#all their faxes changed at once like “we know what were doing for the rest of the night” LMFAO

[ask-weirdmageddon]

Pyronica: Coke is better than Dr. Pepper-

Kryptos: YOU TAKE THAT BACK!!

Little comic doodle

[jodilinbio]

NOTE: This section was written in 2005 and edited in 2024.

The year 2005 has just begun, and I’ve been through some very drastic changes in the last few years. We lost our big, beautiful house (not for reasons I once feared), and we’ve now lived in Klamath Falls, Oregon, for just over a year.

Although I’m not sure this is the ideal place for us, and even though we haven’t been here long, I guess you could say I somewhat prefer Oregon over Arizona—at least, I think I do. I don’t like the cold and snow of Oregon, but it certainly has its pros over Arizona. Before I explain how and why we ended up here, I must first cover the events between March 2002 and June 2004.

Most of 2002 was uneventful, though it was still filled with the usual stresses and problems. Things kept breaking, money remained tight, and our old neighbors continued to rule our lives.

Scott surprised me in early April 2003 by telling me I could start reporting once a month instead of twice.

The biggest surprise came on the 30th of that month when the phone rang at 6:30 in the morning. As soon as I saw Scott’s name on the Caller ID, my heart pounded with anxiety. My first thought was that the freeloading assholes had done something else to me. After everything they’d already put me through, I was constantly fearful and paranoid, wondering what false accusations they might concoct to keep me trapped in their web of hatred. I feared they would try something just as my probation was due to end to keep it going—but that wasn’t for another six months.

Or so I thought.

“Hello?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady when I picked up the phone.

“Hey, it’s Scott. Did you hear the news?”

“No. What news? What’s wrong?”

That’s when he told me nothing was wrong, and that he was shocked to receive a fax that morning from the judge (a different one than the one who had screwed me), saying I was now off probation. The state had opposed it, of course, but that was it. I was free! Free!!!

I jumped for joy all day long, running up and down the house, laughing and grinning like a madwoman. It was so unexpected. I had no reason to believe this would happen. No one had given me any breaks before, so I’d long since given up hope. But sometimes life really is full of surprises.

Although I immensely enjoyed my newfound freedom—after seven long years of being chained to these sick people—I was also a bit apprehensive. I felt like a sitting duck. Would the news of my early release, something they would surely be furious about, provoke any vengeful behavior? Fortunately, nothing happened during the rest of our time in Arizona, which was a little over a year after Scott’s call. So, if they were simply biding their time to look less obvious, I was spared from whatever they might have done.

I vowed never to let this long, frustrating ordeal stop me from speaking my mind in the future, and I did—when the next person burned me.

That next person was Teddy Bear, though she didn’t hurt me nearly as much as the freeloaders had.

At the very end of 2001, Mary wrote to tell me that Teddy Bear had been transferred to Madison because of too many rumors about her flirting with inmates. Chavez was the one who told Mary, and that’s when I first started to doubt Teddy Bear’s promises of us getting together. First off, if you really liked and missed someone, wouldn’t you bend the rules a little, even if it meant not quite waiting a year? After all, it’s not like anyone would have seen us together way out in the boonies.

I also wondered what she thought when she saw my year-after-release letter sent to Estrella, assuming she didn’t know that I knew about the transfer. Did she figure it would be forwarded to her, or did she just not care? Sure enough, she never responded to my letter, even though I sent it directly to Madison in May 2002, letting her know Mary had told me about her transfer.

I was devastated when she blew me off without so much as a simple explanation. I cried for four months straight and was even tempted to run back to Helen, but I knew Helen couldn’t change anything, and eventually, I’d get over her—and I did. In the end, I was glad Teddy Bear ignored my letter, knowing her presence might have put Tom in an awkward position, even though we were evolving into just good friends like most long-term couples.

Still, I was determined to give her a piece of my mind without letting past experiences stop me. So, just a few months after getting off probation, I sent her a letter. I wasn’t trying to get her fired or seek revenge. I just wanted her to know she played with my emotions, and that I wasn’t some object without feelings.

For reasons unknown to me, my psychic abilities intensified during our time in Maricopa. I was able to “influence” more than half the scratch tickets we bought, though they usually only won a few bucks each.

Tom was searching for an old pickup truck to have a backup vehicle and something to haul large items. He was looking for one made in the 80s, but in my visions, I saw a 70s truck in either white or gold. Sure enough, for $500, he found two dumpy Datsuns. One was a green ‘77, the other a white ‘79. He stripped the green one and used its parts to get the white one running, which took several months.

The first time our well went out was in late 2001. I predicted it would happen again two years later, and unfortunately, it did—just two weeks shy of the date.

Now, here’s how we ended up here. For years, I said that once we freed ourselves from the welfare bum’s grip, we’d plunge into a whole new long-term crisis—and we did. One that would alter our lives in a very big way.

In June 2003, Bank of America fired Tom for speaking out against bringing religion into the workplace. We were both frustrated, and still are, with how so many people mix religion, along with beliefs we consider hogwash, into almost everything and try to force it on others. Hey, not everyone is religious, but some people just don’t seem to understand that. Arizona, being a predominantly non-white Christian state, didn’t support his refusal to conform, so he was let go.

I found it unnerving, even scary, to know that someone I’d never met could turn our lives upside down so easily, leaving us with no way to fight back. People often fail to realize the long-term effects of vengeful behavior on others. As I had asked myself many times when the sick assholes from Phoenix had control over our lives: How could someone have such power and leave us so helpless?

My faith in God was shattered. I felt like some force had it in for us, pitting one person after another against us—people we were powerless to fight.

Tom started collecting unemployment while searching for a job that could cover our expenses. After two months with no luck, he had to settle for a minimum-wage job at a Nissan proving grounds in August. The only benefit was that it was close to home. Although they kept promising him benefits and a raise, he was forced to quit by late November and return to unemployment. It seemed pointless to work for the same amount he could collect by not working, and besides, we needed time to prep the house for sale once it became clear we were going to lose it.

As sad as I was to leave our spacious home, beautifully furnished and decorated, I was also relieved. We both were. Tom never liked the house, calling it a waste of space and not cozy. Plus, we had gone through so much trouble with it—leaky pipes, a broken hot water tank, well issues, loose dogs, and trash blowing onto our land. People in the area didn’t secure their trash well, and without proper trash services, the high winds scattered debris everywhere. The neighborhood was also building up fast. Three new houses appeared in front of our neighbors during our final months, and there were now three rental properties behind us with two more on the way. It was getting noisier, too.

Sometimes I wondered if something evil inhabited the land, or maybe even the house itself. Foul odors would appear for hours without explanation. I also slept worse there than I did in our Phoenix home. Between sonic booms, loud engines, and random knocking from either people or woodpeckers, I was lucky to get more than a few nights a week of undisturbed sleep.

We wanted to find a more secluded place with greater privacy. We realized we had bitten off more than we could chew with the Maricopa property and thought it would be best not to go for something as extravagant next time. We figured a wooded area would provide the privacy we wanted, which wasn’t possible in the flat open desert without money to plant trees and hedges.

We decided Oregon would be our best option with its mountainous, forested terrain. We won a 2.3-acre parcel of land on eBay from a man named Michael in Portland. The land was located in the Klamath Falls Forest Estate near the California border. Neither of us had ever been to Oregon, though Tom thought he might have visited relatives there as a child. I wasn’t thrilled about returning to a place with a cold, snowy climate but figured it might be okay now that I didn’t have to walk or ride a bike to school like I did as a kid—or run errands like I had to as an adult in Springfield.

I wondered if there was something wrong with Oregon since the population was relatively low. I assumed it was just because the weather was so cold and snowy in most parts, though Portland didn’t get as cold as Klamath Falls. It rained more there instead.

After Tom left the proving grounds, we went on a selling spree, selling old items on eBay and at local swap meets. He sold old computer equipment, and I sold collectible dolls I no longer wanted. The first time we sold stuff at a swap meet, we did well. The second time, not as much, but by then, it was so hot no one wanted to stay outside for long.

On December 28, 2004, I grew so fed up with the congestion my inhalers were causing that I placed one of my spells on myself—something I’d somehow mastered—and quit them altogether. After moving to Oregon, I lost most of the lung tightness I had and found myself breathing better than ever.

In February 2004, we got Blondie, the rat we still have. I thought no rat could compare to Little Buddy, but Blondie surpassed him by far! He’s the most loving, smart, and dog-like rat we’ve ever had. Not many rats will climb up your leg to see you after exploring for a while. He even jumps up on the bed by climbing the comforter.

In late April, we contacted a realtor who found us an investor to buy our house. Since we didn’t have time to sell it properly, we were forced to settle for a measly five grand. Huey, the buyer, understood our frustrations with the bank and how they were jerking us around and withholding information. We knew we couldn’t trust anything the bank said anyway, given how they falsified documents—something Tom had witnessed several times while working there.

Huey wanted to divide the 10-acre parcel into five 2-acre lots. We sold the place to him on April 27 and were given until June 12 to leave, which happened to be Huey’s birthday. He said to contact him if we needed more time.

We also won a 20-foot 1975 Midas RV for $1,500 on eBay, which we called Gert because it was so old and ugly. The plan was to live in that, along with any tents or small sheds we might build, until we could construct a dome house—a project we estimated would take two to three years. We also planned to install solar panels since our land was 1,500 feet from the nearest power lines. But as I learned over and over, life rarely goes according to plan. It seemed like every time we made a plan, we ended up doing something entirely different. More and more, I felt like we were just leaves blowing in the wind, destined to end up wherever fate took us.

During the next month and a half, we sold off most of our furniture. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get nearly what it was worth, but it was better than nothing. A Mexican family that owned a furniture store bought most of it, including our 1991 Ford Taurus.

The last few days in Arizona were hot, hectic, and filled with emotion. At one point, I stood in the middle of my empty office and cried, thinking of all the stories I’d written in that room, the journal entries, and the music I’d listened to. Then I remembered all the stress, the unhappy journal entries, and that made up for it—at least some of it anyway. Tom was excited to leave, and so was I, though I knew I would miss the house.

The move from Arizona to Oregon turned out to be harder than the move from Phoenix, even though we had far less stuff. This time, we had to cram everything into the RV, plus the truck towing it.

[navalcriminalimagines]

Can I request my favorite trope, there was only one bed, with Gibbs? Please! 🥰😘

Warnings: smut

Tags: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @madamsnape921 @specialagentastra

One bed

After a couple of years under Dwayne Pride’s command, you asked for your transfer. A personal loss made it hard to stay in New Orleans and Dwayne managed to get you to join the DC’s team.

You’ve been in Gibbs’s team for a few months only and you came in like a wrecking ball. They weren’t fond of having a new member to their team, but as the months go by, you managed to get them like to you. Plus, you were a really good Agent.

Gibbs kept giving a hard time though. Dwayne told him only good things about you, besides your stubbornness and how you can act first and think later.

So, when a case led to a ship, it surprised you that he asked you to pack your things. In a few hours, you were landing on a Navy ship.

You were welcomed - to say the least - by the chief of the boat. And he took you and Gibbs to the quarters where you’d be sleeping.

"Only one person agreed to let you take their quarters for the night. You may have to squeeze a bit." The man said as he opened the door to your room.

You or Gibbs didn’t say anything at first. Your boss only asked a few things about the case and your suspects.

"Squeeze a bit?" you exclaimed once the COB left the room. "It's a one person bed! And there's two of us!"

"Are you that repulse by the idea of sharing a bed with me?" Gibbs answered as he was unpacking your things.

"You could give me a young Harrison Ford, I'd still be annoyed." You sat on the bed, testing it. Not very comfortable.

"Young Harrison Ford? Isn't he attractive anymore?"

"Of course he is. Didn't know what you'd think if I said so."

You caught his small smirk. It wasn’t late so and Gibbs went different ways on the ship to investigate. When you came back to the quarters, Gibbs was on a call with Abby. You all caught up with one another and the case was moving forward.

“How do we do it?” You asked, as you were about to go to bed.

“There are not many options there, L/N.”

You sighed. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to sleep next to Gibbs, but that was weird. You changed on a small shorts and a tank top, while Gibbs was in his briefs and a t-shirt. You tried not to look.

You faxed yourself under the blanket, your back against the wall. You felt your heart racing as Gibbs joined you.

His body had never been this close to yours before. His scent was intoxicating, he was so warm you didn’t even need the blanket.

You were trapped between his body and the wall, you couldn’t even move. Neither could Gibbs to be honest. “If you keep receding, you’re going to enter the wall.”

“Don’t tell him you’re comfortable, Gibbs.”

“I’m glad I asked you to come. I’d have slept on the floor if this was DiNozzo.”

He didn’t give you time to say anything. “You’re hot.” He said. “Your body temperature I mean,”

“Didn’t need to specify.”

“Want me to think you’re hot?”

“Well—do you?”

He chuckled. “What if I do?” He turned his face to the right, and your noses were practically brushing. You could feel his breath on your lips. You were getting hotter.

“Is that why you keep me at arm length?”

“I’m scared I may not be able to control myself. It’s really hard not to kiss you—“

He couldn’t finish his sentence. Your lips crashed on his. He kissed you back, and you felt his hand grabbing your hips to pull you closer than you already were.

As the kiss deepened - all teeth and tongue - you got on top of him. His hands got under your top and you melted under his touch.

You could feel his growing erection against your center and you got wetter and wetter. You nipped his bottom lip and he growled. “You sure about this?” He asked.

“Since day one.” You quickly said before kissing his neck.

His hands grabbed your ass and squeezed. You started to grind against each other. And he grunted again, throwing his head back on the pillow. “You okay?” You asked, looking up from his chest.

“I don’t have any condoms.” He said.

“I’m clean and on birth control—but if you don’t want—“

This time, you were the one who didn’t have time to finish your sentence. That was the response he wanted. He took off your top and you did the same with his. Gibbs squeezed one of your breasts in his strong hand and put his mouth on the other. You moaned deeply. “Quiet Y/N.” He ordered. It was the first time he called you by your first name and it did something inside of you. Your name on his lips is amazing.

You slid your hand in his briefs, feeling his rock hard cock in your palm. Gibbs growled and nipped your hard nipple. “I need you now.” You whispered.

You both got rid of the rest of your clothes and Gibbs pinned you on the small bed. He rubbed the head of his cock against your pussy, feeling your wetness. He kissed you again as he entered only a few inches of his length and pulled away. You whined every time he left your insides until he finally bottomed out, stretching you open.

He started to thrust, deep and slow. “Fuck! You feel so good inside me, Gibbs.” You whispered in his ear. He buried his face in your neck, planting wet kisses. One hand scratched his scalp and the other his back.

“You’re so tight, sweetheart.” He moaned. “So wet for me.”

Gibbs quickened his pace, and his hand got between your bodies, rubbing your clit. You couldn’t control your cries, Gibbs had to catch them with his mouth. “Shhh,”

“I’m gonna cum.” You warned him and it made him go quicker.

He needed a lot of self control not to cum before you did. But when you cried his name against his skin, he chased his own relief and he shot his load deep inside you. “Fuck, Y/N!”

Even after he came, Gibbs kept fucking his cum in your cunt.

Sleeping in this small bed after that was less embarrassing, but it still wasn’t the most comfortable thing. You couldn’t get any closer than that.

[hotchley]

strawberry cheesecake

BAM! IT’S HERE!!! BEFORE MIDNIGHT AS WELL!! It was 23:14 when I hit publish on ao3 and I really do need to go to sleep, but it’s here, with some level of accuracy because I googled what happened when someone has an allergic reaction.

Finally, I, the pioneer of Aaron Hotchner’s strawberry allergy, has written the fic where he eats strawberry cheesecake at an FBI function and has a reaction. It got unexpectedly dark, but we’re going with it.

As usual, I have not proofread it, and I kinda need you to suspend all belief about how the FBI works/is run because the function kinda doesn’t make much sense and yeah... you’ll see what I mean when you read... I’m really hoping this doesn’t suck because you guys actually looked forward to it??

Trigger/Content Warnings; food, referenced child death (most recent case), alcohol consumption, anaphylactic shock/allergic reactions, child abuse, hospitals and I think that’s everything

Word Count: 7669 (it got really out of hand...)

read on ao3!

If there was one thing David Rossi hated more than local press giving unsubs ridiculous names because they believed it would make a good headline, it would be FBI functions. And not just any type of FBI function. The FBI function where the Behavioural Analysis Unit- which nobody had believed in- would be mentioned so frequently that it felt like they were on a case.

It was just his luck that one was being held on the same day that he was supposed to be going to the ballet with one of the lovely women that worked in the White-Collar unit. Because despite the rumours that went flying around about him and his dating habits, he was not going to take advantage of his position and make rookies or anyone else uncomfortable. The woman he was supposed to be meeting had approached him and asked if he’d liked to go.

Hotchner had been watching him, looking slightly scandalised as she had placed her hand on his tie, and so Rossi had said yes. He’d even leant in slightly and asked if she would have a problem with him giving her a kiss on the cheek. When she said that she wouldn't, and would actually quite like that, he did and Hotchner had fallen off his chair.

Rossi had smirked, the lady had laughed and Hotchner had hit his head trying to get back up, gone an even brighter red and made something up about dropping his pen and needing to grab it. Rossi’s date had snickered, whilst Rossi had just raised an eyebrow.

Hotchner had excused himself to the bathroom.

As he ran out of their area, closely followed by Anya- she’d slipped Rossi a piece of paper with her name and number, Erin Strauss had walked in, holding two envelopes.

Rossi didn’t need to be a profiler to know what was in there.

“No,” was the first thing he said.

“David,” Strauss warned.

“Erin,” he mocked.

Strauss sighed. “Look, I know you hate these things, but the entire bureau is founded on politics and people-pleasing. If you come to this, then there may be less questions about what exactly it is you do all day, apart from ogling the other agents.”

“I do not ogle. And I guess it’s too much to hope that the other invitation is for Anya, isn’t it?”

Strauss nodded. “It’s for Aaron. Do try and get him to come, it’ll give us all something pleasant to look at whilst we slowly die inside.”

Dave stared at her.

She rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m not saying that I want to ruin his marriage or sleep with him, I’m just saying he’s objectively attractive. And I don’t know why you look so surprised, Jason told me about the women that flirt with him. And that you started calling him pretty boy, which hasn’t exactly gone unnoticed.”

“Right.”

“Just make an effort to actually attend. And please get Agent Hotchner there too,” she said.

Dave just nodded.

Aaron had returned from the bathroom.

“Agent Hotchner. I hope Dave hasn’t been making you feel too awkward with all of his comments,” she said. It was clear that she was just trying to see whether any had been made.

Aaron’s cheeks flushed again. “Not at all ma’am,” he said, holding the door open for her. She nodded and left, but not before turning to Dave one last time as she gave him an extremely pointed glare. He made a face at her, which caused her to laugh.

When Hotch had sat back down again, Dave finally acknowledged him.

“That trip to the bathroom seemed rather urgent,” he joked.

“I- well, so,” Hotch stuttered.

Dave shook his head. “It’s fine. And it doesn’t look like that date will be happening anyways, so it’s not a big deal.”

“Wait why won’t it be happening? You both seemed… excited at the prospect of going.”

In response, Dave threw the second envelope at his head. Aaron’s reflexes weren’t fast enough, so it just bounced off and landed on the floor. As he bent down to pick it up, Dave began to understand why Erin and the other agents thought of him as being something pleasant to look at. As in, Aaron had pretty eyes. And his hair was constantly falling in his face, which was endearing.

“That envelope is why it won’t be happening.”

Aaron stared at him and then opened it. “Oh.” He seemed even less enthusiastic than Dave did about attending. 

“I thought you would have been thrilled at the thought of going. It’ll be like all those balls you went to when you were just a young boy growing up in the good old South Virginia," Dave said. He knew he was toeing the line.

Aaron's silence about his childhood revealed more than his words ever could.

"First of all, I didn't attend balls when I was a young boy. The only dance I ever went to was my prom, and that was only because Haley basically forced me to go. And South Virginia isn't that good, that's just a stereotype that people have because people live in fancy houses with white picket fences," Aaron snapped. It was uncharacteristically sharp.

"Sorry," Dave said. And he meant it.

Aaron's eyes widened. "Sir, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out at you. You've not done anything wrong. I just-"

"It's okay. Do you want to talk about it? There's no pressure, it's just if you wanted to. That seemed like quite an extreme reaction to something so trivial." Why was he so bad at this? He could charm any woman he wanted, yet the moment he tried to speak to Hotchner about anything other than work and Haley, he sounded like an idiot.

"I left prosecution because it was always more about politics than actually helping people get justice for the terrible things that had happened to them. And now it just feels like nothing has changed and time that could be spent stopping someone from destroying lives is just going to go on people-pleasing," Aaron confessed. He wouldn't meet Dave's eyes.

Dave wanted to pull him in for a hug, but he knew it would most likely not be well received. He also knew that wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't his place to push. Aaron felt things, more deeply than the rest of them, but he would never admit to anyone that there were certain cases that got under his skin.

Like the one they had just finished. A child wasn't going to be coming home, but the look on the mother's face when they informed her was not one of sorrow. It was one of relief. Aaron had asked to stay behind to speak to her for just one more moment. And when he returned, there was an anger written in the clench of his jaw that Dave had never seen before.

Jason had told everyone to give the kid space. Against his gut instinct, Dave had listened to him. Which he now very much regretted.

"Kid. We all have limits. Nobody can spend every hour of every day hunting down these guys. At the end of the day, we're all just human. I won't lie to you, it will be a lot of people-pleasing. However, it will also- if you let it- be a bit of fun. You're a good agent Hotchner. And an even better person. Let yourself breathe for once."

Aaron looked down. "Thanks Dave."

Dave just shrugged. It was only when Aaron left the room again did he let himself groan. Now he was going to have to pretend to enjoy himself at the function or else Hotchner would just be upset because of his ruined date.

Depending on how you looked at it, the members of the BAU were either lucky or unlucky when no cases turned up the morning of the event. Dave had been watching the fax machine intently, and Max had been looking through a suspicious number of case files the entire day. But in the end, there was nothing.

Which was how Dave found himself standing around, sipping a glass of champagne he thought tasted horrible, talking to strangers he couldn't care less about and silent seething at Hotch. He wasn't there yet, despite phoning Dave to say he would be there in half an hour about forty five minutes ago. 

The only reason he'd bothered to attend and not faked some form of emergency that would let him go on his date with Anya was because he wanted Hotch to have someone to keep him company and make him laugh as he suffered through conversations about being an ex-prosecutor and the change to the FBI.

He was looking round for a waiter so he could take yet another glass when Aaron appeared in the doorway, fiddling with his cuff links. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his hair was more ruffled than usual. As he entered, awkwardly greeting people and tripping over his own feet, Dave rolled his eyes.

How the kid had managed to pass all of his assessments and be the best shot in the entire building was still completely beyond him.

"Hi," Aaron greeted, a dopey grin on his face.

"It's lovely of you to join us," Dave remarked. He just couldn't help it. When Aaron's face fell slightly, he regretted it. He kept forgetting that Aaron took the things people said a bit too literally sometimes. Especially if it came from someone he looked up to.

"I'm sorry about your date being ruined," Hotch said. He was looking around at all the other people in their perfectly tailored suits and beautiful dresses. It made him- with his slightly too big shirt and undone bow tie- look even younger than he already was.

"Well barring any disasters, this should be over in time for me to make it. Anya said she could wait."

There was a slight silence, broken only by Dave rejecting what would have been his third glass of champagne and Aaron quickly accepting it. And then it became too much for him to bear.

"Kid, why is your tie undone?"

Hotch's eyes widened like he had only just realised. Rossi wouldn't have been surprised if that was true. For someone that was a profiler, he was quite oblivious sometimes. Not realising that if you took your vest off and then someone shot at you, you would suffer more than a few bruises, forgetting that his shirt collar wouldn't cover his entire neck, the list went on.

But this was something entirely different. Aaron Hotchner's tie was never undone.

Rossi raised an eyebrow when an entire minute passed without him explaining himself and the colour rose to his cheeks.

"Well, it took me a really long time to do it the first time and then Haley came into our room to grab her bag. And then she really likes it when I get all dressed up because I normally hate doing it- I mean I always hate it- so then she, you know and then I thought I had tied it properly but clearly I hadn't."

Rossi had never heard so many words spoken in a single breath. He did however, understand what the kid was trying to say. "Well at least one of us got to have some fun tonight," he joked.

"Is that why everyone's been staring at me?" Hotch asked, turning his back to Strauss. The woman simply raised an eyebrow, then raised her glass of champagne at Rossi, who glared at her, just because he could.

"Yes," he lied, because he was not about to be the one that explained to him that people were staring at him because he had been deemed the eye candy of the Quantico and therefore, everyone loved him.

"You're lying to me. I can tell! What's the truth?"

Not for the first time, Dave wondered what he'd been thinking when he saw the lead agent in Seattle run after a suspect without any sort of back-up, slip in poison ivy and then carry on running, even though everyone else had realised it wasn't the killer they were after and decided that he would make them into a profiler.

"Are you sure you want to know?" he said, making his voice as serious as he could in a vain attempt to make him change his mind.

"Yes. Because it's nowhere near as bad or as serious as you're making it out to be."

Damn him.

"Fine. But I did warn you. It's because you are- objectively- attractive. And apparently, your slightly repressed accent makes everyone swoon. Also Strauss thinks you have a nice ass," Dave said, completely nonchalant.

Hotch's cheeks went brighter than ever before and he spun round, searching for Erin. She had rather coincidentally turned her back to the two of them as she engaged in a very serious conversation with another Section Chief.

"I- I don't even want to know how you know that," Aaron muttered, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets, looking like a petulant child.

"Oh I thought you would love it! You're basically a Southern Belle."

Dave was lucky he was immune to the Hotchner Glare as it came out in full force. "Don't call me a Southern Belle. Do you even know what that is?"

Dave shrugged. "I'm sure I could guess. Look, I'm sorry, I'm just being bitter. Come here."

Aaron regarded him suspiciously. "Why?"

If it had been anyone else, Dave would have told them it was a surprise. Or that they wouldn't know until they stepped forward. But Aaron wasn't anyone else, and Dave needed to remember that. There were certain things he just couldn't say.

"We're going to be here for a while. You can't just stand there with your bow tie undone."

Aaron narrowed his eyes, but stepped forward. When Dave reached forward and grabbed the ends, he tensed. To anyone else, it was too minute a gesture to be noticed. But Dave had spent more time reading people than he had with his second wife. He knew why Aaron was tensing. It was why he took as little time as possible tying it neatly, even though he wanted to take forever.

So that the other agents wouldn't be staring and making him self conscious. That was his only reason. It had nothing to do with the attachment he could feel himself forming, and it most definitely was not linked to his desire to help Aaron associate touch with love and comfort.

When he stepped away, Aaron seemed to relax slightly. "Thank you," he said, ever the gentleman.

Dave just shrugged. "You look better with it done properly. Speaking of, where is Haley?"

"What does Haley have to do with me looking better with my tie done properly?"

"Your tie wasn't done properly because of Haley. Come on Hotch, I thought you were meant to be an ex-prosecutor. And we both know the two of you are inseparable."

Hotch flushed, the way he always did when someone mentioned just how in love with Haley he was. Dave found it adorable, even though he hated himself for that. But he knew how important Haley must have been to Aaron's survival, so even though he wasn't her biggest fan, he begrudgingly respected her.

"She's out with her sister," he mumbled. "They made plans ages ago and they've been so excited for it that I couldn't ask her to cancel just to keep me company."

"That's kind of you. Most men probably wouldn't let their spouse just leave them when there's an event like this going on," Dave said. 

"If you want to go on your date I'll cover for you when Strauss comes calling," Aaron said, rather suddenly. 

Rossi frowned at him. Aaron had seemed excited at the thought of spending the evening together when he first arrived and for him to suddenly seem so willing to spend it apart, just so Dave could go on a date with someone who he was sure was lovely but he couldn't envision a future with, was more than a little unusual.

"Like I said, barring any disasters, I should be able to make it. Are you annoyed at me for bringing up Haley? I know that we had a bit of a rocky start when we first met, but I do respect her. And I like to think she appreciates the fact that I keep you alive."

"I'm not annoyed at you for bringing up Haley," Hotch said, huffing slightly. He was fiddling with his cufflinks. Dave wanted to comment on his behaviour, but did not want to be reminded of the no-profiling rule- which Hotch himself had implemented.

"Well you're annoyed at me for something and I would appreciate you telling me, instead of just bottling it up until we're on a case and something else happens."

"Dave, I am fine," Hotch snapped, tone mitigating his words.

"I'm sure you are," Rossi snapped back, turning away. Strauss was frowning at the two of them and he rolled his eyes. Screw etiquette, and screw the people that thought they were being unprofessional and causing a scene.

They were, but he wasn't going to admit it.

"Do you really think I would forbid my wife to do something as harmless as going out with her sister the same night that I have to attend quite possibly the most boring function known to man?" Hotch suddenly asked, tone laced with malice.

"Of course not Hotshot. I was joking," he said, softening his tone as the problem clicked.

"I wouldn't. I'm not her keeper. And I'm not-" he caught himself, shaking his head. "I just wouldn't."

"I know. I'm sorry, it was wrong of me to joke that like that," Dave said, catching Erin's eye. She nodded, clearly pleased that he had resolved something without resorting to violence or shouting.

He didn't acknowledge her. He wasn't an idiot, and he knew that resorting to violence or even raising his voice would lead to some sort of shut down from Aaron. And he did want the kid to enjoy himself, even though he did agree that playing politics whilst people were dying was stupid.

"The decoration is nice," Aaron commented, a few minutes later.

"It is, isn't it? It reminds me of this opera house I took Carolyn to, for one of our anniversaries. Actually, that opera house seems like the sort of place Haley would enjoy going to. I'll give you the name, you can surprise her," Dave said, deciding he would take the win and prod later.

Aaron choked on his champagne, colour rising to his cheeks when he realised people were watching him cough. He cleared his throat once more before turning to Dave, making absolutely no attempt to hide his shit-eating grin.

"What?" Dave said, hating himself for taking the bait.

"I have to tell Haley that you think she's the kind of person that would go and enjoy herself at an opera house."

"Is she not?"

"Dave, for our last anniversary, I took her to the local theatre because they were putting on Pirates of Penzance because that's what got us together. And the year before that, we both thought it was a week later than what it was, so her sister ended up taking us out."

Maybe Dave wasn't as good a profiler as he thought he was, because in his mind, he had a very specific image of Haley, and none of what had just been said fit with that image. He supposed that was what he got for making assumptions, having never actually met her in person.

"Oh, that's certainly interesting," Dave said.

"She's a very interesting woman," Hotch said, smiling so wide it physically hurt Rossi to see because he knew how the BAU burnt out love, and the strain it put on marriages. Hell, he had lived through it.

"Hold onto her Aaron," he said, without thinking.

Aaron frowned. "Of course I will. Dave, you've been acting weird the whole time we've been here. Are you okay?"

In all honesty, he wasn't. He always said he wasn't like Jason. He had no interest in being a mentor, or finding the next generation of profilers. That was never what he wanted. But there was something about Aaron, and his too large suits and his floppy hair that made him feel things he wasn't ready to confront. 

But if he said any of that, Aaron would probably run for the hills. Hell, he probably would too.

"Of course I am. Now loosen up and enjoy yourself. I can tell you want to," he said, smiling when Aaron's eyes sparkled.

"What do you think Strauss would do if I told her I know what she thinks about my butt?" he asked, the smirk on his face far too mischevious for anyone's comfort.

"You can find out now," Dave said, nodding as Strauss approached them.

"Dave. Aaron, you look very handsome," Erin said, looking him up and down once.

Whatever had possessed Aaron just a few moments before had clearly vanished, as his cheeks flushed and he awkwardly stuttered out something that nobody, not even the person speaking, understood.

"Thank you… Ma'am. You look very nice too," he eventually managed to say, sipping his champagne to distract from his failure at speaking.

"Is there something you need?" Dave said.

"No, just making sure you weren't too bitter about your date being cancelled. And also making sure that Agent Hotchner would save both of us a dance after dinner. I'm sure everyone from Quantico wants to know whether or not our Southern Belle can dance," Erin said.

Hotch downed the rest of his glass. "I'm not- it doesn't work like- I don't- I really don't think- fine. One dance. But that is it, and none of you are allowed to laugh if I mess up, because I'm not the dancer. Haley is."

Haley seemed to be a lot of things that Aaron wasn't. Maybe it was part of the reason they were so well-matched.

Erin nodded, smiled at them both, then went to mingle with different people.

"See, everyone thinks you're a Southern Belle!" Dave said, smirking.

"But why? I've done everything I can to repress my accent, and I have done since the day I started law school," Aaron said. He did not whine, because grown men that worked for the FBI do not whine. But if they did, his sentence would have definitely sounded like whining.

"I know, and most days, it's only the slightest thing. I don't really know how everyone worked it out, but they did. And that's fine!"

Hotch pouted.

"Look, if you really don't want to dance, you could always land yourself in the hospital with some kind of injury. I could take you, sneak off to my date, Haley would affectionately roll her eyes and then give you all the kisses you want…" Rossi said, smirking.

"No it's fine. I'm not going to fake an injury, that would be so embarrassing," Hotch replied.

"Then stop pouting, you look like a child. And go mingle with someone else, if you spend the entire time before dinner with me, what will people say?"

Hotch snorted, then schooled his face into a look of neutrality, before nodding and going off to speak to one of the other higher-ups. Rossi noticed, rather fondly, that it was the one person that actually cared about the people involved in their cases, as opposed to just the politics and the prestige.

About five minutes later, he realised he missed the kid. And then he started to panic. Because he didn't get attached to people. Especially not new agents that had too much hope and faith. Not new agents that were that nice. He didn't. He couldn't.

Him and Aaron ended up seated next to each other at the banquet table, because there genuinely was no other way to describe it. It was long, and grand, and every platter was filled to the brim with food of so many different types. Dave honestly could not remember what the function was actually for, but a part of him was tempted to comment that if part of the budget for these events went to the BAU then they'd probably be able to properly fund the unit.

He refrained, if only because Aaron looked so excited at the prospect of finally eating something. Dave had learnt long ago that you had to eat before you came to these events because people loved talking and more often than not, you'd drink the champagne just to get through their conversations, but clearly Aaron hadn't quite learnt that lesson yet.

"So where is that wife of yours?" Max asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Hotch tensed. "Out with her sister. Why?"

"I've only seen you smile like you are now when Haley is around, but I don't see her anywhere," he said, in that annoyingly patronising tone of his.

Hotch relaxed, but flushed. "I-oh. Yeah. She's out with Jessica because they had made plans a while back and they don't really see each other as much anymore because Haley's busy teaching and doing the school production, and Jessica's getting her Masters so," he trailed off.

"I think it's lovely, how much you love Haley," Erin added.

Dave snorted into his glass, not at the fact that Aaron looked so uncomfortable but at the fact that these people hunted down serial killers and criminals for a living, and yet the thing they got the most joy from was teasing a kid about his marriage.

"Right, that's enough being mean to the newbie. What about dessert?" Dave said.

Aaron flashed him a grateful smile. He just shook his head. He remembered when he’d turned up to his first event, Carolyn in awe of all the decorations and outfits, and everyone else had been ruthless with their teasing. He wasn’t about to let Hotch suffer that same fate. He’d probably faint with embarrassment.

Erin laughed at the two of them, and Jason smiled at Dave’s defensiveness over his new protege. One day. One day Jason would get Dave to admit that the way he felt towards Aaron was nothing short of paternal. Max just rolled his eyes, but the waiters came to clear their plates before he could make another biting comment.

Aaron excused himself to the bathroom, and then the dessert was brought out. Dave, being the saint he was, switched his and Aaron’s plates because he wasn’t getting younger and he knew he was meant to be cutting down on his sugar. So if Aaron had the bigger slice, then it would do them both a favour. And it had a whole strawberry to decorate it, not just the jam.

Erin was giving him one of his looks when their eyes met and he resisted the urge to stick his tongue out. He knew what that look meant. It meant Erin had an opinion on whatever he had just done, and it was one he wouldn’t like or approve of. 

“Look, it’s strawberry cheesecake!” Dave exclaimed, poking his fork in Aaron’s direction in an attempt to distract from Erin’s gaze.

The smile that had been plastered across Aaron’s face since they’d been sat down- and Dave really didn’t want to think that it was as a result of Erin’s comment about his butt, although it was the only thing that made sense- faded, and the colour seemed to drain from his face.

“What is it? Come on, you must love dessert, you’re the kid,” Dave said, slightly teasing.

Aaron opened his mouth, seemingly contemplating saying something that he thought would ruin the entire evening, but then he closed it and gave Dave a forced, tight-lipped smile. He almost pushed, but they had been having fun, so he just grinned back and urged Hotch to eat it.

If anyone noticed him wince as he swallowed each bite, or the fear that flickered in his eyes when he ate the strawberry, they didn’t comment. For that, he was grateful. He still had no idea what he was meant to do when the inevitable happened, but so long as nobody realised, he had time to work it out. All he needed was time.

He did really miss Haley though. If Haley had been there, she would have said something on his behalf because she would have known there was no way he would do it himself. It was too late to turn back now though. There was a tiny part of him that secretly hoped he’d outgrown it, but the moment he felt stomach cramps forming, he knew that was wishful thinking. Still, if he was lucky, nothing too serious would happen until he got home. Haley would panic, take him to the hospital and everything would be fine. Nobody else would have to know.

Or so he thought.

He’d gotten so good at not eating strawberries that he had completely forgotten just how badly, and quickly, the effects would hit him. He had forgotten just how allergic he was to the fruit. And he was aware of how stupid that sounded, but it was just one of those things.

Dave was staring. So was Erin. He cleared his throat, awkwardly looking down. When the waiters came out once more to clear the plates away, he smiled at them, hoping his cheeks didn’t seem flushed, or his palms too clammy.

“You promised me a dance,” Dave said, nudging his elbow.

“I did, didn’t I?” Aaron responded, hoping his voice didn’t sound too strained. When he stood up, his vision went slightly fuzzy and unfocused, and he found himself grabbing the table in order to stay upright.

He was going to be fine. All he had to do was make it through another few hours, and there was always a delay between his vision blurring and breathing becoming difficult, so with just a bit of luck, he could still do it.

Luck had never really been on his side.

Erin was standing, talking to Dave, and he couldn’t remember what he was meant to be doing, or why nobody was dancing. Maybe they had just been teasing him when they said he owed them both a dance. Or maybe they were waiting for him to do something. Either way, the confusion wasn’t helping him function.

“Kid, what’s happened to your hand?” Dave said suddenly. It reminded him of that time his cousin had eaten shellfish, but that didn’t make sense. There was no way Aaron had hit adulthood without realising he was allergic to the things they’d eaten.

Aaron stared at him.

Erin grabbed his wrist, the look that crossed her face one of fear and panic. “Aaron.” 

It couldn’t be. There was no way the ugly red rash forming on his hand as they watched him was being caused by an allergic reaction. It just couldn’t, because Hotchner may have been stupid and irresponsible, but there was no way he was that irresponsible.

He cleared his throat.

“Now would be a terrible time to tell you that I’m allergic to strawberries, wouldn’t it?” he rapsed.

Dave’s jaw dropped. “You’re what?”

Aaron Hotchner’s timing had never been good. It had actually always been abysmal. He was born early, in both senses of the word, met the girl he would end up marrying on the last day before a three month holiday which she would spend out of the state, and was generally just not smooth with the way he did things.

So as if on cue, he fell to the ground, completely losing consciousness. Clearly the delay between his vision growing blurry and his breathing becoming shallow was not the large space of time he thought it would be.

“Aaron!” Dave yelled.

Erin dropped to her knees by her side. “Dave, phone for an ambulance. Now.” 

Dave blinked a few times, then realised what she was asking him to do and ran out the room to find the phone. When he was patched through, he realised he had no idea if what Aaron was experiencing was just a reaction, or anaphylactic shock, but he just explained himself as best he could, only relaxing when they said it was likely everything would be fine and they would be there soon.

He re-entered the room only two minutes later, and Aaron was still in the recovery position.

“The idiot doesn’t have an EpiPen on him. I don’t know why, but he doesn’t, so now we literally have to wait until the ambulance gets here and hope for the best,” Erin said, some strange mix of angry and terrified.

“He doesn’t have his- what kind of- why not?” Dave said.

When he looked around the room, he realised it was suddenly startlingly empty. It was just Erin, him, Aaron- who still hadn’t come around- and Jason. Max was suspiciously absent. He figured that was for the best. If anyone would make the situation more awkward than it already was, it’d be Max.

“He managed to get everyone to go downstairs, then said he would stay with them. We figured the less people around when he woke up, the less embarrassed Hotchner would be,” Jason explained. “And on that note, I’ll go explain to the paramedics what happened,” he added, as sirens filled the air.

“Dave, when did our lives suddenly become co-parenting this mess of an adult if only so he gets home safe to Haley?” Erin suddenly asked.

“We don’t co-parent him. No. We just… look after him the way we would do with any other new agent that was his age,” Dave said, although he wasn’t even convincing himself. Erin didn’t respond, just looked at him with that glint in her eye.

He didn’t get the chance to carry on with his argument because Jason entered with the paramedics, and him and Erin moved away. It seemed like they had already been informed that Aaron didn’t have an EpiPen on him, because the first thing they did was inject him. There was one terrifying moment, in which Erin grabbed his wrist, where Dave thought they were too late, but they weren’t. 

Aaron opened his eyes, obviously disoriented and immediately after lifting his head, let it hit the floor again. He seemed far too pale, but nothing gave the impression that he was going to be sick, so Dave relaxed. When he and Erin were finally able to go over, Aaron was almost done answering their questions, some of the colour returning to his face in the form of flushed cheeks.

If he was capable of embarrassment, then everything was going to be fine.

“We’re going to need to take him to the hospital for observation and to make sure he doesn’t have a secondary reaction, but one of you is welcome to come. In fact, it would be preferred, wouldn’t it Aaron?” one of the paramedics said.

Aaron nodded, not quite meeting anyone’s eyes.

“Dave, you should go. Aaron, I don’t want to see you in the office until you’ve been cleared both by the doctors and by Haley to return. Do you understand me?” Erin chastised, sound every bit the mother Aaron had never had.

He nodded miserably, closing his eyes, and for a few moments, Dave felt terrible for him because so many pieces seemed to be falling into place now. And then he remembered that the whole thing had been caused by Aaron not saying he was allergic. He still felt terrible, but he also wondered what the hell he was meant to say to Haley.

“Come on kiddo,” he said as gently as he could, helping Aaron to his feet and into the elevator.

When he was safely sat in the ambulance, and they were well on their way to the hospital, he raised an eyebrow at Aaron who pulled a face.

“Don’t,” he protested weakly.

“So you’re allergic to strawberries,” Dave said. “How long have you been sitting on that piece of information for?”

“I’ve known since I was four and ended up in the hospital after I went strawberry picking with my mother and ate one of them.”

“Aaron, nobody was going to be offended. You could have just said something, it would have been okay. Really, you can’t judge someone just because they have an allergy, and everyone would have just moved on. You didn’t need to eat it.”

Aaron swallowed. “When I was eight, my father bought strawberry tarts for my mother and I, because he knew she had friends round and he wanted to seem like a dutiful husband. He didn’t- she’d kept the first time a secret from him because he’d been out of town. And when she tried to tell him, he said I was being difficult, then he made me eat it whilst she told her friends everything was fine. I only survived because she snuck in with my EpiPen.”

“Oh kid,” Dave said, chilled to the bone.

He shook his head. “I knew, realistically, that nobody would say anything, but I just couldn’t shake the memory of being told that if I was going to waste food, then I didn’t deserve it.”

“Aaron, that’s not-”

“I know that. Now at least. Thanks for not reacting weirdly. Or thinking less of me.”

“Agent Hotchner- are you still esquire, oh it doesn’t matter, esquire- nothing would ever make me think less of you. Especially not this. It wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault, and I know it’s easy for me to see, but I need you to know that.”

Aaron gave him a slight smile, eyes watering. “Thank you Dave.”

“I do have one question though. Where the fuck was your EpiPen?”

He made a sound, one that Dave was not going to dignify by actually naming in his head.

“That didn’t sound like an answer young man,” he teased.

Aaron sighed. “It- okay. My blazer pockets weren’t big enough to fit it, and I figured strawberries isn’t exactly a common thing, so it would be fine if I left it in the car, but then I didn’t want to say anything, and then I passed out before I could- oh.”

“What?”

“Did everyone see me collapse?”

Dave considered lying, but Aaron had bared his soul to him. He owed him this small piece of honesty. “Yes, but they also witnessed me running like a headless chicken to get to the phone and Erin completely freaking out, so it’s all okay. I promise.”

Aaron nodded, not fully convinced. “Thank you. For caring.”

And one day, Dave would teach him that caring was what people did for each other. That it wasn’t something he had to earn, or something that would be snatched away at the smallest transgression. He would teach him that the love he had always deserved but never been shown was going to come from more than just Haley. It was going to come from every single good person he knew.

But in that moment, he just leant over and ruffled his hair. And maybe the gesture was paternal, but he could live with that.

“Mrs Hotchner’s been waiting for you all to arrive,” the receptionist said the moment they came through the doors. Aaron relaxed at the mention of his wife.

“You can send her in as soon as we go in. He’s been treated, we’re just keeping him for observation,” the paramedic said. The receptionist nodded and turned to one of their colleagues, who immediately got up.

Dave hung around as they got him situated, wondering when would be an appropriate time to leave. He didn’t want to step on Haley’s toes, or make her feel like she wasn’t trusted, but he also didn’t really want to leave either of them. Not if the real timeline matched the one he’d created in his head. She would have just been a child too, but children always believed that they needed to save everyone and anything less was a failure. He didn’t know how to say that their job was to be a child, and it was on the adults to keep them safe without patronising the two of them.

So he sat instead, keeping Aaron company until he was no longer needed.

Haley came rushing in the moment she was allowed to, her eyes slightly red. They must have told her how severe the situation was, and Dave felt guilty for making her panic so much, when Aaron was doing much better already.

“Baby, they told me what happened. How are you feeling? Is your heartbeat erratic? Is there anything you need?” she asked, not even acknowledging Dave. He wasn’t offended though. The love Haley had for her husband was the most fierce thing he’d witnessed, and now he understood. She’d spent her entire life defending him and the love she had for him.

He shook his head, then grinned at her. “Kiss me?” he asked, and for a moment, he was just a normal man, so in love with his wife it physically hurt to witness.

“I shouldn’t- me and Jess had strawberry margaritas before we got the phone call. She’s coming round tomorrow to check on you herself by the way,” Haley said, brushing his hair off his head with a smile.

Aaron nodded. “I’d expect nothing less. Oh Haley, this is Dave. And Dave, this is Haley.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Dave said. 

“You too. So, what happened? Because you told me it was just a function, and then when I got home, there was a message from the hospital that you were being brought in for anaphylactic shock which doesn’t make any sense because you don’t eat strawberries anymore!” Haley said.

Aaron had the decency to look away. “I didn’t want to cause a scene so I ate this slice of strawberry cheesecake. And I thought it would be fine- well not fine, don’t look at me like that. I thought I’d be able to last till I got home. I’m sorry.”

“Baby, I’m not angry, don’t worry,” Haley said, taking his hand. “Just do what the doctors say, okay? And please don’t eat strawberries anymore just to be polite.”

“I’m afraid I may have made it worse,” Dave confessed, needing them to know, even though it had not been intentional, by any stretch of the imagination.

“What do you mean? How?” Haley asked. Aaron lifted his arm enough to signal that he had the same question.

“I switched our plates when they got given to us so Aaron had the bigger slice. It also had a whole strawberry on it, instead of just half a slice. Maybe if I hadn’t done that, his reaction would have been less severe. I’m sorry.”

Haley, in spite of, or maybe because of that single comment, started laughing. Aaron just watched her laugh with a smile on his face like he had never seen something so beautiful, and he probably never had. Dave watched them, confusion across his features.

“I’m sorry. It’s not funny. It’s just- Dave you have nothing to apologise for. He was always going to have a reaction. And given that he didn’t even have his EpiPen-”

“It was in the car,” Aaron said, not quite whining but definitely getting close.

“Didn’t have his EpiPen,” Haley said, like Aaron hadn’t even spoken, “it was probably always going to end like this. I’m just laughing because you sound like such a parent. Like switching slices is something my dad did for me and Jess when we were little. It’s cute.”

Aaron looked to Dave, fearful and hopeful all at once.

“What can I say? Erin and I need to make sure someone keeps an eye on him,” he said. There were a lot of things in his life he wasn’t proud of. There were lots of mistakes he had made. But this? Being considered Aaron’s parent? It would never be one of them.

Aaron smiled at him, the light in his eyes returning. Haley nodded her approval. When the nurse came in a few minutes later to check Aaron’s vitals, the silence felt comfortable and natural, as though they had already become attuned to the others’ needs.

“Are you two going to be okay?” Dave asked. Someone needed to tell Erin that he was okay, and he really wanted to go to bed. He realised that he hadn’t even considered trying to salvage his date with Anya. He supposed they could always reschedule. Besides, Aaron was more important now.

Haley nodded. “Yeah, I’ll drive us home, make sure he takes a bath and have him back and safe with you on Monday, don’t worry.”

Dave stood up and started heading towards the door. “Oh don’t worry too much about rushing back to us. I’m sure we’ll survive. His cute butt will be missed, but we’ll make it through.”

Haley snorted. “Aaron didn’t I say that there was no way people hadn’t noticed?”

Aaron did not reply, but he did glare at both of them.

Dave smiled. Just before he left, he hesitated for a moment, wondering whether or not it was the time and the place. But he just couldn’t resist. “So are there any other allergies we need to be aware of? Shellfish, pollen, nuts? Pretty ladies that want you to call them back?”

“Dave!” Aaron said, and this time it was definitely a whine.

He just smiled, leaving Aaron and Haley in the hospital room. Had it been a normal event? No. But he wouldn’t trade the night for anything in the world. After all, he had just found a whole new family. And he couldn’t wait for Haley to meet Erin. The two of them would definitely cause Hotcher a whole new level of embarrassment.

It was going to be the messiest and most random family to exist, but a family nonetheless.

[amor-immortalem]

Can I Stay Up Here With You Forever ch. 15

Previous

Taglist: @mediocredetective @it-hurts-when-i-blink @ima-simp-uwu @luckyauthorlampknight

Once the words left Milli’s mouth, Arella found herself on edge. She tensed up, fear showing in her green eyes as she tried to scoot away further onto the examination table only to be stopped by Mammon.

“It’s okay, babe. We’re not gonna hurt either of ya.” He whispered in her ear as he hopped up on the table behind her.

“There’s no need to worry, Arella.” Milli starts to roll Arella’s shirt up to expose her midsection. “We’re just putting a barrier between your soul and the baby. If we don’t do this, you will die.”

Slowly, the green-eyed nodded, relaxing back into Mammon’s chest as his demon for manifested.

“I-It’s not going to hurt, is it?” Arella asked.

Milli shook her head. “Once this is over, I’m sure you feel much better.” She gave the young woman a smile. “Mammon, hands on her stomach.”

The demon nods and did as instructed. Milli places her hands over his, murmuring an incantation in Latin which was echoed by Mammon. Arella can only watch as golden lines begin to form and dance across her skin forming various patterns all culminating in the formation of one of Mammon’s most commonly used sigils. Once the pair had finished, the lines faded from her belly, sinking into the skin.

Arella blinked. The overwhelming feeling a fatigue had dulled until it was hardly noticeable. Was all of that due to the draining of her soul? It felt like a weight was lifted off of her.

“’Rella? How do you feel?” The demon brings his wings up to wrap around her.

“Better... Much better.” She smiled as she leaned her head back against his shoulder. “Thank you both.”

“Don’t worry about it,” The witch says as she leans forward and removes the seal on her magic. “I’ll be placing you on mandatory bedrest for the rest of your pregnancy- or at least that’s what I’ll be faxing to your boss. You’ll need to be with Mammon all day and you can’t very well do that if you spend eight hours a day at least at work. You don’t really need to stay in bed though. And if anything- and I mean anything, Arella- doesn't feel right, I want you to call me right away. I don’t want to be hearing that something’s wrong through Solomon next time.”

Arella nods at that. “Right, yes ma’am.”

“Good. You two are free to go now.” Milli says as she ushers them out. “Keep out of trouble,”

The pair wave her off before the demon literally sweeps Arella off her feet and takes off into the air, flying them back home.

“Mammon! Wait the normal humans-”

“Don’t worry ‘bout ‘em. I’m usin’ a form of perception blocking. They can’t see a thing.” He smiles.

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

After a nerve-wracking flight home, Arella was still shaking as she buries her face in her mate’s chest. She knew he would never dream of dropping her while they were in the air, but Arella as always had a fear of heights and falling to begin with- Mammon's erratic way of flying never helped.

“Sorry, Treasure,” Mammon smiles apologetically as he peppers kisses across her cheeks. “I forget how much that really scares ya...”

“Just don’t do it again, please. The fright might actually send me into preterm labor.”

He nods as he runs his fingers through her hair. “Ya know, I never realized how long yer hair has really gotten... Are ya gonna cut it soon?”

“I was going to wait until after the baby. Would you rather me do it before though?”

“No, I don’t mind it so it’s up ta you.” He hums. “It’s a nice change. Ya look really pretty with long hair.”

“Maybe I should just keep it this way then,” The human hums as she seems to relax a little more into the white-haired demon.  “So, yesterday we were going to talk about baby names? Since we’ve got the time, why don’t we start on that?”

He nods as makes himself more comfortable. “We could. Were there any you were thinking about specifically?”

“I had a few,” She hummed, “But isn’t it customary among nobility in the Devildom for the father to choose without the mother’s input.”

“Yeah, ya ain’t wrong but I didn’t really like that custom ta begin with... here tell ya what, why don’t ya list off the names you like the most and I’ll pick from that. Deal?”

“Deal,” She smiled.

“So...?” He waited patiently for her to start giving him the list of names.

“Oh right, hmm... So for names, I had a few... in no particular order, it was Adin, Arlen, Carthair, Owein, Manus, Ashur, Xenres...”

As Mammon listens to Arella list of name after name, he thought about how much she must’ve been really thinking about this. It’s when Arella comes to what he assumes to be the last that he hears it- the one name he liked above all the others.

“Stop,” The Avatar of Greed takes a hold of her hand, “That last one, the name Cyrus- I really like that one. It’s Persian in origin- meaning sun.” Arella nods as he smiles. “It’s perfect.”

“It almost feels too modern in a way,” She laughed softly, “That was probably one of the reasons I liked it so much.”

“Well, he would’ve needed a more modern name anyway if he was going to raised here in the mortal realm. I think he would have been teased otherwise.”

“Yeah, you’re right now that I think more about it.” She sighed as she began to fiddle with the straps of his jacket. “Are you going to stay like this indefinitely?”

“Yeah, are you bothered by it?”

“Mmm no.” she hummed. “I was just curious.” She moved to get up but Mammon stops her.

“Why’re ya gettin' up like that? Stay here and cuddle.”

“I wasn’t leaving, but I thought maybe we should at least move to a more comfortable position for your wings. I don’t want them to start hurting because you’ve been laying on them.”

“’s fine, baby. They’re gonna be fine. Now, get down here and gimme a kiss.” he smiles as he traces her cheek with his thumb. “My beautiful human,”

“You’re incredibly cuddly today since we got home from Milli’s,” Arella laughs as she leans down to place a kiss to his cheek, “Even more so than usual.”

“Have I? I didn’t really notice...” Mammon hums. “Maybe it's just the circumstances.”

“May-” her breath hitches as she feels an especially hard kick as she groans. “Cyrus is awake and he’s not happy about the barrier.”

“Yeah, I can feel it. Here sit on the couch, lemme talk to him.” The Avatar of Greed sits up and shifts her off of him before kneeling in front of her. “Hey lil’ man, ya gotta stop this. Yer gonna end up really hurtin’ yer mama. Her body isn’t made to withstand kicks like yer’s.” As he speaks, he gently rubs the side of her tummy. “I know yer probly scared by the barrier that’s cuttin’ ya off, but yer gonna be okay, so don’t worry about nothin’, ‘kay, Buddy?” As the movements came to stop, Mammon leaned forward and pressed a kiss to where Cyrus’ head should be. “I love you.”

After a moment of no movement, Mammon pulled away looking up to his mate.

“He should be good for now.” He smiled as he rejoined her on the couch, “It’s gettin' ta be about time for dinner. Ya want me ta make us something?”

“Let’s just get take away or something. You decide. I don’t care what we have just as long as it’s spicy.”

“How ‘bout Thai food then? I could go for something spicey too.”

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

Next

[thoushallnotfall]

God Bless the Children of the Beast - Part 13

Previous // Masterlist

Pairing: The Dirt!Tommy Lee x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Notes: Sorry this took a minute to get out guys; it’s been a busy week! 

God so much happens in this update. We literally jump through like 3 years. 👀

Okay, so I'm changing some history here. (I'm mean I've already done that because, well, the movie did and that's what I'm following; but we're doing it again) I know Thaler took over after Doc, but since they cut him from the movie and made it kind of look like Nikki just sort of ran things, that's the angle I'm going with. 👍 Like I've literally been planning this from the get-go so I'm not changing it now.

Warnings: None

1990

A lot had happened in the last year.

Rehab had been a success for you and the boys, and you all had managed to stay sober through the recording of Dr. Feelgood–Motley Crue’s first number one album. Nikki had surprised you all and gotten married; and while Brandi seems like a genuinely nice girl, you were just glad to finally see your brother happy and committed to someone for a change. 

Still, not everything was going so well. 

You were back out on the road touring for the new album, and the band was feeling the strain. They had never toured without booze and drugs before, and it was clearly getting to them. Not only that, there was trouble at home for Vince and Tommy, and neither of the were handling it well.

Normally, they'd party their frustrations away–get drunk, do some drugs, then find some chicks to forget their wives with for a little while–but without that outlet to fall back on, they had to find other ways to cope. Vince took it out on his bandmates–usually choosing to argue with Nikki or Tommy–while Tommy chose to either argue with Vince, or bottle up his feelings entirely. Of course, they both still cheated, but without the drinks and drugs it apparently wasn’t enough of a release for them. You tried to talk to them about it, but they both brushed you off for one reason or another. 

Vince’s growing animosity with Nikki, and on occasion Tommy, made him start to keep you at arm’s length. He didn’t have a problem with you personally, but your closeness with the other two made it difficult for him to open up to you despite your efforts to talk to him. As time went on, he just kept pushing you further away, becoming more distant, and you worried just how far he would drift from you and the others before he would just disappear all together.

You and Tommy were just as close as always–closer even, since rehab helped you get past some of your old bullshit–he just didn’t want to talk about his problems with Heather. Part of the problem was that he didn’t totally understand what was wrong; what little he would say about it was that she was being ‘weird and distant’ and that she wasn’t answering his calls, so he didn’t really know enough to talk about. 

But you also thought part of him was just too scared to talk about it. Tommy had dreamed about true love his whole life, and he found it–it had probably never occurred to him that he could lose it. Things had always gone so well with Heather; for there to suddenly be signs of trouble brewing probably terrified him. You wanted to talk to him about it–comfort him, if you could–but if he didn’t want to talk about it, you didn’t want to force the issue.

Aside from the personal problems, there was also the issue of Nikki running the show. 

When Doc was fired, Nikki had taken over trying to manage the band alone. He wasn't doing an awful job, and you helped him out as much as he would let you given his control freak personality. Still, it was the cause of a lot of the fights between him and Vince.

��

You and the boys were sitting at a table in the middle of a strip club, drinking waters and looking miserable. A waitress walks by with a tray of lemon drops, offering you the shots. They look amazing, and you can just imagine the sweet and sour shot burning down your throat, but none of the boys had drank this tour and you weren’t about to be the first to fall off the wagon. Nikki sends her away with an order for another round of waters–Vince looking less than pleased. Trying to escape the tense atmosphere, you glance over your shoulder to look at Tommy. 

He was standing at the payphone, looking upset as he talks into the handpiece; Heather must still be dodging his calls. You stare at him a little longer–watch the frustration and confusion on his handsome face–and even though you should be happy that things weren’t going well, you couldn’t help but hurt for him. You didn’t want Tommy to be unhappy, no matter what the reason behind it.

“They’re keeping us on the road–15 new days in Canada.” Nikki says, bringing your attention back to the table.

“I haven’t seen anything about any new days.” Vince says, looking annoyed. Uh oh. This would end in another fight if Nikki wasn’t careful. 

“Check your itinerary man.” Nikki replies.

“I would, but apparently someone doesn’t think it’s important to let the lead fucking singer know what the fuck is going on here.” Vince snaps.

“I’ll get you a copy of the new itinerary Vince.” You reply, trying to deescalate the situation. Just then, Tommy plops down in the seat next to you.

“Guys I fucked up. Heather’s being all weird and distant and–I drank.” He says, looking ashamed. “Well, a little–I had one shot and I’m sorry.”

“I’m gonna have a fucking cocktail too man.” Vince says before you have a chance to respond. “What are you gonna do about it Nikki?”

“Okay look everyone falls off the wagon once and awhile–” Nikki replies.

“Oh fuck you man, fuck off! Fuck the rest of this tour! It is the no fucking fun tour, and I am sick and tired of not having any fun.” Vince shouts, standing up.

“Vince!” You call out to him as he walks off, but he ignores you.

“Just let him go y/n.” Tommy says as Nikki chases after him.

You watch as Nikki confronts Vince, who physically pushes Nikki away before taking a shot. Just like that, sobriety was out the window. Nikki comes back up and sits down.

“Shit.” He says, slumping in his seat.

“I’ll get him the itinerary when we get back Nikki, and we’ll sort this out, okay?” You say, trying to be supportive. “It was just one drink; he was just angry because he’s stressed out.”

“I can’t believe I forgot to send him the new fucking itinerary.” Nikki says.

“It’s fine, you’ve got a lot on your plate. Don’t stress about it; I’ll take care of it.” You reply. He looks over at you.

“You probably wouldn’t have forgotten.” Nikki muses, before sighing, hanging his head. “You’re right y/n, I do have a lot on my plate–too much, probably. I’ve been thinking for awhile now that I’m not really cut out for this manager shit–that I should probably hand over the reigns to someone whose better suited to the work so I can get back to just focusing on the music.” He lifts his head to look at you. “So what do you say? You wanna be our manager?” You stare at him like a deer in headlights.

“Excuse me?” You ask, stunned.

“You guys are cool with that, right?” Nikki asks, looking over at Tommy and Mick.

“Fuck yeah dude! That’s awesome.” Tommy says, smiling over at you. Even after everything, his smile made your heart race.

“About time if you ask me; she’s the obvious choice.” Mick says, taking a drink of his water, a smile playing on his lips.

“You really want me to be your manager?” You ask, looking back at Nikki.

“Yeah. You already have experience helping me and Doc, and I mean who’s better qualified to take care of us than you?” Nikki asks, smirking.

“You are uniquely qualified for the position–you’ve got nearly 10 years experience cleaning up our messes.” Mick jokes.

“I don’t know, I made a lot of those messes too.” You reply, smiling.

“Hell yeah you did!” Tommy says, raising his hand expectantly. You laugh, giving him a high-five.

“I’m just saying; yeah, maybe we could hire someone with more experience in management–but we could never find someone we trust more.” Nikki says, putting a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve been with Motley Crue from the very beginning–you deserve this–and we know you’ll always do what’s best for this band.” You had to stop yourself from tearing up.

“Okay, if everyone’s cool with this–I’ll do it.” You say, smiling from ear to ear. “But you have to talk to Vince about it too.”

“Yeah, yeah–I don’t see why he’d have a problem with it, but I’ll tell him tomorrow when I bring him that fucking itinerary.” He says, leaning back and smirking at you.

—

February 1992

The phone rang and rang, but there was no answer. You knew there wouldn’t be–Vince had become so flaky since Sharise had left. You look at the others, all looking pissed as you slowly hang up the phone.

“I’m telling you guys everything is fucking all upside down and flipped flopped and while we’re waiting for our lead singer to get his head out of his ass we’re getting left in the dust man!” Tommy says, standing behind his drumset. You sigh. “I’m just saying bands replace their frontmen and it still works okay? Van Halen–”

“I know Van Halen fucking did it cause you say that every single time Vince misses a fucking rehearsal.” Nikki snaps.

“Come on Tommy, he’s just going through a lot right now.” You try to reason with him. “Wouldn’t you be a little off your game if Heather left you?”

“Don’t even fucking say that man.” Tommy says.

“I mean, can’t you all just try and be a little empathetic for once? Please?” You ask.

“Whatever; just call the prick again.” Mick says. You sigh, making your way over to the phone, while Nikki moves over to the fax machine. You have a feeling you’re not going to be happy about the message he's about to send.

—

You’re working on some paperwork while the boys continue with rehearsal without Vince, when the blonde comes marching into the studio. 

“Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on here?” Vince asks, clearly pissed.

“Let’s save us all some time, especially yours Vince as it’s clearly more valuable than ours!” Nikki snaps back. You stand up and move towards them.

“You’d better tell me what the fuck’s going on man.” Vince says again.

“What’s going on is we’re down here, and we’re working, and we wanna be here, but we are tired of forcing you to be here with us.” Nikki says.

“Maybe I’d come in more if I liked the material.” Vince jeers.

“Maybe you’d like the material if you were in the studio making it with us instead of staring at your fucking watch!” Tommy jumps up and shouts.

“Woah, let’s all calm down.” You say, getting between them.

“Yeah, I’m staring at my watch because this album is fucking stupid!” Vince yells back. There’s a silence as the boys all look at each other. “You know what fuck all y’all. You know, I’m done. Fuck this, I quit.”

“Vince!” You call after him as he makes his way to the door.

“Good, ‘cause you’re fucking fired!” Nikki yells back.

“Nikki!” You shout at your brother, looking between him and Vince.

“I quit already, dick.” Vince says, walking out. Nikki slams the door behind him. You look up at him, as the room fills with a heavy silence, the weight of what just happened hitting them. Before anyone has the chance to say anything, you quickly run out after Vince.

“Vince!” You called his name through the rain, but he was already getting into his car. You quickly make your way through the downpour and jump into the passenger’s seat before he can drive off.

“What the fuck?” He looks over at you in surprise.

“I couldn’t just let you leave before we talked.” You say, your wet hair dripping water on the leather of the seat as you look over at him.

“I’m not going back in there y/n–I’m done.” He says, looking out the windshield.

“So what, that’s it? Just like that? You’re just gonna walk away?” You ask, not even trying to hide the tears pooling in your eyes.

“It had to happen sometime y/n–we all knew this was coming.” He said, still not looking at you.

“It didn’t have to Vince–it still doesn’t. I can talk to them, I can–” He puts his hand on yours.

“It’s over y/n. Let it go.” Vince says, looking into your eyes. You feel a tear slide down your cheek.

“So now what?” You ask. “What are you gonna do?” He moves his hand away and looks back out the windshield.

“I don’t know. I’ve still got my racing–and hey, I could always try making it as a solo artist.” He smiles over at you. “You wouldn’t happen to know any good managers, would you?” You laugh.

“Oh the boys would hate that.” You reply.

“Fuck’m–it’s your life, do what you want.” Vince replies. “Just think it over and let me know, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll think about it.” You reply, reaching for the door handle. You stop, looking back at him. “And Vince, I just want you to know; no matter what happens–any of the drama or the bullshit that may come from this–you’re still my friend, okay? You’re important to me, and I love you.” Vince blushes, looking away.

“Yeah yeah, I love you too–now shut up and get out of my car.”

—

1993

You somehow convince the boys it would be fine if you manage them and Vince, and things for him were going fairly well. His first solo album, Exposed, was doing moderately well on the charts. Meanwhile, you were trying your best to deal with a Motley Crue without Vince Neil. John Corabi was brought in to be the new lead singer for the band, and while he was a good singer and a nice enough guy–he just wasn't Vince.

The fans knew it too. As much as Nikki and the others tried to promote John, everyone just wanted Vince back. Of course you did too, but what could you do? The band had succeeded because they were a group of stubborn fools who didn’t know when to give up, but that also meant they didn’t know how to back down from a fight–even when they knew they'd fucked up. No one wanted to admit they were wrong and come ‘crawling back’ to the other, so they were stuck in a stalemate.

—

You were sitting at home in your office, going over some paperwork for Vince, when you phone rings.

“Hello, y/n Sixx speaking.” You say absently as you continue reading over the paper in your hand.

“Y/N?” It was Tommy. He sounded upset. You set the paper down on the desk.

“Tommy? What’s wrong?”

“Y/N, I-I fucked up man, I fucked up so bad.” He stammers. “Fuck y/n, I, I–”

“Whoa, Tommy! Calm down.” You say, clutching the phone tightly. “Just tell me what happened.” 

“There was this fucking article–someone got pictures. Damn I’m so fucking stupid!” He shouts.

“Tommy, you’re not making any sense.” After a long stretch of silence, you hear a sob come through the line.

“Heather knows I cheated. She left me y/n–she’s kicking me out.” Your breath catches in your throat. 

A rush of emotions hits you like a freight train–too many to sort through at once. Anger, sadness, pity, illation, hope, guilt; each coming one after another. Anger at Tommy for cheating again. Sadness and pity at the pain he must be going through. Illation and hope because finally, finally, you might have a chance with him. And lastly guilt, that you would even consider your own feelings now, when he was in so much pain.

“Y/N?” Tommy calls out to you, snapping you out of your trance.

“Oh, oh god Tommy I’m so sorry.” You say, shaking your head to clear your thoughts. “Um, if, if you need somewhere to stay for awhile, you’re more than welcome to crash with me.” You offer.

“Really? You’re sure that’s cool?” He asks.

“Yeah of course.” You say. “It’ll be just like old times.” He laughs through a sob.

“Yeah, old times.” He repeats.

“You want me to come by? I can help you bring some stuff over.” You ask.

“Thanks y/n. God, what would I do without you?” He replies, and you smile to yourself.

You didn’t want to be this happy about Tommy’s marriage failing, but it had been seven years–seven long years, and you had given up hope of ever getting your chance with Tommy. 

Now, you might finally have one–a chance–and that thought alone nearly made your heart leap out of your chest. 

[phantom-curve]

did I shatter you? (epilogue)

part one: you’re not my homeland anymore | part two: when a good man hurts you | part three: there’s an ache in you, put there by the ache in me | part four: my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand | epilogue: what died didn’t stay dead

A cold wind whipped Julie Molina’s curls across her face as she sat on a bench in Coney Island. Light grey clouds hung overhead, darker on the horizon like a storm was headed her way. She shivered, tucking her coat more securely around her body as she stared out across the boardwalk, eyes unseeing. Sand crunched in the distance. A body emerged from the low hanging fog.

“Julie!”

Her head turned at the sound of her name. A figure was making its way towards her, signature orange beanie shining like a beacon in the misty air. A smile stole across her lips. She launched herself off of the bench, meeting him halfway in a tangle of limbs as she jumped into his arms. He staggered back a step, laughing softly.

“I missed you.”

She whispered the words directly in his ear, pressed him close as a shiver worked down his spine. His arms flexed against her back.

“You only beat me here by two days. If you hadn’t wanted to see them put the Rockefeller tree up so badly we could have been on the same plane.”

She leaned back in his hold, sticking her tongue out right in his face.

“You say that like you wouldn’t have been right there with me if Andi didn’t need you to wrap up contract negotiations. I don’t know why you three took so long with that anyway. I told you it didn’t matter to me.”

“It mattered to us. There’s no breaking up Julie and The Phantoms again. It’s all or nothing baby. Forever.”

His cold nose nuzzled against her cheek. She rolled her eyes, but the sentiment behind the boys demanding a clause in the new contract that wouldn’t allow the band to be split up by the label again came from a place that made her want to melt. A full year past their initial reconciliation and Luke was still proving to her every day that he was in this for the long haul.

When they had first approached the label about adding The Phantoms back to Julie, Andi hadn’t been sold on it at all. Despite the fact that they had a good 6 years of success under their belt, the desperation and immediateness of how Julie had broken them up didn’t make her keen to try again. But they had been adamant that they were better together. Julie did well as a solo artist, but she didn’t have near the same reach or recognition as when they had been a full band. The Phantoms performed well on rock charts without Julie, but they had dropped a lot of their pop demographic when they lost her sound. Business wise, it made sense to merge them again. It was Flynn who had cinched the deal for them.

One single picture, teasing nothing more than the back of Julie and Luke sitting next to each other on a piano bench was posted as a story on the official Julie and The Phantoms Instagram. The internet went into a tailspin of speculation. It was the first post the account had made since the break-up, and every single social media site had gone insane trying to figure out what it meant. Fans had all but demanded a reunion. Andi, through a knowing smirk, had offered them a new contract.

It had been a decent contract. Basically the same as the one they had before, just slightly less pay, which they could accept. Then, with Julie’s knowledge and consent, the boys spoke up and asked about adding a clause that would not only give the band sole ownership of the Julie and The Phantoms brand, but also would not allow the dissolution of the band’s contract in favor of solo contracts for any of the band members. In layman’s terms, no one could quit the band and stay at the label.

It gave the label less incentive to allow any of the band members to do the type of negotiation Julie had. She understood why they wanted it. Alex and Reggie had nearly wept with relief when they learned that Julie and Luke were working things out, healing and growing and fixing their shit. Actually, she was pretty sure Alex had wept now that she thought about it. Andi, again, hadn’t been sold. They’d been working her for the last few weeks, drawing out other parts of the contract to buy time. Finally, Andi had sat them down and said she understood what it meant to them, but she couldn’t give them everything. She was willing to add the break-up clause, but the label wanted to retain the brand rights. Julie had been okay with compromise, but the boys wanted to fight it out. Resigned, Andi had promised to fax Julie the completed copy after the boys signed. She was surprised Andi had been able to hold out two full days. The boys without Julie to temper them were a powerful force to be reckoned with. Andi had known she would lose the fight the moment that photo uploaded to Instagram.

Luke leaned forward to kiss the tip of her tongue. She pulled it back into her mouth with a giggled ewww! before unwrapping her legs from around his waist. Gently, he set her back on the ground, his fingers trailing down her arm to intertwine with hers. Swinging their arms back and forth softly, Luke led her away from the bench. They walked in silence for a moment, comfortable and cozy in each other’s presence. Julie’s soul hummed, the overwhelming feeling of rightness nearly making her head swim. She thought she would be used to it by now, used to being happy and whole again, but every day with Luke felt better than the last.

Occasionally, her head felt the need to remind her it hadn’t actually been that long. They’d only been reunited for just over a year, only back in a relationship for the last six months of that year. But, Luke had changed. The anger that had once sustained him didn’t lurk in the background anymore. He had made peace with the events of the past, and it had allowed him to fully move on in a way she hadn’t ever thought he would. Luke was a new man, and Julie had fallen for him all over again. Realistically, she should have known it would happen. She hadn’t ever been able to stop loving him in the first place.

Without warning, Luke spun her into his arms, dipping her with a dramatic flourish and planting a smacking kiss on her lips. Julie let out a peal of delighted laughter, holding onto his neck for dear life. He pulled her upright, grinning as he tucked her close for an impromptu bastardization of a waltz. She let him lead, content to rest her head against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat drumming into her head: homehomehome.

“I love you, Julie Molina.”

His words promised a lifetime of forever.

“I love you, Lucas Patterson.”

Under the same lights where they first came together, on the same pier where they had fallen apart so suddenly, in the same spot where they had started to rebuild their life together, Julie leaned into the man of her dreams. They weren’t perfect, but they were perfect for each other. And, in the end, that’s really all that mattered. Everything else was just background noise.

[cloviaglade]

THE CRIMSON FLOWER ROUTE CORPORATE UNION AU

Yeah it came to me in a dream shared it with a friend and she said I should inflict it on the world so here we go

Warning: It's super long but I broke it up into chunks

(note not all members of the house fall into the categories listed also I'm not the best with corporate terms and positions. Also this was made for fun and isn't that serious)

The houses

The Black eagles generally were in accounting or sales. They dealt with a lot of the customers firsthand and were considered expendable

Blue lions where mostly in HR or IT

Golden deer mostly worked in maintenance and public relations.

Staff and church members are members of the board. Flayn has her position on the board despite her age because nepotism

The Seiros Co:

It's a large company that provide a large array of services and products that promote physical and emotional well-being. The company started out with good intentions but soon became a corporate monster

The company provides a host of benefits to its employees including on site housing, on site restraunts, on site pools gyms ect. They even have the best insurance on the planet. They even have horse therapy.

However they have to pay premiums on the health insurance, their rent is docted from their pay, they have to pay for on-site facilities, and those living on site are heavily encouraged to work overtime.

a lot of this is justified by cover every single health expense and days of for minor colds. Many employees seek mental health care more often than they seek physical care.

The on site living conditions vary heavily. Most are just a small white room with a single bed and a dresser. No visitors after certain hours and forget about outside visitors. However rumors are spreading that the board members have spacious luxury apartments.

The pay without all the benefits is not a wage you could live off of. But with the rent for these rooms doct from your pay you couldn't reasonably save up for different arrangements.

The strike begins:

Edelguard was finally fed up watching her team struggling. She hears constantly about how her workers are not making enough. How they have to scrape because they needed new clothes or shoes. Or worse how Petra wasn't able to support her sick grandfather

She hired a lawyer Hubert to look into information about their contracts and compare everything to labor laws. She needed to know how much of this was legal and if there was anything to be done about it.

Huberts lawfirm dealt with several lawsuits in the past. They are considered ruthless in court however media painted them out to be money hungry and demented

As expected, it was legal (mostly due to lack of regulation for these types of benefits) but really unfair, So Hubert suggested a strike. His firm would handle all the legal matters as they prepared a lawsuit and to unionize.

Edelguard was careful to organize it in private. Nothing was emailed. Nothing to tract them. Flyers were handwritten and posted in the dorms inviting members to secret meeting on slow hours.

Roles

What everyone did on the day of the strike/position they were in the office.

Black eagles

Edalguard: head of sales- she got everyone in her department and many others in different departments to simply stop working for the day when she commanded everyone to stop working via megaphone. She suck in hubert and went to a private meeting room to set up a list of demands.

Hubert: head of Vestra lawfirm- he snuck past security with the help of Edelguard. He brought a laptop and a phone with Hotspot so he could video call the rest of his attorneys from inside the conference room. Once the strike was in full swing he toured the place with Edelguard gathering evidence.

Ferdinand: senior sale manager has the highest customer satisfaction - when the strike was well underway he sent a mass email to everyone in every department including the CEO and founder herself in a very professional tone about how there is a strike. Lornez replied immediately and they when to the breakroom to enjoy tea while on the clock.

Lindhart: IT software specialist - first thing he did was turn off all the bans on websites. Everyone could go on whatever website they wanted to. He left the download blocker up and other safety precautions in place. Others could looks at memes and scroll through social media ect. He then returns to his dorm and takes a paid nap.

Caspar: manager in accounting slow but very accurate and a real team player - he hated the no pets policy with a burning passion so he let all the stray and feral cats that hang around the building in through one of the side doors. They stayed mostly on the ground floor and a few made a mess under the desks. He played with the strays with a few of his co-workers.

Bernadette: customer service rep. - she hated the calls filled with angry people. She clocked out, disconnected he phone, ran into her dorm and screamed into her pillow until calm. Once she calmed down enough she did some embroidery.

Dorothea: sales representative- has the highest upsale rate - she gets into her car and just leaves. She is still clocked in. Nobody knows where she went. Some say she met with a lover, others say she went on a binge. Nobody really knows.

Petra: bilingual sales rep. - she signed her phone off and immediately called up her family overseas. She proceeded to catch up and talk with her family for hours. She rarely got to speak with them due to the difference in timezones.

Blue lions

Dimitri: head of IT - he doesn't actually know much about IT and has little intrest in it. He got the job because his dad recommended him. With the outside website ban lifted and the lost of control of his department he frantically tried to get everything under control

Dedue: cyber security and protocol educator - although the bans are lifted he is still concerned about a cyber attack. He is frantically try to restore the ban but it seems like lindhart deleted the code.

Felix: hardware specialists - he was the one who should've been promoted into Dimitri's position and is a bit smug about how everything is falling apart in front of his boss. He bypasses the download blocker and plays minecraft on the company computer. Dimitri is too busy to notice that felix isn't helping.

Sylvain: HR rep. - he knew from the start that working conditions were shit. He was tired of trying to raise moral by doing everything but paying the employees more, giving them time off, and reasonable working hours. He went to the break room where Ferdinand and Lornez were having tea and ate a bunch of the snacks the company was reselling at super high prices then faxed a picture of his ass and balls to rhea herself as a letter of resignation.

Ashe: new hire in IT - was called down to the first floor to replace a keyboard a cat peed on. Found caspar was the reason the cats were let in. Caspar then persuaded him to play with the cats instead of shooing them out. 3 hours later he completely forgot about the strike and clocked out per usual. He completely forgot about the strike

Mercedes: head of HR - she meets with the board and discussed what to do about the strikers. They can't force them to go home since everyone striking lives on site and has every right to be there. No significant damages is being done to property. The only loss is from those not working (and a keyboard covered in cat piss and $35 worth of snacks) Mercedes is forced to find a way to get them to stop but in a way that doesn't really change anything. She leaves the meeting when it is over clocks out and returns to her modest house she calls out sick for the next couple of months.

Annette: HR rep - she tries to stop the chaos on the floor and to convince everyone to return to work. She is ignored. She wanted to ask for a megaphone to help gain attention but edelguard took the one from HR and the person with the key to one in the event closet is striking as well. She runs around in a paint trying to answer emails and settle everyone down.

Ingrid: IT helpline rep - helping Dimitri reset the ban on outside websites is above her pay grade. She at least know some of the terminology and the basics. She manages to set up a very basic blocker but it didn't block whole domains just the homepage of every website she could think of that's wasn't appropriate for work. Logging into the site allowed you to bypass the block. Ingrid feels like she will be fired for not being able to do more

Golden deer:

Claude: event planner - noticing that there was no work happening he finally decided it was time to actually do his job. He dipped into those sweet event funds and ordered as many pizza's as he could from every pizza join that could deliver. He busted out the sport balls and got employees to clear some room for flag football on the 3rd floor. He got Hilda to organize games of hide and go seek in floors 4 and 5. All games and activities were not officially approved but followed all guidelines.

Hilda: claudes assistant - organized games on the 4th and 5th floors. The cubicle although uniform made excellent hiding spaces and the food plaza just got rid of the old tables and chairs awaiting delivery of new ones so there was a ton of space to run around. Hidia had to jump between floors pretty often which was a workout all on its own but it was worth it to see everyone smile at work for once.

Lornez: head of advertising - he was tired of writing jingles and stupid commercials for the company. He wasn't aware of the strike until he got the email from Ferdinand. He offered to treat him to some tea he brought from home. They had a lovely talk and watched Sylvain stress eat. He tried to talk Sylvain out of resigning but failed.

Raphael: pizza delivery guy - he thought it was a joke at first since they never delivered pizza to the Serios Co but was persuaded by Claude. He got stopped at the front by the front desk clerk who was ordered not to allow any deliveries. Soon more pizza guys showed up and some of them where not as nice as Raphael. He eventually got in and successfully delivered his pizza.

Ignatz: accountant - he wanted no part of this and tried to work despite being on the 3rd floor. He doesn't have any PTO and is frantically trying to get his absence approved because he cannot work under these conditions. He got walled in with desks and chairs and hand to crawl his way out to try to find someone in HR to help him but found their office empty. Worst day of work ever.

Lysithia: Intern- hopes to join the advertising department - She needs this job for school credits so finding out that her boss told her to take the day off because of strike she immediately thought of her record. Lorenz assured her that she would get credit as long as he had any say in it. She played a round of hide and go seek before studying in Lornez's office

Marianne: customer service rep.- she heard the rumors and on the day of the strike she freaked out and when to have a panic attack in her car. She was on lunch technically but she took a 3 hour lunch. She came back in clocked out and decided to try that horse therapy.

Leonnie: pizza delivery guy (not nice) - she knows the customer didn't care that the order took so long to complete and was very understanding that the 30mins or less delivery time but seriously! 50 PIZZAS!! She had to stretch and press dough at top speed for like 45 mins then she burnt her hand while boxing some of the pizza's and she had to deliver all of it to this company just outside of town and now the person at the front door is insisting that the pizza was ordered by mistake oh no! Not today! You will take the pizza and you will pay for it and tip 25%.

Church

Rhea: CEO and founder - she honestly believes her practices are helping the community. She doesn't realize that she doesn't give her employees much choice. She thinks her employees are ungrateful.

Seteth: president - also believes the company is doing the best they can. He knows the dorms are small and brand but they house 78.364% of their employees and they all see a doctor at least 3 times a month. He hates that he has difficulty finding a balance between competitive prices, compensating workers, and turning a profit.

Flayn: secretary - she saw the fun going on in the 5th floor while on her lunch and thought it was organized by staff and didn't connect it as part of the strike.

Catherine: front desk - tried to turn away all the delivery drivers but more kept coming. She kept getting calls from upper management about the social media platforms and tried frantically to get in to make a statement but had little luck. She gave up when Leonnie demanded payment and let all the delivery people in.

Shamir: social media manager- she originally attended the meetings as a mole but soon learned that her fellow employees hardships. She drafted huge posts on every platform exposing the truth, changed all the passwords then took a vacation during the strike.

Hanneman: chief operational officer - he is calling and emailing the IT department about the bans every moment he can. He organized the meeting as soon as the strikers got rowdy.

Manuela: chief financial officer - although she is worried about the finances she has also been pressing about where to cut the budget first. Horse therapy is ridiculous! They own the whole ranch and are responsible for the upkeep of every horse. And all the horses are carefully hand selected and trained too. It's too much nobody uses the horse therapy because nobody has the time off to go to horse therapy!

Alois: Chairman - his title is mostly empty. He joined the strikers in a game of flag football scored a touchdown. Then went back to work as usual. Didn't check his emails about the strike since he only checks them in the morning when he first comes into work.

Gilbert: treasurer - he puts business first. Doesn't know his daughter works for the same company. Was friends with Dimitri's father. He is stressing about how the company will recover financially. He is the reason for the pay cuts so they can fund most of the benefits.

Cyrill: gopher - he gets paid minimum wage and lives on site. He considers himself lucky that he can drive the company car to go pick up office supplies from the store. He was homeless before he got a job at Seiros and feels like he is important.

Results

Since several members of the board were caught participating in strike activities the hubert and his firm counted them at strikers and used this in court.

The dorms were not considered responsible accommodations saying that prisoners in jail cells at least have their own toilet.

The news when crazy with the posts on social media. The account never replied to any dms or comments. When called they said a rogue employee posted them falsely because she was being fired.

Rhea was forced to pay a lawsuit that gave all dormitory workers an allowance of $1000 for rent for life. Even if they choose to leave the company.

Dimitri was fired for not actually having any training. Felix was promoted to the head of IT and everyone respects him.

Rhea looses her company. And most of her assets. She kept the therapy horse ranch and manages that for a living.

With the entire company now belonging to her since everyone above her resigned she made a ton of changes making the company more normal. She pays a fair livable wage to every employee. She repurposed the dorms into offices or solitary break rooms.

Huberts firm gets rebranded as a honest firm that wants to help the little guys. He later goes on to help other corporations unionize.

[aswallowssong]

Second Child, Restless Child

Chapter 9 - The Devil Whispered Lies

@valkyrie-5583

Read on AO3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s killing women at an alarming rate.

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

Gideon continued. “Enjoys taunting the game.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

Ryan nodded. “He could be incapacitated.”

Gideon latched back on. “At least partially.”

“Maybe an injury.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She didn’t have an answer for herself.

-----

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

You look exhausted.

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

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

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

She hadn’t even sent a text. 

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

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

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

She had her phone out and dialed in record time.

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

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

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

“It’s not about the case.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Probably the US Attorney's office.”

“Which branch?”

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Virginia Colghain?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kit hung up the phone.

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

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

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

“Monty.”

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, I woke you, didn't I?”

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

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

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

“Nothing. Everything is fine.”

“But why are you crying?”

Damn it.

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

“Why are you calling me, crying-”

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

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

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

“You’re what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kody, wait-”

“I love you, Mont, I’m so sorry.”

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

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

Derek.

“Dakota!”

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

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

------

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” she said. “Just… tired.”

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

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

"Because of your sister?"

"What?"

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

"Your sister's sick, right?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wasn’t done yet.

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

She just hoped it would last.

“What goes in that notebook?”

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

She blinked up at him. “Oh.”

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

“Oh?”

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

“Like a journal? A diary?”

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

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

“Hey, coffee?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What you said about pushing back.”

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

“I… Claudia really threw me.”

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

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

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

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

“And you were that woman for her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve got two black eyes.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have a headache?”

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

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

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

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

He had stuttered to a halt.

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

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

Sort of, as far as Spencer Reid was concerned. 

“This… isn’t a Gideon thing?”

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

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

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

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

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

Her heart sank. 

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

Well, aren’t you?

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

“See you tomorrow, Dakota,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JJ’s words played in her head. 

You do.

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

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

But do you really want to be?

-----

It's me again!

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

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

[boldlyvoid]

Crystal Clear

Summary: With Emily finally back from the dead, it seems like the best time for Y/N and Spencer to vow to love each other till death do us part.

warnings: mentions of Emily's death, allusions to sex, weddings, drinking mentions.

word count: 4,424

a/n: this is for @starry-eyed-spence and @simmonsmilf cm fanfic week, for an alternate ending to an episode for It Takes A Village and Proof. I think season 7 deserved to be bookended with Weddings!

Amethyst Quartz

NSFW one-shot of what happened between the ceremony and the reception will be posted separately and linked in the fic

When she pictured her wedding day, she imagined a long white dress and a sharp-dressed man who her dad loved, and her grandma sitting in the front row, crying as she smiled. It was a day she visioned for years, and yet nothing will ever live up to the actual day.

Once Spencer’s knee healed, they started planning for the wedding. Then JJ was transferred from the unit, Emily died, Aaron went to Pakistan and the team broke up. It was a rough 2 years in the office, it got in the way of planning, but the biggest setback was caused by two little pink lines.

Amethyst was born in the midst of all the changes, it was nice to have Spencer howe for a while but she missed the office life. Sometimes, strapping their little girl to her chest and going in to file paperwork just to feel something while Spencer was teaching at the academy. And Aimee loved it too, she loved to walk around and place papers in new piles, smiling and waving at all the new faces and listening in to all the cool noises of the fax machine, all the printing, and the constant phone calls.

One phone call she’ll never forget.

“Y/N,” Derek's voice was on the line before she could even say hello. “I need you to get in contact with Hotch, Reid, Rossi and Anderson, we need the whole team. I found Ian Doyle.”

She was extremely glad to have brought Aimee with her that day, when Declan ended up missing and they had no idea who else families were at stake before Ian was brought in. Spencer and Rossi arriving back at headquarters not that long after, Spencer immediately held his little girl, snuggling her in the briefing room as they waited for the rest of the team to assemble. Unbeknownst to them that Aimee was going to get to meet her Aunt Emily that day.

“Welcome back,” Derek cuts the conversation short when Hotch walked into the room, bearded and tired from his long flight home.

“Thanks. Everybody have a seat,” he brushed it off.

Y/N sat down beside Spencer, Aimee’s fist wrapped around her finger as she sat in Spencer's lap, overlooking her aunts and uncles from the table.

“Why? What’s going on? Everything alright?” Derek automatically jumped to defensive.

“Seven months ago I made a decision that affected this team. As you know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her,” Hotch explains. Face straight and to the point as everyone gasped and looked around at each other.

“And she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need-to-know, and she stayed there until she was well enough to travel,” he adds to the crowd of shaking heads and disappointed scowls. “She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security.”

“She’s alive?!” Penelope cries, a tear spreading down her cheek in both excitement and horror. She can’t believe she was lied to and yet it's the best news she’s heard all day.

“But we buried her,” Spencer asks, holding Aimee closer and settling in his despair.

“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision, if anyone has any issues they should be directed towards me.”

“Any issues?” Derek finally speaks, fighting through the confusion and deflecting his pain with anger. “Yeah, I got issues.”

That’s when the footsteps approach, heads turn to the door and there she is. Emily Prentiss in the flesh, alive and healthy and more beautiful than ever before.

“Oh my god,” Penelope cries again, standing from her chair and rushing to her friend's side to hug her. “You’re home, you’re really here.”

Emily holds her back, closing her eyes and taking in the first hug after almost a year without her.

Spencer hands Aimee over to Y/N, standing to go give Emily her next hug before turning her towards them. “You left before you could meet our little gem,” he says quietly. “This is Amethyst, but we call her Aimee.”

Emily picks her up smiling at Y/N, “hi to you too, she’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Y/N cries a little as she hands her over. Knowing just how much her death hurt Spencer, and how much this is going to mean to him going forward. “I went into labour 4 days after you— well after you died?”

“I am so sorry,” Emily explains, looking up from the 7-month-old in her arms and looking around the room. “Not a day went by that I didn’t want to…”

Derek looks at her, pouty and unable to process the fact that she’s real, that she didn’t die in his arms and he did in fact do everything for her. “Really,” she points her response to him, calling him over with her eyes. “You didn’t deserve that, and I’m so sorry.”

They hug with the little one between them, Y/N joining in, then Penelope and soon enough it’s a BAU group hug. “There’s so much I want to tell you guys, and I will I promise. But right now I really need to know what’s going on with Declan?”

She hands Aimee back to Y/N, patting Spencer on the back before getting the show on with road, like she never left.

Now, two weeks later, she’s still unmarried, carrying her baby around the office as she waits for the team to come home from another terrible case. She’s using her free time before they go home to organize, with Penelope’s help, of course, they’ve been able to put together a whole wedding in under 3 weeks.

She needed to pick up her dress, Aimee’s dress, Spencer’s tie and other accessories as well as the rings. Penelope was making sure the flowers, centrepieces and food were delivered. They paid extra for the inconvenience, the fast set up and it’ll all be in Rossi’s backyard tomorrow evening.

Spencer has no clue, and normally he would know something was up, but he’s a little spacey currently. Between bouts of rage, fits of sassy comments and silent treatment. He was really mad at his friends, stressed at home with Aimee's teething and overwhelmed with his personal issues. He’s been different lately, and he needs this.

—

“This whole thing gave me an ulcer,” Emily adds, “please don’t give me another one. Please come to Rossi’s tomorrow night?”

Spencer sighs. Leaning back on his plane seat and closing his book, “it’s my wedding, of course, I’ll be there.”

Her eyes widen, “how did you know?”

“She’s my wife, I’m not sure if you’ve ever met her but she talks very loudly on the phone… I’ve heard every conversation she’s had this week through the baby monitor because she thinks planning and breastfeeding at 3am is a great way to multi-task as if the monitor isn’t on.”

Emily laughs, “she has mom brain now.”

Spencer smiles again, “I just wish you were here to see her when she was a newborn, she was so tiny I couldn’t believe someone could be so small?”

Emily smiles back, “I’ll be sure to be here for the second one.”

Spencer's eyes widen and his head tilts, “that might not be for a while… one is enough I think id like to sleep a bit more before we bring in a second in, I’m exhausted.”

She hums, “I always knew you’d be a good dad, though. I’m so happy for you both.”

“Do you want to be my best man?”

“Seriously?” She gasps, “you wouldn’t want Morgan or Hotch?”

He shakes his head, “I love them, they’re like brothers to me, but I think you’re my best friend other than Y/N.”

“Awe,” she lays a hand on her heart. “Spencer, I’m honoured you’d pick me. I love being best friends with you.”

“I don’t suppose you have something green or purple to wear tomorrow?” He teases, “Y/N will be pissed if you’re up there and not on theme.”

Emily just laughs, she missed him way more than she let herself, feeling a bit overwhelmed with emotion. “I love you, Spence, I hope you always know that.”

“I know,” he nods, “I don’t say it enough, I realized that when you were gone. But I love you, all of you actually.”

She smiles fondly, pressing her lips together as she relaxes in her seat, “we know.”

—

At home, Y/N places Amethyst in her crib carefully to ensure she stays asleep. Flicking on the white noise machine, then the monitor, before sneaking out of the room and closing the door. Running off to their bedroom where Spencer is sitting beside a salt lamp, reading to himself.

“What would are you visiting tonight?” She whispers as she crawls into bed beside him.

He closes it before she even gets under the covers. “Why are you hiding the wedding from me?”

She sighs in defeat, shoulders dropping and pout forming. “Who told you?”

He points at the monitor, “the crazy lady who feeds our kid at night.”

She covers her face with her hands and tosses her head back, smacking the wooden headboard with an, “ow…” Making Spencer laugh at her. “I wanted it to be a surprise cause you’re so grumpy.”

“can you blame me?”

She looks at him again, just as soft as before but curious as to what he could possibly be so upset about. “Your best friend came back from the dead, so what if JJ lied to you, you cried on her couch like 3 times? Just on the nights that I wasn’t home.”

“It’s more than that,” he gets a little defensive. “I don’t have any siblings, no one has ever really wanted to protect me and my feelings other than Emily. She is the cool older sister I always needed, and living in a world where she didn’t exist was the worst thing but what’s worse is Hotch and JJ didn’t think our team could handle knowing that secret so what else are they willing to keep from me?”

“I know you love her, but they had to keep her safe. And she’s not safe if all 6 of her best friends knew she was alive, it would be very noticeable to people watching if you didn’t have the kind of reaction you had. If you knew and Doyle saw you, he’d have no problem killing you or me or Aimee for Emily’s location,” Y/N was right. She always was. “it was for a good reason, you need to let it go. As much as I love you, this little hissy fit about secrets isn’t cute.”

“I know,” he sighs, leaning back against the pillows now too. “I’m excited to finally marry you tomorrow, I’m more excited to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“What would you do without me?” She teases, leaning over for a quick kiss, but he pulls her in to stay.

His arms wrapped around her, lazily kissing each other in the almost dark room, it’s calm and quiet and lovely. So much different from how it normally is at this time of night recently. Amethyst is sleeping for once, they’re alone and he’s not on call. So his hands start to travel down her back and under her underwear as he cups her ass.

Pulling her into his lap, grinding her against him as they kiss. “No, we need to sleep for tomorrow…” she whispers as his kisses travel down her neck.

“Pre-wedding quickie?” His bottom lip sticks out as he pouts.

She shakes her head, “how about between the ceremony and the reception we sneak off and do it in the guest room?”

He kisses her neck again, “fine, I guess you win.”

She snickers, rolling off and back to her side of the bed, “I’m so exhausted, we have to get up early tomorrow, your mom’s flying in with your aunt Ethel on Rossi’s jet, Derek is getting them cause he's the best with old ladies. JJ is taking Aimee for the day and Penelope is going to take you to get your suit fitted.”

Spencer reaches over to turn off his lamp before cuddling into her, “how did you do all this so quick?”

“I’m used to pulling all the strings to get what I want, I had no problem using my FBI letterhead to get people to do what I wanted…”

He kisses the side of her neck again, arm tightening around her waist as she pulls the blankets up around them.

—

Penelope was fastening his boutonniere when Derek walked in with Diana and his aunt Ethel. He was swarmed with hugs, his cheeks were pinched and aunt Ethel really wasn’t that fond of his newly grown facial hair.

“I like it,” Diana counters. “It makes him look like a man, a man who’s getting married.”

Spencer can't help but smile, “I’m so glad you could make it for this.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, believe me. And the girls said I have to bring home lots of photos, so I brought a few disposable cameras,” she digs through her purse and takes one out. Scrolling along the side to prepare the tape before aiming and taking possibly the worst photo she could of him, but he just smiled.

“Why don’t you both go take a look around the yard, Rossi is out there, I’m sure he’d love to answer all your questions about the property,” Penelope adds, shuffling them out of the room so she can finish putting Spencer in his suit.

“Not so fast,” She stops Derek from slipping out. “Put your suit on before you go get a drink, it’ll ruin the atmosphere if they see you without it on.”

Spencer shoots a glare at him, “there’s no stopping her. She’s the wedding planner.”

“From hell,” Derek whispers under his breath as he yoinks his arm from her grip and sticks his tongue out at him playfully.

“And this is exactly why you aren’t the best man,” she shoots back, following him into the bathroom to help him get ready.

Thus giving Spencer a moment to escape. Wondering down the hallway to the master bedroom where Y/N was standing by the window in her gown, watching the people mingle while Aimee had a nap in her playpen.

“Hey,” he whispered from the door, “you look beautiful.”

She turned with a smile, “thank you, but you’re not supposed to be looking at me yet.”

Spencer’s eyes welled up, his throat got thick and suddenly he was overwhelmed by the fact he was about to marry the love of his life. “I wanted you to see my reaction before anyone else,” he manages to whisper, walking towards her and wrapping her up in his arms. “I love you so much.”

Her hands snake inside his jacket, feeling his back, over his dress shirt and lightly running her nails over him. He settles almost immediately in her arms and kisses the side of her neck, “I love you more, Spence.”

After their long hug, he sits on the edge of the window with her, watching everyone they know interact. Y/N’s parents and siblings, aunts uncles and cousins that he’s heard of and barely knew, his mother and Gideon with Rossi and JJ…

It was such an interesting group of people, “oh good, he made it,” Y/N smiled, pointing down at Arminius who was placing a Crystal beside everyone's name place on the dinner tables. It was so much more extravagant than Spencer ever expected.

“You did a wonderful job with all this,” he gestures at the scene before them.

“You’re anxious?” She turns to him and opens her arms, “come here.”

He wraps his arms around her and holds her close to his chest, kissing the side of her neck gently and taking a few deep breaths. “I love you, I just hate talking in front of crowds about my feelings…”

“They already know you love me,” she teases. “If you stutter or cry, it’ll be fine because they all expect it. They know you’re a bumbling fool when it comes to me, and it’s cute.”

“Spencer Reid!” Penelope shouts from the doorway, followed by Aimee’s startled crying.

They pull apart, glaring at Penelope before Y/N goes to pick her up.

“I’m sorry, but you’re not supposed to be in here. We start in 15 minutes,” Penelope announces.

“I’ll see you out there?” Spencer asks, still anxious even though he knows she’s coming.

Y/N walks over with Aimee in her arms, kissing his cheek gently and leaving a lipstick stain. “I’ll see you out there.”

He kisses the top of Amethyst's head before heading out, Penelope in tow and Derek not far behind. Emily is downstairs in her green dress, drinking some champagne when she sees them.

“Ah!” She shouts with her arms raised, “you guys look amazing!”

“Thank you,” Spencer straightens out his suit. Nervous as ever.

“Ready to do this?” Derek places a hand on his back.

“No,” he sighs, “but I don’t have a choice Penelope will kill me.”

“Correct,” she calls out from where ever she’s disappeared to.

Derek and Emily take turns attempting to calm him down before they take their spots at the alter, waiting anxiously for his bride to make her way down. The music starts to play and he can feel the tears start to gather. Welling in his eyes as Henry scatters flowers down the aisle and Amethyst gets carried in with Penelope, but he cries when he sees her.

The love of his life is in a lilac dress, smiling graciously as she makes her way towards him. And he’s fixated on her and her alone, taking her hand when she reaches him, looking into her beautiful eye with a sweet smile and a trembling lower lip. He’s never been this in love, and he has a feeling it’ll only keep growing.

There wasn’t anyone there to officiate and Spencer barely noticed until Y/N’s attention moved to the audience, where Diana was standing and walking towards them, “surprise…” Y/N whispered.

“What?”

“For those of you who don’t know, Spencer’s mom Diana used to read him little love poems when he was a kid… I think it’s why he’s so wonderful now,” Y/N explains to everyone.

“I did,” Diana smiles, opening her sheet of paper as everyone in the audience sits.

Spencer’s so shocked that they managed to plan all this without him, and yet it’s perfect.

“I always hoped I’d be able to say a few words at Spencer’s wedding one day,” Diana starts. “From the moment he learned how to walk, Spencer has been taking care of me, learning how to be the best man in the world and preparing for the life I always knew he’d have. He’s a very kind soul, he’s always been so delicate and yet so incredibly strong. Picking up any broken pieces he finds and putting people back together.

“When I met Y/N for the first time I knew she was special, I knew that Spencer had found his person and that she was meant to be in his life. And the more I saw them together, the more they interacted— the more I realized that together Y/N and Spencer are like kintsukuroi. Which just means golden repair in Japanese, it’s the art of repairing broken pottery with gold. Y/N’s the golden glue, taking something broken that is trying so hard to fit in and making it beautiful. Together you’re priceless art, and that little girl you made is just further proof.”

Y/N silently cried, whispering a thank you to Diana, looking back at Spencer with glossy eyes and a sweet smile. He looked just the same.

“The happy couple has opted out of the traditional vows,” Diana adds. “Instead they’ve written their own, Y/N if you’d like to start…”

“Okay,” she turns to Spencer with a deep breath, she lets go of his hand and reaches into the pocket of her dress hearing some of the gasps in the audience and turning to them. “Pockets, cool right?”

It makes everyone laugh, including Spencer who really needed it. He was so anxious and she could see it. “Spencer and I work together, and I collect rocks… well I collect crystals to be exact. And I keep them on my desk for good luck with all the things we see every day.

“Spencer was the only person to ask about them, and then the following week he gave me a new rock every day, and I still have them all,” she holds the rocks in her hand for everyone to see. “A Rose Quartz for love, Serpentine for new adventures together, Chrysocolla for new beginnings and opportunity. But my favourites are the Kiwi Jasper for mutual support and trust, and the Ruby in Zoisite for finding the joy in life with someone… all things that came true for us.”

She puts them back in her pocket and takes out another single rock. “This is a clear quartz, just a regular crystal, but it amplifies energies and protects…” she slides it into the pocket of his suit jacket. “So whatever we feel for each other today will only grow as long as we have that. And I vow to love you forever.”

Spencer reaches into the pocket, behind the new rock she just added, to take out his tiger's eye. “She gave me this for good luck, I have it in my pocket for every case, I always feel it under my vest. It pokes me right in the heart and it reminds me that she loves me and I have someone to go home to, two someone’s… it brought me the best luck in the whole world with you and Aimee, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to properly explain how much I love you, but my god, I love you so much.”

It makes the audience laugh, and then a chorus of sniffles returns. Tear-stained cheeks watch as the two of them make heart eyes at each other, “I love you too,” she replies with a smile.

He takes her hands again, “I vow to protect you more than any of these rocks, not to be cheesy but you’re my rock. You’re my whole world and I love you so much it hurts. I’m never going to stop loving you.”

She grips his face and pulls him into a kiss, making everyone laugh once again, Diana included. “I guess you can kiss the groom…”

—

XXX

—

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Penelope’s voice is heard over the speakers. “If you could please clear the dance floor, the bride and groom would like to have their first dance.”

With Y/N’s hand in his, they walk to the centre of the floor where the crowd is circled around. The band started playing their song as his arms wrapped around her waist.

Swaying together with everyone watching was so strange, but this was their song. She was his favourite crystal, his arms wrapped around her snugly, resting his head on her shoulder as she sang along to the song… a song he’d never know if he didn’t meet her.

“Do you always trust your first initial feeling,

Special knowledge holds true, bears believing.”

He can feel her hands roaming his back, trading her weight back and forth as they swayed with more purpose, Y/N pulled back enough to look at him, holding his face in her hands.

“I turned around and the water was closing all around like a glove, like the love that had finally, finally found me,” she whispers.

“Then I knew in the crystalline knowledge of you,” he replies just as soft, forgetting the audience behind them and getting lost in her eyes.

“You drove me through the mountains,

Through the crystal-like and clear water fountain,

Drove me like a magnet,

To the sea,

To the sea.”

She can’t help but smile. Knowing what they planned to do next, holding his hand and letting him lead. One hand remains on her hip as he takes the other in his hand. Tossing her out with a spin before she returned to him.

“How the faces of love have changed turning the pages,

And I have changed, oh, but you, you remain ageless!”

Spinning her around, she’s nothing but smiles as everyone cheers and claps. Joining the happy couple on the dance floor with their partners. Twirling around with smiles and laughs to the song that represented the almightily love Spencer had for his wife.

His wife.

“I turned around and the water was closing all around like a glove,

Like the love that finally found me.

Then I knew in the crystalline knowledge of you.

Drove me through the mountains,

Through the crystal-like and clear water fountain!

Drove me like a magnet,

To the sea,

To the sea,”

And then they saw Amethyst in Penelope’s arms, swaying around with her aunt on her way over to them. Spencer reached out for her, taking her in his arms and inviting their little girl into their dance. It was the happiest he’s ever been, with the two people he loves the most, with everyone else who means the world to him there to bear witness.

Y/N’s dad steps in then, extending a hand to have a dance with his daughter as Spencer keeps swaying with his. Almost 10 months he’s been a father and it’s still the most surreal thing in the world to see her smile and giggle with her big brown eyes and chubby little cheeks. So much like him yet so much like her mom.

She plays with his tie as he holds her, kissing the top of her head gently before looking around. His mom was dancing with Derek, Emily and Penelope were cuddled into one another as they swayed to the music. JJ and Will having a moment while little Henry ran around with Rossi’s dog… it was the happiest he’s ever seen his friends.

Permanent tag list

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for this fic:

@happymangospot @mugi-chwan95

[navalcriminalimagines]

Every part of you

Request: Something just fluffy and domestic would be so nice...missing that old man. Maybe something like baking with him? Fluffy smut or just fluff, I would be really happy to see you write either. 💕

Warnings: Smut, blowjob, p in v, unprotected sex, kitchen sex

Words count: 2,4k

Joel Miller x Reader. Insecure Joel. No virus, no apocalypse. Divorced!Joel.

* * * * *

After his divorce with Sarah’s mother, Joel entered years of celibacy, except for the occasional hookups. He didn’t want to go down that road again, his marriage wasn’t the best one but he loved his wife and expected it to last forever, like they promised each other.

But things changed when he met you over a year ago.

It was one of those nights where his brother Tommy dragged him to a bar. You were there with some friends and the first thing he noticed about you was your smoking hot body. And before he knew it, Tommy brought you to their table to have a drink with them.

It was supposed to be one of those hookups. No strings attached. In the morning, he would’ve left and you probably wouldn’t have never met again.

But he broke rule number one on the first night anyway: never take someone home. He always found a way to go to his partner's place, or at least, found a place to do it, but never at his place. His home.

Until you.

Once you were done, he realized how young and innocent you looked. He could see the struggle on your face, as to whether you should leave or stay. He felt bad about himself and told you to stay. You warmly smiled and faxed yourself under the covers, your warm form curled up against him.

In the morning, he woke up to the smell of coffee and French toast. As you had breakfast together, you told him a bit about yourself and Joel found himself to be interested.

You left your phone number and two weekends later - he spends every two weekends with his daughter - Joel invited you for a drink. Which turned into a few ones. Which turned into taking you home again.

That was over a year ago. Now, you’re moving in with him.

He didn’t expect for it to happen. It’s just that when you mentioned wanting to move out from your crappy apartment, he simply told you to come live with him and Sarah. His teenage daughter is very fond of you, and Joel is deeply in love with you. There’s no reason this could go wrong, is there?

But somehow, it caused your first fight.

It was hard to fit two homes into one, and Joel wasn’t compromising at all. He didn’t want to get rid of anything.

“You have to meet halfway, Jo.” You told him, clearly annoyed.

“I am. I just don’t want to get rid of my couch. What’s wrong with that?”

“Well, for starters, mine is fairly new, bigger and way more comfortable. But it’s not just about the couch. It feels like you don’t want me to move in after all,” you said with such sadness in your voice, Joel felt horrible.

“I asked, didn't I?” He answered, defensively.

“Probably because you felt bad about my struggle to find a new place. Just like you felt bad after our first night together.”

“…What?”

“I’m not stupid, Joel. I know you didn’t want me to stay at first.”

“But you did.”

“Well, yeah. Because it was my first time hooking up with someone I just met. And—“ you took a deep breath. “I really don’t want to compliment you right now, but the sex was—mind blowing.”

You obviously were still pretty mad but Joel couldn’t help but smirk in his beard. Sex with you is indeed pretty mind blowing. There’s love, trust, passion, and you’re open-minded concerning his kinks. He never witnessed that before. Actually, he discovered new kinks with you, pretty much like if you were his very own kink.

“Take that smirk off your face. That’s unfair.” You breathed out.

Joel closed the distance between your bodies, and gently kissed your forehead. “Letting you stay that night was the best decision I’ve made in a very long time,” he kissed your nose. “I’ll get rid of the couch.” Then he kissed your lips and moved to your neck. “Let’s ruin it before.”

You chuckled and you did ruin his old couch.

A few weeks later, you were all moved in. Joel was exhausted, he fell asleep on your - extremely - comfortable couch. You covered him with a blanket and took care of the last details before cooking dinner.

Your parents had been owners of a restaurant for the past thirty years, your father being the chef and your mother doing pretty much the rest. You spent most of your time in the establishment as a child, and your father happily shared his know-how with you.

In the past year, Joel had barely spent time in the kitchen, as it became your space. Not that he minded.

He does mind the weight he’d been gaining though.

He woke up to the smell of one of your dishes, two hours after falling asleep. He could hear you doing your thing in the kitchen. He smiled, stretched himself and when his mind seemed awake enough, he joined you.

You felt his strong arms wrapping your middle, and took advantage of your messy bun to plant wet and sloppy kisses in your exposed neck. You felt shivers all the way through your body. “Hi handsome. Sleep well on the couch?”

“Bite me.” He growled against your skin and you chuckled.

“Did that last night.” You said, referring to the bite mark you left right on top of his shoulder. He had made you cum so hard, you didn’t control yourself.

“I love when you mark me.” He whispered in your ear, nipping your ear lobe.

“Good, I’m taking you for a scarification tomorrow. My name, right above your penis.”

“Hmm,” Joel was still planting kisses anywhere he could and you could feel his growing erection against your ass. It was getting really difficult to focus on the marinade in front of you. “I can meet you halfway and agree to get a tattoo.” You laughed but somehow imagined it. It would ruin any relationship for him if you two ever break up. “Only if you do the same, obviously.” He added.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

He hummed in answer and you felt his hand playing with the waistband of your sweatpants. But you slapped his hand away before he could slide it in. “Put your hands to other use for now. Cut the onions for me,” you playfully rubbed your ass against his crotch but only to push him away.

Joel let go of you and looked around to find the onions. “Wow. I like punishment but only if I know what I did wrong.”

You laughed before throwing two onions at him, which he almost missed. As he began to peel them off, you gently grabbed the knife from his hands and squeezed a lemon on the blade. Joel looked at you, lovingly. “There. You won’t cry.” You said, handing him the knife.

“Huh, we’ve been dating for a year and you’re only telling this trick, now? I thought you loved me.” He used his best complaining voice, and he felt your hand slamming against his ass.

“What will we talk about in ten years if I tell you everything now?” You casually asked and it caught Joel off guard. He stayed silent while cutting the onions in small squares and you didn’t push it. You focused on your marinade and checked on the steamed vegetables.

“Are you picturing us still together in ten years?” He finally asked once he was done. He gave you the bowl with the onions in it.

“Well—yeah. Don’t you?” You took the bowl from his hand, preparing the pan in order to cook them.

Joel sighed. It had been a struggle since you two started to date. Your relationship had been so perfect, you had been an amazing partner, it almost feels surreal to me. “I guess my marriage broke a part of me.” He paused, staring at you cooking. “It’s like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

As you ditched the onions in a hot pan, a soft smile appeared across your face. “That will happen when your alien friends will come to pick you up, in order to bring you back to your home planet.”

Joel couldn’t help but laugh. He couldn’t believe you were real. He stared for a moment. You are so beautiful, young, funny and smart, with the biggest heart. How did he got so lucky?

He jumped on the part of the kitchen plan you weren’t using. “Or when I got so fat from your cooking, you’re not attracted to me anymore.” He finally said and you stopped everything you were doing.

“…what?”

“I gained a few pounds lately.” He confessed, avoiding your eyes this time.

“Yeah so?”

“Oh so you’re agreeing? Not even something like ‘honey that’s crazy, you haven’t changed a bit.’?”

"I'm sorry. Let me do this again.” You took a step back and got into character. “Joel! Are you crazy? You didn’t gain any pounds. Are those masculine magazines making you feel bad, again?”

“Wow. Don’t quit your day job to become an actress.”

You playfully punched his shoulder and he let out an “ouch!”. “But seriously love,” it was your loving and smoothing tone again. “Do you really feel bad about this?”

“Kinda. I’m already older than you, I can’t have that too.”

“Baby,” you settled between his legs and tiptoed to kiss him softly. “You’re perfect to me. I don’t care about your age, your weight, your height, the size of your—okay that, I do care but still.”

Never a woman made him laugh like you manage to. No matter the subject, the time of the day, his mood or your mood, you’re always able to bring a smile to his face. He’s so in love with you. “Do you get my point or do I have to take you upstairs to show it to you?” You stroked his beard and Joel leaned into your touch, humming in content.

“I won’t mind the show. But I’d rather have you showing me—here.”

“I better stop cooking and focus on my other hobby then.” You turned off everything and invited him to get down. “My favorite actually.” You whispered, before kissing him gently.

“Please do.” He pleaded, sticking out his tongue in order to meet yours.

As you kissed, you brought him against the wall of the kitchen. He moaned at your sudden dominance, and you felt his semi hard cock against your belly. Joel tried to travel under your tank top with his hands but you prevented him access. You quickly worked taking his tee-shirt off, throwing it on the floor. Your lips immediately crashed against his hairy chest, while your hands were softly caressing it. “I love you, Joel.” you whispered against his skin. “I love every part of you that you don’t.”

It was overwhelming. Never in his life has Joel felt this loved, this attractive. It was such a mix of feelings, he could have cried on the spot as well as fucked you senseless. But he only stood there, panting hard as you were taking his sweatpants and briefs off. He stepped out and you threw it away, next to his shirt. He was dying to undress you, to feel your smooth skin against his, but he knew better.

You kneeled in front of you, taking his hard member in your hand. You looked up to him with your big and loving E/C eyes. “You’re everything I’ve ever dreamt of,” you said. “Call me crazy but I’d follow you to your damn home planet.” you confess, referring to what you said a moment ago.

Joel intensely stared at your mouth when you gave him a first lick. This view was so damn perfect.

You teasingly played with your tongue against his cock before taking him in your mouth. Joel moaned, deeply and you sucked him for a moment, not taking all of his length yet. Your jaw needed to relax first. No matter the amount of time you’ve seen his cock, you’re always amazed about how thick and long he is.

Joel’s hand grabbed your hair bun into his fists, guiding you. When you were ready, you took all of him inside your mouth, your nose buried in his pubic hair. “Fuck, baby!” he growled as his cock hit the back of your throat. “God I love your mouth so much.”

You kept going for a moment until you felt his urge growing. Joel was basically facefucking you, thrusting his cock deep inside your mouth. But you weren’t done with him yet, so when only a trail of saliva was connecting you to his length, you took advantage and got back on your feet.

You passionately kissed him, allowing him to taste himself. “Sit on the chair.” You ordered him and Joel obeyed.

You striped in front of him as he was lazily stroking his painfully hard cock. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Y/N.” he said before you straddle his lap.

“So are you, Joel.” He almost didn’t catch that - maybe because a part of him didn’t want to - as you guided his cock into your wet cunt. He was stretching you open, it almost hurt but you kept going until he was fully inside you.

“So fucking tight.” he growled against your neck.

You settled for a slow pace at first. Joel’s face was buried in your chest, assaulting your rounded breasts. One of his hands was in the small of your back, following your hips movements. “You feel so good inside me.” you moaned, your hands buried in his hair. He was so deep inside you, you two almost could hear every time he reached your end. “I’ll never be able to be with anyone else but you.”

His urge was coming back and yours was building up. You quickened the pace, and Joel furiously rubbed your clit with his hand. “Yes Joel, right there!” he looked up at you and crashed his lips on yours. You could feel his fingers digging on your hip, while yours did the same on his scalp.

“I’m gonna cum.” he warned you, thrusting as fast as he could.

“Me, too. Don’t stop,”

“Never.”

It was a closed call but you came practically at the same time, both crying each other’s name.

You stayed in the same position as you and Joel came down from your high. You held him close against you, feeling his cock softening inside you. You were both panting. “Every part of me, huh?” he said.

“Every single one.”

[captcas]

illicit affairs

illicit affairs by capthamm

They’ve talked about it at nauseum, but it doesn’t make it any easier. The set-ups and glares from their friends at the constant “not interested”s. The fake first dates and the constant sneaking around… she wouldn’t trade a second of it.

part two of capthamm’s captain swan’s folklore read on ao3 / read the ao3 series / read invisible string

Hoping for any reprieve from the cold, Emma pulls down the ends of her ¾ length sleeves and tucks her fists into her elbows. Bouncing lightly on her toes she curses him under her breath, “Killian, where the fuck are you?” She turns to her left mid-pace and slams into something solid.

The overwhelmingly familiar scent of saltwater and vanilla body wash overcomes her.

Before she can think, two rough hands are grabbing her cheeks and she’s melting into a kiss that feels more like home with every second. All traces of the cold she was so desperate to rid herself of are forgotten, heat sinking to her bones.

When they come up for air Emma speaks first, “You’re late.”

She knows he probably has a good reason, but sometimes their situation makes her act childish.

Killian as chuckles softly, the warmth of his breath tickling her lips where she can still feel the remnants of his kiss. “I know, love. I’m sorry. Liam he–”

She cuts him off with a kiss, “I don’t care. How long do we have?”

His shoulders sag beneath her hands and she knows she isn’t going to like the answer. “Not long, darling.” He steps back, only a few inches, but enough for the chill to return ever so slightly. He brushes the hair out of her eyes and she can see the pain in his.

She hates this too.

They’ve talked about it at nauseum, but it doesn’t make it any easier. The set-ups and glares from their friends at the constant “not interested”s. The fake first dates and the constant sneaking around… she wouldn’t trade a second of it.

Liam had a strict no fraternizing among employee policies. He hired Emma on one condition– Killian was not allowed to fall in love with her. Liam made one fatal error in his offer that day– he didn’t account for the fact that Killian was already in love with Emma.

A loophole KJ points out to Emma every chance he gets.

A secret loophole they spend every single day in.

Their loophole.

Emma met Killian by pure coincidence. Ruby begged her to go to some charity gala and Emma went because she’s pretty sure she owed her one. Killian hating stuffy events as much as she did had them spending most of their night in the same corner… together. Everything after that felt like fate.

She had recently quit her bail bonds job (a skip kicked out one of her teeth and she did not get paid enough for dental surgery) and Killian’s brother was opening a new boat rental company. They needed an office manager and Emma talked up her stapling and faxing skills.

“Do people still use fax machines, Swan?”

“No but I still know how to use one… just in case.”

“Fair enough. For the record, if it were up to me, love, you’d start tomorrow.”

But it wasn’t up to Killian. Liam was guarded (protective) and didn’t like the idea of letting Emma into their small operation. It took four months of her sticking around before Liam even entertained the idea– Killian and her falling into a best friendship as though they’d known each other their whole lives.

Emma didn’t learn about Liam’s one condition until over a year after Killian called her telling her that she got the job.

He asked if she wanted to grab drinks after work and one shot led to another. Soon they were spilling their darkest secrets, both of them blushing when they admitted growing feelings for one another, and Liam’s ultimatum sort of slipped out.

Emma found the loophole.

Now here they are next to a dumpster in the middle of November hoping Liam doesn’t have some huge change of character and actually take the garbage out for once in his life. They’ve never discussed what happens if– when– they get caught.

Emma moved her way up to an event manager and Killian is officially a partner– Liam touting that Killian has to fight for what he wants despite every single one of their clients and friends knowing Killian would be there in no time. They’re both killing it professionally and a lot of that thanks goes to Liam, but their schedules are completely opposite one another.

They don’t have to be, but complaining about it would mean telling Liam about the loophole.

Their loophole.

Them.

And they just aren’t ready to do that… right?

He kisses her one more time, “I’ll come over tonight, love.” Emma nods before pulling herself tight to his chest, letting go only when she feels his Apple Watch buzz against her hip signaling his impending meeting.

She isn’t sure when the official shift happened, but she’ll never forget the first moment she laid eyes on Killian. Something in her gut told her to walk towards him and sit in the empty chair beside him. (Maybe there never really was a shift.) She’s let her gut lead them the rest of the way to where they are now.

Her gut tells her they should come clean.

She doesn’t want to listen this time. As much as sneaking around gets old, Emma’s always held her cards close to her chest. The fear that opening up their relationship to the rest of the world will ruin it is so tangible that it drives Emma to keep up their charade.

Just a bit longer.

Killian has insinuated that he’s following her lead– even offering to march into Liam’s office and confess it all on multiple occasions– but Emma’s not ready.

She’s not ready to risk losing him.

Emma heads up a few minutes after Killian and catches his eye as she enters the small office. He smiles softly and the ache for more is palpable.

She’s not going to lose him.

This moment, one of a million stolen glances between the two of them, isn’t unlike any other, but it brings her an epiphany all the same. Somewhere in the routine of secrecy, Emma grew comfortable, but suddenly it feels like 1,000 needles are pricking every inch of her skin. The comfort vanished and with it came a wave of realization, no matter what Liam says, Killian isn’t going anywhere.

Her feet move before her brain can tell her it's a bad idea. Killian is talking to Liam about the upcoming rental schedule when Emma walks into their shared office, “The Larson’s are taking out the Roger on Tues– Emma, what’re you–” She interrupts him with a kiss for the second time today.

Emma can tell he’s stunned at first but it doesn’t take long for him to smile and kiss back. She probably kisses him longer than appropriate due to the actual fear of what Liam is going to do– technically any kiss is inappropriate but that’s not really the point.

Killian breaks from the kiss first.

“Finally.”

The voice is British, but it isn’t the one she'd recognize in a crowd of thousands.

Killian breaks first again, “Pardon?”

“Bloody took you two long enough! I’ve lost enough money on Ruby’s blasted pools.” Liam points a rolled up piece of paper, previously tucked beneath his armpit, “Just keep it PG at work. I don’t need some HR nightmare.”

Emma is still stunned when Killian speaks again, “Brother…”

Liam looks up, and Emma could swear his eyes are slightly glossy, “Killian, who am I to keep you two apart? Company policies shouldn’t come between what could be a real second chance at love for you both. It’s been painfully obvious you two are into each other. I’m just glad you’re finally acting on it so I don’t have to watch you make eyes from across the office all day.”

Emma flinches at Liam’s casual mention of their pasts, but soon her hand is in Killian’s and she’s reminded her demons can’t hurt her anymore. She beat them, she’s stronger than them, and she shares them now.

It’s then that she finds her voice, “Thank you.”

Liam nods (the only sort of affirmation she’s ever received from the older of the Jones brothers), “Don’t mention it. Just tell Ruby it happened yesterday, then at least she won’t win.” Emma nods in response, and can’t help but glance up at Killian– every trace of pain in his eyes has been replaced with what Emma can only describe as love.

She’s sure her eyes are mirroring his perfectly.

As it turns out, glances are even better not stolen and lunch breaks are much more enjoyable spent far away from dumpsters and cold parking lots.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter one: welcome home

chapter one of book four, mind you~

i decided to post it now because why the hell not?

"out on the wily, windy moors, we'd roll and fall in green. you had a temper like my jealousy, too hot, too greedy. how could you leave me when i needed to possess you? i hated you, i loved you, too." -"wuthering heights", kate bush

Marla closed the hatch at the back of her rental car, and she turned to Sam. The hot California sun beat down on both of their heads. The trees were already changing from healthy green to an autumnal yellow despite it being the middle of summer. The soil underneath them and the low sparsely forested foothills around them yearned for rain, and she kept her gaze fixated on the glass front door up the walkway from her.

It felt like forever since Sam had been to Lake Elsinore and what better way than to genuinely live by the lake as she began her senior project. Everything was as dry as a bone, and Marla's own caress upon her upper arms meant that the dryness would in fact persist throughout. Sam tucked her free hand into one pocket and she could feel the edge of the paper against her skin.

“God, I know it's hot but I feel it getting cold soon, though,” Marla confessed.

“That's the West Coast for you,” Sam told her. “The assumption is always one of 'oh, it's always so hot in California—surprised it doesn't catch fire more.' But it's actually cold and dry here, though. It's not like New York where you guys have the lakes and the Gulf Stream nearby.”

“By the way, did you tell Aurora?” Marla asked her.

“I did,” Sam replied, but she realized that she never did tell Aurora that she was going out to California over the summer, especially since she was due to give birth to her baby any day at that point. She never told her when she would be coming back, either. That is if she ever came back. Bill still never elaborated on what she was to do out there in the Golden State, even on the flight over from New York. If anything, he was awful quiet the whole way, especially with Marla right next to her on in that single row of seats.

Marla herself meanwhile had kept the black hair from the winter months, however she changed the electric blue streak to one of electric pink, and she added a second streak on the opposite side of her head as well. She tucked a single strand behind her ear right then.

“I can't believe you're actually here,” she confessed.

“I can't, either,” Sam said with a raise of her eyebrows. “But the boys are all up the road, though. If I find the time, I'll drive up there and at the very least visit Cliff.”

“That's definitely a must. Your couch is still stashed at my apartment, by the way. You know, when you moved in with me, you had to stash that thing. I might just keep it.”

“Hey, it's a comfy couch, you might as well. And I might be back come Christmas, who knows?”

“Miss Shelley?” Bill called from the front door right then. Sam raised her eyebrows at him.

“What's up?” she called out to him. He hurried out of the front door with something flat tucked underneath his arm.

“Hey, that's right, yeah,” Marla said with a nod.

“I don't know why I keep thinking it's going to be like forever,” Sam confessed, “I think it's the whole 'pick up and move across the country' kinda thing, to be honest.”

“I think it is, too,” Marla agreed, “going that far and being far away this whole entire time, you get kind of final in your thoughts.” He skidded to a stop before them as the words left her lips. He clicked a pen and showed Sam the clipboard with a blank white sheet of paper upon it.

“What's this?” she asked him.

“I'm gonna need you to sign this,” he told her as he pointed at the line underneath the edge of the blank paper. “It's an agreement to show that you are in fact out here with me.”

“Why didn't we do this before we left, though?” she asked him with a frown.

“I just forgot,” he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. “It's okay, though—I have a fax machine inside. I can send it off to the school with ease!”

Sam glanced over at Marla, whose face fell and she fetched up a sigh through her nose all the while. She then nibbled on her bottom lip out of fretting. But on the other hand, she was back in Lake Elsinore and within range of the Los Angeles area if she so wished. She had lived here before. She was a day's drive from the San Francisco Bay Area, and a day's drive from her parents' house.

She could still taste Joey on her lips. The tears in those brown eyes. The feeling of his soft slender little body against her own. He vowed to call her, as long as she got to call him first by the time she had been settled in with Bill there at the house.

All of her art supplies with her. All of her clothes with her. She could still feel Zelda's embrace as well. She didn't want to leave it behind her, but she was sure that it was only for that year. A year felt like forever in those terms however.

But she signed on the dotted regardless of her fears and her reluctance.

No sooner had she added a little loop at the bottom of the “y” in her last name of Shelley when he lifted the page for her again.

“And there,” he said with a point to the bottom of the page. Sam sighed through her nose and she did it right then and there. Marla sniffled but Sam knew it was from the dryness all around them.

“Excellent!” he declared and he returned to the house with the clipboard tucked under his arm. Sam and Marla glanced at one another; the former noticed the look of bewilderment upon her face.

“What's the matter?” Sam asked her, to which Marla leaned closer to her face so they could keep it between the both of them.

“There was just something off about that,” she replied. “Don't you think so?”

“How so?”

“I dunno. Just—kind of—off. Like something about that didn't sit too well with me.”

“Come inside and make yourselves at home,” Bill called from the front door again.

“In my case, for the time being,” Marla added as the two of them walked on inside of the spacious foyer; to the right stood a carpeted stairwell which led up to the second and third floors up above. Before them was the foyer which led to the kitchen and to the left stood the vast but warm lit dining room with a long table. Bill himself had gone off somewhere inside of that house.

“This place is like a mansion,” Sam noted.

“Yeah. Definitely not something you see on a teacher's salary, either. Especially an adjunct collegiate professor, too.” Marla looked over at her again. “See what I mean when I say there's just something off about this whole thing?”

“Sort of. We'll have to see more of it soon enough to come to a conclusion, though.”

Bill then returned to the two of them with a glass of dark liquid in each hand.

“Iced tea for my guest and—my mentee,” he declared. He then ran his fingers through his blond hair and his face lit up. “By the way, did you get those letters of recommendation signed and sealed, Marla?”

“Yeah...” she replied with a bit of hesitance. “Belinda and I got it all done in like April, two months early.” He turned his attention to the small table right next to him, and she chuckled right then. “It was funny. We were sitting in the library doing the rest of them and she was like 'I dunno if I can do the rest of these joint, Marla.' And I was like, 'don't tell you haven't written letters of recommendation before, Bel!' And she goes, 'I have, just not with another person.' And I told her, 'well, it's not like we're screwing each other, Bel—just gotta write them up real quick by the template. Nothing to it.' Took us all day, but still!”

Sam chuckled at that, but Bill was silent the whole entire time she talked about that. Instead, he kept his attention fixed on the sheet of paper under his fingers.

“So you looking over what I have to do while I'm out here?” Sam asked him as she sipped on her iced tea.

“Yeah—quite a bit you have to do.”

“Well, can I at least see it?”

“Not with Marla here,” he pointed out with a raise of his head, to which Sam frowned at that.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I told her about my senior project when it was going down this past school year,” Marla recalled, and he raised his eyebrows at her.

“Seriously.”

“Yeah. What's—what's wrong with that?”

He nibbled on his bottom lip, curt.

“When does your flight leave, Marla?”

“Well, I was thinking of getting Sam settled in here and then taking her out to dinner down the hill.”

“There's hardly any time for that,” he said with a straight face.

“Yes, there is.”

“Yeah, she's taking the red eye, Bill,” Sam assured him. “It's gonna be fine.”

“You're not working, are you?” he asked Marla with a slight raise of an eyebrow. She knitted her eyebrows together at that.

“Why does that matter?”

“You don't have any money.”

“I have some. Not a lot. I'm expecting my grant some time this week which will cover my rent. And I am looking for a job, too.” Marla gaped at him. “You—do realize this, right? Like, I'm not a free loader, right?”

“Never said you were,” he pointed out.

“But you're implying it, though,” Marla pointed out.

“Oh, Miss Taylor, you couldn't be further from the truth.”

“No, that's exactly what you're implying here. You see me here with Sam like I'm some kind of free loader. Well, I'm here to help her move in with you.”

“Once again, you couldn't be further from the truth. She's not moving in with me—she's staying here with me.”

“Yes, she's moving in with you!” Marla insisted.

“Don't miss that flight,” he told her in a singsong tone.

Sam and Marla glanced at one another, puzzled. “What flight?” the former asked him.

“The next one. Before we left the airport, I noticed that the next one to New York leaves in about one hour. You want to find work, don't you, Miss Taylor?”

“Well, yeah. But I still want to help her, though. And there will be more flights, too. I hope.”

“Yeah, I don't think there's a red eye tonight.” He showed her a thin lipped smile, and Marla shifted her weight in that spot on the floor. Sam looked over at her with her mouth slightly parted. Without another moment's hesitation, Marla drank down the iced tea in four large gulps. She lowered the glass and showed her tongue to Sam. The grimace on Marla's face made her realize that the iced tea was terrible.

“Don't miss that flight,” he told her in a singsong tone. Marla then turned to Sam with tears in her eyes. This whole entire time, she believed that Aurora was her best friend, but Marla had taken that crown from her in the past several months as they moved in together and attended school together. She even helped her dye her hair! Marla threw her arms around her and held her close. Sam had her chin rested upon her shoulder, just like how she embraced Joey.

Marla held back a bit to say something right into her ear.

“If you need anything at all, call me,” she said to her in a low voice, “or Bel. We can't do much—especially her because she went up to Albany last week—but we both can be shoulders to cry on, though.”

“Or Zelda,” Sam suggested.

“Oh, yeah, Zelda will definitely be happy to hear your voice. Anything at all. Rain or shine, day or night, doesn't matter. Call one of us if you need anything at all.”

“Okay.” Marla embraced her again.

“I love you,” she whispered into her ear.

“I love you, too,” Sam whispered back.

Marla squeezed her a little bit before she let her go and then she walked on out of there. The last time Sam would be seeing Marla and that pink stripe upon her head; indeed, Sam sniffled and she brushed away a tear as Marla climbed into the rental car. She stood there in the doorway to see her off; before she started up the car, Marla turned her head into her direction and formed a heart shape with both hands over her chest. Sam set her glass of iced tea down on the floor next to her feet and she returned the favor: even from the doorway, she could see the tears in her friend's eyes.

She wasn't ready to let her go as of yet. But Marla returned to the steering wheel and she started up the car.

Sam saw her off up the street, and she even stayed there for a couple more minutes after Marla turned the corner and disappeared behind the trees.

A brand new chapter, at least for the time being. Sam knew she would be back in New York some day. When that some day came was another question, however.

“Alright, Miss Shelley,” Bill started, still in a curt tone. She fetched up another sigh and she picked up the glass of iced tea from the floor, and she took a sip from it. She winced at the overly sweet taste and the fact that he hadn't used fresh tea at all. The pale, washed out beige color was right in her face after all.

Sam turned around and there, on either side of Bill, stood two little girls. The same two little towheaded blonde twin girls she remembered from that photograph in his office back at the school. The girl on the right had a big blue ribbon bow that tied up her blonde hair upon the crown of her head, while the one on the left had a birthmark shaped like a crescent moon on her cheek.

“Oh!” she said as she held the glass closer to her chest.

“Yes.” He set a hand on either of their shoulders.

“You must be Matilda and Cassandra,” she started in a friendly tone.

“Mattie and Cassie,” he corrected her. “Mattie to the right here with the bow in her hair, and Cassie to the left with the birthmark on her face.”

“Mattie and Cassie, pardon me,” she said.

“Are you our mommy now?” Mattie asked her with her finger up to her lip.

Sam stopped.

“Why would I be your mommy?” she asked her, confused.

“Daddy said he was bringing home a new mommy,” Mattie replied, and Sam knitted her eyebrows together at that.

And then it dawned on her. Marla's hunches were right. She looked up at Bill, who never changed his expression from a cold smile. Sam shook her head.

“While you are out here with me,” he began in a low voice, “you must help me raise these two girls given their birth mother is not around. You must pose as my new wife.”

“Wait. You're telling me—part of the assignment is to feign marriage? That sounds so illegal.”

“It actually isn't. And it's not part of the assignment, either—this is what it is. Remember part of the paperwork I made you sign when we first got here? The one that was tucked under that piece of paper as you were conversing with Marla?”

“Those two pieces of paper on the clipboard? Those two thing you made me sign while—she and I were talking—and when we first got here?” Sam gaped at him. He had duped her, and now she was out there in California, with no escape. She was now responsible for raising Matilda and Cassandra alongside him.

She should have listened to those gut feelings while he told her about it in his office back in New York. She should have listened to her own intuition, in how the whole thing left her unsettled.

“What're you going to do for the school, though?” she demanded. “What're you going to do for money?”

“I was in an adjunct position, Miss Shelley,” he explained, “those positions are expendable and that school is understaffed, too. When they're abandoned, they find a way to fill it in. As for money—don't worry about it. I'm still on the payroll there and have been, even after they—fired—me. They are so incompetent that they didn't even take me off the payroll.” That word of which he mouthed.

She balled her free hand into a fist, but it was apparent that he didn't care. Not even in the very least. And this was a side to him that she hadn't seen before, at least not when she was at the school. Or perhaps it was because every time she saw him took place at the school, thus he had to hide this side to him.

“Welcome home,” he told her with a cold smile and a sinister tone to his voice. She grimaced at that as he stepped out of there and into the hallway. “Your room is upstairs, remember. By the way.”

Sam fumed at him as he led those two girls out of there. She had no clue who she was more furious at, herself for having fallen into his trap, or Bill for being so insidious with it all. But the only thing she could do was go up to the loft on the third floor, where Marla had helped move her things to.

She turned to the stairwell beneath her and she looked down at the glass of awful iced tea. Silence downstairs, which meant he wouldn't hear her.

“You—fucking asshole,” she blurted out. “You fucking scumbag! You mother fucker!” She chucked the glass down to the bottom of the stairs and it shattered against the wall, right next to his room no less. He was out of range at that point, and all Sam could do was drop down to the edge of the bed with her face buried in her hands.

She wasn't ready to be married yet, not with Joey not knowing about it. She lay back on the bed when the tears welled up even more. He had fooled her. He had fooled her!

She left everything behind only for him to fool her into it!

And indeed, those finalistic thoughts weren't so finalistic after all. She was officially married to him, and Matilda and Cassandra were her stepdaughters from that point onward. Nothing she could do about it at that point.

She rolled over onto her side and buried her face into the top cover on the bed. She didn't want to be seen, even with Bill out of the room.

 * * * * *

 And thus, she found herself at the shore of the small lake before her, and she wondered where things had gone wrong. The glassy waters were nothing like the lake north of Syracuse, or one of the Finger Lakes for that matter.

The whole ordeal left her mind a complete mess. Her heart torn into separate pieces. She came to the conclusion that those three years in which she lived in New York were her perceived peak. Never going back to those days ever again after this.

She wanted Joey but she also wanted Alex, especially with her being so close to the San Francisco Bay Area at that point. But at the same time, she couldn't entirely put the blame on Bill. He wanted her out there for a reason and her studious nature at school and the fact she always came like clockwork made her appeal to him in the vein of a mother. If anything, it was her fault that she didn't ask more questions.

But also at the same time, however, he led her into it all. He led her on. He made her believe that those two girls were in good hands with their birth mother, but apparently, he had better things to do for himself. She gazed on at the photographs of Joey and Alex in her fingers.

“So much for standing up for myself,” she muttered as she gazed on at their faces nestled in between her fingers. “I need to get the hell out of here. I need to get out of here and figure out how to null it.”

She was alone at that point, anyway, which meant she could in fact call Marla. The inspiration had run dry a bit on that hot afternoon anyway; thus she closed her journal and she climbed off of the rock and began back up the pathway to the house. One of the things she had up in her room was a large bookcase, and one of the books on the shelves was Wuthering Heights. She would have to read that book at some point in the future, or perhaps she could do it that evening after she made the phone call back to the apartment in Hell's Kitchen.

“What the—actual fuck,” Marla sputtered; Sam could hear the fury in her voice. “What do you mean you're legally married to him?”

“I'm legally married to him,” Sam said in a low voice as she sat there on the edge of her bed with the cordless in her ear. “Remember those two things he made me sign when you and I were out on the sidewalk?”

“Yeah?”

“The first thing was a nuptial agreement. The other thing I signed was a prenup, too, because—this is a big house and he's got his fingers in some pies, too. Because I'm here with nothing now.” She folded her right arm across her chest and sighed through her nose. “You were right, Marla. There was something off about the whole thing. The big house, the hidden papers he made me sign... it was all in plain sight, really. Like that—fucking trash iced tea he made for us.”

“Well, if I'm honest, here was nothing we could do at that point, though. We were already there and you've really got no way back, either, especially now. And yeah, that iced tea was horrible. Probably the worst I've ever had in my life.”

“How's Bel doing?” Sam asked.

“She's loving Albany right now. She told me she could probably get me a job up there, but—who knows, really. And I don't really want to leave Hell's Kitchen, you know? I was born here and I grew up here. For me, a city girl, to be upstate, even with my other best friend—it just—it's hard.”

“Right, right. It'd be cool, though. You know I was wanting an escape from New York for a bit, but sometimes a mere change of pace is all you need. It's why I was so eager to leave the Bronx and move in with you in Hell's Kitchen.”

“And New York's a big city, too. If you can't find something here, something is wrong.”

Sam glanced down at the floor boards underneath her. She knew that those mountains got cold in the winter time, and the cold would come for them soon enough: she foresaw those bare wooden boards feeling as cold as ice at some point during those months.

“Genie misses you, by the way,” Marla told her.

“God, I miss her, too. How's she doing?”

“She's right here next to me on the couch getting pets. She's also purring, like loudly. You know, that big loud contented purr she likes to do with us. Last night, she curled up behind my legs and never moved at all. It wasn't even that cold last night, either.”

Sam sighed through her nose. All those days in which the two of them returned home and Genie always ran up to them with a loud contented purr from inside of her throat, and her black fur as soft as ever. She always seemed to get softer with each and every day they both stepped through the door.

“Also, Aurora finally—literally finally—gave birth to her babies,” Marla added with a clearing of her throat.

“Wait.” Sam stopped right in her tracks and she shuffled her feet right underneath her at the sound of that. “Babies? Babies, are you serious? She had more than one?”

“Yeah, twins. Two girls—half Korean half—whatever the hell Emile is. I forget their names, though, like Aurora told me this morning but I wasn't properly paying attention. I kept thinking, you know—it's about time. Really, it's about time, too, she was getting massive that last week, and they were big, too. And this whole entire time I thought she was due in the middle of June, but the dumb idiot Emile was about a month off. Can't even do math right.”

“Oh, my god!” Sam brought a hand to her mouth.

“Yeah, I took a Polaroid of her literally moments before her water broke. She posed for me and it looked like she ate two of the biggest watermelons you could find at the supermarket. She was huge, Sam. Just gargantuan. If and when I get to see you again, I'll show you because I told Frankie about it, because they hadn't seen her in months, either. And he was like 'no way!' I went to their place just the other day to see how things were going and it's absolute chaos over there, like I left after not even five minutes. Neither of them were prepared for a family of four. And they want more, too! She told me she loves being pregnant and she can't wait to get knocked up again and again. It's just crazy.”

She chuckled and then she fell silent again for a moment. Sam knew what was on her mind right then.

“I have no idea what I'm going to do, Sam,” she confessed to her in a near whisper. “I mean, it's barely August, and I finally got my grant in the mail, too. But I'm sure you know. Grants don't last forever.”

“Oh, yeah, and school's about to start again soon, too. Did you find a job, though?”

“Not yet. Like I said Bel might find me something but I'm not holding my breath, though. I might just go work at the school, who knows, really.”

And then Sam remembered what he told her. “Yes, go work at the school and tell someone that Bill doesn't work there anymore. If nothing, take his place so he loses money.”

“I'd have to get my teaching credential, though.”

“Yes, but they're understaffed, though. If they lack people, they've got to take you. At least that's what he told me about adjunct positions. He also got fired some time ago but stayed on the payroll. I'm guessing he just saved like hell and he was able to afford this house and why he made me sign a prenup, too. If you go to work there, maybe you can point it out to someone there. Like 'hey, Bill hasn't worked here in some time, why is he still on the payroll?' And you can not only go to work there but you can inadvertently take his money, too.”

Marla fell silent again, and that time for a whole entire minute.

“Are you there, Marla?��� Sam asked in a small voice.

“Never left,” Marla replied. “I'm putting my shoes on. I will run down there if I have to.”

Sam held the cordless in between her shoulder and the side of her face, and she clapped her hands at that.

“Oh, my god, thank you so much!”

“Hey, you're my best friend, my roommate, and my fellow artist. At this point in our friendship, Sam, I will literally take a bullet for you. And—I'm a New York girl to boot, too. I'm not gonna let any slippery mother fucker screw over you like that.”

Sam clasped a hand to her brow and she pinched her eyes shut to hold back the tears of joy. To think it wasn't that long ago she wanted Charlie for herself out of spite to Marla, but now her support of her fellow female artists had come to fruition even more so now than ever.

“But wait, isn't the school closed, though?” Sam stopped right then.

“Not today, no. It's Monday. Campus closes at eight and it's five thirty right now. It's almost dinner time for most of the counselors there so I gotta hustle.”

“Oh, yeah, that's right. And Matilda and Cassandra started elementary school already.”

“Shit. Started school right in the middle of summer, that sucks. When we were in school, Bel and I didn't even start until around Labor Day.”

“Yeah, me, too. Oh, and by the sound of it, he's using those girls, too. For all I know, they haven't even seen their mom. Like right after you left, they came out and had this blank look on their face like they were spooked.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Marla groaned, and a soft rustling emerged on her end. “Yeah, I'm gonna get my ass down there right now.”

“Thank you, Marla. Thank you so much!”

“Talk to you soon—” Marla vowed, and then she hung up right there. Sam wiped away another tear from her eye. As long as Joey didn't find out about this, then she would be fine. She pictured Marla running as fast as she could down the block to the school, with her jet black hair streamed behind her, that pink stripe strong and high to indicate her speed. She pictured her catching someone at the door as well; even though Bill had nudged her a bit there at the house the other day, she knew that Marla could convince someone there. Belinda persisted with stained glass, even though it fell through with Sam, but she persisted anyway.

These New York girls knew how to get it done when it came to a good friend.

She bowed her head and sighed through her nose.

She didn't feel like drawing. Even though there wasn't hardly anything to eat in the pantry downstairs, she was hungry. But if nothing more, she had to head into town for a quick errand to the supermarket about three blocks from there. She knew she had to make a call to Eric and Testament's fan club to say that she had changed addresses, but first things were first however.

She then remembered that they had put out that new album, The New Order, back in the beginning of May, and he announced it to her on her birthday as well. She thought about how Aurora made Alex's birthday all about herself all the while. That felt different to her however, because Eric announced the album to her for being a loyal part of their fan club. Aurora's announcement came with everyone crowding around her while Alex ate his cake right there next to her.

She slipped on her shoes, and picked up her purse, and headed back outside to the California sun as it dried out the trees and everything else around her even more. It was warm but at least the heat waves had held off for the time being. Her dark hair waved behind her head in the gentle breeze; even though it could be far worse with the warmth, the sun's intense rays bore down upon the side of her head and her shoulder to where she swore she dried out with the pines around her.

And she knew that she had to hurry back home soon enough in time for Mattie and Cassie to return home. She figured it would be best to grab some snacks for those girls along the way as she stepped into the cool market: she had technically become their mom now, after all.

She found herself a bottle of lemonade and a pre-wrapped sandwich from the freezer, and two bags of chips from the rack, all for her. She knew that she would be up for another dismal dinner with Bill at the helm of the table, but she hadn't eaten since the girls left for school that morning.

Sam finally fetched a basket from the front of the market given she was finding so much food already, for herself and for the two of them. He could starve for all she cared, especially since Marla was about to take his money in the most roundabout way possible. She returned to the snack aisle at the far end there, and at the far end stood a tall man with long wavy black hair down to his waist. He had a fresh tattoo of a spider web and another one of a skull on his left shoulder, but she recognized him from the far end of the aisle as he looked on at all the chips and the jars of salsa. After her experience with Stormtroopers of Death and Anthrax, she knew that when an album dropped, they headed out on tour in order to promote it, so to see him there felt like a dream of sorts.

“Chuck?” she said aloud, and he lifted his head and turned in the opposite direction to the coolers on the far wall there.

He then turned to her with a puzzled look on his face.

“Hey, Chuck!” Sam called out, and he wheeled around for a look back at her. He nodded at her and flashed her a smile. She hurried over to him and he extended an arm to her.

“Hey, there's our girl,” he declared as she came within earshot. “Little Sammich.” She put both arms around him.

“What's going on?” she asked him with a peer up into his face. “I thought you guys were on tour!”

“We're on break right now,” he explained. “We go back out in a couple of weeks with our pals from Overkill, though.” His expression then turned serious. “You have a different address now, that's right.”

“Yeah.”

“You got anything to write on? I'll run it by Eric when I see him in a bit.”

“Not on me right at the moment, no. I just came here for some things real quick.”

“Do you have anything to write with?” he asked her.

“Yes! I have a couple of pens in my purse.”

“Okay. When we get up front, I'll find something to write on.” He turned his attention to the jars of salsa on the shelf behind her. “What salsa do you think I should get? The one with corn and black beans, or the straight up tomato?”

“Corn and black beans. Sounds heartier.”

“Agreed.” He nodded at her and took a jar off of the shelf, and she giggled.

“What?”

“You just look funny taking salsa off of the shelf there and asking me about it.”

“Why? 'Cause of the tattoos and the hair?” Chuck ran his fingers through his wavy hair at that and showed her a little smile, complete with little apple cheeks as well. Sam kept on giggling at that, and then he led her back to the front of the market.

“Are you done, by the way?” he asked her.

“Um—” She turned to the shelf at the end there, and she took a couple of bags of cheese crackers for the girls. She had no idea what those girls liked, but it was a start from that point onward.

“Okay,” she said, and that brought a laugh out of him. They reached the first line and Chuck stepped back and put out one arm to beckon her in first.

“Why, thank you, Mr. Gentleman,” she told him, and she began to check out there in front of him. Once she had it all paid for with some of what money she had in her wallet, she stepped off to the side and awaited him at the wall. The sun beat down on the back of her head and she knew that school had to be out at any given moment.

“By the way, you got a couple of pieces of paper nearby?” Chuck asked the fluffy haired cashier, who searched about the spot for one. And then she handed a pair of small white sheets of paper to him. Once he thanked her, he handed one of them to Sam, who then used her free hand to take out her pen from her purse. For a moment, she had forgotten her new address but then she wrote it down with a bit of speed.

She also wrote “the big house by the lake” right next to it in parentheses; and she handed it over to Chuck, who had written down an unfamiliar number on that other piece of paper.

“That's our management's number,” he told her as he handed over the paper, and she exchanged with him.

“The big house by the lake,” she said, and he chuckled at that note.

“I should also give you my number, too, seeing as this is my neck of the woods,” he added as he scribbled another number that she didn't recognize, and then he handed it to her. “Remember, if you need anything, call me. Or call Tiff, or Eric, or any one of us. We'll come for you. Anything you want. You're not just our first member of the fan club, but you're a friend to us now.”

“That's hell of a long drive, though,” she pointed out. “It's like the times Joey would drive from upstate down to New York City.”

“It's alright—really, it's alright, Sam. We're all from California, we know this whole entire place like the backs of our hands. And people here do it all the time, driving from the San Francisco Bay Area to Los Angeles, and for work, too.”

The line inched ahead and Sam bowed closer to the door. Chuck was right behind her the whole entire time as she headed outside to the small square parking lot. He put his sunglasses back on and then turned to her. Right there, with the sun on the side of his face, he actually resembled to a true Native American chief, even without a headdress upon his head.

“In fact, you know what?” he started again.

“What's that?” she asked as she held her groceries down near her knees.

“Our friends Death Angel are playing a show down here some time next week in promo for their new album. Tiff and I'll come get you and we'll go see them together. The three of us and—I think Alex is gonna be with us, too. I'll have to ask him.”

“Okay!” Her face lit up at the sound of Alex's name. “Um—what time is it gonna be?”

“Seven o'clock. I think? That's what Mark told me.” She thought about Aurora and her encounter with Mark before her wedding. Like a distant memory at that point, especially with her there, three thousand miles away, clear across the country.

“House by the lake you said?” he asked her.

“Yeah. It's three stories and literally down by the water, too. You'll know it when you see it.”

“Okay.”

She threw her arms around him and he returned the favor.

“There will be more hugs in the future,” he vowed to her. Without another word, they parted ways and she doubled back down the street to the house in question.

With every step along the way, therein lay one thing she didn't understand with Bill and his status at the school, and how he found his way to convince the dean and the higher faculty that Sam had come with him. Perhaps he fooled them along the way as well.

Marla helped move the desk into that third floor, which meant that no matter what happened over the course of the next year or so, she could continue on with her art. All the time in the world without the girls nearby, and without Bill at the helm as well. All the art she could imagine for herself as she strode in through that heavy glass front door and into the vacant foyer. The girls still hadn't returned home, but she could leave the crackers in their bedroom however.

Sam padded up the stairs to the loft with her own food. Perhaps when Marla had a new job at the school, and Bill was released from payroll, she could in fact find her way back to school and back to New York in the end. That is, if Marla did in fact land a job there and Bill did in fact tell the truth to her. If nothing, Sam would relish her time alone and there by the lake, and in a place in which she had lived at no less.

“I'm pretty much done with school anyway,” she muttered to herself. Then again, there had to be a better venture out of there, even with those two little girls nearby. They weren't even her children, but she had to do something for them. Before she took her spot back on the edge of the bed, something stopped her right in her tracks.

She brought her attention to the desk on the far side of the room, to that one drawer.

She opened the drawer and still at the bottom was that piece of rice paper.

He was nearby her for real from that point onward. Alex was no longer a mere scrawl on a sheet of paper, but a mere day's drive.

If nothing else, Testament would serve as her escape as she smiled at his scribbled name for a moment before she closed the drawer.

[overheardatthecontinental]

Talk Chapter 14

AO3 LINK

The moment John reaches the city line, he turns on his phone. Yet again, he is met with a cacophony of vibrations as his phone loads with the unread messages that have accumulated over the past twelve or so hours.

He waits until the barrage has ended before hitting the speed dial option that will bring him directly to the Continental. He orders a day room to set up shop, as well as a request for the technician to start researching DeLuca’s mother.

He’s transferred to Winston long enough to find out the name of Mateo’s mother. Winston barely gets a sentence out before John has said a goodbye.

When he is done, he dials Sofia.

It’s already evening in Morocco and he can hear loud music in the background when she answers.

“You’re lucky I’m picking up considering you don’t answer any of your texts.” She says loudly, over the pulsing rhythm.

John feels his lips twitch at the annoyance in her tone. “Been busy.”

“So I’ve heard.” The background noise gets quieter and he hears the sound of a door closing. “Rumor has it, you’re killing anybody even considering taking the Kingston contract.”

Good. While he doesn’t have the time to actually go ahead and kill every person seeking out Helen, he wants anybody considering her contract to think twice.

“Hearing many rumors in Casablanca?”

“Oh, you went global , John. Everybody everywhere is talking about it.”

John sighs at that and shakes his head, “Is there really nothing more interesting happening anywhere?”

“I’ll break it down for you because I know you’ve had a lot of head injuries: everybody looks at you like a monk. You don’t date. You don’t fuck around. Everybody just kind of assumed you were celibate. I've even heard rumors that you made a deal with the devil to be powerful at the cost of giving up sex.”

“Then, a contract goes wide. Some woman no one’s ever heard of. Never set foot in the Underworld yet seems to have a connection to John Wick. Everybody waits for a response. Only you disappear off the map for twenty-four hours. And nobody can actually find Helen Kingston.”

“Then, you resurface and start killing anyone who’s even looked at the Kingston contract. So, no, John. There really isn’t anything more interesting happening anywhere.”

John lets out a breath.

This, he realizes, is quickly becoming his newest fear. That even if, somehow, he can get them both out alive, he’s going to have to face the rest of the Underworld.

He’d warned Helen before he left that he still had enemies. Ones far worse than DeLuca. The Syndicate heir was ambitious, but DeLuca truly didn’t care whether Helen lived or died. Others would. Others would make it their mission to make her suffer just to see how John would react.

She was already trapped in ways she couldn’t possibly understand and that terrified him.

“But I take it you’re not calling to find out what the rumor mill is pelting in Casablanca.”

“No, I’m not.” John says, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he waits for the pedestrians to cross in front of him. “I need a favor. There’s a bottle of Romanee-Conti ’72 in it for you. Plus expenses.” He’s more than willing to give her a marker if that’s what this takes, but he has a feeling that the rare vintage plus the intrigue of it all will be enough to capture her attention.

“Color me intrigued. What’s the job?”

“The man who’s hired the hit on Helen is Mateo DeLuca of Syndicate. I have reason to believe his mother, Isabella DeLuca, is the one who is actually calling the shots. Only problem, she’s in Rome.”

Sofia hums, “Is she well-guarded?”

“I don’t know.” John answers honestly, “But I need her in New York yesterday.”

“An exchange. His mother for your girl?”

John drives on, inclining his head at the question, “I’m certain it won’t be that simple. But yes.”

Sofia hums and, again, he can hear her moving. The background noise increases slightly, “I can be to Rome in five hours.”

“Perfect. If you can get her when she’s going to bed—”

“No one will be the wiser until morning. This isn’t my first extraction, John.”

He nods to himself because of course it isn’t .

He isn’t a micromanager. He never has been, but the stakes have never been quite like this before.

“You care if she’s bruised?”

John considers it.

He typically liked to keep things as clean as possible. He didn’t do extractions or espionage or anything else that called for more tact and forethought than a bullet to the head.

But Isabella DeLuca was the force behind Mateo. Arguably, the force behind Helen’s abduction.

“Not in the slightest.” He says finally, “Although I don’t expect she’ll put up much of a fight. She’s a bureaucrat.”

Sofia groans, “I prefer it when they fight. Bureaucrats just whine.”

“I get it. I’ve spent more time dealing with politics the past few days than I have in my entire life.”

“Never thought I’d see the day where John Wick had to talk nice to people. Then again, never thought you were going to get your v-card punched, either.”

John rolls his eyes at Sofia’s ongoing joke. There wasn’t much else she could get on him but his decision to be largely celibate fascinated his friend. Truthfully, John didn’t think too much about sex or carnal pleasures. He didn’t prioritize fleeting experiences.

But then, the assassin’s voice softens, “How is she? Your girl. Does she understand what’s going on?”

John nods before remembering that Sofia can’t see him. “Yeah, she gets it. And she’s…” unbelievable. Ridiculous. Brave and clever and tougher than he ever gave her credit for, “In the past week, she’s been kidnapped, held hostage, and forced to go into hiding because half of New York is out to kill her. And despite all that, her biggest concern is that something could happen to me .”

It still boggles his mind.

“How long have you been together?”

He isn’t entirely sure how to answer that and there’s far too much to explain over the phone. He decides on, “It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?” She asks and John is glad that she isn’t going to chastise him for not knowing better. “Hang on.” He hears her switch languages to Arabic. While John isn’t fluent in that particular language, he knows enough to hear the word ‘airplane’. After a minute of back and forth, she is back on the phone, “I’m headed to the airport now. The concierge is finding a pilot as we speak.”

“Perfect.” John says with a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Where am I taking her once I have her?”

He thinks, quickly. There were too many eyes in New York for him to chance it getting back to DeLuca. Likewise, he was certain his house was being watched. Even though it technically wasn’t under his name, enough people knew about his residence in Jersey for it to get around. And there was no way in hell he was bringing Isabella anywhere near Helen.

“There’s a private airstrip just outside of Newark with an adjacent motel. Keep her there. If I don’t talk to you before then, I’ll plan on meeting you there tomorrow, at noon. I’ll probably be offline when you land.”

“I’ll get her there.”

“Thank you, Sof.”

He hangs up and concentrates on the road ahead, even as his thoughts spin. He hates having to depend on anybody. That said, he does trust Sofia to get the job done. To take care of it and troubleshoot any unforeseen problems on her own. That knowledge helps with the distaste he feels for needing help. It was easier to accept the help, too, knowing it would benefit Helen.

John makes it to the Continental and leaves his car with the valet. Walking into the lobby, he spots Verdugo sitting in an armchair by the fire, reading the newspaper. He imagines the assassin is likely still the number one contender targeting Helen, considering John hadn’t been able to touch him the day before.

He feels his hand already itching for his gun but he knows the rule.

He recites the rule, to himself, again and again as he passes by.

No business conducted on Continental grounds.

He can’t falter on that, not here. The moment Verdugo sets foot outside the hotel, he’s fair game. But not here.

Charon already has a key card placed on the counter when John reaches the counter. John places a coin down and they make a quick exchange.

“Mister Dexter sent you a fax and the Technician has compiled the information you asked for. I’ve taken the liberty of sending it all to your room.”

“Thank you.” John says, thinking back over the past few days. For everything that the Continental staff had helped him with. “For everything, this week.”

“Of course.” The Concierge replies with ease. John takes his key and starts to walk off when Charon calls to him, “And Mister Wick?” He waits until John turns, “I wish you the best of luck with your… task.”

John nods his thanks and proceeds down the hall and up the stairs. The day room was almost identical to the one he had stayed in while waiting for news of Helen just days ago. Two folders layfolders lay on the table when John walks in.

The first is much smaller. John flips it open and finds only two sheets of paper, reporting the updated odds. In large capital letters, it advertises Kingston Contract Odds .

John forces himself to swallow as he reads through it.

Verdugo remains the top contender, but the rest of the list is very different than the one he had seen yesterday morning.

Fuck, he thinks, was it really only yesterday?

He sighs, reviewing the changes. While he had eliminated a great deal of the assassins targeting Helen, even more had dropped out of their own accord, it would seem.

Good.

But more would always come, as evidenced by the papers in his hands.

More names he didn’t recognize. Junior assassins and street kids looking to make a name for themselves.

He’d try to make time to eliminate more. Keep reminding people exactly who they were messing with by going after a woman they knew to be his.

John takes out his cell phone, again, ignoring the dozens of text messages that would be left unread until he had the time to deal with them. He finds Santino and drafts a new message.

J: Need to talk. Today.

He reads it over after and sends. Before he can even set it down, it vibrates in his hand.

S: Intriguing. You know where I live.

John turns off the screen, setting the device to the side as he opens the second folder.

Pictures of Isabella DeLuca on the arm of her late husband at scores of different events over the years. A birth announcement of their son. A copy of a marriage certificate. A degree from Sapienza University of Rome in business sciences and another in political science. A transcript, providing proof of excellent marks and scores.

She was bright, it seems, adding to Helen’s theory that Isabella was the true brain behind Syndicate.

He continues going back into her history, but he doesn’t make the connection until he sees her birth certificate.

Isabella Carlotta Giovinco.

Daughter of Stefano Giovinco and Valentina D’Antonio.

He whips out his phone and dials Winston speedily.

“Hello again, Jonathan. Have you—”

“Valentina D’Antonio.” John says quickly, “What’s her relationship to Lorenzo?”

“Valentina?” Winston repeats, “She was his older sister. The eldest child of Claudia and Enzo D’Antonio.”

“And that would make Isabella DeLuca his niece?”

“Yes.”

John closes his eyes, “And you didn’t think that was pertinent information to share when DeLuca asked me to kill the D’Antonio’s?”

“Killing family is not an unusual practice, Jonathan. But, honestly, it slipped my mind. When Isabella was never, herself, a D’Antonio.”

“But her mother was.” He shakes his head, “And in those days, everything was patrilineal. Heir’s weren’t chosen based on age or conviction; they automatically went to the oldest male.”

“Which, in Valentina’s case was her brother, Lorenzo. She married one of her father’s lieutenants, if I remember correctly. They had several children, one of which being Isabella. It was quite the scandalous thing when Isabella married Dante. She had to renounce the Camorra at her own wedding to be accepted into Syndicate.”

“A lesser gang.”

“But one that quickly rose to prominence. It’s second only behind the Camorra in Italy.”

John pinches the bridge of his nose. He fucking hates this bullshit.

There’s a knock on the door and a beeping as the door unlocks. Winston enters and John lowers his phone, shutting it off.

“So, before Isabella, Syndicate was just another Italian crime family trying to be great.” John assesses, “Her family probably thought she was crazy for leaving the safety of the Camorra, but there was no advancement there. In the Camorra, she was just the daughter of a soldier and a has-been princess. But in Syndicate, she was a queen.”

“You think Isabella was the driving force behind Syndicate’s rise?” Winston synthesizes, looking unsure.

John nods, “I do. Helen told me that DeLuca wasn’t smart enough to be doing this on his own and I didn’t listen. Fuck .” He exhales, “I almost missed it.”

He’d kick himself if he could. If he had just listened to her from the beginning… no. He can’t focus on should have’s.

This is good.

Any doubt that Lorenzo D’Antonio will turn down his request fades from his mind.

Because it’s personal now. For them, at least.

It’s been personal for John since they started stalking the woman he loved.

“Unbelievable.” He mutters.

“I take it Mateo demanded the same last night as when he first took your beloved.”

John nods again, “Yes. And I’ve spent the last few days trying to figure out how I can get us both out of this alive. I can’t believe I almost missed it.”

John exhales and it feels like a weight is lifted from his shoulders.

It’s far from over but he can feel everything start to come together. There’s a light at the end of a tunnel that once seemed endless.

He breathes easy.

He wishes that Helen weren’t hours away so he could take her into his arms and hug her as the relief courses through him, overwhelming the guilt that he had missed something so crucial.

“It’s unsurprising that you missed it.” Winston says, “You’ve never had a political mind. You prefer the simplicity of being told where to point and shoot.”

True enough, John thinks.

“There’s something else you should know.” Winston adds, his voice softening in a way that tells John that whatever comes next won’t be good. He nods and Winston says, “There’s a missing person’s out for Helen Kingston. I’m not sure if it was someone in the Underworld trying to draw her out of hiding or if it was someone from her work, but the police were at her house this morning.”

If it wasn’t one thing, it was another.

John shakes his head, “Do you know if Charlie was able to clean the scene before the police got there?”

Winston nods, “Yes. I have someone watching the investigation. The police are under the assumption that she ran away since both her cell phones and her laptop are nowhere to be found but her family is pushing, saying Helen wouldn’t just disappear without telling them.”

“Alright.” John sighs, “Thank you for letting me know.

“Of course.”

“I have to meet with Santino.” John says, closing the folder and handing it to Winston, “Could you pass these along to the Technician? I need them scanned and emailed to Sofia Al-Azwar.”

Winston accepts the folder, inclining his head, “I’d ask what you were planning, Jonathan, except I feel it’s better that I don’t know.”

“You’re probably right.” John agrees.

“That said, I will be watching with complete and utter fascination.” The Manager continues, “Good luck.”

John nods, pocketing the key in case he needs to come back, and leaving the rest behind. Without a goodbye, he hurries back down the hall. He descends the stairs only to meet Verdugo walking up. The other assassin gives him a smile.

“You’re a hard man to find, John Wick.”

John stops and reminds himself again, of the mandate.

No business shall be conducted on Continental grounds .

While John was more than willing to argue that this isn’t business, it was personal , he was certain that argument wouldn’t fly with Winston or the High Table.

“Am I?” He asks, instead.

“Very. But every now and then, you pop up. Seemingly out of nowhere. If only Helen Kingston was privy to doing the same.”

No business shall be conducted on Continental grounds .

“It would be in your best interest,” John manages to bite out, “To forget her name.”

“But it is such a pretty name. Fitting, really. There was a war over her namesake as well.”

No business shall be conducted on Continental grounds .

“One where thousands died,” John agrees, aware that they’ve caught the attention of several onlookers just off the lobby, “Yet another reason it would be wise of you to drop the contract.”

Verdugo inclines his head, “You can’t keep her hidden forever. You do know that, don’t you? If it’s not me, it’ll be someone else.”

No business shall be conducted on Continental grounds .

“It won’t be you.”

“Why are you making this so much harder on yourself?” There is genuine curiosity dripping from Verdugo’s words. A confusion, of sorts, as if he can’t understand why John Wick is putting off the inevitable.

Kate had been similarly curious, although hers had been riddled with amusement. Now she was dead.

But every assassin thought themselves invincible, to a degree. Yes, they were far more aware of mortality than the average person having watched the life drain from countless eyes. But the older assassins in particular, who had brushed with death regularly, often seemed to forget that.

John, himself, was guilty of that. He thinks to the tie that does not hang from his neck, which instead, he had left with Helen. He might never wear one again in his promise to her to not let anyone have a chance at defeating him.

“Make it easier on yourself and let her go.” The other assassin pauses, “I’ll make sure it’s quick. Painless.”

No business shall be conducted on Continental grounds .

No business shall be conducted on Continental grounds .

No business shall be conducted on Continental grounds .

“Would you like to take this outside?” John asks, hoping against hope that Verdugo is stupid or confident enough to make a mistake.

Verdugo inclines his head, “You forget, Mister Wick. You’re not the one with the multi-million-dollar bounty… Consider my offer. Others’ targeting the Boogeyman’s woman will be far more malicious.” He starts to ascend back up the stairs, “Be seeing you, Mister Wick.”

John repeats the rule one last time before forcing himself to turn away. Until Verdugo leaves the Continental, John can’t do shit.

That said, he’d be extra wary of tails on his way home. Just in case.

He’s almost tempted to let the assassin tail him. Take him to the middle of nowhere and pummel him to death.

His focus has never been so chaotic. He’s typically good at ignoring the smack talk. At walking away from those seeking to push him or make him lose his resolve.

John needs to stick to the plan.

Helen is safe. Protected.

Marcus won’t let anything happen to her.

He needs to do his part.

He nods to Charon as he leaves, ignoring the countless sets of eyes watching him as he strides through the lobby with purpose. The valet is gone when he reaches the stairs and John takes a moment to breathe. To go over the plan.

Santino will still be his point of contact. The easiest of the D’Antonio’s to convince to go along with his plan. But now he has leverage to use with Lorenzo, which makes it significantly easier to breathe.

He just needs to get the bounty removed. Then he can deal with the rest—the other enemies who might target Helen, the missing persons’ case being explored, and the countless unresolved feelings that had been flowing between them.

In a way, he’s relieved that the deadline is only two days away because he’s not sure how much more he can take.

The valet pulls up to the curb with his car and John hands him a tip as he walks by. Santino’s penthouse condo wasn’t too far away, just over the bridge and into Manhattan.

John is waved into the garage by security and he parks next to one of Santino’s many, but mostly unused, sports cars, before heading to the elevator.

When he arrives, a few members of Santino’s entourage were relaxing around his penthouse.

Ares plays a video game with a few of her co-bodyguards. She throws him a smirk as John is wanded down by another member of Santino’s protection.

Her hands move in a blur as she signs you still alive, old man?

John rolls his eyes and signs back Respect your elders.

Ares only grins wider I’d rather respect your girlfriend. I’ve seen the pictures. She has a nice ass .

Not knowing how to respond to that, John just shakes his head and moves further into the penthouse suite. Santino appears at the balcony, always one to make an entrance, and descends down the stairs.

“John! Always a pleasure. Café?”

John nods, “Si. Gratzi.”

Santino motions with a hand and leads John to a kitchen where two more of his men were sitting. Both regard John with interest but he ignores their stares. Santino barks an order in Italian and one of them stands to make the espresso.

“You’ll have to forgive the mess,” Santino says, although John has noticed no mess to speak of, “My father and sister are visiting.”

John hums, “Are they here?”

“No, no. Gianna doesn’t travel often and prefers to use the advantages of the Continental whenever she does. My father is staying with a business associate.”

John didn’t understand much of politics, but he was well aware that business associate meant mistress in this case. He says nothing as Santino’s henchman hands them each a small cup.

“Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Santino asks.

John glances around not so subtly and Santino gives another order. The men vacate the room and John can hear them passing on to others outside the kitchen that it is time to leave.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors going around.”

“Ah, but I never believe such fickle things.”

That was a lie, but John let it slide. He didn’t come here to argue with the Italian mafiaso after all. He can hear the swing of the door and he glances back. Ares has come in.

“I hope you don’t mind, John, but I do prefer to keep my head of security close at all times.”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes but nods, signing as he speaks, for Ares benefit, “Of course.”

Santino offers a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and John finds himself doubting that this is a good idea.

Remember your promise , he thinks. He will come home.

“Now, please,” Santino says, “Enlighten me with the truth.”

“The rumors,” John admits, “are largely true.”

“But not entirely?” Santino leans forward.

“Is anything entirely true?” John evades with a practiced ease.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“We’ve never technically put such a label on our relationship.” Not technically a lie, John thinks. “But for all intents and purposes, she is mine .”

Santino grins broadly, already rapt by the drama of it all. John will never understand the Mafioso’s fascination with such things. Truthfully, John isn’t certain why anybody gives a damn about the lives of people they don’t care about but that’s another matter entirely.

“Mio Dio, John. I did not think you had it in you.”

He barely withholds another eyeroll.

“And now what? You destroy New York piece by piece, until there’s no one left to harm her?”

“That’s plan B.”

“And plan A?”

John swallows down the espresso, keeping an eye on Ares as he prepares to explain.

“Mateo DeLuca holds the hit over Helen. I’m sure you’re familiar with him.”

“We’ve never actually met.” Santino says, “But he is my cousin.”

John nods once, “And of his mother?”

“Isabella. My dear aunt Valentina’s daughter. Until she disowned and dishonored her family to marry that scoundrel, Dante. Quite the tragic affair, although I was too young to remember.”

“She remembers you.” John says, “She’s ordered your death, along with that of your father and sister, in exchange for the release of Helen’s contract.”

Ares moves fast but John is faster. He grabs a cutting board from the island and uses it to catch the two knives she throws at him before he discards it, throwing it to the floor.

“Relax!” He says as he signs, before turning back to Santino, “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have offered you an explanation. I’d have killed you the moment you walked in.”

Santino looks to his guard, quietly ordering her to stand down, before looking back at John. “Go on.”

“They want the Camorra.” John says before taunting, “And it would be easy enough to give them. Except I don’t trust them. Nor do I like the idea of the High Table coming after me while DeLuca takes Rome, free of consequence.”

“I take it you have a plan?”

“It would require your cooperation, as well as that of your father and sister.”

“How so?” There is a glint of excitement in Santino’s eyes that John really doesn’t understand but he isn’t going to complain if it means the mafiaso is willing to help.

John glances to Ares, who has her arms crossed and is still watching him with suspicion. “We’ll need to stage your death. I’ll take photographic evidence to give to DeLuca. Once he exchanges his end of the bargain, you can present the DeLuca’s to the High Table to be tried for treason.”

“And you walk away with the girl.” Santino hums, shaking his shoulders as he considers it, “How exciting! How would you like to fake my death? Strangle me? Pretend to cut me open, hmm?”

Unbelievable. It takes him a moment to even remember to speak, “I was thinking fake a bullet to the head. It doesn’t leave much room for questioning.”

“Are we to do this now?” Santino is practically bouncing.

Again, John is tempted to just yell what the fuck but withholds with a shake of his head.

“I was hoping to speak with your father, first. But yes, it would be today. If I’m seen coming and going while you are obviously alive, DeLuca might suspect that I’ve tipped you off.”

“Wonderful!”

“You’d have to stay in hiding for two days.” John says, “And no one can know. Not even your entourage or security. Save Ares.”

“Yes, yes!” Santino nods, “They will mourn their loss only for me to rise, like Christo.”

He swears he catches Ares rolling her eyes while Santino considers how to best spin faking his death. Not that she’d ever admit it. She was too loyal. A rare quality in the Underworld, but one John respected nonetheless.

“Can you get a hold of your father remotely?” John asks, “Over video call?”

“Of course!” Santino gives instructions to Ares. She nods and leaves the room, “New video conferencing on top-of-the-line laptop. Just released from Geneva. It’s untraceable, unhackable.”

The other assassin returns with the laptop and sets it up for Santino. The heir calls his father while John closes his eyes. The youngest D’Antonio had been an easy sell—willing to play dead for the shock value and entertainment factors alone. And while John was certain Lorenzo would be swayed by Isabella’s involvement, he was aware that Lorenzo might take a bit more pushing.

The call is picked up by one of Lorenzo’s bodyguards.

John is aware that high-ranking members of the Underworld kept hired guns, and particularly members of the High Table required guarding, but it still throws him.

John, who can barely stand the presence of friends, cannot understand the appeal of such things. Or the inability to take care of one’s self.

After a few minutes, Lorenzo is brought to the computer. He settles down in front of it, peering at the camera. A rush of Italian parts from his lips and John finds himself code-switching quickly, trying to change the language his brain would accept.

“I told you, I would see you Friday before I left—” Lorenzo was saying, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Yes, father, but I have John Wick here to speak with you.”

Santino turns the camera towards John.

“John!” Lorenzo says in surprise, “I was hoping to see you on my visit. When I heard about your… conundrum, I assumed you would be too busy.”

“Lorenzo,” John steps closer to the camera, “It’s about that matter I wish to speak with you.”

And it all comes out.

The involvement of the DeLuca’s. Isabella’s slow, careful takeover of the Syndicate. Playing kingmaker to her son and murdering her husband, all in quest of taking back the Camorra.

The contract on Helen’s life.

How, despite the contract, John doesn’t trust the Syndicate crime family.

“That whore .” Lorenzo spits out, when John has finished, “She gets that from her mother. Being a princess in the Camorra was not enough.” The old man shakes his head, “Her ambition is her downfall.”

“You can have them tried at the High Table for their treason.” John nudges.

Lorenzo certainly perks up at that. What a display that could be. The Camorra annihilating its number one competitor, publicly.

“I’ll testify for the High Table.” He continues, “All I ask is a few hours of your time. And that of your children.”

“I don’t like the idea of playing a dead man.” Lorenzo replies uncertainly, “It would look weak.”

“Only for you to rise from the grave, seizing what has fallen in DeLuca’s absence. Syndicate could be yours.”

Lorenzo considers it, a smile breaking upon his face. “Alright, John. Tell me your plan.”

....

thanks to @meetmeinthematinee​ for reviewing it before I posted this :)

[mymindwide]

It won’t be long we’ll meet again

Pairing: Ashton x Female reader

Word count: 6775

Warning: angst, feelings, smut

Author’s note: This is the chapter 2 (and closure) to ‘The end of heartache’. I hope you’ll love this too, and would just like to thank the support to those who were kind enough to write any kind of feedback on Chapter 1. :) I hope this won’t disappoint either. Take care and enjoy your read.

*****

You miss him. As plain as that sounds, sometimes the simplest words carry the heaviest burdens.

Six months ago you left your apartment with a sleeping Ashton in your bed, after he fucked you in that bed, and you convinced yourself that you don’t care about his motivation after all. You were glad it happened but eventually it just made things more difficult and painful for you.

Because although he’s never been yours, losing him broke your heart. That night you’ve spent together was… good. Obviously way more than just good. But why did he decide to come after you? He’s been in a seemingly happy relationship, then why? No doubt, he probably just felt pity for you after your confession. He always had a good and caring heart, you wouldn’t wonder if this was the case. Well, it really doesn’t matter now, does it? You took that risk; you knew what you were about to do, and as far as you remember your first thought was that you shouldn’t… yet you did nothing to stop him or rather you doing it. Now you were ready to pay the price for your decision, and you’re doing exactly this, painful or not.

Six months have passed since you left but you haven’t talked to any of them since. Well, not in live. Your communication went through emails, tweets and DMs on twitter, but those were very rare, you tried to keep it that way. After you had arrived and settled in your new living space you sent them an email with your address and the company’s name you were working at, at that time.

One day a delivery guy has left a small package for you at the reception of the building you were living in. The tiny velvet box hid a pretty white gold necklace with an angel wing medal; the gift card attached to it wished you all the best and let you know about a certain protection sentiment behind it, and was signed as C.A.L.M under that with the real signatures of Cal, Ash, Lu and Mike. An immediate smile crept on your face, because knowing the guys too well, this was either Cal’s or Ashton’s idea, and if you had to place a bet, your vote would be for Ash. No offense to Luke and Mikey, but they are not as thoughtful as the other two, and they are perfectly aware of this. This is again something that doesn’t make the disengagement easier for you, but you happily and proudly wear that beautiful necklace since the moment you have received it.

In the meantime you have changed a job, because two months ago you left that marketing position for a once in a lifetime opportunity – you were hired at iHeartRadio New York City in a program manager assistant position for one of its afternoon show. Everything was so new and fast and challenging, you had so many things to learn and do and still get used to, that you didn’t find the time and way to let the guys know about this new situation.

 * * *

 That day started pretty usual and normal, though at some point you should have started to suspect and prepare for the opposite. Just not long after you put your foot in the skyscraper building, there was a complete power outage; you had to call firefighters to help the trapped people escape from the elevators. You had to call the building maintenance guys to restore the electricity so the ca. 150 companies (including the city’s biggest radio station) can continue to work. You had to call some technicians to try to resettle your servers and computers. They managed to do that, however some of your fax machines have completely died due to the blackout, therefore you were asked to pass over a few important papers to one of your presenters shortly being on air, that he’d need to interview his guests that are already in the building. The entire 15th floor was your radio’s, so you picked up the folder and ran across the long hallway to reach the glass window studio on time. It was an impressive performance with 3 inches heels on your feet. After delivering the “goods” you joked to yourself that you should consider entering the next sprint competition that’s going to be held in the city. If you can do it on heels you’d have a good chance without them as well. You realized you needed to use the bathroom before returning back to your office, therefore you made a quick left turn on the corridor, but you didn’t get to the women’s restroom, because a familiar figure leaned against the wall next to the men’s restroom typing on his cellphone. You went closer, because you didn’t want to believe your eyes; your heart was pounding against your chest heavier than ever before.

 “Mi-Mikey?!” as you called his name he lowered his hands with the phone in them, turned around and as he realized who dared speak to him, his eyes widened and with that drive you wrapped your arms around his neck clinging to him like a startled sparrow.

“Y/N! What are you…, how?” he hugged you back tight.

“I’m working here” you responded as you let him go and took a step back so you can check him out.

“But we thought you’re at that marketing company.”

“I know and I was, this opportunity came 2 months ago” you started to gaze your feet as you felt your conscience remind you of all the missed chances to let your friends know about this new job. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier” you looked up at him with literal shame in your eyes.

“We kinda got used to it by now…” he smiled at you.

“I…I’m…”

“Just kidding, it’s so good to see you!” a grin appears on his face and that slightly reassures your nerves and remorse too.

“The others?”

“I guard the door while they are inside using whatever toilet they have to” he rolled his eyes. “I swear to you they’re still a bunch of babies, I told them to use the bathroom in the hotel, but nah, we’re good. You can see how good they are…” he points at the door of the men’s restroom making you laugh with his comment.

“What’s up Mike, now you’re talking to yourse…” – the door opened and as Luke came out first he couldn’t even finish the sentence coz after Mikey you appeared in his field of view and you got the same reaction as from Mikey.

“Y/N?!”

“Me” and you took a step towards him too to wrap your hands around his neck.

“What are you doing here?” he stroked your back quickly.

“I’ll tell you everything, just wait for the other two now so I don’t have to repeat myself four times”

“I’ll tell your girlfriends that you two beguile the lady assistants at every radio station we put our feet into…” came another familiar voice from the opening door, and this time you could surprise Calum.

“Man, I think they wouldn’t mind this one…” smiled Luke.

“Cal!!!!!!” you jumped into his neck and he held you tight to himself lifting you up a bit, your feet not touching the ground below you.

“Holy shit, girl, what are…” he started asking the obvious question as he put you down back on your feet.

“I know, what am I doing here, and I swear I’m going to answer just…”

 And this time you were the one who couldn’t finish your sentence coz the door has been opened for the third time and Ashton stepped outside looking confused for a second at the sight of the little group gathering until he found the incongruous member of his band. The others fell silent as if someone has stopped the time and cut you out of this scene. Actually, time has stopped for you too, because you weren’t exactly prepared for this spectacle either, seeing him obviously brought back memories, but even if those memories didn’t exist, he looked so handsome, so good-looking in his set that consisted of a black torn jeans and a black button-up shirt with the first few buttons being unbuttoned leaving a perfect view at his subtly muscular chest, that you felt a little bit lost at that moment.

 “Y/N?”

“Hi Ash…” you bit your bottom lip to feel some kind of pain that holds you back from collapsing inside and burst into tears in front of them. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, so you took that first step to hug him too, though evidently not with the same vehemence as you did with the other three. Your hands rested on his back and only for a few seconds, his hands mirrored your movements on your back, a few gentle caresses and you let each other go pretty quickly. Quick enough to feel this hug awkward, but you guess that’s what you get when you fuck with someone you consider a friend even though you feel way more for him.

“Hi, sweetheart” he smiled at you and this gesture eased the tension in you enough to get your shit together.

You took a short glance at the other three behind you, and they stared at you two as if they were watching bombs that could explode at any minute. Is it possible that they know something about what has happened between us months ago? Ahh, anyway, I have no time for this now, now that these four stand in front of me, still a total miracle and a quite big shock at the same time. You took a big breath and started telling them very quickly about your job change.

“Who did you come to?” you asked from any of them.

“Greg? Is it Greg?” Lu asked back.

“Ah so it’s you guys who he’s waiting for. Actually I just brought his papers for him, so he can ask questions from you” you grinned.

“I thought it worked a bit more modern these days” Ash smirked.

“It does, smartass, we just had a… bit of a situation in the morning, and all electronics went to shit due to a power outage.”

“And if it wasn’t for that, we wouldn’t have you right here right now” Cal came and gave you a half hug.

“Guys, I missed you so much, you have no idea.”

“Boys, we have one minute left…” Mike warned you and you literally saw the panic in his eyes as he looked around your little branch.

“What is it Mikey?” you asked.

“It’s just… we have to go, and I assume you have to go back to work too, but we’re staying for the night and leave only tomorrow, so I thought we could meet for a dinner somewhere? I mean, only if you want it, too, of course!” he sputtered and was eyeing Cal and Luke, though Ashton got a glance from him too.

“I’d be more than happy to do that with you guys” you shrugged with a smile on your face.

“Since you live here, you can recommend a restaurant maybe?”

“What about Ceci? It’s Italian and it’s only three corners down this avenue.”

“Sounds awesome. When will you finish?”

“At 4.”

“Then 6? Is that good?”

“Then 6, it is.”

“See you at Ceci, baby” Cal hugged you first, and all the others joined him, resulting in you melting in a group hug.

“Good luck and see you soon” you waved them goodbye, and with a huge smile on your face and a long-awaited excitement in your heart you headed back to your office.

 * * *

“Target #1 in the building” Cal made a comment.

“We can see that as well, Captain Obvious” snapped Mikey.

“Dude, calm down, and let me remind you that this whole thing was your idea.”

“I know… thanks again, Captain Obvious.”

“If you won’t stop with the captain thing, I’ll hit you on the head.”

“Would you please shut up for a minute, both of you. I can’t see from the noise you two make” Luke intervenes.

“Anyway, what’s your problem? We’re good so far, aren’t we?” Cal continues.

“But what if Ash sensed something? Weren’t we too obvious with the ‘buying gifts for the girls’ thing?”

“Don’t think so man, last time I checked we do have girlfriends…” Luke tried to reassure Mike.

“But Cal doesn’t.”

“And? I focus on myself right now!” snapped back Cal resentfully.

“Dude, that’s not the point! Good for you. I just want this to work.”

“He’s gonna be here.”

“Young amigos, if we don’t go anywhere I have to ask you to get out of the car” says the driver of the taxi they sat in. “You know I have a big family, have to give them food.”

“Luke, give me 40 bucks.”

“Why me?”

“Coz your net worth is the highest, and I’m just a poor guitarist from Sydney” scoffs Mikey.

“If this is gonna work, Ash owes me…” mumbles Luke as he slaps the money in Mike’s hand at the passenger’s seat.

“Are you sure you don’t have Scottish or Jewish ancestors…?” Mike side eyed Luke. “If this is gonna work, I’ll personally give this back to you, you mean bastard.”

“Oh shut up, Clifford.”

“Does this cover an hour route?” Mike holds out the money to the driver.

“Si senor, it’ll do.”

“Guys! Guys, target #2 is approaching the building…” Cal’s voice warned the quarreling couple, and all four men in the taxi looked in the direction of the restaurant on the other side of the road.

 * * *

 You completely lost your sense of time after you went home from the studio. To your biggest luck you have found a flat incredibly close to your workplace, actually it’s halfway through  between the studio and the restaurant, so you had time to try out at least 20 clothing combinations for the dinner. Based on how the day had started you would not have dared dream that it would end like this. You came here with the thought you’ll never see them again, and here you are, you’ll have a date with four of your best friends, and that makes you beyond excited. The long and short of it is that you ended up 15 minutes earlier at the restaurant, wearing your favorite black torn jeans with a simple V-neck white t-shirt and matching black high heels.

You were checking your phone every minute preparing yourself for them to write you in the last possible second that they’re sorry but won’t be able to make it, but no message has arrived, so you started becoming very excited by every passing minute. You were about to put your phone on the table when you looked up from it and glimpsed Ashton walking towards the table you were sitting at, the table that was booked by Mr. Clifford for 5. You rose from your seat to greet him and grabbed the opportunity to check him out very quickly and hopefully not too strikingly.

“You look wonderful” he hugged you with one hand “…and I like the jeans” he added grinning at you as his eyes lowered to the knee part of your jeans where it’s been torn.

“Well, I have to admit, there’s a slight Irwin impact on my fashion sense regarding jeans.”

“I’ll have a greater legacy than Versace” he joked.

“Ahh as to Versace, have you watched the second…”

“I have and I had no one I could talk about it with” he said semi-sadly, semi-excitedly not even waiting for you to finish the sentence.

“I know, me neither. I missed our regular series talk shows” you smiled at him.

“Anyway, it was definitely shockingly brilliant.”

 He hardly finished the sentence; the receptionist came towards you and stopped next to your table. You looked up at her simultaneously.

 “Sorry for interrupting you, I would like to apologize for the inconvenience, but Mr. Clifford just phoned us and let us know, that the remaining 3 person won’t be joining you, therefore I’d like to escort you to a quieter, more private table for two, if you don’t mind” she has flashed her nicest smile at you two.

 Both Ashton and you looked at your phones at the same time looking for some explanation behind this situation but neither of you got any messages from any of the guys and looked up from your phones as confused as the other.

 “We haven’t ordered yet, so it’s fine for me…” he told the receptionist but he looked at you all the way waiting for an approval.

“Yeah, it’s okay, of course” you blinked still confused.

“Thank you very much. As a compensation for the inconvenience, tonight’s drinks are on the restaurant.”

 You stood up and followed the lady in front of you, while looking at each other conspiratorially, because you knew something that the management of the restaurant did not - namely neither Ash nor you drank any alcohol, so the worst that can happen is the mineral water stock will be less with a few bottles.

As soon as you put your bottoms down on your seats, a waitress came to take your order, and to your waters you ordered a Caesar salad and Ash stayed with a steak though he chose salad as garnish too.

“Never thought you were the salad type” Ash noted.

“Believe me, I am still not, but you should have seen the food I was poisoning myself with since being here. My body really can use a lighter meal now. I’m literally craving it.”

“Can’t blame you. I guess everyone’s first thing to do when arriving in New York is to try all the food we see on Man vs. Food.”

“Yeah, that’s how I got to know the city, basically” you laughed. “Uhm, as to those three bastards you call your bandmates and I called friends… I assume you didn’t know about this” you cocked an eyebrow at him.

“No, I didn’t. They told me they’re going gift shopping, and that they’ll join us in time.” “Obviously they won’t now” the right corner of your mouth pulled in a sarcastic smile.

“If you don’t feel like it, we don’t have to do this…”

“Ash, no, it’s not why I…” your hand has swung quicker than you thought and by the time you realized, it already rested on Ash’s forearm, trying to keep him from standing up from the table. As soon as you saw why he’s looking at his arm you jerked your hand back.

“Hey, I didn’t plan to go anywhere“ he smiled at you seeing you blushing as he really just adjusted his chair.

“Sorry…” you whispered feeling ashamed, not exactly knowing why though.

“No, it’s okay… Actually, I’d like to talk to you about something.”

 You swallowed as if you had known what’s coming.

 “Can we talk about us?”

“Us?”

“Yes, us and that particular night. Should I remind you of…”

“No. It’s not something that just disappears. Not after how we said goodbye” you tucked your lips between your teeth as an automatic reflex because you felt your pulse getting higher, and your anxiety creeping up.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a goodbye…”

“But it was.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up when you left? We could have talked.”

“You know, I thought about it a lot since then. Even felt certain guilt. But that day was emotional enough for me, besides my life here was already pretty much prepared. At that moment it felt right.”

“And now?”

“Ash… Why did you come to me that night in the first place?” you started losing your patience as you felt him calling you to account. You wanted to show him he’s not the only one with questions.

“What do you think?”

“For months I was convinced it was out of pity from your side.”

“Out of pity… But did that really feel like it though?”

“I don’t know, Ash. Again, that day was hard enough and you didn’t make the things easier either.”

“Did you know you left a mark on me? Nail scratches on both my shoulder blades” he smiled. “A few days later I became single.”

“I didn’t want to get you in trouble” you told him with honesty and worry in your voice. You really had no idea that they are no longer together.

“It has nothing to do with it; I just thought I’ll let you know, since it made me smile when I noticed it at home. And as far as I remember it was me who knocked on your door…”

“But I could have told you to leave…” you quickly closed your eyes as instant memory moments rushed through your mind about the exact scene you were talking about. How he kissed you and picked you up in his lap, and how much you didn’t exactly protest against it, but kissed him back and wrapped your legs around his waist instead… About how your body reacted to his in a millisecond.

“Did you regret what we’ve done back then?”

“No” you said after a few seconds of silence. “But it just made things more difficult for me.”

“As of?”

“Leaving behind what I wanted to leave behind. Forgetting you” you felt a sudden sadness as you uttered these words aloud.

 You didn’t even notice how easily you eased into your conversation and that the anxiety you felt at the beginning just disappeared most likely thanks to the calmness that flowed out of Ashton, the soothing tone of his voice, the way he spoke to you.

You loved how honestly and openly you could talk about this, when it could have turned out enormously awkward as well.

 “And you? Did you regret that you came to my apartment that night?” you rested your elbow on the table while supported your head with your palm.

“No. It made me realize a few things.”

“As of?” you smiled.

“You know I don’t believe in too many things, but what I believe in is that there are no coincidences. Us meeting here, totally accidentally, has to have a greater purpose. And I’d like to tell you something and I’d like you to listen to me. I want you to know that I liked you all along. From the beginning. I always thought we had a special connection and we understood each other quite well. But I was stupid and thought we’re friends, and it’s not gonna lead anywhere, you know, you don’t shit in your own backyard… And this is what I regretted. That simply out of fear I didn’t even try to give it a chance, and when you confessed six months ago it kinda slapped me in the face. The only thing I could tell you was that I was sorry. That’s what I felt sorry about. Not you. My own self and my missed opportunity. That I was satisfied with less when I could have something more valuable too. You helped me open my eyes and as it hit me, I wanted to see you. That’s why I visited you that night.”

 As he said all these things to you, your heart just wished to leave your body. Never in your wildest dreams could you imagine that he, in any way, could feel the same like you, and now here you are.

The whirlwind came and you looked down at the table, lips trembling and the first stream of tears rolled down your face. He reached for your hand, gently grabbed it with his and you squeezed it letting all the remaining tension and anxiety go, as his thumb brushed your skin.

 “So now you know. Pity never was on the table.”

 Wiping those few stray tear drops you smiled at him as you still hold hands.

 “This whole situation is because of me, coz I fucked that up, and for this I am sorry too.”

“Ash… it doesn’t matter now. I’m glad you’re here, I’m glad we’re here. And I’d just like to hug you now, so bad” a liberated shred of laughter escaped your lips.

“I can promise you we’ll get round to it” he flashed a smile at you squeezing your hand once more before he let it go, as your ordered meals had arrived.

 * * *

 While eating you could continue with much lighter topics; he let you into their plans and ongoing work with their new material and all the shenanigans you missed while being in the other side of the states, and you told him about the musical legends and celebs you had the pleasure to meet thanks to your last two months at the radio.  It was around 8pm when you left Ceci, and tried to find a secluded place on the sidewalk where you aren’t in the way of others and they aren’t in yours.

 “Can I collect my hug now?” you smiled at him and just hoped you don’t sound too desperate, though you were not sure whether he would care at all if you did.

 You certainly did not care. Your heart got lighter, your eyes shined brighter after your dinner, and just feeling him this close, like never before, filled you with such happiness you never thought you’ll feel again. He pulled you closer and you went upon your tiptoes to wrap your hands around his neck while his arms slithered around your waist wreathing you into a tight hug. Your senses were looking for the familiar feelings - his citrus scent filled up your nose, your arms rested safely on his wide shoulders providing you the sense of security that you felt only with him.

You very slowly let go of him and stood back on your feet, as your eyes kept holding onto each other’s.

His fingertips ghosted along your arms going down to reach their destination in your palms.

 “Can I kiss you?” his eyes hiding a slight insecurity were searching yours.

“Are you really asking for permission when…” you smiled.

“I am, because this is our first date” he wasn’t waiting for you to finish.

“Then please, kiss me” you whispered still smiling.

 His hands let go of yours and found their new place on your waist pulling you closer and on the side of your neck angling your face slightly upwards so he can attach his lips on yours while your hands slid up to rest on his chest.

This kiss was different from what you shared the last time, of course no wonder, since that night wasn’t exactly about the most extensive and deepest exploration of the other. You simply didn’t have time for that, and weren’t in that particular headspace.

This kiss was feathery, gentle and exploratory – the kind that makes you lose your mind.

You felt yourself in a dream and as the seconds went by, you sensibly became needier; his fingertips pressed harder on your waist while your hands grasped his shirt on his stomach. A sense rushed through your veins, a recognition, that made you feel almost ashamed and shy for wanting to be with him again.

 A loud honk reminded you that you’re in the middle of the street, so you slowly let each other go, and still feeling the ghost of his lips on yours you leaned your forehead against his collarbone slightly shaking your head as you let out a heavier sigh.

 “Damn…”

“What?” his tone gave away that he’s smiling.

“I feel like I should be ashamed of the thoughts that are filling my mind right now.”

“If they are anything similar to mine, then yeah, you should…”

 His remark made you chuckle into his chest. You lifted your eyes on him and you felt exactly the same way as you did six months ago that night when you stood in the hall of your apartment staring at each other, trying to read from the other’s eyes and face. And again, just like back then, there was no question to which the answers couldn’t have been found in your eyes.

 “Come…” you intertwined your fingers and took a few steps backwards never breaking the eye contact.

“Where are we…” he asked as you started heading down the road.

“My flat is two minutes away.”

 * * *

 “Wake up you two! They are out!” Cal shouted, and the other three gentlemen in the car hoisted in their seats. “Not you, Pedro, you can sleep back.”

“This is my car, I wanna watch!” the driver stared out his window sticking to the windowpane, and Cal just shrugged.

“Awww, they are hugging”

“Thanks for the live broadcast, mate, but I’d rather check it myself” Luke just tried to push Cal out of the way so he can see something with his own eyes too.

“Oh, that senorita is la belleza; I’d hug her too…” Pedro remarked and his passengers shared a quick glance that made obvious what they think about their plus one – they managed to get stuck with a perv.

“Woah woah woah, oh my god, come on Ash, you get it dude!” shouted Cal as they watched their two targets embrace in a kiss.

“Yesss” Luke cried out joining in the celebration.

“Could you please move over, that’s my friend, I have to see them” Mike tried to push the driver away.

“I wanna see, I wanna see” their ad hoc driver fought back, and as he did, his elbow pressed the honk on the steering wheel.

 All four of them pulled their heads down immediately, searching for cover behind the doors of the vehicle.

 “Man, you can ruin everything” Mikey yelled at the driver grumpily.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to cause trouble” their driver justified himself.

 Carefully and very slowly they all rose from their cover, and saw the targets still standing on the sidewalk, although not kissing.

 “Let’s just hope they’ll find a hotel, if I were them I’d do…” Cal made the comment.

“Dude, you need to get laid soon…” Luke shook his head in response to Cal cocking his eyebrow.

“Just like he will be…?!” Cal indicated out the window, pointing at the pair as they hold hands and the girl takes a few steps backward still facing their bandmate.

“Damn, I’m a genius…” grinned Mikey.

 * * *

 While waiting for the elevator in the building you hardly could let each other catch your breath, being able to kiss him without any heartbreak or shame felt beyond liberating.

 “Waiiiit, shit” he pulled away from you.

“What’s wrong?”

“This time I don’t have any condoms, I wasn’t expecting… the whole press tour or this evening to take such a turn” he whispered.

“This only means… you have to… pull out in time…” you kissed it on his lips. “Can you do that for me?”

“Do you trust me?” he cupped your face looking in your eyes with his very serious ones. After all you were about to play a dangerous game, that can have consequences, so you had to be sure, you take this risk. But you trusted him more than anyone.

“You know I do.”

 After getting back to your flat, between passionate kisses you helped each other get rid of your clothes and shortly you found yourselves naked on the couch, discarded clothes here and there on the floor around you.

Ash sat on the couch; you stood in front of him as he, kissing the skin on your stomach, pushed your last piece of cloth you had on -your panties- down your legs.

Straddling him you were holding onto his shoulders, and you slowly ran down your nails on his chest to his stomach very lightly. He most likely worked out more in the last six months; his abs became more defined than what you were remembering.

He reached up to pull you closer by the back of your neck merging you in a kiss that you were getting so many in the last 20 minutes from, and yet you couldn’t get enough.

You slid your hand lower to take his hardness and as you wrapped your fingers around it he moaned into your mouth just fueling your desire to give him as much pleasure as you can. You quickly started caressing him, smearing his pre-cum on his tip, before you lifted yourself on your knees enough to position his cock over your entrance.

 “Wait, are you rea…”

“Am I ready?” you smiled at him and lead his tip over your wetness a few times. “I couldn’t be readier” you leaned towards him to kiss him again rewarding him for his thoughtfulness, since last time he made sure you were ready for him, now your kisses and touches ensured it.

 You leaned your forehead against his as you lowered yourself on him, and a soft whimper escaped both of you at the same time.

 “Fuck, woman…”

“God, you’re magic…” you gasped.

“We are” he tilted his head back against the headrest of the couch, leaving his throat free for you to lick and kiss.

 After getting used to feeling his size inside you again, with the guidance of his hands on your hips you started to grind your hips, first just slowly, up and down, then slightly increasing the pace you were riding him harder letting him fully fill you up.

Your nails scratched down from his shoulders down to his chest leaving a light mark.

 “Old habits die hard?” he breathed out making you smile with it as you brushed your fingers over the marks and you leaned forward to lick into his mouth, your hips never stopping with bouncing up and down on him.

„Is this good?” you asked him as you reached behind you, running your fingers around his balls squeezing them a little. Although you already knew the answer seeing the look in his eyes and hearing the hitches in his breathing. His body gave obvious responses to your touch.

„You haven’t been this chatty last time…” he swallowed back a groan.

„Well, last time you haven’t been this single, either…”

You were like fire on fire, perfectly igniting each other’s arousal. It was like you never felt yourself this alive.

He cupped your breasts in his hands and as you slowed your hips he took his time to caress and massage them, kiss them and suck on your nipples, circling his tongue around them sending you into hyperspace with all this sensation. Now you had the chance to discover what you couldn’t six months earlier.

Your movements slowed down as your thighs started to tire, and Ash sensing this took control over the things from then. His hands found their way back on your hips and he started to pound into you in the same rhythm you moved on him. It’s been a new sensation and his name fell from your lips like a prayer as your pleasure started to build in your core.

 “Please don’t stop, I’m so close” you whispered in his ear whimpering before you took his earlobe with his earring into your mouth pulling on it a little.

 He kept your hips in place and this time it was really just him moving his hips a bit faster than before and you screamed as your walls spamsed around his cock in you. He threw his head back and as his grip loosened on your hips you started moving again riding out your own climax.

He looked back at you and you smiled at him in your delirium, kissing him deeply for the pleasure he gave you.

Reaching under your butt he stood up and took you into your bedroom, putting you down on the bed.

 “Where do you want me?” you asked as you really were ready to give him anything he wants or needs in any position.

“Just lie down. I’d like to see your pretty face as I take you.”

 With only this one sentence he sent a jolt through you again and you did as he told, lying on your back you were waiting for his promise to be fulfilled.

Leaning over you he entered you again and with a louder moan you welcomed back that now familiar and oh so good feeling of having him inside you.  This time he picked up a quicker pace that he slowed down on purpose from time to time, you saw him struggling more and more as he tried to lengthen our moments as long as he can, but six months was six months for him too…

 “Ash, don’t hold it back” you caressed his face. “You can come. I need you to. We’ll have plenty of time to do this…” you brushed his lower lip with your thumb before he leaned down to kiss you.

 After a few more thrusts, he pulled his cock out of you, rested it on your abdomen for a second, and looking down, seeing his length lying under your stomach you wished he could put it back to feel him finish off inside you.

He took his cock in his hand and started to pump it slowly until you reached down almost immediately to replace his hand with yours keeping your constant eye contact. Seeing the lust still shining in his eyes and hearing his groans through his gasping as your warm palm covers his soft skin lightly twirling and moving on it back and forth, paying special attention to the sensitive part right under his tip was the crown of this night for you. Without moving your head, only your eyes wandered down to capture the moment of his cum spilling out onto your stomach, your eyes immediately found back to his, your teeth grazing your bottom lip. Ash’s soft moans filled the room, the moans you could hear with your ears but feel with your soul. Not stopping with stroking him, you slowed down with your movements and he leaned down to kiss you while you still kept his length in your hand, your thumb wiping the last drops off of his tip.

 “I’ll bring a cloth” he whispered on your lips after taking a look down at your stomach covered with the drops of his cum.

“You’ll find some in the bathroom cabinet.”

 You heard him run the tap and soon he came back with a wet cloth helping you get clean, then wiped himself too. After taking it back to the bathroom, he came back and lied down next to you.

 “I like your necklace” he stroked your jewelry hanging around your neck.

“It’s so beautiful, and I love it so much, I didn’t take it off since I received it.”

“Could we give this a chance? Maybe the timing wasn’t right back then, but it can be now. I want this. I want us. I want you.”

“If you’re working on to see me cry again, you’re doing it right” you smiled at him.

“I’m dead serious” he reached out to you and stroked your face.

“I know. And I’d like this too.” you took his hand in yours kissing into his palm.

“Come home to us.”

“I want to. And I will. But I have to close my barely begun life here first” you laughed.

“I won’t let you out of my reach again.”

“You better not, Irwin.”

 He drew a cross over his heart with his pointer finger.

 “In the morning we can work everything out. And this time I’ll be around.”

“Promise?” he smirked.

“Promise” you drew a cross over your heart too and leaning over him you sealed your promise on his lips with a kiss before he playfully pulled you onto his body.

 Caressing and kissing each other you slowly quieted, and with tangled limbs you finally fell asleep in each other’s arms.

* * *

 I can’t recall the last time I was this happy in my life.

Imagining a life where I open my eyes in the morning and the first thing I catch a glimpse of is the beautiful and peaceful face of the man I love was only a dream for me for so many years.

But it’s funny how life can make up for its own mistakes.

I remember the girl from six months earlier. How bad she wanted to touch him, how bad she wanted to kiss him awake, how bad she wanted to put her hand over his heart just to feel its even beating.

And now I’ll just do exactly that.

[k-writer1998]

Black, White, Grey (3/3)

Having Bang Chan as your best friend is great cause he’s literally the best but not so much when you’ve had a crush on him for a majority of the friendship.

Angst

w.c: 2.1k

Part 1     Part 2

A/N: Depending on the reaction on this last part, I may or may not make an extension/alternate ending thing but don’t get your hopes up 😅

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      It’s been a week and I’ve just been swamped trying to finish up my schedules while my manager finalized the details on the new project. Because of this I hadn’t had any time to see or talk to any of the boys much, but without a doubt Chan has just been super weird all week. He’s been checking in more often and has been more attentive to my responses than normal, what's with him lately? I shook the thought from my mind as my manager pulled up to the JYP building. Don’t dwell on it. If the weird vibe is still there when you stop by then you can worry, if not then you’re over thinking.

“After this last photo shoot you’ll have a few days off to pack. We could be there as long as half a year so make sure you have everything. You sign a few papers on my desk then you get some free time while I get everything organized and faxed over okay? ”

“Got it, I should be around the dance practice rooms but if not I’ll text you.”

“The plane ticket is already settled. Once it gets closer to the date I’ll send you the full details but it should be an evening flight.”

“Okay we can go over it later, let’s go in first.”

      As we turned to the building my feet froze in place as my eyes connected with Minho’s. Shit, no one was supposed to find out. My manager looked between the two of us before telling me that he would meet me inside. Minho’s eyes narrowed at me as he came up. I avoided his gaze, instead taking notice of the drinks in his hand and tried to deflect.

“Did you lose a game and have to go buy everyone drinks?” I smiled.

“Yeah, but what was that about? Where are you going?”

“... do I have the option to withhold that information?”

“I mean you can, I’ll just ask Chan-hyung.”

“Wait, don’t! I kinda… didn’t tell him either…”

“Okay now you have to spill if not even your best friend knows. Does it have to do with Chan-hyung?”

“No, I’m not that dramatic,” I rolled my eyes, “I’ve actually been planning this for a while and I finally got the opportunity to do it. I’ve never brought it up because nothing was set in stone yet.”

“Well how long have you known?”

“Since last week…”

“A week? So you’re going overseas for six months for whatever and you didn’t plan on telling any of us?”

“I mean I’ve had to finish a lot of things and we both were so busy-”

“Were you going to tell us today?”

      He knew it was all excuses and he was calling me out on my bullshit. I wasn’t planning on telling then until probably the day before the flight because I can’t do goodbyes. I knew they would all be happy for me, even encourage me, but there was something about all of that that made it harder for me to go. I was already dealing with a heavy heart about Chan, I didn’t need another thing weighing me down when I’m barely functioning as it. It was selfish I know but I needed at least some mental stability intact if I was going to be doing this.

“I wasn’t… but I have my reasons okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he scoffed as he turned to the door.

“Minho wait,” I called as I grabbed his arm, “I’m sorry okay? A lot has happened in such a short period of time and I’m trying to deal with it all but my brain can’t catch up and I don’t know how to put everything into words right now. I’ll tell the others on my own terms but please keep this a secret for now.”

      I saw his jaw tense as he kept his eyes closed for a moment before he turned to glare at me. His eyes scanned my face for a moment before he sighed and I relaxed a bit.

“Fine. But you better hurry up about it. I’m not keeping it for long.”

“Thanks Minho, I will. I’ll meet you at the studio in a bit okay?”

      He shooed me away and I gave his arm a brief hug before meeting my manager inside so I could sign what he needed then left to go meet the boys. Hanging out was pretty normal minus a bit of extra attitude from Minho and Chan being less weird but still not himself. The next two days were filled with me figuring out what to pack while fighting the little voice in my head that wanted me to just stay in bed and never leave. I’m currently staring at my phone, living room strewn with things that need to be packed, as I tried to figure out how to text the boys I’m leaving without everyone getting mad… especially a certain someone. As I erased yet another failed attempt at trying to tell them, my door chimed as my door code was being inputted. Before I could think of who it was, Chan bursted in and I got up to meet him halfway. He was breathing heavily, looking quite the mess but the troubling factor was his eyes. They were red and filled with confusion, betrayal, pain… God damn it Minho couldn’t you have given me more time?

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving? What happened to no secrets? Why is it that I had to find out from Minho?!"

“Chan calm down… I was about to tell everyone, no one was supposed to know before. Minho only knows because he overheard it while I was talking with my manager. He wasn't supposed to say anything though..."

"Why? Did you just want to disappear before I could say anything?"

"I didn’t mean to keep a secret okay? I have my reasons for hiding it just like you have your reasons for hiding whatever has been making you so weird lately," I countered.

      I wasn’t the only one who was going to be confronted. I mean his reaction was a bit extreme just for an overseas trip, even if it was an unannounced one, but if we’ve already reached this point might as well get some answers. 

“What are your reasons then? And I haven’t been weird.”

“I’ll tell you once you tell me because we both know that you aren’t being yourself. You’re treating me like glass, as if anything you do will hurt me,” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“I'm not, I just don't know how to act when- It's just when Minho-" he ran a frustrated hand through his hair before he asked, barely above a whisper, "Are… are you leaving because of me?"

"What? Chan, why would you-" 

      My heart stopped. As the pieces fell in place, the color drained from my face. It makes sense. Why he’s been so weird lately and that nagging feeling that I’ve been having that something was wrong… 

"How long?"

“I-”

“Chan don’t act like you don’t know what I’m asking.”

"Since a week and a half ago..."

      A week and a half ago? The only time I would have talked about it where he could catch it was…

“… you weren’t asleep were you?”

“I was! But I woke up because of Minho and I was trying to go back to sleep when…” 

      Panic flushed his face as he explained himself and I just numbly nodded in understanding. I couldn’t help but sigh at what was unraveling right now. I’ve been getting away with it for so long that I wasn’t careful. That’s on me. 

“Can we just go back to normal, please? This whole treating me like I’m porcelain, being super careful about what you do and the constant glances,I hate it.” 

“I- I just… I don’t know how to act. You’re my best friend and I love you but-”

      I cut him off before he finished. The pure confusion written all over his face reminds me why I’ve hidden this for years. The frustration at myself boils beneath my skin, I’m trying not to let Chan’s actions get to me… but it does. It fuels my anger more, I don’t need pity and I don’t need protection.

"Chan, there is no option where I’m not hurt in some way. Would you leave Eunhye to be with me, break two hearts at the price of one? Or would you just not date anyone to protect my feelings at the price of your own? Do you think I’d be happy or even okay with you doing that?!” I snapped.

      He was shocked at my sudden fire of questions. He stayed silent, trying to find an answer but the growing conflict that spread across his face was the only answer I needed. I let out a sigh, so much has happened. Him finding a girl he likes, me getting that overseas audition, him finding out about my feelings… it’s overwhelming. I take a moment to collect myself before I speak again.

“Sorry… I just… I hoped to never have this conversation.”

      The lost look in his eyes broke my heart because I know that look. He’s nearly perfected hiding his feelings from his facial expressions, but his eyes always betrayed him. They held fear and slight panic as they darted around my face, trying to figure out my next move.

“I’m okay Chan,” I offered him a weak smile, “We’ve known each other for far too long and that’s how I know I was never an option. If there was a chance for an “us” I of all people would have caught it, don’t you think?”

       He averted his gaze, the guilt washing over him as he shrank back and started to fiddle with the hem of his hoodie sleeve. I took a step forward, placing my hands on the sides of his face and gently brought him to look back at me. I’ve done this countless times when I found him in one of his lows, where doubt and uncertainty had found its way into his heart. Something so intimate that belonged to us, at this moment, was yet another grey area that was finally finding clarity. I know that after this things will change and neither Chan or me want that… but we’ll have to learn to live with it. 

“Your heart's too big Chan, and I can't blame you. It's one of the reasons I fell for you, but you know what's in your heart. It’s obvious you really like her and that’s okay-”

“But I’m hurting you…”

“Deep down I’ve always prepared myself for this. Even if it hurts now, it won’t hurt forever and I’m wholeheartedly overjoyed that you found someone that makes you happy. So let’s stop this already okay?”

“Then why are you crying… stupid…” Chan questioned with a soft voice.

      Damn it… I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. Chan removed my hands from his face as he drew me in for a hug. I rested my forehead on his shoulder, taking in his scent as his warmth encased me. I couldn’t stop myself so I succumbed to the wave of tears that spilled from my eyes, his hoodie balling in my hands as I clung to him. It was a while before my tears stopped but Chan still rubbed circles on my back like he always did whenever I broke down. Once the tears dried and I took a moment for myself to remember this feeling… the feeling of him… I pulled away.

“I wasn’t running away from you. I got a call for a Hollywood film I auditioned for… I have to go to LA for a call back and if it works out I stay. I didn’t want to tell anyone yet in case I don’t end up landing the role you know?”

“Oh my gosh that's amazing," he responded excitedly before the remorse set in, "I’m sorry. This was a big step for you and I made it about myself… I may have thought a bit too much when I found out,” he awkwardly laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You and Minho both. I’m not that dramatic to run away because of a broken heart. Do you not know me Chan?” I tease.

“My bad,” he smiled, “but we are good still… right?” 

“Yes and since you’re here did you want to stay and help me pack?” I asked, poking his side and returning the smile.

“I mean I kind of just bolted out of the dorm so why not, I’m getting in trouble anyways.”