"If some criminal finds out that Captain Man works down here and tries to force his way in, Gooch can flip a switch upstairs and lock the whole place down." He continued, as the young woman chewed over his words.

"But the only people upstairs right now are Henry's sister and..." (y/n) started, but then the penny dropped for Henry and Charlotte. There was only one kid dumb enough to pull a switch that said 'emergency lockdown'.

"Jasper!" They groaned together, knowing that he couldn't resist touching things that were dangerous or off-limits.

"Oh my god." (y/n) dropped her head against Ray's arm, as she cursed into the yellow fabric of his shirt. Ray rubbed his face with his hand, as Henry pulled out his phone.

"Who are you calling?" Charlotte asked him, as he swiped through his contacts.

"Jasper, to let him know to flip--" Henry tried to say, but an irritated Ray interrupted him.

"Nope." He said in a short, curt voice.

"What?" Henry asked, not understanding why he was so angry.

"Emergency lockdown mode blocks out all transmitters and receivers, including cell phones." He grumbled with a sigh.

"Which means we are totally screwed." (y/n) complained, as she and Ray walked to the headquarters' controls to see if they could get the doors to open. Henry and Charlotte wandered around too, although there wasn't much they could do to help. The blow boy could only imagine what Piper was going through with no signal.

"Can't you cancel the lockdown?" Henry asked them from his place on the stairs, watching as Ray jammed some buttons.

"Argh, no. (y/n/n), any luck?" He called out to the young woman, who was kicking the computer again.

"No, looks like we're stuck here for 48 hours." She said in a tired voice. She felt like she could cry, knowing that everything they had planned was going down the drain.

"That's two days," Charlotte said in disbelief. 

"Wow, I didn't know you were good at math, Charlotte." The woman said sarcastically, even though she didn't mean to bring out her bitterness onto the girl. She stood up and went to one of the camping chairs to sulk.

"Well, I don't get why we can't just--" Henry tried to say, but Ray was too upset at the thought of losing his weekend to answer silly questions. 

"Listen. The lockdown is on a timer. Once you flip that switch, this whole place is like a bank vault. Sealed tight." He said, going to the sad girl on camping chairs.

"Nobody gets in, nobody gets out. And no one can change that." She muttered as Ray flopped down into the blue chair next to her.

"Except for Schwoz, and he's with Gooch in Palm Springs." The large man said bitterly, recalling how his all of friends bailed on him. Well, all of them apart from one sweet girl who always wanted the best for him. 

"So, upstairs, Junk-N-Stuff is on lockdown too?" Henry asked as he started to worry about the two kids up there.

"Yep." (y/n) lifted one of her legs over the arm of her chair and slumped back in an irked tantrum. She folded her arms and let a scowl settle on her face as she thought about everything that was going wrong for them.

"Which means Jasper and Piper and trapped up there together." Charlotte realised, knowing that the two did not get on, even on the best of days.

"Oh my god." Henry's face went pale at the thought of them having to spend two whole days together. Ray shot up from his camping chair and dragged (y/n) from hers to the computer so they could see the cameras were still working. The teens ran over, as the young woman managed to get the link open.

They watched as the little girl chased Jasper around the store with one of her crutches, furious at the mess he had put them in.

"This is your fault!" They heard her shout, as the teen boy ran for his life.

"I didn't know!" He yelled back, but his words didn't calm Piper down, in fact, they seemed to anger her more. 

"You've ruined everything!" She seethed, as the people downstairs watched in horror.

"Yeah, the bucket kid's gonna die." (y/n) said, as Ray looked back at the teens behind them, wondering why they had to bring them into his store.

"There must be something we can do." Charlotte insisted, theorising that Schwoz and Gooch must have installed a fail-safe or something.

"(y/n), you have all the technical knowledge about this place." Ray placed a hand on her shoulder, making her think about what possible use she could be.

"You mean, I know how to clean this place and do your laundry." She sulked, still not happy about what had happened.

"Come on, you know loads about the machines in here, I bet you can do something." Henry encouraged her, which made a smile twinge on her lips. It was nice to know they had faith in her even when she didn't.

"Come on, clever girl," Ray murmured into her ear and maybe it was the need to impress him or the amount of blood rushing to her face, but an idea popped into her head.

"I guess I could try to jump-start a tube." She said in an unsure voice, but her suggestion was good enough for Ray, who pulled her to her feet.

"Great, then what's we'll do." He smiled at her, knowing that she was their only shot at getting out of there early.

"I don't even know if it'll work." She didn't want to get his hopes up, but she'd give it a go for him. She'd do anything for him.

"What do you need?" Charlotte asked, ready to help too.

"Um, jump cables, wire, a shit ton of batteries, and my toolkit." She said, listing all the things she knew were in the Man Cave's main room that she could use. The woman bit her lip as she went to examine the tube's controls, her heart jumping at how complicated they were, but she put on her brave face and got to work.

~

"And just one more battery to connect." (y/n) clipped a cable to one of the power packs they had found. It had been a long process, and she'd received numerous electric zaps from the batteries, but she had finally gotten to a stage where she thought it might work. 

"Okay, the panel's all set," Henry reported to her, as Ray helped her assembled the last circuit. He didn't want her poor fingers to get fried anymore, and she was worth the pain he worked through to connect everything together. 

"Good. Now hopefully these batteries will produce enough power to one tube working so we can get out of here." Ray explained the theory as Henry set the tube up. (y/n) crossed her fingers and toes in preparation for the test.

"Who's going up the tube?" The teen boy asked.

"It has to be Charlotte." The woman answered him, as she and Ray secured a large power cable.

"Why?" Henry questioned, the equations not making sense in his head.

"Because we have next to no power and she's the lightest." (y/n) could've gone into all the sciencey math and physics of the problem, but she didn't have the time.

"Yeah. Chubby." Charlotte joked as she jokingly patted Henry's stomach. The boy lifted his shirt to look at it, thinking that he wasn't chubby in the slightest.

"Okay, Charlotte, get up there." Ray pointed to one of the tube spots as he and his best friend dashed to the controls.

"You don't have to tell me twice." The girl hurried to her position and got ready to take off.

"You better come back for us," Henry told her.

"And bring a pizza," Ray added, feeling pretty hungry after all their work.

"A big pizza." (y/n) agreed with him, but she was still worried it wouldn't work.

"Let's just get me outta here first." Charlotte scolded them.

"Stand by," Ray said, as (y/n) fired up the power and a tube came down very slowly. She gulped at the dim lights that flickered in the Man Cave and she knew that they didn't have much time left.

"Good, now go for it!" She instructed Charlotte, who followed her direction and was gently sucked up by less than half the normal suction.

"Increase suckage!" Henry told the adults as they watched her feet dangle in the tube.

"Increasing suckage!" Ray turned the power up to full, and for a moment, they thought they had done it. Charlotte went up the tube and they all started clapping and laughing from their success.

"It worked, you clever girl!" Ray swept (y/n) into a tight embrace, as she basked in his praise. They let go of each other and Ray and Henry did their handshake.

"Boom!" They said, but at the same, the circuit began to overload and spark, scaring them half to death. (y/n) jumped in front of Henry, not wanting him to get hurt, so Ray stood in front of her too as they all kept screaming. Charlotte fell out of the tube and landed in a heap on the floor. 

"You didn't get the big pizza?" Henry joked sadly, as (y/n) looked down in shame at her failure. Not such a clever girl after all.

"No, I didn't get the big pizza!" The girl snapped back, her legs aching from the fall. She walked over to the computer and opened the camera to see what Jasper and Piper were up to. 

Meanwhile, (y/n) went to sit quietly on the steps near the sprocket, so she could be alone for a while. She sniffed at how she'd let everyone down, especially Ray. The woman glanced over at her best friend and saw him slouched over the tube's makeshift control panel. His face was so glum, it made her chest feel like it had been ripped open. This was meant to be his weekend where he could relive the childhood he never got, but now she was useless to him, and it made her feel even worse.

"We all better get out of here before those two kill each other," Charlotte said, having just watched Piper and Jasper argue about the lack of phone signal and food upstairs.

"They won't kill each other. She'll kill him." Henry corrected her, knowing that his sister was vicious when it came to having no access to the internet. Ray sighed and flicked the dead power lever, as he thought about how crummy this day always was.

"I knew I never should've got excited about my dumb super anniversary." He grumbled, his dejected expression making (y/n) feel even worse as she watched him from the stairs

"Hey. I'm really sorry Jasper got us trapped down here." Charlotte apologised, even though it wasn't her fault.

"And ruined the weekend of fun we had planned for you," Henry added in, as Ray stood up and walked over to them.

"It's not you guys' fault. My super anniversary is cursed." He complained, hating the day even more. 

"Hey. Maybe the weekend's not ruined." Henry piped up, an idea formulating in his mind. (y/n) studied him, seeing how his eyes were bright from whatever he had just thought about.

"What do you mean?" She asked in a quiet voice, reminding everyone of her presence. She knew how to lay low when she wanted to be left alone.

"All the stuff we planned for your super anniversary can still happen right here in the Man Cave." The sidekick exclaimed, but no one was following. 

"No, it can't." Ray protested.

"Hate to break it to you, Hen, but we ain't got no rollercoasters down here. Trust me, I've checked." (y/n) added, her normal optimism struggling to get over her disappointment.

"What are you saying?" Charlotte asked. Even she was confused about what Henry was getting at.

"Words! We got all this cool stuff we brought and there's other junk around here we can use." Henry started to explain, looking around at the bike and the tents with a determined excitement. They were going to have a good time, even if it killed him.

"Kid--" Ray tried to calm him down, not wanting to get all giddy over his 'cursed' anniversary.

"We can still go camping, just indoors. There's even enough room down here to teach Ray how to ride a bike." Henry grinned at them all, and Charlotte got on board with what he was saying.

"His enthusiasm's infectious." She pointed out to Ray.

"What do you say, Ray?" The boy smiled at his boss, who looked at his helper who was too bust fiddling with her sleeve to notice his gaze.

"I say...let's have some fum!" He said, grabbing the t-shirts and waving them in front of the kids. They squealed in excitement, but the woman on the stairs watched on without saying a word. Charlotte noticed her depressed demeanour and pulled Ray to the side as Henry went to change his clothes.

"Talk to (y/n) while we're gone." She hissed into his ear and he knew that she was disappointed in herself.

"Right, yeah. You go get changed, I'll get her smiling again." He nodded at her words, and she left to go to a back room.

Ray made his way over to the stairs and stood at the bottom of them, analysing all of (y/n)'s nervous habits. The way she played with her sleeve or her hair, how she bit her lip or blinked too fast. He picked them up through the years and even though she didn't know it, he could read her like an open book.

"Hey." He greeted her, but she didn't meet his gaze.

"Hi." Her voice was quiet but steady, so he knew she wasn't crying. 'Okay, a good sign.' He thought to himself, but he still needed to choose his words carefully. 

"We're gonna have some fum, me and the kids." He told her, despite the fact she had heard everything they had just been saying.

"I know." Her fingers stilled on the fabric of her sweater.

"Don't you wanna have some fum with us?" He asked tentatively, walking up the steps slowly until he could sit next to her.

"I don't feel like fum." She muttered, glancing at his knee which was grazing hers.

"Why not?" Of course, he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her lips.

"Because I failed, I couldn't get one small child up a stupid tube." (y/n) dug her fingernails into her palm and gritted her teeth.

"I shouldn't even work down here, I'm bringing nothing to the table." Her words set a small sliver of fear into Ray's heart, as the idea of her leaving gnawed away at his mind. It was one of his worst fears, losing her from his superhero life taking a toll on her, or her finding something better for herself out in the world. Sometimes, Ray felt slightly selfish, knowing that kept her cooped up in his base to do the chores that he struggled to keep on top of, but he really did need her.

"You stop me from going insane from living with Schwoz, you keep this place running and clean, you stop me from being a pig-headed doofus." He recited just a handful of some of the roles she fulfilled, and his use of her nickname for him made her chuckle.

"You are a doofus." She gently pushed his head away with a smile, starting to feel like her normal self.

"There's my happy girl. You ready to have some fum?" He asked her, getting up and offering his hand to her. She looked up and grinned, accepting the help up and they walked back down to wear her shirt was.

"Go get dressed and then the fum will begin!" She hurried off to get dressed, leaving Ray to thank whichever God sent his angel to be by his side.

~

"Put your helmet on." (y/n) smiled and handed Ray his bike helmet. They had decided to start. by teaching him how to ride a bike. The man fastened the clip under his chin and put his leg over the seat, feeling a little wobbly.

"Don't let go, don't let go." He stressed to Henry and (y/n), who were holding him stable before he set off. They chuckled at his nervousness; it really was like teaching a child for the first time.

"You're fine," Henry told him.

"We're not gonna let you fall." (y/n) reassured him too, even though she thought that falling off your bike was a fundamental part of learning.

"You're also indestructible." Charlotte pointed out, not understanding why the man was so nervous. It's not like he could scrape his knee or bump his head.

"Well, I don't want to fall." Ray retorted as his knuckles whitened on the handlebars.

"Just look ahead, keep your back straight, your butt rigid, and pump your legs until you get to Charlotte," Henry said, his plan seemed to calm his boss down slightly.

"And don't worry." (y/n) smiled, calming him even more.

"Okay." Ray nodded and began to turn the pedals and gently start moving. He was wobbly, but he started moving and before he knew it, he was halfway there.

"I'm doing it! I'm riding!" He laughed with pure joy, making it over to Charlotte. He was so proud of himself, and his happiness spread to others too.

"Should we tell him about the stabilisers?" Henry whispered in (y/n)'s ear, as they clapped for Ray.

"Nah, just let him enjoy the moment for now." She replied, not wanting to rain on her best friend's parade.

~10 minutes later~

Having been practising with the extra wheels for a few minutes now, (y/n) decided that it was now time for Ray to ride on his own.

"Okay, Ray. No training wheels." Henry said to the man as he unscrewed the wheels.

"Ready?" Charlotte asked him.

"Locked and loaded, baby." The large man replied, ready to get moving again.

"Remember, the faster you go, the more balance you'll have." The woman next to him said, placing her hand on his back so she, Charlotte and Henry could give him some momentum.

"Do it," Ray told them, so they gave him a shove and he started to move. He was wobbling again, but he had managed to stay upright.

"You're doing it, Ray!" The kids encouraged him, loving the way his face lit up.

"I'm doing it! I'm riding on two wheels!" He squealed, but he was so excited about riding properly, he didn't watch where he was going and ended up crashing into the computer. Henry, Charlotte and (y/n) cringed as they watched the bike and rider switch places so Ray was laying on the floor groaning and the bike was on top of him.

"I'm okay." He told them as soon as the pain passed, but somehow, his bike chain caught on fire. 

"How the hell have you managed that?" (y/n) asked, grabbing a fire extinguisher for the flames. Ray moved out of the way as she squirted the gas and smothered the fire. Seeing that the bike was heavy, her best friend helped her move it from the control panel, but as they did, they accidentally opened the camera link to Junk-N-Stuff.

They all watched as Piper cried about her phone signal and Jasper came up with a plan to get them out of there. He theorised that if he played the drums as loud as he could and Piper screamed 'help' to anyone on the street, then they would eventually be rescued.

"Help!"

"We need somebody!"

"Help!" 

"Anybody!"

"Help!" They both cried out, as Ray and (y/n) cringed at the racket.

"That is the worst cover of 'Help' I've ever heard." The man joked and even though the kids didn't get it, the young woman next to him giggled.

"I know right, they're slaughtering The Beatles." She chuckled with him, but Henry and Charlotte were keen to move on to the next activity.

"Ray, come on, we're ready." The boy called to him, so the two adults ducked under the makeshift rollercoaster and went over to them.

"Welcome to...Six Poles Over Swellview!" The kids said together, showing off the mini slide they had created with the junk they found lying around.

"You ready to ride the flume?" Henry smirked at him, as Ray couldn't contain his eagerness.

"Yeah. What's a flume?" The man wanted to know since he had never been on a ride ever.

"Just get in the log," Charlotte told him, knowing that he'd get it once he'd had a go.

"That's a cooler," Ray observed.

"Just pretend it's a log." (y/n) looked at him with demanding eyes, and he complied with what they had said.

"I'll get in the log." He climbed up the stairs and squished himself into the tight cooler. He watched as (y/n) ran to the microphone and Henry and Charlotte got the water and camera ready.

"Now what?" He smiled, eagerly anticipating what they had planned.

"Please keep your hands and feet inside the log at all times. Mantenga los manos y los pies adentro del tronco en todo momento, por favor." The woman announced like a member of staff at a theme park. She even went as far as to dust off her Spanish skills for extra authenticity.

"¡Gracias!" Ray shouted to her, thinking it was hot when she spoke in other languages. 

"Now, pull the pin," Henry instructed him, as he stood behind the camera. Ray did just that, and the cooler began to slowly move down the slide, making Ray cry out in exhilaration. It wasn't the fastest ride in the world, but him, it didn't matter and as he came to the end, Charlotte threw some water at him and Henry took his photo.

"Yes! That was a lot of fum." Ray exclaimed happily, putting his beefy arms in the air. His eyes crinkled with happiness as (y/n) helped him from the 'log'. 

"What's next?" He asked, his childlike personality really coming out to sparkle. 

"We're gonna go camping." (y/n) told him, making him squeeze her into a hug as Henry sneakily took a picture of them. 'Yep, that's a keeper.' The boy thought to himself, as the image captured showed two idiots in love.

~

Charlotte and Henry were setting up the tents and sleeping bags, as (y/n) lit the fire. She had been apprehensive to build one in the Man Cave, but Ray pleaded with her, so how could she say no? She wasn't going to be the one to put a dampener on things. The large man placed four chairs around the fire, as the woman finally got it going.

"Aha, yes! Me cavewoman, me create fire!" (y/n) joked, making Ray laugh. They settled into their chairs, which neither of them noticed to be closer to each other than any of the rest. The teens brought over some marshmallows and sticks and they all huddled in to enjoy their camping moment.

"I didn't know camping involved marshmallows and fire," Ray exclaimed, as his best friend showed him how to rotate the squishy treat until it was perfectly gooey. 

"This is fantastic." He smiled brightly, (y/n) observing how young he looked at that moment. All his worries had left him and seeing him so carefree made her heart soar.

"Yeah. Um, (y/n), are you sure it's cool to have this fire in here?" Henry asked the woman as she took a swig from her beer.

"Oh yeah, but only because I'm an adult and I'm supervising this activity." She said, teasing the man next to her, who looked offended when she didn't mention him as an adult.

"So, you're saying that no kid should ever try this without adult supervision?" Henry asked again.

"Exactly." She replied, knowing that kids shouldn't play with fire.

"So, are you having a good time?" Charlotte questioned, noticing how close the two adults were.

"Because, you know, this isn't exactly the weekend we planned," Henry said.

"We didn't get to do everything perfectly." (y/n) added too, but Ray grabbed her free hand squeezed it.

"Are you three kidding me? This is amazing. You guys taught me how to ride and crash a bike. You showed me what riding a flume is like. We're camping." He told them how thankful he was, enjoying how warm his friend's fingers were from the fire.

"Yeah. And I bet we helped you forget that you never had a normal childhood." Henry said, but his words made (y/n) facepalm.

"He did until you said that." The woman said, turning her marshmallow over the flames. The lights above their heads flickered, making them feel nervous again.

"Uh-oh," Henry said.

"What's with the lights?" Charlotte asked, wondering what could possibly go wrong next.

"The generators must be giving out," Ray replied, letting (y/n) shuffle towards him slightly. A dark Man Cave always freaked her out.

"I think there's a flashlight in the cabinet over there." She said to Henry, hoping that they wouldn't have to sit in darkness.

"I'll check." The boy got up and opened the cupboard. Ray and (y/n) both stuffed their melted marshmallows into their mouths. Henry looked around the dusty cabinet and found a clock on a wire.

"Hey, what's this?" He showed the adults, who looked at it in confusion.

"What you got there?" Ray dropped his stick to the floor.

"Uh, a clock with wires coming out of it." Henry described, as (y/n) walked over to check it out.

"Lemme see that." She took the clock from Henry's hands and studied it.

"There's something written on the back." Charlotte pointed out, so Ray peeped over her shoulder.

"That's Schwoz's handwriting." He instantly recognised the genius' scrawl. (y/n) gulped at how she could feel his body heat jump through his t-shirt onto her back.

"Lockdown timer. Do not touch." The woman deciphered Schwoz's poor calligraphy. Honestly, sometimes he wrote like a drunken crab.

"Timer? You said the lockdown was 48 hours." Henry frowned at the thing in her hands.

"And you said nothing could change that," Charlotte added to his confusion.

"Yeah, but if this clock is the timer for the lockdown..." Ray trailed off, as he and (y/n) shared a brainwave.

"Try turning the hands forward!" Charlotte directed the older woman, who did as she said. She spun the hands around the clock, fast forward the timer by forty-eight hours. A buzzing sounded as the doors unlocked and everything switched back on. They all cried in celebration at the prospect of freedom.

"The elevator works," Henry said, as Ray and (y/n) tried the sprocket.

"So does our sprocket," Ray replied, happy to have access to his bedroom again.

"Bye! Up the tube!" Charlotte waved goodbye to them and got out of there as quickly as she could. 

"Oh my god, Junk-N-Stuff!" (y/n) exclaimed, running over the computer to check the camera. 

"I've never, ever been this hungry," Jasper whined onscreen, as he and Piper had slumped against the counter. 

"Why are they still up there? Can't they leave since the lockdown is over?" Henry asked, worried at how incoherent his best friend and sister were.

"Yeah, but I think they're delirious with hunger," Ray told him, as Piper got desperate.

"Okay, how about this? If you let me eat your thumb, I'll let you eat my thumb." She proposed to the curly-haired boy and the thought of something to eat was too tempting for him to resist.

"Deal." He groaned and they swapped hands.

"Holy shit." (y/n) breathed, worried that the kids were actually gonna start eating each other.

"They're gonna eat each others' thumbs," Henry said to Ray.

"We better get up there." The superhero said, as he and Henry took out their gum tubes and pooped a gumball. 

"Let's blow and go." Henry quipped, and they both transformed into Captain Man and Kid Danger. 

~

Entering from the front of the store, the two superheroes burst into Junk-N-Stuff, preventing Piper from biting through Jasper's food.

"Stop eating that thumb!" Ray shouted at her, and they stood up in a daze. 

"It's Captain Man." Jasper looked at the large man, who was beginning to look fuzzy.

"And Kid Danger." Piper smiled in confusion.

"Yes, we are," Henry replied, but in Jasper's and Piper's minds, they had transformed into a burger and a hot dog. 

"Why...Why are they looking at us like that?" Henry asked Ray, as the boy and girl began to salivate.

"Uh, I don't know." His boss replied, not liking how the kids were smacking their lips together. 

"Why are they coming towards us?" Henry asked, panicking at how Jasper was staring at him. 

"I don't know, but they look hungry!" Ray said and the two of them backed up to the door.

"Wait! Stop!" A melodic voice came from the back, drawing the attention of the four people on the shop floor. (y/n) came running in, an assortment of food from the auto-snacker nestled in her arms. 

"I have pizza!" She said, waving the greasy food under Jasper and Piper's noses. The kids turned away from Captain Man and Kid Danger and began to stalk towards her instead. 

"Food..." Jasper mumbled, his pupils dilating at the smell of pepperoni and mozzarella.

"Yeah, leave the nice superheroes alone, and catch!" The woman threw each kid a slice of pizza and they devoured it within seconds. They looked at her for more, sauce smeared over their lips.

"Knock yourselves out." She put the rest of the pizza on the counter, as well as a load of fries, chocolate, doughnuts, waffles and everything else the snack machine had thrown out in record time. Jasper and Piper jumped on the food pile like zoo animals at feeding time, making the woman stand back. 

"How'd you know we were about to be eaten?" Henry asked her quietly, as they stood back and watched his sister inhale three doughnuts in one minute. 

"You do know there are cameras in here, right? I saw everything." (y/n) smirked, remembering how Swellview's bravest crime fighters were crying like little girls.

"Let me guess, you recorded us being scared?" Ray sighed at her, seeing the mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Of course, it's not every day Captain Man wets his pants due to some children." She laughed to herself and walked back to the elevator so she could watch the clip again. Ray looked at her back until she was gone, making Henry nudge him with his elbow.

"Dude, you're so obvious." The sidekick teased him, making Ray look at him with annoyance.

"I am not!" Ray snapped back, trying to pretend that he wasn't melting from her smile.

"Are too."

"Am not!" 

"Are too!

"Am not!" This went on for a while, as (y/n) watched from the Man Cave, wondering what they were arguing about. She had an uncanny knack for missing things in plain sight.

[silentcartoonist2018]

CU Epilogue AU Chapter 5

Later That Night

*SPLASH!*

Mr. Krupp woke up on the ground on the other side of the street. Once again, his face was soaking wet and it seemed like a nearby puddle had something to do with it. He looked around and saw Edith standing next to him.

“Edith? What just…” Mr. Krupp stammered as he was feeling around his neck and shoulders. “Where-where’s my tie and jacket?

“Right here.” Said Edith as she showed him both articles of clothing “You took them off yourself.”

“I what?” Mr. Krupp got up and brushed himself off and took back his jacket and tie. “I don’t remember doing that.”

“You did, right after you grabbed me and jumped out of the way of a runaway truck.”

“I don’t remember—Runaway truck?” 

Everything came back to him: the dream about the three porta-potties and the red clown, the vision of Edith in distress, the sound of a truck’s horn, and suddenly blacking out. 

“You okay, Principal K?” asked Edith, whose smile started to disappear.

“I-I think so? Are you?”

“Yeah, thanks to you!” Edith’s smile came back and she hugged him. “You saved me, just like on our first date, huh?”

“Just like our first….date…?” Mr. Krupp muttered to himself.

He normally isn’t the curious type. Any time he had a blackout before he just ignored it. But this was the first time he’s seen Edith so ecstatic. Moreover, the idea of him actually doing something while he was almost unconscious raises even more questions that he’d rather not answer. Then again, if it makes Edith so happy, what if it was the key to improving his relationship with her?

Was it time for him to just rip off the band-aid?

“Umm…Edith,” Mr. Krupp said, bracing himself. “How about you tell me about that favorite part of our first date you keep mentioning?”

“Really?” Edith lit up. “Are you sure?”

“Go ahead. I won’t interrupt this time.”

Edith and Mr. Krupp started walking towards the car, which was just around the corner.

…………………………….

It was just about the strangest thing that ever happened.

One moment they were just enjoying a pleasant dinner. The next, they heard a loud scream coming from next to them.

A toilet monster burst out of the bathroom, chasing a man and swallowing him whole before attacking the other customers. 

Frankly, it was bizarre and scary at the same time. 

Just as Principal Krupp was calling for the check, he suddenly started tearing off his clothes and put a tablecloth around his neck.

……………………………

SCREEEEEECCCHHH!!!!

“Whoa!” Exclaimed Edith.

“Sorry! Sorry.” Mr. Krupp apologized, not realizing he reflexively slammed the breaks on his car. “Uh…y-y-you were saying?”

……………………………

Principal Krupp “may or may not” have taken off his clothes in the middle of the restaurant, but he did destroy the toilet monster with his bare hands. The man it ate was just fine.

But there were more toilets outside the restaurant and they were ganging up on a couple of kids outside the window. (Edith couldn’t tell who). So Principal Krupp flew out through the window and not only saved those two kids, but also took on the entire toilet army by himself. 

Edith, meanwhile, was safely escorted out of the restaurant with the rest of the other customers. The police wanted her description of the event that transpired, but she left out the part about Mr. Krupp’s heroic endeavors, thinking it was best kept secret.

They wouldn’t see each other until two hours later when she found Mr. Krupp sitting in a puddle of water near a broken hydrant. He had been in shock and looked like he had been traumatized, so she hugged him until he hugged back.

………………………………

Mr. Krupp pulled up to the front of Edith’s house, his hands still shaking on the steering wheel.

“Thanks for everythin’, Principal Krupp.” Edith said as she exited the car.

“You’re…welcome.” Said Mr. Krupp. “And sorry if I caused you any trouble.”

“Oh, you’ve got nothin’ to apologize for.”

“But…back at the crosswalk, if I hadn’t blacked out….”

“You’ve got nothin’ to worry about. It’s not like you had any control over it.”

“You’re too nice.”

“See ya Monday. Drive home safely.”

“I will….see ya.” Mr. Krupp said, trying to grin.

He waited until she walked up onto her front porch, entered her house, and closed the door. Then he proceeded to step down hard on the gas pedal and zoomed out of the neighborhood.

As soon as Krupp arrived at his home on Curmudgeon Boulevard, he pulled out a chunk of Edith’s cornbread out of the fridge and munched on it aggressively while he started pacing and thinking. Thinking and pacing. Until he bore a hole in the floor. Until his brain was set on fire. He might as well have been on the verge of a full-on panic attack.

This was not the answer he expected.

Stripped down half-naked in the middle of the restaurant?

In front of his girlfriend??

Fighting off an army of talking toilets by himself? 

Without knowing it??

He didn’t want to admit it, but Edith’s story was downright ridiculous!

Being brave was never in his repertoire. All his life, he knew himself to be a complete coward. Especially during those times when monsters used to attack Jerome Horwitz Elementary on an occasional basis. He was so cowardly that he blacked out every single time. Being brave is just not in his nature. He can’t even fake it and be convincing!

But what if Edith’s story was true? It could mean that he was going to do the same thing just earlier that evening. It would add some weight to all those times she told him he was braver than he thought.

Was that what happened during all of his blackouts?

No.

There has to be another explanation.

He does live in a world where aliens and monsters exist. They could be behind it, but he doesn’t want to fall down that rabbit hole.

He could be going insane. Seeing a doctor could be an option, but not on his salary.

Edith could be lying to him…but how could she with that glint in her eyes? She was so excited to talk about it.

Think, Benny, Think! He began snapping his fingers, trying to come up with more excuses.

*SNAP*

But suddenly Mr. Krupp stopped pacing. He stopped pondering. He altogether stopped thinking. After a few minutes of standing around, he looked at his hands as if they were an old, long lost pair of gloves.

Then he smiled a ridiculously optimistic smile.

……………………………………………….

“Oh, COME ON!!!” Cried Krupp, as he banged both of his fists against the EGO door.

He was back there again. Only this time a faint light was strobing on the floor.

“Three for three, eh Benny?” Pipped the clown.

“Ugh,” Krupp groaned and turned towards the clown. “Why do we keep bumping into each other?”

“I’m the only other being living in here rent-free.”

“Apparently,” said Krupp as he turned back to the door and proceeded to pry the EGO door open.

“Y’know, I never got to formally introduce myself.”

“I’d rather it stay that way.”

“What if I told you, knowing about me better is actually the key to you getting out of here?”

Krupp turned back around. “You’re a dream, why should I believe you?”

“Why are you prying at that door?”

“Because you said it’s the exit!”

“See, you remembered from last time! And we’re holding a coherent conversation! No one holds a coherent conversation in a dream.”

“If this isn’t a dream, what exactly is this place anyway?”

“Well I’d call this place in particular the ‘Rest Room’….cuz y’know….you’re surrounded by porta potties, or the ‘Kruppertorium’ even…”

Krupp gave the clown the stink eye.

“…but I guess you can call this place the ‘Mindscape’ being that this place is the inside of your head and everything.”

“Huh…” Krupp looked around “Why’s it an empty wasteland?”

“You tell me.”

Yet another long silence fell between the two. Krupp didn’t have an explanation.

“Think of it this way” said the clown. “You’ve been in here three times and I’m the only other entity in this empty waste of headspace who knows about you, how you got here, and how you get out.”

“What are you, a stalker?” Krupp questioned.

“You do realize that you’ve been trying to pry open an occupied porta-potty this whole time, right?”

Indeed, the EGO door was occupied. Krupp quickly stepped back and raised his hands in the air. “I thought it was out of order earlier?”

“I can explain it after I introduce myself.”

After yet another long silence, Krupp sighed a very, very, VERY, long sigh. “Fine. Guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

“Great! Cuz I’m sick and tired of being labeled ‘the clown’ for the last three chapters! The name’s Wiseguy, clown mascot of Lil’ Wiseguy’s Novelty Company, located in Walla-Walla, Washington.” said Wiseguy, holding out his hand.

Krupp shook his head and crossed his arms. “Nope.”

“Fine. The figure you see before you is the avatar of a complex brainwave signal that’s been carbon copied into your brain ever since you’ve been exposed to my company’s infamous 3D Hypno-Ring.”

Hypno ring…? thought Krupp, raising an eyebrow. 

“You can think of me as a sort of ‘ring spirit’ if you want,” continued Wiseguy. “Usually, I’m dormant most of the time and it’s my job to enforce my ring’s influence on you. But seeing that you’re lucid—meaning that you can see me, hear me, interact with me, and remember your last two visits here while you’re in a dream-like state— that means that something went wrong when you were initially hypnotized.”

“Like what?”

“Well, what do you remember from the first time you saw a hypno-ring?”

Krupp was silent for a while, looking left and right. 

“Ok, you obviously don’t know what a Hypno-Ring looks like. Tell you what, to make it simple, think of the last time you saw a ring.”

Krupp thought harder, and surely enough he noticed a cloud appearing right beside him. 

“Oh no, I’m not gonna pass out again, am I?” Asked Krupp, apprehensively. 

“Not this time.” Wiseguy inspected.

Slowly, a blurry image appeared on the cloud as if something was being projected through it: A hand holding a red ring. 

“That’s a memory!” Exclaimed Wiseguy. “And that’s the Hypno-Ring!”

“My engagement ring??” Cried Krupp.

“WHAT?” Wiseguy suddenly changed his mood. 

The memory vanished abruptly and Krupp was left tapping his fingers together. “Well…substitute engagement ring, actually.”

“Wait, wait, wait, you were going to propose to your girlfriend with a Hypno-Ring??”

“Well, when you put it like that—“

Wiseguy got up into Krupp’s face and the strobing on the floor started to intensify. “You were going to hypnotize your girlfriend into marrying you!?!?”

“H-Hold on! I—“

“Dang I didn’t think you were that shallow! If you actually succeeded, she’d flat out reject you on the spot! Heck, she’d break up with you! The ring has the opposite effect on women! That’s how the company got shut down!!” 

Krupp backed away. “That wasn’t even my intention! I didn’t even know it had hypnotic powers!”

“It literally says ‘Hypno-Ring’ right on the side of it!”

“I-I couldn’t tell! The ring was too scuffed up for me to read anything and it had a huge crack on it!”

“THE RING BROKE??” The clown suddenly popped behind Krupp again, causing him to tumble over. “That explains how you’re lucid, but how on earth did it get broken?”

“It was already broken.” Krupp lied. 

I sat on it by accident! He thought loud enough for Wiseguy to hear. 

Wiseguy clapped both his hands together and inhaled sharply. The light in the background shifted into a faint dark blue. “Ohhhh, boy, this is a significant problem. No good ever comes out of being hypnotized by a broken Hypno-Ring.”

“What happens?”

“Nightmares, delusions, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Schizophrenia…”

“Schizo-what??”

“In other words, you could be given unnecessarily prescribed medication and develop an even more unnecessary dependence to it or get thrown into the Loony Bin until you lose your life savings! Both could happen!”

“I can’t go back to the penitentiary again! How do I fix all of this?

“You gotta fix the ring and get the person who hypnotized you to turn you back to normal.”

“But nobody hypnotized me! I was alone in the room when I was holding the ring!”

“That complicates things a little, but, lucky for you, I still have a solution. You not only need to get that ring fixed, but you also have to get a tape recorder and a self-hypnosis textbook, and hypnotize yourself out of this mess.”

“I gotta go through with that AGAIN??”

“Your sanity depends on it!”

“Why can’t you do it??”

“That’s not how I work! Certain parameters have to be met and even then, I can’t turn you back to normal by myself!”

“Isn’t there another way??”

“No there isn’t! Well…there is one, but it’s only a temporary fix—“

“What is it??”

“It doesn’t fix the core problem! In fact, it may even make the problem even worse!”

“I think I’ll take my chances with the temporary fix. Maybe I can get it under control.”

“Good luck with that.”

“So what’s the fix?”

“Whatever, man, it’s your life. All you got to do is…“

All of a sudden shadows started sweeping across the floor.

“Hold on. What’s with this light that keeps flashing all over the place anyway? It’s distracting!” Complained Krupp.

Wiseguy pointed out towards the horizon. “It’s coming from over there.”

In the area behind the EGO booth, there was the floating screen again, only this time it almost looked as if everything was being viewed through a fun house mirror. 

“What the heck is that thing? Another memory?”

“Nope, it’s what your eyes are seeing at this very moment.” Wiseguy explained.

“A dream?”

“Nope, your immediate surroundings.”

Krupp glared at the screen carefully. “That almost looks like the street I live on.”

The screen was displaying rows of houses and street lights were whizzing by, but everything was moving as if he were riding in a bouncing car.

“Am I moving?”

He then looked at the front of the occupied EGO door again and back at the screen. Cautiously, Mr. Krupp approached the door and raised his fist. 

*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*

He looked back at the screen. The moving stopped. It looked like the scenery panned left and right. 

He knocked again. 

The scenery seemed to pan all the way around. 

“You still have yet to tell me what this EGO door does.” said Krupp.

“That is where your consciousness—your whole body in this realm—goes into when you’re awake.” Wiseguy said.”It basically means that—“

“—that this booth controls my entire body?”

“That’s right.”

Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. “So then if it’s occupied…then that means…someone else is in there??”

“Now you’re getting somewhere!”

Before Krupp could process anything else, he suddenly felt himself getting yanked backwards and whipped around back into the now-open EGO door. Then as if he were being sucked through a pneumatic tube, he was lifted upwards through a large tunnel towards a bright white light. 

But midway into the tunnel, he passed by another figure. He was traveling much too fast to get a good look at it, but all he saw was a long red cloak trailing behind it. 

“Wait! Who are you??” Krupp cried out as he tried to grab onto the cloak, only to narrowly miss it. Before he knew it he was enveloped in a white flash.

“WHO ARE YOU???”

Mr. Krupp awoke with his face wet again…and in a different location. He appeared to have somehow tripped over a pothole and fell into a puddle of water, and it felt like he scraped his knees in the process. But when he looked down to see the damage, he not only noticed that he had various cuts and scrapes all over him, but he was also out in the open in his underwear with a curtain tied around his neck.

“It’s happening again…” he said to himself in horror.

It would be a miserable, five-block walk of shame for him and his curtain didn’t really cover him up enough to protect him from the cold. He was hoping he was lucky enough to not have been seen, though it would have been nice to know how he managed to get so far from his house. 

When Mr, Krupp got home, it looked like a crime scene. 

His front door was locked, the window next to it had been broken, and glass shards were sprayed out in his front yard. Frantically he grabbed a spare key hidden behind one of his various “Do Not Disturb” signs and opened up the front door. His clothes had been thrown all over the front room and in the kitchen it looked like somebody took another serving from the cornbread he’d left out. 

Mr. Krupp grabbed a first-aid kit from under his bathroom sink and pulled out a few bandages. But when he looked at his knees, he realized they weren’t as scraped as he thought. He decided to take care of his cuts, but strangely enough, there weren’t any. It was as if he wasn’t injured at all.

He stared at himself in the mirror. Mr. Krupp realized that he wasn’t just stripped down to his underwear with a curtain around his neck. 

He was dressed as someone. 

Someone incredibly familiar….

…yet incredibly ridiculous.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

Sirens were flashing on Curmudgeon Boulevard.

Neighbors were onlooking from their backyards staring at one house: Mr. Krupp’s.

Mr. Krupp, of course, called the police after getting himself dressed, to report a break-in and a couple of cop cars had arrived. Two officers were investigating inside and out the building and the other two were interviewing the neighbors, much to the neighbors’ dismay. 

“Based on what we found, Mr. Krupp, it looks like somebody broke out.” Said the Sheriff.

“B-But how can that be?” Asked Mr. Krupp.

“See, there’s more glass on the outside than the inside. That indicates that somebody jumped through the window from inside your house.”

One of the officers pulled the Sheriff aside and whispered something to him. Then the Sheriff returned to Krupp.

“Mr. Krupp, we got witnesses saying that they saw someone who vaguely looked like you jump through your front window and proceeded to run westbound down the street.” Said the Sheriff.

“Of course I was seen,” Mr. Krupp grumbled under his breath.

“Do you have anything to say?”

Mr. Krupp hesitated, “M-maybe I was sleepwalking?”

“Uh-huh. And you sleep-walked your way through a broken window, on top of broken glass, and was seen running down the street for five blocks?”

“I’m a heavy sleeper?”

Sure enough, a quartet of officers let Mr. Krupp off with a warning and returned to the station. Everybody else, including Mr. Krupp went back to bed.

The principal lay in bed awake that night deep in thought. He jumped through the window even though he was trapped inside his own mind. Tonight was the beginning of a relapse and it’s worse because he knows it’s happening now. It feels like a ghost possession to him. He can’t control it. It’s terrifying.

Is it going to be this way for the rest of his life?

How will it affect his relationship with Edith? 

That’s right. 

He almost forgot about Edith. 

After what he experienced that night, there was actually some credibility to her story from four years ago. If she knew what happened to him during his blackouts on their first and most recent date, what else does she know?

What are all the repercussions?

He had so many more questions to ask but he didn’t know how to ask them. 

He wants answers but he’s afraid to know them. 

Why it’s happening to him, he doesn’t know yet.

But he knows one thing for certain: all of this is because of that stupid Hypno-Ring. It got him into this mess, so it better get him out.

Simple as that.

Right?

[myherowritings]

PART 2. LOVE IS FAKE, MARRY A WEALTHY SUITOR

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.5k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. thank u guys for all the positive feedback on this series so far and i really hope u enjoy this chapter too ! ^-^ xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

It seemed your subtle pleas to the gods to see the mysterious businessman again had been answered, since only the day after Shouto gave you a $100 tip, you saw him at the cafe. 

You looked to the skies with a hint of suspicion. This seemed too easy— You were expecting at least a few weeks of your heart pining as you wondered where-oh-where your dreamy customer could have gone. But instead, after a mere 24 hours later, you saw him enter the store in a pair of pressed trousers and a light blue, button up shirt that was rolled just below his elbows. 

Blinking, you drew your attention away from his exposed forearms. You knew he was attractive from your first encounter, but was he always this hot? 

Sadly, you couldn’t focus too much on that since he had to get behind the line and obstruct himself from your view, and you had to take the order of the next customer. 

“Hi! I can take the next person in line.” You smiled. “Good morning! What can I get started for you today?”

After repeating that five or so more times and starting a few drinks on hot bar, you finally reached Shouto’s place and, thankfully, there didn’t seem to be too many patrons piling behind him. 

“Good morning, Shouto!” you greeted when he stepped forward to the counter. “How are you this morning?”

“Better now that I saw you.” 

Your smile faltered as your cheeks heated up, but you tried to brush it off with a laugh. While Shouto had the definite looks of a so-called businessman playboy, his words held none of the flirtatious intonation as one might expect. In fact, he sounded like he genuinely meant it— Like he was only stating a simple fact and had no reason to be shameful. 

It felt both like an attack on your heart and like a refreshing glass of water at the same time. 

“How about you?” he continued. 

“I could say the same thing,” you said with a chuckle, but you found yourself meaning everything you told him. Though you didn’t expect to see him again at the cafe so soon, you couldn’t deny the instant he walked through the doors, your morning felt just a little bit brighter. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, but this is a pleasant surprise.” 

Shouto had the decency to look a little bashful as he averted his gaze slightly. “Yeah. I…really liked the...cheese danishes.” 

Surprised, a small giggle left your lips. “Don’t tell me you finished all three dozen of them!”

“Well…” He looked even more sheepish. “I didn’t exactly… I guess you could say that.” 

“I’m glad you liked them so much you came back for more,” you teased, looking down at the pastries from the oven you just stocked. “Sadly, our fresh pastry today is a chocolate croissant. I can tell my manager to have cheese danishes made again soon though!”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll try the chocolate croissants today then. Maybe five dozen this time.” 

Five multiplied by twelve… A whole 60 chocolate croissants? Were they all for him? You shrugged, not one to judge. If someone wanted to eat 60 croissants, so be it. Though you did hope he wouldn’t eat it all in one sitting. That might give him a stomachache. 

“Alrighty, five dozen chocolate croissants,” you repeated as you typed it into the register. “And would you like any beverages with that? Another flat white maybe?” 

“Actually, I’ll have a large macchiato with two extra shots of espresso this time.” 

You nodded with a hum. “Long day ahead?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

“I hope the coffee and croissants can carry you through, Shouto!” you said, wishing his day would go by smoothly. “Will that be all for you today?”

“Thank you, Y/N. I hope so too. And yes, that’s it.”

“Great. $73.24 is your total then! Will you be paying in card again?” 

He nodded. 

“Go ahead and scan and sign when you’re ready.”

You busied yourself by writing his name and order on a large cup and starting the espresso pulls. Your manager was helping get the pastries and other orders ready this morning, so it was nowhere near as hectic as yesterday. 

“Your order will be to your right. It was nice seeing you again, Shouto.” You smiled, giving him a small wave and already wishing you could hold the line up to talk to him longer. “See you tomorrow morning?” you asked almost hesitantly.

He returned your smile with upturned lips of his own. “Yeah. Tomorrow.” Before he left the counter, he pulled out another $100 bill—did he go to a dry cleaners to have his cash steamed and ironed? It was almost ridiculously crisp—and handed it to you. “A tip to show my appreciation for your service.”

“A-Again?” you stammered, eyes wide. That was $200 in two days from just his tip alone. That was more than you made in two weeks when you worked part-time! “Are you sure?”

Whether he had money to spare or not, this was incredibly generous of him and you would never have expected this amount from anyone. And it wasn’t like Shouto made it a scene for everyone in the shop to look at and gawk; he was subtle yet unashamed. Like he wanted to do it for no other reason than to do it. 

“Of course. You deserve it for your work, Y/N.”

The customer behind him made an impatient noise and you winced. You wanted to be able to thank him more, but all you had time for was a simple, “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

Shouto nodded in response before walking to the other side of the cafe to wait for his order while you managed the other customers in line, a fuzzy but warm feeling lingering in your stomach from your bizarre interaction. Money or not, you enjoyed seeing him in the mornings and were already looking forward to your brief conversations that would take place the next days to come.

He certainly gave you something to look forward to amidst the inconsiderate customers who barely saw you as human every morning. Sometimes, that was all you could ask for. 

When Shouto left the store and the line had died down towards the end of rush hour, your manager approached you with a curious look on her face. 

“That guy named Shouto…?” Miyazaki said. 

You nodded. 

“A friend of yours?”

“You could say that… We just met yesterday’s morning shift,” you said as you finished up the green tea latte for one of the remaining stragglers from the last hour’s boom. “But he’s really friendly I think.”

“You only recently became associated?” she asked, lifting a brow. “It seemed like you two were quite chummy today.” Then, nudged your side. “He was rather attractive don’t you think? And rich-looking.”

Fumbling with the lid on the beverage, you stifled a surprised cough. Sure, you got along with your boss and thought she was one of the more understanding and kind individuals you have worked under, but gossiping about the looks and potential income of a customer with your 56-year-old manager was not on your bingo sheet as a worker here.

“I…” You called out the order for the latte before turning back to your manager. “He is.”

“Ooh, he’s rich?”

“I meant he’s attractive!” you sputtered, feeling abashed at her blunt words. You thought of the tip he gave you in your pocket and his orders of dozens of pastries. “Rich…maybe so. Not that it matters!” 

Miyazaki tsked. “Of course it matters! Marry rich and your life will be easier. That’s what my mother told me and what her mother told her.” She shook her head. “Should’ve listened.” 

You laughed, feeling only a little awkward. It wasn’t the first time you heard that sentiment from someone older than you. It wasn’t uncommon for family members or even workers you were close to to share that same advice—if you could even call it that.

While you agreed money could make a lot of things easier, marrying someone for wealth didn’t appeal to you. But you recognized that even that may come from a place of privilege to be able to say. 

“He seems like a wealthy suitor for you, yes?”

“Suitor—?” you choked out. “No! I mean— We just met! We don’t know anything about each other really.”

She sighed, “Young people and their obsession with marrying someone they ‘know’ for true love. When do you really know someone anyway?” Waving a hand she changed the topic. “But enough of that. What I wanted to say was next time that man comes in here, we can offer him a complimentary box of a dozen pastries— Since he’s spent so much in so little it feels like the right thing to do.”

“Sure. A complimentary dozen.” Finally. Work. A topic you felt much more comfortable talking about. “That, I can do.” 

“And then maybe offer a hand in marriage while you’re at it.”

“Mrs. Miyazaki!” you gasped, feeling only mildly affronted. 

“I joke.” She ruffled her hair and smoothed down her apron. “I’m going to make more pastries now. Can you hold up the front?” 

“You can count on me.”

“I know I can. Thanks for your hard work!” 

And with that, she headed to the backroom where the kitchen was to leave you alone with your thoughts in a quiet cafe. Rush hour ended so there were only a few customers trickling in, most much kinder and more pleasant to talk to than the bustling businessmen of the earlier shift. 

Throughout your small conversations with the patrons, you found yourself thinking back to two things— One, how interesting traditional values and teachings in collectivist cultures were and questioning where you fell into place with them, and two…wondering about Shouto. 

Tomorrow, he had said before he left. You’d see him again tomorrow. 

Oddly enough, you were looking forward to it more than you’d like to admit. 

— ✩ —

It was the fifth day of the week, the fifth time he had seen you at the cafe, and he was already tempted to see you again. Would it be invasive to get another pastry after work? Would you even be there working at that hour?

Shouto saw you this morning (along with all the other mornings before that) and yet he couldn’t quell the pull he felt towards you with only the short interaction time you had together. But he would take what he could get without being weird. 

He had been told in the past he could be too forward and dysregulate his feelings and scare people off, and that wasn’t something he wanted to risk with you, though he was certainly much better at it now with learning and practice. If he was reading things correctly, you at least seemed to enjoy seeing him during your shift. 

“You got more pastries, sir?” an employee from the medical supplies sector asked him gleefully. “I swear they get better each time!”

Shouto nodded with a smile. “I’m glad you like it. I’ll be sure to relay your compliment.”

With the dozens of pastries he’s been ordering from your cafe (each order seeming to grow every time he visited after realizing just how much his employees enjoyed it), he would place them around the breakrooms and staff kitchens in the establishment. Those areas were always fully stocked with drinks and sandwiches and chocolates in case anyone needed a little boost, but nothing seemed to bring as much comfort as freshly baked pastries did. And a different baked good almost everyday seemed to give people more to get excited about. 

He owed it all to your sales’ pitch and blinding smile that made him want to buy it. And your personality, of course.

His Personal Secretary had started to wonder why she no longer was tasked with his early morning coffee runs, and Shouto had to find a way to answer without saying it was because there was a barista he wanted to keep talking to. 

Not even he was that shameless. 

The first time, his PS had just called in sick and Shouto decided he might as well head to a cafe himself for the first time in a while. He worried he might have been rusty while ordering, but you did such a good job at being welcoming and guiding the transaction that he found himself actually enjoying it. (Enjoying you, maybe. But it was too soon to admit that.) 

And now, after that initial meeting, he decided it was worth half an hour of his day to give his PS some early morning break time and visit the cafe himself. 

It was worth it so much, in fact, that the next morning on a Saturday, despite most of his employees being given the weekend off, he still went to buy some coffee and pastries. 

“Good morning!” an older lady called as he entered the front doors. Shouto had seen her assisting in shifts and baking pastries when you were busy working the cash register. “What can I get started for you today?”

He looked around the store—relatively quiet compared to the rush hour during the weekdays—and to his disappointment, saw no sight of you. 

The current barista laughed, seeming to read his very thoughts. “Looking for someone? Y/N perhaps?”

His gaze shot up, feeling like a kid getting caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to by his guardian. Cautiously, he gave a small nod. 

“‘Fraid they have the weekends off, actually,” the lady—her name tag read Miyazaki—said. “But don’t look so down, they’ll be back on Monday morning to greet you with a smile.”

He nodded again, feeling his face heat up. Was he that transparent or did Miyazaki just know too much? “Thank you, ma’am.”

She chuckled, waving him over. “No need to be so formal. Now, is there anything I can get for you? Or were you just visiting in hopes of asking our dear Y/N out?”

“No— I…” Shouto felt himself averting his gaze. “I’ll order something.”

At his apparent discomfort, her mischievous gaze softened. “Of course, hon. Sorry for teasing too much. I was just excited seeing how adorable you and Y/N were.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, that’s not my business. Anyway. What can I get started for you?”

He asked for a macchiato and a couple dozen of today’s pastries, paid, and tipped. (Though, it was initially met with a blatant rejection. He didn’t take it too hard; he knew some older members of society thought of tips as insulting and he’d never force anyone to take a tip if it made them feel bad. But after offering again, she thankfully accepted it.)

When he left the cafe, although the exchange was pleasant enough, Shouto still found himself disappointed he wasn’t able to see you. 

At least he had something to look forward to next Monday morning, though part of him wished the day would somehow come sooner. 

a/n: hope u enjoyed miyazaki’s words of wisdom u.u FHKDF i’m totally kidding, but if ur asian like me then u kNOW what convos like that are like omg ,, just had my mom and two grandmas tell me that recently :’/ kskskfd but anyway i hope u enjoyed this chapter and liked seeing a glimpse of shouto’s thoughts ;3 tysm for reading!

what to expect in the next part:

more shouto and y/n :>

maybe some ~flirting~ pfft idk idk u.u

some minor...misunderstandings 

“hello, zuko here” vibes

[baejax-the-great]

Pillow Talk

Late night conversations between two friends who happen to be sleeping together.

Chapter 2 | M | 935 words | Shepard x Garrus

Garrus rested his head in his hand, elbow digging into Shepard’s bizarrely large pillow. “Shepard, our first time together… are you really saying you hadn’t watched any vids beforehand?”

Nadia grinned. “Do I hear you implying that I’m good in bed, Vakarian?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m Garrus Vakarian, and this is the best lay on the Normandy,” he replied in a sing-song voice. She laughed and rolled over onto her side to face him, the sheet falling away to expose her bare chest. “But seriously. Most people, when faced with… unfamiliar, uh—” he gestured uselessly in the air “— equipment… take a little longer to figure out what to do with it.”

“My proficiency scores in tech, firearms, and miscellaneous have always been above satisfactory.” He shouldn’t be surprised. He wasn’t surprised. But Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Why, wondering if I’ve bedded a turian before?”

He hadn’t been, but now he was thinking it. “Uhh…”

“I’ll admit it, sleeping with Nihlus was a surprise.”

Garrus choked. “What?”

Nadia cackled and gave his hip a quick shove. “Relax. I think I said ten words to the guy, and nine of them were hostile.”

For a turian, that did not rule out sexual attraction. Possibly not for Nadia, either. No, definitely not for Nadia. Weird to think that but for a few chance events, he might have been watching Nihlus spend months flirting with her instead of Liara. Might have clued him into a few things a bit earlier. Garrus swallowed.

“You’re my first turian,” she assured him with a kiss to his forehead.

Why did she make it sound like there would be a second?

Not that that should bother Garrus. She could do whatever she wanted. They hadn’t exactly set terms for this, whatever this was. A one-night stand that turned into a week. An ongoing experiment in stress-relief when every day was a firefight. A way better sleeping arrangement than that human bunk on deck three.

Nadia inhaled deeply and held it a moment before carefully saying, “Despite the rumors, I didn’t sleep with anyone on the SR-1.”

“Huh.” Ashley had been certain Shepard was sleeping with Liara. Talked about it at length. A little too invested in it, as far as Garrus could tell, not that he ever discouraged the conversation. Maybe he even analyzed all the so-called evidence she provided, tucked it away somewhere like a little police-case in his head, documenting any suspicious behavior between them. Didn’t tell Ash his findings, but wasn’t disappointed when Tali asked her to elaborate on human mating customs.

“Did you?” she asked.

“What? No.”

“No one you had your eye on?”

“I was too busy staring at Saren’s wanted poster.” Shepard snorted. “Nah. It, uh, didn’t occur to me.”

“You might have been the only one focused on the mission, then. Some of the crew got pretty… forward.”

“Like who?” Garrus asked, as if he hadn’t catalogued every instance of Liara’s hand brushing Shepard’s on Noveria.

“Alenko.” Garrus blanched. “Yeah, I didn’t see that one coming, either,” she continued. “He’s a pretty by-the-book kind of guy, and Alliance regs are clear. You don’t sleep with someone under your command on your ship. Once you hit shore leave, maybe, but you keep it under the radar and hope the brass doesn’t see you. Anyway, I felt bad turning him down. Not because I was interested, but because there must have been feelings involved for him to want to break regs in the first place.”

That would help explain some of what happened on Horizon, Garrus supposed. Though, he couldn’t help but notice Shepard was flagrantly violating regs now and what her own logic had to say about that. He cleared his throat. “Are the Alliance regs for anyone on the ship? Or do hired vigilantes get a pass?”

“I’m not Alliance anymore. If Cerberus has regs—” Nadia shrugged “—Fuck ‘em.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he replied. Though it didn’t answer his question of whether there were feelings here. Treading the waters of interspecies romance was muddy enough, and Garrus wasn’t that great of a swimmer. He might have liked some clarity on the matter. Or a life vest, if he wanted to get his metaphor right.

Unfortunately, Shepard had already moved on. “To get back to the beginning of this conversation,” she said, a finger crawling toward a sensitive divot between plates, “I did watch vids, hours of them. They just weren’t the sexy ones.”

He cleared his throat again watching her little hand work. “What kind of vids?”

“Human versus turian combat, hand-to-hand basics for interstellar marines, non-human pressure points and how to access them…” She stroked the sensitive skin that turians could only ever reach with their talons. Weird to have soft, warm pressure there. Weird and good.

“How did that, uh… how did that help?” he asked.

She leaned up and pressed her lips to the unarmored skin of his neck. “I figured the softest, weakest spots on the body were probably the most sensitive,” she breathed over him.

Shit if she wasn’t right.

“You used the same skills from hand-to-hand combat to sleep with me?”

“I applied tactical knowledge to a novel non-combat situation.” Garrus rolled his eyes, even as he felt his blood pulsing in response to her ministrations. Shepard kissed his neck again. “And I thought you marked me above satisfactory. Maybe even excellent. Best lay in the Normandy?”

He stared her down, a long slow breath through his nose. “I think I’m going to need another assessment of your skills, Commander.”

Nadia grinned. “You’re on.”

[bored-storyteller]

uh I love your storys about Uta ^^. You write him so good and in character . Could you maybe write a story about him were him and the reader ( human) meeting at an auction like reader was captured and meets Uta there . But maybe they escape the auction house and meet Uta sometime after this again. I`m sorry I love Uta angst and fluff .

Dear anon. I'll tell you, your request inspired me a lot (that's why I did it right away), but I must confess that I'm not really satisfied with the result and I'm sorry (I rewrote it three times). I have to thank my poor summary skills for this defeat, I don't think I managed to really give you what you asked me. Feel free to send me clarifications or a further request for me to remedy!

43- Tokyo Ghoul, Uta x human!reader

“The bird of ill omen and the broken toy”

You are in front of his eyes, huddled in a corner of the cold and dark container. On your knees, tied up, you are the condemned to death ready to face the gallows, or rather you are a delicious dish wrapped in its most beautiful dress to entice the spectators.

"Oh, look here ... what a delightful creature."

You are not the main article, you are not the rare object, yet your smell has brought him there. Uta is not a glutton, but he couldn't resist the temptation to peek at whoever was carrying such an inviting fragrance.

"This is really a shame ..." his voice is sweet, calm, yet ironic and cruel. Yes, it's a shame that he has to give you to some miserly ghoul.

Uta doesn’t usually prefer a certain type of food, he is not delicate or picky, nor does he have problems eating even his similar ones. But he has to admit that while those bright eyes of yours, shining with tears and desperation, look at him, he really would like to be able to eat them. Yes, it is rare for someone to stimulate his appetite in this way, customers really have to thank him for his self-control.

You are so small in his shadow, and even if you tremble, even if you smell of fear, he sees no hope in your eyes.

You know you have no escape. As little as you may be when it comes to ghouls, you know you can't save yourself. You heard them talk.

You would rather die now than continue that torture.

He feels it, and oh, how tempted he is to grant your wish.

He leans over you, he wants to see you well, he wants to hear you. The demonic beak of his mask brushes against you, rubs against your temple like the muzzle of a mother cuddling his cub, or the muzzle of a lion that is playing with his prey.

Maybe, if he had met you in another situation ... maybe ...

No. He doesn't necessarily have to devour you. Nothing is ever said with Uta, even he knows it, he knows himself. Who knows what would have happened if you had met somewhere else. Who knows who you were, elsewhere.

In conclusion, you were both unlucky: you cannot survive, and he cannot be the one to eat you. You have something in common.

"Uta!"

Roma's voice makes its way, muffled by the metal container in which you are locked up - like a ready meal -

"I'm coming!" It's time for him to go on stage, for you it's time for the final bow.

He doesn't tell you anything anymore, he doesn't need to. He will say goodbye to you that same evening, but he feels a little happy that you are among the last items to be exhibited.

He still gives you a look, you, little shaking puppet, sweet broken toy. Who can fix you anymore?

After that, he leaves you behind, abandoned in the cold darkness of your last hours in solitude, as he plunges into the cold light of demons, ready to entertain his fellow men with his affable ways. What a crazy world you are both in.

. . .

Locked in your cold prison, if you could you would cover your ears in a desperate attempt to get away from the announcements and screams, but it's impossible for you. So you wait, trembling in your shell of panic, not knowing what to do. If only you had at least a vain hope, a false chance. If only you could save yourself, for some reason, any reason then yeah, oh, how dear life would be to you thereafter. But you can't even think now.

And you don't even realize that the noises change. The cries of the victims become the cries of the executioners, and the applause becomes breathless footsteps in search of a safe place. But you don't know it, or at least not until they get closer, more distressed. They are probably running away. But who can save you? Who knows you are there? Who can remember you?

And in fact, no one stops, no one frees you, and the footsteps and the screams brush against you and pass you, without bothering to kill or save you. At least you think so.

But as soon as the silence comes, the creaking of the doors opening makes you lift your face, towards the light.

He is there again, and you wonder if that Bird of ill Omen is not your hallucination. With that bizarre suit, that hateful mask, and those ancient letters around his neck that seem ready to strangle him.

He doesn't talk to you. He is simply looking at you, you feel him looking at you, behind that deadly beak. In the silence that surrounds you, whether it is a real silence or created by mutual presence, he suddenly occupies your every thought in those few seconds of eternity. Maybe it's the touch of death that wanders your mind, but suddenly unusual questions arise in you. Who knows who he is, what he does. What does he like and what not ... does he live in the alleys of the city, or maybe, instead, without that mask he pretends to be someone?

He came to take you and devour you. But it almost seems like a strange barrier is keeping him away from you.

And while you are suspended in this limbo of cold resignation, as he came he disappears, and with his disappearance he takes away from you that sad calm that had enveloped you.

The panic returns as someone approaches.

Don't scream. Don't scream. Don't scream.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Clean eyes, a clean face, no mask is looking at you agitated. You don't know how to answer, you don't even know if what you are seeing is true.

“I'm a human, I'm a CCG investigator. Don't worry, it's okay, we'll get you out of here. "

Without your being fully aware of it, you find yourself in warm, safe arms that take you away from hell behind you. You didn't even realize you were crying.

. . .

He recognized your smell right away.

Even if it's been some time since his meeting with you, it's hard to forget something that has affected him so much, especially if it is something that has particularly touched his sensitivity over that of others.

And it's not that Uta is then easily surprised, he is ready to expect anything from that crazy world, yet you manage to upset him without even knowing that he is there.

You are smiling. And that's not the fact, but at the same time it is. You are smiling sweetly, sincerely. Your eyes are clear and bright, and you are listening to someone talking to you about their petty problems without batting an eye.

That night, that night he met you, he came back to eat you. He was not a ghoul who got lost in gluttony, but given the situation he had a particular interest in the statement "carpe diem".

He hadn't, in the end. In the end he just looked at you. It would have been easy to swallow you, but he had left you there. He had told himself that he hadn't made it in time, but who knows what was really going through his head at that moment.

It doesn't matter anymore, however. What's a broken toy like you doing so quietly exposed? How can you smile at people like that, when surely the world around you has crumbled into millions of little bits?

You make him angry, you know? Humans like you, whom the world keeps getting back on their feet despite everything, provoke anger in him.

And you are there, a few steps away from him, and you do not realize that the one who had the task of trampling your life is watching you.

And no matter how much anger he may feel inside of him, he can't help but look at you, as you speak comfortable words to someone, while you give your attention as if you have no problem.

"Uta?" Renji's voice, intent on looking at him from behind the coffee shop counter, makes him look away from you.

"Nh? Ah… ”His gaze falls on his now coffee-stained lap. The stain is almost invisible on the black sweater, but it is damp and warm.

"Don't laugh ... can you give me a towel please?"

"I'm not laughing." Yet Uta could swear that in the serious voice of his trusted friend a note of amusement is audible even to those who do not know him.

Carefully he puts the cup back on the saucer, making sure not to do any further damage.

This then. When was he ever so distracted for a human?

But when he instinctively looks for you, after all that nice little theater, you're not there anymore. The table you occupied is empty.

Only one object remained abandoned on the shiny surface. A book lies alone, the bookmark sticking out in the middle.

It is placed on the side where you sat. Did you leave in such a hurry that you left it there?

It is not that he has a real reason to do it, yet, while he is about to leave :Re, with all the tranquility that characterizes him, he picks up that literary volume in his hands, hiding it inside his jacket. Even that printed paper is imbued with your smell by now.

. . .

You talk to books, apparently. The edges of the pages are filled with thoughts written in pencil. They are all yours, it almost seems like you use the books as your diary, but there is nothing so personal about you. They are just… points of view. The world told by you, depending on the inspiration that the phrases in the book give you.

"It must be difficult to live in a world where you can talk to your food about your favorite book."

When Uta's eyes had settled on that particular phrase, he had closed. For someone else it might have been a stupid phrase, probably, but for him it was like a punch in the stomach.

He doesn't know if you wrote it before or after the accident, but in any case that simple sentence arouses a mixture of emotions that he doesn't really know where to place. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't understand what it meant to be a ghoul in that world, but on the other hand, the utopia in which Renji seems so hoping could be made up of people like you. If only he believed it, Uta could like that world, as long as there was a place in that world for someone like him.

“Excuse me, did you happen to find a book yesterday? I'm afraid I left it here by mistake. " Your cordial voice betrays a note of alarmism as you speak to the young girl. Your hands grip the counter as if it were a rock of salvation, but your feet are ready to run elsewhere, to look somewhere else in case it isn't there.

"Oh ... no, I'm sorry, I haven't seen any books." Touka's voice is sorry, an apologetic tone hovers between her words.

"Oh, damn ... sorry, thanks anyway!" Your words are so hasty, so quick that he doesn't have time to interrupt them.

The bell rings and the door closes with a click.

"You have it, don't you?" Renji never misses anything - or almost -.

"Yeah, it’s better that I give it back to them before they run all over Tokyo on foot."

"How long have you been so thoughtful?"

Uta allows himself to take a last look at the silver-haired ghoul from over his sunglasses, as he prepares to leave the cafe: "I'm always thoughtful."

. . .

The snow has just started to fall. It is light and silent, the parks of the metropolis have not yet begun to turn white.

You would gladly stay and watch the show from the heat of your home, if it weren't for that damn book you forgot somewhere. Oh, you love your books, but they're so good at hiding. You were convinced you left it in the coffee shop!

"Excuse me…"

A cordial voice caresses your eardrums. It's so warm and peaceful, yet a chill shiver stops the blood in your veins.

Turning around, you meet a man dressed in black. He is strange, but it doesn't surprise you, there are a lot of strange people in such a big city, even people who wear sunglasses on a snowy day.

You had already seen him in the cafe, but you didn't dwell on him. Not because he doesn't get your attention, just… it was an instinct.

“I think you were looking for this. I found it yesterday by chance. "

Clear and tapered fingers hand you your much-desired book. On fair skin, intertwining dark patterns form inexplicable designs, at least for you, but you're sure they have a lot to say, don't they?

Slowly you reach out your hand, and hesitantly touch the cover, to resume what you were looking for.

The night of the accident did not disappear. You are scared. You are afraid of death, but even more of pain, of imprisonment. You are afraid of fear itself. However, you are also afraid of not living, of wasting, of losing.

You are in a limbo that does not let you escape, and you can not help but continue your life, savoring every second, waiting for the Bird of ill Omen to come and get you.

So you push back the mistrust again, and a grateful and kind smile goes to the one who helped you, without asking for explanations.

"Thank you very much." Your voice reaches his pierced ears with such unexpected sweetness.

"It was a pleasure." His smile, decorated with the piercing, is barely hinted at, but delicate - reassuring? -

And for endless moments you look at each other, in silence, without speaking and without thinking. And then, as if nothing had happened, the dances between prey and predator begin.

"Can I buy you a coffee?"

. . .

Your eyes look at him shiny, frightened. You are still in a cage, imprisoned by a body that will soon be ready to consume you.

Uta wonders if you really never anticipated this. All the times you've crossed paths, have you really ever been in doubt? Every time you looked at him, every time you smiled at him or laughed at his words, did you never guess the truth? No, maybe you've always known it from the start, broken toys never work too well.

The mask of that evening, like a macabre mockery - both for him and for you - is leaning on the work table, not far from you, looking at you placidly. It’s a coincidence that he pulled it out just in the morning.

Suddenly the images of that day come back between you two, like a dream. The incomprehensible to you tattoo on his neck has a creepy look overwhelmed by the shadows that the soft lights create on the ghoul.

Fear invades you, like a script. Yet, while the Bird of ill Omen looms over you, trapping you in the corner of the room with his arms, your terror is different from what he had already seen in you. Today it is almost more visible, less controlled, as you tremble beneath him.

Maybe it's the surprise of being caught in a trap by someone who – perhaps- you had slowly begun to love – despite everything-, or maybe, simply, inside you a little hope still survives.

Uta's head bends, and the tip of his nose brushes your neck, smelling the coveted perfume that had so attracted him.

If you're so scared, how did you smile all that time? How did you keep going? How did you keep loving that world?

Beside his mask, as a warning of future torment, your dear book lies silent, ready to say goodbye. You lent it to him last time, he asked you for it.

Your smell is as strong, sweet, delicious as ever - so why is his stomach closing up? -

His jaws open, and as delicate as cruel they enclose your fragile neck. In them, the accelerated beats of your heart, still alive, make him tremble.

One bite and you will be nothing but dead flesh, and he hesitates.

He had to kill you before it was too late, right? Uta should know himself well enough, he had to understand right away what was happening inside him.

A sigh, and then his lips pull away, his saliva stops wetting you. He is not hungry, he has already eaten.

He is still upon you, but now he is only looking at you, with his eyes of blood and darkness. You, like a frightened puppy, remain shaking in a corner for a few moments, lost in his pupils. And then, like a crazy lightning bolt, you run away, as you have always run away. You slip under his arms, and as fast as you can you reach the door of the shop.

Uta watches you go, swallows bitter air, and then bows his head, surrendered.

What will happen now? Will you shut up in fear? Will you tell anyone? Only time will tell.

He slowly gets up, his hands caressing each other's tattooed arms, in a distracted gesture of protection, as he approaches the table. His fingers touch it, and then squeeze it, while he looks at the book that is left alone again, without your eyes on it.

And then, suddenly, as if he had woken up from a dream, he notices something: your smell has not vanished.

Turning his view, he sees you. You are still there, or maybe you are back there.

Now it is you who are on the side of the light, and he is in the corner of the cage. The Bird of ill Omen has become the broken toy, left alone among his masks.

"What's up?" No matter the crack inside, Uta always looks so mature, peaceful, even after he has threatened to kill you.

You take a step towards him, but your outstretched arm continues to secure yourself to the door jamb. If you left he wouldn't follow you, you know that right?

"I ... I think I'm crazy, Uta ..." You too realize how much your behavior is against logic, how foolish it is to remain - to search - in your nightmare. But on the other hand, humans ... no, people, when they are desperate, lose the light of reason, and do wrong things. Things the world says are wrong. That world, which claims to be the only one, when it is nothing more than a facade, a corner of something much larger.

"Yes, I think so too." He really thinks so. You have to be crazy to still be there, at least as crazy as he is. "Why are you still here?"

You shrug your shoulders, hugging yourself more out of shyness than out of fear - yeah, you're no longer afraid, it's as if you've run out of batteries.

"I ... as long as I'm alive I can choose, right?" It came out of your lips so naturally that you didn't even realize it was you who uttered that sentence, yet it's a truth so deep, so intense that it has guided you from that damn night to this day.

"And what are you choosing?"

Your eyes cast a fleeting glance outside, at the glimmer of the city, and without hesitation you gently accompany the door to close, imprisoning you. Imprisoning both of you.

Maybe it's a prison, but this time it's really your choice. You are with that Bird of ill Omen, but you are not tied up, you are not thrown to the ground in a cold corner. You are with him, surrounded by works of art that stare at you impassively, but it was you who decided it.

"I choose not to ignore anymore ..." Your fingers intertwine with each other, you play with them as if you need to keep them busy as you approach him. He is waiting for you. "I want to understand."

"How can you understand?" He would like to tell you, but he doesn't say a word, because not even he can understand you. What kind of mask would suit you? Who knows, yet he has learned enough about you that he should be able to think of at least one. But no, you are always there, hoping for something, believing that after all, living is worthwhile.

So he stays there, even when you lean against him. Not a contact, but a fusion. Stomach against stomach, lungs against lungs, heart against heart. Your hands cling to his arms only to hold him closer, and as he looks at your closed eyes he knows you're listening to him. You're trying to feel his every breath, every twitch of him. You want to get inside him, and he lets you do it - isn't that what he wanted too?

The predator and the prey united in a single entity for an eternal instant.

It's all so against the moral and social rules, but what do you care now? You already know he could kill you. And in that world that goes round and round without stopping, a black writing in an ancient language that also goes around a greedy neck could be your starting point for putting the pieces back together. Maybe it's a disease, maybe it's madness, but deep down, why not? Why not go a little further? Better to die than to be afraid to live, right?

"How much confidence ..."

His voice further softened by his whisper makes your previously closed eyelids lift. His nocturnal eyes look at you slightly narrowed, a slight upward crease caresses his lips without even knowing it. It is difficult for Uta to do something without being aware of it.

He is very beautiful. Beautiful and awful.

"Can't I?"

The world out there, the crazy little world is gone.

"Well, why not ... you are my food, after all."

[bbrandy2002]

Fool’s Rush In

Chapter 20

Book: TRR

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Warnings: Language and mentions of weird sexual stuff

**Thanks @burnsoslow​. for pre-reading and “The Army” girls for snippet reads.

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

“An email from the Countess?” Ana questioned curiously, just before hitting the video attachment that came with it. Her plush lips soon curved into an enchanted grin when it became apparent who the subjects in the video were and precisely what they were doing together. “Looks like you’re about to get your hard-hitting royal news after all.”

Having finally retrieved his phone, Donnie situated himself upright in the bed and began playing the same email attachment as his lover. By the sounds of the grunts and groans coming from Ana’s phone, it was apparent to the ace-reporter what he was about to watch -- even if the occasional horse neighs were a little confusing. 

Within seconds of hitting play, the man’s jaw dropped wide open as he took in the content. 

“Holy shit, dude, Is that …?”

Ana's intrigued gaze tore from her phone screen and raised a brow at Donnie. “The King’s head guard dressed like a cowboy spanking Lucretia Nevrakis and licking another woman wearing a horse mask in a barn?” She shook her head. “Yes … and did you just call me ‘dude’?”

Ignoring her question, the couple resumed watching for a few more seconds, their facial expressions morphing from one of intrigue to utter disgust when finally Lucretia went full-frontal, nudity before the camera, then spreading wide for Bastien. “Oh, God! The hell?” Donnie grimaced as Ana slapped a hand over her mouth next to him and turned her head away. “I can’t watch this shit.” He lamented, quickly shutting his phone off.

After Ana followed suit and powered her cell off too, the pair sat in uncomfortable silence, simultaneously staring blankly at the same wall across from them, neither knowing what to say or think about what they had just watched together. Eventually, Ana lifted the satin sheet covering her waist up a little higher over her breast, a sense of sleaze and uncleanliness rooting itself and sprouting throughout her body. “I … I don’t know what part was worse: Mystery horsewoman with the guinea pig in Bastien or Lucretia’s wrinkled tramp-stamp with ‘Connie’ written inside what I can only assume is a dick.”

Donnie pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s be clear: there was no worse part. It was all worse! What the hell was that, anyway?”

The Trend editor just shook her head slowly with a glazed-over expression in her eyes; she finally spoke, “I … I think I’m going to go now.” 

“Ana! Don’t let this ruin our night.”

Her expression turned remorseful at his pleading; it had been a great night. “I’m sorry, Mr. Brine. I need to be alone.”

Neither one could look at the other. Ana slowly raised from the bed, gathering up her scattered clothes from the floor, tearing her bra from the doorknob, and then slipped on her heels. Why the Countess sent that video to them, she’d never know, but as she and Donnie exchanged a timid wave of goodbye, Ana left knowing she would never forgive Madeleine Amaranth for ruining the best night of sex she ever had.

This had to be some kind of bizarre and insane mistake.

And usually, Donnie Brine would call this “hard-hitting” new’s story into the station and scramble for the nearest camera to report on it. 

This was not something he would ever share with Cordonia, nor would the duo realize what they just watched was not the video the Countess intended to send them.

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

A baby. My baby. I’m going to be a father. Those words were all Liam could think about as he rode through the glittery neon boulevards of Las Vegas toward the hospital. At that moment, the clear blue heavens above him could open wide and strike him down with a bolt of thunder, and he’d swear he wouldn’t have felt a thing. The King was riding a wave of euphoria unlike anything he’d ever experienced; Riley loved him and was carrying his baby. Nothing in all the world mattered anymore.

Before taking off, it was clear that Bastien likely escaped during the brother’s brawl in the front yard of Riley’s home and apparently took the keys to the Escalade they arrived in with him. The neighborly Burt, who moments prior had a shotgun aimed at the royal duo, reluctantly agreed to drive into the city to drop them off at the hospital on his way to pick up his daughter on the east side of town. He gruffly mentioned, "my girl never learned not to kick her customers in the frank 'n' beans and steal their shit," but neither of the brothers paid much attention.

Riding in the back of a truck while sitting on a spare tire through sunny downtown Vegas wasn’t the way Liam intended to get there, but he was dead set on finding his Pussycat by any means necessary. And, of course, Leo called shotgun but was nice enough to offer his little brother the opportunity to “ride bitch”.

Liam unequivocally declined.

During the bumpy 25-minute ride to Valley Hospital, Liam wondered how it was possible to get everything he ever wanted in such a brief span of time. Literally, his entire heart's desires were being gifted to him one by one; it was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. All he ever wanted was to find happiness, a chance to love, and have a genuine family of his own -- Not an arrangement that would guarantee him a life of misery at worst or of mediocrity at best. When he stepped foot in Sin City several weeks ago, depressed and hopeless at the prospects of his impending marriage to Madeleine, never did he expect life and fate would throw him a twist in the tale. All it took was a weekend bachelor party, an awkwardly shy woman mistaking him for her Tinder date, and a ton of hard booze shared between them to change the entire trajectory of his life. 

Once the rusted-out truck came to a stop at the emergency entrance, Liam wasted no time climbing over the truck’s wooden rail sides and rushing through the revolving doors. Leo’s heavy footsteps could be heard racing behind him. 

Liam’s heart pounded as the seconds -- which seemed liked hours -- ticked by. Not since he was a young boy waiting on his mother to return from her trip in Auvernal had he been more excited to reunite with someone.

Escorted through the long, winding hallways by hospital security to the radiology department, Liam was led inside a room, where his breath instantly hitched at catching his first glimpse of Riley in two-and-a-half days.

Sitting at the foot of an exam table, dressed in a hospital gown, slender legs bare and swinging freely over the side, Riley’s head snapped up at the sound of the door opening. “Liam,” she whispered, relief dripping from her eyes before sliding off the table.

“Pussycat,” he breathed, unable to contain his emotions as she nearly sprinted the short distance between them and into his waiting arms. “I have missed you terribly, Love.”

Riley held onto him tightly, afraid to let go. “I’m so sorry, Liam. I’m so very sorry,” her strangled voice choked out. “I never should have listened to Madeleine.”

“Shhhh. You have nothing to be sorry about,” Liam assured, his hand threading and kneading through her bountiful hair comfortingly. “I watched the security footage, and I saw the way Madeleine confronted you. The way she grabbed you, the way she -- hurt you.” Liam’s face tightened before he kissed her head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Riley answered meekly, “Because she threatened to release an old video of me being intimate during my first marriage. She told me if I didn’t leave, that video would get out and that it would look bad on you, and the council would likely strip you of your crown.” She squeezed him tighter. “I had to protect you.”

Liam looked down at his wife affectionately, placing both hands on the sides of her face, his thumbs wiping away the tears desperately clinging like morning dew to her eyes. “Sweetheart, look at me. The only thing you ever have to protect when it comes to me is my heart. I have guards -- although not the best -- to protect me physically. I have tradition and a birthright to protect my name and crown and a military to safeguard my country. But you, Riley ... you, have the power to destroy me. You’re the keeper of my heart. The one who makes it beat. Without your love to keep it going … well, let’s just say I  don’t ever want to know what that kind of pain would feel like.” They kissed once more as if it were their first and last one ever. 

Plucking out a blade of grass from his hair, Riley smiled brightly for the first time in days. “I’ll guard it with everything in me, Liam. I swear it.”

“You bet your sweet ass you will,” Liam smirked mischievously, grabbing a handful of her backside, causing her to belt out a laugh. “Besides, you took a drunken vow at the Graceland Wedding Chapel before Leo, Mongo, and Pinquee Kittee to love me tender, love me true; that’s about as sacred and binding of an oath as it gets.”

Riley chuckled. “I did. And we all know how those three are the greatest examples of loving and committed relationships.  Even if Mongo did try to steal you away from me.”

“Which worries me considering he’s apparently our ‘son.’” Liam said it tongue-in-cheek, but it instantly reminded him of the other reason he was in such a rush to get to his queen. The playfulness in his mannerisms tapered off, and he became more serious. Liam leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead before working his way lower to the tip of her nose, her lips, and further to Riley’s chin. Slowly sinking to his knees, sliding his hands down her body until he had a firm grip on her slender hips, Liam rested his own forehead on Riley’s lower tummy.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

“What’s that?” Riley asked softly.

Liam placed a lingering kiss onto the thin covering over her flat tummy and glanced up into her gleaming eyes, both filled with ceaseless wonder and rapture. “How you can love someone so much that you’ve never met.”

Riley blinked away a tear, her tiny fingers tracing feather-like trails through his hair. “I know, and yet somehow I’ve been asking myself that question since I met you.”

Liam’s eyes crinkled with a tender smile. “Me too.”

--------------------------------- 

Pacing languidly up and down the hallway outside the room where Liam and Riley were reuniting, Leo let out an exasperated huff before halting his steps to take a quick gander through the long glass window of the door. Leo smiled at watching his brother and sister-in-law embrace and seemed thrilled to be with one another again. And the prospects of -- in his mind -- becoming an uncle “again” was cool and all, but he was bored as hell. Liam was adamant about the former prince staying put and giving him this time needed to speak with Riley in private. Usually, Leo would pay no attention to what Liam asked of him, but maybe, just maybe, it was time for him to get serious and act like the adult he was. Read the room. Respect boundaries. Know when to quit.

Or maybe not.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he headed back in the direction that he and Liam had been led from moments ago, looking for something to kill time.  Strolling leisurely past a set of double doors that displayed “Emergency” in big red letters next to them, a thought suddenly struck, and he took two gliding steps backward. Leo lifted a speculative brow; there was something in the inner machination of his chaotic brain that told him to follow his gut, head inside, and he wouldn’t be sorry. Never one to ignore an instinct or impulse, Leo punched the large metallic button on the wall, causing one of the automatic doors to swing open. 

After stepping inside, he meandered around for a minute, not exactly sure what he was looking for but hoping he might catch a glimpse of a hot nurse walking around without a top on who would want to do naughty things to him. Or perhaps, a naked lady doctor with a nice ass who would manhandle him out of the emergency department, but who he’d eventually win over with his impeccable good looks and god-like sex appeal. He could pretend to be her patient, and if he were lucky, she’d have a bad bedside manner.

Passing a row of draped exam rooms, Leo noticed one curtain pulled open and a young brunette, with part of her thong showing, crouched on the floor, peeking stealthily through the blue drapery that divided the area from the patient on the opposite side.

Curious now to what this woman was so interested in from the next exam room, Leo crossed his arm and stared downward at the floor, lightly whistling a tune, as two doctors walked past him. When they rounded a corner, Leo edged closer to the curtain to listen in.

“Mr. Walker, do you feel any pain when I do this?”

“Ow! What the fuck do you think?” 

At hearing Drake’s irascible voice, Leo’s ears instantly shot up. “No way,” Leo mumbled in astonishment to himself. “Walker is here?” The last he knew, Drake was supposed to have headed back to Cordonia the day before. He leaned in closer.

“You pinched my dick with a pair of damn tweezers. Yeah, you could say there’s a little pain there. Shit!”

Leo clamped a fist over his mouth to keep from busting out. Of all the places his naughty gut had ever led him to, knowing Drake was here and having transplanted dick problems may have been in his top 100 --Nothing would ever beat running with the bulls in Barcelona with Kanye and a very stoned Prince Charles. Leo smiled fondly at the memory before shaking his head and getting back to business.

“We’re just making sure you have feeling in your penis, Mr. Walker.”

“Then touch it with a fucking finger. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you people? You wanna take a jackhammer to my knees next and see if they feel pain too?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Leo overheard the doctor tell Drake. “I expect you’re going to be fine, Mr. Walker. I didn’t see any major discoloration aside from a deep bluish hue to your testicles --” Leo snorted out loudly, causing the doctor to turn his head briefly to the disruption outside the curtain, before clearing his throat and continuing, “A hearty ejaculation or two should clear that right up. When was the last time you --”

“I’ll take care of it,” Drake hastily interrupted in a peevish tone, not wanting the physician to finish the question.

“Very well then. You should be fine. I’ll have the nurse get your discharge papers together, and you can be on your way … And, sir ... try to avoid getting ninja smacked by hookers in the future.”

“I’ll see what I can do …. asshole.” Drake snarled under his breath.

Feeling spunky, an impish grin crossed Leo’s lips as he strolled away undetected from Drake’s doctor leaving his room. “The Drakesters not going anywhere just yet,” he snickered, heading toward a cart with blue scrubs that he passed earlier. “Paging Dr.Wolfshitz to trauma room one. Stat.”

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

Still peeking inconspicuously into the next exam room, Alyssa’s gaze followed Drake’s doctor and a nurse as they exited to work on his discharge. She remained motionless and quiet, barely breathing, fearful she’d get caught. Why she hadn’t looked away yet was beyond her. What was only supposed to be a little looksie at the man, to quench her gnawing intrigue over what was below his belt, had now left her drawn to him.

And while Alyssa saw for herself that everything was normal down there, -- humungous, actually -- it was the sadness and hurt in his deep chocolate eyes that kept the perky, petite woman in spy mode. 

“You can stop hiding behind that curtain, Riley’s friend,” Drake grumbled.

“Eep!” Alyssa yelped at being caught and took a quick step back, nearly toppling clumsily over her feet. He couldn’t have been talking about her. He wasn’t even looking in her direction when he said it. She had been so careful to remain hidden. But who the hell else could he be talking to? Alyssa held her breath, hoping another one of Riley’s friends was hidden on the other side.

“I saw your little beady eyes watching me. Might as well come out from behind that curtain and laugh in my face … you wouldn’t be the first one.”

There were no doubts he was talking about her now. Frozen in panic and unable to move, Alyssa’s cheeks burned, and her heart raced at getting called out. She wondered why she couldn’t have just left well enough alone. If curiosity killed the cat, Alyssa just spent all nine of her lives.

“That’s how it's gonna be, huh?” Drake called out to her again in a snarky tone, yet Alyssa didn’t dare move. “That’s fine. I know I’m just a big joke to everyone now.” He lowered his voice just slightly in self-pity. “Maybe in some ways, I always have been.”

That stung. Alyssa couldn’t discern whether he was actually upset with her about snooping on him -- he probably was -- or as the nagging feeling in her gut was telling her: he just needed a friend. Taking in a deep breath, she skittishly slipped the curtain aside, avoiding eye contact and forcing only a diffident smile. “I’m … I’m sorry.”

He smiled back. “I’m not. I’m Drake.”

---------

With Riley discovering she was pregnant, the E.R. attending opted to forego continuing with the ordered x-rays, believing she had nothing more than a bruised tailbone from her fall, anyway. With the pain she experienced since the encounter with Madeleine, the doctor wanted her to have an ultrasound to ensure everything was fine with the baby and date the pregnancy.

Riley laid back on the exam table, feet planted and legs separated. A technician gingerly moved around an ultrasound probe under the sheet draped from her waist to her bent up knees. Riley and Liam vigilantly watched the screen, anxiously waiting for the black-and-white image to produce the first glimpse of their baby.

Flashing a timid smile, Riley glanced up at Liam, who was hovering over her with his eyes transfixed on the screen. Noticing her unsure look, he leaned down and whispered, “Everything okay, love?”

She shook her head almost imperceptibly and answered meagerly with all seriousness, “What if … what if our baby has a beard, Liam?”

The bewildered king puckered his forehead, unsure what to say. “Wh--why would the baby have a beard, pussycat?” He squeezed her hand reassuringly before she yanked it away and covered her eyes in embarrassment.

She sucked in an unsteady breath, impervious to the prodding continuing below. “Because my Aunt Clem’s firstborn came out with a tiny goatee like that munchkin from the Lollipop Guild,” she began to whimper in increasing frustration, plucking at the tip of her chin.

Liam’s eyes widened as he blew out a huff of air. “Then … I suppose … we’ll stick him in a carnival or something.” He chuckled despite himself. “Or get him one of those top hats and a cane.”

“It was a girrrrrrl,” Riley cried out, covering her face again. “My dad’s family is from Kentucky … there’s gotta be inbreeding somewhere in the past. Our baby will come out looking like a mini Chewbacca, and it’s all my fault. Oh god! What have I done to our child?” She sniffled through her rant, “If you want a divorce, I’ll understand.”

Normally able to keep a stoic demeanor in any kind of situation, Liam just couldn’t do it in this instance. He turned his face away to prevent his wife from seeing the giant smirk on his face and to take a moment to regain his composure from wanting to bust out at her theatrics. He didn’t know what the hell he married into or why this woman he loved so much all of a sudden had forgotten she was adopted. 

It would be an interesting nine months.

Riley frowned with a simper, “You can’t even look at me. I’ll have to raise this little hairball all by myself. They’ll have us in the ‘weird things’ section of the National Enquirer next to Drake.”

She was correct: he couldn’t look at her -- she was being completely ridiculous. Liam’s shoulders bounced against his stifled laughter. “Dear God, Riley. You’ve got to stop.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

Unaware of the pair of eyes at the foot of the exam table, glaring between the couple in absolute confusion, the technician performing the scan cleared her throat to break the tension. “I hate to interrupt … this.” She nodded between the two.”But, here’s your baby.” She tapped her fingertip on the screen to a small oblong shape on the monitor with a tiny white form in the center. Riley lowered her hands from her teary face and whipped her head around at the same time Liam did, both wholly captivated. “It’s too early to tell if there is a … goatee. But this little flicker right here --” She pointed out. “-- Is where the heart is beating.”

Feeling his wife’s hand grip his tighter, Liam stood motionless for a moment as he watched the tech pause the screen to get measurements before sucking in his lips and dropping his head onto Riley’s shoulder. “Did you see the heart beating, my love? That’s our baby. Our perfect baby.”

Blinking back a tear of joy, Riley turned her head toward her shoulder to meet Liam’s adoring eyes. “Thank you for not covering your lizard.”

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

Blushing from head to toe in guilt and embarrassment, Alyssa took a step inside of Drake’s room, letting the curtain fall back behind her. Twirling a section of hair around her finger, she continued to apologize, feeling it was the right thing to do. “Again, I’m really sorry, Mr. Walker --”

“I told you my name is Drake. Mr. Walker was my father’s name. Please, just call me Drake,” he insisted in a softer tone that took the awkward-feeling Alyssa by surprise.

“Drake,” she repeated as she picked at the cuticle of her thumbnail, “I shouldn’t have been watching you, and I know I invaded your privacy. I swear, in spite of what this looks like, I’m not some creeper. I just thought … “ Alyssa looked away bashfully, twisting on her feet. “you’re really handsome.” It was true, even if she knew damn well that’s not why she peeked in at him.

Drake cocked a brow, calling her bluff. “Really?” he replied skeptically. ”That’s the only thing you were looking at?”

Dabbing at her increasingly perspiring forehead and feeling the blood drain into her feet, Alyssa declared, “I think I’m going to pass out now.”

Sensing she was serious, Drake quickly tapped the rolling chair next to his bed and insisted she sit down. Walking on wobbly legs, Alyssa finally plopped down on the chair and fanned her ashen face with one hand. Drake quickly twisted the cap off an unopened bottle of cold water one of the nurses had given him and offered it to Alyssa. She gratefully took it and guzzled a giant swig from the plastic container. Soon her breathing normalized, and the color in her face started to pinken again.

Drake stared at her in concern. “Do you want me to yell for the doctor?”

Alyssa shook her head insistently. “No. I’m better now. I just got a little anxious, is all, but I deserved it. I shouldn’t have looked at you.” She paused for a moment before offering a genuine smile. “By the way: I don’t think you’re a joke, and I would never laugh at you. I really do think you’re handsome.”

He could tell what she was saying to him was true, and for the first time in weeks, it felt nice to have someone to talk to who didn’t want to discuss a certain medical procedure he’d recently undergone. “I appreciate that … Alyssa, right?” She nodded her head. “You have beautiful eyes --”

“I hate to interrupt this party, -- ay,” A doctor in blue scrubs, a surgical cap, mask, and a horrible Canadian accent came strolling in gleefully, almost out of nowhere. “It’s time for your surgery, Mr. Walkersan -- ay.”

Drake shot straight up in his bed, glaring at the man. “What?” he screeched. “I’m getting discharged. That other doctor said I was fine.”

“Oh no, no, no -- ay. Doctor … Pepper … Stein, sent me down here to wheel you at once into surgery. Your test results showed a lot of icky stuff that needs to be taken care of at once lest you lose your manhood again. Ay.”

Narrowing his eyes, Drake shot back. “What bad stuff?”

“Uh, let me see here -- ay,” Leo began flipping through a makeshift chart he was holding in his hands and pretending to scan over a particular page. “Oy me. There seems to be … algae overgrowth in the upper ... sphincter of the … Dua Lipa -- ay. And thees muy crabs have set up a colony on the Los ballsackos.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Drake asked incredulously while Alyssa patted his arm comfortingly. “What the hell is a Los ballsackos?”

“Es los ballsackos is los ballsackos.” Leo hastily scolded as he eyed Drake sternly. “We shan't have no time to waste. Das ist Viener schloggin … we remove the viewer and then the scloggin or there be little la cucarachas crawling everywhere -- la vie en rose, amigo.”

“No one’s removing my viener, or my scloggin!” Drake protested.

“Excuse me,” Alyssa rose to her feet, knowing there was something off with this sketchy acting doctor. “I speak fluent Spanish and French, and I can tell you, almost none of that made sense. Not to mention the fact that I believe part of that was German and ancient English. ¿De dónde sacaste tu título, doctor?”

Leo’s bright blue eyes dulled with uncertainty as Alyssa crossed her arms, awaiting a response. Scrambling for an answer and wishing he’d paid more attention during his language lessons, he ultimately replied with a shirk, “Eh … Despacito?”

“Despacito?” Alyssa challenged before glancing over at Drake, who was still glaring a hole into the perceived physician, then returning her gaze back to a cow-eyed Leo. “Who are you, really?”

"Who am I really?" Leo replied with a smug grin as he lowered the surgical mask that was hiding his face. "I'm Dr. Wolfschitz, baby."

[ev-pierce-writes]

Bolero

Javier PenaxReader pairing

Rating: Explicit (duh)

7.4 K

What starts as just a job as an informant quickly turns into an attraction to Agent Javier Peña.

Essentially what I think it's like to dance with Javi. Plus having sex.

If you want to listen to the song I picture them dancing to it's called Dos Gardenias by Buena Vista Social Club. I know it didn't come out until the 90s but I really don't care.

___

You didn't like this part of the job. Hated it, actually. Your feet hurt in your heels and the humidity was making you sweat. But tips were tips, even if it involved fake flirting with old men.

The music ended and José spun you into a dip as the small crowd clapped. José was an excellent dancer and he made for a good partner when it came time to actually perform for the guests, rather than try to drag them onto the dance floor. Most people assumed you were a couple you danced so in sync, but it wasn't like that.

He was a good friend though. He'd gotten you the job at the bistro, and for the small pain of three choreographed dances a night plus a few private salsas, you were paid handsomely. Of course, this wasn't your dream, performing in a smoky, humid bar for tourists and old handsy men. You would rather be on the stage as a professional, performing only for the people who could afford a ticket, not just a watered-down tequila. But work was work and money was money.

Now your least favorite part. You leaned an elbow on the bar, sweeping the crowd for whatever gringo looked the least gross. The manager insisted you interacted with the customers, reeling them in with a sexy pose and a few awkward steps on the dance floor. They tended to drink more when you did that, which was good for the bar, and you usually ended up with a couple of extra bills in your hand, which was good for you. So you complied.

An older, slightly less creepy-looking gentleman had caught your eye, and you were about to approach when you felt a gentle hand on your elbow.

"Mind teaching me a few of those steps you just did?" The music was starting up again with a bolero, your cue to find the dance floor, so you figured you'd comply with the request. Except when you looked into the face of the stranger who had spoken those words, you were taken aback. He was young, or at least younger than most of the men in here, and taller too. Shining from his tanned face were chocolatey brown eyes, surprisingly sincere and kind. His dark hair was combed into place, though a few stray curls peeked out from behind his ears and at the base of his neck.

"Sí, señor." The Spanish came out as a force of habit, though he had addressed you in English and a perfect American accent. Men liked it when you spoke Spanish, even if they couldn't understand. It gave them the impression that you were exotic. But the man half expected that from you. He'd been watching you most of the night, analyzing the way you moved, the way you beguiled the guests into a dance and then a drink, the way you controlled a man's mood with the flick of your hips and slide of your hand up his arm. The perfect skill set of a secret plant.

Without any hesitation, the man took your hand in his and led you into the crowd of dancing people. He placed his other on your hip, though he left a respectful distance between the two of you. It was uncharacteristic of the guests to do so; they generally felt they had some right to press up against you as they stumbled around.

But this man was different. He already knew the three-quarter timing. He seemed a bit tense, like he was having trouble letting loose, but he wasn't clumsy at all. "I don't think you need my instruction," you said.

The man smiled, his mustache curling up to reveal a single dimple on his smooth cheek.

"No, hermana, I don't."

Maybe there was some Latino in that tan after all. But his reply caught you off guard. You hoped pulling you onto the dance floor wasn't his attempt at flirting. You'd made a pact with yourself to never sleep with the guests, and so far you'd held true.

But he wasn't flirting, though he desperately wanted to. You were exactly the type of girl he'd pick up on a boring night, or pay to have sex with him and share your secrets. But tonight was strictly business.

"Do you work here every night?" he asked. It was a strangely specific question, though maybe he was hoping to see you again, you thought.

"Only Thursday, Friday, Saturday," you replied. The bistro only ever needed you on the busiest nights of the week, which was fine with you. Three days of work made you plenty of money, and then you had the rest of the week off. "Why? Are you already planning a second dance?"

The man ignored his question to ask another of his own. "Do you make a lot of money?"

His questions were starting to sound a bit bizarre and he wasn't answering yours either. Why did he care what you made?

"Unless you're planning on hiring me and paying me more, I don't see why you need to know." It wasn't good to be snappy with paying customers, but this enigma of a man didn't seem like the average customer to you. And instead of getting defensive at your tone, his mood shifted quickly and he laughed. A deep, throaty laugh, just as gravely and melodious as his voice. He liked your confidence and your attitude. But then he was back to business just as quickly.

The man led you towards the back of the dance floor, away from the crowd and the watchful eye of the bartender, a move that made you worry and caused you to doubt his intentions. His eyes had gone serious, a wrinkle of concentration between his eyebrows and crowding out the kindness.

"Actually, I would like to hire you."

You came to a stop in surprise but the man pulled you forward, urging you to continue dancing so as not to draw attention to the pair of you. He drew you closer so he could speak directly into your ear, forcing you to breathe in his scent with the proximity, cologne and cigarettes and the saltiness of a light sweat.

"You have a club or something?"

He didn't answer your question, just asked more of his own. "Do you know runs this place?"

You shrugged. "I think his name is Manuel, but I've only met him once."

"Keep an eye out for him, will you? See when he comes and goes, if he gets any shipments or deliveries. I'll pay you for providing information."

It was your turn to finally get some answers. "Who are you?"

"My name is Javier Peña." Javier spun you out before pulling you back into his chest.

"Well, Señor Peña, I don't know who you think I am, but I am not a spy and I don't give a damn about what my employer does. So why do you care what he does?"

"Let's just say the government has a special interest in your employer. But we'd like to keep this little piece of knowledge under wraps."

You eyed Javier suspiciously. Why would the government be interested in what your boss did with his bistro? And why would this man, Javier Peña, trust you to deliver secrets? But again, money was money. Little did you know, Javier Peña was aware of your lack of loyalty to anyone, as long as they were paying you, and he gambled on this fact to ease you into a deal.

"How much are you offering?"

"I'll double whatever you make now."

Double? Mierda. "Bueno, double it is. Not sure what you expect me to find, but I'll keep my eyes open."

That full smile returned, white teeth and all. "Un secreto, sí?"

You nodded in return as the song came to an end. Letting go of your waist, Javier pulled a pair of aviators from the deep vee of his shirt and slipped them on before handing you a business card from the back pocket of his jeans. He instructed you to call him if you saw anything, anything at all. Javier gave you a salute and turned to leave, though not before asking you one more question.

"And your name?"

Now is when you usually lied, telling whatever slimeball you'd just swayed into oblivion a made-up name, like Rosa or Maria. But something about this time was different. This time, you gave him your real name.

"Adiós, bailarina," he said with a grin.

"Adiós, Señor Peña." It wasn't until you were home that you noticed he'd slipped a small stack of bills into your pocket.

---

Standing in the living room of your apartment, you held the card Javier had given you almost a week ago. You hadn't been exactly sure what he was asking you to look out for. You rarely saw your boss anyway. But then tonight, as you'd arrived at work, a truck had been parked by the employee entrance of the bistro. Manuel was still nowhere to be found, but stacks upon stacks of boxes were being unloaded into the dry storage of the kitchen. And you had taken note of it all.

Finally, you picked up the phone off its cradle and dialed the number on the card, wrapping the thick cord around your fingers as it rang. A moment of silence, and then a deep voice spoke on the other end of the line.

"Javier Peña speaking." It sounded like he had just woken up, his voice softer than you remembered and groggy as well. It was a bit late, after midnight, but you figured this was something he wanted to hear sooner rather than later.

"Hola, Senior Peña, it's me from the bistro." Another silence, some shuffling, and was that a voice in the background? "Did I wake you?"

"No, not at all. What's up?"

"You wanted to know if Manuel had a shipment, right?"

"Yes, yes, what did you see?"

"Hm, I could tell you. Or I could get my mi dinero first."

Javier sighed on the other end. "Right, of course. How much do I owe you?"

"Let's see, including tips, I made 300 this week."

"Fine, 300 pesos it is. Where can I meet you?"

"You want to meet right now?"

Apparently, he did. You gave him the address to a twenty-four-hour diner you liked and he hung up, saying he'd meet you there. You gathered your purse, double-checking that the small handgun you carried for self-defense was still there. Not that you were worried the mysterious Javier Peña was someone to be scared of. But better safe than sorry.

Ten minutes later, you stepped out into the heat of the summer air. The darkness of night did little to reduce the temperature, but the humidity had dissipated enough that you rolled the windows of the car down and blasted your music into the silent night.

Though you were sure you looked a bit frazzled and worn out when you parked, Javier only noticed the flush on your cheeks and the curl of your windswept hair as he watched you step out of the car through the window of the diner. You hadn't bothered to change out of your dress and heels from work, which left little to the imagination in the way of your long legs and curved waist. When he'd first approached you last week, he'd been polite and reserved, only letting his hands fall where they were meant to in a dance. But tonight, the ruching of your dress at your hips called out to be touched. Javier knew it was all part of your job, but part of him wished you'd dressed up like that just for him. He shook his head. He shouldn't be thinking about you like this.

A little bell jingled over the door as you drifted into the warm restaurant.

Javier steadied his hands and composed his face, not wanting to reveal the true thoughts running through his mind as you plopped into the booth seat across from him. He looked ready to get down to business, but you were hungry and held up a hand to silence him before he could begin to speak. The waitress came and took your order, a burger and fries, before turning to Javier. He relented to whatever game you were playing and ordered as well in perfect Spanish.

"Where are you from?" you asked as the waitress left to place your orders.

"This little meeting isn't about me," Javier replied, sounding a bit preoccupied, distracted even. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing the smooth skin of his neck and chest, as if he'd dressed in a hurry.

"Eh, that's not very polite. Did I interrupt a little midnight date with your amorcita?" You were pretty sure that had been a woman's voice in the background when you called him earlier. His response, or lack thereof, told you everything you needed to know. Emboldened by his reaction, you continued on with your one-sided conversation.

"I love American food. Are burgers better in Texas? That is where you're from, no?"

The look of shock that flitted across Javier's face was enough to satisfy you and you leaned back in your seat with a smile. You tried your best not to show how pleased you were with his reaction, but your comment got you thinking about what he was like in bed. That was not a direction you needed your mind to wander, especially when it caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

"Okay, detective, I think that's enough. You want your money or not?" Though he acted annoyed, Javier was secretly impressed. What had given it away? His accent maybe?

"Sí, sí. Although I am a bit interested to know where my money is coming from."

"I told you. The government."

"You haven't really proven that to me though. Besides, what if you're trying to put my boss out of business? Then I'm out of a job. A good-paying job."

"I am trying to put your boss out of business." The withering look you gave Javier didn't put him off, though you wished it did. If looks could kill and all that. But it did provoke him to pull something from his back pocket and hold it up to your face. "DEA. You know what that is right?"

"Mierda, was it drugs in those boxes?" You couldn't help the shock that spread across your face.

"Maybe."

You pulled a notepad from your purse as the waitress returned with your food. In between bites, you read off of the notes you'd taken.

"I got to work at 4:30. The truck was already there. Manuel was not. Some men unloaded the boxes into the kitchen."

"How many."

"I don't know."

Javier raised his eyebrows. If he'd learned anything from this conversation it was that you were an observant person. He doubted that you hadn't bothered to count them. He had only to wait for you to continue on your own.

"Bueno, forty or so. This big," you indicated with your hands, about the size of the box the tomatoes came in.

"And it wasn't just food in there? You're sure it was something different than normal?"

"Come on, don't you trust me?"

"No," was his swift reply, though it was said with a smile.

"Alright, then. I looked in one. Not food, for sure."

Javier nodded in understanding and pulled a billfold from his back pocket, ready to hand over your cash.

"Espere, Señor, you think that's all I've got?" you said teasingly as you finished your fries and sucked the grease from your fingertips. "You really have no faith, dios mío."

Javier watched you intently, scrutinizing the way your tongue licked away the grease from your thumb. He took a deep breath that sounded like exasperation to you but was really meant to release an uncomfortable knot building in his stomach as he tried not to imagine what else your tongue could do.

"At 5:30, a woman named Victoria called looking for Manuel. No one answered the phone so I did. She left this message." You read directly from the notepad. "I like chocolate ice cream better than vanilla. Maybe you can take me to la heladería tomorrow."

"You're joking."

"Not at all. She said that," you said defensively. "Even gave me an address."

You ripped the paper from your notebook at handed it to Javier as he rubbed a hand along his strong jaw.

"So what are you going to do? Maybe a stakeout, arrest some people, wave your armas around?"

Javier rolled his eyes. "The DEA isn't all about stakeouts and guns. But no, we aren't going to do anything yet. There's no need to reveal our plant. And we don't want you to end up dead so don't get caught either."

"How reassuring. I'm glad the United States has me in their best interests," you deadpanned.

"Just keep doing what you're doing."

"Oh, so you want to see me again? Next time you can buy me a drink."

"Don't flatter yourself."

You laughed in response. Sure, this was all about money, but it was nice to have a real conversation with someone who was witty enough to keep up with your banter. But he was still too easy to tease and you took advantage of it. You liked the way his eyes narrowed and his brows creased when you got under his skin.

"You know, I'll just take it as a compliment that you're only paying me for information and not sex as well," you said as you stood, placing a couple of bills onto the table as a tip.

Javier groaned in frustration. Talking to you was like walking through a hailstorm of bullets. He was bound to get grazed no matter how careful he was. "Eh, mujer, give me a break, por favor."

And yet, despite his protests, Javier liked your sharp tongue. It intrigued him. Normally, he didn't care much about who his informants were or where they were from. But Javier was curious about you. You were smart, skilled, and good at influencing people to comply with your desires. And yet you spent your weekends on a sticky dance floor, performing for gringos like him.

The glittering smile you gave him as you left him sitting in the booth lit a small flame in his heart.

"Buenas noches, Señor Peña," you said to him as you left, almost out the door before he called your name. You turned back. "Qué pasa?"

"Javi. Just call me Javi."

---

Several weeks went by like this, with you calling Javier late at night to let him know what you'd seen. The check-ins came every Saturday, as the shipments had been consistent and seemed to run on a schedule. Eventually, you got comfortable enough to let Javier come to your apartment and exchange information for cash on your couch. You had no idea, but Javier was beginning to expect your calls, anticipating the ringing of his phone around midnight and hearing your voice on the other end.

But when you didn't check in one week, he began to worry. It was past one in the morning. Surely you would have called by now. Maybe he had missed it? There was no way; he'd sat next to the phone all night. So Javier did something he never did. He called you instead. When you didn't answer, he started to suspect something was wrong. Javier told himself to calm down, that you had probably just forgotten, or that maybe nothing of note had happened this week, or you were already asleep. But he couldn't get it out of his mind that something had gone wrong, that you'd been found out and someone had hurt you.

It was nearly two when you finally got home. For some reason, the Saturday crowd had been extra lively tonight, keeping you much later than you wanted. As soon as you unlocked the door and stepped into your apartment, you pulled off your heels and unzipped your dress, peeling it from your sticky body right there in the living room. You needed a shower and you needed to call Javier, but all you wanted was sleep. It could wait until morning.

At last, you were ready for bed, windows pushed open to let in a breeze, sheets turned down, and in nothing but your dressing gown, when a knock sounded at your door. Who would be up at this time of night and disturbing your peace?

Looking through the peephole, you were shocked to find the last person on earth you expected to be standing in the hallway of your apartment building.

"Javi?" you said in confusion as you opened the door. He was leaning against the door frame, one hand on his hip, as if trying to look relaxed but totally failing at it. On Javier's face were written lines of worry, but they relaxed at the sight of you. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh, good, you're home. I was worried."

Maybe it was the exhaustion fogging your brain, but he sounded genuinely distressed. The normally confident, almost arrogant Javier had been replaced with someone entirely different. "Sí, of course I'm home, where else would I be?"

"Well, you didn't call. And then you didn't answer your phone. So I was worried something had happened." Javier had managed to miss the state of your dress, or lack thereof, when you had first opened the door. But now, he noticed you wore a cream-colored dressing gown and little else. One sleeve had slipped off your shoulder in your hurry to dress, revealing the lack of anything beneath.

Javier's breath hitched in his throat as he desperately tried to tear his eyes away from your shoulder. It was a just shoulder, for god's sake. It's not like you were standing naked in front of him. But then he was thinking about you naked and that was an even bigger problem.

For a whole month, Javier had gone without a woman in his bed and it wasn't until he saw you that he realized why. He wanted you, but in a way that was different from the way he wanted anyone else. He didn't want you for information or even a quick release, but something more intimate and intense. What was wrong with him? He had to leave before he said something he might regret. You were an informant, a contact, a player in this long game of chess, and nothing more.

"I'm gonna go," Javier said, finally looking away. He was acting strange, even your tired eyes could tell. He looked disheveled, the buttons of his salmon pink shirt left open at the top and half-tucked into his jeans. His hair was no longer combed flat, the way it usually was when you saw him. Instead, it stuck up in all manner of directions, curly and unruly. Javier rubbed the back of his head as he turned to go. You weren't sure what exactly compelled you, but you called out to him before he could leave.

"Do you want a drink?" So much for sleep.

Javier had been in your apartment plenty of times. So why did he suddenly not know what to do with himself? He stood stiffly in the living room, eyeing the discarded dress you hadn't picked up yet. When you handed him a glass of whiskey he barely noticed. His mind was clearly not in the apartment, though his body was. Finally, he sat on the couch, leaning his elbows on his knees, the glass balanced precariously in one hand.

Javier's thoughts drifted from one place to another, relief that you were fine, embarrassment for having thought that you weren't, bliss at your invitation inside, and then shame for having accepted.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" he asked.

"Only if you share," you replied, sitting next to him on the couch with your own drink. The pair of you sat like that for a while, in complete silence, passing a single cigarette back and forth. Javier had no way of knowing but your thoughts followed a similar path to his, a rollercoaster masked by a sense of calm.

Your fingertips lightly grazed his as Javier passed you the cigarette. He watched you take a long draw, pulling the smoke deep into your lungs and letting it numb the strange feeling inside you. You were hyper-aware of Javier's presence beside you, his shoulder and knee barely grazing yours, even though you stared straight ahead at the clock on the wall. Three in the morning, it read. Perhaps it was something about the early morning hours, or the dim light of your living room, the only source from the kitchen, but the next words out of your mouth were the most sincere you'd ever spoken to him.

"Are you alright, Javi?"

"Sí."

"You don't seem alright." His voice was too calm. "Is it work?"

"No."

"Friends? Family?"

"No."

You paused, pretending to contemplate for a moment.

"Ah, I know. No pretty girls to warm your bed?" You couldn't help it, falling back into teasing him like that. But he didn't want to talk and it was the only way to draw him out.

"It's disturbing how observant you are," Javier said. It wasn't a true answer, but it was answer enough. He sighed and put the cigarette out before placing his head in his hands. "We aren't friends, you know."

It was a strange comment, almost like he was trying to convince himself of the fact, not you.

"Wow. I should be offended. But for your sake, I'll pretend like I'm not."

"That's not what I mean," Javier tried to explain. "I mean-- I mean I shouldn't be doing this." He waved his hand around as if it indicated anything about what 'this' was. But you understood. He shouldn't be accepting drinks after midnight and sharing cigarettes in dimly lit apartments. It was unprofessional. Then again, everything about your relationship was unprofessional, even the work only parts.

It had taken you a while to admit to yourself that you were attracted to Javier. But when you actually started to look forward to Saturday night, to your conversations, even though they revolved around your work, that's when you knew. It was something in the way he looked when he was listening to you, his eyes holding contact with yours, eyebrows furrowed, hand on his chin, that made you think maybe he felt the same way. His hands, what was it about them? They were big and strong and you hadn't yet forgotten the way they had held onto your waist as you danced the night you met.

Dance. You knew how to communicate with that. It was second nature. Perhaps it would let you both open up. So you stood and moved to the record player. The space wasn't big enough to truly dance, but you kept plenty of records on hand to practice new choreography alone. You pulled out your favorite, a gift from José, and carefully placed down the needle.

"The bolero is danced in 3/4 time," you said, holding out your hand to Javier. "But I think you knew that already."

Javier seemed to understand and only hesitated a moment. The music swelled and he took your hand in one of his, the other finding its place on your back between your shoulder blades. There wasn't much space to move, but he led you through the steps anyway. Rock forward, step right, rock back, step left. Repeat. Tonight, Javier held you close, your hips and chests pressed against one another in a way that was much different from the first time you'd danced. He was more relaxed as well, allowing his hips to move in time with yours. Javier leaned his cheek against yours.

When you'd invited him in for a drink, Javier hadn't been sure what your intentions were. He still wasn't, though something in the way you let his fingertips glide up and down your spine as you danced gave him an idea.

And yet, he couldn't read you at all, though it seemed he could have no secrets around you. You had picked up instantly on his strange mood and though he hated to admit it, he liked the way you were persistent in trying to draw him out from his shell. He found you alluring. You were beautiful, yes, and he imagined as he fell asleep at night what you might look like under your tight dresses and this deliciously thin robe. But he also liked you, liked talking to you, liked being around you, liked your incesant teasing.

The song ended and the next one started up again, but neither of you moved away. Somehow so starved for physical contact, you were drunk on one another's touch, swaying gently in the dark. "We shouldn't--" Javier tried to speak but you interrupted him.

"Stop with the should or should not, Javi. It's too late for that."

"Why did you invite me in?" Javier figured it was worth asking, just to be sure.

"Why did you show up at my apartment, uninvited, in the middle of the night?"

"Fuck," Javier cursed under his breath. "I'm tired of this. Your half-answers, my unanswered questions, dancing, literally dancing, around whatever truth there is between us. I just want to know what you're thinking and it's impossible to tell."

You were taken aback. You had been so preoccupied deciphering Javier for yourself you'd forgotten he was probably trying to do the same with you. The look in his eyes was desperate, needy, and untamed.

The sensible thing to do would be to kick him out, to end it here because this wasn't right. It wasn't professional. And it was breaking your biggest rule: never sleep with the customer. But you were anything but sensible with a drink swirling around your veins.

You pushed Javier away gently, and he looked slightly crestfallen before he saw what you did next. The drink may have given you a boost of confidence, but this desire was all your own. With a gentle tug at the tie of your robe, you let it fall from your shoulders, the silk pooling at your feet as you stood bare before him. Javier was frozen in place, but then his eyes widened in surprise before raking up and down your body unabashedly.

"Well, I guess that's some type of answer," he whispered. The clock ticked on the wall, counting down the moments.

"Your move, Javi." Your words stoked the flame in his heart that you'd lit so many weeks ago. But his brain struggled to keep up, still in shock at the sudden sight of you naked for him and him alone. He wanted to take in every inch of you and ravish you all at the same time.

Javier reached out a hand, hesitating slightly as if unsure if you were real or just a golden vision before him. In the dim light from the kitchen, you seemed to glow, wild hair swept behind your shoulders, chest rising and falling with anticipation. Finally, Javier's fingers made contact with your skin, the back of his knuckles gently grazing the plane of your stomach. You trembled when he finally offered you his touch, goosebumps following the path of his hand as he moved up your body toward the curve of your breast. His thumb brushed across your nipple, causing you to gasp and nearly jump out of your skin. But his hand didn't linger, instead tracing the lines of your sternum to your collarbone and up your neck.

Javier's hand found its place on your cheek, his thumb sweeping across the ridge of your cheekbone. You closed your eyes softly, relishing in the sensation of his skin on yours. His hand was calloused but surprisingly smooth, as if worn by years of the same work. You turned your face toward his hand, pressing your lips to his palm.

You kept your eyes closed, expecting him to kiss you, your lips burning with apprehension. But the kiss didn't come, only the soft sounds of him moving and his hand leaving your face. You opened your eyes, worried he'd changed his mind and was leaving you there vulnerable to the world.

Instead, you found him kneeled before you, like a subject before his queen.

A shiver had run down Javier's spine when you'd kissed his palm as he pictured placing his own lips to yours. But something about the way you looked in that moment, ethereal, celestial, divine, forced him to his knees in worship. He wanted to taste every inch of you, learn every curve and crevasse of your body. You were just as beautiful--no, even more beautiful--than he'd imagined alone in his bed at night. And here you were, offering up that smooth skin, those thighs, those lips. And he would fucking worship you.

One hand found your waist, gripping gently but firmly to hold you in place. The other pulled a knee over his shoulder, causing you to stumble forward and forcing you to grab onto Javier for stability. But his hands held you firmly as his fingers sunk into the flesh of your ass, pulling you closer to his face, mouth sinking into you fluttering lips.

You gasped, fingers tangling into Javier's unruly hair and holding on tight, the sensation of his tongue against your clit making your legs go weak. A groan came from between your thighs, sending vibrations through your core and twisting your stomach into knots.

"Fuck, just like I imagined," Javier mumbled under his breath.

Like he'd imagined?

"You've pictured this?" you managed to ask between breaths. You could barely speak, the moans tumbling from your mouth leaving little oxygen in your lungs for anything else.

"Amor, you send me to sleep at night and wake me up in the morning."

Oh mierda, his tongue was continuing to swirl around your clit, leaving you unable to control your thoughts or your movements. Your hips shifted of their own accord, grinding against Javier's face as he ate you out. At some point, he would need to come up for air, but for now, he was perfectly content to suffocate between your captivating legs, drinking in your scent and swallowing the taste of you.

Javier was guiding you languidly toward your climax, savoring every shudder and twitch he pulled from you. The muscles of your pelvic floor seized and you let out a delirious moan. The tension that preceded your orgasm curled up through your stomach and into your lungs, drawing the strength from your limbs. Suddenly unable to hold up your upper half, let alone stabilize your legs, you slumped forward, chin hanging heavily against your chest, hands sliding down Javier's back and gripping the fabric of his shirt.

"Javi, please, I can't hold on." You needed to sit, lay down, anything, before you collapsed in ecstasy here in the living room. At your words, Javier picked up the pace, taking you from a gradual climb to a swift ascent. His acceleration told you everything you needed to know. Come for him, and he'd take you to the bedroom.

So you did, your orgasm shuddering through you at a staggering pace. It rushed through you, searing and urgent, and something told you this was only the beginning. A warm-up of sorts, leaving you unable to stand yet shivering for more. The last waves of your orgasm spread through you, Javier drinking them from you until your trembling subsided and your breathing came back to normal. He caught you as you eased back into your body, picking you up by the waist and slinging you over his shoulder. You giggled at the sudden change of perspective, now hanging upside down with an excellent view of Javier's ass.

"What are you doing?"

Javier didn't answer.

With a flop, you landed on the bed on your back. Javier stood over you, taking in the sight of you. Little did he know, you were doing the same, even though he was still fully clothed. You sat up on the edge of the bed and tugged at his shirt, pulling it from his tight jeans. Javier undid the buttons, letting out a soft groan as you took advantage of his proximity to palm the bulge in his pants. You wanted a taste.

His shirt now discarded, you worked at the button of Javier's jeans, placing a soft kiss on his stomach as you tugged them down. No underwear, why weren't you surprised? Javier's fingers curled into your hair, taking hold with a gentle yet solid grip as you freed his cock from confinement, precum leaking from the swollen head.

You looked up through your eyelashes, wanting to watch Javier's face as you swiped your tongue across the tip of his length, savoring the taste and earning a strangled moan from Javier's mouth. His eyes sunk shut and the image of you in the diner, licking the grease from your fingers danced behind his eyelids. He realized he was about to have that fantasy fulfilled, about to know exactly what your tongue could do.

The expression on Javier's face and his tightening hands in your hair made your stomach flutter. The absolute control you held over this man was ten times more satisfying than manipulating those men in the bistro because you were enjoying this too. Lightly, you dragged your tongue up his quivering cock, causing Javier to buck his hips and let out a hiss of dissatisfaction.

"Mierda, princesa, you gonna take me or just make me beg for it all night."

"You know I like to tease you, Javi." But the time for teasing was over. With one hand wrapped around him, you took him into your mouth, lowering your head as far as your gag reflex would let you. You began to move slowly, Javier's hands still in your hair and guiding your movements. Your other hand reached up and fondled his balls, pinching and massaging the tender skin. The sensation sent Javier hurtling toward the edge and he began to thrust into your mouth, matching your pace. It was good, too good. He was going to cum soon if you kept going.

Suddenly, Javier pulled away with a grunt, panting your name.

"Fuck, princesa, you're gonna finish me off fast like that." His voice was ragged with hunger. He wanted to taste you again, feel himself inside you as you came. "I'm not done with you yet."

Javier untangled his hands from your hair and placed them tenderly on your shoulders before pushing you back onto the bed again. He grabbed your ankles and hooked them over his shoulders, giving him full access to your cunt which was aching in anticipation of his cock, the size of which you had just fucked with your mouth.

You could feel the heat of him, so close, but Javier took his time, kissing his way down your thighs, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin until your legs shook. And still, he didn't slip inside you, instead caressing the tenderness of your stomach with his mouth. He'd kissed all the way up your body, from the jut of your hip bones to the freckle below your bellybutton to the supple fullness of your breasts. Javier's attentions left you squirming under his touch, but he wasn't done. He wanted to taste every inch of your exposed skin, both salty and sweet under his tongue.

Suddenly, Javier's touch left your body and he flipped you over. You squealed at the abrupt movement, your face in the pillows and hands gripping the sheets. Behind you came the sound of a condom opening. And then you could feel Javier hovering above you, his cock teasing your entrance, one hand on your hip and the other in your hair. And then his voice spoke next to your ear.

"Are you ready, princesa?" Javier asked, his voice heady and ragged.

"Fuck me, Javi." That was all the invitation he needed. Without a moment's hesitation, Javier lined himself up with your entrance and slammed into you. Your gasp of surprise, and all the screams that followed, dissipated into the pillows, muting the sounds that you knew would have been heard by the neighbors otherwise.

Javier crashed into you again, stretching and filling you more with each thrust. He started slow, savoring the feeling of your walls clenching around him. The hand in your hair pulled your head back, releasing the sounds trapped in the pillow to mingle with Javier's moans. The hand at your waist wrapped around to find your clit, his calloused fingers teasing the delicate bud, and Javier leaned over to run his tongue up your spine, chasing the shivers he was causing.

The combination of sensations, his tongue on your skin, fingers on your clit, cock buried deep in your pussy, built you again toward orgasm. You rose up onto all fours, trying to find that angle you knew would hit your g-spot, and Javier seemed to understand. He began to thrust harder and faster, rushing toward the edge he had narrowly avoiding sailing over when his dick had been in your mouth. But this was better, so much better. Javier's untangled his hand from your hair and wrapped his arm around your chest, lifting you so you were on your knees and pressed flush against his back.

This was it, the perfect angle. A tumble of incoherent Spanish curses flew from your mouth as Javier reached up to squeeze your tit in his large hand.

"Fuck, Javi, right there," you mumbled in between breaths. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

"Cum for me, princesa," Javier growled into your ear. "I won't cum until you do."

Javier's tongue flicked along your neck and up toward your ear, where he nibbled lightly. He thrust, deep and strong, into your trembling pussy and you came, in a searing white light of ecstasy. You choked out your sounds of pleasure, unable to breathe properly. As your walls clenched around his cock, your orgasm rushing in waves against him, Javier could hold it no longer. With a groan, he fell apart, grunting your name over and over as his twitching member spasmed inside you.

The two of you held still for a moment, unwilling and unable to move. Finally, Javier slipped out of you, leaving you feeling cold and empty. It didn't last long, however. Javier laid on the bed and pulled you down with him, holding you close to his chest. You curled against him, relishing in the warmth of his skin against the cool breeze drifting in through the open window.

"I have to admit, this isn't how I thought my night would end," Javier said. You giggled, still high on the euphoria of your second orgasm. The dopamine that clouded your brain began to clear and you looked into Javier's face, the tension and worry absent and replaced with a languid look of satisfaction and pleasure.

And then you realized something that made you sit straight up in bed. "You bastard," you said accusingly, pointing a finger at Javier's chest. He dragged a hand across his face.

"Oh mierda, what did I do now?"

"You never even kissed me."

It was true. He hadn't. He'd been so preoccupied with tasting the rest of you he'd failed to do the one thing he actually desired most.

"Alright, that's a valid accusation," Javier said, dragging you back down and rolling on top of you, pinning you to the bed. "I am a bastard, a lucky one."

Finally, with one hand on your face and the other lacing his fingers in yours, Javier kissed you. A real, proper kiss, teeth scraping your bottom lip and tongue gliding along yours. He kissed you until he could hold his breath no longer and then came back for more, tasting of your orgasm and the shared cigarette. At last, he pulled away and buried his face in your neck.

You pulled the covers up and over the two of you. And then you wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding him to your chest as tightly as you could.

"Have any plans for tomorrow?" you asked.

Javier grinned into your shoulder. "Ready for round two already?"

"Only if we get to sleep in first."

"Anything for you, princesa."

[syubub]

YOONGI SOULMATE READING

Disclaimer~tarot is speculative and this is my interpretation of energy. Take it with a grain of salt.

Honey boi time. Strap down because this one is wild. Kinda. And soft. Really really soft. And a little creepy. Buckle in.

So for starters Yoon has a dark, royal blue color energy. It isn't as opaque as Koos was but it was very... thick? Like its not that it wasn't opaque from a lack of energy but rather that kinda had clear energy mixed in too?? It was really pretty and its kinda like the more you look at it the deeper it gets?

It was kinda like this but deeper? And it was almost reflective and "sparkly" idk put it was real pretty.

So first thing to note. Yoon is always easy for me to connect with so he didn't have any barriers put up or whatever so when I was going towards him he was in red flannel pj bottoms and I was like, "am I missing something?" But no. He was just being comfy I guess? Now usually when I connect with energy of a person there's this like eternal tree trunk rope colum thing of energy or something that I kinda follow and then there's little platforms that they're on? I always have my back facing the energy colum thing when I connect.

That was not the case this time. Yoon essentially led me to his side to face the energy trunk? And he was like, "its weird on this side, huh?" ??? Hello, sir. What the fuck. This to me hints that maybe he is also going out and consciously connecting to energies? Idk man. But I was like, "yeah, it is kinda weird" It only gets weirder.

Next I was facing yoon and I was like hey I want to read your soulmate and gave him like a big ole energy marble expecting that to kinda get the connection going but the only thing I heard from his soulmate was "I can't tell you" like shit. And then he dissolved my energy offering? Oki. And I essentially couldn't connect with his soulmate at all. Anyway, I floated off the little platform thing (that was real bizarre) and yoongi connected with me.

His soulmates energy wasn't present at all but I was told to continue any way. Now for in my opinion the creepiest part. So, keep in mind yoons is actively connected to me and I was like, "well, if your soulmate isn't here then please guide me to what deck I should use for their personality signifier and he pointed me to the fountain tarot.

I started shuffling and after I did one bridge shuffle and split it to do another one he was like, "hey, you're gonna get temperance reverse fyi" and I was like hahaha no. And he was like, "no. Listen to me. Bridge twice, hand shuffle twice and split into two. And you'll get temperance rev. Turn it ride side up when it comes out" I was like okay but you crazy. Tarot doesn't work like that

Guess what fucking came up? TEMPERANCE REVERSED when I tell you I freaked out I mean I fuckin freaked. I know it sounds made up or unbelievable and if I didn't see it happen I'd say its fake but FUCK DUDE. So i asked my pendulum if it should be reverse and it was like no, flips that shit. And I swear to God yoongi was laughing at me for being spooked like the smug ass that he is.

Now

First note I wrote was sagittarius energy. This person has sagittarius energy. Yep yep yep. This person balances him out. Temperance is the card of sagittarius. Heavy fire influence in the cart.

Oki now onto personality explained. I got 3 of coins, the heirophant, ace of wands and the magician. This person is very spiritual and has been manifesting him (they’ve manesfesting eachother but I'll get to that later?) This is a person that values knowledge and is very creative and has a lot of quick ideas. This person also really values communication of knowledge. Loves to get it loves to share it. Probably the person that can tell you a stupid fact about almost anything.

We also have networked, storyteller, god and mentor. This is someone who loves to teach people about what they've learned. They like to share the wisdom (with the god card im inclined to say that they share spiritual wisdom but I don't see it as a career?) This person values communication and collecting knowledge.

Now, on to relationship. We have wheel of fortune, justice, ace of wands and the lovers. This relationship has been in the works on a spiritual level for a long time. They’ve been actively manifesting eachother. We know Yoon is at least a little psychic so this makes sense. This relationship is founded in balance. They treat eachother as equals. I also wrote, "certainly something devine". They have a witty rapport and its so so so loving! They have really good communication and respect for eachother! They are also good at keeping eachither accountable.

Now for this person's career. They’ve been going through a change so their career is undecided. There was likely a period of depression that put a pause on their career? But there's also the queen of coins which suggests that they will be making good money. Now, I chose 3 clarity cards on the queen of coins to help me figure out where this money will be coming from and I drew three more coin cards so this means this person is on the cusp of making some good money soon!

Now we have answer the call, awakening and share your voice. They are being called to be together. Again yoon is woke af and apparently so is his soulmate. The picture i get is like when they finally meet they're both a little shy because they've been connecting with eachothers energies and they're like, "whos gonna bring it up?" Like they are finally out of hiding when they meet. Its cute as fuck.

Oki. We have answered prayers, spiritual path and make time for self care. THEY ARE MANIFESTING EACHOTHER. They are a woke pair and the energy is so sturdy and solid. I also get the sense that they engage in self care together? Like they'll make sure to take care of themselves spiritual and physical. I also think that they would be that type of couple to have a mad bath bomb collection.

Side note: while I was doing this I got like a cute little picture in my head of them sitting on the couch in pj's and facemasks with towels on their heads sipping wine and that makes me soft.

Now onto the message from his soulmate cards. So we have release all anger, new idea, be positive, take a shot, Have you eaten? You're acting like a big ass baby and shit is going down with your job. Now. I made a note that this is from Yoon to his soulmate? Um, sir? But oki, yoon makes the rules. What I get from this is that his soulmate is currently going through some job related stuff and he's saying, "hey, its okay to start over. Do that thing you've been wanting to do for a while" he wants his soulmate to stop focusing on what isn't going right and just start fresh. I also lowkey think he's like, you need to just fucking chill. The world isn't imploding just because something isn't working out. Its very reassuring and it feels like he wants to comfort them. Cute

Let's talk about the descriptors now. Yoon was very picky with these? Which confused me. They don't know eachother in person is the vibe im getting and I don't think yoon has ever seen this person either? I think maybe he's had dreams of his soulmate? Idk but the cards are: quality time, fashionable, unique, free spirit, independent, short hair, younger, sweet, charming. I also made a note for brown hair and a masculine chart.

For my little word cards we have, fate, vows, serendipity and loyalty. WE GET IT. YOURE ADORABLE TOGETHER

"All men should learn before they die, what they are running from and to and why" is the little fortune. I think that this is yoon telling his soulmate to do some shadow work? Like find out why you do the things you do, why certain things anger you ect.

Now at this point I was told that I had to use the small deck to get more cards about the relationship. I was like "I already did that but whatever" and I did. I pulled 10 of cups, 2 of cups and the lovers again. WHAT. THE. FUCK. This is the most romantic and soulmatey soulmate reading ever. 10 of cups is emotional fulfillment. This is just everything. Everything! 2 of cups is romance, unified love. Its also about partnership. They work so well together. And the lovers card. Love, relationships and harmony. Oh my god its fucking nuts.

Now onto the final card. Again. Very very very clearly told that this is for his soulmate. We have, the perfection of your life. This card talks about a spiritual storm coming to shake things up in order to put things to put things back in perfect order. A quote I like from the book is, "all is unfolding to a perfect higher order." This to me kinda sums it up well. Shit is about to get crazy for his soulmate and its not a bad thing. Change is need for this person and there is change coming that will stir every thing up and place it back in better places. Ugh. I can't. He wants his soulmate not to fear the storm but rather embrace it and know that positive change will come out of it.

Last part. When the reading is over I always disconnect and essentially put the energy back? This time on yoons little platform (I sound like a lunatic trying to describe some of this shit I swear) I was like, "hey thanks for being cooperative and being so active and involved i appreciate that." And then he gave me an energy marble ball thing too? I was like, "thanks but what the fuck" and then I did what he did when I gave him the marble ball energy thing in the beginning and just... put it in my energy? Like thats what he did? so is that like an energy custom that I don't know about? Wtf. My best guess is that I gave him an offering of energy and he gave me some in return at the end? And then the little shit just dissappears? MIN YOONGI I HAVE QUESTIONS YOU CAN'T JUST DISSAPPEAR??

But he did. And that was the end. It was super fucking bizarre. So for say joo I connected to his soulmate through him. So it was a connection with the soulmate but hosted by joons energy? For Jk his soulmate gave me a direct link which was new and awesome but for Yoongi it was just a very direct connection with him. Just him.

That really tells me that he knows his soulmate well on a soul level and his soulmate literally said, "I can't tell you"

I'm confused but very happy for him!

Yoon is a very soft and sweet man, pass it on

[dinosaurtsukki]

twenty shots of espresso | a barista!kageyama x gn!reader fanfic

pairing: barista!kageyama x gn!reader

word count: 3.8k words

contains: coffeeshop au kinda fluff, shy kageyama, y/n ordering weird drinks, university au, akaashi keiji as a store manager

summary: on kageyama’s first day as a barista, he encounters you, a very tired student, who ends up ordering twenty shots of espresso. he doesn’t know what to do except deliver

a/n: i wanted to write some fluff and i was inspired by that tumblr post about starbucks baristas encountering customers with really bizarre orders. also i love shy and confused kageyama UwU

“and that’s pretty much all you need to know,” akaashi, the current manager of the on-campus, student-run cafe ‘beanies,’ and kageyama’s new boss, said after wiping his hands on a paper towel. 

“always keep an eye on the register. refill the coffee beans regularly. if you think that there’s enough ice, there’s probably not enough ice,” kageyama recited the most poignant pieces of information akaashi gave him.

“good, you’re all set,” akaashi gave a small smile of encouragement. “sorry to leave you alone on your first day but unfortunately, my groupmates need some kind of adult supervision for them to actually do something,” he rolled his eyes as he removed his apron and cap before hanging them neatly in the employees only room.

“it’s fine,” kageyama shrugged one shoulder. he was pretty confident in his ability to remember things and follow instructions and (hopefully) not panic, though, not as confident when it came to having to ‘greet the customers warmly’. ‘i hope that doesn’t matter too much. especially when it comes to getting tips,’ he thought as akaashi returned with his backpack.

“well, i’m off. if anyone asks for a manager just say you’re the manager,” he said, waving once before leaving the cafe.

luckily for kageyama, his first ever shift was during that two-hour downtime in the late morning when everyone was still either in class or actually going someplace to eat. the few customers who came in just ordered iced americanos or a slice of cake. ‘i could actually get used to this,’ kageyama thought as he washed the knife he used to slice cake.

but of course, that’s exactly when things tend to go awry.

“welcome to beanies. may i have your order?” kageyama asked, looking down at the cash register machine, partly because he still didn’t know how to interact with customers and partly because he just wanted to type up their order quickly.

“twenty shots of espresso.”

“alright. twenty sh-- what?” kageyama looked up in surprise as the order actually registered in his brain. he expected that the customer ordering what was probably satan’s regular starbucks order would look like a denizen of hell. or maybe, someone with a smirk on their face and probably a phone held up for some tiktok trend that kageyama didn’t know about but probably involved pranking baristas. instead, he was faced with what appeared to be a very tired, very haggard looking student. your hair was a mess and sticking up in all sorts of angles that kageyama didn’t even know hair could do, as if you had just rolled out of bed and jumped straight into a roller-coaster. in addition, he was ninety-percent sure that you were wearing a hoodie over your pajamas. 

whatever it was, kageyama was very unprepared for this. nothing in the employee manual or akaashi’s short training session included having to deal with customers who ordered twenty shots of espresso. kageyama was just going to have to wing this.

“ma’am/sir, twenty shots of espresso would be extremely expensive.”

“i’ve been locked in my room for three days eating nothing but microwaved chicken nuggets,” you rasped. “i happen to have enough money for it. that should all fit in the regular-sized cup, right?” 

“mathematically, yes,” kageyama slowly. “but i highly don’t recommend it. the taste would just be...”

“awful. i am aware,” you nodded. kageyama struggled with trying to remain calm or unshaken by this customer who was more than likely not human. although, the expression on your face suggested that you were unshaken. 

“the... health concerns. and twenty shots of espresso are going to take ages to make,” he said, trying to make one final attempt at dissuading you.

“i’ve got time,” you smiled. “and if another customer comes in, feel free to make their drink first.”

“but… but… alright.”

kageyama had no other excuses to give. resigned, he picked up a regular cup and wrote twenty shots on the side before stating how much your drink would cost. you paid for it all in full and waited patiently by the side of the counter as kageyama prepared your drink. the hardest part about the drink was the terribly long waiting time while the cup was filling up with the super-concentrated coffee that was meant to be consumed one or two shots at a time. during those waiting times, kageyama tried to work out exactly how deadly twenty shots of espresso was.

‘the last time i drank two espresso shots i accidentally served a ball into the ceiling, yelled at a vending machine, yelled at a lamp post for being ‘too bright’ and crashed two hours later by sleeping on a bench. in what world would they need that much caffeine?’ his thoughts raced.

finally, he had a pretty full cup of twenty espresso shots. with careful hands, he handed the cup to you and you smiled gratefully when you accepted it. 

“um, enjoy?” he said, phrasing it as more of a question.

“oh, thank god,” you sighed with relief as you accepted the cup from him, like a mother holding their newly-born child. 

 “wouldn’t you like some milk or sugar added to that?” kageyama nervously asked. just smelling the twenty espresso shots made his heart palpitate and his taste buds sweat. “maybe some steamed milk? it’s on the house,” he added, hoping that it would sway you. 

you chuckled and went over to the add-ons table. kageyama prayed you would add something like a few packs of sugar at least. instead, you added three packets of cinnamon into your monstrosity of an espresso drink. he watched with undisguised horror on his face as you brought the cup to your mouth and took a long drink from it.

“ahhh, that hits multiple spots,” you sighed, licking your lips. “oh, almost forgot,” you scurried back to the counter with your cup. kageyama didn’t even know what to expect from you at this point but blinked in surprise when he saw you slip a few bills into the tip box. “thanks for the coffee,” you smiled, as if you hadn’t just downed your recommended daily caffeine intake in one go, and left the cafe. 

a few hours later, akaashi returned to a very shaken kageyama. “why? did something happen?” he asked, surprised that the new employee he hired specifically for his unflappable nature looked, for the better word, very much ‘flapped’. 

“someone... someone just ordered twenty shots of espresso,” he muttered. 

akaashi felt himself gasp. and he never gasped. he knew it was a mistake to leave kageyama alone. “so... what did you do?”

“i... gave them twenty espresso shots,” he said. akaashi swallowed.

“did they at least leave a tip?”

...

kageyama spent ages thinking about you, mostly in the concerned sense. during all of his shifts, he’d find himself looking up at the sound of the door opening, only to be slightly disappointed when he saw it wasn’t you. sometimes, he’d even wonder if you had been hospitalized from drinking all of that espresso and worried about what specific degree of murder he eventually participated in. ‘i mean, the customers do have a right to order whatever they want but won’t i also be blamed for actually making that twenty-shot espresso?’ kageyama found himself wondering. 

the second time you came in, he stood up so abruptly that you were a bit startled when you stepped into the shop. “w-welcome to beanies,” kageyama stammered. the other customers, and akaashi, who was thankfully working that day, looked at him in surprise. kageyama very rarely greeted customers who came in.

“hello yourself,” you smiled at him. kageyama blinked at you, searching for any sign that you had been hospitalized from caffeine overdose. unlike before, you definitely looked to be in a much better state. for once, you were actually wearing regular clothes instead of pajamas and you didn’t look like you rolled out of bed.

“is... something wrong?” you asked.  

“oh, no. sorry,” kageyama cleared his throat. “what will your order for today be?”

“a regular iced americano please,” you answered.

“alright,” kageyama let out a little sigh of relief as he typed in your order. maybe you were capable of ordering normal drinks after all. “any add-ons?”

and that’s where he made his mistake.

“how about twenty pumps of hazelnut syrup and twenty pumps of that vanilla syrup,” you added. 

“twenty... twenty pumps each of hazelnut and vanilla syrup,” kageyama repeated, looking at you wearily. “are you absolutely sure about that?”

“absolutely,” you said, nodding with conviction. 

at this point, kageyama abandoned almost all attempts at being a caring but generally neutral café employee. “that’s going to be terribly sweet. toothachingly sweet. there are customers who’ve only ordered half-pumps of syrup because it’s too sweet.”

“then i guess my drink will be eighty-times sweeter than the regular drink,” you said with a glitter in your eye. you didn’t look like you needed all that sugar, unlike that time you first came in. you were clearly out for a good time and that good time meant downing a shit ton of syrup. kageyama gave up because there was absolutely no dissuading you.

“alright then,” he said, writing your order down a cup before passing it to akaashi who had just finished washing the pile of blenders and cups at the sink. he took one glance at the drink before looking up at kageyama with wide eyes.

“no.”

“yes,” you grinned from the other side of the counter. akaashi swallowed and looked at the order on the cup, then at you, then at kageyama, who gave the slightest nod of his head, before finally starting to make it.

kageyama didn’t quite want to look at akaashi, who was pumping the handle for the syrup as if he was giving someone CPR, and decided to watch you while you lingered by the glass display case of pastries and cake with your hands in your pockets while waiting for the drink. unfortunately for him, kageyama’s stare had always been intense enough for people to notice he was staring.

“what?”

“wh-- I,” he stammered, caught off-guard by you turning to look at him. kageyama felt his cheeks burn and prayed that akaashi was done with your drink but he was still pumping syrup and muttering under his breath. “i was just... wondering how you were still alive,” he said honestly.

“oh, after that espresso drink?” you cocked your head to the side. “that was like ten shots, right?”

“twenty!” kageyama exclaimed.

“is that so?” you laughed. “well, if you must know, i had pulled off two all-nighters in a row and had to do my exams so, naturally, i needed caffeine.”

“yeah, but, twenty?” kageyama emphasized. “didn’t you, like, collapse at some point.”

“i actually have no memory of those days,” you sighed wistfully. “according to some people, i was shaking the entire time while taking my exams and i passed out under a tree and that a campus guard woke me up. some of them said that i was talking to the pigeons but i don’t know how reliable that source is,” you laughed. kageyama found himself chuckling at the story.

“order up. one americano with... twenty pumps of vanilla and twenty pumps of hazelnut for y/n,” akaashi said, passing the cup to kageyama. he couldn’t help but glance at the abomination that was your coffee order. since the syrup always went first into the cup, it had settled in the bottom even after akaashi stirred the whole thing. from there, kageyama could clearly see that the ratio between americano to syrup was probably 3:4.

“h-here you go,” he swallowed, handing the cup to you with a straw. you took your drink from him but gave the straw back.

“are you sure you don’t want, i don’t know, maybe a little more coffee?” akaashi asked. kageyama had only known the cafe manager for a short period of time and knew instantly that akaashi wasn’t the type of person who was so easily shaken by customers.

“this is good. thanks!” you smiled before proceeding to open the lid and down at least half of the drink. kageyama felt his mouth hang open while akaashi gave a short gasp beside him.

“how... how is it?” kageyama asked hesitantly. he watched you smack your lips together.

“sweet.” 

“i can imagine so,” akaashi said. 

“thanks again,” you smiled, stopping by the cashier again to drop a tip before leaving the cafe. it was silent for a while before akaashi spoke up.

“you know, those forty pumps of syrup weren’t actually that hard to do. it’s all about the wrist movement really. so, i must say...” akaashi paused and put a hand over his mouth. “that was one of the funniest fucking things i’ve ever witnessed.”

...

soon enough, you turned into a regular customer at the cafe and every time kageyama thought you would run out of ideas for what outlandish drink to order, you exceeded his expectations again. it became more of like a game to you with kageyama egging you on instead of trying to hold you back. “so i’ll have five espresso shots with ice and five pumps of the caramel syrup.” “just that? you had eight shots last time.” “fine, eight then!”

even akaashi joined in on the fun and even looked forward to whenever you’d come in. while he worked on your drink, kageyama would talk to you while you lingered by the counter. he quickly learned that you were quite the chatty type and always had something new to talk about when you came in: the weird things your roommate did, your comparative analysis on the different types of instant ramen, and that one time you found a single airpod in the middle of the park. kageyama was more of the type to nod and listen, not that he minded, and he’d often find himself laughing at your stories.

it was actually akaashi, the ever-perceptive co-worker whose expert, Manager Eye didn’t miss the tiniest of details: from the amount of paper napkins per table to the earnest smile on kageyama’s face whenever you came in, who picked up on the tension between you two first. and as much as he loved pumping boatloads of syrup into your drink orders, he also kind of wanted kageyama to make his move already.

“ooh, you guys are hopping onto the bubble tea trend too,” you said, humming with amusement as you perused the new menu.

“believe me, that was not out of free will,” kageyama sighed, remembering how many orders for brown sugar bubble tea he received on that day alone, as well as the new task of having to cook the pearls every morning before they opened.

“hmmm, let’s see. what can i do with this,” you smiled to yourself and tucked your hair behind your ear. kageyama couldn’t help but feel drawn to the excitement on your face. “i know! how about your regular house milk tea with ten add-ons of pearls.”

“ten?” kageyama felt a smirk curl on his face. you narrowed your eyes at him but grinned nonetheless.

“i mean, twenty.”

“alright. regular house milk tea with twenty portions of extra pearls. is that all?”

“let’s make it fun and add two servings of that milk foam,” you said.

“good choice,” kageyama grinned as he wrote the order on the side of your cup. this time, instead of handing it to akaashi, he proceeded to make your drink himself. akaashi went on with his task of refilling the coffee grinder with new beans, once in a while noting how kageyama’s fingers would drum on the counter, bringing attention to his nervousness. on the other side of the counter, you were watching kageyama with an expectant expression on your face akaashi looked up at the ceiling and sighed softly. ‘there are just some things i have to do myself,’ he thought.

luckily, the opportunity came in the form of another customer.

“kageyama,” akaashi called to his co-worker. “i’ll finish that up for you,” 

“oh, uh...” there was conflict evident on kageyama’s face and akaashi had to stop himself from smiling. kageyama wanted to make your drink but he also wanted to follow his store manager’s orders. “sure, i’ll take this one,” he finally relented, passing the cup that was alread half-filled with tapioca pearls to akaashi before attending to the customer. 

while kageyama was occupied, akaashi added the tea into the cup before topping it off with milk foam. and, just before pressing the plastic seal, wrote down kageyama’s phone number on the side of the cup. 

“caramel frappe with an extra pump of syrup,” kageyama muttered to himself.

“i’ll take that,” akaashi smiled, plucking the order receipt from his hands before he could protest. “go and give y/n their abomination drink.” 

“sure!” kageyama nodded, a little bit enthusiastically. he took the cup from akaashi, giving it a little shake before handing the drink over to you. he didn’t notice his own number written on the side.

“here’s your drink that’s pretty much fifty-percent tapioca pearls,” kageyama handed it to you.

“hah, i had a mental image of how this would look like but actually seeing it takes the cake,” you laughed as you shook your cup, admiring the layers of milk foam, tea, and tapioca pearls. 

“you know, this is probably the weirdest-looking drink you’ve ordered,” kageyama snorted as he watched you admire your drink. 

“i know, it looks alien almost,” you chuckled. “well, time to try it out.” you took your straw and attempted to poke a hole in the plastic seal only for the plastic to stubbornly stay in place.

“oh, the plastic is a bit on the stronger and stubborn side. here, let me,” kageyama wrapped his hand around yours to take the straw before poking it into your drink with an expert flick of his wrist. it was only then that he realized that his hands had touched yours and that he didn’t quite ask for permission.

“i, um... sorry about that,” he stammered, backing away a bit.

“no, it’s perfectly alright!” you shook your head before taking a cautious sip of your fifty-percent tapioca pearl drink. as expected, you got a mouthful of tapioca pearls. kageyama snickered at the look on your face but kept watching with undivided attention as you tried not to laugh while chewing through all of the pearls for what felt like ages. meanwhile, akaashi watched the two of you from behind the counter, knowing full well that you and kageyama were a perfect match.

“how is it?” he asked, breaking the silence after you had swallowed all of the pearls. you can tell by the look of his mouth that he was trying very hard not to laugh. 

“it has... a very... unique texture,” you said slowly, stifling your own laugh. you never thought that a trip to the local cafe to buy a fuck ton of espresso to get you through a few days of school stress would lead you to falling for the cute, dark-haired barista and to this moment now: ordering a drink with fifty-percent tapioca pearls and chewing a mouthful of them in front of your crush.

“maybe if you shake it you’ll get some of the actual milk tea drink this time,” kageyama suggested.

“that’s not a bad idea,” you nodded, looking down at your cup and giving it a few shakes, careful not to spill the contents. it was only then that you saw akaashi’s sneaky addition to your cup. right beside your name and ‘+20 extra pearls’, was a number. more specifically, a phone number. you felt your jaw drop and the blood rush to your face.

“what? something wrong?” kageyama asked. “too many pearls?”

“well, that’s what i ordered,” you laughed nervously. “not... an extra phone number.”

“a, ph-phone number?” kageyama stammered, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up when you showed him your cup. “th-thats, my...” he felt his voice catch in his throat at the sight of the number that was undeniably his. meanwhile, the culprit, akaashi, smiled to himself as he served the next customer their caramel frappe. kageyama quickly caught on to what his manager did but knew, deep down, that he was unable to confront akaashi about it right now. 

and besides, was that a hopeful look on your face? kageyama knew that he scored pretty low when it came to emotional intelligence, but even he could see that. 

“yes, it is,” he said decisively. to him, it felt just like that moment when it was his turn to serve and he was deciding which part of the court he was going to send the ball to. 

at that, you felt your eyes widen and your grip on your cup tightened. was the cute barista that you had consistently ordered weird drinks from, partly out of curiosity and partly because it just became Your Thing, kind of asking you out?

“i, wrote it down, because i want to get to know you a bit better,” kageyama said slowly. “hopefully, not just over weird drinks that you order here?”

you let out a chuckle at that last part and kageyama got the hint that he was doing quite well. akaashi secretly grinned to himself at a job well done. “well, you know me,” you shrugged. “i don’t exactly mind extras with my drink order.”

“i, what?” kageyama blinked, puzzled.

“they mean that they liked you giving their number,” akaashi called out to him. kageyama felt himself flush with embarrassment. 

“yes, that,” you laughed. “um, i have a three-hour lecture and then another class to get to right now. i can text you right after?” 

“sure! sure, sure!” kageyama said, a bit too enthusiastically but at this point, he was too happy to care. 

“alright,” you nodded brightly. “i guess i’ll head out now. and... finish this,” you held up your cup. “text you later, kageyama.”

“yeah... later,” he grinned as he watched you leave. he was still grinning when akaashi appeared beside him with his arms crossed.

“i’m not going to apologize for writing your number on the cup,” akaashi said. kageyama rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“i guess, i should thank you, then?” he swallowed, glancing at the store manager from the corner of his eye. akaashi smiled.

“you can thank me by making sure you text them right back,” he said. 

“will do,” kageyama nodded.

he spent the rest of the day checking and re-checking his phone, especially during his breaks at volleyball practice. it was completely written on kageyama’s face that he was expecting something, but they knew that asking him would just incur his wrath. 

finally, your class ended, and you grabbed your phone before staring at the screen, wondering what exactly you should text. 

and then, kageyama heard the notification from his phone and opened your message quicker than he opened any other text he received. 

from: unknown number

my jaw hurts from chewing all those pearls. i have made a Mistake

kageyama laughed out loud as he typed out his reply. you guys would get along just fine

taglist (still open to anyone who wants in): @montys-chaos​ @miyumtwins​ @strawberriimilkshake​ @pocubo​ @sugawara-sweetheart@akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan@therainroguefanfiction@atetiffdoesart@stephdaninja@oikaw-ugh @charliefredb @dramaqueenweeb1469@tremblinghearts @applepienation

[songofclarity]

For a character who was the catalyst for all the events of the novel WRH got way too little attention and show time in the novel heck we don't even get a face off between him and the protagonists. To me if JGS was a pig in a golden pigsty, JGY a sneaky fox, and XY a rabid dog, then WRH was a mighty dragon. He had all the makings of an amazing villain but that potential was wasted and imo that is one of mdzs' greatest flaws

Mighty dragon Wen RuoHan is so true, Anon!

The spoiled pig in the golden pigsty came out on top after the Sunshot Campaign. He had all the money, a beautiful family, and an intact sect, and yet he wanted all the power left in Wen RuoHan’s wake--as if the world hadn’t fought for three years to get rid of the original.

The treacherous snake who cuddled up to others to steal their warmth and yet bit to kill at the first sign of movement. He acted like that warmth was his due and he had no choice but to bite. Surely the actions of others would either do him harm or leave him cold! He tricked Wen RuoHan into believing their scales meant they were similar, but he only ever dreamed of being a pig in that golden pigsty. (There is a connotation of mischief and charm with “sneaky fox” that does not fit Jin GuangYao in my mind lol)

The rabid dog who was used to being beaten and yet would accept a warm bed and a dish of food from any kind hand. He won’t bite the hand that feeds him but he will absolutely maul anyone who threatens that warm bed and new home he found--or anyone who looks like an easy target for some fun and games.

And then there is the mighty dragon!

I've been trying to respond to this ask for a few days because I agree and yet I also kind of disagree on that last point. I find it hard to say Wen RuoHan’s potential was wasted because it’s his potential to do harm that kept the Sunshot Campaign alive but also his lesser-discussed potential to be influenced towards doing good that could have prevented a lot of grief. Although he didn’t get a lot of page time, his importance to the story is practically on par with Wei WuXian himself and he continues to exist as a specter of evil even after he is dead.

This quote comes to mind during empathy:

On Koi Tower, people came and went. Before Nie MingJue's high viewpoint, the crowd parted again and again, with both sides nodding at him in respect, calling him "ChiFeng-Zun." Wei WuXian thought, Such a show of extravagance is going to reach even the heavens. All these people both fear and respect Nie MingJue. There's quite a few people who fear me, though not a lot who respect me. (Ch. 49 ERS)

One of the major conflicts in MDZS is based on one question: who gets to be the next Wen RuoHan after the Sunshot Campaign? And the sane answer is that it should be nobody. The Sects are independent entities who should take care of themselves and work in cooperation without controlling each other. The Wen Sect was never actually in charge of the other sects so it’s quite twisted for the Chief Cultivator position to be created in the wake of Wen RuoHan’s death. Wen RuoHan is still a catalyst for events even after he is murdered!

More so, when people were saying they hoped Wen Qing would one day take over as Sect Leader Wen because she had a normal way of doing things, it’s because Wen RuoHan calling the former Sect Leader Nie over to passive-aggressively slap his saber a few times and tell him it is a good saber is just bizarre. Of course Wen Qing’s ways of doing things are normal!

Compare Wen Qing being angry:

"If you really are grateful then put in some effort! What [the] hell kind of medicine did you just make? Brew it again!" (Ch. 60 ERS)

To Wen RuoHan:

And, thus, Wen RuoHan wasn't pleased anymore...

Wen RuoHan laughed after he heard. “Are you sure about that? Well, I want to see.” (Ch. 49, ERS)

But back to the scene at Koi Tower, it’s funny that the one closest to becoming Wen RuoHan is quite possibly Nie MingJue, the one now respected and feared, the one who fought the most against Jin GuangShan creating the Chief Cultivator seat. Why did Jin GuangShan create the Chief Cultivator seat? Because no one was ever going to respect him or to listen to him, much less respect him and fear his power to let him do whatever he pleased. But even then, Nie MingJue had to travel to Koi Tower to point Baxia while he made his demands. Jin GuangShan and Jin GuangYao had to murder and lie and scheme to get what they wanted. Wei WuXian had to figuratively set himself on fire. Wen RuoHan simply had to call his target of his ire over and he came, and then he let fate run its course.

Wei WuXian, Nie MingJue, Jin GuangShan, Jin GuangYao--none of them ever held even a fraction of the power wielded by Wen RuoHan. A power shown when Lan XiChen and a bunch of other juniors looked at the waterborne abyss and didn’t even dare to speak the name of the Qishan Wen aloud. Our spoiled pig and even rabid dog look to demonic cultivation to gain that fear element since they lack the wow factors of a powerful cultivator. Wei WuXian and Nie MingJue end up dead because a spoiled pig and a treacherous snake want their golden pigsty to go uncontested.

So it’s hard to speak of Wen RuoHan not meeting his potential when all the Sects left in his wake never achieve a fraction of what Wen RuoHan had. And even then, at no point in the story does Wen RuoHan ever wake up in the morning and pick murder, although the same cannot be said for the likes of Wen Chao, Jin GuangYao, Xue Yang, and even Wei WuXian.

So what I’m getting at here is that despite Wen RuoHan’s lack of appearances, we learn a lot about him through other characters trying to either work for or against him or emulate him. And he does face off against one of our protagonists: Nie MingJue! Although that we don’t get to see their first fight in Yangquan when Nie MingJue was fresh is truly frustrating!

Because even though we do get a Wen RuoHan face-off with a protagonist, it’s his assassination that gets all the attention--and it’s because Nie MingJue avoids talking about traumatic experiences and Jin GuangYao already got what he wanted from that event. The mural at Koi Tower immortalizing the assassination of Wen RuoHan is a snapshot of the heroic Jin GuangYao taking out the Big Bad in a glorious moment. It was also, however, a huge red flag that Jin GuangYao is willing to murder someone who gave him respect, protection, and empowerment so long as he could use their blood to pave his road ahead.

I do have to wonder on the degree of Wen RuoHan’s villainy when he didn’t even bother to take the life of his son’s killer and he passed on the opportunity to torture him, too. But no one in the story talks about Wen RuoHan as a person. They talk about Sect Leader Wen as a symbol, and he becomes a symbol of evil.

Everyone becomes so focused on Wen RuoHan as the Big Bad that for all the crimes the spoiled pig and the treacherous snake perpetrate, the majority of the cultivation world responds with, “If this [evil act and/or abuse of power] was done by the Wen Sect, we would be really concerned. Since the people doing it are not-Wens, it can’t be evil and thus we can allow it to happen.”

And thus the Jin get away with doing a lot of evil. Lan XiChen can look at Jin GuangYao and say, “he has his reasons,” because Lan XiChen has been victimized by the Wens and Jin GuangYao murdered Wen RuoHan so surely there is a divide there between good and evil, right and wrong. This is a very convenient way for letting the Jin get away with doing a lot of bad things! Wei WuXian rescuing the Wen Remants, meanwhile, places him conveniently within the Wen-Sect-Is-Bad camp, and we all know how that goes.

So I do agree that Wen RuoHan had all the potential to become a great villain, not just because he has all the power and followers that let him do whatever he wanted but also because the cultivation world sold us the story of him being a monstrous villain who loved blood and torture. But when the other sects create an uprising against the Wen Sect and label it the Sunshot Campaign, not once does Wen RuoHan try to subdue them. Not once does Wen RuoHan ever turn to violence and punishment or slaughter. He had the potential to be a great villain and stomp on all of them! But he doesn’t.

And I don’t think that’s because his potential went unmet. That’s just his character. He is an antagonist with the potential to become a great villain and yet he stays his hand. His power instead draws villains to him like flies to honey. There’s a reason people wear their time spent as a guest cultivator of the Wen Sect with pride! Wen RuoHan is good to his Sect. The perks and benefits cannot be matched.

But it’s not only the dregs of society that come to the Wen Sect and abuse its power. Wen RuoHan has three morally distinct people closest to him that reveal that he has the potential to be well-rounded:

Wen Qing: speaks her mind, a doctor, refuses to kill, intelligent, talented in the liberal arts, accompanies Wen RuoHan to discussion conferences, pays her debts, won’t die for the main branch which is just an alternative of her don’t-kill policy which is don’t-die-for-stupid-shit-customs policy

Wen ZhuLiu: loyal to a fault, dedicated, obedient, was told to protect Wen Chao and does his job incredibly well because this is how he pays his debt to Wen RuoHan for saving him, doesn’t do anything unnecessary, doesn’t speak unnecessary words

Meng Yao: loyal only to himself at the end of the day, prideful, hardworking, scheming, ambitious, supports petty revenge, pro-murder, stabs as a warning, will sell you to satan for one corn chip, does not acknowledge owing debts to anyone but has the receipts on what others owe him

All three characters are respected for their talents and effectively do as Wen RuoHan tells them. Wen Qing leaves for the Yiling Supervisory Office and takes her rational mind with her. Wen ZhuLiu leaves to protect Wen Chao and leaves Wen RuoHan undefended. Meng Yao makes himself useful in Nightless City and thus stays closest to Wen RuoHan’s side. So who is the one speaking in Wen RuoHan’s ear the most? The one saying murder is OK so take revenge.

And even then Wen RuoHan still doesn’t take his revenge, I’m just saying.

But what I’m trying to get at on this scenic route is that Wen RuoHan is left with all this wonderful potential for a reason. Not only do we see his potential but other characters see it, too. His potential is turned into someone else’s profit. Nie MingJue claims that Wen Qing should have spoken up more, which implies Wen RuoHan has the potential for change or even to do good. The majority, however,  persist on not just his potential but his status as a great evil. The characters in the story make Wen RuoHan into the penultimate evil by a post-war consensuses. With that, the ceiling is pushed so high that other evils are able to bloom in the glass house they’ve made.

“Whatever we do can never be as bad as what Wen RuoHan and the Wen Sect did,” the cultivation world says as they let a mass murderer run rampant, as people are used for demonic cultivation test subjects, as prisoners of war are beaten and killed, as a dozen women are raped and murdered for petty revenge, as brother betrays brother, as a father murders his innocent son for political gain, as juniors are kidnapped and used as bait...

So absolutely Wen RuoHan was a catalyst for many events because people either wanted to be him, have him in their fighting corner, or kill him. He perpetuated events by wanting to correct the cultivation world as he saw fit by indoctrinating juniors in the Wen Sect ways or by setting up supervisory offices to prevent rebellious behavior. He delegated these tasks which put people in positions of power that they only saw fit to abuse.

But Wen RuoHan’s potential to be a great villain competes with his inherent lack of interest in causing death and destruction. I think that makes him not just a compelling antagonist compared to all the others but a fascinating character in general. Considering MDZS gets praised for all its morally grey characters, I don’t think Wen RuoHan should be left out of the conversation.

[kellanswritingblog]

Day 2 of @martim-may: Corridors

Where Tim and Martin go for a fun date in an escape room and run into an old “friend”

“Come on, Tim, we’re not going to make it in time! Stop messing about and help me with this puzzle!”

Tim sighed, got up from the faux blood-spattered chair, and sauntered over to Martin as the timer ticked down, the final seconds disappearing and eliminating their only hope of escape.

“The code is 4413.”

Martin wanted to ask how he knew, but there wasn’t time. He punched in the combination on the number pad and, suddenly, the blaring siren and the flashing lights ceased. The judgmental timer on the wall turned off its omniscient gaze and the door clicked open.

“How did you know that?”  Martin cried.

“It was on the inside of the drawer, from, like, the second puzzle.”

“Oh… Yeah, it sure was.  You know I get flustered under time pressure.”

Tim tugged on Martin’s sleeve so that they were close together.  “I know that’s not the only way you get flustered.”

Martin blushed, then stammered, “We probably shouldn’t be doing this in the middle of the escape room.  The door is open, we can go, and you can make me flustered somewhere with more privacy.”

“Oh, I suppose.”  

All the same, Tim pressed a teasing kiss to Martin’s lips and Martin couldn’t help but reach out and gently pull on Tim’s shirt to close the small gap between them.

“Hello there!  I’m interrupting something, I’m so sorry.”

The pair was jolted from their kisses by a new voice. Martin leapt backwards from Tim’s embrace, and they both turned to face the person who had spoken to them.  The yellow door behind them was immediately apparent.

“Michael!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair in a second,” he said casually.  “I just had to know: how did you find my escape maze?”

Tim narrowed his eyes at Michael.  “This is all you?  The escape rooms and the trick hallways and the elaborate puzzles?”

“I mean, it’s not me like some of my corridors. This is a proper, accredited, and licensed escape room.”

“And if you just happen to whisk a few people away, well, then that’s fine,” Martin spat.

With a shrug, Michael replied, “I don’t take too many people, that’s bad for business!  And this is a real business, after all, I just happen to skim off the top occasionally.”  His laugh echoed around the room and crawled down Tim and Martin’s spines.  “As such, I need customers, both for the finances and for, well, me.  Which brings me back to my original question: how did you like it?  Was it terrifying?  Mind-boggling?”

“Are we going to be free to go if we answer?”

“Of course!  I’m not going to eat you two, for old time’s sake.”

Under his breath, Tim muttered, “Is that what we’re calling it?”

Martin decided to actually answer the question so that Michael might leave them alone.  “It was alright.  I’ve been to better, but I’ve also been to worse.”

Michael smiled.  “I’ll take it!  Your opinion means quite a lot.  Thank you for your visit, boys, and please remember to leave us a review online!”

With that, Michael spun on his heel and disappeared back through his yellow door.  Martin and Tim glanced back at each other.

“I know we were in the middle of something, but I think it can wait,” Tim said, and Martin nodded.

“Yeah, we don’t want to stay here any longer in case he changes his mind.”

Hand in hand, they exited the room and left down an unnecessarily long and bizarrely decorated hallway, half expecting the benign looking waiting room at the end to evaporate before their eyes.

Instead, they safely left the escape room behind them and stepped back into reality, walking without destination as long as they put more distance between themselves and Michael.

“Hey, Tim?”  Martin said as they walked.  “No more escape rooms for our dates, yeah?”

Tim chuckled and squeezed his hand tight.  “You got that right.”

[lils-writes-stuff]

Heathridge Manor

spencer reid x reader

Best years part eight | part seven | part six | part five | part four | part three |part two |part one

Summary: Oregon and mystery has the reader and spencer growing closer in a case.   

warnings: normal criminal minds things,

A/N: based on season 7 episode 19; this is one of my fav episodes 

 “You know, Y/N, you should join me for one of my hand-on-hand combat classes,” Derek spoke walking up to stand between Y/N and Spencer who were walking out of the elevator.

 “And why’s that, Derek?” She asked, her head dramatically turning to the side to look at him. 

 “Well you got shot, you need to add some combat to go along to your scars,” he said laughing. 

 Y/N rolled her eyes at the man, knowing he meant no harm, and he genuinely wanted her to come to one of his classes. 

 “Morgan, I am a very good hand-on-hand fighter, remember I was top of the class at the academy,” she said, opening the door to the bullpen.

 “She was, and when she was scared by her neighbor the other morning she--”

 “Hey! Look Hotch texted we have a case let’s go,” Y/N interrupted Spencer before he could finish the embarrassing story. 

 “Alright wonder woman, whatever you say.” Derek laughed as he ruffled Y/N’s her walking towards the round table room, her and Spencer following closely behind.

 The round table room was filled with the others as they sat down. Penelope being the only one missing from the room. 

 “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry for the delay,” Penelope said, swiftly walking into the room as she carried her laptop in her hands. “The system was down. We overwork her. And I had to go into the belly of the beast, who I affectionately nicknamed Persephone, and do some machine whispering, oh-” she stopped, grabbing her remote from Derek as he handed it to her- “thank you. Which is good because this one is a doozy.” 

 “It will never cease to amaze me how much she can get out in one breath,” Y/N said leaning over to Rossi next to her. 

 “Oh yeah,” he agreed.

 “Emma Baker, thirty-eight, math teacher from Medford, Oregon. She went missing seventeen days ago, and her body was found yesterday afternoon at St. Baldwin’s, St. Baldwin’s is a now-defunct psychiatric hospital for the criminally insane. Now that is in Salem, Oregon, which is 270 miles away from Medford and we’ve been called in for the bizarre nature of the case.” Penelope then pulled up a picture of the body that was found. 

 The victim laid on a bed, hands folded across her stomach, and dressed in a dress from the sixteenth century.

 “Wow, look at that dress,” JJ said as she looked at the picture. 

 “Was she going to a renaissance fair?” Emily asked. 

 “Not with her feet bound,” Y/N said as she looked at the victim’s feet. 

 “And the missing persons report says she was in jeans and a t-shirt,” Penelope added. 

 “Look at how she’s laid out, it’s almost like it’s a ceremony and she’s the sacrifice,” Derek said, flipping through the pictures in his hand. 

 “There’s obvious staging going on,” Rossi said. 

 “Could it be a ritualistic killing?” JJ asked. 

 “And the cause of death is still unclear, the M.E. report shows no sign of sexual assault or mutilation except mangled and missing fingernails,” Hotch explained.

 “You know, there were rumors of satanic rites being performed at a Byberry Hospital in Pennsylvania, which is also an abandoned asylum,” Spencer said. 

 “Judging by all the graffiti, this place isn’t exactly locked down,” Derek observed. 

 “Uh, yeah, local P.D. said that vandals and vagrants have been breaking in,” Penelope added on to Derek. 

 “Which means she could have been killed elsewhere and placed here,” Y/N said. 

 “She had limestone under her fingernails, but limestone wouldn’t have been used when this asylum was built, so she was obviously held somewhere else,” Spencer said, looking over to Y/N. 

 “Well, the bottom line is, the unsub transported her hundreds of miles from her hometown for a reason,” Emily said. 

 “We just need to find out what that reason is, wheels up in 30,” Hotch said, dismissing everyone. 

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

 “Emma Baker was a divorced math teacher, no children,” Rossi said as they began going over victimology. 

 “She has a boyfriend, though, who’s a drummer in a goth band. Her Facebook has pictures of them at the Bram Stoker Vampire festival and Slayerama, which celebrates all things gothic,” Penelope explained. 

 “Hm, a teacher by day, Elvira by night,” JJ said with a posing smirk on her face. 

 “Well, clearly this is a woman with two different sides to her personality,” Derek said, taking a sip of coffee from his mug. 

 “Yeah, the boyfriend’s band pours fake blood all over themselves on stage,” Spencer said, looking at a page in the manila folder. 

 “Ah, reminds me of high school,” Y/N said as her eyes locked on the file in her lap. 

 The eyes of everyone on the team turned to her in question at her statement. She looked up, realizing what she had said didn’t make sense to them. 

 “Don’t ask.”  

 “Okay, so if these two were Satanists, it wouldn’t be a stretch,” Emily said, going back to the topic of victimology.

 “Garcia, has the boyfriend been questioned by local P.D.?” Hotch asked.

 “He has, by phone. He’s got an airtight alibi, he and his band have been on tour in Asia for the last month,” Penelope answered. 

 “If it’s not the boyfriend, the unsub could be someone in their circle,” Y/N said. 

 “Emily, you asked earlier if she was going to a renaissance fair, there’s something to that,” Rossi said, looking at Emily next to him. 

 “Based on the dress, there could be more of a connection to history then the occult,” Emily spoke. 

 “Renaissance fairs typically replicate sixteenth-century England,” Spencer began. “They surged in popularity since they began in the 1960s.” 

 “And it’s not just a bunch of nerds in customs eating turkey legs, you guys,” Penelope added. 

 Y/N hummed in agreement, memories of her and her high school friends going to the fairs coming to mind. 

��“A different time is somehow very important to this unsub,” Hotch said. 

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

 Y/N stood with Spencer and JJ as they waited for the tailor in the shop to come back. They had just gotten a call from Derek telling them that she died from nicotine poisoning through the garments of the dress she was sown into.   

 “This unsubs’, not the first to do this, poisoned garments actually have an incredibly long history, going all the way back to the shirt of Nessus, which killed Hercules,” Spencer explained, Y/N listening intently. 

 A door chimed as the tailor entered the room, bringing the attention of the three to him.

 “Okay, so, I double-checked, and this fabric-” the tailor pointed to the fabric in the evidence bag- “is not manufactured for commercial sale,” he explained. 

 “Is it possibly something from the past that was maybe discontinued?” Spencer asked. 

 “No,” the tailor responded. “I can tell you one thing though, the fabric is a double-layer brocade. It was probably custom-made for someone, and is very pricey.” 

 “What about the dress, was there anything that stood out?” Y/N asked the man. 

 “Well, it’s homemade for one,” he responded. 

 “Okay, how do you know that?” JJ asked. 

 “Well, the seams are uneven. Whoever the seamstress is, she isn’t very skilled,” the tailor explained. 

 “What makes you so sure it’s a woman?” Spencer asked. 

 “Well, there’s some detail to the work in here that would require small hands,” the tailor explained. 

 Y/N looked up to Spencer, seeing how he also had the same questioning look on his face as her. 

 “Oh and this is interesting,” the tailor said to bring their attention to the picture of the dress. “See, now, the stitching on this hem, it’s narrow in some places and wider in others.”

 “Small hands, easily distracted,” Spencer said, picking up on what the tailor was showing in the picture. “Let me ask you this, how old do you think someone could be and still effectively sew this?” 

 “Well, a pattern of this complexity, they’d have to be a teenager,” the tailor said, handing Spencer the items as he turned around and saw some fabrics being brought in. 

 “Okay, thanks,” Y/N said to the man as he walked away. She walked over to Spencer and looked at the pictures of the dress again. 

 “Based on the size of the victim’s body, I think only an adult male would be able to lift her and move a hospital bed,” JJ said, putting together all the information she had been told. 

 “So, what’re we looking for a team?” Y/N asked looking between JJ and Spencer. 

 “Or an unsub with a young accomplice who’s been coerced,” Spencer elaborated. 

 JJ and Y/N looked at each other both nodding as they silently agreed with what Spencer was saying. The three left the building and headed to the car parked outside the door. 

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

 Y/N walked into the room of the next victim with Emily and Rossi. The body adorning another renaissance style dress was laying in the middle of the room. 

 “Alice Pritchard was 22, a senior at Portland College, she went missing five days ago, a realtor found her body here this morning,” The detective explained as they walked up to the body. 

 “I don’t see any physical similarities to our first victim, she’s a lot smaller than Emma, different coloring, different age,” Emily pointed out as she observed the victim.  

 “So that means these women aren’t surrogates for anyone,” Y/N said. 

 “But he did lay her out the same way,” Emily added. 

 “She’s displayed in the center of the room just like the other victim in the asylum,” Rossi said.

 “It’s almost like she’s being presented,” Y/N said, tucking her hands into her navy coat pockets as she walked to the end of the body. 

 Emily crouched down next to the body and inspected the dress. “There is so much attention paid to detail, this is also satisfying some internal desire of the unsub,” she explained. 

 “So, why leave bodies in an empty storefront and the asylum?” The detective asked.

 “Good question,” Rossi said, turning around to look out the window. Y/N followed behind him to see what was out of the window also. “There should be a connection between the two.”

 “Or maybe it’s not about the storefront at all, look,” Y/N said, pointing to a theater across the street.

 “A theater company performing Shakespeare,” Emily said, reading the sign above the doorway. 

 The three turned back to look at the body. 

 “The dress, the white makeup, this victim could literally be wearing a costume,” Emily said as she looked between Rossi and Y/N. 

 “What if this was the closest to the theater that the unsub could get…” Rossi trailed off. 

 “Without being caught,” Y/N finished. 

----------  

 Y/N stood next to Spencer as him and Hotch worked on what the numbers from the writing on the wall could be. 

 “Alice’s sorority sisters say she wanted to be a nurse and she was active in a Christian youth group,” Derek said as he approached the three. 

 “So the opposite of our last victim,” Y/N said as she let out a huff, sitting down in one of the seats around the table.

 “Yeah, and if she was into anything dark, her best friends sure didn’t know anything about it,” JJ continued. 

 “She was in Portland collecting donations for an orphanage when she disappeared. The unsub could have approached her on the street,” Derek said, looking at Hotch. 

 Y/N looked over to Spencer, his eyes darting back and forth from the folder in his hands to the numbers written on the clear board. 

 “Hey, baby girl, you’re on speaker, give me the lowdown,” Derek said answering the phone. 

 “Chocolate thunder, you can have the whole kit and caboodle just say the word,” Penelope flirted. “Oh, and I cross-referenced the names you found on the wall with missing women in Oregon and I came up with some matches. Christine Torres is a forty-year-old homemaker from Eugene, Oregon. She went missing over a month ago after she dropped her kids off at school.” 

 “Any other women named Emma missing?” JJ asked.

 “Uh-uh, just the one whose body we found, same thing with Alice,” Penelope answered. 

 “Garcia, what was the exact date Christine was reported missing?” Spencer asked as he backed away from the board.

 “February 28th, Emma went missing on March 19th, and Alice on the 22nd,” Penelope answered. 

 Spencer walked back over to the board and looked at the numbers. Y/N stood up from her chair to stand next to him, wondering what it was he was seeing.

 “What is it, Spence?” She asked him.

 “Look at this.” Spencer grabbed her hand gently and pulled her behind the clear board. “I think these numbers are dates if you reverse them and chop off the eleven at the beginning and end--”

 “That’s two days after each woman went missing,” Hotch interrupted.

 “It’s more than that though look,” Spencer said coming back around to the front of the board, pointing to the first number. “March 1st is Sain Eichatadt day, March 21st is the Spring Equinox, and the 24th is the Feast of the Beast.”

 “Those are all important holidays in the satanic calendar for sacrifices,” Y/N said coming to the same realization Spencer was. Their minds clicked together and now they both had the same thoughts running through.

 “What about the eleven on the end?” Derek asked. 

 “To many of occultists, the eleven is symbolic of Lucifer,” Spencer explained. 

 “Okay, I thought we were moving away from satanic killings,” JJ said. 

 “Apparently we need to reconsider it.” Hotch’s eyes were trained on the file with the victims in them. 

 “There’s gotta be some sort of connection to the devil here,” Spencer said, which had Y/N nodding her head in agreement. 

 “Reid, what other upcoming dates are significant to Satanists?” Hotch asked.

 “Good Friday, then Easter Eve, and then preparations begin in mid-April for the most important night of all--” 

 “Walpurgis night on April 30th,” Y/N said, turning to Spencer. He looked at her surprised, having no idea she knew so much about this stuff. 

 “Good Friday’s in two days, that means he’s hunting for his next victim today.” Derek’s concern in his voice was evident as he spoke. 

 “We need to give the profile soon,” Hotch said, agreeing with Derek’s concern. 

They nodded, going their separate ways to do their work. As normal, Spencer and Y/N stayed by the boards to work, as they both found it was the easiest place to focus. 

 “Since when did you know all about these things?” Spencer’s back was turned to Y/N as he looked at the boards. 

 “Hm?” She questioned, not knowing what he meant. 

 “About these Satanic things, should I be concerned?” He joked with her, which she returned with a small laugh. 

 “There’s a lot of things you still don’t know about me, Dr. Reid.” Y/N winked at the boy wonder, making a beating red blush form on his face. 

 His mouth opened to speak, but truly he was too flustered to do so. The simple act of the wink making his knees go weak. 

 “No, in high school I had to write a paper on the Salem Witch Trials. I dabbled into some of the Satanic stuff to build my thesis more and give some context,” she said, shrugging as she turned back to her work.

 Spencer nodded as if silently saying ‘cool’, his own attention now being divided back to the board. 

 As the two worked, they gave silent glances to each other. Unbeknownst to the other, these were the simple acts that formed their love for each other inside. While they had been dating for a while now, both of them falling in love each moment they spent together, they never voiced the feelings for each other. 

 Spencer not doing so because of his small fear of rejection. Thoughts that said, what if she doesn’t say it back? or does she not feel the same way?, were ones that vacated his thoughts. But when he looked at her smile, he couldn’t help but feel a fire burn in his heart, her presence being the very thing that started and fueled it. When he held her in his arms, her scent vacating his senses, he could feel all his anxiety leave him. The only thing mattering in those moments was her, and how she felt and smelled. How when she touched him he’d go weak and want nothing more than to just lay with her all day. The thoughts of their future would play like a movie in his head as he held her, and he couldn’t wait for him to act it out. 

 Now Y/N, she never voiced it because of her constant fear he would be taken away from her. Her fear being that the moment she said it, the next day he would be gone. Her tormentor taking him away and hurting the one she was beginning to love the most. She wasn’t afraid of love per se, but the thought of her having to say it aloud like she had to in front of Caroline to her friends, it only made her want to crawl away and hide. Y/N knew, she knew this feeling that Spencer was it for her, was true. Her heart could tell her it faster than her brain could even have time to think about it. When he held her or when she kissed him, the butterflies were everywhere in her. They fluttered in her stomach and they clouded all rational thought. And the one thing that gave her the most anxiety, was the fear of her great love being taken away. 

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

 “Based on the dresses and makeup the victims were found in, we’re looking for an unsub who is living in an elaborate fantasy world.” The crowd of officers listened intently as Emily began the profile. 

 “Be believes he’s special, as though he could be acting on behalf of the devil,” Y/N continued. 

 “This unsub tortured his victims by submerging them in water for days before killing them,” JJ said. 

 “Which means he’s deliberate and patient,” Y/N embellished on what JJ said. 

 “This guy has a vivid imagination,” Derek began. “The costumes and makeup suggest that he’s a history buff or he may be a fan of Shakespeare.” 

 “Using nicotine as poison is highly unusual, so he’s either very well-read or under the guidance of another,” Spencer spoke with his hands as he explained. 

 “His interests and delusions have caused him to become isolated socially,” Emily said. 

 “He can’t appear normal to his potential targets, and his crimes are not driven by sex or greed, but instead by his delusional belief system,” Rossi added. 

 “Although the bodies of only two victims have been recovered, there’s likely a third. Specifically, Christine Torres, who disappeared in February,” Hotch said. 

 “This unsubs exact age is difficult to determine, but he’s probably in his 20s to 30s,” Derek explained. 

 “The fact that he travels so far to abduct his victims indicates he has very specific selection criteria,” Y/N said, then turning to Spencer who began to speak. 

 “This unsub has a female or underage accomplice who sewed the dresses the victims were found in, but she may not be a partner in the traditional sense. It’s quite possible she was coerced into helping and may actually be a victim herself, ” Spencer said. 

 “Most importantly, this unsub is working according to a specific timetable,” Hotch explained. 

 “This timetable is corresponding with the Satanic calendar and his plans are to kidnap another victim of today,” Y/N said. 

 “Thank you.” Hotch’s words dismissed everyone. 

----------  

 The room bustled as people were working on the case and other things. Y/N’s eyelids were heavy from the long day as the aimless chatter in the background made her sleepy. She reached over to her coffee cup, taking a large gulp of the warm liquid, praying that the caffeine would give her a boost of energy. 

 She looked at the photos Spencer held, her chair sliding closer to his so she could observe them closer, Spencer and the photos. The heat from his body radiating onto hers as she got close and she was able to be filled with his warm scent. Her eyes panned up to look at Spencer’s face, his brows furrowed in concentration as he looked at the white makeup on the faces of the victims. 

 “What’s got your wheels turning?” She asked him. 

 Spencer’s head turned to look at the woman next to him. He stuttered a bit as he formed his words,  not realizing she was this close to him. “I’m not sure, something about it--” he cut himself short as both his and Y/N’s attention turned to Rossi as he spoke to them. 

 “So, Garcia checked out everyone associated with that theater production of The Merry Wives of Windsor, they’re all in the clear.” 

 “The gowns have to be connected to the theater somehow, it can’t just be a coincidence,” JJ said. 

 “There’s something else that’s been bothering me, why is he putting white face makeup on his victims after they’re dead?” Spencer said, voicing his question to the group he almost said to Y/N a minute before. 

 “Isn’t that what they wore in the Elizabethan era?” Rossi asked. 

 “Yes, but only upper-class women wore white face makeup, it was a symbol of virginity and purity,” Spencer explained to the group. 

 “But he’s dressing them like characters in The Merry Wives of Windsor,” Y/N said as she followed Spencer’s train of thought. 

 “And that’s one of Shakespeare’s rare plays about the middle class,” Spencer added.

 “So, it’s inconsistent.” JJ looked at Spencer as she waited for confirmation on her statement. 

 “The makeup could mean that he believes death is purifying them,” Hotch spoke. 

 “What if this is like the Salem Witch trials, where they’d test the girls by trying to drown them? Y/N said something to me earlier about how she had to write a paper on them, and it got me thinking,” Spencer said. 

 “If they died, it meant they were innocent, and if they somehow survived, they were considered witches and then hanged,” Y/N elaborated on what Spencer was saying. 

 “Wonderful, a lose-lose situation,” Rossi said.

 “But the unsub didn’t submerge the victims in water to torture them, it was some sort of test?” JJ asked, looking over to Spencer. 

 “With death being the only possible outcome,” Spencer answered. 

 “Well, if he believes he’s killing witches, he probably thinks that he’s a vigilante or a protector against evil of some sort,” Hotch said. 

 “Laying the victims out the way he did could be a message to the devil,” JJ added. 

 “A symbol of victory and a warning, like putting a head on a spike.” Rossi looked down from his standing position to Y/N and Spencer who sat next to each other. Y/N then looked at Spencer, her mind thinking the same thing as him as Rossi’s word’s made him pause. 

 “He’s not worshipping the devil,” Y/N said with realization. 

 “He’s trying to fight him.” Spencer looked over to Y/N as he finished what she was saying.

 “So we have an unsub who’s challenging the devil, this could not get any more strange,” Y/n said. 

-----------

 “Missing woman is Sarah Gammon, she’s a 27-year-old graphic artist, to pick her up for her weekly breakfast together, she wasn’t there,” the detective said, walking into the room. 

 It was the next morning, the team only getting a couple of hours of sleep after the long night they had before. 

 “Where was she last seen?” Rossi asked. 

 “At a nightclub in Portland, the, uh, Mirage Room.” The detective stuttered as he tried to remember the name. “She went with a girlfriend who had to leave early. 

 “Morgan and I will check it out,” Rossi said as he exited the room. 

 As Rossi left the room, Hotch’s phone rang. 

 “Okay, so I did some varsity-level sleuthing,” Penelope said as soon as Hotch answered the phone. “And it turns out the costumes were donated to the theater by a young actress named Cate Harris. She was in their production of The Merry Wives of Windsor 16 years ago, which was the only other time that the play was produced there.” 

 “Where is she now?” Y/N asked. 

 “Oh, I was hoping you would ask because I have the answer,” Penelope spoke with excitement. “She died in 1998 in the fire at St. Baldwins psychiatric hospital.” 

 “I revoke my statement from last night on this getting weirder,” Y/N whispered to herself. 

 “Was she a patient there?” JJ asked. 

 “Oh, most definitely. And some say that she set the fire.”

 “Garcia, can you get her medical records?” Hotch asked the woman. 

 “Yeah, I tried to do that, but it turns out that the new director of St. Baldwin's was a technophobe hyper-Luddite like our Dr. Reid, and he only wanted the psych records to be on paper to protect confidentiality,” Penelope explained. 

 “Okay.” Hotch picked up his phone and hung it up, then pocketing it. “Detective, we need you to get a copy of those records.”

 “You got it,” the detective said, turning to walk out of the room. 

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

 The navy jacket was wrapped tightly around Y/N’s torso as her, Emily and JJ walked to the storage unit of St. Baldwins that lay beneath the asylum. They were stopped outside the unit as the caretaker unlocked it. 

 “Apparently, the state would have to pay for a new storage facility if they moved the records,” the detective explained as to why the unit stayed here. “Someone decided, why bother if the old place works?” 

 The three women nodded their heads as they heard the clanking of the lock coming off of the door. The caretaker opened the door, the creaking sound giving an eerie feeling to the air.

 “Ladies.” The detective motioned his hands in a welcome motion as the three walked closer to the unit. 

 “No electricity, I take it,” Emily said as she noticed the absence of light. 

 “You would be correct,” the detective said from behind the three. 

 Y/N and Emily sighed, both of them pulling flashlights from their pockets as the entered the room. As Y/N walked through the room, her eyes followed the flashlight’s glow as she pointed it at all the different shelves. The creepy feel from the room made her on edge as she looked for the files they were looking for.  

 “Hey, I think I found it.” Y/N jumped slightly, not expecting to hear a voice jump in the quiet room. 

 She made her way over to Emily, JJ and the detective joining her as they looked over the report in Emily’s hand.

 “Yeah, oh- first of all, Cate Harris was a stage name for Catherine Heathridge, a textile heiress. Her family kept the pseudonym for her medical admission to protect their privacy,” Emily explained as she read through the file. 

 Y/N picked up another file from the stack that was labeled ‘Cate Harris’. “According to the intake report,” she said as she began to read the file. “Catherine was an aspiring actress who went off her psychiatric medications when she was pregnant with her daughter. She had a minor part in The Merry Wives of Windsor 16 years ago when she became floridly psychotic. She was convinced the other actresses were the devil’s wives, so she stabbed one of them.”

 “Is that when she was admitted here?” JJ asked. 

 “No, not yet,” Emily said as she looked at the report over Y/N’s shoulder. 

 “It looks like she had a son and a daughter. After she fled the theater--” Y/N gasped as her eyes gazed over the next line, handing the file to Emily as she wasn’t able to say what the woman did out loud. “You can finish it.”

 “After fleeing the theater, she chopped off the left arm of her infant daughter,” Emily finished as she took the file from Y/N’s hand. 

 “Why would she do that?” The detective asked, voice stoic. 

 “To make the childless appealing to the devil,” Y/N said as she looked up to JJ and Emily. Her head previously resting in her hand. 

 “She believed that killing the devil’s wives was her mission on earth, which is what our unsub is doing now,” Emily explained.

 “But she died in the asylum fire,” the detective stated. 

 “Someone else must be carrying out her mission,” JJ said.

 “And I bet you it’s the son,” Y/N said, the gut feeling being present as she said her words to the others. 

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

  Y/N sat at the table while she told Spencer, Hotch, and Rossi about what they had discovered at the asylum. Her head resting on her hand as she looked up at the three men. 

 “If someone’s carrying on in Catherine’s mission, then it’s quite possible they both suffered from folie a deux, a shared psychotic disorder between two people who are extremely close and that would mean it’s most likely a family member,” Spencer explained after Y/N had told them all they found. 

 “It’s the son.” Y/N’s voice spoke in a sing-song tone under her breath. 

 “Maybe one or both of her kids,” Rossi stated. 

 “Garcia, I need you to find everything you can on the Heathridge family, specifically Catherine’s son and daughter,” Hotch ordered Penelope when she picked up her phone. 

 “Okay, finding it as we speak…” she trailed off as she began to look for what Hotch was asking. “Bingo, Catherine, a wealthy textile heiress, had a son: James, now twenty-six and a daughter Lara, now sixteen. Father died in a speedboat accident right before Lara was born. They were raised by their grandfather in a mansion outside Portland after their mom was committed.” 

 “Is the grandfather still alive?” Hotch asked. 

 “No, he died last year,” Penelope answered. 

 “That could have been the stressor,” Spencer thought aloud. 

 “Penelope, where are the kids living now?” Y/N asked.

 “James was kicked out of a seminary in Colorado three years ago, but that’s still his listed address. Lara dropped out of school six weeks ago, coincidentally on her birthday and the family home is her listed address, and I’m sending you pictures...now.”

 Photos of the house and kids appeared on the tablet screen. Y/N stood up and walked over next to Rossi as he clicked on the picture of the son. 

 “That could be him, the man at the night club who left with Sarah Gammon,” Rossi said as he inspected the picture.

 “All right, contact the seminary,” Hotch said, looking at Spencer and Rossi. “Garcia, I’m gonna need an address, Y/N let’s go.” Hotch nodded for Y/N to follow him as he began to walk out of the room. 

 “Yes, sir,” she responded and followed him. 

 “Be safe.” Spencer’s words made Y/N turn back and give him a reassuring smile that said, I always am. 

 “Whipped,” Rossi said, covering it up with a cough as he walked away to grab his phone. Spencer just looked at the man confused, but simply went back to his work. 

---------

 The cars pulled up to the manor. Sirens turned off so that they still maintained the element of surprise. They piled out of the vehicles, JJ, Emily, and Derek joining Hotch and Y/N back at the station. 

 “Morgan, you and JJ take the back, we’ll take the front,” Hotch said. 

 JJ and Derek nodded and made their way around back, while Y/N, Hotch, and Emily stayed upfront. 

 Y/N examined the front of the house. It wasn’t a manor in the traditional sense, it had more of a woodsy feel to its exterior. 

 “You see that?” Emily asked Hotch and Y/N. 

 Y/N looked back up at the house, finally noticing what Emily was talking about. “There’s a girl in the window.” 

 “All right, you check up there-” Hotch nodded to Emily. “Me and Y/N will look for James.” 

 Emily nodded as they took off into the house, Y/N and Hotch separating from Emily as she headed up the stairs.

 Hotch pushed the door to the kitchen open, turning quickly to his right and Y/N to the left. The darkrooms they entered were only lit by the flashlights. They walked through the rooms slowly, only separating for a second to go into two different sides of the room. 

 Y/N walked down the steps to the basement first, Hotch now behind her as he followed closely. The basement was cold, damp, and slightly lit through the windows by the moonlight. Y/N’s heart pounded in her ears, one foot in front of the other as she moved down the steps. Her light shined as she saw the body of the missing girl on the ground by what appeared to be well.  

 Y/N felt a sharp pain hit her hip. She groaned as she fell to the ground, her hand clutching her hip as she felt the bruise already forming. 

 Hotch also let out a groan as he was hit in the legs, his gun, and flashlight sliding across the ground. 

 Y/N looked up to see James get tackled by Hotch and shoved into a wall. James head-butted Hotch giving him a second to go over and try to hit Y/N while Hotch stumbled back. 

 James brought a fire-poker around from his left side, but before he could hit Y/N with it, she kicked it out of his hand. She pushed herself up onto her feet and got a quick, hard punch in to throw him off. This allowed Hotch to grab him and shove him back to a wall. The two threw punches back and forth before Hotch pulled him away and tried to push him into the ground. 

 Hotch had him off his guard and he began to push him towards the well. When James fought back and punched Hotch, Y/N came over and gave a hard kick to James’ chest.

  James stumbled back, the kick was just enough to send him falling onto the edge of the well. When he came back up and lurched for Hotch again, clearly being his focus, Hotch was quick to throw him back, having him fall into the well this time. 

 Y/N stood next to Hotch as they looked down into the deep well, James’ body laying at the bottom. 

 “Teamwork.” Y/N huffed the word as she looked at Hotch who just shook his head and the two made their way out of the basement. 

 “You’re bleeding, better get that looked at,” Hotch said, pointing to Y/N eyebrow that was in fact bleeding from when she hit the ground. 

 When they reached outside, Hotch told the paramedics where James was and made Y/N get looked at after her many protests.

 “I’m fine, seriously.” Her protests did not make him change his mind. 

 “That’s an order.”

  Y/N now stood with Derek as a paramedic put some butterfly bandages on the cut after accessing it was only a superficial cut. 

 “You good wonder woman?” Derek asked, the nickname from the previous day sticking. 

 “Oh yeah, you should see the other guy.” Her joke, cliche as it was, made Derek chuckle anyway as he turned to Emily as she approached. 

 “So, Lara is gonna be okay,” Emily said, walking over to the rest of them. “She confirmed that the bodies were left out as messages to the devil.” 

 “Well, her brother’s dead, so what happens to her now?” Derek asked. 

 “There’s always foster care,” the detective answered. 

 “For an heiress?” Y/N said the paramedic finished with her face and had moved on to the ambulance.  

 “Yeah, I don’t think so,” JJ agreed. 

 “There will be guardians and trustees coming out of the woodworks before she gets put into foster care,” Y/N said, making her teammates chuckle. 

 “So she’ll end up back here, in a house that breeds delusions,” the detective said, looking back to the house. 

 “Hopefully not,” Hotch spoke.

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

“Okay, okay, what is the best book you have ever read?” The question made Spencer ponder. 

 Y/N and Spencer sat in a booth at a diner in D.C., the table holding breakfast foods for the late-night date. The warm glow that surrounded the two made all their worries vanish, their attention only on the other.

 “That’s a hard one, I’ve read so many.” His thumb and pointer finger lined his jaw as he placed his head between the two. “I mean, I guess fiction might have to be one of Dickens works.”  

 Y/N nodded her head, her legs pulled up in the seat and she sat with her back to the wall. Spencer began going on about Oliver Twist and Y/N was listening intently to every word he spoke. Watching how his lips would move faster as he began to get excited about something he was saying, or the way his voice would go an octave higher when his hands moved as he spoke. A smile played on her lips as she listened to him as he went on.

 She was so engrossed in her own mind of watching him that she didn’t even notice he asked her a question until his lips stopped moving. 

 “Sorry, what?” 

 “I said, do you have a favorite work by Dickens?” He repeated his question with a laugh. 

 “Oh, probably Great Expectations, but I’m more of a fan of Poe, more than anything,” she answered. Her legs moved under the table as she sat facing Spencer in the both. 

 “For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams, of the beautiful Annabel Lee,” Spencer quoted the poem, Anabel Lee. A smile formed on his as he watched a bashful blush on Y/N’s cheeks.

 The simple poem about a tormented, beautiful young love never failed to have Y/N swoon. In high school, Anabel Lee was the poem she would read repeatedly in her textbook. The words she could quote by heart only sounded so sweeter coming from Spencer’s lips.  

 “I’ve always been a fan of dark romanticism,” she spoke. “This case we just had, reminded of something out of a book though if I’m being honest.” She brought her milkshake straw up to her lips, taking a sip of the creamy liquid. 

 “It was an odd one,” Spencer agreed. 

 Y/M hummed, her lips still wrapped around the straw. She pulled her eyes off Spencer to look out the window. She watched as people walked by, couples holding hands, men getting home from their offices late, but one stood out to her. 

 From a distance, about fifty yards across the street, a dark-haired man stood, staring at Y/N and Spencer out the window. She had no idea who this man was, but it made her stomach drop as she got a bad feeling. 

 “Spencer I think we should go home now,” she spoke calmly. 

 He furrowed his brows in confusion. “Okay, any reason why?” 

 “Because there is a man out there who has been staring at us for I don’t know how long, and I don’t want to deal with it anymore.” She stood up from her seat in the booth, wrapping her navy jacket around her body. 

 Spencer did the same as he stood up and walked next to her out of the building. “Do you think it has anything to do with--”

 “I have no clue--”

 “Could it?”

 “I don’t know, let's just go back to your place, it’s closer.” So, that’s what they did. Spencer grabbed Y/N’s hand protectively and led her down the street while she kept her head down. The man’s face still in her thoughts, no expressions, just stoic and unsettling. His face was almost calm, seemingly normal to an untrained eye, but she knew. She could only hope this had nothing to do with Caroline and she was simply overreacting.   

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