#against my better judgement i'm jumping in early

[viric-dreams]

@zeebreezin's Laurence working on a very special soup.

[fictionfunshop]

CALL GIRL RECOVERY - PART III

Thanks for your patience everyone - I've added a little *spice* this chapter for you all to enjoy!

INTRO

PART II

18+ - Language, illegal activity, SMUT (kissing, general nakedness, some self-love)

Spencer Reid / OFC

Word Count - 3.5K

My Saturdays are like any other person; I spend it cleaning my apartment, getting in some groceries, and catching up on TV shows I never got the chance to watch during the week. So here I'm sitting on my couch in fuzzy pyjamas watching a trashy reality TV show about rich people on boats being ridiculous. The shrill ringtone from my phone makes me jump as I grab it, not even looking at the caller ID.

"Darling, how's my favourite?" Natalya purrs down the phone.

Now Spencer has become a new regular; I guess I'm back in her good books.

"I'm great, trying to relax on my day off,"

"I hope no chocolate; I don't need you getting fat on me." I instinctively put down the cookie I was going to eat. "You better get presentable because the doctor wants an overnight with you tonight."

I sit up, my heart racing. Generally, most men who want the GFE do overnight stays; the longer you book, the more authentic of an experience it is.

While I've seen Spencer a handful of times, they've all been the same; he comes over to my place we play chess or read books; the last time, he even graded papers for one of his classes. We also cuddled; he'd occasionally kiss my cheeks or forehead. I was patient with him, though; I knew if I forced anything, he'd go back into his shell, and now he wants a sleepover? I had a million thoughts; What does he want us to do? Does he want us to have sex? We haven't even properly kissed yet...

"Yeah, that's fine. Is he coming here, or has he booked a hotel?" my heart was still racing from the idea of him in my bed.

"Yours darling, so get cleaning! I know you do it yourself, and I'll send a time for you to expect him. Go get gorgeous!" she hangs up the phone on me. I mentally curse myself before I jump up and start getting ready.

Like always, he turns up five minutes early, wrapping his knuckles on my door. I open the door in my carefully planned pyjamas, shorts, and a black silk shirt with some pink piping. Something I knew he would want to see me in, but my mind still scambled that he was spending the night.

"I wasn't aware we had to turn up in my comfies," he hugs me, dropping his overnight bag by the door, and I instinctively press my body up against his.

"You could've, no judgement," I laugh; he's dressed a little more casual than usual; his suit jacket has been replaced by a soft cardigan which I can feel is expensive, and he has converse on his feet instead of his brogues.

"You look beautiful, like always," he kisses my cheek as he tells me. I get told I'm gorgeous, sexy and hot all day long but never beautiful, which makes my heart rhythm speed up for a moment.

"Right back at ya, you coming in?" he takes his shoes off and walks through to my sitting room and sits on my couch. I perch myself next to him, and he instinctively puts his hand in my lap.

"Thanks for seeing me; I know you don't normally do weekend calls..."

"No problem, if I didn't want to see you, I'd say no" he laughs and throws me a pretend hurt look.

"I start back at the FBI on Monday, so I don't know what my schedule will be, and I want to see you before it all kicks off."

"Are you excited to go back?" you knew by a few conversations that he missed his team and loved his work.

"Yeah, it's been nice to teach for a while and have a job where the possibility I get killed is zero."

"Is that how dangerous it gets?" he nods his head.

"I've been close to death a handful of times. The last time a bullet hit me, I nearly bled out. I still have the scar," he grabs my hand and lets me touch his neck, where I can feel a ridge of hard skin. "A millimetre over, and I was gone."

"I'm sorry that happened to you,"

"You didn't shoot me; it wasn't the first time it happened, and it probably won't be the last," I can feel the tears build up when I hear the resignation in his voice. I know the following question from my mouth will push me over the edge, but I need to know.

"What's the worst thing that's ever happened to you?"

He looks into my eyes and pauses for a moment like I was about to run out my door the minute it came out of my mouth.

"I was framed for murder and drug charges a few years ago; I was in federal prison for three months because of it. After I was released, the same woman who framed me abducted my mother afterwards. I was eventually re-instated and acquitted, but it's been a long road to recovery; that's why I still go to therapy."

I have heard stories from clients before; stock markets crash, business deals don't work out; I even had a client arrested while we were out having a meal once. I have never heard of any real danger like that to anyone I know, especially to someone as sweet as Spencer. I say the first thing that comes from my heart, hoping it gives him some comfort.

"I don't know what to say, sorry seems insignificant. You're the bravest person I know for going through all of that and still smiling and living your life. I'm honoured that you trust me enough to tell me that and to be with you." I take in his hazel eyes as I let the words slip from my mouth, noticing the flecks of gold shining through them.

He brings his free hand from his lap and wipes away the tears which have escaped from my eyes, my facade breaking at that moment before he leans over, grabbing my jaw and presses his lips to mine.

*********************************************************************

She felt so soft, from the light press of her lips to mine to the silk of her pyjamas covering her waist where my hand rested. I tighten my grip on her jaw as I sweep my tongue across her bottom lip, and she immediately deepens our kiss. The grip on my hand in her lap tightening as she presses herself closer to me. Seeing her with tears in her eyes, the words she could only speak from her heart, I realised that I wanted her. Dr Mendes was right; I was deserving of affection. She breaks our kiss, biting her lip in disbelief.

"I enjoyed that; we could've been doing that weeks ago instead of beating my ass at chess," she giggles.

I let a chuckle out, "I let you win a few games," I pull her into my lap, straddling my waist. I let my hands rest there as hers tangled in my hair, tugging it lightly as she pecks my lips.

"Let me know if I go too far; we can stop whenever you want," I nod my head before I dive into her lips again, our tongues meeting again. We're both lost then, my hands roaming her back, squeezing her hips occasionally while hers tug my hair and grip my face, afraid I'll pull away. It was one of the few times in my life that my brain switched off; she felt too good and real in my lap, her hips rocking slightly against me. My hands drift around her back, and I find a slither of bare skin from her shirt riding up; I gasp and immediately try and move my hand back. I can hear her whine a little before she breaks the kiss.

"It's okay to touch me, Spencer," She whispers, "I want you to," she kisses my neck lightly. My hands immediately go up the back of her shirt, and it's then that I notice she's not wearing a bra. She nips at my neck and whimpers as I dig my fingers into her,

"Do you want me to take this off?" I slide my hands up her sides, just feeling her warm skin; her fingers are tracing around my shoulders under my shirt.

"Let me," I take my hands from under her and bring them to the top button, letting out a shaky breath before I make little work of them; when they're all finally opened, she shrugs it off her shoulders, her top half exposed to me. My senses are in overdrive; it's been a while since a half-naked woman has been on my lap. After prison, my main goal has been surviving, so dating and sex were not on my agenda. I can see her trying to make eye contact with me.

"You're beautiful," I wrap my arm around her back again and bury my face into her chest, leaving sloppy kisses in between the valley of her breasts. I can hear her breath hitch as my teeth graze over one of her nipples; she tugs at my hair, keeping me there.

"Hmmm...Spencer," she mumbles; I grab her ass and grind her into the tent in my pant, both of us now moaning in unison. She tugs my head back so we can look at each other again,

"Do you want to go to the bedroom?"

I freeze against her; I don't want that; surprisingly, my lack of experience holds me back, afraid I'll be bad for her. I don't want that.

"We can stay-" she answers, trying to slide off my lap, but I keep her there.

"No, I don't want that yet. I want more though, I like being close to you," I admit.

"Do you want me to touch you? Do you want to keep touching me?" I nod my head at both questions, and she smiles.

"I have an idea, do you trust me," she climbs off my lap and holds her hand out to me; I push myself up and take her hand into mine, she keeps my hand against her chest and wanders backwards, I noticed she walks past her bedroom, and I make a little face before she giggles.

"I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet..." she opens the door, and that's when I notice it's her bathroom; a large tub sits against the window as she wanders over to it and fiddles with the taps and some bottles by the side.

"Do you want to take a bath together? We don't have to do anything, see if it relaxes you?" she walks back over to me, waiting for me to make the next move.

I take a step closer to her and trail a finger down her arm before I pull the tie of her shorts, my other hand joining in tugging them down, and I see she's also not wearing any underwear. She kicks them into the corner before she brings her hands to my cardigan; I help her out with the buttons before I shrug it off my shoulders. We start kissing again as I unbutton my shirt, and she gently has her hands on my belt buckle, almost asking for permission to undo my trousers. I join her hands and start on my belt; she picks up the hint and takes over, her fingers brushing over me through my boxers as she opens my trousers. I let them off to the floor before they join the rest of our clothes; before I break our kiss and I take off my shirt, she lets a laugh bounce around the room at my eagerness.

"Are you keeping your socks on, Doctor?" she turns around and turns off the tap before she tips her toe in, testing the temperature before she sits down. I shook my head, pulling them off before I realised that the only thing between me and the tub was my boxers. I can feel nervousness build up in the pit of my stomach as my hands go the band; I can feel her hand reach out to me.

"You don't have to," I look at her, "to take them off or join me, we could just-"

"No, I want to. It's just been a while since I've done anything."

"That's okay. We can top and tail in here if you want," her eyes we're comforting, staring into mine before I realise I don't want that; for all my germaphobe tendencies, the need for her to be close to me wins out.

"Thanks for being patient with me," I rub her cheek before I give her a quick peck on the lips before I break us apart, and I slide my boxers down. She makes a point of keeping her eyes on me; I know she's trying to relieve some of my self-consciousness.

"Scooch up," I tap her shoulder as I climb in behind her. I rest my back against the cold tub as my fingers dance up and down her back; I can feel goosebumps form in my trail as I smile, I trail my index finger down her spine, and she shivers away from me. She lets out a giggle.

"That tickles,"

"Did you know that the body's defensive instincts are mainly focused on the changes that occur behind us, that and your central nervous system runs the length of your spine. That's why you're ticklish." I bring my hand to massage her shoulder; she nuzzles into it before giving my hand a quick peck.

She turns around to face me, "Are you relaxed yet?"

"Nearly," I close my eyes and let the warm water relax my muscles; my hand reaches out to find any part of her.

"You're very touchy today," she points out.

"Is that okay?"

I know I'm paying her to be here, but I do want her to be comfortable. She turns herself around slightly in the tub and kisses me with reassurance; my hand finds her face to keep her there before I let go and pull her into my chest, my arms wrapped tight around her, holding her close. We're both silent for a while, her random tracing figures on my forearm as I relax with my eyes closed, her still in my arms. I feel her lips press against my neck, and I tighten my grip a little.

"Thanks for doing this," I whisper.

"I'm guessing my idea worked then," I open one of my eyes, and I see her looking at me,

"It's not often I'm wrong, I tried this at home, but it didn't work,"

"Maybe it's the bath salts I used,"

"No, I don't think it's that," she laughs as one of my hand squeezes her hips. She presses her lips to mine again, her hand tugging in my curls.

"Feels good, Spencer," I don't respond, and I pull her back into my lips, our tongues finding each other again.

My hands now are separate from my mind, tracing up and down her back before I cup her ass. I can feel the water getting cold, but we keep kissing like teenagers. Then I hear it, my cellphone ringing from my bag in the sitting room. It's 9 pm, so I know whoever it is, it's bad. She immediately climbs off me, slipping out of the tub and wrapping herself in a towel before handing me one. I jump out and walk back into her sitting room digging through my bag to find the offending device.

"Reid here,"

"Hey, look, I know you're not back until tomorrow, but we've a case in Jacksonville we need you on," JJ tells me down the phone.

I see her leaning in the doorway, her towel still wrapped around her.

"Yeah, I'll be in as soon as I can,"

"Thanks, and Spence -"

"Yeah?"

"Welcome back", I hear a click on the other end as I toss my phone back into my bag.

I see her walk back over to me, "Guessing you need to cut our night short,"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. They need me for a case in Jacksonville, so I've to go,"

"It's okay, I understand. Do you need me to do anything?"

I shake my head, I can see she's trying to look relaxed, but she has a scared look in her eye.

"I'm going to be alright," I tell her, "I'll be back, I promise."

She nods her head; I reassure her with a quick kiss before heading back to the bathroom and quickly putting my clothes back on. When I enter the living room again, she's still in her towel, sitting on her sofa and a book in her hand, it's one I gave her the last time I saw her.

"You all set?" she closes it over and stands up. I open up my arms, and she immediately comes to me, draping her hands around my neck.

"Please be safe," she whispers into my chest.

She pulls away only to crash our lips together, and I can feel it, her kissing me as if I'll never see her again. I pull away because I know if we keep kissing like this, I'll drag her back to the bathroom again.

"I'll be back soon, promise. Keep yourself busy, and you'll forget that I was even gone."

" Don't dismiss yourself like that. You're important, Spencer." She looks me dead in the eyes as she tells me this.

I don't know what to say, so I nod my head. I give her one final kiss before I gather up my belongings and walk out her door.

***********************************************************************

The door clicks closed, and I don't know what to do. All I can think about is him chasing murderers or God knows who else. I wander back to the bathroom to clean up, and I notice that he's done it and left an envelope on the counter, my fee in fifty dollar bills in total inside. I feel a bang of guilt as I twirl the envelope through my fingers because I know it feels different from my other regulars, which worries me.

He's sweet, handsome and damaged, and all I want to do is keep him safe and help him mend himself. I go back into my room and collapse on the bed, throwing the envelope into my dresser and closing my eyes. When this happens, I phone up Natalya most of the time, and I see if she has any one-time clients, but I would feel like im cheating on Spencer if I do that tonight.

I knew he would be a good kisser; his lips were far too pink and pouty for him not to be. I didn't think I'd like it that much, though; I knew while I was in his lap that I was crossing the line, but I couldn't help myself. I grind my hips into the mattress as I let my mind wander to the what-ifs - what if he wasn't so self-conscious? What if he wasn't called away to fight crime? Would he do more than kiss me? I open my towel as the cold air of my apartment hits me as I think of his wet hands on my skin in the bathtub. I close my eyes and think of Spencer above me as I trace my fingers around my nipples, and I let out a whimper as I pinch them, picturing his mop of curls on my chest, his teeth clamping down on the tender bud there. I continue to buck my hips for relief as I wet my fingers and trace them around my nipples before I run them down to my opened thighs, tracing light figures inside. I know I'm wet and dripping onto the towel as I tease myself more. I bit my lip to stop myself moaning his name as my fingers trace myself, imaging it was his tongue. I let out a gasp as I finally rub my clit, some relief finally coming to me. I press harder as I continue my fantasy of the doctor and what will hopefully come in our future appointments together. My finger breeches my entrance, knowing that compared to his own or even his dick, it's not even close, pumping them in and out, and I can feel my walls tighten. My fingers go back to my clit, and I can feel the knot in my stomach tighten; my legs shake as his name chants from my lips and bounces from my walls. The hand not between my legs grips my sheets, my eyes squeeze close as I come hard, whine a little as I think how good it would feel to come around his dick, his stubble scratching my skin as he kisses me through it.

It's only when my post-orgasm haze lifts that I realise even though this isn't the first time I've done this, I realise that I'm falling for Spencer, and I'm completely fucked.

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

We Met Within This Screen [chapt. 6]

[Donnie x reader]

sfw, chapter 5 here

Come on, save it, save it, Donnie chanted to himself later that night, at home and tucked away in his room trying to figure out how to neutralize the situation. He paced along his bed back and forth, phone in hand as he wracked his brain thinking about how he'd get her to let it go. He could tell her that she was...overtired? Go the stereotypical route and say it was just her eyes playing tricks on her? Try to play it off as human teenagers messing around on the roof?

She'd gone to bed already. He hated that he couldn't pursue the subject until morning, her morning, but by then, he'd be tired. When she woke, he slept. But he needed to get it resolved as quickly as possible, so he reckoned it was time to pull an all nighter. Luckily, that wasn't anything he wasn't used to.

He figured he'd get the preliminaries out of the way so he could get right to it when she eventually texted back.

"Good morning

I know you're not awake yet but I figured I'd get an early start today.

I want to know, what exactly did you see last night?"

He shut his phone off and set it down on the bed, fingers rubbing his temples. Depending on her answer, this would either be difficult, or near impossible.

The rest of his time was spent just waiting around for her to finally wake up, dodging all his brothers and trying to occupy himself with something. He was fiddling with the radio he kept on the floor next to his bed when his phone notified him of a message. Turning the volume up, some old-school rock played softly. He didn't always keep music on when he worked, which was what he was doing felt like, but something needed to fill the silence. It also made it feel more casual to have the radio on, for both himself and for whoever might stop by his room.

"Good morning to you too

That was...sudden??"

How nice it was to read those words coming from someone who wasn't his family. Not that they said it like that often anyway, but the small gesture hit differently.

"I'm just really curious about what you said you saw."

Curious? Not quite. More like dying to know, and not because he fancied himself some cryptid hunting.

"That's fair I guess

But don't laugh, ok?"

"I'd never, [y/n]"

"Well

Okay

They were big

But no like not the overweight kinf, not even just 'tall guy' kind of big

kind*

You know?"

Yeah, I aware. I'm 6'8" and have a giant shell on my back.

"They?"

He was hoping she'd only seen one of them. Maybe it would have been easier, but, of course, that wasn't the case.

"I think there were two

Idk it just looked really weird, it was dark but the silhouette from the light made them look bulky, I don't know what it was"

Lips pursed tight, he looked up from his phone, and all of a sudden that music in the background was suffocating. He quickly reached over and shut it off. He needed to be able to divert all of his attention to one thing. Except, even though he should have been spazzing over her spotting them (even if just for a split second), a concern crept up in the back of his mind that made him scoff at himself. The need to know was too great.

His eyes fell on his scaled, three-fingered hand as he typed.

"Did it scare you?"

Perhaps it wasn't what he should have been focusing on. But he was. He knew she hadn't seen much, but what if she quipped that it was frightening, or gross, or…?

"I don't know, Bo

I guess it was kind of freaky

Uh, do you actually believe me? That I saw something?"

"'Freaky?'" he repeated to himself in a whisper, brow ridge furrowed. What was I expecting?

He had to shake himself of whatever was going on in his head at the moment, because there were more pressing matters at hand. Like what he was going to answer her question with. Theoretically, he could go two routes; one, invalidate the experience and try to walk on the line of telling her that it was not real without making her feel crazy. And then probably get mad at him. Or two, go along with it, if he didn't have the heart to do that to her. The answer was already here; he let out a deep sigh. Two, it is.

Nothing could make him want to make her feel that way, even if it meant he'd have to put in a little extra effort in fixing his mistake.

"I wouldn't doubt your judgement, [y/n]."

"Thanks

That makes me feel a lot better

You're a really good guy, Bo :)"

Freezing, he sat and stared at the screen before slowly taking the phone away from his face, lips moving, but no sound coming out. He had no idea what to say; all he could focus on was the fact that the girl he undeniably liked thought he was a good guy. And that, presumably, it meant she might have liked him as well. Big on the "might", he realized as the logical part of his mind took over once again. Regardless, he licked his lips and got to preparing a worthy response. He didn't want to come off as flustered as he felt. Donnie was aware he was not particularly suave—he took solace in the fact that she couldn't see his face or hear his voice. He contemplated on acting a bit more "cool guy" than he actually was, but wanted her to like him for him, not a facade. Which was a major contradiction to all that he had done up to that point, but the least he could do was be the person he was on the inside!

"You there?"

"Sorry, I got distracted…

You really think so?"

"That I think you're a great guy?"

"Well...yes."

"Totally. 100%"

His heart was going, he was stammering to himself, and a new feeling enveloped him. He was no stranger to the different emotions; he'd gotten familiar with many of them. Because though he didn't always show it, he had a lot of feelings. These, he felt most viscerally. But he had to get back on track. If he could push last night's incident under the rug, all would be well. More well than it already was, considering.

"Thank you, [y/n]

To be honest, I've never had a friend like you

So, do you want to talk more about what you saw? I know I'm switching tracks quickly, it's just very….interesting."

It was a jarring and awkward subject change, he knew that, but he desperately wanted to get it out of the way. The sooner, the better.

"I suppose

You seem pretty interested in it"

Maybe she wasn't hanging onto the experience like he'd thought she would. There were so many tales of people seeing inexplicable things and becoming enraptured by the experience that he guessed he should only expect the worst, but it appeared that she was not so obsessed. Crisis averted?

"Not too much, I was just wondering

We can forget about it."

"Oh, I'm not going to forget about it, Bo"

There it is, he thought, not surprised.

After thirty minutes of attempting to throw her off without coming off as suspicious himself, he had to take a breather, reorganize his mind. Only to come back and find that she had to go take care of things, and that she'd talk to him later. He'd done as much fixing as he could; at that point, it was as good as it was going to get. The thought of being looked for by his unknowing friend loomed about in the coming weeks as they did their patrols, when they would pass by her residence, and the times that he snuck off to stop by himself. Sometimes accompanied by Mikey, but he tried to keep it as solitary as possible. Soon, watching her on her balcony from that roof became part of his routine. He vaguely thought sometimes that watching her like that could be considered creepy, but that ship had already sailed.

For the third time in the last month he was there yet again, on the same roof, watching the same balcony, watching the same girl. Sometimes they texted, sometimes they didn't. The times he wasn't talking to her as he sat there were the times he daringly crossed the threshold onto the fire escape. There were only a few instances of that. But did he still feel out of his mind doing so? Yes. The window only looked into part of the living room and kitchen, but he felt scandalous to do it. Most of his time there was spent only with his shell against the wall next to the window, just out of sight. He could always hear her faint but noticeable footsteps coming and could easily vault the railing and climb up or drop down. She couldn't get past his keen hearing unless she knew to tread lightly.

Mikey was with him once again, this time out to look for scrap rather than patrol. He'd been buddied up with his younger brother more often ever since their talk that night in Donnie's room. They only stopped by because they were already out and had a viable excuse.

"Does she know about us? Like, me, Leo, Raph..." rambled Mikey, curious, as he practiced one of his new moves with his skateboard. He kicked up onto the ledge of the roof and skidded before hopping off, tucking the board under his arm. "You guys have been together like, what, two months? And she doesn't even know your name."

Fiddling with the strap reaching around his shoulder, Donnie replied matter-of-factly to hide the embarrassment that was ailing him at the thought, "Okay, for starters, we're not 'together'. And secondly, she hasn't mentioned voice chatting in a while."

"And?" He got back on his board, zooming by Donnie.

"My name? It just hasn't come up," Donnie shrugged.

"Call her, then!" Mikey smiled, still preoccupied with his board and trying out his new tricks. Donnie gave a light scoff and shook his head. His brother passed behind him where he sat leaned against the water tower.

"I don't want to just call her out of nowhere, Mikey, she might be asleep."

He also didn't want his brother there when he did.

"You gotta not be so shy!...oh, look, in the window. Right there. See? She's up," he quipped with a small smirk. The curtain was drawn, but the light had turned on at some point, and they could see her silhouette moving past. Donnie looked over his shoulder to say something but felt a hand slip into his pocket on the other side, stealing his phone right off of him. He was fast, but Mikey was faster in jumping into his board and gliding all the way to the other side of the roof with the fussy turtle hot on his trail.

"Mikey, quit it!" Donnie barked, lunging toward him for the phone.

"You'll thank me later!"

The two wrestled for the phone, Mikey holding it just out of reach as he tried to navigate the screen without dropping it.

"Come on," grunted Donnie as the tussle led them near the edge, where Mikey held it precariously over the alley below. His glasses were jostled off his face when a stray hand bumped them, causing them to fall amongst their feet. Squinting, he partially knelt down and searched for the pair while still looking at his brother and his phone, trying to stretch his arm long enough to snatch it. "Really?" he groaned, "just give me the phone!"

Donnie slung out his staff and used the other end to whack his wrist from underneath just as he pulled away from the edge, losing his grip on the phone. Mikey tried to catch it but it bounced off his hand, going right over the side of the roof and plummeting down into the alley.

Mikey froze. Donnie finally found his glasses.

Laughing nervously, Mikey turned back to him, "Whoops…"

When he didn't immediately find the phone on the ground, Donnie knew what happened. He looked over the edge, and there it was, sitting on the pavement in the alleyway. The building wasn't incredibly tall, but enough to do some major damage. He'd have to switch for one of his spares if he didn't want to deal with a busted-up screen.

"I don't need your 'help', Mikey, so leave it alone next time," Donnie said and gave him a narrow-eyed look, huffing as he leaped down to retrieve it.

Mikey may have been insistent, but he knew then it was time to stop. All he wanted to do was help. For his shy, flakey brother to come out of his shell (no pun intended). Donnie, at that time, had the biggest shot out of all of them for something unique and good. He hadn't yet worked out the logistics of how to bridge the gap between the two, but it was a calling of his to help him along.

Donnie watched for people from behind a corner before creeping out to get the phone, which was face down on the concrete. No doubt cracked to all hell if not completely shattered, though it did have a case.

But as he got closer, he heard a voice. From the phone.

He picked up the phone timidly and shot a glance up at the roof, where Mikey was peeking over the edge in apprehension. Without a word, Donnie activated the taser in his staff, pointing it at his brother and zapping it briefly. He flinched and retreated out of sight.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Bo?" she asked again, tone riddled with confusion. "What was that?"

"Uh, yes—hol—hold on, please," stammered out donnie, flying around the corner and pressing flat against the wall as a group of laughing people passed by the alley. "Just one second," he said nervously. Above him, Mikey was rapidly motioning for him to get up there, eyes wide and body trying to stay low. Baffled, Donnie gestured back at him, mouthing at him to keep his pants on for one more minute while he made his way up.

"Hey, what's going on there?" she inquired, concerned.

A street cat abruptly skittered out from between his legs from the dumpster he stood next to, and he had to stifle a startled yelp. He hopped up onto the nearest fire escape, trying to control his breathing. "Hey, hello…[y/n]," he half-chuckled, distracted by working up the building one-armed as he kept as quiet as possible.

"What was all that? And who's 'Mikey'?"

There was suddenly a shout—Mikey's shout—and his stomach did a jump. He sputtered as fast as he could, "I'm sorry [y/n] but this really isn't a good time, and I mean it really isn't," he pulled himself up onto the roof, and there was Mikey, fending off men clad in black, "so I have to go, but—"

"Don, dude! I need help over here!" cried his brother, sliding out of the way as a sword was jabbed towards him. He countered with a harsh uppercut to the man's chin, sending him stumbling backwards. The blade fell to the concrete with a clank.

"'Don'? Bo, what the hell?! Who is with you? And—"

Donnie jumped into the battle, a mix of nine or ten armed men with swords other weapons, and Mikey trying to stave them off, swinging his chucks with nothing short of reckless abandon. But he still didn't hit himself with them.

Ending the call, he secured the phone in his pocket. He wailed the guy closest to him in the side of the head with the heavy staff, then kicked him in the chest. The man fell to the blow, and Mikey ducked underneath the length of Donnie's weapon just in time as the two came together. Stray bullets flew past them, some colliding with their shells as they spun around for protection.

"How was it?!" Mikey yelled over the clamor, breathless. Donnie sidestepped from the rapid hit he sent towards the human to his left.

"What are you talking about?!" Donnie loudly questioned, flummoxed of what could have been going on in his brain during a fight. "We're kind of in the middle of something here!"

"Your phone call!"

"Yeah, the hell's the talkin' about, Don?" a gruff voice cut through the jumble.

Both of the boys whirled around to see their older brothers there, weapons drawn.

"Oh, right. As soon as I saw those bad guys coming, I let them know," said Mikey casually to Donnie, throwing his fist into the face of the man coming up behind him. "You know, standard biz."

With the rest of the team there, the fight was over twice as fast. Some groaning in pain and some unconscious bodies littering the area, along with their weapons. Leo finished the last one and sheathed his swords, eyes on their tallest brother while Raph kept watch around them. Donnie swallowed as Leo approached him.

"Don, you said you were going out for scrap metal," Leo stated.

In the background, Mikey grabbed his skateboard and was going to try to kickflip over one of the knocked out guys, but Raph yanked the board from him, growling. He checked all of the men to make sure they were down and would stay down.

"We were...just on our way back?" Donnie answered. Nearby, there was a small pile of scrap he'd collected, though definitely not enough to justify being out that long.

"So you stopped at your friend's place?" Leo deadpanned, crossing his arms. "Didn't you think that this could get her in trouble, too? Her apartment's right there, dude!"

Mikey budded in and corrected him, "Ah, we stopped by [y/n]'s. And nah! It's all good."

Donnie's face twitched. "Of course I thought about it! That's why I've only come here three times since, and only thirty minute intervals!" he bit back, throwing his hands up. The rest of his brothers all looked at him and his specificity. "I'm not naive, Leo."

The leader pushed past the both of them, signalling that it was time to leave, and they followed. Not before Donnie got what little metal he had collected and put away his staff, tucking the stuff under his arm. Raph joined alongside Donnie as they ran. "What's with all the secret' stuff, Don? First, ya hide it to begin with, then, ya make out like you were done, and now you get jumped by Foot guys by her place when you shoulda been gettin' scrap!" he said. "How were we supposed to cover for ya if you're lyin' even after we let you off?"

"Technically, I did get some!" Donnie remarked. He held up a piece of the scrap for him to see, and Raph snorted. "But..."

Well, his question would be a little harder to answer.

Next block was the nearest manhole, where each turtle swiftly jumped in, knowing by heart (and years of wandering) most of the sewers and the way back home. In some tunnels was Mikey's telltale graffiti, but it was scattered throughout the place enough to not be a giant arrow to their hideout. In the last portion of the run was the tunnel they always slid down, and once they were actually home, Donnie knew what was coming. Master Splinter was already waiting for them by the time they arrived.

"Uh-oh," Mikey said upon seeing him, sinking behind his brothers. Raph pushed him back up front.

Dropping the scrap in his arms, Donnie squeaked, "That's not good." He quietly cursed how high pitched his voice became when he was nervous.

"Yeah…" Leo cleared his throat, looking down at his hands clasped in front of him. The situation had an awkward tension for everyone in it, save for Raph, who was immune to it by then and Splinter himself. "We took care of the soldiers," he added more seriously. "Got out of there before too much attention was drawn.

"The police may be able to handle them from here, but it will not make a dent in the Shredder's forces," explained Splinter, grave as he paced along the line of brothers. "He owns the city. Until I say so, there will be no venturing to the surface. You are all lucky to be unharmed."

"That ain't it," Raph piped up. "But they'll be bringin' the big guns, next time."

"Oh, I am well aware."

"Um...of which thing?" the nervous turtle questioned, exchanging glances to Raph and then Mikey.

Splinter raised his brows knowingly, and that was all it took for Donnie. The floodgates of his signature anxious chatter opened. He grabbed the edge of Mikey's shell and pulled him over into the spotlight with him, "I met someone over an online game and we started texting after a few weeks, and—and Leo found out and I said I would stop, but we never told you," he gestured toward their brother in blue, who refused to make eye contact, "so I told her that it was through and then Mikey somehow convinced me to go back on it," he sucked in a breath, and Mikey grinned uncomfortably, "and then we started talking again and I don't know why, but I went back there to her apartment building and it was just…stupid."

There was a cumbrous pause. Donnie was stiff as a board, Mikey couldn't look at any one thing too long, Leo stood in his polite but awkward stance, and Raph started to whistle.

As poised as ever, Splinter spoke. "I know."

All four pairs of eyes shot to their father.

"What?"

"Uh..."

"Huh?"

"Wait."

They expressed their collective confusion at the same time, and Splinter chuckled. Donnie wanted nothing more than to be able to retreat into his shell, but that was physically impossible. "Nothing gets past me, especially not you and your nervous habits, Donatello. You are scratching that spot on your neck again, son."

Flinching, Donnie pulled his hand away. He'd be damned; Splinter was right.

But unbeknownst to them, there had been spectator of their fight on the roof that night.

————————————————————————————————

shh do not think too deeply about this my children

a/n: haha plot device go brrrr

i need to finish this cursed fanfiction

[cherry-lipbalm]

survival of the fittest. spencer reid.

5.3k words.

masterlist

“ If they were to somehow get out of here alive, she was certain it would only be one of them. ”

three hours earlier

Y/N was ready to go home - more than ready. They'd gotten back from a hard hitting case in Boston, touching down by early afternoon meant they were expected back at the HQ, which henceforth meant piles of paperwork were in their future. Y/N knew her complaining would only go reprimanded by Hotch, so she kept to herself in her cubicle, shoved into the corner of the bullpen, and desperate to get the documents out of the way.

Over the scribbling of her pen, she heard the mutterings of Morgan and Reid's conversation beside the latter's desk not too far away from her own. She sighed in defeat, because she knew she wouldn't be able to resist joining them, especially when the opportunity arose to take the mickey at Spencer.

When it did inevitably arise, she pushed herself away from her desk and allowed the wheels on her chair to escort her over to the men. At the sound of jagged rolling, Morgan stepped aside to make space for her to insert herself, a snide smug painted on his face.

"Did I just hear the word 'Spencer' and 'girl' in the same sentence?" She asked, leaning on the armrest to shove her shit-eating grin into Spencer's face; he only rolled his eyes and gave an insincere 'ha ha'.

"Your ears did not deceive you, baby girl," Morgan said, receiving a smack on the arm from Spencer. The warning stare he gave him almost made Y/N stop pestering him. Only almost.

"Oh my! Spill the beans, who is she?" Y/N gushed, steering her chair even closer to the Doctor while Morgan watched on amusedly.

"There isn't a she," he grumbled, head bowed to his paperwork in the hopes that if he ignored the Agents they'd just go away.

"...a he?"

"No!" Spencer exclaimed, snapping his head upwards.

"Hey! It's no skin off my nose, Spence."

He groaned, then turned back to his work and allowed for Morgan and Y/N to exchange a glance as they both tried to hold back snickers at their friend's flustered existence.

She stayed huddled around with them for a few more minutes, but as soon as she saw the clock hit 5, she jumped from her chair and kicked it back to her desk. Announcing that she was off, she began to gather and pack her things. While she did so, she heard Spencer make the same announcement.

"You're off earlier than usual," she called back, "let me guess... Doctor Who marathon?"

Spencer's smile gave him away; Y/N chuckled and draped her coat over her shoulders, standing by his desk while he adjusted his satchel.

"Busy man," she commented, then proceeded to listen to whatever sci-fi related ramble Spencer was emitting, interjecting with exclamations of intrigue or surprise whenever she deemed suitable (they were all timed guesses, but she didn't waver once).

"...Christopher Eccleston is actually the second favourite, despite the fact that a lot of people skip his season, but he has a 52% popularity–"

"Wait, why do people skip his season?"

"Oh, because he preceded David Tennant. He's the favourite, with a 69% popularity."

"Ha, 69," Y/N muttered under her breath with a crude smirk. Spencer only gave a restrained smile and raised his eyebrows. The two fell into a silence, except from a 'thank you' Y/N said softly when Spencer opened the door for her.

The elevator button illuminated under her touch, and they stood in front of the steel doors, awaiting their opening. Y/N tapped her foot senselessly, and Spencer rolled on the balls of his heels.

In amidst the silence, Y/N looked up to Spencer and they exchanged a warm smile. The beep of the elevator distracted them, and after stepping aside to let people out, they ambled in and finally relaxed when the doors closed on them again.

"Today was relentless," Y/N sighed, checking her watch.

"Have any plans?" Spencer asked, out of courtesy.

"Well, I have to head to the repair store to pick up my phone, but after that there's leftover Chinese food in the fridge with my name written all over it," she chuckled.

"What happened? To your phone?"

"Morgan happened," was all she said. Spencer joined in on her judgement even though he didn't know the story, he did know that 'Derek Morgan' was simply a reason in itself that didn't warrant an explanation. Then, they lulled in the return of silence.

It wasn't until the elevator jerked and came to a sudden stop that the two spoke again.

"That's not right," Spencer muttered, and he immediately began to jab at the ground floor button before Y/N smacked his hands away, because she was already deep in a panic, so it was even worse when the next astounding jerk hit. She screamed when they were thrown off balance, and hoped she hadn't got a concussion from where she collided with the back wall upon the motion.

"What the hell?" She panted. They came to a still, but it made her even more nervous because she knew they hadn't been in there long enough to reach their floor. That, and the fact that they had just ripped through the air at about a hundred miles per hour.

Spencer's eyes furrowed, and he licked his lips in the way he did when he was focused on something. Judging by the way he assessed the doors, Y/N thought he was about to pull some thwarted stunt, or more likely reel off some facts about steel.

"I think something's wrong," he mumbled.

"No shit, Sherlock,"

"Ah, elementary my dear Watson," Spencer replied so quickly that Y/N was almost inclined to believe it made any sense.

"Did you know that Sherlock Holmes never actually said that? Sir Arthur Conan Doyle never wrote those words, they were only adapted into the movies years later-"

"Oh my god, Spencer, are we stuck in this elevator?" Y/N shrieked, her knuckles whitening under her tight clutch of the hand rails on the wall: half from fear and the other from frustration.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I think so."

Upon Spencer's bluntness, she stepped forward, desperate for any attempt of an escape plan, she began pressing the ground floor button repeatedly; when that didn't work, she resorted to aimlessly smashing all the buttons on offer. 

"That's– that's really not gonna do anything," Spencer said in the background.

"Do you have a better idea?" She snapped, turning to him with a glare before resuming her actions.

"Try the - try that one!" He pointed to the red button with an alarm bell engraved on it, and Y/N felt stupid under his stare for not noticing it before. She pressed it, and the ringing noise that emitted from it seemed to do nothing but that: ring. She was certain someone was supposed to come to their aid through a speaker, so she pushed it continuously, but derived nothing further. At least she gained some comfort in the panic of Spencer's voice that told her he was shitting himself as much as she was.

"It's not doing anything!" She cried, and when he leaned over her and pressed it too, she bit her tongue and raised her eyebrows to tell him 'see?', infuriated at the fact that he thought she could be somehow pushing a button wrong. But, then again, she'd have been even more angry if he'd done it and it had worked.

When it didn't, she alternated to the next best thing.

"Help!" She yelled, slamming her palms against the doors. She didn't know what floor they'd been wedged at (or even if they were just floating in some space between levels), but someone had to hear them; they were bound to...right?

Spencer seemed to think so at least, because he was joining her in pounding his fists on the steel. Sooner rather than later, the harsh echo made Y/N's ears ring, so she stopped and took a step back.

"Well, this is great," she sighed, slumping in a lean on the wall as she rubbed her temples.

"I'm gonna miss Doctor Who," Spencer whined, pouting.

Y/N just rolled her eyes at him and told him to call somebody. She was sure she'd seen JJ just before they left, still huddled in her office; hopefully she'd be able to call maintenance and they could be released from this death trap of a machine.

"I can't, my phone died. Use yours."

"What?"

"My phone's flat, can you use yours?"

Y/N just stared at him. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt because the adrenaline rush of panic can make memories a bit hazy, but her skin was flustering under the rage she was feeling, her forehead was already beginning to perspire and the walls were so small and entrapping and - is it hot in here or just her?

"My phones at the store," she reminded him through gritted teeth, and watched his composure fall in both comprehension and defeat.

"Great," he remarked.

"Oh, like it's my fault?"

"Well, it's not mine."

"And it's not mine either so don't talk to me like that!"

It was only a short exchange, but it made Y/N's blood boil; if they were to somehow get out of here alive, she was certain it would only be one of them.

Spencer gulped, and Y/N was sure that had he the opportunity to he would be storming away right about now, but unfortunately for the both of them that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. The wonderful reality of this hitting Y/N, she kicked off her shoes and planted her bum down on the floor.

Spencer looked at her curiously while she did this, then quirked his lip and proceeded to do the same. He used his satchel as a pillow to support his head, and sighed loudly (it seemed deliberate just how exaggerative it was).

"No one is ever gonna find us here," Y/N said.

"We're not dying–"

"You don't know that. We could be suffocating as we speak-"

"Suffocation is impossible in elevators: the cars are designed not to be airtight and there's vents that allow air to move in and out," he pointed up at the grated opening above Y/N's head. At being proved wrong by Spencer and his big, unfathomable brain, she crossed her arms much like a stroppy toddler and even pouted her lip.

"We could still die," she mumbled.

"The statistics of that are still very unlikely; in fact, the people that die the most in elevators are elevator technicians themselves. An average of 26 people die in elevators every year in America–"

"And you're ready to be one of those 26?"

"We're not going to be. We won't suffocate, and it hasn't fallen."

"Yet," she said. "Plus, theres other ways to die. Like, I don't know, murder perhaps?" She said with a potent glare in his direction. He gave her a blank stare partnered with a sarcastic smile, one that only made Y/N more devoted to her other-ways-to-die initiative.

"We just have to wait a while... Did you know the longest duration of time someone was stuck in an elevator was 41 hours? Nicholas White. And all he had to eat was a packet of Rolaids."

More than accustomed to tuning out Spencer's rambles, Y/N barely heard what he was talking about, in a dazed trance where she was focused intently on where the paint didn't match the wall, she was so invested she almost missed what he said.

"Wait... oh my god. Do you have food?" She asked, sitting up from her subsided posture.

Spencer's face softened in dread, which didn't bring any aid nor optimism to their situation.

She watched him sit forward, shoving hands into the pockets of his blazer, coat, trousers and pulling out nothing but a few crumpled pieces of paper. Y/N matched him with an empty gum wrapper and a Walmart receipt displaying a concerning amount of pregnancy tests she had purchased last month.

"Do I even wanna know?" Spencer asked, chucking it back to the ground with a grimace as if it was riddled with germs (it probably was but, still).

"All you need to know is that I'm not pregnant," Y/N scoffed, almost amicably, but her eyebrows creased and she was back to a fuck everything this sucks expression in less than a second.

"Well we can't survive on this."

"You really haven't brought any food?" Spencer pestered.

"No, I had Chinese leftovers on the cards for tonight. And I don't see you offering anything up; what's your excuse?"

Spencer only groaned, again. He kicked his feet out and let his head fall onto the wall back in the same place. He ran a hand through his hair, and the scarce gel he had used to keep it in place disassembled around his face in random strays of curls. The sight of him relaxing like he was settling in for the night didn't appease Y/N one bit.

While Spencer closed his eyes, Y/N got to her feet and decided slamming on the door again was a better pastime. Spencer, however, did not agree.

At the banging, Spencer's eyes shot open and his body shook in alarm. His eyes darted around the space frantically until they landed on Y/N's figure aligned with the doors on which she was unleashing hell. If yelling could open an elevator, they'd have been out in a jiffy.

"I think we've established that doesn't help," Spencer said.

"Then you help!" She shouted, continuing the thrashing of metal.

"How?"

"I don't know!" Her shriek echoed, and she yet again gave up on the violence. "Use that big brain of yours and find us a way out of here."

"The 7 steps to surviving being stuck on an elevator are fundamental; we've already done them. They include pressing the open button, the alarm and call button. We still have our light source, otherwise finding one would have been number two. We've tried yelled for help. The only one we haven't done is stayed calm," he said with a heavy emphasis in her direction. Currently, she was the epitome of panic.

Y/N furrowed a brow at him, "That's six. What's number seven?"

She watched Spencer inhale deeply before he told her, "wait it out."

Y/N felt her heart sink. The possibility of her going insane while being confined within this space was only increasing as the minutes passed by. And with that, she felt like oxygen was depleting alongside it. She took a big breath to remind her that there was still air to breathe, and Spencer caught sight of it.

"Are... are you claustrophobic?"

"No!"

His eyes widened at her outburst, and he even raised his hands in defence should the situation present itself, which was looking pretty inevitable.

"I'm not, I just... get a little... panicked, that's all."

"You don't say," he murmured, and —with a grunt— got to his feet again. He treaded towards the damned doors. Y/N thought he was going to bang on them again, and she took front-row seat on the floor to watch the imprudent, futile attempt. Instead, Spencer's long arachnid-like fingers dug into the crevice of the doors and he tried to pry them open. This was an even vainer approach; his strained groans showed such.

"It's no use. We're gonna be here for a while. I can offer you a juice carton," Y/N spoke, making Spencer turn attentively at the word 'juice'. He looked down to where she was rummaging through her bag and depositing a few random objects while she did so. In a very Mary Poppins like fashion, the entities incessantly kept coming and coming, gathering in remarkable piles on the floor. There seemed to be more things than space available, but then they were trapped in an elevator and space was one of the many luxuries the agents realised they had taken for granted. Despite his astonishment at the growing belongings, there seemed to be a concerning lack of food present.

She was, however, holding out an apple juice carton, and Spencer figured that you get what you're given. So while her attention focused to the remnants of whatever was in her bag, Spencer punctured the carton with the straw, and began sucking. He made a squeal of surprise and relief when he saw her pull out a feebly wrapped, half eaten bag of crackers.

"Oh, I forgot about these," she announced, with the first smile Spencer had seen from her since the elevator had broken down.

He leaned down to grab the bag, dusting off the sprayed crumbs and then took a seat to Y/N's left. He left space between them for chivalrous purposes and also to allow space for the bag of crackers to sit.

They made attempts to ration the snack, but it soon developed into an every man for himself situation when Y/N noticed Spencer had started to take two at once.

She wasn't even hungry anymore, but the hunger for beating Spencer at something prevailed and disregarded any logical thought that they ought to save food, so she dove in again for another cracker. Unluckily, she did so at the same time as Spencer, so it made for an awkward encounter when their hands collided but neither was willing to give up their slot in the bag.

Eventually (because they didn't want the other to notice their blush), they gave up when time ran too long and reached a compromise with halving the cracker. Y/N gave Spencer the bigger half of her failed equal snap, but neither of them addressed it.

Neither of them addressed anything actually, for the next... god knows how long they were cooped up in there. They sat in a pleasant silence, free from any awkward glances or trepidations: it was both from the fact that they were in their own heads, and a serendipitous comfort in one another.

"I'm sorry you're going to miss your Doctor Who... thing," was what broke the silence.

"Oh, it's okay. I can just watch it on repeat tomorrow."

"Okay," Y/N laughed softly, and they floated into another quiet.

"I'm sorry you're stuck in an elevator."

"Ha! Me too."

"When we get out of here maybe we can go for Chinese food," Spencer suggested, craning his neck to look at her with a discreet smile.

"Sure," she agreed. "By the time we get out my food at home might have rotten anyway."

And then time after that just... passed. In Spencer's satchel he had an uncanny assortment of reading material to thrive on, and amid her odd collection of pretty much everything she had ever owned, Y/N found an old MP3 player and some earphones (only the left ear worked, but it was as good entertainment as she was going to get).

There comes a point, though, when one person can only listen to so much music from their teen years; Y/N's taste back then was... questionable, to say the least. And her earphone seemed to agree with her, because it gave out just when the unmistakable sound of an NSYNC song began.

"Ugh, just when it was getting good!" She complained, tugging the bud from her ear and throwing it onto the miscellaneous pile.

Spencer's head quirked to Y/N, but his eyes only followed after he had finished a sentence on his page. When he did, he saw her curiously leaning over his shoulder and squinting at the words.

"You can borrow it if you want," he said. "This is my third time reading it and I have others."

He gestured to his pile, which had evolved into a makeshift bookcase in the corner of the elevator. A few pages were torn, and the spines were so worn down that she could barely make out what the titles were. Not from a lack of TLC, but rather copious amounts of it; having been read over and over again. 

"No, it's okay. You continue, I'll just... meditate, or something."

"It's a good book," Spencer said, and he sounded like he was trying to persuade her, so she gave in and nodded. Readjusting her posture, she focused again on where the paint didn't meet the wall as she listened to the one thing she thought she wouldn't ever be able to stand: Spencer Reid's voice.

———

Which, to her and Reid's surprise, she found quite calming. Her hidden envy and not so hidden annoyance with his ability to reel off facts and wisdom like he was only recalling what he had for dinner hindered any fondness Y/N could associate with his voice. Until now, that is.

He was reading Strangers on a Train, supposedly his third favourite book, and they were reaching "the best bit" according to Spencer, but then every bit within the past forty five minutes since he'd started reading had been "the best bit", so Y/N wasn't sure.

But she's pretty calm, as calm as she can be stuck in an elevator, so she's actually thankful she has Spencer of all people beside her. She knew that if Morgan was in his place they'd have attempted murder at least a couple times by now; not to say that Y/N hadn't considered stabbing Spencer at all, but there's only so much damage a blunt pencil at the bottom of her bag could do.

So, she's calm. She's barely following the story because she only joined in halfway through, but she's grasped the basis of it because Spencer reads so eloquently and so well that he's practically painted the vividness of the narrative for her, even though he vouches it's down to Patricia Highsmith's words, which is true, but Spencer has a role in it too.

One thing Spencer recites makes Y/N wonder why she's never had him read to her before.

"People, feelings, everything! Double! Two people in each person. There's also a person exactly the opposite of you, like the unseen part of you, somewhere in the world, and he waits in ambush."

The story portrays an uncanny resemblance to the plots of the abundant crime scenes they analyse daily (Y/N wonders how Spencer comes home from work only to read about the same gory instances): the same mannerisms, behaviours and intricate understanding of criminal attitudes. It's accuracy is so astounding that Y/N asks if the author was ever a profiler of sorts.

Although it's selfish, because Y/N is not the real victim, she wished there was some way Highsmith's words could spring into real life and provide tainted rose coloured spectacles to which she could observe reality through. In some sick way, Y/N needed to see beauty in things like murder. She sometimes forgot that what they were doing had a purpose, and they tended to be the good guys. But there was no writing beautiful enough for Spencer to read and glorify the crimes with.

But even Y/N thinks Spencer's reading could help her see life through more of the silver lining rather than shrouded by the dark cloud that accompanied it.

The moment of rare serenity within Spencer's words is suspended, however, when he suddenly stops with no obvious justification. Y/N wonders if she's missed something profound within the story again so she goes to read over them on the page this time (because she's been rather entranced in Spencer's voice rather than the actual words), except when she looks up she sees a look of horror depicted on Spencer's face: one that doesn't register with her primarily because what's happening in the story is rather quite mundane compared to the dismay on his face. It's so poignant that she thinks something must be fatally wrong.

"What is it?" She asks, sitting up (and away because she thinks he may be about to vomit. But no, the real reason is even more horrific).

"I need to pee."

Y/N gasps; she hadn't even conjectured this predicament. It was a basic human necessity, how had she not anticipated this would happen? At first she thought, hey it's not that bad, better him than me— he can stand. Until she realises that there isn't really anywhere to stand.

"Oh no," she whispers, and he looks at her dauntingly. "You shouldn't have drank that apple juice."

"What was I supposed to do, bathe in it?" He scorns, and the two connect in an unwavering exchange eye contact with one another. Y/N dreads looking away in fear of what he'll do when she has her back turned.

So, like I said, Y/N was pretty calm, and I'd say Spencer was too; reading was a delight, and he found Y/N almost as endearing (almost). Life was bearable until Spencer needed to pee.

And it is here that they throw all peace out the window (if there was one) and give up on step number seven, and instead say hello to their old friend step number five: frantic yelling.

The energy pent up from lazing around reading and being read to is released fairly effectively. Y/N thinks she's never screamed so loud in her life, and Spencer knows he hasn't: entrapment and a full bladder can take one hell of a toll on a man.

And when the profusion of footsteps and the clanging of doors sounds, it is glorious. It is what they imagine heaven to sound like and more. Y/N collapses to the ground in relief, and Spencer throws his hands up in a prayer of thanks (even though he doesn't necessarily believe, but he is just so high on adrenaline and the discomfort of needing a wee that he'd just about believe anything now if it meant he could get to a bathroom).

"You guys okay in there?" A voice calls in from above them (Spencer genuinely thinks it's God) and Y/N has never been more happy to hear Derek Morgan.

"We're good! We're good! Oh my god, get us out of here please!"

"Right on it, baby. Bet y'all thought you were gonna die in there, huh?"

"Worse," Y/N called, "I thought I was gonna have to see Spencer's dick!"

Morgan laughed (music to their ears: any voice that wasn't each other's fit that criteria in that moment), and then told her he didn't want to know. Spencer and Y/N heard him holler behind him, and even more footsteps approached. Y/N couldn't see much from the slither between the doors that had just been pried open, since they had fallen a considerable distance from their floor. What she could see was only half of Morgan's face while he knelt on the ground.

"What happened?" Spencer asked, trying to gain some understanding for the reason behind missing his Doctor Who marathon.

"Power cut. The whole city's in blackout."

"You're kidding," Y/N replied, then turned. "A whole lotta people just risked that 1 in 26."

"Us included," Spencer said.

They recognised the voices of the maintenance team, and even a few uniforms of firefighters that worked on opening the doors with as much force as they could muster. Y/N looked again to the wall and paint mismatch, finding it too unsettling to look at their rescue attempt (that had way too much potential to go wrong) and even more unsettling to look at Spencer who was practically cradling his crotch.

"Ladies first!" A fireman called, and his hand reached into the space they had managed to (barely) increase, hoping that it wouldn't prove to be too difficult. From what Morgan told them, Spencer wouldn't have any trouble getting through it if they had halved the space ("the kid's a sherbet stick, I'm telling you").

"No, we've got a man here who's about to explode," Y/N joked, forgetting that the word 'explode' is a term one should use lightly within the headquarters of the FBI. She was blissfully reminded of this when the few surrounding agents brandished their guns. They almost didn't let them out until Spencer yelled that if he didn't get to a bathroom that instant he would give them a real reason to get their guns out.

So he was lifted out first, falling into Morgan's arms the chance he got to. He, somehow, managed to wait until he saw Y/N definitely leave the elevator before racing off down the hallway. Maintenance didn't even bother telling him that the doors have been locked because officially work finished three hours ago; they figured he had enough vigour in him to knock a wall down, never mind a door.

"Are you alright?" Morgan asked Y/N, lifting her up onto her own to feet. She's given a shock blanket, which is a pretty cool souvenir.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Miraculously. I don't know how you survived in there with him; I'd go insane."

"Eh," she chuckled, "he's not too bad."

———

After gathering their belongings, Y/N and Spencer make their way to leave work, again.

Morgan's nonchalant explanation of the blackout is in no way accurate to the genuine portrayal of, what Y/N can only describe as, a thriller movie come to life. She's looking out the wide scale windows in the bullpen room and can only see her reflection. It's creepy. Skittishly, she jumps when Spencer's image shows up behind her own. 

"Jesus, haven't I had enough near death experiences tonight?" She asks, holding a hand over her heart that she's sure just kickstarted (for various reasons).

"Sorry," he laughs. Placing his hands in his pockets, Y/N can sense he's more relaxed now that he's peed and no longer trapped within the restrictions of one metre.

They smile, then look out again to the darkened abyss before them. Y/N has never seen the city so quiet, yet she knows it's anything but. Once she steps outside it's bound to be hectic central.

"You normally get the subway, what are you gonna do?"

"Oh, I guess I'll just walk," Spencer shrugs.

"Absolutely not. I'll drive you home."

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that—"

"Spence, I just spent the last three hours in a confined space with you, I'm sure I can do twenty minutes more," she said. "Get your stuff ready, we can head off now."

She swung her bag over her shoulder and turned to walk out the bullpen, her heels reverberating throughout the room. Spencer watched her stride out by her reflection in the window, as to not be caught staring.

"If my car breaks down I'm gonna commit murder!"

Spencer laughed loudly, which made Y/N smile as she passed the kitchenette. When he continued to chuckle to himself he realised he wouldn't mind another three more hours stuck with her— at least he'd have an excuse if the car broke down. Maybe if he set off now he could get there in time to beat Y/N to her car and slash the tyres. He kindly reminded himself that that's illegal while he retrieved his satchel off the back of his chair and strutted out the office.

He wasn't too far behind Y/N when he suggested getting a Chinese on the way back.

"Is that a date?"

"If eating a Chinese takeaway in your car is your idea of a date," he sang.

"It very much is," Y/N grinned irrefutably.

He held the door open for her, she said thank you, and their giddy (dare I say lovesick) smiles dropped when they faced the elevator.

They've taken the stairs every day since.

fin.

[sweetestlamb]

Unexpected

Summary: Accidental relationships are the worst. 

Author's note: A silly little drabble(it's like 5k so idk if it's a drabble lol) I created based on an image @prodmina made for me, this is not related to BMTL at all-it's just a side dish I'm offering to my Junjin lovers. A few days ago we both noticed that these two don't really get much fluff without some angst(I'm guilty of this too so no judgement just an observation) Hence this was created, it's just a one-shot because this idea wouldn't leave my mind. This community is well fed but here's some more food for the hungry. And yes my page break this time is Sujin's sexy leg, I have no regrets.

They've been in the same school for as long as she can remember, her striving to be the best student only second to one and him seemingly showing up to drool on the nearest surface and give the female population heart palpitations. She's thankfully not one of his victims- having actual standards and a fully functional hippocampus; ergo while most girls are drawing hearts on their notebooks with Han Seojun opposite their name, she is turning her nose up at them judging them for their lack of foresight.  A pretty face would only last for so long. 

They stay out of each other's way, the only thing they have in common is Lee Suho- her childhood friend of many years and his best friends despite their varied differences. She and Suho haven't been spending much time together ever since she moved out with her mother, but he was still one of her oldest friend and someone she cared about. Long story short, they both spent years imprisoned with a monster and now they were free.

Her life was looking brighter, more technicolor and staying away from a thug like Han Seojun was only adding to its quality. 

Which is why she's dumbfounded when they run into each other, at the most inopportune of time. She's walking home after her academy classes, being a pediatrician isn't going to be child's play and she has to take every possible advantage to make her dreams a reality. Without her father’s money backing her she has to accomplish this with her own merits, she is looking forward to proving him wrong. 

Airpods in, she doesn't notice the group stalking her until it's too late. One by one they begin to surround her, leering at her body like she's a piece of meat on display- it makes the hairs on the nape of her neck raise in trepidation and disgust.  

"Isn't it too late for a pretty girl like you to be wandering all alone outside?" The one she assumes is the leader croons, voice dripping in faux concern as he rubs his hands resembling a villian out of a 1940′s comic book. 

She immediately begins to catalog how many of them there are, strategizing the best way to take them down. Fifteen of them. She can't fight them all, the best she can do is distract a few and make a run for it. 

"Isn't it too early for vermin like you to be wandering the streets?" She replies snidely, rolling her eyes when they all whistle at her jab. This is such a pathetic end to her day, it's honestly beneath her. 

"I'll make you regret that comment, you bitch!" Already with the name calling, this guy really was a cartoon villian and he couldn't even construct something creative to call her. instead choosing the most generic insult in the book. With a sigh she moves into a fighting position, fists raised guarding her face and legs apart. 

"Let's just get this over with, you're sucking up all the air with that snout you call a nose." All she sees is his sneer and eyes huge in rage before he lunges at her, his movements are so predictable and she sidesteps kicking at the back of his knee swiftly. Then she grabs another arm that comes flying at her face cruelly twisting and flipping him over her body, his groan of pain music to her ears. She easily taking them out without breaking much of a sweat, she had been fighting since she was young and they were all clearly not trained fighters, just bumbling idiots playing gangster. 

But then she hears the cold metallic click of a knife uncoiling. A shiver races down her spine. They really were low-lives, she hadn’t expected them to actually pull out a weapon. 

"You need a knife to take on one girl? Can you even call yourself a gang?" The words are exactly the ones that are in her brain but she's not the one who utters them, a new voice has entered the fray. A familiar voice at that. 

This day just keeps getting worst.

"Han Seojun, how about you mind your business we found her first she's ou--" 

The rodent looking asshole never gets to finish his sentence as her leg comes flying at his face as she executes a perfect roundhouse kick, slicing through the air and landing devastating blow on his cheek sending him flying to the ground in a heap. 

"Damn Sujin! And you call me a thug! I think you killed him." Seojun cries sputtering in disbelief motioning at the motionless body on the ground but she notes the impressed raise of his eyebrow. Like she needs him approval.

While the rest of the band of idiots are helping up their leader she realizes this is her chance, without a word to Seojun she takes off running. Easily jumping over one of her fallen attackers and stepping on his shoulder for momentum, he cries at her harsh treatment.

Turning back she sees Seojun deck a guy in the face knocking him out before he starts chasing after her, his long legs eating up the gap between them in no time, she's temporarily grateful that he's not the one chasing her the damn beanpole. 

"Are you secretly a ninja or something?" She snorts at his terrified face, chucking when he keeps looking waiting for an answer as if he truly believes she might be. Nosy idiot.

"If I tell you, I'll have to kill you." She answers straight faced, watching as horror blossoms on his face and her musical laughter saturates the streets as she runs faster, he shakes his head at her smirking in reply. 

It's the beginning of the end, but she had no idea. 

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Somehow it becomes the catalyst they need to break the seal between them, she expects everything to go back to its rightful place- them ignoring the other’s presence as they've always done and only speaking when they had something rude to say, their normal. But as she's walking in the hallway she hears him shouting her name behind her, immediately all eyes in the hallway dart to them. 

"Kang Sujin! Yah! I'm talking to you!" He garners the attention of everyone in the vicinity and she turns around, annoyance purposely all over her face.  He needs to know that she is not amused with him. 

"Yeah, people across town can hear you. What do you want?" 

"Are you calling me loud?" He cries defiantly, obnoxiously even louder than before. The smirk on his face letting her know that it’s intentional, she aches to kick it off his face. 

"Is the sky blue?" She sarcastically responds, waiting for him to catch up as they walk side by side. 

"A better analogy to use would be is Han Seojun handsome?" She gags as he starts posing with a finger under his chin, in the distance she can hear high pitched squeals of his name.

She picks up her pace, regretting even giving him a moment of her time. She must have lost her mind for a moment, it wouldn’t happen again. 

"No wonder you're single. Who could compete with your love for yourself? I have something to do so I'll leave first." She doesn't wait for his response, leaving to do nothing but that's none of his business. 

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But it doesn't end there, they just keep orbiting into each other. Their groups converging at lunch and when the boys are having a heated argument about who's the best character on Dragon Ball Z, they both passionately shout out "Vegeta!!" In unison making everyone turn to face them in shock that they've agreed on something. They stare at each other as flabbergasted before Seojun pushes his hand out, palm flat and expectant look on his face. 

She simply stares back blankly, considering leaving him hanging just to see that stupid offended look he always gets around her but in the end she slaps her hand firmly against his, at least he was smart enough to know that Saiyan prince was the best.

Clap!

"Someone mark it on a calendar! Seojun and Sujin agreed on something!" Su-ah exclaims clapping her hands and smiling brightly, they both argue when several members at the table pull out their phones to commemorate the special occasion. She wrestles with Jukyeong, who's surprisingly strong and breaks free from her hold while sticking her tongue out.

"You're all so annoying!" They both explode again simultaneously, Seojun hanging off Chorong's arm as he tries to confiscate his phone, she glares at him for giving them another reason to laugh at them and Su-ah cheerily calls out, "Add that to the calendar too, they're so in sync!"

It's the worst lunch of her life, she kicks Seojun under the table. This was all his fault. Glaring when he kicks her back and they end up kicking each other until the period ends, oblivious to the stares around them. 

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At the end of the day she's eager to go home and do nothing, which is exactly when she feels someone tugging at her backpack forcefully dragging her backwards. 

"Yah! Let go of me!" She cries out, slipping her arms out of her bag and turning around in a fighting position. 

"At ease super soldier, it's just me." He replies as if that means anything, but she does lower her fists; marginally. To let him know she's ready to go at any minute.

"What do you want now?" She grumbles peering up at him and when he turns walking away with her backpack still in his arms, she chases after for that reason alone. 

"I'm going to the arcade. They have the new Dragon Ball Z game." 

She should go home and study, she promised herself she would review her notes from class today. She couldn't afford to slack off if she wanted a good life after all. 

She opens her lips to say all of this, to remind him that they can't all be pretty boy models like him some of them actually had to work for a living but instead she hears, "Fine. You're buying me something to eat." 

He begrudgingly agrees after complaining, "Aren't you rich? Why do I have to buy you food?" She skips off ignoring his rationale, only stopping when she sees his motorcycle parked in the lot. She's always wanted to ride a motorcycle. 

"Let's take your bike." She says confidently, not leaving him any room to refuse. 

He looks at her unimpressed before a cheeky smile spreads across his face, "You've always wanted to ride with me huh? Do you have dreams about it at night?" He teases her and she lazily watches him before walking up to him, looking directly into his eyes. He unconsciously takes a step back and she smirks, stepping closer again. 

" Are you nervous? Scared I might really be having dreams about you?" She watches his Adam's apple bob apprehensively before smacking him quickly on his cheek, he jolts in surprise. 

"You wish pretty boy. Now get the keys, I don't have all day." 

He gulps before snapping back to reality, wordlessly starting his bike. 

The entire school watches as they ride off together, her arms wrapped tight around his waist the wind whipping through her hair. She's never felt anything so exhilarating. 

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Their lives become entangled, it's the only way to describe it somewhat accurately. She goes to his house for weekly dinners and sometimes her mom comes too, his mom is a great cook while hers can barely boil water. It's a win-win scenario. They also study together, his grades aren't horrific but they could be better. There isn't much ceremony, he stomps over telling some boy he needs that seat and she watches as the poor kid scrambles, grabbing all his book and running away apologizing the entire way. 

"You have good grades right?" He says matter-of-fact less of a question and more of a statement before he pulls out actual textbooks from his bag. She rolls her eyes before nodding and turning back to her own studies. They study every Tuesday and Wednesday, he's always on time and treats her to tteokbokki. so she allows this transgression. 

She knows immediately why he asked for help when she sees his math test magnetized to his refrigerator door, big red A- circled. His mother brags about his score all throughout dinner, even cheering for her when Seojun informs her that she got an A+ on the same assignment. They both blush as she gushes about how smart they are. 

When the nightmares get too realistic and she can’t handle it alone anymore, he drops her off to therapy sessions and brings her to the gym after so she can release all her anger on a punching bag. He never asks her what's wrong but he drops her home after and the silence is comfortable between them. 

They both never mention their dads but she goes to the cemetery with him and stands quietly as he pays his respect and takes him to get ice cream after, the dinner with his family after is somber but she wouldn't rather be anywhere else. 

They never discuss what exactly is going on between them, they're just there for each other and that's enough. 

At least she thought it was. 

It's stupid but ever since they became...closer he's been getting more confessions than usual  even for him they pour down like rain. Multiple girls a day sometimes as if they took numbers and decided to go in order, she dodges them at every turn but there's always a tinge in her chest and she contemplates going to the nurse because there must be something medically wrong with her. 

She can barely taste the fried pork as she watches another girl shuffle over to their table, giant red heart box pressed tight against her chest as she approaches Seojun. His friends all notice and are chanting his name, elbowing and shouldering him excitedly. 

“Han Seojun! Han Seojun!” 

Su-ah suddenly places a warm hand on her knee, she looks at her in shock. Fear gripping at her as the other girl stares at her with gentle comforting eyes. She pushes the hand away. She doesn’t need comfort, she is fine. Fine. 

Her throat tightens as the confession starts.

"Han Seojun, I-I've liked you since last year. Willyougooutwithme?" This isn't new, they usually lose their nerve at the end sputtering out their feelings all over him. She never sticks around long enough to hear his answers, but this time she has no choice; if she leaves that would be suspicious. It would give people the wrong impression. 

She swallows her blueberry milk, he'd tossed it at her this morning saying he bought the wrong one. Coincidentally that was her favorite. It taste like chalk now on her tongue. 

"Sorry, I'm not interested." He answers truly sounding apologetic, she shifts in her seat, pointedly staring at her food. Stifling her smile by stuffing cold noodles into her mouth. 

There is a long silence as the cafeteria watches, all waiting for the girl’s  reaction. Usually there are tears, loud wailing cries and pleading for another chance, but sometimes they are silent as they walk off heartbroken, friends waiting to soothe them. 

The girl sighs, but unlike the others who usually scurry away, she speaks again, "Can I ask why? Do you already like someone?" 

A thrumming energy fills the room following her question, girls all looking around at each other, preening hopeful that they've captured the heart of the resident bad boy. She just wants this uncomfortable moment to end already, it's giving her indigestion. 

"Yes. I like someone." 

It feels like a sledgehammer to her chest, ignoring Su-ah's hand clutching at hers she stands up grabbing her tray. Nobody pays her any mind besides her two best friends, she weakly smiles at them, "I'm all done. I'm gonna head to the library I'll see you both later." 

She tosses out her tray viciously, forcing herself not to look back. 

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Avoiding him isn't easy, he's always there waiting for her or texting her to ask why she isn't coming over for dinner because his mother made her favorite. She's never lied to him before but she finds herself doing just that, feigning illnesses and late night classes. Which only results in him offering to bring her soup and give her a ride to said classes. Like she said their lives were for lack of a better word, entangled. 

But she sticks to it, keeping her distance from him as she tries to understand why exactly she's doing this. He's her friend she should be happy that he likes someone, he was an idiot but it was probable that the feeling was mutual. He would finally have a girlfriend, someone to fill the spot she had been temporarily occupying. Someone he could bring home for dinners and someone to accompany him at his father's grave. Someone to talk to late at nights when he had a nightmare about losing his family and couldn’t fall asleep. Someone, not her. 

"I'm happy for him. I should be feeling sorry for the poor girl he likes." She whispers to herself, aimlessly scrolling on her phone. Instagram has been a great source of distraction lately. As soon as she opens the app she sees a red dot pop up, a notification. She taps it seeing that she's been tagged in a photo, then another notification pops up and another and another and they start coming in too quickly for her to keep up. 

"What the hell?" She admonishes aloud, clicking randomly on one of the notifications ready to see what's causing such an uproar.

It's a picture of her. 

She remembers the day clearly, Seojun had forced her to go with him to a new diner that specialized in American cuisine, all so he could stuff his face with pancakes. She had no clue he'd taken a picture of her. Something that feels butterflies flutters in her stomach as she reads his caption. 

How do you get a princess to forgive you? 

Was this some kind of joke? What the hell was he thinking? She bulks at all the likes and comments on the photo after only two hours, she'd never gotten that much attention on a photo but she rarely posted pictures of her face. There were a lot of creeps online. 

Nervously she taps to view the comments, it's a mixed bag of reactions. Girls she's never met before cursing her very existence as if she's a threat to their imaginary relationship with him and the very same creeps that caused her not to post selfies on her page posting disgusting sexual comments. 

She instinctively taps to reply to rip them to shreds before she realizes that Seojun has already replied to every comment from a guy, threatening them explicitly and a few comments are even accusing him of deleting comments. There are a few comments calling her pretty but those are few and far in between and usually they are attacked in their replies by other jealous fan girls. 

Anger bubbles in her gut, what the fuck was he thinking posting a picture of her for all these vipers to see? 

Impulsively she taps the screen harshly, fingers flying across her keyboard. 

Delete this now. Are you insane? Who are you calling a princess?! 

Almost immediately she regrets her rash decision as comments flood in. 

How dare you talk to oppa like that? 

Oppa see she doesn't deserve you! 

Who is this snotty bitch?

You're not pretty enough to be this stuck up honestly, no offense. 

You should be happy a hot guy is posting you, ungrateful. 

She's tempted to reply to each comment, who did think they were talking to, she wasn't some pushover, let's see if they would have this much gall to say this to her face. She'd taken on a gang of would be thugs, she had no problem beating some sense into some bitches. 

But they're not worth her time or energy. 

Swiping the app close, she takes a calming breath. Counting to three. Then five. Then ten. Then twenty. When her anger is nothing but a low thrum beneath her skin, she opens her contacts going to get favorites and clicking his name,  bringing her phone to her ears. 

"Finished ignoring me princess?" He answers smoothly, sounding far too relaxed for all the trouble he's caused. She wants to wring his neck.

"Have you lost your mind?" She cuts to the chase, huffing angrily as her phone buzzes with more notification. "Han Seojun you better delete that picture right now!" 

"You've been ignoring my calls and texts and pretending you don't see me at school. What else was I supposed to do?" She can hear the strain in his voice, but he doesn't sound angry, no that's his hurt voice. 

"I've just been busy. You didn't need to do something this... extreme." 

He scoffs, clearly not believing her excuse. It sounds weak to even her own ears, they'd gotten too close they made time for each other, doing the most mundane things together, he even helped her clean her house sometimes and she would regularly help him shop for groceries. 

"Come open your door. I think we need to talk." 

He hangs up after his statement, leaving her to stare at her phone in shock. 

"That little piece of shit." She curses, running a hand through her hair before she hops out of bed, running to open her apartment door. She slows down as she nears the door, not wanting him to think her too eager. She's not. 

Running her hand through her hair again, she slowly pulls open the door. A breath swooshes through her lips at the sight of him, she's been avoiding him so much it's overwhelming to be staring at him directly like this. 

They stare at each other, the air unexpectedly charged between them as their gazes meet.

"It's rude to leave someone standing outside." He quips finally, pressing past her before she can reply to his complaint, she huffs in annoyance stepped aside to give him entry. 

Familiarly he toes off his boots, putting on the slippers her mom had purchased for him after his presence became more constant. Then he strides across the small space of her living room, sitting on her couch and glancing at her expectantly. She closes her door with a sigh, walking over and sitting in the single love seat. He stares at her hard. She struggles to keep his gaze. 

"What did I do? Whatever it is, I'm sorry. If you tell me what it is, I probably won't do it again." 

She's so taken back by his immediate apology that she stupidly focuses on the least important word in the sentence, "Probably?" 

He shrugs in reply, "I like pushing your buttons. You like it too. So I can’t make promises until I know what I did.” 

She can't argue with his assessment, they did have a very unusual relationship built on mutual sarcasm and backhanded compliments. They both were masters of never truly saying what they were thinking or feeling, too scared of rejection to make the final jump of fate. So they just kept crashing into each other, prodding and poking without recognizing why. 

"I'm not mad at you." She admits, she has no reason to be upset. He hadn't done anything besides like someone else, that wasn't a crime.  Unless the judge was her heart and then he had committed the most heinous of crimes. 

"Then why are you avoiding me?" The crux of it all, she was avoiding him because he forced her to acknowledge the secret she'd kept so hidden even she was unaware of it until it hit her over the head. 

"Why do you care so much?" She counters defensively, feeling naked under his penetrating stare. 

He laughs coldly, "Answering my question with a question. Never took you for a coward Kang Sujin." 

She bristles at the snide remark, who was he to call her a coward?

"If I'm a coward why are you here? Why post my picture on your Instagram? Don't you like someone, why are you here bothering me!" She hisses at him, each word gradually increasing in volume until she's screaming at his blank face. Then he starts laughing, pure unhindered laughter from his belly that stings her ears. She made herself too obvious. 

"Aren't you supposed to be smart?" 

"What do you mean by tha-" He cuts her off before she can finish shouting, "How do you not know that I was talking about you?" 

Her voice drains like water slipping down a sink as she hears the words he said, she blinks before her mouth falls open in shock. 

"Was I really letting you tutor me? What was I thinking?" He laments to the ceiling, mocking her but she's too riled up now already climbing out of her seat and striding over to him. He jolts backwards as she places her hands on his shoulders, searching his face and delighting at his wide eyes before climbing into his lap. He wheezes but his hand immediately latch onto her hips. She stares at him closely, eyes trailing from his hypnotic eyes, down to his lifted pert nose and lingering on his full plush lips. 

"You like me." She states, watching how his eyes flutter shut before landing on her own lips. 

"I thought it was very clear. Who else could I have been talking about, I spend all my time with you." 

He's right, they did spend a lot of time together prior to her self-preserving decision to avoid him like the plague. She hadn't realized when her feelings for him had changed, thinking they were simply friends the entire time.  A friend that she thought about constantly, who she wanted to spend all her time with and sometimes she's idly imagine kissing or holding his hand. She certainly hasn't expected anything. 

But here he was offering.  She wasn’t a good enough person to turn it down. 

"I'm going to kiss you. Stop me if you don't want that." She states boldly, now that she knows this is on the table, he's on the table she is practically starving and all her doubts have transformed into the desire, the desire to touch and be touched. He glances at her, his patented 'are you stupid?' stare and she laughs before smashing their lips together. It's hard and a little uncomfortable, with their lips just roughly pressed together and she wonders if they're doing it right before his hands stroke her cheeks, tilting her head as he slows down the kiss until it's sweeter and softer and oh, is that his tongue? He swipes at her sealed lips and she only hesitates for a moment before slowly opening and allowing him entrance.

This takes the kiss to another level, as her head swims at his flavor- something spicy and earthy irrevocably Seojun that she finds addicting and she eagerly sticks her tongue into his mouth, licking at his moist cavern. Wet smacks fill the air as they suck at each other's face, his large hands nearly circling her waist entirely she shivers at the touch, feeling small and delicate in his arms. He reaches up a hand to caress her hair and she mimics the move, pushing her hand through his thick hair tugging at the end of his mullet. When they break apart, panting into each other's mouths she feels like her soul has been set ablaze. 

"Since you're so smart I guess I don't have to tell you how I feel." She says trying to regain her composure and her breath, her lungs feel winded like she's run a marathon.

"Of course not. Everyone likes me, you're no exception." He replies cockily and she groans in exaggerated disgust pushing him away and clamoring out of his lap, but he tightens his grip with a deep chuckle easily manhandling her until they are laying on her couch, her back to his front. His breath is hot on her neck. 

"My mom will be home soon, we can't stay like this." She warns reaching back to move his arm which is digging into her back, dragging his arm over her waist and squirming until she's comfortable.

"I know. We still have an hour. She's working overtime tonight." 

Of course he knows her mom's schedule, she tries to smother her smile. She fails but nobody seems so she'll take it as a partial victory. 

He reaches over her, grabbing the remote before switching on Netflix and putting on a movie they'd started before but never finished because she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He had complained about her drooling on his favorite sweater the next day at school, as she shushed him and people looked over at the odd pair. 

"You're gonna delete that picture right?" She asks, only barely focused on the movie too distracted by his warmth behind her. She has to smother a moan when he starts stroking aimlessly on her waist. His fingertips igniting her skin in a warm burn that travels to her heart and lower. 

"Humph why can't I have a picture of my girlfriend on my page?" 

She turns around immediately, "Girlfriend? Who said anything about that," she rebuttals watching his eyes narrow until they're barely slits. She doesn't hate that look on him. 

"You kiss someone who isn't your boyfriend like that?" She blushes at him mentioning that, the kiss still very vivid in her mind, her lips still tingling. 

"Shut up." She huffs punching him in the chest, but he catches her hand and yanks her close until they're chest to chest, noses almost touching, lips a hair's breadth apart. 

"I'm going to kiss my girlfriend, stop me if you don't want it." He echoes her earlier words, gripping the back of her head as he stares at her a clear challenge, smirking when she doesn't move away before he devours her lips again. She groans around his tongue in her mouth, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as their lips slide wetly against each other.

When the jingle of keys sound several minutes later, she tumbles off the couch frantically as her mom pushes the door open. She wipes her lips, before looking up at Seojun; he looks wrecked- hair tussled and sticking up in different directions, his cheeks are burning red looking hot to the touch and his lips are sore and wet. Her heart does a somersault in her chest at the sight. 

Fuck. That's my boyfriend.

🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼🦵🏼

She lets him keep the photo on his account in the end, it keeps the hungry fan girls away and guys leave her alone for the most apart. She ignores his smirk when he sees her comment under the photo. 

To everyone who has something to say, Han Seojun is mine. If you have a problem with that, come say it to my face. 

Nobody ever comes to say it to her face. 

“You’re cute when you’re jealous princess.” He teases her, and she scoffs at him, “You’re one to talk, didn’t you almost get into a fist fight today because someone commented that they wanted to ‘tap that’?” 

He growls at the memory of that, only the principal strolling in had stopped him. 

“You guys are perfect for each other, both deadly and gorgeous.” Su-ah adds gleefully pushing her way between them and linking arms on both sides. 

She pushes his hand away when he immediately reaches for her, “Yah! Give me back my girlfriend!” He whines desperately trying to circumvent Su-ah and grab her hand, whining loudly about third wheels and people trying to get in the way of true love.

She’ll never get tired of hearing that. 

She was Han Seojun's girlfriend and he was her boyfriend, everyone could stay mad.

[dreamtbydaylight]

My Stones to Carry: A Mental Health Exercise

--Long post ahead!!--

Hello lovelies!

Lately, I've been doing a lot of personal work in my life. I have come across an exercise that I really wanted to share for anyone who deals with similar issues that I do, because I've found it starting to really help me in my day-to-day life.

I'm somewhat of a chronic worrywort. Recently, I've had so much burnout, I'm exhausted early in the day when nothing has really happened, and any next steps feel like climbing mountains instead of the mole hills they really are. I was advised to take a step back and evaluate why this is happening, and it starts with a simple question: "Is this my stone to carry?"

Everyone carries stones. There's big stones, little stones, unusually shaped stones. Some stones we have to carry because they're important, others people have handed to us against our will, and others still are invisible- we don't even realize we picked them up to begin with.

The thing with these stones is that not all of them matter. And if you're holding on to too many, you don't have room to pick up new ones you need to. Some of these unecessary stones are large and hard to move on your own, in which case I am a huge proponent of therapy. Some of these stones are small- but remember that the longer we hold on to something, the heavier it begins to feel. If you're anything like me, you might have a tendency to carry stones that don't even have anything to do with you. Stones that aren't even yours. They take up your mental space and energy that could be applied elsewhere. So, this simple exercise is meant to help you start laying down the stones you don't need to be carrying and lighten your load by prompting a simple question whenever something arises- it could be a situation, a mistake you think you made or did make, a memory, even a comment made by someone else.

This prompt helps you consider the situation and first determine if it's something even within your control. If it's something outside of your control, there's really no point in carrying it to begin with. For example, I often worry about the perception others have of me. For me, this exercise may start off with a simple thought:

"Man, I sounded really weird just then. Why did I say it like that? I sound so dumb sometimes. (Person) probably thinks I'm stupid. I need to be better than this."

Sound familiar at all? It's easy sometimes for thoughts to spiral into self-degrading comments and judgement. The first thing to do when you have a thought attacking your own character is to pause and notice when you're tearing yourself down. Once you've identified what's happening, you can ask yourself, "Is this my stone to carry?"

In other words, do I really want to spend any time on this? I do not control other people's thoughts or feelings about me. And it's okay to have quirks. So sometimes I sound silly. I'm not hurting anyone by doing this, and I am not a defective person. Sometimes my mouth jumps ahead of my brain and I stumble over goodbyes or answers to people's questions, even if my brain came up with a cohesive response. Is that really worth calling myself stupid over? I should hope not. This isn't something I need to worry about. It is not my stone to carry, so I set it down and move on.

Over the years, I've learned how to be harsh with myself for minor things. I've learned to monitor every word and action, every response. I collect mistakes from my past like a squirrel hoards nuts for winter. Many of us carry stones from our histories. Maybe we were different people back then, or something bad happened to us, and we just can't let go of it. We harbor guilt and resentment towards ourselves from back then.

I had major depression for five years between middle school and into high school. My opinion of myself was quite low, and I won't go into details over where it almost left me. I was an angry, bitter person, with a poor memory that made poor calls on occasion. I've forgotten entire vacations with my family between those years. One thing I do remember is those times I got snippy with my teachers, or one time in class where I thought my teacher had left and made a snarky remark about an assignment to everyone before realizing they were still in the room.

Every now and then that specific event replays in my head, especially in the evening.

"Why did I say that? What was I thinking? God, that was so embarassing. People probably laughed at me behind my back. I was such an idiot."

Having started this exercise, the next time it happened, I paused and I stared at that stone in my hands. Is this my stone to carry? It happened so long ago. I wasn't in a good place then and made a poor decision. I've learned from it and I've become a better person. I have nothing left to gain from this memory, and nothing to be ashamed of if I truly understand who I was back then and how hard I was struggling just to get out of bed each morning. It may not seem great now, but back then I was doing the best I can. This is no longer my stone to carry. So I set the stone back down.

This process can also apply to the future. I worry a lot over what tomorrow will bring, or next week, or next year. Worrying about work, about how I will do at a certain task, worrying about other things that need to get done. When those worrisome thoughts arise, it can look something like this:

"I don't know what to expect this week, what if I do that wrong? What if I screw things up?"

A lot of times, I'm worried about not performing as well as people may like me to, of being judged and not being able to plan every situation in advance. But that's just not how life works. Is this my stone to carry? I don't control everything that will happen in my future. The only things I control are my actions and my thoughts. So, I will show up as prepared as I can, and try to let life take care of the rest. Lately, I've been very stressed about finding a full-time, longer term job. I'm used to internships and school. My brain has been a trainwreck:

"What if I can't find something? What if I'm stuck in a place that feels miserable, or the people are toxic? What if I'm not good enough? What if I'm not happy? What if what I'm looking for just doesn't exist? What if no one likes me enough to hire me? What if my friends or family don't like what I decide to apply for, will I be disappointing people? Disappointing myself?"

I have felt increasingly isolated and hopeless, and the search has barely even begun! And I realized I've been scraping up stones left and right with worries over things that haven't even happened yet. Are these my stones to carry? I don't control hiring managers. I don't control what's available. I don't control my family's opinions. All I control is fixing up my resume, browsing what's available, getting clear on what I'm interested in and hitting that apply button. I control the steps I take in the process, but not the outcome. These worries won't help me succeed, they only hold me back from trying. So no, these aren't my stones to carry. And so I work on setting them back down.

What I hope this exercise does is give you a simple prompt that's easy to remember so the next time a thought or memory or situation starts to set you off and hurt you, you can take a moment to pause and look at it from a distance. See what you are responsible for and what you're not. See what matters to you and what doesn't, or what shouldn't (which can be subjective). Have you learned what you can from it? Do you have any direct influence over it? Are you being too harsh with yourself?

When you're carrying too much, eventually you crash. Even the smallest of stones become impossible to carry. So for your mental health, start learning to establish boundaries in your thoughts. Hold on to the things that matter, let go of the things that don't. Sometimes it's super hard to do that- sometimes we think things matter that really don't. It's a learning process and a skill we develop throughout our lives, but I think it's one worth having, especially for people who are sensitive to the feedback of those around them or base their success and worth on external factors. Take some of your power back and start refusing to accept stones that aren't yours.

I hope this post can be of some help to somebody, and please feel free to share this with someone that may need to hear it! I hope all of the stones you're carrying can grow lighter and that you can drop the ones not meant for you!

-Best, Claire <3

[wann-der-lusst]

Survived in the darkness of the tunnel

by Chabelita Alvarado

I woke up in the morning with the alarm clock. I quickly made a way in the hall to the bathroom. I did my usual routine in the morning and got ready to go to school.

I walked downstairs to eat a quick breakfast with mom and dad. Smiling to myself and munching on the last piece of bacon. I made a way down the sidewalk, the cold air stinging my cheeks, and towards the subway.

I was halfway through my walk to the subway station when my phone started vibrating in my pocket. I pulled out my phone, I saw a chat on messenger that came from my annoying best friend.

My best friend, Jane, just told me through chat that Wade Rivas was single. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. That's what she had to tell me?! As if I care.

Well, if there was one thing Jane would wake up this early for, it would be Wade Rivas. Tunasan High School's very own stereotypical badass who just happened to have every female in the school drooling at his feet, and unfortunately that included my best friend. I pity for Jane, poor thing.

I just chatted that "let's see each other at school and spill me the tea".

I slipped my phone back into my pocket smiling at my idiotic excuse for a best friend and looked up to see that I was at the subway station.

Sighing I found myself a seat towards the back as far away from everyone else as possible. I hated when I went out in public and the public was actually there.

It was only after I had sat down and was about to pull out my pair of headphones ready to expertly ignore everyone, that I realized who was sitting right across from me looking like someone had definitely had a bad day.

Sitting there, arms crossed, and dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, was none other than Wade Rivas.

I didn't realize I was staring at him that long until a pair of green eyes met mine, followed by the harshest glare I've received.

Embarrassed, I quickly averted my eyes and turned back to my phone and headphones. My embarrassment turned into curiosity though. Why was he riding the subway? The last time I checked he had a car.

I put my headphones in and played a song of All About You by Taeyeon. I tried to feed my wandering thoughts, and prepare for the thirty-minute ride.

I once glanced over at Wade. He was still staring at me. Although this time that confused expression was no longer on his face. Instead, it was replaced by an amused one.

I didn't buy to talk to him. We've been going to the same school for just about four years, and in all that Wade and I had never crossed paths.

To kill and waste some time, I approached him. "Why are you staring at me?"

"Weren't you just staring at me?" he said. Hmm. His voice, it made sense that many girls admire him.

"I'm not staring, I'm… just… not blinking." I protested.

He shook his head and fixed those eyes on me again.

"Then why were you 'not blinking' at me?

"Why do you care? You used to be girls staring at you." I said. Okay, I admitted that I am quite attractive to him.

"Of course I'm used to girls staring at me. I'm asking why you're staring at me. You don't even throw me a glance at school." Wade said.

That caught me off guard. I was an average girl in the school. So, he knew who I was? I had to remind myself that I didn't care whether he noticed me or not.

"I was just curious." I said bringing myself from my thoughts.

"About?" he prompted.

"Why are you here? Riding the subway I mean. Don't you have a car?"

"That's none of your business." He snapped as he turned to look in the other direction. Woah, a sudden change of his mood. I can't bear him, god.

Aha! He wasn't in a good mood because of his ex. Now I know. I decided to take pity on him. "I'm sorry, I just heard about your, uhm, break up?" I said with sympathy.

"What are you doing Chayo? Why are you trying to be nice?" he said.

Now that really shocked me. I wasn't pretending! It wasn't like I was a mean person. I was nice all the time. Or at least I thought I was. Second thing, I'm shocked he knew my name. We were not uttering a single word to each other through high school and this our first time to casually talk.

"What do you mean, why am I trying to be nice?" I asked, a little offended.

"I mean we haven't said so much as one word to each other throughout high school. Why are you talking to me now? Let alone trying to be nice to me? If I'm not wrong, I was under the impression that you couldn't stand me. If it's just cause you feel for me, don't." he said while completely facing me.

My mouth actually dropped open. What kind of reputation was going around about me?

"It's not that I can't stand you. It's just that I wasn't about to drool at your feet just so I could get a chance to talk to you". I said.

Wade was silent for a moment as he seemed to think this over.

"I don't know why I'm even telling you this, but as crazy as it sounds Amber was the first girl I was really serious about. I mean there was a girl before that but that had about a snowball's chance in hell of happening."

"What? There was a girl that The Wade Rivas didn't have a chance with? I need to meet her and shake her hand." I said, teasing him about that.

First time, we talked like a friend. We'd finally talked and on a subway of all places, kinda strange. However, we were comfortable with each other.

Our conversation interrupted when the subway train suddenly came to stop. The awkward and embarrassing filling caused my body sway to the left and body bumped into Wade's and seeing as my hands were currently shoved into my pockets, I couldn't brace myself for it. So, instead Wade ended up with his hands placed on my arms to keep me from toppling over face first into his lap.

My face heated up. It looked like a tomato.

My moment of embarrassment was changed in fear. Our light mood ended abruptly when the subway doors suddenly slid open and instead of passengers boarding, five masked and hooded figures made their way inside.

They were all wearing dark jeans and hoodies that concealed their faces. Each one carried a black duffle bag. Flirt out of the five figures silently made their way into the other cars leaving just one behind. The lone figure stood in the middle of the subway car and dropped the duffle bag with a loud thud, gaining the attention of all the other passengers.

Silently, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a black handgun.

Screams erupted all around me as everyone laid their eyes on the weapon. I sighed in fear, I couldn't believe that this was happening.

I felt the train begin to move again and I let my eyes wander to the left, trying to see through the window into the next car.

I observed all the passengers, they were all afraid. Screams were still ringing out around me and I had to suppress the urge to yell for everybody to shut up.

A gunshot rang throughout the small space causing me to almost jump out of my seat. My ears were ringing and when I looked up to the figure holding the gun in the air with their index finger wrapped around the trigger.

Everyone was silent now.

"Now that I have your attention I'd like to properly introduce myself." The figure pulled off the hood that had been covering their head and face, revealing a creepy flesh colored mask with holes cut out for the eyes and mouth and a shaggy mess of short greasy black hair on top of his head. When he spoke his voice was muffled by the mask but nonetheless I could still hear that it was deep and rough, like a smoker's voice.

"You can call me Rad." He continued.

I frowned at that. What kind of a criminal introduces themselves to their victims? I mean I doubted that if I made it out of this alive and went to the police that they'd have someone named Rad in the system, but still.

"Now first thing first, we need to get a few things straight. Any of you scream again, you die. Simple as that, understand?" He warned.

When no one answered, he shot the gun into the air again causing everyone to jump but no one screamed.

"I guess you all understand. This ride will go by a lot more smoothly if you all just cooperate." He added.

No one dared move suspicious. Wade and I kept our mouth to not say anything for our safety. Rad walked back and forth in the small confined space of the train car, switching the gun from his right hand, to his left, and then back again.

I wondered what he was doing exactly. If he was here to blow people's heads off then why wasn't he? I hated the fact that we were waiting here not knowing what would happen next. As if he could sense my impatience with him, Rad spun around and glared at me through his mask. Or at least I thought he was glaring at me, but I couldn't really tell with the mask on.

"You." Rad said pointing the gun at me.

I froze and clenched my hands into tight fists as I stared wide eyed, not at Rad, but at the barrel of the gun.

"What's your name?" Rad asked.

"Chayo." I said quietly.

"Chayo...Why don't you go ahead and stand up Chayo." Rad said kindly. I hated it when he say my name. I gave an involuntary shudder.

I was about to force myself to stand, even if it was against my better judgement, when I felt Wade grip my left hand, keeping me in my seat.

I glanced at Wade and gave him a questioning look.

"Why do you want her to stand?" Wade asked while narrowing his eyes.

I wanted to slap my hand over Wade's big mouth.

"I thought we already went through this. You don't speak… Unless. You're. Spoken. To." Rad ground out the last words slowly, and I doubted he would remind Wade.

"Wade please…" I begged quietly. I stood up even though I highly doubted it. "Obviously your girlfriend has more sense than you." Rad said while tilting his head to the side.

I almost opened my mouth to tell him that Wade was not my boyfriend, but I kept it shut. I wanted to live.

I slowly walked up to Rad and stood there, waiting.

Then I waited for more than two minutes. He said nothing, did nothing, just stood there staring at me. I couldn't keep my mouth shut anymore. He was making me anxious and when I became anxious I also got a really bad case of word vomit.

"Are we just going to stand here and stare at each other?"

After I regretted what I just said, my eyes instantly darted down to Rad's clenched fits and before I could look back at his masked face, I felt his hand connect with my jaw, hard.

The force of his punch made me bite down on my tongue as I stumbled back from the impact, my hand covering my jaw. The train car seemed like it was suddenly bathed in bright white lights, and I reached my free hand out to try and find something to steady myself. I could taste something metallic and salty which I knew had to be my own hold.

Wade approached me and gave an angered face to Rad.

"Well, aren't you two sweet? Trying to protect each other like that." Rad gave a dark chuckle before he jerked his head to the door leading into the next car.

"Move it, both of you, Now!" He ordered.

Still clutching the left side of my face I stumbled my way toward the door with Wade right behind me, one hand on my lower back and other on my arm, whether it was to keep me from falling flat on my face or just there to comfort me, I didn't know. All I was focused on was the pain which seemed to be everywhere in my face.

As Rad pushed us forward I wondered exactly what we'd gotten ourselves into. We'd continue to walk through the next two train cars.

Wade and I got shocked from what we witnessed in the next train car. The image of the knife swiping across the old man's neck and the gushing blood, was imprinted in my brain.

"Grandpa!" the little girl wailed and a chorus of horrified screams followed. She hopped out of her seat and ran to her grandpa before she sank to her knees next to him, his blood seeping into her white tights.

I stared, unable to move or breathe. I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth hard and bit down, trying to keep myself from throwing up.

I heard Rad chuckle darkly behind me before he began shoving at our backs again. When we had reached the front of the train where it was operated. Rad opened the door and I had to bite back a scream.

There on the floor was the conductor with a bullet bole i. the center of his head. I couldn't take much more of this.

Rad lifted the man up like he was nothing more than a rag doll and threw him out of the compartment where he landed with a loud thud, pointing the gun back at me and Wade.

"Get in." Rad ordered.

I walked inside slowly and my nose instantly wrinkled at the smell of blood. I looked ahead, out the front window of the train, as we sped past flickering light bulbs in the tunnel. I wondered where we were headed now.

Wade walked in behind me and I saw his face scrunch up as the smell of blood invaded his nose too.

"I'll be back to deal with you two later."

That was all Rad said before he closed us in and made his way back towards the back of the train.

As soon as the door closed, I pressed my back against the wall before I slid to the ground and pulled my knees to my chest.

This couldn't be happening.

Wade knelt down in front of me with his arms on his knees, and he stared at me intently.

"He just killed him." I whispered, shaking my head. "He didn't even flinch. He just slit his throat. Right in front of his granddaughter!" My voice rose and I think I was starting to hyperventilate. I was taking in quick shallow breaths and I started rocking back and front.

"Oh God, we're going to die. We're going to die." I was seriously starting to panic now. What would my parents do once they found out that I had been chopped up into a thousand little bite sized Chayo pieces? Then there was Jane. She'd probably take it worse.

Wade snapped his fingers in front of my face and broke me from my horrid thoughts.

He placed both of his hands on my knees and spoke very slowly, "We're not going to die. Okay?"

I looked back up at Wade and nodded slowly.

"Promise me then. Promise me that we won't die down here. Not like this." I said as I felt unexpected tears fill my eyes.

I didn't want to die. Not here. Not like this.

I watched him with a frown as he reached out and wiped a strat tear from my cheek before letting his warm hand rest there.

I didn't push his hand away like I told myself to. Instead, I welcome it, enjoying the brief comfort his touch brought me. I could use it right now.

"I promise." he said quietly.

I could only hope that he kept his promise.

I'm not sure how long I sat there. My imagination was running wild the longer we sat there. I imagined it might happen but my horrible thoughts scattered when the subway lurched and rumbled against the tracks.

"We're slowing down." Wade said.

The sound of the door sliding open behind us made me tear my gaze from the window and Rad who was standing in the doorway, his flesh colored mask and gaping black eye holes staring at me. A shiver ran down my spine.

Rad ordered us to follow him.

As we made our way through the subway cars I noticed that they were now all empty. I wanted to ask where everybody was but I was afraid of the answer I might get. So, I kept my mouth shut this time and kept moving.

We were on the last train car, Rad pushed us toward the exit doors which were already open.

We stepped out onto the old platform and my earlier question was instantly answered. All the people who had occupied the subway cars were now on the platform, all on their knees with their hands tied behind their backs with zip ties, set up in a line.

The one wearing a Jason Vorhees hockey mask stepped forward and tied our hands in our back. Jason Mask pushes us forward at the end of the line of subway passengers, where we got down on our knees and joined them.

"Now that you're all here, the real fun can!" Rad began with a clap.

A whimper and a sniffle came from my right and I glanced down the line of people and my eyes landed down on the same little girl from before. The little girl whose grandpa had been murdered right in front of her.

She was crying. I made myself a promise that I'll protect her.

I watched in silence as Rad and his band of masked began untying people and ushering them down onto the tracks of the

subway.

"Now this is how this is going to go," Rad began as he paced back and forth in front of the abandoned tracks. "The tracks from here on out are abandoned and farther down they break off into a bunch of unused subway tunnels. That's where you all are headed." He added.

"We're going to be playing a little game of hide and seek if you'd like to think of it that way. There's only one exit in one of these tunnels that leads up and out of the subway station but finding it will be like finding a needle in a haystack. If by some miracle though, you do happen to find this exit then you're home free... but if you don't," I could practically hear the smile in his voice. "And we get to you first then... well I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise now would I?"

Wade and I joined the group of passengers after the mask man untied the knots.

"You get two minutes, Two minutes and then the chase begins and you better hope like hell that we don't catch you" Rad warned everybody

"Why are you doing this?' A male voice demanded and that was Wade.

"I'm doing this to prove a point." Rad stated simply.

"What point?" Skater boy demanded.

"That I'm free to do whatever I please. You all live in this world thinking that you're safe, that you're protected. Well, you're not. Do you see anybody down here that'll give you as second glance if it means risking themselves?" Rad shook his head when the skater boy didn't respond.

"So, whoever is gonna survive through this game. Deliver the message to your pathetic police When they find all your dead bodies they'll see what a complete failure this entire system is." Rad added.

Rad glanced down at a watch that sat perched on his wrist.

"You have one minute and fifty-nine seconds" Rad said

As a cue, all the passengers started to run. I tried to scan the crowd for the little girl but people bumped into me and elbowed their way past trying to sprint ahead.

We kept running.

My legs were arching, my lungs were burning, and my head was spinning, all while I was running for my life.

As we continued running, my heart hammered furiously in my chest, and it felt like I was going to puke acid really soon.

I started slowing down and eventually I just stopped. I bent over with my hands on my knees trying to catch my breath.

Wade approached me and tried to motivate me to keep going. However, we heard an ear splitting scream echo down the tunnel. I turned to our back. I'm sure the group of masked men started to sue us.

Wade gently helped to keep half-running. I ignored the pain. We've reached the end of the track, we came to the tunnels that Rad had mentioned earlier. It was seven that all led off into different directions.

Wade and I agreed to pick the seventh tunnel. When we were inside, there were no lightbulbs, we couldn't see anything other than a pitch black.

We walked faster and carefully felt our tracks. My hands touched the wall of the tunnel and continued to walk.

Leading the track, Wade checked his phone but no signal to call police. However, we could use that as a flashlight.

Unluckily, the ground seemed to change, and I found myself free falling into the darkness. Wade yelled my name. My body smacked against the concrete. I cried out as bolts of searing hot pain jolted through every inch of my body. Tears filled my eyes instantly and spilled over as the pain took over. There was a horrible throbbing pain in the back of my head and an awful burning and ripping sensation in my side.

I heard the faint shuffling of footsteps and suddenly a bright light was shining in my water filled eyes.

"Shit!" I heard Wade's horrified whisper.

I couldn't even speak cause everything was hurt. Wade knelt down next to me. He sat his phone next to him letting the light create a small pool of illumination around us.

Wade said that he was going to help me. He began to lift the hem of my shirt. He slowly moved his hand upward until it rested just below my rib cage. And I felt an extreme amount of pressure on my ribs. There was an audible pop but I could barely hear it over the ear piercing scream that

was coming from my mouth. That was a great help, it had lessened considerably the pain before. A sheen of sweat covered my forehead as I breathed in and out rapidly.

Wade called my name with a worried and concerned face.

"I'm… still.. okay" I said through pants of breath. I blacked out.

I woke up cuddling with Wade. I'm literally surprised because I thought it was one of the psycho mask man. I could still feel the pain in my side. Wade told me that I was fell in manhole. One of my rib was dislocated.

"I'm grateful that you stuck around and helped me. It means a lot that you'd do that for me… and… and I'm sorry."

I jerked back a little when Wade whipped his head back so he could look at me, his eyes shining in the dim light of his cellphone.

I swallowed nervously and stared back at him, waiting for some kind of response. I froze when he reached up and pushed a damp piece of my hair behind my ear. My heart just about exploded when he let his hand linger on my face.

Didn't he know that there were people after us? Shouldn't we be running for our lives now?

I was ready to raise to slap his face when he got close enough to kiss me, but an ear splitting scream rang through the tunnel.

That scream scared me half to death in a panic, I jumped and slammed my head against Wade's.

I groaned in pain while rubbing my forehead and said to Wade that he had a hard head. Wade said that my head was exactly soft, teasing me.

"Did you hear that scream? Somebody could be in trouble." I said.

Wade just coughed and sounded like he was struggling to contain his laughter.

"Have you lost your mind? Those masked freaks could get to whoever that was and they could be headed this way right now." Wade explained.

I ignored his statement and tried to get up from sitting into his lap but he pushed me back to his.

"Please, Wade, I want to know who it was. Because it could be that little girl. She can't make it down here by herself. Hell, we can barely make it, so just imagine how she's doing. I have to find her Wade, so please don't try to stop me" I said.

Wade stared at me for seconds and stood up and then gently helped me to my feet. He grabbed my hand, shooking his head before he said "Let's go then, Wonder Woman."

Along our way, Wade and I talked nonsense. I've just realized that it was a mistake to find this little girl or who it was that did the screaming.

We've reached the end of the tunnel, but there was a large cavernous room. It was made of the same gray stone as the rest of the tunnels down here and jagged pieces of rock and pipe jutted up from the floor and hung from the ceiling. There were a few pale yellow flickering lanterns that cast an eerie glow across the large room, which meant someone had been here recently. Looking around, the room was empty.

"There's nobody here Chayo, we should head back and try and find our way out of here while we still can." Wade's voice rang out in an echo arout the vast room.

When I was to turn back to face Wade, the same shrill scream from earlier ran out behind me.

A black boots began to step forward, revealing black jeans and then a black hoodie before finally revealing a sheep masked figure.

"You two are just too easy." Sheep Mask drawled out, his voice slightly muffled by the mask.

I couldn't believe that we were fooled by this man. The scream that we heard was just recorded. The sheep mask currently holds the device where the scream came from and he pressed the button again to play the scream sound.

The Sheep Mask reached into the waistband of his dark jeans and pulled out a black handgun. The Sheep Mask pointed the gun to Wade but to my suprise, Wade was on top of him. Both of them struggled to gain control of the gun.

When the Sheep Mask started angling the gun towards Wade's chest, I rushed forward and brought my foot down as hard as I could on Sheep Mask's face.

Wade didn't wait for any second as the gun was on his hand. The Sheep Mask tried to scare them that we were going to die soon when Rad reached them. I faintly heard a loud crack and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Wade ram the butt of the gun into the side of Sheep Mask's face, then he shot the gun toward the head of the masked man.

Wade came to me and brought my head to his chest.

"We're not going to die here, Chayo. Do you understand? We're getting out of here," he promised. I hold on that promise.

I can't believe that we just killed the Sheep Mask man. I'm so mad to myself that we had to do that.

We've continued to search the exit. Wade leads the way, but his navigating skills sucks. When I led our way, it turns out that any navigating skills sucked a lot more than Wade's did. I ended up leading us right back to the spot where we started.

Apparently, Wade and I saw the same flurry of pink darts across the tunnel and into another one. I'm sure that was the little girl with the pink shirt that we tried to look for before.

We were not really sure but we decided to follow the girl from where the tunnel she ran through.

In turn of the event, someone grabbed me from the right. I saw Wade also dragged by another mask man. The piggy mask figure man that was covering my mouth by his hand, led me from somewhere. I was parted away from Wade. The last scene of him was fighting with the other mask man.

The Piggy Mask lifted his left foot and kicked open an old door that read "Employees Only".

The room looked like a place where electricians or repairmen would frequent with all the machinery inside.

The Piggy Mark man removed his mask as soon as he closed the door. It was Rad, the leader of the psycho mask group.

He grabbed my hair to go to another destination. There was a series of many lefts and rights before we finally came to his destination.

We went to another room. It was large and full of pipes in the ceiling. In the center of the room stood four, large, curved, gray pipes that jutted out from the floor and were pointed to the right wall.

There were three people handcuffed for those pipes. The strange man was handcuffed to the first one. The second one was the skater boy. The third one was the little girl that we've been looking for.

And for the fourth pipe, Rad cuffed me from the last pipe.

"W-why are you doing this?" I asked between my sobs.

"I already told you. The system already failed me once and now they're going to fail you. This is all to prove a point." Rad simply said. With that, he disappeared back down from the tunnel.

As soon as Rad was out of sight I slumped against the pipe before sliding to the ground. Anything I did was a failure to escape. I just dropped my head and think that this was how I'm going to die.

The first man in the pipe turned into red, burned, bloody and raw. The skin skin looked like it had been seared completely off and I could see the white of their bones poking out.

The skater boy started to scream, asking for help. The little girl started to cry and I had no idea what to do to comfort her.

I've heard a voice. "Chayo?!" Wade yelled out from somewhere. My head whipped up at the sound of his voice and directly look at his eyes.

He ran forward and bent down to hug her.

"How did you-,"

"You don't know how I fight that masked man but I'm relieved that I found you." Wade said.

"But I'm going to die here. The pipes. They shoot out hot steam and the man just got a face full of it." I explained.

Wade looked at the first pipe, his eyes widened and urged to fight to not throw up something.

Wade immediately pulled a trigger of his gum that pointed to her handcuffs but nothing happened.

Wade found two bobby pins into the hair of the little girl. He borrowed it from the girl and promised to help her.

I suggested to Wade to help first the skater boy and the little girl before me. Wade argued about it but he still did it. When Wade successfully unlocked the handcuffs to the skater boy, the skater boy moved forward to also help unlock the handcuffs on the little girl. Wade finished to get rid of the handcuffs to me before the steam of the pipes burned her.

We were successfully all safe, as of now.

The four of us continued to find the exit of this tunnel. Upon walking, we've talked in some conversations but stay alert. The skater boy named Dylan and the little girl named Rose.

Our conversation was long. Until Rose pointed ahead of her. She was pointing at the end of the tunnel and my blood ran cold.

Standing at the end of the tunnel, completely silent and staring at us, was the man in the Jason Mask.

Jason Mask aggressively started running towards us. As an instinct, Wade held my hands and we started to run to the tunnel on our right. Dylan and Rose followed us. There were a bunch of lefts and rights before we reached the two tunnels.

We agreed to part away in two groups. Dylan and Rose went to the left tunnel and Me and Wade ran through the right tunnel.

Me and Wade never stopped to run even though I've being clumsy for how many times I fall on my feet.

Wade stopped, he pushed me against the wall of the tunnel that didn't reach the dim light of the tunnel. I wondered what's going on in his mind but it made sense when I heard booming footsteps and a few seconds later I watched with wide eyes as Jason Mask went thundering past us and continued down the tunnel.

When I'm sure he was gone, I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

For a minute, we stayed there and had some rest. But I saw Rose had just come into view and even from here I could see red stained in her pink shirt.

Wade and I hurriedly approached Rose. I asked if she was hurt. But she said with tears that the blood stain came from Dylan.

Rose led the way where Dylan was. There was no way Rose should have been able to know the way back. She made way too many turns for her to have memorized it only going through it once. I stopped walking, Wade and I shared a look and thought the same thing.

With that, Rad suddenly came into view and Rose ran to him.

"Did I do good Daddy?" Rose asked.

"You did great sweetheart. Daddy is so proud of you." Rad said. Rose smiled proudly.

Rad pointed a gun on me. He ordered me to walk. We were now on one of the train car. Rad demanded Wade to hold out his hands. Rad handcuffed Wade's hands in one of the metal standing poles. Rad got the gun from Wade's pocket.

And by that, Rad left us after he locked the door of the train car.

I went to Rad's place.

"I'm sorry, I broke my promise to you," Wade said.

"You don't have to say sorry, maybe this is our fate." I said in my tears.

Wade asked to come closer with him. I went closer enough but he demanded to stand between his arms and the pole. I just didn't argue with that with the small place he was asking me to stand.

I stepped forward before ducking under one of his arms and I was now officially enclosed to him. I looked at him when he called my name with an intense expression.

"It was you. Even before Amber. I know this is not the right timing because we're almost likely dead anyway but I needed you to know."

I didn't know what response I should do, but I passionately kissed him. He kissed me back.

We stopped kissing when all of the sudden the doors that connected opened, I can see on the front train that the subway train was on fire. And the flames were quickly making their way towards us.

I could already smell the smoke. I ran back to the exit door and began pushing, pulling, and even banging on the door. Nothing worked.

Wade suggested kicking on the exit window. We kicked the window twice and it cracked. For the fifth time we kicked the window, it finally broke.

Wade told me that there was a left pin in his pocket. I get it used to get rid of the handcuff to his hands. It took more time and the smoke was already burning our lungs. Finally, the handcuff was unlocked. Wade took off his hoodie jacket and placed it around his left hand. He broke some left pieces of glass in the window.

He was the first one to climb out in the window before me. Wade helped me up. When I was on my feet I looked up at the burning subway train and watched as the flames of the fire completely engulfed it.

We saw Rad and his little girl at the top of the platform looking on the subway train to burn into ashes. Rad didn't see from where we were, I'm sure he thought that we were dead on that train.

So I made a plan to eliminate that freaking psycho.

__

I appeared from where Rad was standing.

"You bastard! You killed him!' I screamed as I slammed my body into Rad's and forced me to cry.

Rad was shocked that I was still alive. But he grabbed me roughly by my wrists and squeezed them tightly.

Okay, this was not part of my plan, I hope he didn't think to kill me now.

Turning back to my acting, I yelled to him like he really killed Wade. He just darkly chuckled about it.

As part of the plan, Rad never got to finish what he was about to say because a shard of glass was pushed straight into the center of his back.

Rad let me go. Rad was about again to speak but Wade stabbed again into his chest.

Rad had died. I hugged Wade as finally we are safe now. Wade took the kicking Rose and threw her into his shoulder. Wade and I slowly move forward to find the exit.

With the help of the light in Wade's cellphone, it was enough to see our way. As I was the one who's holding the cellphone, I saw in the darkness a set of stairs and swallowed hard before turning back to face Wade and nodded slowly.

We saw a light on the wood that was blocking our way. We kicked the light wood on how many times before we succeeded to pull off the wood.

Through the small hole, I could see the city lights that brought me into tears. The stars in the sky let me know that it was night.

We've carefully made a way through the hole. When I stood up and took a deep breath, it felt like it had been forever since I had breathed in fresh air.

There were a lot of old and abandoned buildings around that were boarded up just like the subway entrance had been.

We had planned to surrender and tell the police about Rose's case. She could still be changed with the help of DSWD.

Wade called an emergency call to 911. Wade and I shared a smile. I slowly kissed him.

We sat on the abandoned street and waited for the police to come and rescue us.

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

I’ am not my father

Warnings: Mad Barba, slight touch on smut.

Enjoy x

"SVU ever brings me a case like this again and you can find some other ADA to fight it" Rafael all but yelled at you and Liv as you walked into his office.

"Come on Rafael, it was air tight" Liv snapped back.

"Air tight? If this case was so air tight it wouldn't have ended in a not guilty. You both let your emotions get in the way and clouded your judgement. I am not putting my job on the line anymore" he snarled back

Liv threw her hands up and shock her head.

"You are out of line Rafi, that's not fair" you said back. He glared at you.

"What's not fair is me losing my job over this. That's not fair because you acted like the emotional little girl that you are"

Your eyes opened wide with shock. Rafael felt regret as soon as those words left his mouth but he couldn’t take them back now.

"Come on Rafael, that's not nice" Liv spoke back.

"You both need to get out, now" Liv turned and walked out, you stood there staring at him.

"Are you deaf as well now? Get out NOW" you turned on your heels walked out and slammed the door shut.

"Good luck with THAT this afternoon Carmen" she didn't know what to say and you left to catch up with Liv.

On your way back to the station in the car, it was silent. Rafael had never spoke to you like that before, ever. You felt so mad and you were trying to keep the tears from falling.

"Are you ok?" Liv asked as she turned off the car

"I will be, Thanks Liv" a small tight smile coming to your face.

You both walked into the bullpen to everyone at their desks. Their heads turned to look at you as soon as you walked through the doors.

"How did it go?" Fin asked leaning back in his car.

"Not guilty" you answered back

"No way" Nick threw his pen down on his desk.

"Ah yeah, Barba isn't happy with us at all" Liv sighed.

----

It was your day to go to your place to check on everything and get more cloths before going back to Rafael's. But after the way he spoke to you today, you decided to stay home and order in.

You hadn't heard from him so you didn't bother reaching out. You and Nick were working the night shift the next night so you didn't go to bed early, you stayed up to catch up on some shows you had recorded.

It was 12.30 am when your phone started to ring, it was Sonny,

"Hey Sonny everything ok?"

"Ah hey, no not really, Amanda is on her way to pick you up, she will be there in 5 minutes, meet her down stairs please"

"What's going on?"

“She will fill you in" and he hung up.

You jumped up, ran and changed your track pants to jeans, you left on the navy t shirt you had on, put on a strapless bra, tied your hair in a low lose pony, put on socks and runners. You put your phone in your back pocket, and your badge and key's in your front pocket grabbed your wallet and went down stairs. Just as you walked out on the street Amanda pulled up and you jumped in.

"What the hell is going on?" you looked over at her in the drivers seat.

"Sonny and I decided to have a drink after our midnight shift, we walked into Florini's and seen Barba at the bar. He has had a LOT to drink. He wouldn't leave with us, He just kept saying I'm not my father, so we called you"

"You should have left him there" you rolled your eyes looking forward to the road.

She looked at you funny raising one eye brow at you, so you told her what happened.

"I' am sure he didn't mean it" Amanda said softly.

"He meant it, don't you worry about that" you spat back.

Amanda managed to get a park outside the bar, and you got out and walked in with Amanda behind you. There weren't many people so you saw Sonny and Rafael sitting at the bar straight away. Sonny looked up and gave you a small half smile, he got off the bar stool and walked over to you and put his hand on your shoulder giving it a light squeeze,

"Go easy Y/N, he is really sorry"

"He's drunk, he doesn't know what he is"

You walked over to Rafael, he hadn’t notice you yet. The bar tender had just poured him another drink.

"Don't you think he's had enough? Can I have the bill please" he sculled down his drink not even looking at you.

"Give me your wallet" you snapped at him

He missed putting his hand in his pocket 3 times, then he got it and handed it to you. You pulled out his card and paid the tab. You grabbed his case and jacket and handed it to Amanda

"We are taking you home, let's go"

He still hadn’t spoken to you. Rafael stood up putting his arm around your shoulders, you put your arm around his waist and you walked him out to Amanda's car. Sonny opened the door and he got in, looking like Bambi on ice. You went around the other side and got in the car.

"Yours or His?" Amanda looked at you through the review mirror.

"His" You huffed back.

Before to long you were back at his place. Amanda and Sonny helped you take him upstairs. You took the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. This was the most silent he had ever been.

"Thanks guys I got it from here. See you tomorrow" they both waved and left.

You lent him up against the wall just inside the door, you got on your knees and took his shoes off. He was so out of it you could control his body. You pulled him off the wall and walked him to the bed room and turned on the light. He stood in front of you still not saying a word. You undone his tie and took it off and then undone his vest and took that off too. You pulled his arm and led him to the bed, you pulled down the blankets and sat him down, and he laid down staring into space. You pulled the blankets up and turned to walk away, when he grabbed your hand.

"I'm not like my father"

You pulled your hand out of his, walked and turned the light off and shut the door. You slept on the couch.

Sleep was too far away all night. You messaged Carmen from your phone and told her Rafael would be in, in the afternoon, something came up. You didn't have to be at work till 4 that afternoon, so you tried and tried to fall asleep, but it wasn't happening. Finally at 5am you drifted off to sleep.

****

"Bang" you woke up with a fright, you sat up and looked around you and seen on the wall clock it was 9.30 am, you heard the water run so you turned towards the kitchen, there was Rafael looking like a mess, hair everywhere, still in the same cloths, having a drink of water.

You both didn't say anything. You sat up, folded up the blanket you used, put your shoes on and headed to the front door without a word. You had seen him awake, he was fine so you could leave.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Home, your awake and fine I can leave now" he ran after you and grabbed your arm.

"No please don't go" you looked down at the floor. "Give me 10 minutes to shower, please. I have some explaining to do"

You pulled out of his grip and walked into the kitchen to make some toast and coffee for yourself while he had a shower.

You were sitting at the dining room table, with your coffee cup resting on your bottom lip looking into no where. You guys had been together for a while now, but this was the first really serious fight you guys had.

----

Rafael stood in the shower and let the water run over him and flashes of what happened came running back. Yes he was upset about the case, the DA wasn't happy, but he didn't cop it has much as he thought. But to say what he said to you, what a horrible thing to say. Age never mattered to you, and you always put people in their place when it was brought up. So why did he say that. He sounded like his father, and that's what drove him to drink that much. He couldn't have that, acting like his Dad, he prided himself to act the complete opposite. What he said would have pushed you away, he knew that. But he loved you way too much to let you go.

----

He walked out in a pair of dress pants and a white under shirt, his suspenders hanging down around him. He knew you messaged Camera, because when he woke up he had a message from her asking him what case files he needed when he came in that afternoon. He remembered you had over night that night, so he had time to try and make this better.

He seen you sitting at the table holding your coffee mug, with a tear rolling down your cheek.

"Please don't cry Hermosa" as he sat down on the chair opposite you. You wiped the tear away with the back of your hand.

"Say what you need to say, so I can go home" You looked down at the table

"I'm so sorry Mi Hermosa. I never should have said what I said. You’re not that at all, you’re an amazing person and I love you. And I'm sorry about last night. Treating you the way I did- I’m ashamed. I sounded like my father. I ran away and drank stupid instead of trying to fix it. I 'am not going to be like him"

You snapped your eyes off the table and looked at Rafael’s face, it was filled with sadness and his eyes were damp with tears.

"I didn't like what you said to me, I'm not some emotional little girl, I’ am a strong grown ass women. I understand you were mad, but if you’re going to start treating me like that and speaking to me like that after cases, I can't work with you anymore. I'll be off cases that involve you or we break up, we can't do both if it's going to be like this"

Tears ran down Rafael’s cheeks. He knew he over stepped.

"You are strong, one of the strongest I know. I love you and I love working with you. You’re an amazing detective, I don't want any of that to happen. I want to grow old with you"

"You can't walk around and say nasty things like that to me and not expect me to be upset or mad or react. You took your anger out on me in one of the nastiest way you could have. You knew saying that would push the right buttons, that's not you Rafi, you’re not that person"

You got up, walked into the kitchen and washed up your mug and plate so you could leave. You were washing up with tears running down your face and Rafael was sitting at the table with his head in his hands, his big tears landing on the table.

You finished quickly and headed to the front door, before you knew it Rafael grabbed you from behind wrapping his arms around your middle and pulled you into him, resting his head on your back.

"Please don't go" you could feel his wet face through your t shirt.

You spun around in his grip and faced him, his eyes were blood shot and filled with tears.

"I' am not my father"

"No you’re not. You are Rafael Barba, the most amazing ADA in Manhattan, if not New York. Your smart, kind, sassy, extremely sexy and have the best suspenders collection in the whole of the USA-"

You both giggled through your tears. You reached up to cup his face with both hands, rubbing your thumbs over his cheeks.

"And you’re my boyfriend. I love you Rafi. Couples fight and that's fine, but nasty things like that being said just to hurt the other person, we can't be doing that"

"I’ am so so sorry Hermosa, I never want to risk losing you. If I ever lost you I would be losing my soul mate, please forgive me?"

You pulled his face towards you and kissed him lightly on the lips. You could feel his tongue running along your bottom lip so you opened your mouth slightly and moved your head so he could deepen his kiss.

His hands were resting on your hips, he pushed you up against the wall. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him even closer. Rafael slid his hands up your shirt to your bra back and undone it, pulled it out and threw it on the floor, he grabbed the hem of your t shirt and pulled it up over your head. Only breaking the kiss when it slipped over your face. He landed back on your lips again, then started to kiss down your neck, you grabbed the hem of his under shirt and pulled it up over him.

He continued to kiss all over your neck and around your collar bone. He ran his hands down your sides to the waist of your jeans then around to the button and he undone it, he slid both of his hands down the back and grabbed your ass in each hand. You could feel him hardening up against you.

He pulled away and looked in yours eyes,

"I will love you as long as I live”

[managedmischiefs]

north//chapter ten

genre: angst

pairing: season ten spencer reid x female oc

warnings: panic attack, talk of maeve and that whole situation, death, mention of drugs and relapse

word count: 9.8k

summary: spencer gets to see another part of amelia’s ugly side and amelia gets more than she bargained for when she steps onto her balcony

also i just wanted to say that the panic attack described in this chapter is based off of my experience with panic attacks. nobody has the same experience, but this is based off mine. also part two, i don’t know how medication for panic attacks really work, what i wrote is literally based off my experience with migraine medication. so if it’s not accurate, then i apologize. i also apologize for taking so long to write this. school was a lot and my mental health sucks. but it’s here now!! enjoy

AMELIA

"Yaz, if you don't stop moving, I'm going to purposely poke your fucking eye out!"

"It's not my fault! Quinn keeps nudging me!"

"No, I'm not!"

I roll my eyes at the two girls in front of me, flicking my wrist to put the final touches on Yaz’s makeup. "You two need to shut up." I then grab Quinn’s shoulders and force her to move against the wall, right next to Yaz. They continue to quietly bicker with each other.

"So," Frankie speaks up from across my studio, lounged back in a bean bag chair, fiddling away with a camera of his own, "Lia, you're coming up on one year with your genius doctor FBI boyfriend, right?"

"Mhm," I hum, too focused on painting my friends' bodies to give a full and coherent answer.

"Do you guys have plans yet? Dinner? Movie? I don't even know what you guys do as dates. In fact, I don't really know much about this guy at all. Are we even sure he exists?" Michael teases, waving around his bottle of beer. Quinn squirms away from my grasp to take a sip of his beer and only comes back when I tug on her hand. 

"No plans yet," I mumble, biting my tongue for a moment as I focus on getting the swirls of blue and yellow just right. If the painting isn’t absolutely perfect then I’ll never be happy with the way the pictures come out. And if I’m not happy with the pictures that come from today then that just means I wasted my time today. "We don't make plans in advance, really. His job doesn't allow for that."

"His job doesn't allow for that?" Dani scoffs. "Stupid excuse. Horrible excuse. Men are trash. How can you be sure that all the time he’s spending ‘at work’ and not with another girl? Or maybe another guy? I don’t know, I don’t judge. Maybe he’s-"

"Dani," I hiss, twisting my head to send her a pointed look, "he's an FBI agent. He hunts down serial killers for a living. He travels for work on a whim and it’s not a big deal. He’s not gay and it’s rude to speculate about someone’s sexuality, especially if you’ve never met them."

"But don't you want him around him more?" Frankie jumps up from his seat and throws his arm around my shoulder, effectively pulling away from my work. He thinks that grabbing me will diffuse the situation, bring some humor, keep me from getting too upset. But it actually does all the opposite and I can feel a ball of heat growing and swelling in my stomach.

I’ve been friends with this bunch since college. We all went to Carnegie Mellon together and even lived in a house together in junior and senior year, but they aren’t always the best of friends. Clearly. They can be quite judgemental and exclusive when it comes to people outside of our friend group. Jenna and I commonly find ourselves sharing looks across rooms when one of our friends says something rude or stupid. They’re not the best, but we’ve been through so much together and they are all I have.

I push Frankie away from me as best as I can. "Do you guys just not like him because he's a federal agent?" The room goes silent and that's enough of an answer for me. I scoff, moving across the room to grab some more paint and squirt it into my palette. I wind up putting too much on my palette and groan, screwing off the top of the paint tube and trying to scoop the extra paint back in. The longer I try, the less gets back inside the tube and the more my frustration starts to grow, the more tears well up in my eyes. "You're complaining about my boyfriend who you've never met just because he works for the FBI. Ridiculous. Unfair."

"We get arrested all the time and all we do is spray paint empty brick walls," Dani protests, and, again, judging by the silence of the others in the room, I know that they have no problems with what Dani is saying. "It's bullshit! We should be able to express ourselves creatively without having to do art in the middle of the night and worry about being thrown in a holding cell."

"First of all; express yourself creatively on a canvas, not on someone’s property. Second; I can promise that you’re not getting arrested by federal agents. You’re getting arrested by cops and my boyfriend is not a cop," I growl at my supposed friends. I don't get angry easily. In fact, I'm a very patient person and I've been told that by many people on many occasions. My first instinct is to never get mad. Anger doesn’t get anyone anywhere. I prefer to have conversations instead of screaming matches and to hear out the other side's argument. But this is different. This is Spencer we’re talking about. I love Spencer more than anything and since meeting him, I know I'd do anything to protect him, even if that means arguing with my friends on his behalf. It’s not fair for them to be making these judgments about him. "You get arrested by Virginia Police so if you wanna hate anyone then hate them. Don't you dare all go hating my boyfriend for no reason. Don't hate him when you've never met him."

I throw my palette onto a table, not caring about paint splatter, and grab my phone, leaving my studio and heading into the fresh air. My heart is pounding against my tightening chest as I lean against the brick wall and slide down to an incredibly uncomfortable crouching position, tucking my head between my knees. The stance almost instantly makes my back ache and my neck sting but I ignore it. Maybe I deserve the pain. My breathing quickly gets more and more shallow and my head goes light. I try to lift my head to bring sunlight into my eyes, but my head seems far too heavy to move. I reach for my phone and it slips right out of my fingers when they tremble too much for me to get a grip on the thin metal. This feeling is helpless, painful, too familiar. I can’t seem to get a grasp on myself and I’m spiraling out of control more and more by the second. Every gasp for breath turns into a sob and every attempt to move my head turns into overwhelming shame when I notice people passing by are staring at me and whispering.

It's almost perfect that my phone starts to buzz on the ground and I manage to open my eyes enough to see that Spencer is calling me. I attempt another deep breath to calm myself down but it doesn't work and it only makes my grip on reality dwindle. It's getting harder to breathe and my eyes are stinging with tears. With every pounding beat of my heart, my chest gets tighter and tighter and tighter until it feels like someone has successfully squeezed my lungs flat. 

The buzzing of my phone should bring me back to reality but it just makes it worse. It’s an annoying, persistent sound that just won’t stop. It won’t stop. It just won’t stop. I want to answer, I need to answer, but I just wish the sound would stop. The way to get it to stop is to answer. Just answer. It’ll stop if you answer. You’ll feel better if you answer. I slam my hand down on the ground and grope the floor until I manage to grab my phone and bring it up to my ear.

"Hi, love," Spencer's chipper voice comes through the receiver, none the wiser to my current situation. He's been away on a case since early yesterday morning, having woken me up while getting dressed, kissing me goodbye, and leaving my apartment to get to the BAU. I would kill to have him here right now. Maybe he could talk me down and reteach me how to breathe. Maybe he could reinflate my lungs and kiss my hands until they stop trembling. 

I try to answer, but nothing coherent comes out. I let out a strangled sob, my fingernails digging into my knee so hard that I worry I might draw blood. My inability to communicate is frustrating and that ball of heat in my stomach rises up to my chest. The trembling overpowers me and I almost drop my phone again. 

"Amelia? What's wrong? Are you okay? Talk to me," Spencer says quickly, and it's only followed by more choked wheezes from me. "You've gotta breathe, okay? Take really deep breaths for me. In through your nose and out from your mouth.”

His instructions seem simple enough to do. Just breathe. That’s all I have to do. It’s simple. Just breathe. I open my mouth to try to speak to him, to tell him what’s happening, even though I’m pretty sure he can tell, but all that comes out is fragments of words and whimpers.

"It’s okay, you’re okay. You don’t need to speak. In through your nose, out from your mouth, remember? Can you try that for me?" I’m not sure how long I’m sitting there for, on the phone, trying to focus on my boyfriends’ voice as he tries to calm me down. It feels like I’m sitting for a few hours, but my tiny grasp on reality lets me know that it’s been ten minutes at the most. I just do what I can to focus on Spencer and what he is telling me to do and how I can calm down. I clench my fists and finally succeed in doing what he tells me to after a while, breathing heavily in through my nose, my chest burning as the heaving comes to a gradual stop. I breathe out and then repeat the process a few times. “There you go. You’re doing so well. I’m right here for you, okay? Take all the time you need.”

He continues to tell me sweet nothings and encourages me to breathe until my breathing has regulated and my head lays slack against my knees. Spencer lets just a few moments of silence go by to let me collect myself before he speaks again. “Are you feeling a little better now?” I gather enough energy, the last of it, to hum a confirmation. "Where are you right now?" Spencer asks next. Even just his voice calms me down. Maybe it's his experience with his job but he sounds so calm right now. Nobody in my life has ever been able to remain so calm during one of my panic attacks, leaving me to cry and heave and occasionally faint in private. But Spencer's voice sounds so soothing and calm and low that just him speaking helps me more than anything. More than any useless, overwhelming, smothering hug ever has. 

"Studio.”

"Okay. You should get home and get some rest. " 

"Mhm.”

"You shouldn't drive. I don't know if you did, but either way, please don't drive. Take the train or call someone to drive you home," Spencer pleads. "I was calling to tell you that we're on our way home. We closed the case and we're leaving in a few minutes for the airport, but don't wait for me. You need to go home and get rest. Panic attacks are really taxing and you need to re-energize. I'll come over when I get back but you need to get home."

"Amelia?" I hear Jenna's voice approaching me but I don't even bother to look up. "Are you okay?" 

I've exhausted my energy on speaking just those few words to Spencer so when Jenna gets close enough to me, I just lift the phone up for her. She crouches down beside me and grabs my phone, wedging it between her shoulder and her ear as she pushes my hair out of my face. I try to lean away from her touch but I can’t get very far. "Who is this? Oh, hi, Spencer. This is Jenna. She's right next to me. I can definitely bring her home. Don't worry, I'll get her home and I'll stay with her until you come around, it's no problem. I'll take her phone and let you know when I get her home. Okay, bye."

I finally lift my head and look at Jenna, watching her tuck my phone into her pocket, giving me this stupid, pitiful smile that I’ve seen far too many times in my life. A half smile that says, it sucks that you’re going through something but I only kind of care. "Mr. Genius says I gotta bring you home and keep you safe until he comes over and I don't feel like ending up in prison, so let's go, babe." I don’t have it in me to correct her to day Doctor Genius instead of Mister Genius. Jenna holds her hands out to help me up.

I bring my shaking hands up to hers and let her pull me to my feet and lead me over to her car, feeling weak and useless as she pulls the seatbelt over my chest. I pout as she dotes over me, humming casually to herself just so she can make this situation not so tense, but it just makes it seem like she doesn’t care. "Okay," Jenna says, hand poised on the passenger side door, "I'm gonna go kick everyone out of your studio and then we'll get going. Sit tight."

///

"Hi, Spencer, I'm Jenna,"

"Hi, Jenna. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's sleeping on the couch. She didn't even wanna go upstairs to bed so she asked me to put on a record and she just passed out on the couch."

Everything sounds foggy as I wake up what I assume is hours later in an uncomfortable position, curled up on my couch. My head is pounding and my eyes feel puffy and I'm now regretting not forcing myself to get into bed. I would have much rathered waking up with my duvet wrapped around me and my head on Spencer’s pillow. Waking up on this stiff couch with my toes virtually frozen and my head twisted uncomfortably on the armrest isn’t how I wanted to wake up post-panic attack. 

I open my eyes just in time to see Spencer setting his go-bag down beside the coffee table, sending me that same stupid, pitiful smile. "Hi," he whispers, coming to sit on the floor in front of me. He raises his hand to drag his fingertips along my cheekbone and the soft touch makes my eyes flutter closed. I’ve gotten used to being without him when he’s away on cases, and having Spencer with me makes all the separated days easier. I know that the moments like this make up for the times I lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, because I can’t sleep if his arms around me and if I can’t hear his heartbeat. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Mm," I hum, but it's not much of an answer, not a satisfying one, at the least. 

"It's good that you got some sleep but you gotta have something to eat too. Do you want me to order something?" I nod slowly at his suggestion that I couldn’t care less about. I just want his hands on me. "Okay, I will. Sit tight, I'll be right back."

A whine falls from my lips as I reach my hand out for his, hoping to keep him from leaving. I just need his touch and his love and his affection to feel better. I don’t need sleep or food or anything he could possibly suggest that helps a person relax after a panic attack, based on this study I read. I love his facts but I just want him to hold me and tell me that everything is going to be okay, even if it doesn’t feel like it will. The boiling hot baths I usually take after a panic attack never do the trick. Nothing does the trick like physical affection does.

"Don't go," the words could barely be considered words, especially not after I mumble them through almost closed lips.

"I’m not leaving," Spencer crouches down again and presses a kiss to my forehead, and I’m sure he realizes that a kiss was the wrong move because I just keep trying to pull him closer. “I just wanna order you something to eat, okay? Let me bring you upstairs and get you in bed and then I’ll call for something. Is that okay?”

Spencer is sitting up on his knees before I even try to answer because even though he's posed a question, he doesn't need an answer. He knows how to help me from the studies he reads and he knows what needs to be done and he's relatively stubborn. So despite how my body feels heavy and how I wish I could just melt into the couch cushions with my arms wrapped around my boyfriend, I force myself to sit up. Spencer scoops me up and carries me up the stairs, setting me down in bed and tugging the duvet all the way up to my chin.

Spencer goes a bit overboard with tucking me in, but I don’t mind, as long as his hands are on me. And he is happy with his work, he finally takes off his peacoat and sets it on the edge of the bed. "I'm just gonna go run downstairs and order something and make some tea, okay? Did you take your medication?" He turns away from me and goes towards the stairs, digging his phone out of his pocket.

"Huh?"

Spencer halts himself from walking down the stairs, turning his chin over his shoulder. "Your medication," he turns his body towards me. "You know, for your panic attack?"

I shake my head, eyebrows furrowed so much that it makes my headache worse. "No, no, I don't have any."

My fuzzy brain can't exactly decipher the look on Spencer's face, but he turns his back to me yet again and rushes down the stairs. I let out a hum at his confusing reaction, but it turns into a disappointed whine as he gets further and further away from me. So, still in my post-panic attack state, I reach for Spencer's coat for some sort of comfort.

As I tug on it, something falls out of the pocket. I blindly reach for it and have every intention of tucking it back into the pocket it came from, but the cool metal of the object heightens my senses, as if the object brings me back down to earth. I hold Spencer's jacket to my chest as I lay back down against my pillows, looking down at the metal circle in my hand. There's a triangle on the front- or maybe the back?- with a Roman numeral one on it, with the words unity, service, and recovery around the three sides. I turn it over in my hand and find a compass rose with only north labeled.

"Amelia?" My head pops up when I tune into Spencer's footsteps on the last stair, his phone in his hand and his untied converse in the other. He drops his shoes on the floor and then leans against the wall, his eyes traveling down to the floor instead of on me. I can feel his shame from all the way across the room and how his embarrassment starts to consume him. He instantly shuts himself off from me and it’s so disheartening to see how easy it is for him to do so. 

"It fell out," I hold it out to him, despite our distance. "What did you order?"

Spencer doesn't move as I hold the medallion out to him, but all he does is tuck his hands in his pocket and study the patterns on his socks. "You don't wanna know what it is?"

I drop my hand against the bed and sigh, having used too much energy to keep my arm up for longer than two seconds, nuzzling my cheek against Spencer's jacket and trying to get a whiff of his cologne. If he won’t come to me then I’ll have to get a piece of him in my bed, even if it’s just the scent on his jacket. I need his comfort. "I know what it is, dove."

He takes a long breath and then walks over, taking the medallion out of my hand and shoving it in his pocket. "Pizza. I'm gonna go change and I'll be right back."

I hadn't even realized he had brought his go-bag upstairs at some point, but I only see it when he carries it into the bathroom. He doesn't shut the door all the way and I find myself wondering why. Maybe he doesn't want to completely shut himself away from me because he can tell I need him close. Or maybe because he didn’t want to rebuild his emotional walls around me, and closing the bathroom door would separate us. But I don’t have the time to come to a clear and coherent hypothesis before he has returned.

He's in a tee shirt and plaid pajama pants when he returns, dropping his bag onto the floor and letting out a heavy sigh. I watch him as he walks around the bed to grab his shoes and begins the process of shoving them into his bag, even though he doesn't need to. He knows he doesn’t need to clean his stuff up immediately. But I notice his medallion in his hand, squeezed between his pointer and middle fingers, and it makes me call out to him. His head whips over to me and I realize I have nothing to say. I need him beside me but he clearly has so much going on in his head and in all the time we've been together, I've never seen his medallion. That makes me nervous. Is this why he's acting like this? Is he thinking about getting his hands on a drug that will ruin his life?

I have nothing to say. But Spencer is staring at me, waiting for me to ask whatever question he thinks I’m needing to ask, as I clutch his jacket like my life depends on it, eyes half-closed as I start to struggle to breathe again. I open my mouth but nothing comes out and a tear drips down my cheek.

Spencer moves to kneel on the bed, pulling his jacket out of my hands and replacing the fabric with his body. "Hey, I'm right here, Lia, just breathe. Sit up for me, sweetheart," He places his hands on my waist and helps me sit up, coaxing my head between my knees. He somehow knows exactly what to do, despite not being able to see me during my previous attack. He knows just how softly I need to be touched and what volume to speak at without overwhelming me. "It's okay, it's okay, I'm right here, don't worry. I don’t want you to get worked up again." I manage to nod, and he kisses my forehead as a reward. Spencer just keeps holding me and whispering praises, tucking my head under his chin and rubbing my back with a feather light touch.  “There you go. There’s my girl.”

“I’m okay,” I whisper, but it’s more for myself than for him. 

“Yeah, you are,” he affirms. "Will you talk to me about these attacks and how I can help you?" His sweet voice is so buttery and smooth that I get lost in it, eyes fluttering and almost completely missing his question. I just want him to keep talking, to read me poetry or tell me random facts that I’ll probably never need to know. I just want him to talk, and talk, and talk, and break me away from the prison in my mind. I just want him to distract me.

“Um,” I lean into his touch when he brings his hand into my hair, scratching me behind my ears like a cat. But when I manage to open my eyes and look at him, he’s giving me such a serious look, one that says he means business, and I know that there’s no room for jokes or wit. “I don’t know. I’ve mostly dealt with panic attacks alone. I just let them happen and wait for them to be done.”

Spencer’s eyes widen in surprise but he quickly tries to hide his reaction, clearing his throat as a distraction, but it’s nowhere close to this distraction I had hoped for. “So you don’t know any coping mechanisms or take any medication for panic attacks?” I shake my head no. “Have you ever gone to a doctor or a therapist about this?”

Definitely not the distraction I was hoping for. I reach for the duvet and pull it over my head, deciding to ignore him. I manage to crawl out of Spencer’s lap and curl up on my pillow with my back to him, earning a defeated sigh from my boyfriend beside me. He takes a breath to speak but then the doorbell rings and I can only assume that means that dinner is here. Without a word spoken, Spencer climbs off the bed and goes to answer the door. I hear his chatting quietly with the delivery person before his sock-covered footsteps echo back up the stairs, and he returns with a pizza box.

Spencer just casually suggesting I go to a doctor or a therapist is so obnoxious and annoying and I truly can’t remember a time in our relationship when I was this mad at him. He talks as though a doctor's visit will solve all my problems and if taking a pill will turn me into the healthy, stress-free, mental illness-free girl that I want to be, but never have been, and never will be. I spent my childhood taking care of myself and my brother and I can keep doing that as an adult. I’ve gotten this far in my life, farther than I thought I would, so I’m not going to fix something that isn’t broken. 

Spencer sits at the foot of the bed and sets the pizza box in the middle of the bed, not saying a word as he opens it up and separates the slices. I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes as I tuck my legs underneath me. I reach for a piece of pizza and lean over the cardboard so I don't get the bed messy. If the bed gets messy and crumby then Spencer won’t be able to sleep tonight, knowing that there’s particles of food all over the duvet. He seems to be on the same train of thought because he refuses to move the piece of pizza in his hand away from the box. If I wasn’t so upset, I’d be telling him how cute he is and finding his cleanliness endearing and suggesting that we eat at the table downstairs instead of my bed. But the tension is so thick that I could cut it with a knife, and I don’t have the energy to ease it. But apparently, Spencer does.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Spencer asks casually, keeping his eyes down as he takes another bite of his pizza. "The way you talk,” he pauses and considers his words very carefully, “you've clearly had panic attacks before."

"It's not a big deal."

"Amelia," the stony, serious tone of his voice makes my head pop up. He looks annoyed, as if he doesn't believe what I'm saying. I haven’t yet learned that lying to a profiler is useless. "You had a panic attack on a public sidewalk and it was so bad that you went nonverbal. Panic attacks happen to a lot of people but they're serious and debilitating and you should get treatment for them."

"Don’t tell me what I should do. I don't need treatment," I answer far too quickly. "I know you have your degree in psychology or whatever but I don’t need to hear it. I’ve taken care of myself for this long and I actually happen to think I’ve done a pretty good job at it, so I don’t need medication or therapy to interfere.”

Realization flashes on Spencer's face and he puts his piece of pizza down, leaning his elbows against his knees. "Seeking out help doesn’t make you weak."

I scoff and roll my eyes into the back of my head, but maybe that's just to avoid eye contact or to repress the tears that burn at my ducts. "That's not what this is about."

"I didn’t mention anything about my degree, Amelia,” Spencer snaps. “And all I’m trying to do is help you. You can go to a therapist and discuss coping mechanisms and figure out why you even have them or go to a doctor and get medication that will regulate attacks and maybe you'll get something to take after you get attacks, it'll be so much-"

"No!" I shout, cutting him off, my hands balled into fists as I struggle to rein in all the nasty things I want so badly to say, but that I know he doesn’t deserve. "I won't! I'm not! I'm fine without it! I've gone my whole fucking life like this and I don't need to be fixed!"

I decide it's the appropriate time to throw a temper tantrum and scramble off the bed, not even bothering to grab a jacket or a blanket or shoes or anything as I stomp down the stairs and throw open the door to the balcony. It's colder than I remember it being and the air instantly seizes up my bones, but I ignore the feeling as I close the door behind me. I lean against the railing and let a few tears silently slip down my cheeks, not bothering to wipe them and instead letting them trail down my neck and dampen the neckline of my crewneck. Fresh air used to always calm me down, but now, being alone on a balcony after fighting with Spencer, the air only feels suffocating.

A few minutes pass before I head the door slide open and Spencer steps out. I expect him to speak right away, to use his profiling skills to defuse the situation, but he doesn't. He drapes a blanket over my shoulders and as frustrated as I am at him and at the world and at myself, the tiny gesture makes me feel better. I'm craving his touch yet again and I wish he would just wrap his arms around me, but yet again, he doesn't. I tug the blanket as tight as I can around my shoulders and imagine it's his arms. His arms that are so close to me but feel like they are miles away.

"I've been a hypocrite." Spencer's voice is quiet, but not in the same way as it was during my attacks. No, before he was quiet for my sake. But now he seems quiet because he can't bear to speak any louder. Like if he hears his own words, he will combust and break down. "I kept something from you too."

I turn around and find that he's sitting down in one of the armchairs, another blanket wrapped around his shoulders. I, yet again, notice that his medallion is in his hand. But he's not trying to hide it, he's staring right down at it.

"Does it have anything to do with your medallion and why it was in your pocket?"

"Partly," he answers, and then looks up at me, pretty brown eyes already glistening with tears. If I wasn’t so upset, if Spencer wasn’t so upset, if the tension hadn’t carried outside, I would have poked his perfect nose and told him how cute he is when the tip of his nose gets red from the cold. My eyes are just focused on the medallion though, being passed between his fingers with expertise and never slipping out. "I'm clean, I promise. I wouldn't risk breaking my sobriety. I have too much to lose now. I've got you, and my job, and my team- my friends, Henry. But, um, yeah, there's something that I didn't tell you and I know that I should."

Partially born from my own selfish need for affection, coupled with Spencer's broken down state, I go and sit on his lap. He happily lets me do so, draping one hand over my thigh, holding the medallion there. I rest my head on his chest and wait for him to feel comfortable enough to start his story. I can feel his heart pounding against his chest and I stare down his hand, tap-tap-tapping on the arm of the chair. His nervousness is just as palpable as the tension.

"So, um, do you remember when we first met? You always like to point out how you're not the profiler here but did you happen to notice how nervous I was?"

"Mm," I hum, racking my brain for the memories of our first few coffee dates. I remember his strained smiles and his stuttered out words. I think back to us spending Christmas together and how, later on, he just blurted out an invitation to be his girlfriend that lacked finesse and confidence. He has always been nervous around me, but I always just thought that he was nervous with new relationships. It never crossed my mind that there was a reason other than anxiety. "Of course. The first day we met, I don't even think you took your bag off, right? I just thought dates made you nervous."

"Well, yeah, that's kinda true," Spencer sighs and when he tilts his head down, his lips brush against my temple. His warm lips bring a shiver down my spine and he holds me tighter against his cold body. "The truth is, about two years before I met you, I had a girlfriend, her name was Maeve. Our relationship wasn't really conventional. We, um,” he pauses and shifts his weight, “she was a geneticist and I saw her when I was having migraines, but then we started dating. We never met each other though."

His constant past tense is alarming. Was.

"We talked on the phone. She had a stalker from before I met her and she wanted to make sure that I didn’t get wrapped up in it. And we had to be safe so we only talked on pay phones. Only on Sunday's and never from the same phone twice. I thought I, um, I thought I loved her and then-" Spencer lets out a breath that sounds defeated, tired, helpless. He drops the medallion into my lap and his hands fly up to cover his face, another shaky breath falling from his lips. “I shouldn’t be telling you this when you're in such a fragile mental state. This is a lot of information and-”

"If you want to tell me then you can. I’m not a fragile little girl, I can take it. But if you don’t think you can then that’s okay too. I don’t need you to show me all the skeletons in your closet because you think you’ve been hypocritical.”

Spencer drops his hands, revealing his quivering lips and wet waterline. I return the medallion to the palm of his hand and close his fingers around it. "I mean,” he lets out the tiniest, saddest chuckle, “I was being hypocritical, being mad at you for keeping information a secret when I was doing the same.”

“Okay, maybe a little,” my slight teasing gets a more genuine laugh out of him, and he drops his forehead to my shoulder to hide it. “But it’s okay. I understand that there’s some things you don’t wanna share immediately.” 

Spencer keeps his head down, his hand in a tight fist around his medallion and the other on my waist, keeping me close. I can practically feel his fear and anxiety and his overwhelming pain through the tips of his fingers digging into my skin, and I want so badly to take it from him. I would gladly shoulder his pain so he doesn’t have to drag it around behind him like a suitcase with a broken wheel. But as badly as I want to, I can’t help him the way I want to and so I just need to comfort him to the best of my ability. 

"She got kidnapped and shot in front of me," he blurts out quickly, the memory obviously too painful to say gracefully. "I realized she was gone so the team investigated and we found Maeve and the unsub brought me inside where she was being held and had me see her for the first time ever and then killed herself and Maeve right in front of me and there was nothing I could do about it."

Sometimes I don't know what to say to Spencer. He sees the worst that society has to offer, and the worst took away the first woman that he loved. I don't always know how to comfort him. Sometimes he just wants to be held and would rather not verbalize his feelings. And although I don’t love it when he decides to not talk things out, cuddling and giving out kisses is easier than arguing with him and trying to get him to talk about things he doesn’t want to. So physical affection is easier. But right now he doesn't seem to want to be held and I don't know how to help him. He didn't want to tell me this but clearly, today hasn't gone how either of us has wanted it to go. I've been spontaneously panicking and he's now confessing that his girlfriend was killed. None of this is right.

It takes him a few minutes to start speaking again, but when he does, his voice is quiet. "I almost relapsed after that," his head finds home on my shoulder again, and his other arm wraps around my waist. He holds me tight against his chest, adjusting the blanket around me to make sure I’m always covered and warm. "When I first got clean, I brought my medallion with me everywhere I went. I couldn't leave the house without it. I brought it with me on cases, to the store, everywhere. Then time passed and I could leave without it, and I was really proud of that. But then Maeve died and suddenly it was like I was right back at square one. I couldn't go anywhere without it. I needed the reminder of all my hard work and dedication or else I would've easily relapsed."

"Is," my voice is shakier than I wanted it to be, "is there something that's making you wanna relapse now?"

"Stalking cases," he answers, and that's not at all the answer I was expecting. I’m not really sure exactly what kind of answer I was expecting, but it wasn’t stalking cases. "They're common and they're not always violent so we don't always investigate but when we do, I hate it. It’s like torture on those cases, just having to relive what happened with her. Hotch doesn't even let me take part in takedowns of stalking cases because we both know I wouldn't be stable if a hostage situation happened. So,” he tucks his head into my neck this time, and I can feel his lips on my skin, leaving light kisses to make up for the heavy topic, “yeah, that’s what I was keeping from you. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, dove. I understand.”

I turn my head away from him and stare out at the city. The sun is setting and the sky is painted a pretty pink and purple, mixed together in a way I wish I could achieve in my work. But the people below pay no mind to it. They speed-walk to whatever their next destination is and keep their noses tucked in their phones, or to wave their hand for a cab and bark out orders and throw money at the person who spends their lives being chauffeurs to rude politicians and businessmen. Nobody cares to look up and admire the beauty around them, beauty that they won’t see some day. They don’t look up at the unnatural colors in the sky or check to see if the clouds have taken the form of a shoe or a candy wrapper. They just walk, and walk, and walk. They don’t care. Nobody ever cares. 

"I'm sorry," I choke out, tears suddenly pouring down my cheeks. I reach for Spencer’s hands, intertwining our fingers but keeping his arms around my waist. I don’t want to be without his comfort and his arms and his warmth. He seems to feel the same because he pulls me even closer somehow, my body completely flush against his. "I love you, Spencer, and you-” I hiccup, “fuck, you didn't deserve any of that."

"You're all I need in this life, Amelia. I didn't think I'd ever fall in love again but now I have you and," I can feel his hands shaking in mine, and although it’s hard to tell if it’s from the cold or from anxiety. "I just love you so much. Please don’t leave me."

"I’m never gonna leave you, Spencer Reid. Ever. I'm not going anywhere," I whisper, but I can't tell who it's a reassurance for. "I love you."

///

SPENCER

///

THE NEXT MORNING

///

No amount of nights turned into mornings at Amelia’s apartment could get me used to being woken up to sun beams in my eyes.

I scrunch up my face as the sunlight flows through the windows and almost blinds me. I roll over and reach towards Amelia's side of the bed, grabbing a fistful of sheets instead of a fistful of her. I let out a disappointed sigh and force my eyes open, popping one lid open to confirm my sad realization that I'm waking up alone. Now I'm understanding how Amelia feels when I have to leave for cases.

I can feel the heat blasting and it makes it bearable for me to exist in only my pair of pajama pants, so I don't bother to put a shirt on. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and check my phone, just to make sure there isn't a spontaneous case on a Saturday, and there thankfully isn't anything yet. So I run a hand through my hair that is probably wild and climb out of bed, making the trek down the occasionally terrifying floating stairs.

I pause on the last step when I peer into the kitchen, the dumbest smile appearing on my face when I locate my girlfriend. She's sitting on the counter in the kitchen with her legs up and crossed at the ankles, dressed in only an oversized white tee shirt and pale blue wool socks. Matching, unfortunately. She's wearing her normal butterfly necklace, I can see from here, but she's missing all of her piercings- nose ring and earrings. Her natural curls are out in full force and are only contained by one of her patterned scarves, wrapped around her head like a headband. She's holding an apple in one hand and she has a book resting in her lap but I can't quite see the spine to read the title. But this is one of the moments I'm thankful for my fancy memory, as Amelia calls it, because she looks so effortlessly stunning and perfect and beautiful that I'm glad I'll remember this moment forever.

I watch her for a moment. She wiggles her toes every few seconds and then takes a loud bite from the apple, flipping the page and darting her eyes across the lines. Effortless. Remarkable. I'm often blown away by her simple beauty. I wonder how she does it without trying. How she renders me speechless. How she makes me feel like a teenager in love. How she makes me feel like a lovesick puppy, galloping around at her feet with stars in my eyes. How she makes me feel like she's completely out of my league. How she makes me feel like I'm the luckiest man in the whole world.

When I decide that I have to get my hands on her, I step off the stairs. She still doesn't notice my presence, I credit that to my bare feet on the hardwood, and she only looks up when a floorboard creaks. She lifts her chin and reveals her stunning dimples, ocean eyes wide for me. "Morning!" she quips, tucking a bookmark into the page and setting her book aside. "Wasn't sure you were ever gonna wake up."

"I don't like waking up alone," I brush my fingertips along her leg as I walk closer, eliciting a shy giggle from Amelia. No matter how many times I touch her, she still gets shy about it. I peer over her legs and my eyebrows raise. "You're reading Rossi's book? What's that about?"

Amelia giggles, picking up the book and inspecting the cover. "It's more of a courtesy, actually. I bought all three books of his the other day and I'm planning on ripping out all the pages to use for a piece of art for my next exhibit. But I figured I'd read them first before I destroy them, you know? He saved my life as a kid so the least I can do is read his books before I destroy them."

"Hmm," it's not really at all the answer I was expecting. I watch her face as she plasters on a shy smile, kicking her feet like an excited child and clutching the book to her chest. I don’t have the heart to ask her any more questions about her decision to rip up Rossi’s books because I don’t want to wipe that smile off her face. "Interesting. Breakfast?"

"Not before you give me a kiss," Amelia's delicate voice balances out the horrors Rossi illustrates in his book as she brings her lips to mine. "If you're cooking, I don't care what you make."

"Sounds like a plan,” and just as I didn’t have the heart to question her art, I don’t have it in me to go further than an inch away from her lips before she decides it’s okay. So that leads to kissing for far too long, the book tumbling out of Amelia’s hands and onto her lap, my hands holding her jaw. Her lips are different in the morning, slightly chapped and not yet bleeding from being chewed relentlessly. But, for some reason, I prefer them like this. And I definitely prefer chapped lips to glossy lips that get all over my face and takes a makeup remover wipe to get rid of. I quickly flip through the last few images of Amelia in my head and notice she hasn’t worn lip gloss in a while. Maybe that’s for the better though. She won’t have to hear me complain and watch me rub at my lips and grimace when my hand gets sticky too.

“Okay, okay,” Amelia giggles, grabbing my hands and pushing them away, “let’s not get carried away. I am hungry.”

“Then why didn’t you make breakfast yourself?” I sass, turning on my heel to start collecting breakfast ingredients and feed my hungry lady. 

“Haha,” she snickers sarcastically, rolling her eyes at me. And a comfortable silence falls over us as I start cooking, occasionally glancing over to watch her thumb through the book. It etches a hopefully permanent smile onto my face.

"I do have a question, though," Amelia fiddles with the corner of a page, curling it between her finger and keeping her eyes down. I hum lazily in response, mixing pancakes batter, far too focused on making sure I get measurements correct to be able to make eye contact with her. "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable but your medallion- well, it," she sighs, obviously not able to find the words for what she wants to say.

It’s not my favorite topic of conversation so early in the morning, but I guess the sooner Amelia asks her questions and gets them out of her system, the sooner we can stop having conversations about my demons. "You can ask whatever you want to.”

"It's not a bad question, I don't think," she responds, and turns so her legs are swinging over the edge of the counter, facing me. "I'm just curious what the compass on the back means. It seems odd to me. I mean, the front says recovery and all but the back has a compass? I've never heard of these medallions having a compass on them."

"The designs differ," despite the relatively tame question, I busy myself by trying to create perfect circles with the batter on the hot skillet. She could've asked me about my experience with drugs and how it feels and she could have unknowingly triggered me, but no. She just wants to know about the compass. I guess that’s better than making me relive relapse or make me remember what a high feels like. "I've obviously been clean for more than a year, so the other medallions I have for other years have different designs on the back. But I always liked the one year medallion the best."

"Will you tell me why?" She presses gently, pulling her knees back up to her chest. I've seen her do this plenty of times, shut herself off from conversations, I mean, and I hate it when she does. On normal days, when she shuts herself off from conversations, I do what I can to put her at ease and get her to open back up. But if anyone should be shutting off from this conversation, it’s me. "You don't have to, if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Getting to one year is really hard," I admit quickly, keeping my eyes off her as I move the pancakes from the skillet to a plate. "So when I finally got to one year and I got the medallion, it was a huge accomplishment for me. And the compass? It’s just a thing that my program preached. North is always regarded as the right way to go, even though that’s not really true in theory, but I never pointed that out. But my program had us pick someone or something to represent north for each person. So that way, if anyone was ever going through withdrawals or cravings, we could think of that thing we chose and it would give us the motivation to get through a hard time. The thing would give us a reason to go north, the right way. Basically, the way to recovery. The way to go back home.”

“And what did you choose?”

“My job,” it’s such an unenthusiastic answer, no light or happiness in my voice. “My job was all I had at the time, but my job being my north never felt right. It was never really motivating. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to get past a year. I had nothing to look forward to.” 

"One more question," Amelia speaks, softer this time. "Can you come here?"

I look up and find that Amelia is resting her chin on her knees, giving me that same cute smile from before. I nod, scooping the last pancake off the skillet and putting it on the pile before walking over, dragging my feet. Amelia drops her legs and holds out her arms, wrapping them around my shoulders the moment I get close enough. I instantly melt into her embrace and tuck my face into her neck, feeling her fingers on the back of my neck, tracing small shapes and letters.

"I know that I didn't know you back then," Amelia whispers, warm breath tickling my skin, "but I'm proud of you. I'm proud that you're strong enough to keep your head up and stay clean. And thank you for trusting me with all this information. I love you so much."

My body is filled with that familiar warmth that I only feel when Amelia is around, and I can't stop the smile that comes to my face. The tears in my eyes dry up quickly at the praise. "Thank you for loving me."

"I always will," she pulls away and slides her hands up to my face, pointer fingertips tracing my jaw and up to my cheekbones. She swipes her finger across my bottom lip and then brings it up to my nose, poking it gently and giggling under her breath. She’s deep in thought, I can tell from the look on her face. "You know,” she smooths down my eyebrows and then her fingers follow my hairline all the way down to my jaw, “I’ll be your north," she suggests. "I know you always tell me that talking to me when you're on cases helps, but I wanna help you with everything, with every aspect of your life. I wanna help you with the ugliest parts of your life, and not just the ugly parts of your job. I'll be your north. I'll be your reason to come home and I'll be- I'll be like your guiding light. I'll be your lighthouse. I'll just," her hands halt on my cheeks and her legs twist around my waist, bringing our bodies flush, "I'll be your north."

My heart is pounding as I smile at her, the tears that had just dried up coming back tenfold. She's smiling her stupidly gorgeous smile but not even making eye contact, just staring down at my lips as she lets her brain settle from all the words she just vomited and as she holds herself back from her obvious impulse to actually kiss me. So I lean forward and peck her lips, untangling our limbs. "I'll be right back," I ignore the sting in my chest at the disappointment clear on her face as I pull completely away from her hold. But I kiss her cheek for reassurance before I disappear back upstairs, grabbing my go-bag.

I return to the kitchen with last year’s Christmas present in my hands and open up to the page I'm searching for, walking up to my girl. Her back is to me, pouring more batter onto the skillet to finish up breakfast. But the moment she puts the bowl of batter back on the counter, I swing my arms over her head and bring the sketchbook in front of her to show her a journal entry.

"I didn't always use it for sketches," I explain as she grabs the book from me, "but I use it. A lot. Read that entry," Amelia goes radio silent as she reads, and I rest my chin on my shoulder to read with her.

Amelia is my north. I always thought that I'd be alone for the rest of my life and I'd never fall in love again. I thought I had been scorned too hard and I'd never recover. But Amelia gives me a reason to want to go home. She gives me a reason to not make that reckless decision that comes to my mind in the field and she gives me a reason to not go out in the middle of the night and go searching for a new dealer. She gives me a reason to live and maybe it's wrong of me to rely so heavily on another person who could leave me just as easily as everyone else in my life has, but I don't care. She gives me a purpose and she's the reason I come home every day.

It's the little things she does that make me love her. I love seeing her face pop up on Garcia's video chats and I love seeing the snacks she leaves in my desk and the notes she leaves for me and how she always makes a point to clean my apartment when she's over. I've never met someone quite like her.

I didn't think I'd ever find a person to personify "north." I always thought that "north" would remain this mysterious entity that I would blindly chase after my entire life and remain following towards a life of recovery, or a life of constant relapse and pain. Or that I would just continue lying to myself and saying that my “north” was my job. But now I know that Amelia is that "north" that will always be by my side. As long as I have her, then I'll never have to chase after a nameless, faceless goal. I'll always have my north right beside me.

Amelia sniffles as she shuts the sketchbook, setting it gently on the counter. "Okay, fuck you for making me cry."

I toss my head back laugh, grabbing her waist to turn her around, taking the job of wiping her tears. "I’m sorry, love, that wasn't my intention."

"That was really sweet, dove," Amelia disregards her tears, throwing her arms around me and pressing her face into my neck. “I’m never gonna leave you, Spence. I want you to believe that. I love you so much. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” I clutch her waist in my hands as if that would keep her from leaving, “sometimes, I just feel helpless and unlovable and when I feel like that, I come to you.”

“Good. You’re not unlovable. I am so insanely in love with you and you’re never, ever getting rid of me.”

“Good,” I echo, pressing my lips to her shoulder and trailing kisses up her neck. “You’re-” Amelia’s stomach growling silences me, her cheeks turning pink as she ducks her head away. “Okay, alright, the mushy love fest is over. Eat some breakfast.”

“I’m sorry,” she giggles, turning in my arms to dish out pancakes for us, “I’m just really hungry and I wasn’t gonna make anything until you woke up. But the bottom line is that I love you and I’m always gonna be in your apartment, cleaning shit you don’t want me to and annoying the hell out of you.”

“Yeah, you definitely annoy me when you leave the curtains open and I get blinded in the morning.”

Amelia turns to me with the cutest smile, holding a plate of pancakes out for me. “At least you get to wake up next to me in the morning.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I lean over the plate to give her what seems like the millionth kiss to the morning, “waking up next to you is pretty amazing.”

 TAGLIST

@bxnnywriting​ @babybloodstonebones​ @blameitonthenight21​ @feralreid​ @anepiphany​ @goldenalvez​ @reidscardigan​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ @stxrryspencer​ @m0rcia​ @whollytaciturn​ @thegingerfairchild​ @yasminwashere​ @shrimpyblog​ @blakes-dictionxry​ @anamelessfacelessnerd​ @wonderlandhatter​ @whxt-to-write​ @inkandexchange​ @just-call-me-non​

[sendrickbecs]

A Token Of Your Love (1/1)

"Come on dude. Help me out here, just stay in the grabby thing and don't fall – fuck."

Beca's hands slam down in frustration, coming in contact with the glass window on the arcade game she's attempting to play and then win – but it's kind of kicking her ass.

The concoction of various smells – burgers, popcorn and candy floss – mixes with the strong stench of alcohol – beer mostly. It's actually kind of nice, despite the fact that it's making Beca's stomach rumble and her craving for a drink intensify.

"One more. This is it. I can do this." She mumbles to herself, but she doesn't quite believe her self-reassuring words. "If I don't win this then Chloe will never love me."

She almost snorts at herself, she's being so ridiculous right now. Not only is she talking to herself in a very public place, but she's also talking to herself about Chloe – the girl she's been in love with for the last three years – and trying to convince herself that winning the toy and gifting it to Chloe will make her fall in love with her, just like that.

The chance that it could make Chloe fall in love with her is what gives Beca the motivation to keep trying, shoving token after token into the machine then failing again and again.

But if she wins the fucking stuffed animal then Chloe – the girl of her fucking dreams – might finally return those goddamn feelings that have her feeling completely smitten. It's Chloe's fault that Beca is even playing this stupid game anyway, and she kind of hates that she's doing something so cliché in attempt to 'get the girl' but it is what it is and Beca is not one to give up on something that she really wants.

She digs into her pocket and retrieves a token – every game in the arcade requires a token to play and she's used every single one of hers on this claw machine.

Once she's slotted the token in, she presses the button to start up the game and begins directing the claw towards the middle of the machine.

It's just her luck – or lack of skill – that the claw once again drops the prize back onto the pile of stuffed animals.

Her head rests against the glass whilst she dials down her anger and reminds herself that it is only an arcade game and it is not the end of the world if she doesn't win. Beca doesn't see it that way, however, because she needs to win this, she needs Chloe to love her, because she doesn't know how much longer she can be 'just friends' for and it physically hurts knowing that Chloe might reject her and then she'll lose her best friend.

So, to Beca, this arcade game kind of is a life and death situation. She desperately needs to win.

Another token is pushed into the slot. At this point Beca has lost count how many she's put into the machine, but she knows she's coming close to using them all up.

"Hi, Shawshank."

Fat Amy's voice startles her so much that she jumps, her hand jolting, nudging the button in the process. The claw reaches down, retrieving a small lion, carrying it a couple of inches before releasing it again.

The lion stuffed animal is not her intended prize so Beca lets out a sigh of relief when the claw drops it only seconds after picking it up. However, she supposes that if she had won the lion then that would be okay too. Afterall, Chloe's ginger hair looks like a lion's mane so she wouldn't throw it back in her face – Chloe would never do that anyway, but Beca just wants Chloe to like it.

She's been at this same arcade machine for a while now with the pure determination that she isn't giving up until she wins the stuffed version of Chloe's favourite animal. Beca cannot wait to see the expression on her best friend's face when she gives it to her.

"Hey, Ames," Beca nods, glancing at Fat Amy's reflection in the glass. She has a burger in one hand and a milkshake in the other.

Beca takes a moment to glance behind the blonde, attempting to locate the other Bellas, but mostly looking for the redhead. When she still hasn't seen them, she tears her eyes away and her gaze wanders back to the stuffed animal in the claw machine.

Fat Amy takes another step forward, tapping the glass lightly with her milkshake cup as both of her hands are occupied. "How much money have you put into this thing?" She asks as she lifts the straw of the milkshake to her lips and slurps loudly.

"Doesn't matter." Beca responds quickly, shrugging before reaching into the back pockets of her jeans, digging until she pulls out two more tokens – her last two tokens.

Amy leans her entire weight on the arcade machine, standing to Beca's right. The smaller girl is watching her out of the corner of her eye, she's munching on her burger yet is still focusing on the way Beca is staring intensely at the bear.

"You've been here for the last twenty minutes. Why are you so determined?"

Beca's facial expression is unclear which only heightens Fat Amy's curiosity. She clearly knows something is up with her friend but is yet to figure out what.

The question goes ignored, instead Beca asks a question of her own. "Where are the others?" Once again she is glancing around frantically. She doesn't want to be caught by the other Bellas – especially Chloe – playing (and failing to win) a claw machine full of stuffed animals. They are bound to tease her for it.

"They're getting Candy floss." Fat Amy responds, her tone a little muffled as she's just stuffed the last of her burger into her mouth.

"Okay, good." Beca nods, her eyes scanning her surroundings until her gaze lands on the candy floss stand. Instantly she's met with the sight of the beautiful redhead, she's grinning at the rest of the Bellas, obviously in conversation.

Cynthia Rose, Jessica, Ashley and Emily are holding sticks of candyfloss and the others are waiting in the line. However, Lily is holding three of the candy floss sticks (without the candy floss) in between her fingers on both hands. Beca shakes her head, not even questioning why Lily is pretending to be wolverine.

Her eyes land on Chloe once more, embracing her beauty at the same time as admiring her smile. Her happiness is just so contagious that Beca's own lips tug upwards, curling the corners of her lips until she's presenting a smile.

Every time she looks at Chloe, a damn smile breaks out onto her face.

"Why?" Fat Amy's voice breaks her out of her trance. Beca flips her head back around and locks eyes with the blonde. "What are you doing?" Amy is intrigued now, knowing the small brunette is up to something, she can see it glistening in her eyes.

Beca lifts her hand to the glass and points to the red panda. "I'm winning Chlo that red panda, I don't care how long it takes."

Amy's expression rises from confusion and a huge grin plays at her lips. "You're winning this for Chloe? Of course you are. That explains why you haven't given up yet."

The brunette scoffs in attempt to reign in her soft side, "Shut up. Red pandas are Chloe's favourite."

"When are you finally going to ask her out? You're head over heels for the girl."

Once again, Beca ignores Amy, simply focusing on the claw as she reaches into her pocket for another token. "I have to win this for her."

Just like every single attempt so far, the token slots into the machine and goes to waste as the claw releases the red panda.

"Motherfucker." Beca kicks her foot into the bottom of the machine, causing a few people to turn in her direction. They all throw her a strange, very judgemental look before continuing with their own games.

"Jesus. Chill out Beca." Amy says, reaching forwards and placing her hand on the smaller girl's shoulder in attempt to comfort her. She sighs, then adds, "You know you could just buy one from the booth over there." Amy throws her thumb back, gesturing to the small booth across from them.

"Those ones are smaller."

Fat Amy huffs at Beca's reply, "Chloe will love it either way if you give it to her. She loves anything you give her. You don't need to win her over with a stuffed panda because she already loves you."

Beca's head snaps up at Amy's words. "Chloe loves me?" She repeats.

"Chloe loves you." The blonde chuckles, as she nods. "You're both completely oblivious and it's annoying, but she loves you as much as you love her."

It takes Beca a few seconds to take in the words. Chloe loves...her. Why her? Chloe could do so much better than her because she's so beautiful, smart and happy, she's so perfect. Does Chloe actually love her? Shit, if Chloe loves her too then she's the luckiest person on the planet. No, the motherfucking universe.

Beca physically shakes her head to rid of the rambling thoughts. "Shit. Really?" She can't quite believe what she's hearing. The love of her life loves her back?

"Yes." Fat Amy nods, "So, let's win this thing and go get your girl."

Beca's sudden wave of confidence makes her a little cocky, causing another token to go to waste. Just because Chloe loves her back does not mean she can suddenly ace an arcade machine. The button is pressed to early and the claw reaches down, picking up nothing but a tigers leg, releasing it's grasp before it can properly grab it.

"Fuck. That was my last token." Beca grumbles, her face dropping when she realises that she's completely wasted the last half hour and spent way too much money to come out with nothing.

Fat Amy shakes her head vigorously, "No, we aren't giving up yet Shawshank." She places the empty milkshake cup down on the top of a smaller arcade game and reaches her hand into her pocket. She retrieves her hand after rummaging for a few seconds, opening her palm to reveal some chewing gum, a condom, a five-dollar bill and two arcade tokens. She takes the two tokens and drops them into Beca's hand, then shoves the rest back into her pocket.

"Thanks." Beca nods with a smirk, but she can't deny that she's nervous. These last two tokens determine whether or not she 'gets the girl' and she wants more than anything to tell Chloe how she feels, even though it scares the crap out of her.

The first token slots into the machine and both girls watch the claw, pleading for it to grip onto the red panda and carry it over to the prize drop. But when it slips from the claw, Beca isn't really surprised, she has never been good at claw machines so she doesn't know why she thought this would be a good idea.

"Last one BM," Amy eyes the last token in the brunette's hand and sends a reassuring grin her way.

This seems to be enough encouragement for Beca because she lifts her hand up and slides the final token into the slot on the machine. She exhales loudly, then clamps her mouth shut after taking in a sharp breath.

Her left hand runs through her hair, trying to get rid of some of the anxious energy. The button under her palm is finally pressed and the arcade game springs to life.

She guides the tiny lever until the claw is directly above the red panda, the four claws positioned so it can easily access the stuffed animal.

Beca shifts her gaze from the machine to Amy, who is standing beside her, she shuffles to the side and peers at the claw, examining the accuracy. She nods and flashes Beca a wide smile.

They both stare intensely into the machine, watching the exact movements of the claw. Beca presses the red button and the claw ever so slowly drops down.

It reaches into the pile of stuffed animals and grips tight onto the red panda, it's a firm hold which is promising, but Beca doesn't allow herself to breathe or say anything in case she jinxes it.

The claw rises back up, still gripping onto the bear securely. It carries it all the way to the bottom corner of the machine – to Beca's left – and releases it over the prize drop. The red panda falls into the empty space and Beca's face lights up at the realisation that she has finally won.

"Holy fucking shit. We did it!" Beca drops down to her knees and retrieves the stuffed animal from the flap at the bottom. She clutches it to her chest and takes note of its cuteness. She is so sure that Chloe is going to love it. "Thanks Amy, I love you so much right now."

Fat Amy is just as excited as Beca, grinning from ear to ear and jumping from one foot to the other. She's pretty sure that she wouldn't object to vertical running right now.

"Not as much as you love ginger." She replies in a singsong tone, teasing the smaller girl.

Beca's expression is displaying a mixture of emotions, she's feeling euphoric and she can't wipe the smile off her face. But there are also a lot of nerves present. She's sort of freaking out because now that she's won the prize she has to actually give it to Chloe, in aditition to confessing her feelings. Beca has never been good at talking about feelings or even understanding how she felt at times so knowing she is seconds away from confessing her love to her best friend is pretty damn frightening.

Losing repeatedly gave her more time to procrastinate and put off the inevitable, but now she hasn't got anything in her way.

After releasing a heavy sigh, Beca shakes her hands, attempting to hype herself up. "Shit. Am I really about to do this?"

"Go get her tiger." Amy presses her hand to Beca's back and forces her forwards a little. Beca gets the hint and moves her feet at her own pace, leading herself towards the other Bellas who are still standing next to the candy floss stand.

Beca switches the red panda to her left hand and drags it behind her back, blocking it from the Bellas view. Amy is behind her and knowing she has her support gives her all the encouragement she needs. If this goes badly at least she knows that Amy will be drinking with her later.

"Hey guys," Beca says, smiling even though she feels like she's about to throw up.

Chloe steps forward, her hands also trapped behind her back, "Becs, where have you been?" She asks, but she doesn't leave time for Beca to answer before speaking again. "I got you something."

The redhead pulls her hand from behind her back and reveals a stick of pink candyfloss. She pushes it forwards, passing it over to Beca. The two share a smile, one that lingers after their gaze shifts from each other.

"Thanks, Chlo." Beca grins at the candyfloss, then back at her best friend.

The other Bellas are standing back, no one daring to say a word, not wanting to risk bursting the bubble created by their two captains.

It's blatantly obvious to anyone that knows the two girls, that they are just meant to be together. The Bellas know them best, so they identify the longing glances and growing smiles between the two girls. They have watched two of their best friend's pine over each other for the last three years.

They know it's finally going to happen, and they don't want to ruin a thing.

"I didn't know where you were, and I didn't want you to miss out on the candy floss. You said it was your favourite." Chloe smiles sweetly, meeting Beca's eyes again. The dark blue misty eyes belonging to her best friend are her favourite and she finds herself falling deeper into them each time.

"It is," She nods, "Thank you. But, um, I actually have something for you as well."

Chloe's eyes light up, "You do?"

"Yeah. Close your eyes and put your hands out." Without question, Chloe does as Beca says, closing her eyes, opening her hands and pushing them forwards. She trusts Beca wholeheartedly so she knows Beca isn't about to so something that will make her feel uncomfortable.

The smile on Chloe's lips only grows as the seconds go by. She has no idea what to expect, yet simply just because it is Beca, she's full of excitement. Beca takes note of the smile and finds herself grinning in response.

The younger girl takes a step closer, pulling her hand from behind her and lifting the red panda onto Chloe's open palms. As the Bellas watch the interaction, they all have their own smiles, Emily is even close to tears.

"Okay. Open."

Chloe snaps her eyes open, taking in the sight of the red panda stuffed animal in front of her. Her entire face lights up even more and she gushes over the cuddly toy.

Her eyes find Beca's once again and both of their smiles are so full of love, that right here Beca is so sure that Chloe feels the same. She can see it in her eyes, and Beca knows Chloe better than anyone, at times she knows exactly how Chloe is feeling based off of the look in her eye.

In this moment, Beca's expression mirrors Chloe's, confirming that she is as in love with her as she is with Chloe. For once Amy is right.

"Do you like it?" Beca asks nervously.

Chloe grins, and nods her head lightly. Before she's even acknowledged her own actions her hands are around Beca's body, embracing her in a hug. Beca reacts quickly, wrapping her own hands around Chloe, squeezing back a little.

They pull away from the embrace after a few seconds, but neither girl lets go of the others hand.

"Becs, oh my god. It's a red panda. I love it so much. Thank you." Chloe squeals, and the sight makes Beca's heart throb in her chest. She takes a second to process that she is the reason why Chloe is so happy right now.

The brunette shrugs, smirking, hiding her inner freak out.

"I can't believe you won me this." Chloe squeezes Beca's hand, reminding her that they are still holding hands.

"First try and everything."

Chloe's smile hasn't stopped growing, but she can't help it. Beca makes her so happy and she loves seeing the soft, loving, caring side of her best friend. Another squeal leaves her lips and she clutches the red panda to her chest.

"Do you have a name for it?" Beca asks, glancing down at it and then back up to Chloe, completely forgetting the rest of the Bellas are here. "Please don't name him Mr Panda."

A giggle leaves Chloe's lips and it has Beca smiling once again. It's rare that Beca smiles yet today she hasn't stopped smiling. Chloe is the reason for that. When she's around Chloe, smiling is contagious.

"Mr Panda is an aca-awesome name." Chloe says, which makes Beca role her eyes.

"Sure." Beca nods, "But it's a red panda so-"

Chloe interrupts her when she has another idea, "How about we name him 'red'?"

Beca doesn't miss the use of 'we' and it runs through her mind on a repetitive loop for the few seconds that she doesn't respond. Chloe actually said 'we' meaning he is theirs, something the two of them will share. Granted he is only a stuffed animal, but simply sharing something with Chloe makes Beca's heart soften.

She really wishes she and Chloe can share something more – a kiss, or maybe even a bond of never-ending love. Because she has loved Chloe for as long as she can remember, from the moment she first set eyes on the redhead at the activities fair she knew she wanted her. It may have just been lust at first, Beca couldn't – and still can't – deny that Chloe is fucking attractive, but her feelings towards the girl only heightened when they landed naked and hot and wet in the dorm shower together.

Beca is sure that if Chloe made a move on her that day, she would have mirrored her actions and kissed her back just as passionately, possibly enforcing something more than a kiss.

She thinks about that all the time, more frequently than she'd like to admit.

The brunette is about to comment on the fact that 'Red' is one of Beca's nicknames for Chloe, but the older girl speaks up again before she has the chance.

"Will you be Red's other mom?" She asks, with a small, almost shy smile on her face.

Chloe Beale does not get shy, that just isn't part of who she is. The redhead is pretty confident and is never afraid to speak her mind yet standing in front of Beca – the girl she's been in love with for the past three years – her expression is bashful. She's almost wary, afraid of Beca rejecting the suggestion. As stupid as it sounds, Chloe really hopes – wants – needs, Beca to say yes. She wants the two of them to be co-parents as well as co-captains. Even if their kid is just a stuffed animal.

It's a pathetic thought but the idea causes tingles to flow all over her body.

If Beca accepts the offer then it's one step closer to Chloe confessing her feelings, which means it increases the possibility of them becoming girlfriends and eventually becoming actual co-parents to actual human babies.

Chloe can't hold back the smile that takes over her entire face.

Amy's previous words are still very present in Beca's mind, 'She loves you as much as you love her.'

Beca loves Chloe so fucking much. It's really no exaggeration when Beca says she'd do anything for Chloe. She literally joined the Bellas for Chloe. Everything she's ever done since she met the girl was for Chloe.

So, if Chloe even loves Beca half as much as that then it's worth the shot.

Amy was right about one thing, Beca is completely oblivious, they both are, because they've both been in love with each other since the day they met but it's taken them this long to finally do something about it. They've finally acknowledged that these feelings might not be one sided after all.

"You want me to be?" Beca asks cautiously, but there is still a slight smile still growing on her face.

Chloe's nod is clarification enough, and it sparks something inside of Beca. That nod is exactly what Beca has been hoping for. Chloe wants Beca to be with her, to share something special, and this is just the beginning.

"Come here." Beca says, holding her hand out for Chloe.

The redhead takes Beca's hand and instantly falls into her arms. Beca's hands find chloe's waist and Chloe wraps her arms over the younger girl's shoulders, locking her hands together behind her neck.

It's kind of perfect how well their bodies fit together. Wrapped up in each other's arms, they shape together perfectly, like they were made for each other - moulded as one.

Chloe is the one to break the contact, pulling away from the embrace, but she can't bare to let go of Beca so she reaches for her hand, gripping onto it, afraid that it might slip away - that Beca might slip away.

A pair of bright, ocean blue eyes meets the dark blue (with hints of grey) eyes. Neither girl breaks the eye contact, smiling at each other as if they're sharing a secret - in a way they are, but it's not going to be a secret for much longer.

Their thought process are so alike, they can tell what the other is thinking - feeling, and they both want to show just how much love they have for each other.

The older senior reaches her hand towards Beca's face and cups her cheek softly, her thumb carressing her skin in swift motions. Beca can feel her cheeks warm up underneath Chloe's touch.

As Chloe inches her face closer to Beca's, the brunette leans in. Their movement is slow, neither girl wanting to rush the moment that they've been waiting for - and fantasising about - for so long.

Their lips meet in the middle, but when they eventually touch, they crash together and all the thoughts about taking things slow have instantly been forgotten.

The kiss is messy and desperate.

Beca's tongue swipes across Chloe's bottom lip, and within seconds she's granted access.

Their tongues explore each other's mouths, memorising everything before Beca pulls away. Chloe's bottom lip is between her teeth, she tugs on it gently before letting go.

Seconds after breaking the kiss, Chloe pushes forwards again, recapturing Beca's lips with her own.

The second kiss is slower, yet more passionate.

"Bhloe is finally happening!" Amy shouts, her grin widening. Both Beca and Chloe hear her - she's not exactly quiet - but neither girl pulls away. Their contact is too precious and in their little bubble everything feels out of this world, they just want a little longer to appreciate that.

The blonde turns to face the rest of the bellas, who are all mirroring her expression. They've wanted 'Bhloe' to happen for so long, shipping their two friends since the beginning and now it's finally happening they are beyond happy for the girls.

"I still think 'Bechloe' is better." Stacie mentions, and a few of the girls nod in agreement.

"Bhloe." Fat Amy replies sternly, "But whatever. Let's leave these two lovebirds to it."

One by one, all of the Bellas begin to walk away. Jessica and Ashley disappearing before the others, heading towards the carousel hand in hand. Cynthia Rose, Stacie, Flo and Lily shift to the right, directing their attention to a row of carnival games.

The youngest of the Bellas is still in slight shock, she's always looked up to Beca and Chloe, and believed them to be her 'aca-parents' so watching the scene unfold in front of her eyes makes her so happy.

"Come on Legacy," Fat Amy says, tugging at Emily's cardigan and pulling her with her as she walks over to the other Bellas.

The two girls wait to break the contact until they're certain all the Bellas have left. Chloe presses a chaste kiss to Beca's lips once more before pulling away slowly, wanting nothing more than to press her lips back against Beca's.

A content smile plays at Chloe's lips as Beca's fingers drift down her arms until they find her hands, connecting them together then intertwining their fingers.

"So, where to first?" Beca asks, glancing around them at the different stands and booths as well as the rides towering over them.

With the biggest grin Chloe can muster, she tugs Beca's hand and pulls at her wrist gently. "The Ferris wheel?" Chloe suggests. Her eyes are sparkling with excitement and the smile on her lips light up her entire face.

It just makes Beca swoon all over again.

She can't imagine ever loving anyone else as much as she loves Chloe. But maybe someday she will. The day their child is born.

What the fuck has happened to the badass Beca effin' Mitchell? Before she met Chloe, she was so sure she was never going to have children, yet now she finds herself imagining starting a family with the girl.

The brunette lets out a laugh, and grins at the older girl. "I had a feeling you'd say that. Come on." It's Beca's turn to tug on Chloe's arm, leading her towards the Ferris wheel.

They manage to jump straight on the ride as there is no queue. The two settle next to each other, Chloe's arm reaching behind the smaller girls and Beca finds herself leaning into Chloe, placing her head on her shoulder.

Beca shuffles a little, lifting her head up so she can look at Chloe.

The way Chloe is looking at her causes a warm blush to run over her cheeks. Their gaze is so intense that Beca has to look away for a second, her blush only enhancing as Chloe's fingers trace patterns on her wrist, leaving behind a hot trail of tingles.

Her breath hitches when Chloe brings her hand to her lips and kisses it softly.

Beca's gaze snaps up to meet Chloe's again, her lips curling up into a smile, loving how it feels to have Chloe looking at her like that. It's the way she's been looking at Chloe for the last three years, but now that Beca really thinks about it, Chloe's been looking at her this way for a while, maybe even the whole time.

How the hell did she miss that?

Beca twists her position and turns to look at Chloe. They are nearing the top of the wheel now but Beca isn't paying attention to the view. As cheesy as it is, Chloe is the only beautiful view she wants to look at.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Beca whispers, close to Chloe's ear. It's so intimate, it's meant for only their ears.

A secret only they share.

A hot shiver runs up Chloe's neck, Beca's breath is warm against her ear and the urge to grab her and kiss the shit out of her grows by the second.

"Yeah." Chloe nods, it's so quiet it's almost a whimper.

Beca doesn't waste any time, somewhat afraid that the ride will be over or come to a halt before she can get the words out. She's spent the last three years hiding her feelings from her best friend and she doesn't want to do it anymore.

She lifts her lips and presses a kiss to Chloe's skin, just under her ear. Beca pulls back and is instantly lost in Chloe's ocean blue eyes, they're beautiful, she's never seen eyes so perfect, so mesmerising. Chloe's eyes are the direct route to her soul and she's so lucky to be the one that gets to know Chloe's soul better than anyone else.

"I love you." Beca says, barely above a whisper, but they are so close that Chloe can hear exactly what she just said even over the eruption of loud music and playful screams.

"I don't want to freak you out by saying this, but I have a pretty good feeling now that we're co-parents that you'll be okay with it, more than okay maybe. Chlo, I love you. I've loved you for a while now and it's freaking me out, but I think you're freaking out too, so I was kind of hoping that we could...freak out together?"

Chloe's grip on Beca's hand tightens. Beca has always managed to ground her, when she's overly emotional or too excited just having some form of physical contact with Beca has always calmed her and brought her back to the present. This is no exception.

Chloe opens her mouth to say something but she can't get much out before Beca cuts her off.

"Becs-"

"Oh fuck. I've totally blown it haven't I?" Beca groans, her eyes dropping to her lap and a frown settling on her face.

Chloe's giggling makes Beca lift her head up, hating the fact that Chloe finds it so funny. But when Beca looks up at Chloe, she knows she isn't laughing at her for what she said. Chloe's bright blue eyes are glistened with tears, threatening to spill.

Before the brunette can acknowledge what is happening, Chloe's lips are attached to hers again, kissing her softly. Once Beca finally gets her head around what is happening, that somehow she hasn't 'totally blown it' after all, she kisses back, mirroring Chloe's passion.

"You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that." She whispers against Beca's lips.

She feels Beca smile into the kiss, then pulls away slowly, pressing their foreheads together. Chloe reaches down and grasps onto Beca's hand.

Her tears finally spill, releasing three years worth of pent up emotions from believing that the love was simply unrequited.

Now she knows it's not.

Beca loves her too, and that's all she needs to know to give her enough courage to say it back, knowing she isn't alone in this anymore, and she never really has been.

"I love you too, Becs." Chloe says.

Beca brings her hands up to cup both of Chloe's cheeks, stroking away the stray tears with her thumbs. Her soft strokes only encourage another sob to break free from Chloe, and Beca's eyes gloss with tears of her own.

The brunette smiles playfully as she takes a glance down at their child in Chloe's lap. She has to admit, The Red Panda is pretty darn adorable, but no where near as adorable as her redhead.

Her gaze drifts back up to Chloe's and she leans in to press their lips together, initiating another kiss.

She's expressing every single feeling towards Chloe in this one kiss and it takes everything in her to pull away. If she had it her way, their lips would never leave each other's, but they kind of have to get off this ride.

The cart tilts forwards, slowly taking them back down to the ground. After a few seconds, the ride stills, coming to a halt at the bottom.

They're back where they started - only now they feel lighter, they've finally confessed their feelings to one another.

The love they share is so passionate and real which is why they know they'll be okay. No matter what happens they have each other, neither girl is going anywhere anytime soon, and for now, it's enough.

They can freak out together and maybe even bicker over silly things, but they'll come out stronger in the end.

Because they're Beca and Chloe. Together they're Bhloe, and everyone LOVES a good Blowie.

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also on wattpad: @writteninbechloe

[lov3nerdstuff]

Burn

*Loki x reader*

Parts: Drabble/Oneshot

Words: 1.7k

Summary: Loki witnesses an incident in the library that makes it all the harder for him to keep his feelings for you a secret. Until he can't any longer...

A.N.: This was part of Someone to you! I cut it out because it didn't fit the story anymore, then planned on using it in Being Human, but that also didn't really fit... So here it goes as a drabble! Enjoy 💗

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One late autumn night, it was still a few hours too early for your usual visit to Loki's room for your daily conversations about just everything, he was looking through the library in search of a new read that wouldn't bore his mind into oblivion. Sauntering through the aisles had become somewhat of a habit of his, the darkness of the room and the presence of so many impeccable pieces of literature had a calming effect on his constantly troubled mind. And it distracted him from the very strong and very irritating feelings he'd started to develop for you over the course of your friendship. Every night you came to visit, it would lead the god into a spiral of excitement, joy and irritation, for he just did not know what to make of these new and dangerously strong emotions for you.

He picked up a book with sixteenth century French poetry, flipping through the pages without actually looking at the words (he'd read them before anyway), when he heard the large doors being pushed open rather forcefully.

"Look, I know it's none of my business, but… it is my fucking business." Tony snapped, but Loki could see neither him nor the person he was talking to from behind the many aisles of books.

"It's really none of your business." You replied coldly, making Loki rise his eyebrows to himself in surprise. Maybe it wasn't the nicest thing to snoop on your conversation… but he was still the god of mischief after all.

"It is my business if it happens in my house!" Stark protested loudly and Loki inevitably rolled his eyes.

"This isn't your house, Tony. It's the Avengers base, and if you like it or not, he is one of you." Your voice sounded so harsh, so determined… unlike anything Loki had ever heard from you. To him, you were always so heartmeltingly kind, so fragile inside out that he didn't even know if you possessed what it took to be of serious assistance in battle.

"He is here because we need Thor, and that was the absolutely only reason I agreed to let him stay." Tony sighed. So this was about Loki himself, after all… "If it wasn't for Thor, Loki would be locked up in a cell in the basement. And he will be, the moment he lays a hand on you."

"You have absolutely no right to decide that… Don't forget who you are talking to, and be careful who you talk about." You hissed back at the man of iron, and Loki's heart did a strange and overwhelming fluttering thing that it hadn't ever done before. Was it odd that he found this harsher side of you irresistibly attractive?

"But you do? Is that why you're sneaking into his room every night? To hook up with him because no one else is available and…" Tony didn't get to talk on, his words disrupted by a muted, strangled noise that made Loki frown. Now he simply couldn't resist the temptation to see what was going on anymore, and he peaked around the corner of the bookshelf. What he saw indeed caused his lips to part and his eyes to widen inevitably.

"Don't EVER dare speaking to me like that again." Your voice echoed through the entire room as Stark floated motionlessly mid-air in between the bookshelves, unable to move or even speak. Yet, you hadn't even lifted a finger, nor spoken a word. You merely stood still, relaxed as ever, watching the man in front of you hanging in the open space. "You are one of the very few people in this world who know exactly who I am and what I am capable of and I expect you to behave accordingly. When I ask you to leave Loki alone, you will do it. When I ask you to stop mocking him, you will do it and when I ask you to trust my judgement, you will do it AT ONCE. Understood?"

With a loud thud, Stark dropped to the floor, breathing heavily.

"Yeah yeah, I got it. Reindeer Games is all yours." He replied, out of breath, and Loki's immediate thought was that he would give anything to be yours indeed.

"Don't call him that. He doesn't like it and thus I do not like it." You said calmly, moving further along the shelves, making Loki hide further back behind his own. What by all the gods had just happened?! You'd been introduced to him as an assistant for the team, someone to deal with all the PR and the sorts… someone mortal and without powers. Loki got the impression that he'd been lied to, very boldly and very WELL indeed. Otherwise he'd been able to tell something was off weeks ago… Lying to the god of lies was such a bold move that it made him smirk as his adoration for you grew infinitesimally.

"C'mon Y/n, I'm not stupid… You keep defending and protecting him, and you're the only one he talks to at all. He even keeps protecting you too, in his own, weird, Loki way. You two clearly are more alike than either of you cares to admit. I just don't get what draws you to him. He's evil, and very much dangerous and…" Stark rambled and you turned around to glare at him in a mere second, making him jump and apologize immediately. "Sorry! Sorry… please don't try to kill me again."

"I am dangerous as well, Tony. You better don't forget that." You replied easily, and a wave of pure power radiated off of you so intensely that even Loki could feel it. It made him shiver and his heart race like mad, while his entire being longed to be close to you. To make you his. Not because of your only now obvious mightiness, even though that was definitely hotter than should be allowed, but because of YOU. He'd been bewitched by you a long time ago, in a way he hadn't understood until now. But now, he saw that behind all the power, it was indeed you he craved. You that had gotten him addicted. Not power, not might… He'd fallen for you.

For another few minutes he kept hiding behind the bookshelf, listening in on the conversation, but found nothing to be remotely interesting about it anymore. Only once Stark excused himself and made his way out of the library, Loki paid more attention to his surroundings again… were you still here? He couldn't hear a thing and thus peaked around the corner of the aisle of shelves once more… nobody there.

"Snooping isn't very polite, now, is it?" Your calm voice spoke up from right behind him, making Loki jump horribly.

"Damn Y/n…" The words slipped past his lips before he could stop them as he spun around to face you. "I tend to stab people who scare me like this! Do you want to risk that?"

"I'm fairly sure you couldn't stab me even if you tried." You grinned at him smugly, standing way too close for Loki's heart to calm down even remotely. "Though I wish you didn't have to find out like this… Find out that I'm…"

"Absolutely incredible?" He finished your sentence with a smirk of his own.

"I meant to say a terrifying freak, but thanks for the flattery." You chuckled bitterly, averting your beautiful eyes from his.

"Why would you say that?" Loki's smirk vanished the second he saw the doubt, the disgust in your eyes, the same expression he had seen so many times in the mirror. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because it's true. I'm a monster... I can hurt people without blinking an eye, kill them with a single thought. Toy with their minds, hell, with all of reality like handful of fucking clay." You spat in utter disgust and Loki's heart clenched painfully. How could you, the most enchanting creature in creation say something so cruel about herself?

"I think that's amazing." He blurted out before he could stop himself. "You… You're amazing."

Your eyes shot up to meet his in an instant, filled with a new emotion Loki couldn't quite put his finger to. "You're not repelled by it? By me?"

"Never." He offered you a small smile, taking an involuntary step closer to you. "You've not seen true monsters, darling. But I have, and I can assure you that you're very far from that."

"So you're not at all scared by the fact that I could kill you right on the spot?" You rose an eyebrow at him, while your gaze stayed fixed on his so intensely that Loki felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine as every nerve within his body was on high alert.

"I've always been one to play with fire." He smirked down at you as he stood towering right in front of you now. Gods, you had long ago captured his mind and soul with your enchanting self, and obviously the rest of him was to follow now.

"Aren't you afraid to get burned?" You asked in a breath, a single finger reluctantly brushing against his hand.

"I'm a frost giant, darling. It takes one hell of a lot for me to burn." He chuckled deeply, capturing your hand in his before you could pull your fingers back. A small gasp escaped your lips as they parted at the contact, your eyes wide as they dug deep into his soul. For a second both of you remained silent, faces only inches apart as the tension threatened to suffocate Loki.

Finally your lips parted yet again to reveal the softest of words into the minimal distance between you. "Burn with me, Loki…"

In half of a heartbeat every doubt vanished from his body. He needed you to be his and his alone, and he needed to be yours in return. Half a heartbeat later he had you pinned against the large bookshelf behind your back, relishing the small gasp you let escape before his lips met yours in a kiss filled with the passion and the desire of multiple hundred sleepless nights. Filled with the promise of a shared eternity yet to come.

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[billhaderlovebot]

to kiss the skin that crawls from you - barry berkman

this is an au in which the shade of the blood depends on what kind of person you are. the blood is black if you do bad things etc etc.

tagging @a-second-hand-sorrow ily

---

cuts and scrapes were normal in childhood, and the frost-white blood that flowed from them was equally as normal.

it was in childhood that the blood was the purest.

the purest white, like snow.

it didn't stay that way, though.

in adulthood, when thoughts and deeds were less than innocent, the shade of blood would change accordingly.

evil things would darken the blood, your mother had always said. evil things would make your veins run black. black like the soot in the hearth, black like the raven.

and you knew she was right.

because you'd seen it.

when the mumbling, shaking, erratic man who your mother had always kept you away from had sliced himself open in the street, blood like coal pouring from him, you had seen it.

as it ran down the asphalt and pooled in the gutter, you watched, in morbid curiosity, before your mother shut the drapes.

it wasn't until later, much later, that you had learned of the many bodies that man had buried.

your own blood, now, was still white, not as pure as it was when you were growing up, but that was to be expected.

you had nothing to fear when you fell and scraped your hands or cut yourself while cooking, because whatever you bled was acceptable and nowhere near dark enough to indicate you were dangerous.

you knew a startling amount of people, though, who were reluctant to do anything that could result in the breaking of the skin.

when they did happen to cut themselves in front of you, you chose never to judge the varying shades of grey they would bleed. blood tore whole families apart. everyone has a past. everyone makes mistakes.

everyone.

even him.

he had captured your full attention from the moment he had shuffled into your coffee shop, looking lost and apologising quietly every time he brushed shoulders with someone.

he was also very, very attractive, but that wasn't the point.

it was late, really late.

he leaned against the counter, pulling out his wallet, and uttered his first words to you.

"hi, uh... black."

"sorry?"

"no, shit, sorry. um, black. coffee. please. can i... get one?" the man exhaled loudly, frustrated with himself. he looked fucking exhausted.

his soft, red rimmed blue eyes met yours for a moment, and you almost melted into the floorboards.

you blinked.

"rough night?" you asked, breaking the tension as you turned around to the coffee machine, flicking the switch.

"y-yeah, i... yeah. working on a scene for, um, my acting class. had to go to a difficult place."

"oh yeah?" you pulled down one of your biggest cups from the shelf, remembering how tired he looked.

"uh huh. it's great, though. the class. my teacher, uh, gene cousineau, he's a little much, but he says i have potential, yknow?"

looking over your shoulder, your stomach fluttered at the sight of his soft smile.

"i'm sure you do." you said, and a comfortable quiet settled over the shop. the only sound being the whirring of the coffee machine, the late night chatter of the last people in there, and the interesting man pulling up a stool.

the man, who you later learned was called barry, finished the large coffee in four gulps, placing it back down on the counter with a resounding clink.

he didn't make a move to ask for another, nor did he get up from his seat. he just... sat.

made him another coffee, however, because you were a barista and it was late and he was gorgeous and very tired looking.

"fuck! you're bleeding." barry exclaimed. you had handed him the other coffee, not even noticing that you'd sliced your finger on the foil of the coffee-bean bag.

"oh." you examined the small cut, wiping on your apron the white blood that had slid down into your palm. it hadn't hurt any. "it's fine. it's only blood." you shrugged, furrowing your brow slightly at his wide eyes.

"yeah... yeah, sorry. you're right."

you fell more than a little bit in love with him that night. his soft blue eyes and the way he spoke like he was being careful of something. the way he walked around as if he felt it was his job to hold everything up.

you wanted to just... hold his hand. and tell him it was going to be okay. whatever it was.

you also wanted him to jump your fucking bones, but you pushed that down and asked him if he wanted anything else to drink.

he said no, but yet he didn't leave. he spoke to you instead. asking tentative questions about your life and your family. you noticed how he stiffened when you asked him about his own, so you chose not to pry any further.

instead, you got him to laugh. a real, genuine laugh.

and your heart might as well have fallen out of your throat and landed on the table. holy fucking fuck, what a sound, that laugh.

it was a silly anecdote from your college days that shouldn't have made him laugh as hard as it did, but, regardless, it was wonderful to hear.

for the next couple of hours, you mopped the place while barry messed around with the jukebox and shot not-so-encouraging remarks from where he was perched on a table.

"mop harder, you fucking goose." was an interesting one.

"can i get your number?" he asked, at the end of the night when he was helping you close up. it was 3am.

you grinned, popping open a sharpie you used to write names on to-go cups and holding out your hand for his arm to write on.

he seemed to stop working for a second, starting blankly at your open palm. then he got it, and slid his arm into your hand, wrist up. he was warm.

you scribbled your number on the soft skin of his forearm, and smiled up at him.

and then you leaned forward on your tip toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

he blushed. hard.

"call me when you need a hug." you said. "because you look like you could do with one."

barry nodded, shooting you one of those small, barely-there smiles and heading out of the door.

not twenty-or-so seconds later, as you were hanging up your apron on the small metal hooks behind the counter, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

"hey. it's barry. from the coffee shop."

---

you'd been in love before, sure, but not like this. never like this.

"what're you doing, bear?" you mumbled in sleepy agitation, shifting as barry wrapped his arms around your waist, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder.

"m'just... i miss you."

"i'm right here, bear." you whispered, smiling despite yourself and leaning into his warmth.

"yeah but... i love you." barry kissed the nape of your neck lazily, holding you just a little tighter. not long after, his breathing evened out, and you knew he was asleep again.

much like the night in the cafe, you just about vomited your heart out.

it had been a while since then. almost six months.

six months of soft kisses and hard kisses and a lot of hand holding and 2am kitchen dances and lazy, sleepy early morning sex and barry being 110% interested in everything you had to say and running lines for his acting classes and you were in love with this man.

and that's why it was so hard for you to accept that there was something wrong.

because there was. but you loved him so much that it would've taken a gun to your head to get you to admit it.

it was around two in the morning, and you were dozing on your couch, a half empty beer bottle balancing precariously between your limp fingers. you couldn't quite remember what you were watching, but the dull crackle and mumble of the television and its meaningless, drawling voices alerted some deep, far away place in your head, not letting you completely fall away into sleep. it had been a long fucking day, right?

but something was off. even now, leaning back into the throw pillows, a blanket wrapped tightly around you, something was wrong. it wasn't only the tv that kept you from sleep. something sinister was afoot.

what it was, you didn't know, but you were about to find out.

when barry shuffled into your apartment, you almost didn't notice him. the only light in the apartment drifted slowly from the salt lamp on the shelf above the toaster, and his tall stature cast a looming shadow across the small apartment.

when you did notice him, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. he did this a lot, coming over late to chat or run lines or have sex or watch tv, and you loved it. he had his own key.

what wasn't normal, however, was the blood.

the blood, unstaunched, grotesque upon his light grey sweater.

the blood that stained his trembling fingertips and came pouring from an open wound on his forehead.

and, suddenly, you were painfully awake.

the blood. sticky. hot.

black.

the blacker the soul, the blacker the blood, girl.

"barry..." it didn't sound like your voice. it was too small. like that of a child. "barry, what the fuck."

not him. not him. not him.

good god, please, not him.

but it was there, bleak as a bee.

tar-black and dripping, stark against the now sickly white kitchen tiles.

"baby, i-" his voice broke, no, his voice shattered. and then he was crying. he was fucking sobbing in your kitchen. such strangled sounds.

against your better judgement, against the poignant twisting in the pit of your stomach, you kicked off the blankets, stumbling over the couch and into the kitchen, where he stood, wrapping his arms around himself as if it would keep him together.

so you did it for him. you took him in your arms and held him so fucking tight. barely registering any of your actions and blinking away the tears that welled in your own eyes, stinging. biting.

"don't say a fucking word." you said, voice muffled by his blood-stained shirt. "don't."

---

when you kissed the tears from his cheeks, you tasted the blood.

barry hadn't needed stitches, thank god, but you had got him into the shower, cleaning the last traces of oil-black from his skin, pressing kisses along in your wake. barry was silent, allowing you to dry him and dress him and pull him into your bed, his head on your chest.

"not you." you said, allowing tears to fall. "i won't fucking lose you because of this."

"i'm... a bad person, baby."

"i don't fucking care."

"babe-"

"no. you're gonna go to sleep, 'kay? and tomorrow, you're going to tell me everything, and we'll deal with it then."

"why are you doing this for me?" he asked, his voice quivering.

"because i love you."

[willow-salix]

Random bit of fun that popped into my head. Grandma Tracy + Selene + cooking sherry =

Selene checked the recipe again and nodded to Grandma. It couldn't be that hard could it, to be all domesticated and shit? She had many manly men that she had to cook for, not that she went in for all the "a woman's place is in the kitchen" stereotypes,  but she did think it was important that they came home to something better than their Grandmother's cooking attempts after a tough rescue, and this one looked like it would be a nightmare mission. 

She could cook most things, basic and homely she called it, having learnt baking from her Nan, although she did like to challenge herself now and then.

She had decided in her infinite wisdom that if she was capable of making simple dishes like lasagna, chilli's, soups, burgers, pizza's pancakes, breakfasts and the like, coupled with the fact that she was actually good at baking, she could manage to help Grandma in her mission. It shouldn't be that hard to make their boys some lovely fresh donuts, something they all loved.  Yep, that was a plan! 

Grandma Tracy had wandered back and forth while Selene was assembling the ingredients, flour, salt, yeast, eggs, milk and melted butter and insisted on helping, trying to add her own selections to the mix which Selene gently vetoed, hiding them in the microwave. It would be fine, with her overseeing the proceedings Grandma couldn't get into too much trouble, could she? 

Selene directed Grandma as they slowly added the wet ingredients into a big mixing bowl, one at a time until they made a relatively smooth mixture, then Grandma added that little by little to the flour, Selene mixing with her hands until they had a rough dough. 

She dribbled some oil onto the worktop, dumped out the bowl and began to knead the slop, gradually feeling it grow thicker and less gloopy, more springy. Damn this was hard work!

"Let me have a try, you youngsters don't know the meaning of hard work."

Selene stepped aside to let Grandma T take her turn, but within a minute the older lady was huffing as bad as Selene was. 

They tag teamed back and forth for a few minutes but her fingers were cramping and she was sure that she had inhaled so much flour she'd be sneezing bread rolls.  She went to wipe her forehead but her hands were so greasy with the oil she gave in. She didn't want to resort to cheating, but needs must. 

She whispered a little chant under her breath when Grandma made her excuses to go to the bathroom and watched as the dough kneaded itself, plumping up and down and flipping itself over as she washed her hands and settled down with a can of cherry coke. The dough flopped itself back into its bowl after a few more minutes and she covered it over and placed it on the windowsill to rise for an hour.  

And she promptly forgot about it, wandering off with Grandma to catch up on "The bold and the beautiful" a TV show that Grandma watched religiously and that had become Selene's guilty pleasure whenever she was on the island. 

Upon returning to the kitchen after learning that Chico was Marion's secret son and that Charlie's amnesia was fake, they found the bowl overflowing and the dough creeping its way towards the floor.

"Stupid magic kneading!" Selene dived at the dough, nudging Armstrong out for the way just as he tried to bat at it with his paw. "No! Bad cat. Leave it!" 

She cradled it in her arms like it was a baby, a big, messy, yeasty baby that was determined to get the fuck out of dodge. She balanced on one leg as she tried to hold it up with her knee, kneeing it like she was playing keepy uppy with a football. 

"Grandma, get a bowl! A big one!" She gave it a big push upwards as Grandma shoved a huge bowl under it, catching the evil, still growing blob. 

"What's wrong with it?" Grandma asked as she poked at it with her finger, diving back when it looked like it would consume her whole hand. 

"Nothings wrong with it, I'm sure it'll be fine."

Against her better judgement, and Selene wasn't known to be entirely sane at the best of times, she grabbed the biggest saucepan they had and filled it with oil, setting it on the stove to boil. Should only take a few minutes....  

She watched as the oil began to bubble and smoke,  knowing it was about as hot as it would get. Witches didn't like boiling oil, call her silly but that had always been something to avoid in the olden days, which was probably why she had taken the few minutes to kit herself out in a huge apron, Scott's spare bike helmet and a pair of Virgil's thick work gloves. Couldn't be too careful. 

She dug her hands into the dough, hitting it with her elbow when it looked like it might try to be the one to eat her before they cooked it. "No! Down! Bad dough!" 

She was sure it would be fine once it was cooked,  witches made everything a bit more lively, the boys could attest to that.

"Watch out Grandma, don't get too close." 

She scooped out a handful and rolled it into a ball then holding it at arm's length, dropped it in the oil like it was a hand grenade. Boom, the oil jumped up to meet her and she stepped back with a squeak of shock. Not good. Nope nope so much nope. Not doing that again. 

"Oh don't worry, it always does that when I cook too," Grandma shrugged as she crossed to the fridge to get herself a drink. "Keep going, it'll be fine."

After rolling another ball, which she caught before it rolled off the counter and across the floor yelling  'cry freedom', she sourced a pair of BBQ tongs to hold it with and dropped it carefully in the oil. 

"That seemed to work," Grandma encouraged. "Keep doing that."

Ball after ball followed and her roll, grab and drop operation was going so well she completely forgot that the oil was actually cooking the damn things. 

"Uh…little too brown maybe…" she fished them out and dumped them into a bowl lined with kitchen towel. She poked them, were they OK? 

"They'll be fine with some powdered sugar on them," Grandma proclaimed wisely, although Selene wasn't too sure. "Do the rest, that's nowhere near enough to feed my boys."

Grandma supervised as Selene slowly worked her way through the dough mass, which seemed to have lost its determination now she had effectively scooped half of it away, though it was still making a strange wheezing noise as it attempted to grow some more. She'd soon put a stop to that! She quickly rolled and tossed more balls into the oil, having perfected her drop and duck technique.  Paranoid that she'd burn the next lot she got them out earlier...Perhaps a little too early, as they stuck to her tongs as she slapped them into the bowl. 

"Damn it."

"Jelly will fix them, " Grandma nodded sagely, "Jelly fixes everything."

Selene threw the last of the balls, now looking slightly less ball like and more like lumps of dough that she was too fucked off with to fix, and began to search the cupboards for something to insert the jam inside the balls. 

She located a turkey baster that Parker had insisted they needed to cook a decent Christmas dinner, and that Alan had secretly been using to squirt the Gordon with. Selene had filled it with whisky that one time and used it to fire at Scott from opposite ends of the couch in an attempt to reach each others mouths. She grinned at the memory.

As if reading her mind- maybe she was a witch too- Grandma vanished and reappeared with half a bottle of cooking sherry. 

"Would you like a little taste? I find it helps me relax sometimes when I'm cooking, you're too tense."

Well, that might explain a few of Grandma's more adventurous dishes. 

Selene looked at the bottle, she could actually do with a little of that right now. She held out her coke can and Grandma poured a healthy splash into the remains of her coke.

"Don't tell John," Selene warned as she gulped down some of the drink for strength as she faced the fried dough balls she was supposed to fix. 

She grabbed a pot of smooth jam out of the cupboard and sucked some up into the baster -not that easy to do it turned out- and holding one of the cooked balls she stabbed it with the end of the rubber syringe. It went right through.  

"Shit!" 

She tried again, splitting another one. 

"Fuck!" 

"Language, Selene!" 

"Sorry, Grandma."

"Let me try," Sally managed to get the tip in one and squirted a generous amount into the donut. But didn't count on the force of her squeezing making the donut shoot off the end and fly across the room to smack Armie in the eye.

"Fuck!" 

"Grandma!" Selene was shocked, but had the terrible urge to giggle. 

Sorry," Grandma apologised, both to Selene and the cat, trying again.

                                    ***

The bowl was a jammy,  powdered sugar covered, slightly oily mess and Selene was on her third can of sherry and coke and honestly, she no longer really gave a shit. 

Who's stupid idea had this been? It was the thought that counted right? 

Grandma had given up over an hour ago and gone to bed, knowing the boys would be heading home soon and Selene desperately needed a shower. She had jam in her hair, sugar sticking to her hands and she'd lost the will to live. 

She plonked the bowl in the middle of the kitchen counter. 

"Sexy spaceman of mine," she texted, "sorry they look like shit…yeah, can't really explain what happened there…but I'll be naked in bed if that helps." She snapped a picture to go with it and called it good, promising to clean up in the morning. 

And she wound her way on slightly unsteady feet,  up the stairs and into the bathroom to shower off the remains of her one and only attempt to cook something you could buy easier,  promising herself a trip to Krispy Kreme in the very near future, and flopped on the bed wrapped in nothing but a towel. 

                                       ***

"John?" Gordon stared at the text that had popped up on all their comms less than 30 seconds ago. 

"I don't even know."

Their brother's long suffering, defeated tone just made the whole thing even funnier. 

"Think you had better get down here, bro," Virgil chuckled. "We'll be home in five."

"Yeah, that's probably wise," Scott added. 

Even EOS seemed to find the whole situation amusing, which in itself was a little bit worrying, as John rode the elevator down to the island. 

Alan and Gordon were staring at the bowl as if it might explode any minute. John spotted the empty sherry bottle in the sink and sighed. 

"Grandma got the sherry out." 

"That's not good," Scott agreed as he too entered the war zone, formerly known as the kitchen, his eyes taking in the precariously piled bowls, the flour that coated every surface, the oil patch that Alan almost slipped in and the grease splattered stove top, the pan of oil sitting abandoned. His bike helmet was on one of the stools and one of Virgil's gloves peeked out from the bottom bowl of the stack, though it was so covered in dough you could barely tell what it was. 

Virgil brought up the rear, his nose wrinkling at the slightly smokey, oily smell that hung in the air. 

"Dare you to eat one," Gordon nudged Alan. 

"Hell no! John should, it's his girlfriend that made them."

"Fiancée," John automatically corrected, poking gingerly at the contents of the bowl. "And no, I don't think so."

"Scott, you're the brave one, you like to take a risk now and then, you do it."

"Like the rescue wasn't risky enough? No way. Virg, you try, it's like modern art, appreciate it."

"Nope, I like my taste buds where they are, Gordo, you do it, it was your idea."

Gordon paled as he looked into the bowl. "All of us?" he asked hopefully. 

The boys exchanged glances and then one by one they all reached into the bowl, their competitive streak unable to resist, selecting the least offensive looking offerings. 

"On three?" Scott confirmed. "One…two…three!"

As one they all tossed their donuts into their mouths, chewing madly, their faces contorting into identical grimaces of horror and disgust. 

Alan raced to the trash can, opening his mouth to let the offending evil drop out of his mouth. 

"Urghh, it was raw inside," he shuddered. 

Gordon followed suit, spitting his out. "Mines burnt."

Virgil managed to swallow his. "Mine was all sugar which pretty much hid everything."

Scott had a dribble of jelly running down his chin to drip onto his uniform, his mouth hanging open as if he didn't dare close it again. Virgil handed him a paper towel and he grateful spat out the offensive food.

"My God, that was foul."

They all looked at John, who was still chewing his dough ball, now matter how much he worked it, it never got any smaller. In the end he too gave up and spat it into the trash. "It was like trying to eat a rubber ball."

Virgil tossed the remains into the trash to spare Kayo and Brains the same horror. "At least they tried."

Too tired to actually be bothered with real food, Scott handed round some bowls and Virgil grabbed a box of cereal and some milk.

They all ate quickly, eating in companionable silence, standing up, leaning against various cupboards and furniture, knowing if they sat down they would likely never get up again.

"Damn!" John moved suddenly, breaking the silence of the room, dumping his half eaten cereal in the sink.

"What's wrong?" Scott frowned, instantly worried.

"I just remembered the rest of her message," he was already running towards the stairs, "I've got a naked woman waiting for me."

Alan shuddered, gagging on his mouthful of cereal. "I did not need to know that."

[bngtanah]

I'm (not) With The Band. | o1

summary: Adrienne is an indie producer who is hired to help co-produce BTS’ next album alongside their resident producer; Suga. Despite the initial opposition on both ends, the pair spend time together, share a few stories, dreams and aspirations and begin to hit it off really well. Wrapped up in the whirlwind of late nights and heated disagreements and reconciliations, Min Yoongi and Adrienne Rolle find themselves growing closer and closer. One night they decide to cross the barrier between personal and professional and do their best make a relationship work against all odds.

pairing: Min Yoongi  x Named OC

genre: drama, romance, smut

chapters: prologue| o1| o2| o3| o4| o5| o6| o7| o8| o9| 10| 11|

warning: light angst, smut, fluff, workplace relationship, slow burn, sexual themes, ambw, enemies to friends to lovers, developing relationship

a/n: still a fool. still re-uploading.

Shoulder’s back, big smile.

By now Adrienne had perfected this routine, putting up just enough of a front to hide the nervous jitters fluttering around in her stomach and the small wave of dread that made itself at home in her heart each time she met with a new music exec. Of course, the butterflies disappeared once she got comfortable but the initial fear always made her want to run in the opposite direction. It had been an extremely hectic fours months since she moved to Korea and Adrienne doubted if she was going to feel settled anytime soon. Between moving into a new apartment, her packed schedule of Korean lessons set up by her new company and the struggles of adapting to an entirely new culture, Adrienne didn't know whether she was coming or going. The worst part of it all was that she hadn't even started working on music yet and that was the sole reason for her being here.

To be fair, she understood that the need for her to learn the language took priority at the moment since she couldn't bring a translator with her everywhere she went. That knowledge didn't make the actual learning process any easier but at least she understood why she was learning how to  count again instead of making music like she wanted to. Today's meeting, hopefully, would change that since she was supposed to be meeting the group she'd be working with over the next few months. Starting from her first week in Korea Adrienne had been meeting with the founder of her new place of employment, Bang Si-Hyuk, and although communicating with him and other members of the staff was difficult at first Adrienne honestly felt like she made the right decision in coming to work for them. Currently, her Korean was nowhere near the level she wanted it to be in order to feel comfortable speaking but at the very least she was able to communicate and understand simple sentences. 

Hopefully everyone she met spoke really really slowly.

The petite brunette clutched the notebooks filled with music and lyrics in her arms closer to her chest as she lingered in a small room she wasn't familiar with, she was given a tour of the BigHit building when she visited the first time but this particular room with different kinds of trinkets and toys placed all about was definitely not a stop on that tour. Korea was a far cry from her hometown; common, similar and friendly people and places being replaced with the sharp, unfamiliar and often aloof scenery of the far east. It was…jarring to say the least when she’d first arrived in the city but after being here for a few months Adrienne was certain she would get used to it, eventually.

The sensation of her phone buzzing in her pocket made Adrienne jump and drop the notebooks she was clutching to her chest.

"Yeoboseyo!" Adrienne answered in an overly cheery voice.

"Andy?"

The sound of her sister's voice made Adrienne sigh in relief as she bent down to begin picking up the books she dropped.

"You've only been there for a couple months, have you already stopped speaking English?"

"Shut up, my tutor says that I should speak in Korean whenever I have the chance so I can get used to talking."

"Oh, that makes sense. Have you gotten any better since the last time we spoke?"

"I think it does too, and do you mean last week? No, I don't think I've gotten better since last week" Adrienne chortled and shuffled around the pages that fell out of her notebooks "I mean I understand the basics of pronunciation but it's the vocab and remembering how to structure my sentences that's really tripping me up."

"Right, right. Well just keep it up I know you'll get it soon."

"Thanks sis, did you just call to check up on my progress? I know this call is expensive for you."

"No, that's not all I wanted to hear how your meeting went! Were they nice to you? I don't need to fly over there and kick anyone's ass right?"

Adrienne giggled and shook her head even though Danielle couldn't see her "You know it's only a little after two o'clock here right? I haven't met anyone yet. I'm actually sitting on the floor in the middle of a computer room or something. I have no idea when they're going to show up."

***

Yoongi was tired. 

Actually, tired may not have been an accurate description for what he was feeling at the moment; exhausted, drained, depleted were all good words but still weren't quite enough to cover it. He had been up and on the road before the sun had risen that morning and his day was showing no signs of ending or slowing down anytime soon. The day started off with a fansign event in an area nearly three hours from their dorm which meant they had to get an early start if they were going to do the fansign and make it back to Seoul for the interviews they had lined up to begin promoting their upcoming album which they hadn't even started preparing yet. When his boss informed him that they were contracting an outside producer to co-produce their next body of work Yoongi assumed he meant someone from Korea, not an unknown person from a country Yoongi had never heard of, which meant that they'd have to teach them their language before they even began working together. He hoped that all the effort and expense the company was exerting was worth it for this one person, but being the slightly pessimistic person he was Yoongi highly doubted it.

He was only partially asleep when they pulled up to the BigHit building, he would never be able to restfully nap with all the noise Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook made during their commutes. When they pulled up to the entrance Yoongi was jarred awake, accidentally, by a paper ball that was meant to hit Jimin, who was sitting next to him. 

"Who's throwing things?" Yoongi groaned and sat up, the sour look on his face making it obvious just how annoyed he was. Taehyung's eyes widened when he caught notice of this and he immediately turned around and faced forward.

"You have to get up anyway Yoongi-hyung" Namjoon spoke up from the front seat of the van "We only have a few minutes before our next interview so you have to talk to the new producer now."

Yoongi huffed but got up and quickly exited the van, well as quickly as he could move, he was not looking forward to this at all and that was apparent in his movements. The last thing he wanted to be doing was babysitting someone for the rest of the day on top of the photo shoots and interviews he and the rest of BTS had scheduled, he did enough babysitting with his group members. Unfortunately, the plans for the day were not up for Yoongi to decide so he found himself wandering through the halls of the BigHit building until he stopped in front of the room he, Namjoon and Hoseok spent the majority of their time in when they weren't practicing or on the road. As his hand moved to twist the doorknob he paused and leaned an ear against the frosted glass. He could hear a muffled voice inside that sounded very female and very foreign.

It took him a few seconds to form a gameplan, on the one hand, there was the possibility that the voice could belong to a sasaeng who managed to sneak past security and he'd be risking his safety to go in alone. There was also the possibility that the voice belonged to his new co-producer but that seemed less likely, surely his boss would have mentioned the person he would be working was female at least once. Yoongi realised he was wasting time he didn't have to spare just standing around doing nothing so against his better judgement he twisted the doorknob and walked through.  

The sight he was met with made him stop in his tracks and raise a confused eyebrow skyward; someone he didn't know was sitting on the floor surrounded by pages of sheet music while singing into a cellphone in a language he didn't understand but he guessed to be English.

"Uh-Can I help you?"

The woman's head whipped around and green eyes scanned over his face before meeting his own and Yoongi became frozen in place.

***

“Can I help you?” The sound of a male voice pulled Adrienne from her acapella and made her head snap to the direction it came from, her eyes bouncing all over the boy's features. It took her a second to recognise the face but once she did Adrienne smiled and moved to stand up.

"Dani, I'll call you back" Adrienne whispered into the receiver before disconnecting her phone call and putting her cell phone into her pocket. "You're Suga, right? It's nice to finally meet you! I'm Adrienne" She spoke slowly and carefully even she had this introduction practically memorised by now, all she needed to do was insert someone's name.

Yoongi was still standing in his place near the front door while Adrienne introduced herself, it wasn't until she bowed and moved closer that he remembered they were on borrowed time and he didn't have the luxury of gawking. 

"Yeah, I'm Suga" He croaked then cleared his throat "What did you say your name was?"

"Adrie- Call me Andy if that's easier. Um, I'm the co-producer? We were supposed to meet today?"

"Seriously?" Yoongi blurted out.

"Yes, I guess no one told you I was a woman....or black." Adrienne chuckled nervously.

"Oh, n-no that's not," Yoongi exhaled and opened his mouth to speak again before his phone began buzzing; it was a message from Namjoon asking what was taking so long. "We have to go now," He said to Adrienne as he gestured toward the door.

"Go? I thought...what about the music?" She asked and gestured toward her notebooks.

"No time," Yoongi answered in halted English "We talk on way."

On the way to where? Adrienne wanted to ask but considering the fact that her partner was already halfway out the door she knew she wouldn't have to time to question everything. So she quickly scooped up her notebooks off the floor and scurried after him before she lost his trail. He was quiet as he led them back out to the van where everyone else was waiting and they made sure to let Yoongi know that they had been waiting for him by berating him loudly and incessantly when the van door slid open. That is until they caught sight of the small girl trailing behind him and the complaints slowed to a halt while their attention focused in on Adrienne as she climbed into the van after Yoongi did and took the empty seat next to his since she assumed that what she was supposed to do.

"Hello," she waved and spoke softly from the back of the van. The driver began to pull off but everyone's eyes were still trained on her, "I'm Andy, the new producer?"

"Oooh," they all sighed collectively and nodded in acknowledgment. 

"Your hair is pretty" Adrienne heard the boy with a deep voice compliment her from the middle row and she smiled timidly as the two boys on the side of him playfully punched his shoulders and chastised him.

"Thank you" She answered through her chuckles as she twirled one of her braids around her fingers. "I'm really excited to start working with all of you," Adrienne spoke up again as she felt Yoongi grumble and sink down into the seat, his beanie being pulled down over his face in a way that signified he had no desire to talk at that moment. 

Which was fine by Adrienne, she wanted to get to know the people she would be making music for anyway. Something told her she was going to enjoy that process more than anything else.

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

I too am in a TWW rewatch, because well I enjoy torturing myself by watching competent articulate political types. (That and the great tv) I'm really struggling with Will. He seems like such an creep the further it goes on yet all the female characters seem to like him. I feel like I'm missing something. Do you have any views on him?

I have views on everything!! :D Seriously though, nobody’s ever asked me about Will so what a great chance for an essay. (This got REALLY long, fair warning.)

First, a disclaimer. I’ve never been very active on Twitter, but when I started using it, I mostly followed TWW actors. I occasionally tweeted at them, and I never expected responses, because they were amazing actors from this show I revered, and I was a random fangirl on social media. But two of them did, and were SO nice, and it shocked me so much back in the day to realize how kind and down-to-earth TWW cast is, when I had just seen the series and hadn’t yet found tumblr or watched interviews. It really made an impression on me. Richard Schiff called me ‘very sweet’ and won my heart forever, and Joshua Malina was also totally friendly and nice, so much so that I felt bad for never really liking his character much.

That’s right, I too used to think Will was obnoxious. But once I realized the actor was kinda awesome, I reconsidered his character and gave him a chance. So I’m glad you asked me, as I’ve been on both sides with Will and really love him now.

IMO, Will Bailey came in not just as a replacement for Sam, but also as a character with very different values, who was meant to contrast with our heroes at a crucial time.

Mid-S4, when Will is first introduced, we meet him as a skilled, idealistic writer who’s also got strong organizational and leadership skills. That’s different from any of our faves, since both Sam and Toby are talented wordsmiths, and both are idealistic in their own ways, but they’re also both oriented towards behind-the-scenes work. Toby is very team-focused and loyal but he would like it if everyone would leave him alone and let him do what he’s good at–messaging and writing and trying to nudge the people around him onto the path he thinks is best. When CJ is promoted above him to become COS, he cares even less about the professional snub than Josh does, because it’s not something he wanted.

And while Sam has political aspirations, he never really shows leadership qualities. He’s an excellent second to Toby and even for Josh when needed, but he’s also shown to be the least canny and experienced of them all, and you could argue that being in front of the camera as a candidate for office doesn’t always equal being a leader, if your staff is really running the show for you, which is what Sam’s campaign looks like. Everyone around him coordinates the details and runs things to leave him space to just be The Guy. But Will Bailey is both the guy running the show behind the scenes AND the guy who can get on camera and speak about the politics and ideals of his campaign because his family and professional background made him much more well-rounded. Heck, he’s even in the armed forces on top of all that! He’s portrayed as good at all the things he does.

Now, what’s interesting to me is that Will, as he’s first introduced, is much more confident and idealistic than he is later on. Early Will goes through a serious transformation, from Toby’s new second to an independent operator who lacks the loyalty the others have to a man more than to a party. To some extent, Will’s rebellious, ‘you need me more than I need you’ attitude was there from the moment Sam showed up to his winning campaign, but I think that who Aaron Sorkin (who had worked with the actor a lot before) conceived him as changed after Sorkin left. The showrunners for S5-7 saw an opportunity in his character’s feisty campaign background and turned him into someone with even less personal loyalty and more detached pragmatism.

The fact is, that’s not what Sorkin-era TWW is about. One of the reasons the later seasons are so different is their clear-eyed look at campaign chaos and shifting loyalties and all the small on-the-ground work that we didn’t see with President Bartlet. The earlier seasons are very much about our found family of staffers and the First Family and watching them fight the status quo that constrains them because they won. They always want to do better, and be better, and as much as they acknowledge the reality that you have to win in order to change the world, the show still promises us that it’s the change that actually matters, and it isn’t worth winning if you have to sell your soul to do it.

So if there’s a spectrum along which everyone falls, based on how much they’re willing to ‘go along to get along’ versus making trouble for the sake of their beliefs, Will Bailey is on the exact opposite end from say, Amy Gardner, with our core characters in the middle. I’ve rambled about Amy before, about how her values and priorities are so different from our heroes that she’s an antagonist even as she works with them a lot of the time. Will has the same complicated relationship with the people we’ve been rooting for for years, but for drastically different reasons. Amy is at odds with the West Wing because she’ll do whatever it takes to win the argument and get what she wants, pulling the Democrats to the left whenever possible.

Will, though–especially in S5 and beyond–is at odds with the West Wing even when he’s in the West Wing, because for all his ideals, he has no problem with compromise. He sees nothing wrong with moving to the middle if it helps you win, if it gets you more power. He’s willing to look like an idiot for the White House, he’s willing to go in front of the press core and be beaten up for days if it will help the cause, he doesn’t hesitate to jump to a new campaign that he thinks could win, because winning is how you get the things you want. Probably, being a diplomat’s son has something to do with how accommodating he is, and how able Will is to justify any position, any choice. We’re told he’s very good with words, but he was probably also good at Debate in school, because he can clearly turn any situation around as needed.

Which means that while Will’s instinct is to adjust and Amy’s is to dig her heels in, they share the one quality that makes any TWW character harder to like: they answer only to themselves. Above all else, their ‘constituency of one’ is themselves rather than a specific politician or even the party. Will is a Democrat, but he’ll happily buck the party wisdom in favor of what he thinks will win. And that puts him up against Toby, the President, Josh, etc, at different times because he bases his choices on his own ideals and they’re just different from those of the Bartlet Administration, which spends 8 years fighting to stay progressive and deciding it’s better to go down fighting than do or say things they don’t believe in.

Will is also an interesting foil for Donna after she leaves the White House, and not just because they become coworkers and good friends. Along with the fact that she left Josh and struck out on her own, most of her post-Sorkin conflict with Josh is actually based on WHO she went to work for and how differently she and Josh see that decision/what it says about her and her time working under Josh. By going to work for Russell, Donna shows that she’s less concerned with finding the perfect underdog candidate and more interested in a future that keeps up Democratic progress after President Bartlet leaves office. She is never dedicated to Russell as a man, and over time becomes visibly concerned with his flaws as a man and a candidate. But tellingly, Will isn’t any more personally loyal to Russell than Donna is–and he’s the one running the man’s whole campaign!

It says a lot about Will that for all the moments when Russell shows himself to be less than honorable, Will clearly disagrees with his actions…but he stays. Because Russell was never why he left the Bartlet Administration, or why he took on the new campaign. He took it on because he’s good at winning campaigns, and in Russell he saw someone who could win, and he may have even admired the antagonistic streak that came out once Russell became VP. Russell also had no interest in the ‘cult of Bartlet’ and quickly proved that he wouldn’t even have the level of respect that Hoynes had for Josiah Bartlet as a man. Most of the characters on TWW consider that strike one against Russell and a major character flaw, but Will doesn’t. He respects the President and the office but he didn’t know Jed before the MS reveal, he sees him from more of a removed distance, and his White House job is a JOB to him more than a calling.

Again, some of this was less true during the Sorkin era. The Will Bailey who lost the ability to speak when he was officially offered Sam’s position is much more in awe of the gravity of it all, and it’s hard to see that guy jumping ship to support a moderate candidate that nobody in the White House even likes. But the hints of who he ends up as were there from the beginning, the way he tells off Sam and Toby even before he works with them–he’s always an outsider.

So the outsider factor, that makes it harder to like Will or any TWW character that doesn’t automatically get along with the others. Ainsley Hayes may be ‘the enemy’ as a Republican, but she is amiable and smoothly tries to change minds–and when she isn’t able to, she opts to live and let live. Will is harsher, more combative at times, and I don’t know if it’s just me, but that makes me feel defensive and protective towards the staffers he’s arguing with. After all, I adore them and I barely know him, how dare he?

But of course, his actions and his beliefs make perfect sense from HIS perspective. He’s had a successful career, and being a part of the Administration was never a goal of his, so he doesn’t need to go out of his way to defer to their judgement or stay quiet in the face of their superior wisdom. He was raised to know how to work people and get his way, but he was also raised with incredible privilege and confidence and if he was banished from TWW inner circle it wouldn’t be much of a loss for him. Being an outsider isn’t a problem for him, he spent his life that way as a diplomat’s son, so he never feels the need to conform the way he would have to in order to really become a part of the gang.

Honestly, the only reason he ever gels as a part of the group is because Josh leaves and Toby is fired and they need Will to speak for the White House–finally he’s the ultimate insider, he’s the Bartlet mouthpiece, and the only original senior staffer left is CJ, so once Will and Kate bond they’re the center of the staff that’s left, and he has somebody on his side. (And once he’s off the campaign trail, the show goes back to highlighting his neurotic and geeky side, because he can’t be the ‘win at all costs’ guy anymore and needed a new focus.)

So here’s why I think it can be hard to like Will: he often seems like an entitled, immune-to-criticism, antagonistic opportunist. At his worst he seems to think the means justify the ends, despite his progressive beliefs in general, and that means he’s the guy who could get almost anybody elected–which is great when it’s S3 and Bruno Gianelli is on Bartlet’s side, but less so when Russell seems like not much of an improvement on Hoynes in terms of decency and intelligence and Will has the skills to actually make that guy President.

BUT, (and I can’t guarantee this will help you but I think it’s important because Will does exist as a complex, multidimensional character, and that’s a good thing even though it means he has flaws) at his best he is an adorable dork who wants to make the world better, will take jobs because he believes they need doing even if they’re not his own personal dream, is willing to put himself in danger to save and protect others, and is not just talented but also very knowledgeable about the same kind of geeky Constitutional and political history that Jed Bartlet is.

What I’m trying to say is that Will, as much as anyone on TWW, is the product of his good and bad qualities, and both sides of that equation come from his core traits. His ability to ignore others’ criticism because he’s secure in who he is can be annoying when it’s Toby or Josh trying to talk sense into him, but it also means he survives hazing with friendly ease and stands up for the White House’s positions like a pro. He cares more about winning than fighting the narrowest version of the good fight, but he’s not wrong that winning is better for progressive goals than losing for the sake of ideological purity (hi 2016, I have not missed you). He isn’t loyal to the Bartlet Adminstration above all else–but if everyone were, then the President would be a dictator. Intra-party fighting can weaken a party but it also allows for diversity rather than a cult mentality.

So, here’s what it comes down to. Will isn’t Sam, and that means Toby could never really like or trust him, even if he had become more loyal. Will is a political relativist, which means Josh was never going to agree with his choices, as Josh has always put people first and hates having to compromise. Will is a privileged white guy (played by a Jewish actor, but never canonically established as Jewish) so CJ tolerates him but doesn’t genuinely like him for some time, because that’s just how she rolls. Leo leaves Will under Toby’s purview, and Jed has even less direct interaction with him. He spends a lot of his time battling a group of young female interns we never see again (tbh I can’t stand those scenes and if that’s where you get your creep factor, I get it). Given how disconnected he often is from the central cast, is it any wonder he’s mostly underappreciated and ignored by fans as well?

As for why the female characters on the show don’t seem bothered by him, even when you are, I think there’s a couple of possible explanations. First of all, TWW is a show that doesn’t show us that much–we have to assume that all of these characters, who practically live at work, spend a TON of time together offscreen, just by the nature of their jobs. If most of that time is similar to Will’s comedic scenes, where he’s a giant nerd with bikes in his office whose response to stress is the fetal position, then presumably his coworkers see his flawed human side, in an endearing rather than annoying way.

And secondly, we as viewers don’t have that perspective. We don’t even have the benefit of being these characters living in the early ‘00s, when it was a given that the government would be full of overconfident oblivious men and that’s just what women were expected to handle with poise and sweetness. Clearly things haven’t changed much over the years when it comes to White House staff and a backdrop of misogyny at work, but for a lot of us as viewers the world has progressed.

So Donna gets along with Will as her boss who can be kind of dense or morally ambivalent sometimes, but she’s also spent almost a decade dealing with the most powerful men in America. As an assistant, for most of that time. To her, even Will’s worst moments are barely a blip in the grand scheme of things. And CJ is totally unimpressed by Will’s smarts and talent because she works with the smartest and most talented men she’s ever known, but he serves a purpose and doesn’t get in her way, so she has no problem with him. Kate rose to power through the ranks of military men and has definitely seen, and probably injured, worse guys than Will Bailey. All the women of TWW have spent their careers dealing with men of varying character. I mean, even compared to some of Sam’s comments, Will must seem downright harmless.

TL;DR Can Will Bailey be a patronizing know-it-all who puts his own interests before party and found family? Absolutely. Is he a bad guy? Not at all. He’s just a different kind of good guy than those The West Wing conditioned us to admire and root for.

[inatyzzy]

[had this random idea plop in my head soooo here we are lmao hope ya like as an early halloween gift]

Are You Filming Me? (original creepypasta)

The following is a post from a now deleted Facebook profile.

Hello to anyone who ends up reading this. I have something I've needed to get off my chest for a while now. I'm using a burner profile since I want to remain as anonymous as possible for this story while still sharing my experience. But if you want to call me anything then just call me J.

This happened months ago, so the events are still fresh in my mind. It started when I was looking through my email. I was scrolling through my inbox and was expecting an important email that day. I didn't see it in my normal inbox, so I decided to see if it was incorrectly sent to my spam and junk ones. While I didn't find it there, I did notice an email in there that kind of jumped out to me. The email address it was sent from was a series of random numbers and letters the @watchingus.org. The subject was a period. The email was some sort of job listing? I don't know if that's the right word. They were looking for people to participate in an online experiment and offered pay. I immediately caught this as some sort of scam, but I can't lie. I was kind of interested in how this scam would work. Attached to the email was a link to watchingus.org. After setting up my VPN and antivirus software, I clicked on the link out of pure morbid curiosity.

The website reeked of an early 2000s website that any random person that knew how to use HTML would make, with it's black background with neon text. The email was only a week old, so it's outdated website look was confusing to say the least. The website was barren, but there were various tabs on the top. There was 'home', 'join us', a search bar, and an 'advanced search' tab. I just decided to run through the home page then look at what's actually on the page. If I was interested enough, maybe look at the 'join us' tab.

The home page only consisted of an 'about us' and an empty 'contact us' section. This makes me think the website was new and didn't have much time to set everything up. The 'about us' section was incomplete. There was text, but it consisted of that "lorem ipsum" filler text. I was pretty annoyed at this point and just shot to the advanced search bar since I didn't know anything about what this was about.

In the advanced search, there were two options with sub tags beneath them: location options and identity options. Location options was self explanatory. There were sub tags of different locations but they weren't of countries or states or whatever. They were more specific than that. 'Homes', 'Schools, 'Dorms', 'Restaurants'- those are only some of the tags I can remember off the top of my head but there were way more. The identity option was even creepier. Sub tags were of things like 'Age', 'Gender', 'Sexuality'. There was even a selection called 'Names' with letters to click from.

I was creeped out. What the fuck did I stumble upon? Surely this couldn't have been as bad as it seemed? I clicked the 'dorms' option and clicked search. What came up was a YouTube-like format of videos though none of them were named. Instead, there were various tags listed beneath the thumbnails. Things like 'Dorms', '22', 'Female', 'Heterosexual' or 'Dorms', '19', 'Other', 'Unknown'.

Against my better judgement, I clicked a video. It was almost normal. A girl was picking out food from a mini fridge and preparing a meal. There was no sound or anything. It was just a girl going about her day in what looked to be a shared public kitchen. I clicked another video and another and another. They were all so normal. People going about their daily routines, sometimes with multiple people just talking. This all felt wrong to look through but I wanted to know the context.

I hated watching the videos and felt grosser by the moment. I clicked on the 'Join Us' tab in hopes for better context. It only made my blood run cold. The words are still so clear in my mind.

'Thank you for joining us. You have been live streaming for [1 week] and [2 days]. Help us grow by entering your information.'

Below the text was a live video of me taken through my webcam.

I immediately shut my laptop. I wondered if I was being watched for all that time without me even realizing it. Did the people in the videos know that they were being watched?

I called the police. When they came to my dorm, the laptop had blue screened and was restarted. The windows all were close. Thankfully, I still had the email and used it to get to the site. When I got there, it said the website was not available. I gave the police any information I could and forwarded the email. I haven't heard anything else about the website. A part of me wants it to be kept that way.

Nowadays, I keep all my cameras covered up. I don't know if they can still see me.