#also. sigh. i guess my tags warrant a

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

and that's that!!

[xxsycamore]

𝙂𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙤 (Leonardo x reader)

↬ 🐈 Some period cramps can be cured with the help of a cuddly little kitten, and some others require a bigger, cuddlier cat.

Leonardo da Vinci x reader • rating: G • tags: Menstruation; Period Cramps; Fluff; Pets; Lumiere • wordcount:  743 • masterlist

a/n: You voted for Leonardo! Here it is, another fic in the series! If you happen to suffer from cramps and you want your favorite ikevamp suitor comforting you in their own unique way, may I offer: Napoleon, Comte, Mozart, Theo 💕(All fics in this series share the same opening scene!)

It’s another beautiful day at the mansion, and the sun is continuing to shine brightly outside as afternoon settles in. Your list of chores is more than half-way done now, the morning was a productive one and you pat yourself on the back for pushing through at your usual pace, even if your period surprised you early this morning. Sleeves rolled up and armed with a feather duster, you march towards the lounge room to take care of another chore.

Specks of dust dance in the afternoon sun, windows wide open, as you complete your task little by little. Soon the sections left to dust decrease and you start to tire - a minor pain in your tummy appearing as well, as if to persuade you into taking a short break. You throw a look at the grandfather clock. You’ve been a busy bee; not even the distraction of dusting off some of Comte’s highly intriguing antiques couldn’t get you late on your own schedule.

You sit down at the spacious couch area, grab a throw pillow to hug, and fall on your side - shoe-covered feet juust hanging off the couch because it won’t be worth the effort of taking them off for just a minute or two of rest.

Uh-oh! The pain doesn’t go away and only gets worse instead. Suddenly moving as much as a millimeter equals signing a death warrant.

“Help” You whisper to yourself, clutching onto the throw pillow.

***

" 'Scusa Cara mia, may I interest you in switching pillows with me?"

Startled, you open your eyes to discover Leonardo looming over you - you must have dozed off. With the melodic, deep voice you're familiar with, the surprise lasts a mere second before melting away, and in its place grows a sprout of affection that whispers 'I missed you'. Those sentiments have to get squeezed into a minuscule timeframe, because you have to react to the "pillow" trusted in front of your chest - it's black and furry, and it meows in a confused greeting.

Most naturally, you take Lumiere in your hands, accepting the deal gladly - and Leonardo takes the throw pillow instead. Shifting to lie fully on your back, you welcome your favorite little gattino to cuddle close to you, and he makes himself comfortable on your stomach. Any suspicions that the little angel in a devil's disguise would add to your pain vanish the second you find yourself relaxing into the couch, with Lumiere on top of you.

You gaze up at your wonderful dopamine dealer, wondering if he's truly content with what he got on his side of the deal. He puts the small pillow behind his head and sinks into the nearby armchair, admiring the sight of his two favorite creatures stacked atop of each other. He chuckles and crosses his legs at the feet.

"I was going to suggest medicine, or a message. But that would've gotten you back on your feet too soon, and you gotta rest. But now I guess it's no more moving for you, huh?"

You look at Leonardo with defeat, but also with thankfulness as soon as the impending sigh leaves through your lips. There indeed is no moving when precious Lumiere is on top of you, and there indeed is a certain need to rest that your body has been trying to signal about.

"…Leonardo? How did you know?"

"I have my ways, tesoro. Been noticing the signs, I knew it would be one of these days. Took a wild guess when I peeked inside and saw you on the couch."

Your second sigh is carrying a bit of that gushy embarrassment, but it's cut short because of the sensation of Lumiere jumping off you. He sneaks out through the left-ajar door, leaving only the memory of the soothing warmth on you.

"Nooo…"

"Must've heard Sebastian making the pots and pans noise, eh? Acting like I don't feed him…"

Your outstretched hands and the little overdramatic frown on your face carry the power of getting your mountain of a boyfriend to his feet despite his well-anchored state. Before you can decide what is he approaching you for, he sinks to his knees and… lays his head down on your belly. Gently. Right where Lumiere was a second ago.

The warmth is back, but this time it spreads all the way to your cheeks.

"It seems like a bigger cat came to make sure I won't be able to get up…"

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @animeworldsposts @randomanimatedhusbandoseeker @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @pro-cat-stination @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @violettduchess @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @cilokgoang Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[esta-elavaris]

Part Nineteen [2,416 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterlist of all chapters.

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @teawithshakespeare @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm

A/N: I did not intend to take such a long break from this – but I’m so grateful for how patient you all were!

When Theo received her own personal invite to Amelia Simmonds’ garden party a week after the incident, she had no idea if it was because of the incident and the boundless gossip opportunities it presented, or because Port Royal couldn’t keep a secret for shit and it was now common knowledge that she was being courted by Captain Norrington.

Back home, a garden party would be a boombox in the garden with a cooler full of beers, and a few different choices of Dorito flavours artfully bowled across a white plastic table. It was a bit of a different affair here. The patio doors were flung open and a string quartet was on standby to greet the guests as they filtered out into the hot Caribbean sun under blindingly bright dresses with matching parasols, where canapes and fine crystal glasses of indistinguishable beverages awaited them.

It wasn’t surprising to Theo – and it was probably less surprising to everybody else – that she had no idea how to act. Oh, in settings such as these she had long since learned to follow Elizabeth’s lead, but there was no lead to follow when it came to her new status as far as Port Royal’s most beloved captain was concerned. And not knowing how to act while also being under such heavy scrutiny? That was yet another source of pressure.

Yes, she could follow James’ lead, as well as guessing based on how they’d conducted their visits – for he had visited at least once every day while she ‘recovered’, even if his schedule meant that visit was a mere ten minutes between other things. And she’d found she’d begun to actively look forward to those visits, and was disappointed when they were over.

Oh, she was completely doomed.

Still, that doom came to her dressed dashingly as usual in his full formal get-up the moment she was alone, wielding a glass with some indiscernible liquid in each hand.

“For you,” he handed her one of the tiny glasses.

Theo peered at the glass, barely bigger than her thumb, her brow furrowed.

“It’s Bénédictine,” he said.

“Oh, I know, I just…I don’t know if I can manage all of this,” she said.

James sighed his impatience – fondly, at that – and she continued.

“I mean, look at that. You could drown in there. No, it’s just far too much. I get bored of all drinks after the first mouthful, and this? This has two. Maybe even three. I’ll never manage it.”

“I see you’re feeling better,” he said, a note of humour breaking up his rueful tone. “You must be, if you’re back to teasing me.”

She did feel better. Whatever she’d been plied with for the sake of her ‘nerves’ had, at the time, left her feeling a little foggy, and with a sense of contentment too blankets like and hazy to be real...and once it’d worn off, she’d paid the price for that. Something to do with burning through too much dopamine in too short a time, she suspected, leaving her to do without after the fact. That had been rough. But it hadn’t lasted long, no more than a day, considering she hadn’t been on the stuff long enough to warrant proper withdrawals. Mostly she’d been tired.

...And a little scared. All right, more than a ‘little’ scared. Of what was yet to come. Of the mess she’d gotten herself into. Of the choices she was still making, to be ‘courted’ by a man from the eighteenth century, who should not exist, who was doomed to die, who would hate her if he knew all she kept from him...and who she couldn’t possibly actually have any future with, even if she did manage to circumvent his fate. Right? Staying with him would mean...staying altogether.

And worse still, she wasn’t standing here wishing that she’d done anything differently. Was it any wonder she hadn’t had the heart to needle him?

“Did you miss it?” she asked. “The teasing?”

“More than I should admit.”

All those in attendance at the garden party – all of the eyes who sought to discern just how Port Royal’s newest courting couple would behave around one another – would have no difficulty seeing how she blushed then.

Clearing her throat, she did her best to ignore that blush and spoke. “No regrets on not choosing team shark, then?”

“None thus far. Ask me again in a week or two,” he said drily, a small smile playing on his lips.

“A week?” she gasped. “You think it’ll take that long? You absolute saint, you.”

That earned her a full-blown smile. At least until he made the mistake of casting a glance about those gathered – all of the eyes flickering to them from beneath parasols, over fans, and across drinks. It was enough to dampen his joy, a little, for he straightened, but the smile didn’t fully disappear. Discomfort, it seemed, more than embarrassment. That was a relief. An Irish castaway with no social standing, save for Governor Swann’s daughter having taken a fondness for her, was an unconventional choice, and James Norrington was nothing if not conventional. Or, well, that was how it was supposed to be for now.

“I do hope I’m the only one between us who has the feeling of being an exhibit at a zoo,” he remarked.

“You get used to it,” she offered quietly.

“I...yes. I suppose it’s been that way for you here since the beginning. And my saintly behaviour did not help.”

“Eh, it was a welcome distraction. Passed the time.”

“You’re too generous.”

Feeling bold, she disguised her next words behind a sip of the drink he’d brought her. “You’re too handsome.”

A shocked laugh sprang forth from him, followed by a good deal of spluttering before he finally cleared his throat and shook his head, pretending to find the nearest patch of grass incredibly fascinating. Her smugness lasted about as long as it took her to actually taste the contents of her glass, though, after which her nose wrinkled and she went back to nursing the glass, wondering how exactly she could get rid of it without looking like even more of a wildly uncultured swine.

“There was a matter I wanted to raise with you, while you’re here. I didn’t want to trouble you with it before, nor ruin our visits together...but...well...”

Now she was standing in the garden of the House of Simmonds, there wasn’t much to ruin. She didn’t voice that fact, but the knowing look she cast about the setting seemed to show him that she understood well enough.

“Your father,” he said finally.

“My father?” she echoed weakly.

“I know there are things you have yet to share with me,” a note of sourness threatened to seep into his voice, but he fought it valiantly. “And I shall not rush you. But...you were trying to reach him, yes? And he is...he is a military man? Those are parts of your tale that I never doubted.”

“Yeah- yes. Yes.”

“Would you allow me to begin the process of attempting to find him?”

Theodora stared. And he apparently took that as an answer, continuing quickly but firmly.

“I will not rush you, I spoke truthfully when I said that, I swear it. Not in this, nor in...nor in this,” he motioned, barely, in a way that indicated between the two of them. “But I am keenly aware, as I’m sure you are, that this is a process that may take some time. A long, long time. By the time letters fall into the wrong hands, then reach the right ones, and then receive responses. Is it not better to begin it now? And then the rest of the timing will be at our leisure. At your leisure.”

Pragmatic to a fault. And still too, too fucking good. Whatever he saw in her face, he apparently disliked, for he adjusted where he stood so that his back would block her face from the view of all others in attendance.

“The last thing I wish to do is make you uncomfortable. I’ve done enough of that. And I do not ask this for my own sake, so that we might- I wish to reunite you. Only that. And what else it may or may not bring can be discussed at a later date.”

“Can I think on it?” she asked quietly, finding herself completely unable to look at him.

The correct thing to do, from a standpoint of cold hard logic, would be to agree. To let this already impossibly busy and dutiful man take on extra work, chasing down someone who had not yet been born, for a woman he likely would no longer regard with any affection once he knew the truth. Because what reason could she have to disagree? His patience, on this matter, was a finite thing, and sooner or later he would need an explanation. Telling him no would shorten that span of time, but telling him yes would only have her deserving his hatred twofold, should the truth come out and he realises it was a pointless venture from the very beginning.

“Of course you can.”

Sighing, she almost brought the glass to her lips for another sip, just for something to do with her hands, before she remembered how foul it tasted and dropped it again. “He’d really like you, you know.”

“Only if you mask some of the finer details of these last few months,” he mused, though his eyes remained trained on her features, seeking out any hint of what she really wanted to say.

“I may be open to bribes.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

A few beats of silence passed, and then Theo straightened, hesitated, and sighed.

“James...”

“Hello, you two!” Elizabeth was on them then, lowering her voice after her initial sunny greeting. “I am here in a glowing display of proof that I am neither spurned nor offended. How am I faring?”

James coughed, his current resolution towards candour challenged by Elizabeth’s bluntness, but when his eyes found Theo’s face again, she met his gaze and found he was doing his utmost to show through eye contact alone that he was not angry with her. Frustrated, perhaps, but not angry. 

“Valiantly. You haven’t slapped me or anything,” she answered Elizabeth, spirits bolstered enough by that reassurance to joke a little.

“Miss Swann must be too frightened to do so, after your victory against your last foe.”

“The shark? That was your victory,” Theo pointed out.

“I shan’t claim it. Consider that my first of many bribes,” he replied drily. “And this the second.”

As he spoke, he plucked the glass from her hand and, after making sure the view of the others was fully shielded, emptied its contents into the grass. It was criminal for a grown man to be that adorable. Especially when his face softened at how his actions had her fighting back a smile.

“I’ll leave you two in peace. Miss Swann. Th- Miss Byrne.”

“You know, I never thought I’d see the day when anybody could make him forget formalities so easily. Perhaps you really are a witch,” Elizabeth murmured conspiratorially – mercifully, once he was out of earshot.

Theo didn’t respond.

“The two of you really are so precious, you know,” she prodded again.

“He wants to track down my dad.”

“What?”

“My father. He was asking permission to get the ball rolling to track him down, and reunite us.”

“Oh that’s so romantic!”

“Elizabeth.”

Never before had she felt such a keen need to monitor herself so closely – her tone, her expressions, her body language. For not only were all gathered here watching, but she knew James would be too, trying to get a sense of her reaction when she mightn’t feel the need to filter it for his sake. For he knew that Elizabeth knew everything. And she could therefore be more forthcoming with her. If she freaked out now, if she spoke in anything other than a casual tone, with anything but a smile on her face, he’d grow more suspicious. He’d demand answers sooner.

And if he did that? She’d have a mind to just tell him the bloody truth and be done with it. But that wasn’t possible. Was it?

“What? It is! I’d never say it in front of him, I know how easily he embarrasses, but even you can’t deny it’s terribly sweet-”

“Elizabeth.”

“What, Theo?” Elizabeth laughed impatiently, evidently frustrated that she was equally thrilled alongside her.

“What am I supposed to say?” she said through a smile that was more just like gritted teeth. “What am I supposed to tell him?!”

“The only thing you can tell him. Yes. It’ll be a grave insult otherwise,” Elizabeth replied as though it were obvious. 

“So I’m supposed to just let him chase after someone who doesn’t exist?”

“It’ll make him happy!”

“And then when he finds out the truth?”

“...If he finds out the truth, you can handle it when it comes.”

There were times, when she spent time with Elizabeth, where she marvelled at how all of the divides between them made little difference. Those of the times, lifestyles, wealth, and even age. This was not one of those times.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it is!” Elizabeth insisted, appearing irked at her now. “Enough of this, for now. We can’t be seen to be bickering now, they’ll assume the worst. We can discuss this later, Theo, but really you do have to tell him yes. He’ll think you’re not serious about him, otherwise! And then all of this heartache will have been for nothing! When you’re both so happy!”

We can discuss this later sounded a whole lot like I can explain why I’m right later, but Theo shoved down her annoyance, and her panic, and mostly just wished she’d suffered the damn Bénédictine after all. Maybe it would’ve been strong enough to chill her out.

That wish doubled in on itself when she noticed Groves weaving his way through the crowd, and Elizabeth murmured.

“I suppose I’m not the only one who needs to put on a show of not feeling spurned. Although mine may have been rather more truthful.”

Theo said nothing. At this rate, she’d be checking to see if Amelia was stocking vodka.

[auphelia]

A long day (1/?)

Warnings n tags: f!reader, autistic!alhaitham hinted, student!reader, soft alhaitham, fluff, eventual smut in later parts if I don’t chicken out, not proofread, selfship coded, I don’t think readers appearance is specified? like alhaitham can lift you but he’s buff so... 

Note: I have been haunted by Alhaitham for so long, now I am reduced to making the content that I desperately crave. I am not a writer, nor is english my first language, so expect nothing! I will continue this fic at some point but I’m too tired right now so I split it up. Also, minors DNI

Word count: ~1200

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

Alhaitham had undoubtedly had a rough day. He slammed the door a little louder than usual as he entered his house, the noise causing him to startle slightly in both surprise and discomfort, which only served to sour his mood further. Your head perked up the moment the door slammed shut, it was never really difficult to guess if it was your boyfriend coming home or his loud roommate Kaveh. But today was different, the door had been shut with more force, and noise, than what Alhaitham usually did. But Kaveh shouldn’t be home before tomorrow, something about a project if you remembered correctly. Letting out a small sigh, you put the book you had been reading away.

"Alhaitham, is that you?" You did your best to keep your voice soft and gentle, hoping that he'd already turned off his noise cancelling earpieces.

"Obviously" He sounded tired and annoyed although he did his best to hide it behind his usual neutral tone, but you weren't fooled by that, not anymore.

It took you only a moment to deduce that it must've been a busy day for him. You frowned a bit at the thought, there had been too many busy days for him ever since he was forced into accepting the position of *Acting* Grand Sage. You debated going out to hug him as usual, ultimately coming to the conclusion that the unexpected touch would likely only aggravate him further. Instead, you rose from the couch and went into the kitchen, rummaging around for some ground coffee beans.

You cursed under your breath, why did Kaveh always have to move things around in the cupboards and give them new spots whenever he cleaned? You thanked the Archons that Kaveh was away today, knowing full well that he enjoyed pushing Alhaitham's buttons to get him to act brashly on days like this.

Meanwhile, you could hear Alhaitham going about his business getting his shoes and that silly cloak he insisted on wearing off. You smiled as you heard some faint clattering, he was finally getting around to emptying all his pockets. A loud curse rang through the otherwise quiet house followed by a thud. Hm, maybe he wasn't emptying his pockets, maybe he accidentally dropped the pouch around his waist? You measured enough water and coffee for a single cup and setting it to brew.

"Are you okay love?" You tried to placate him by using his favorite term of endearment, knowing he must be furious at himself to warrant cursing.

"Physically I am in perfect shape" His voice was less composed now, he sounded exasperated. You smiled to yourself, in some ways, Alhaitham was like a small child, getting annoyed as soon as something didn't go according to his plan.

You could hear him enter the living room as you stood in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

"You're still working through this book for your thesis? At this rate, you won't even start writing before the deadline for submission has passed" His voice was sounding less annoyed, a good thing, even if he was knowingly taunting you.

"You should accept my offer of assistance, it would be the only logical thing to do" His voice took on a slightly teasing tone, subtle enough that you had to know him to catch it. With a small chuckle you entered the living room, the cup of freshly brewed coffee in your hands as you walked over and offered it to him.

"It would be improper for a student to receive help from the highest authority in the Akademiya" You spoke the words with a smile playing on your lips, knowing that he wanted nothing more than to help and despised not being allowed to.

"Besides, you hardly know enough about my field of study to be of any meaningful assistance" As you spoke, he took a sip of the coffee, visibly relaxing at the warm feeling spreading through his body from both the drink and your presence.

"Hm, is that so?" A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he sat down on the couch, leaning back and crossing his legs. It was clear that he took it as a challenge, if the way he reached out for your book on the table was any indication. You swatted his hand away with a grin before grabbing the book and placing it out of his reach.

"You have enough tiresome scholars and students to deal with at work as it is, no need to add me to that list" Although you were mostly teasing him, there was a hint of truth to your words, you could see the toll his current position took on him. He let out a sigh, not having any argument against your statement, instead he patted the spot next to him, signaling that he would like you to sit close to him. With a satisfied smile, you sat down, resting your body against his toned frame. Alhaitham placed a soft kiss to your hair, silently thanking you for putting up with him. The two of you sat in comfortable silence while he finished his coffee, you eventually picked up your book again and started reading, feeling him shift next to you to read along.

"You should take a bath. You reek of poorly-written submissions and the sweat of scholars desperate for funding" You poked his chest, not taking your eyes off of the book in your hands. He let out a low, amused huff before wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"And it seems my *carelessness* has caused it to rub off on you." His voice was matter-of-factly, but if you'd care to look back at him, you would see a small glint in his teal eyes. A small giggle escaped you as you closed your book and tried to wiggle free, which only caused him to pull you closer with a soft hum. He set the now empty mug down and reached over to take the book from your hands and place it down on the table before bringing his hand back up to gently caress your cheek.

"Perhaps you would be interested in joining me for a bath?" His voice was still calm, although you could hear the hopeful tone entering his words. You leaned into his hand on your cheek, enjoying the feeling of his careful touch. He always touched you with such care, almost as if he was scared you would break under his touch.

"Hmm fine" You make a show of seeming disinterested, but both of you know this was exactly the outcome you'd hoped for.

"But we'd better get to it now, I don't want to be caught naked when your roommate comes home" A small kiss is planted on Alhaitham's jaw as you speak, making his lips turn up in a soft smile. When your words register in his mind, his face contorts into a slight frown. He quickly scoops you into his arms and stands up, not bothering to answer you but instead making a beeline for the bathroom as he clutched you to his chest.

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [4.3]

Masterlist

A/N: Thanks again for your patience, everyone! Doing my best to keep my head up and the inspiration flowing

DM to be tagged

@boxofsparklingmuses @sinmatic @mndsxarts @rottingerotic @liilliiana

--

The last time Eva had seen Theo, he was ten years old. A lanky, pasty little thing with shaggy hair and big sunken eyes, just like his dad. But he had his mother's nose, her strong bone structure, and it was clear to anyone that the pair were related. He was a bit taller now, still lanky, and he resembled something of a wet rat as he sat in the damp mud. He looked up at her with just as much surprise that she found him.

"Theo?" she wondered allowed.

He sighed quietly, "Hi Eva," he mumbled.

"What're you doing out here?" she asked.

The young boy shrugged listlessly, "I don't know. I didn't feel like sitting in there," he replied.

Eva wasn't sure what had come over her, but she could look into that boy's eyes and recognize the fear within him; whether it be for their mom or generally being in this house. He was probably no stranger to how his parents got together, considering how brash she had reacted at her graduation. He was hiding out here just like she had been.

"... Do you wanna come sit under the awning? It'll be a bit drier," she offered.

"I'm okay," he shook his head.

Eva sighed to herself, "Then, can I sit with you?"

He glanced at her again, surprised this time, but he agreed anyway. He moved over so she could sit. The roots and dirt were damp and sludgy beneath her, and she tried to sit on the actual tree as much as possible to save her jeans. Nonetheless, she sat with the young tween in silence at first, just listening to the rain patter in the grass.

"I understand why you're out here, you know," she said, "I know this is all really scary, and you probably love your mom a lot. But you know... I just saw her, she looks... she looks okay," she wasn't sure why she was trying to comfort this boy, but hell, she wasn't a monster.

"I know, I talked to her last night," he mumbled.

"So, why are you out here? Too many grown ups in one room?" she tried to joke.

Theo shrugged, staring at her with dark blue eyes that almost matched her shade, "I thought you wouldn't want to see me," he admitted.

"What?" though she wished she didn't know the answer.

"Well, after your graduation, and you yelled at mom and you just didn't even acknowledge us. I thought you might hate us -- or me, I guess," he explained, "And you know, she was sick and you weren't picking up her calls and whatever..."

Guilt riddled up her spine, she ought to have known the consequences of her actions would come back to bite her in the butt. Eva shook her head.

"Theo, my problems with my -- with our mom are between us. They have nothing to do with you, I swear," she assured.

"Then why were you so mean to me and my dad?" he asked.

"Because I was really angry. And that's not a good excuse," she sighed, already feeling her hair becoming damp and heavy, "But I shouldn't have taken it out on you and your dad, I admit it. You did nothing to warrant any of this. But you also have to understand that our mom did something really hurtful, not just to my dad but to me and my siblings,"

Theo nodded, "Your sister said you're not talking to your mom,"

"Yeah, I haven't," Eva admitted, "I have this theory that every problem that I have, and every person who pisses me off, I can just uproot myself and cut them off with no consequence. I was building a new life in California without truly realizing how my leaving affected my family,"

Theo was quiet for a little while, his eyes stayed averted to the soggy grass, it almost seemed as though Eva wasn't sitting beside him. All she could hear was the rain battering down around them and she tried to rub at her arms to ward off the chills racing up her body. Theo sighed softly, then.

"I wish I could run away," he said.

"Why?" Eva asked.

He shook his head, staring out into space, "I just do,"

"Is it because of all of this hospital stuff?"

"... I think my parents are gonna' get a divorce,"

Eva certainly hadn't been expecting that. She stared hard at the teenager, processing her disbelief, "What?"

"Dad caught mom on the phone with some guy she works with and I heard them fighting about it," he explained, "She promised over and over that she wouldn't talk to him again, but then I caught her on the phone again and she made me promise up and down not to tell dad. I mean, if this wasn't as big a deal as she said, she wouldn't make me swear not to tell, right?"

A sickening sensation of deja vu overwhelmed her, "Oh my God," she muttered, "Stupid bitch,"

Theo looked to her tentatively, "That's what happened to you, right? She left your dad for mine?"

Eva shook her head; if she didn't need to throw up before, she certainly did now. What hurt more was that Theo was around her age when the first cycle happened, and she knew what was coming for this kid. He didn't deserve her anger, but he certainly didn't deserve their mother's infidel tendencies.

"Yeah, it kinda' happened like that," she nodded, "You never told your dad?"

"She got sick before I could," Theo replied, "And it didn't seem like a good time. I hate what she did, but I don't want her to die. Is that wrong?"

"No. At the end of the day she's still your mom," Eva sighed, "But she had no right to put that responsibility on you. That's bullshit -- sorry,"

"It's fine. She had no right to do that to you, either," he said, "Do you still love her?"

The simple answer was no, because she hadn't spoken to her in years. However, she had secured a flight home within weeks to come and help her, knowing fully well she didn't have to do that. Despite how flighty her mother was, she was still her mom, she still loved her. And that was the fucking worst.

"I do," she sighed, "I don't want to, but she's still my mom. And I guess I had to come back and face her at some point," she nudged him gently with her shoulder, "You know, we could go in and face her together?"

Theo glanced at her with unease, "Do I have to talk to her about the other guy?"

"No. Not yet," she replied, "But we're just going to worry about the things that we can control," she stood up and dusted the mud off her pants, holding out her hand to him, "You ready?"

With a little hesitation at first, Theo reached for Eva's hand and she pulled him to his feet. She was startled to find her had reached her height now, he was only a little thing last she saw him. But then he did get his height from his dad, that much was clear. They shared the same nose, cheekbones, and the same stormy shade of blue eyes.

"Let's go,"

On the sunnier side of the coast, Pluto had slumped himself under the window, trying to get some sleep amongst the noise. Pepper was beside him, curled up and not giving much a care for what was going on around them. Remington was none the wiser, feeling a pulsing pressure at the forefront of his head as he stared blankly at the piano keys.

"I give up," he grumbled, "Let's cancel the album and fuck off the Maldives for a while,"

Chris rolled his eyes at his desk, spinning around in his chair, "C'mon man, you can't think that way. We've done a lot of work, already!"

"He's just frustrated," Sebastian sighed from the couch, "We can move on to another track for now,"

"Until we loop back to this one and stall out again," Emerson replied, leaning over his drum set.

Chris was baffled in his seat, his long legs splayed out across the floor, "I can't believe what I'm hearing. You guys are burned out already?"

"To be fair, Seb is cooking all of Thanksgiving dinner," Remington said, glaring at his big brother, "And he's not letting us help,"

"Do you even know how to stuff a turkey? Or make the stuffing for turkey?" Sebastian replied.

"We would if you wanted to teach us," Emerson said.

"That involves you getting up before eleven," Sebastian shot back.

"Okay, I've heard enough," Chris stood up, waving at the boys, "I know you guys are probably stressed, you're tired, there's still a lot going on. But don't let go of why we're doing this," he grabbed Remington's notebook, "This song is the pinnacle for what this album will look like, it has parts of each of you chopped up and sautéed together like a nice osso bucco!"

Sebastian cocked a brow, "You don't chop up osso bucco," he pointed out.

"You know what I mean. C'mon," he pointed to Remington and Emerson, "Emerson, get on the piano. Remington, go to the mic. Sebastian, set the metronome,"

The boys switched accordingly, Emerson getting comfy at the piano and Remington standing behind the mic set. He jumped up and down a few times, trying to get himself back into the zone.

"Now listen to me," Chris took him by the shoulders, "Clear your mind, everything is good right now. Focus on what this piece of music represents to you. Don't force it, just let it go," Chris was right, they had worked too damn hard to burn out now.

So Remington was patient, listening to Emerson break into the beginning chords in time with the metronome. The sample was a beautiful bar of notes he'd compiled and slaved over for nearly half a decade, and he was proud of his and his brothers' composition of it. He tried to relax, taking Chris' advice to think about what this song meant to him, what it meant to his brothers, his mom, their fans, and Eva, of course.

“Am I being ridiculous?” she asked. 

“No,” he replied swiftly, “If it was me I’d be uncomfortable, too. But you have been so brave up to this point, if you just – close your eyes, take some deep breathes, you’ll be alright,”

God, he missed her so much. He knew that she was okay though, and if she was here she'd be filling him with as much encouragement as she could; she'd probably have a few unique ideas of her own, too. The more he thought about it, the closer the pre-chorus came to its edge, there was this reinvigoration that flooded through Remington, and as he opened his mouth the next line came out so naturally...

"Close your eyes and exit life tonight You'll be just fine, you'll be alright It's time we start escaping Fever dream, the lights are fading"

Emerson kept playing, riffing off of what he could from his brother's improv, though it was hard for him to not lose his concentration. Sebastian and Chris were sitting back in awe as he sang, and Chris was so happy he'd remembered to record the voice note for their archives. Every word and riff sounded so fluid, just as though it was all meant for that particular song.

It was perfect.

"Take my hand to Neverland, you'll see We can be free, we can be anything Just you and me Fever dream, the lights are fading"

The piano came to a sharp close but Emerson stayed on the bench, his dreary eyes blown wide. Sebastian was sat back in complete disbelief, feeling as though he'd found the missing piece to the jigsaw puzzle he'd lost long ago. And Chris had his hands tangled in his crazy mop of hair, completely blown away at the damn bursting to letting the breakthrough overwhelm them all.

Remington pulled the headset off, looking at each of the guys tentatively. None of them had said a word up until that point.

"... Was that okay?" he asked.

Chris didn't say a word at first; instead he got to his feet, strided over to the younger singer, took him by the shoulders and placed a sloppy, wet kiss on his cheek.

"That was brilliant. Fucking brilliant!" he exclaimed, "You fucking did it, Remington!"

Relieved but still unsure, Remington looked to his brothers for their opinion.

"Fucking sick," Emerson gaped.

"Where did that come from?" Sebastian asked, "It's taken us months to get a chorus!"

"I don't know," Remington shrugged, "I just relaxed and it came so naturally,"

Chris slapped him on the back, "That is exactly what Oprah calls an 'ah ha' moment. Beautiful! Hold on, lemme' get the voice note!" and he went to grab his phone.

"We can fix up the guitar riff for the chorus but I think it's perfect," Sebastian nodded.

"Should we do it again?" Remington asked.

"Absolutely, this time take it from the chorus and just let it flow into the next verse," Chris directed.

An incredible weight had been lifted off of Remington's shoulders as the band spent the afternoon working and redrafting their anthemic new masterpiece.

None of them were the wiser to Pluto sniffing around the front yard, having slipped his limber body out of the open window without anyone noticing. He was sniffing around the bushes, picking up on the small rodents and bugs that had passed by, or the occasional big dog that had stopped to mark their territory on the street.

The pale tabby, ever so curious, crawled out between the fence and found himself in the middle of the sidewalk. He looked up across the street, registering enough to know that the building across from his was where he lived. He also noted the little bird sitting up on the balcony, minding his own business...

Pepper meanwhile had woken up from her brief nap, rolling over and perplexed to find Pluto wasn't beside her. She could smell his scent above her, locking her gaze to the window and she knew what the tabby had done.

Her piercing, high pitched bark echoed through the house, over and over again. Emerson called for her to quiet down but Pepper was unrelenting. She ran over to the humans, barking over and over again and trying to crawl up Emerson's leg for attention. He picked her up to coddle her but she still wouldn't relent, trying to squirm away.

"What's wrong with her?" Sebastian asked.

"I don't know, I've never seen her like this," Emerson replied, setting her down. Pepper took off in the direction of the window and doubled back, zipping back and forth over and over again on her tiny legs.

"Is she trying to get us to follow her?" Chris asked.

Remington chuckled, "She's having her Lassie moment. What is it, girl? Is Timmy stuck in the well?"

Pepper kept barking, so Emerson decided to indulge her. They followed the teacup Pomeranian towards the front window and she tried to crawl up on her hind legs, attempting to crawl up to the window.

"Does she want to go outside?" Chris suggested.

Emerson opened the door for her and Pepper darted out, continuing to bark and jump at the gate. As he walked out, Remington suddenly realized that he hadn't seen Pluto; he hadn't seen him in a while.

He looked up at Eva's complex and put two and two together, "Fuck, Pluto ran away,"

Remington darted out of the yard before it could register with the other guys, though they followed him none the less. He knew Pluto missed Eva, and the damn cat probably figured he would find her at her loft. God forbid anything happened to Pluto.

"Pluto!" he called as he ran into the courtyard, "Pluto!" the guys called out with him, with Sebastian throwing in a "Here pussy!" time and again.

But then they heard it, a deep, sharp hissing followed by frantic shouting and a bird furiously chirping.

"You get away from my bird you little murderer!" Candace had appeared on her terrace, swinging a broom at Pluto as he balanced on Eva's railing. Her next swing smacked across the cat and sent him flying off the terrace, and Remington was helpless to watch as he plummeted into the bushes below with a blood curdling yowl.

Remington dove in after him, not caring for the brambles poking and scratching his arms open as he searched desperately for Pluto, "Holy shit! Pluto! Pluto! Where are you, boy?" Emerson followed him to try and help.

Chris was at a loss for words, trying to wrap his head around how the fuck they got from an 'ah ha' moment to crazy bird lady, while Sebastian stared up at Candace in shock and he started screaming at her, "What the fuck, lady! Are you fucking nuts!"

Candace peered over her terrace and she shouted back, "I told that girl! I told her to keep her cat away from my bird or there would be consequences!"

"He wasn't even on your balcony!" Sebastian shouted back, "He was just trying to go home!"

Candace waved the broom around, her hair curlers flying loose as she screamed, "He was trying to eat my precious little bird! And you're all trespassing!" Sebastian and Chris jumped back just as she hurled the broom at them. Remington and Emerson shuddered at the sudden impact behind them. But Remington moved back another bramble branch, and there he found poor Pluto struggling to get to his feet. Neighbours meanwhile began to poke their heads out, curious and alarmed to the commotion outside.

"Shit," Remington was careful to pull Pluto out without doing much more damage. He was covered in dirt and pieces of bramble and his ears twitched up and down, he curled up into Remington's chest but his claws flexed in and out, one of his front paws were curled up underneath him. Remington's panic went into hyperdrive.

"Is he okay?" Chris asked, both him and Sebastian staying a foot out of the courtyard.

"He hurt his leg," he huffed.

"I guess cats don't always land on their feet, then," Emerson muttered.

They all jumped when they heard a sharp smash behind them. Candace had thrown a terra cotta pot them and she continued to yell and cuss, "Get that fucking fleabag out of here!" and she hurled another pot at them. They all jumped back.

"Holy fuck! She's crazy!" Emerson gaped.

Sebastian scoffed, "Yeah, and she just tried to attack us on public property!" he called up to her.

"You all get out of here or I'll call the cops!" Candace screamed.

"Don't worry! The cops will be called, alright!" Sebastian snapped back.

"Forget the cops!" Remington exclaimed, "We gotta' get Pluto to a vet!"

Eva's hand shook as she grasped the door handle, pushing her way in and Theo followed sheepishly behind her. The whispered conversation came to a halt and both of their dads turned in their seats, unsure and skeptical as they found their rain-drenched kids in the threshold.

"Dear God, what happened to you two?" Eva's father asked.

"It's very clear what happened to them, Ivan," Julian replied.

Eva sniffled into her sleeve, biting her tongue from remarking with snark. Instead she took a deep breath as she stood before them, her eyes narrowing at the tablet sitting propped against her father's books. Her mother was still on screen tied up in tubes and bathed in bright light, a slimmer version of whom she once was.

"Can I have a minute with her?" she asked the fathers. They both looked to each other unsure, with Ivan turning to the tablet for Lydia's approval. Eva refrained from rolling her eyes.

"Is that okay with you?"

"Of course," Lydia nodded.

Julian began to stand, "Alright, we'll give you a --"

"Don't bother," Eva took the tablet off the table, "We'll be in your study, Dad,"

Her father watched her, trying to keep the fretfulness off his face as Eva disappeared down the hallway, he grimaced in his seat as he heard the door to his study close.

Julian turned to his son, "What did you two talk about out there?"

Theo simply shook his head, his soaked hair swinging from side to side, "Nothing much,"

In the closed confines of the study, the first thing that hit Eva was the smell of hot paper out of the printer, mingled with the bitter stench of her dad's humidifier for his cigars. She sat in his chair and placed the tablet on the desk, staring at the pixelated visage of her mother. Lydia smiled endearingly at her.

"Hi Eva," she spoke tentatively.

Eva took another deep breath, "Hi,"

"It's been too long," she mired, "You look beautiful!"

"Thanks. How long have you been... sick?" Eva asked slowly.

Lydia shrugged, "About a year. It only got super bad the last few months. I appreciate you coming out, Eva,"

"Suppose I had to come home at some point," Eva replied, "I just didn't think you'd be in the city when I had,"

"I haven't been flying -- for obvious reasons," Lydia chuckled, "Did you see Theo?"

"Yeah, we talked," she nodded, "He was sitting out in the rain,"

Lydia's eyes went wide, "Well dear God, what was he doing that for?"

"He's scared for one. His mom is dying," Eva pointed out.

"Oh please, I'm not dying," she replied, reaching up to fix her hair. Eva noted how she wasn't looking at her so much as she was watching her own appearance in the box in the corner.

"You're not dying?" Eva popped a brow, "Because Dad certainly made it seem like the opposite when he called me,"

Lydia rolled her eyes, "Huh. Leave it to Ivan to over exaggerate this stuff,"

"They might have to cut me open to give you my kidney. You call that exaggerating?" she scoffed.

"I call it proof that you still love your mother," Lydia replied.

"Of course I still love you," Eva grumbled, "Whether or not I like you is a different story altogether,"

"Eva please, you honestly still can't be mad about this. It's been ten years,"

She sloughed it off as though she was a kid with a bad report card and being nagged by her parent to do better. She was so blasé about everything, and despite it all Eva tried to keep her cool.

"It hasn't been ten years for Theo. His own personal hell might be starting," she snapped back.

"What are you talking about?" Lydia asked.

"You know what I'm talking about. You're having another affair, Lydia," Eva confronted her outright, doing her best to keep her voice low. Her anger however was boiling steadily in her gut.

Lydia seemed taken aback, doing her all to collect her composure from the outburst, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on Lydia. Of all the people you wanna' play dumb with, don't pick me," Eva huffed, "Theo told me about the other guy. What does he do for the airline, another pilot?"

"Eva, you're being ridiculous. And stop calling me 'Lydia', I'm your mother," Lydia replied sharply.

"My mother?" she scoffed back, "My mother would've at least have the decency to call and ask me if she could bring her second family to my college graduation,"

"Your father said it was fine," she argued.

Eva's fists clenched, "Because like it or not, Dad still loves you! For the life of me I don't understand why!" she exclaimed.

"Your father and I still have a lot of mutual respect for each other," Lydia replied hastily, in the background there was an incessant beeping that grew quicker and quicker in beat.

"If you had any respect for Dad then you would've left him first, then started the affair with Julian," Eva countered, "And you clearly don't have any respect or regard for him because you're doing it again. I'm not an idiot Lydia, and neither is your son!"

"Okay, okay, enough of this!" Lydia snapped, "I am in the hospital with kidney failure for God sake, I don't want to talk about this with you!"

Before Eva could refute a nurse came over to Lydia, clearly having set off whatever device she was hooked up to to track and calm her heart rate. She assured the nurse she was fine, smiling graciously at her.

"I'm just talking to my daughter, this is her," she panned the camera towards the nurse, dressed up in full gown, mask, and gloves. She barely flitted a glance Eva's way as she readjusted settings on the machine and went off to her next duty.

Eva was appalled. Her mother was hooked up to machines of all sorts, trying to defend her own disgusting actions and meanwhile was showing off her kid to some random nurse who -- very clearly -- couldn't give two shits.

"Are you okay?" Eva asked as the camera focused back on Lydia.

"No, you're setting my heart monitor off," she groaned, "Why don't you pass the tablet back to your Dad?"

"No, I mean are you okay psychologically?" Eva asked.

"Well, of course I am! I've been locked up here for weeks now, practically surrounded by Armageddon. You'll forgive me if I'm a little testy," Lydia shook her head, "Evalina, think of me what you will but I am still your mom. I did everything I could to be a good mother to you, Greg, and Magda. And course I still love and respect your dad, you think if I didn't you would be here?"

"Excuse me?" Eva narrowed her eyes at her.

"You are a refined, beautiful, intelligent young woman. You clearly inherited it all from me," Lydia began to smile, it wasn't comforting so much as she began to creep Eva out, "I remember everyone we'd pass on the streets, they'd stop and gush about how beautiful you are; how you looked so much like me,"

Eva skidded back in her chair, feeling as though the tablet was a lecherous black hole that was threatening to suck her into whatever delusion Lydia had entered.

"Okay, Lydia --"

"Wait, wait Eva. I know we've had our differences, but even you have to admit I was a good mother, right?" she wasn't sure Lydia was asking her or assuring herself.

"What?" Eva gawked.

"I was a good mother to you kids. I took care of you, put food on the table, helped dress you and take you to school when I could," she replied.

"You fucking left us, Lydia," Eva gaped, blinking back the tears that were starting to spring, "There's divorced parents and then there's just not showing up for your weekend with the kids,"

"I know, I know. But I won't make those mistakes with Theo," she seemed to sure as she spoke, "I told Theo how it would be, and I promised him I'm not going anywhere. And thanks to you, I can keep that promise,"

Eva wasn't sure whether Lydia was purely delusional or her narcissism truly knew no bounds. A sharp shiver raced up her spine, recognizing that trying to reason with this woman was as fruitless now as it had been years ago.

Like floodgates, the inner recesses of her brain opened up and Eva could remember all the same conversation Lydia had with her, just as the affair with Julian was starting. She would promise and assure each of her kids that no matter what happened, she loved them all and would always be there for them. She remembered so clearly the way her father beat himself up after she left, sending himself and the siblings in a deep, spiralling depression.

"If you love that boy as much as you claim you do, then you'll be honest with your husband. The one you ditched us for to go be with," Eva said, trying to will her backbone to stay composed against her.

Lydia seemed to be looking right through her as she refuted, "What did Theo say to you?"

"He said enough," Eva assured her, "You need to be honest with them, Lydia. What you couldn't give me, you could at least give to Theo,"

"I have been honest with Theo," she assured, "He is going to be just fine. Just like you've been,"

Eva shook her head, "Have I been fine, though?"

"Of course you have! You have your own business, you moved to California, apparently you're dating some rockstar, too," Lydia scoffed at that, "You better be careful with him, famous people don't tend to be the most committed,"

Eva spoke before her brain could catch up, though if anyone had asked her, she couldn't even feign regret, "Like pilots, right?"

[rockingrobin69]

My year in fic 2022

Some lovely people on here tagged me to participate. In true Robin fashion, I waited till the last minute, but for a good reason. 

You see, for me, 2022 was year of the short story, year of the tumblr. And it just so happens that yesterday I’ve reached 200 shorts over the course of the year! Ranging from 50 to 2,500 words, in all flavours of fluff, h/c, angst, soft, you name it. 200 fics.

And... that calls for a bit of a celebration, I think. Of the Robin kind (some self recs, some ramblings, and a lot, a lot of love). 

Self rec - Five Fics I Still Think About Occasionally 

Opportune (100 words):  

They didn’t have any food, and the blanket in the boot was still dirty from that day on the beach, so Harry popped into Greggs for sausage rolls and transfigured his own jacket into something mat-adjacent.

as-you-wish (500 words): 

One year they went as Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf. It was Draco’s idea: he kept saying how funny it’d be, how fitting. “Seeing as I am, one must admit, a hugely bad influence,” he said with a kiss to Harry’s nose. “And you’re so easily led, if the Prophet is to be believed.”

Wholeheart (500 words): 

There was nothing he didn’t allow him, to say, to do, to needlessly, extravagantly buy. As if he’s made it his life’s mission to give Harry anything he could ever want. Like he was quite content with watching Harry let loose, with letting him melt and unravel and then joyfully, purposefully tie him back together again.

The possibly grave case of madeleines (900 words): 

Lo-Mal-Draco sighed. “I’m sorry to be bothering you with this petty business so early in the morning, but I’m afraid something’s afoot. After the grand job you did at Lancashire, I thought perhaps I could use your remarkable skills once again.”

The blush came on in bits and pieces, warm on his face. “I wasn’t exactly… just happened to be… would love to be use—of use—do you really think you’re in danger?”

“Not enough to warrant further delay on the tea, no.”

Charged (2,500 words): 

By the end of October Harry knew he had a serious problem. It wasn’t so much how tiny little changes made such a transformation in the place he thought he knew. Wasn’t the scented candles, or the potted plants taking over every flat surface, or the new rug instead of the hideous carpet, the soft one. It wasn’t even the new bedsheets that appeared in his cupboard, ones that didn’t make his skin itch.

It was this: in the middle of his living room, sprawled on the sofa in socks and a house coat—where the fuck did he even get that?—hair still wet, moaning with absolutely no shame around something chocolatey and terrible.

It was this: Malfoy wouldn’t leave.

Also, cheekily: this year I participated in three month-long fests -

28 drabbles for @hdcandyheartsfest (as gentle as you can imagine)

31 drabbles for @domaystic (truly truly fluffy)

31 entries for  @flufftober (you can - I mean you can pretty much guess. it’s SOFT.)

Ramblings:

The thing is, my friends, the thing is, none of this would have happened without you. None. Not one fic would have ever been posted if it wasn’t for your encouragement, your enthusiasm, your example and your love. And so this is in fact a celebration of you!!! Thank you! thank you! thank you! for inspiring, teaching, indulging, supporting, for being here, for being you. Thank you. 

Love: YOU! 

[cheolbooluvr]

tomorrow tonight

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pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader

genre: angst, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, mutual pining 

word count: 20.8k (ha ha buckle in) 

warnings: divorce, implied sexual activities (but no smut), profanity

a/n: it’s here!! first, i want to say thank you all for your interest in this fic; it was truly unexpected, but your support motivated me to finish this after months of sitting on it with no clue as to which direction i wanted this to go.  this started roughly three months ago when i started watching thirty nine (which i finished last night btw; go watch it if you’re into sad stuff), and also listening to loote’s song of the same name! smth abt tomorrow tonight + thirty nine angst made me want to write this sadness so...yeah. i truly did not anticipate this being my longest fic to date at 20k words, but here she is :’) thank you to @gyukult and @twogyuu for beta reading this bc i was too tired to re-read it myself LOL @_@ i hope you all enjoy it, and as always, please be sure to leave your feedback via reblogs/replies/asks!! <3 enjoy !!

tag list:  @itaewonsquad97 @yeosangsbiceps @haoraecane @dontflailmenow @flwrsol @blackswann-53098 @yjhdaily @kpopjackie @letskookandbaek @lovelywoo @chanreads @xmessaroundx @romromthedeer @soobin-chois @qy61 @chwebychew @ahgastayzen (if i missed you, i am SO sorry T-T)

my masterlist ＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／

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“Hey, jackass. You’re gonna catch a cold.”

Your voice filled the empty night air, crude words accompanied by the chilling winter wind. He was facing away from you, his back hunched over as he sat on the carousel in the children’s park outside your apartment. Even under the poorly-lit street lamps, you recognized the back of his head: the way his hair—cut close to his nape—faded into his skin, and how his white, cotton button-down shirt hugged his wide back as he rested his elbows on his knees. He was rubbing his palms together, his breath visible in the night as he tried to warm himself.

Dipshit, you thought to yourself. It was below freezing and he was out here without a jacket. 

He turned around to greet you with a smile, though it wasn’t the same cocky grin he usually gave you when you called him unpleasant names. This one was different. It was… sad. Given the way his hair was tousled, you could guess he had probably gone drinking with his coworkers before he came to see you.

“What’s up?” you asked, dropping the black plastic bag in his lap as you sat down next to him. 

“How was work?” he replied, answering your question with a question, something he knew you hated but still did anyway. 

“Fine. Same ol’, same ol’, ya know?” You stuck your hand in the bag and pulled out a cold beer; you had stopped at the convenience store just a couple minutes away and grabbed some drinks and snacks, figuring Seungcheol probably wouldn’t mind considering how much the man usually drank. Besides, you had been spending long days at the office this past week finishing a project for a VIP which didn’t give you much time or energy to cook at home, so this was your next best option. Looping your finger through the pull tab, the can opened with a satisfying hiss. Seungcheol followed suit with his can of beer, raising it to tap against yours before the two of you took huge gulps, each finishing with a loud, content sigh. 

“Oh?” Seungcheol moved his face to inspect the can closer. “How did you know this was my favorite?”

He chuckled when he saw the incredulous look on your face, the way your eyebrows seemed to go in different directions with your mouth slightly agape at such a dumb question. 

“You act like we haven’t been friends for a long time, stupid.” Of course you knew his favorite beer, but that begged the question: did he know yours? 

“Best friends,” he corrected you, which warranted a loud smack on his arm. He winced, and despite being a big boy with big, beefy arms, the impact you made caused his arm to sting. This time, it was your turn to laugh at the man rubbing the spot where you had hit him. 

Reaching your hand into the bag again, you pulled out a triangle kimchi tuna kimbap. Seungcheol snorted. No matter how much time passed, you were just too predictable. He grabbed the kimbap from you, tugging on the tab and expertly freeing the plastic from around the seaweed. He handed it back to you, your dumbfounded face causing him to snicker even more.

“You’re like a fucking magician,” you muttered. Even your reaction to him unraveling the snack for you never changed, reminiscent of the very first time you two met. 

He had found you sitting outside a convenience store in elementary school, eyes puffy from crying about who knows what, a discombobulated mess of rice and seaweed on the table in front of you. Seungcheol, even as a young child, was always considerate, so he had gone inside, bought another kimbap, and brought it out to you. You weren’t sure who this strange boy was, but the thought of trying to open another kimbap frustrated you to the point of tears—again. 

In a panic, he swiped it from you, urging you to quiet down so passersby would stop staring. The crinkling of the plastic was enough to spur your curiosity as you watched him move swiftly, pulling it apart with ease. 

“Here,” he had said, his voice octaves higher than it was now. He had watched you fondly as you devoured the snack, your cheeks full and a smile gracing your lips. 

Not a lot had changed since then, especially that warm smile of yours that brought him comfort after a long day. He chuckled as you shoved the rice into your mouth, the seaweed producing a gratifying crunch as you bit down. 

“You don’t change, do you?”

“What? I’m starving,” you said. 

“They don’t feed you at work?”

You shook your head. “Honestly, when I’m in the zone, I forget that I’m hungry until I leave.”

“You need to take care of yourself,” he nagged. 

“I do. I just sometimes forget to eat. It’s no big deal.”

Cheol took another swig of his beer, the cold liquid contrasting the burn of the alcohol as it went down his throat. “It’s no big deal until you get sick.”

“Okay, Dad,” you sneered. “Geez. I’m eating now, so it’s fine.”

Seungcheol gave you the look, and you groaned. When his eyebrows furrowed the way that they did, you knew he was going to lecture you. Part of you appreciated how much he cared about you, but sometimes it was too much. You had moved to the city to get away from your own nagging mother only to be accompanied by another nagging parent. “Don’t tell me you’ve been eating like this?” He took your silence as an answer and continued, “You need to eat real food.”

“Well, I don’t think this is imaginary,” you quipped. 

“I don’t need your sarcasm. I’m serious.”

“Cheol, I’m fine. Really.” Your limbs started to shake the longer the two of you sat outside. “Wanna come up for tea? Where it’s warm?”

“No, I probably shouldn’t,” he said, a sigh escaping his lips. “The wife is waiting for me at home.”

You cowered at the word. Even though he had been married for almost two years, it still sounded strange and unfamiliar coming from his mouth. 

 “I’ll call you, yeah?” He let out an aching groan as he stood up, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants. 

You nodded, but it wasn’t like he saw you, his eyes already fixed on his BMW. You watched as he left you on the playground alone, his body disappearing as he entered his car and drove off. This wasn’t an unfamiliar sight for you: Seungcheol’s back as he walked away. In fact, it was a sight that you knew well.

All too well.

———

“You’re stupid, you know that?” Dahyun’s words were piercing, but it wasn’t the first time you’d heard that come from her sharp tongue. As a matter of fact, it was almost a daily occurrence, some variation of being “stupid,” “clueless,” “naive,” or whatever word she could find in her vocabulary brought up whenever you mentioned Seungcheol. 

You stared ahead, your eyes preoccupied on the golden glow the light cast upon the bottles in front of you as the two of you sat at the bar on a Friday night. Dahyun’s glare could burn holes through your skull, but you paid her no attention, instead choosing to lift the glass of whiskey on the rocks to your lips. The smokey aroma hit your nose first as you braced for the impact of the harsh liquor on your tongue.

The first time you’d had it was in university—Seungcheol had somehow convinced you to come to his business club’s social mixer at the local bar everyone frequented. Even back then he had a wide frame that filled out his university jacket nicely, your school’s name embroidered across the back. He had excitedly introduced you to his club members and asked if you wanted anything to drink. Considering you’d had a midterm the following morning, you told him, “Just a coke,” but he had insisted you make it a jack and coke instead. 

“You like that?” he had asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s not bad. What are you drinking?”

“Just a whiskey. Neat.” Seungcheol had always been a goofy kid growing up, but when you two got to university, he had somehow grown into this handsome, charming man who you barely recognized. Nonetheless, he was still your best friend, and you were grateful he thought the same of you. Even then in the bar, you couldn’t miss the way some of his fellow club members ogled at him, but his attention was on you. “Want some?”

A sense of pride washed over you as you took his drink from his hands and drank from the same cup his lips touched, relishing in the jealousy of the other girls who wished they could be you. 

The moment the liquid entered your mouth, you nearly spit it back out into his cup. 

You hated whiskey. 

Yet, you continued to drink it on certain nights because you wondered if that’s what his lips tasted like. If this was the closest you could get to him, then so be it.

“God, can’t you drink something besides whiskey? Or at least add some coke like a normal person.” The tone in her voice made it clear that she was fed up with your actions once again. Yet, despite her constant pestering, you were her best friend after all, and her concern came from a place of love. It saddened her to watch you make one mistake after the other, but what if you didn’t want her best intentions? “It’s disgusting. I don’t know how you drink that.”

“Worry about finishing your cocktail before you nag me about my drink,” you replied, taking another sip of the forsaken liquid. 

“What’s up with her?” Another voice brought you out of your slight daze, your eyes moving to the bartender. 

“She’s caught up on him,” Dahyun spoke for you, leaning back in the stool and pretending to examine her martini. She set the glass down and fiddled with the olive in the cup, her attention turning to the man in front of you both. 

The bartender was wiping down a glass when he let out a quiet chuckle. “The childhood friend, right?”

“Vernon, please. I don’t need you involved in this, too.” Vernon was a college friend of yours and also the head bartender of this pub that you and Dahyun frequented. The latter swung her legs around on the stool to reposition herself to face Vernon, placing her head in her hands as she looked at him. 

“She’s hopeless. Help me out, Vern,” she begged, batting her eyelashes at him. 

Vernon blushed, his eyes skirting to the glass he had been wiping for the last five minutes. Dahyun made him shy, and you all knew that, but she didn’t care. He let out a huff of air through his nose, the corner of his lips turning up into a small smirk. “Look, I don’t want to get involved—”

“Then don’t,” you interrupted. You took another sip of the whiskey before swirling the golden drink around in the cup and observing the way it moved with elegance around the big block of ice. 

“But,” he continued, “I do think you’re an addict.”

You looked up at him, puzzled by his choice of words. “A what?”

“You’re addicted to him.” It was irking how nonchalant he was as he set down the glass. He propped himself against the counter, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up just below his elbows, exposing his forearms. 

“What the fuck?”

“He’s right,” Dahyun chimed in. You could see the lightbulb turn on in her head, and you were not ready for where she was going to take this. “He’s a drug you can’t quit.”

“He’s not a drug,” you argued. “He’s a human.”

“Ever heard of a metaphor?” she quipped back. 

Ugh. 

She took another sip of her drink before continuing, “Besides, he’s married.”

“Yes, we’ve established that.” You rolled your eyes.

“But you’re still caught up on him.”

The blood within your veins began to boil. “I’m not ‘caught up’ on him,” you disputed, throwing your fingers up to make air quotes. “He’s my best friend.”

“No, I’m your best friend. You’re in love with him.”

“I can have more than one best friend,” you argued back. 

“Yeah, sure. But he’s not your best friend if you’re in love with him.”

“Why can’t it be both—” you caught yourself. Fuck. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  

A shit-eating grin formed on Dahyun’s lips. 

Check fucking mate. 

“Look,” you began. Whatever came out of your mouth next, you knew neither Dahyun nor Vernon would believe you, but you’d give it a try anyway. “My friendship with him is more important than whatever feelings I have for him.”

“You’re telling me you’d rather suffer for the rest of your life if that means you don’t lose him?” Dahyun probed with a raised eyebrow. 

 “I’m not suffering.” Now, Dahyun knew you were lying by the way you refused to look into her eyes, your fingers fidgeting with your glass. 

“You’re pathetic.” 

You were used to the insults Dahyun threw your way, but this time, she meant what she said, and it pierced your heart knowing that this was what she thought of you. She chugged the remainder of her drink and slid the empty glass across the bar. “I’m going to go dance. Thanks for the drink, Vern.”

He nodded at her, watching her slink away to where the crowd of people were.

“Ouch.” You had completely forgotten about Vernon’s existence, typical of a guy like him who seldom had much to say. Even he knew that Dahyun’s words weren’t meant to be taken lightly, and he had to agree with her. 

Even you agreed with her. You were pathetic—waiting around for someone who would never be yours, watching him love someone else, someone who wasn’t you, and despite all this, you continued to stick around like a lovesick fool. 

So, yeah. 

The word weighed heavy in your chest as you tapped the counter signaling to Vernon that you wanted another drink. He handed you another whiskey, the strong smell hitting your nose before you could even bring it to your lips. Instead of curiosity, a wave of nausea came over you instead. 

Suddenly, whiskey didn’t seem so intriguing anymore. 

———

It happened while you were trying to forget him. 

They say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. So, that’s what you did. And that’s how you found yourself under a stranger that night, someone who had offered to buy you a different drink when he saw that yours had gone untouched for a while. 

Instead, he bought you a cosmopolitan, citing you might enjoy it more. And maybe it was a little presumptuous of him to assume such a thing, but you had to admit that it was certainly better than what you had been drinking all these years. It also made you feel giddier and more confident when the whiskey only made you feel sad, and maybe that was why you agreed to go home with him. 

It felt good though, his skin against yours, just the two of you in the darkness of his bachelor pad. The way he moved was gentle and careful, as if somehow he knew you were in a fragile state of mind. He moved his hands to your waist, lifting your shirt so gingerly as he slotted his legs between yours, pushing them apart to make room for himself on the bed. 

Your breathing grew heavy, and you closed your eyes. Suddenly, you were met with a familiar face: his frosty skin that contrasted his jet black hair, his long eyelashes that fluttered every time he blinked, those plump, whiskey lips that you so badly wanted to kiss—

“Seungcheol,” you gasped. The weight on your body was now gone and you opened your eyes.

Fuck. The man above you sure as hell wasn’t Seungcheol and he looked just as confused as you, if not more. 

You hated to admit it, but Dahyun and Vernon were right: you were addicted. 

“Shit. I am so sorry,” you blurted out. 

“Look, I don’t know who this Sungchil—”

“Seungcheol,” you corrected.

“Sure, whatever,” he replied, waving you off. “I don’t know who he is, but let me be the one to show you a good time.” Without missing another beat, he planted his lips against your neck, but the mood was ruined and you couldn’t go a single second without thinking about your best friend. You had a problem and maybe this was the wake-up call you needed. 

“Sorry, I don’t think I can do this.” You sat up and grabbed your things, fumbling in the darkness to hastily put your shoes on and get the fuck out of there. 

The night was cold—freezing even—the brisk air nipping at your cheeks as you waited for a taxi to come. A lot had happened that night, and as you stood there, legs shaking, you made a decision.

You would quit Seungcheol. 

For good.

———

Once upon a time, you and Seungcheol were terrible students: you would ditch class to go get rice cakes and sausage from the street vendor right outside the school, and when the bell rang, while most of your peers were rushing to get to cram school, the two of you would go to a nearby diner and dick around until the sun set. 

Yet, despite your poor habits, you still ended up in the top ten students of your class and Seungcheol, well, let’s just say he was lucky to have such a smart friend like you. Though, none of that mattered in the end as you landed your dream job doing branding design and marketing at a renowned company, and he was the department manager for a food supply conglomerate. One look at you two, and everyone would think you had everything you could ever want. And while that was mostly true, there was one thing you wanted but could never have.

Your best friend.

You were busy typing out an email to a client, your finger aggressively clacking against the plastic keys. If someone heard you, they might think you were chewing someone out, but you were just a loud typer was all. Everyone had already left the office, and you were the last one there, the lights turning off slowly one-by-one. That was your sign to leave. As you were packing up, your phone vibrated on your desk.

1 new message from Cheollie.

2 new messages from Cheollie.

Your eyes glazed over the notification. 

You desperately wanted to open the message, a selfish part of you hoping that maybe he would have some epiphany that you were the love of his life and that he’s so sorry it took him this long to realize. 

No. He wouldn’t do that. He was married. He was happy. He was happy and married. You would never be the reason for his happiness.

But… what if…? Your face was illuminated by the blue light of your phone, your eyes squinting at the sudden brightness as the lights around you shut off for good. When you opened his message, your shoulders dropped. 

Look at this guy LOL

[1 attachment] 

You opened the message to find a photo of some guy wearing denim shorts, crocs, and a cowboy hat.

Dear god. Is this what the world has come to? You let out a chuckle, your head betraying your heart as you went to type a response.

You stopped yourself. 

No. You shouldn’t. Replying to him would only open the door for conversation, which was the last thing you needed right now. 

The road to healing was a long one, but you could do it if you put your mind to it. Or, at least that’s what you told yourself every morning. In the beginning, it was difficult not to respond to Seungcheol’s messages almost immediately or send him pictures of what you were eating for lunch and dinner. But as the days went on, it became a little bit easier, the temptation fizzling out as you responded to him late or left him on read. 

At first, Seungcheol just assumed that it was because you were busy with work, but when he saw that the little ‘1’ by his message was gone and he still hadn’t received a response, that’s when he began to worry. 

To say you were surprised to see him standing awkwardly outside your apartment with a plastic bag would be an understatement. And also completely unhelpful if you were going to quit him for good like you had claimed. 

Yet, here he was, loitering in the cold, though this time, he was wearing his favorite maroon, Moncler puffer jacket. He was kicking the ground like a little child playing with the rocks around him until he saw your shadow. Your heart dropped when he looked up at you, his face beaming under the shitty light of your building. 

“Hi,” he greeted you quietly.

“What are you doing here?” 

“Geez, not even a ‘hi’ back?” he joked. 

To be fair, you were still processing his sudden appearance in front of your house. Usually, he’d shoot you a text or a quick phone call to let you know he was coming. But tonight, he was here, completely unannounced because a part of him wondered if you’d ignore him if he tried to reach out, and he was too scared to find out.

So, here he was.

“Hi, Seungcheol,” you caved, the tone of your voice sounding more like an exasperated mother than someone excited to see their best friend. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought dalkgalbi and beer,” he replied, lifting the bag. You recognized the black chicken on the logo—your favorite restaurant. You’d be crazy to say no, so you just nodded your head towards the entrance as the two of you entered the building. Pressing the elevator button, you stood in silence as you ascended the eight stories it took to get to your apartment. 

The path to your unit was second nature to Seungcheol—he had spent many of his days at your place even before he had gotten married. He even knew your passcode to get in, expertly entering the numbers as if he was the one who lived there and not you. 

Quitting him would be a lot harder than you thought. 

You sat on your couch, unpacking the bag while he moved effortlessly in your kitchen, from grabbing plates and utensils to filling up the water pitcher like it was second nature. You had lived in this apartment since college, and Seungcheol spent most, if not all, of his days there with you like it was his own home. You even had a spare blanket and pillow for him and, not to mention, the spare toothbrush you kept for him in the cup on your bathroom sink. Once upon a time, he had a pair of slippers there, too, and your mom would often mistake them for your boyfriend’s. 

“They’re not my boyfriend’s,” you’d painstakingly correct her, though you had wished they were. 

 If Dahyun had been longing for her best friend who was married, you would have called her pathetic, too. The more you thought back to that night at the bar and that stranger’s home, the throbbing in your head grew worse. 

“What happened here?” he asked, setting everything down on the table in front of you. Your apartment was in complete disarray, random pieces of paper scattered here and there, about three loads of laundry were piled on your couch. For the past few weeks, you had been so busy at work that you rarely had energy to clean or put clothes away, so in the mornings, you’d pick the least wrinkled articles and throw those on for the day, swearing you’d put everything away when you came home that night. But you never did. 

“Work’s kept me busy,” you stated, opening the containers of spicy stir-fried chicken covered in mounds of mozzarella cheese. The spice was the first to hit your nose, and you embraced its warmth briefly before digging in with your chopsticks. Seungcheol watched you fondly, a never-ending string of cheese stretching from the container to your mouth.

“Here,” he motioned, handing you a sizable portion wrapped in lettuce. You didn’t grab the wrap from him, instead just opening your mouth and biting a huge chunk off. The spice of the sauce was cleanly contrasted by the lettuce and the pickled radish that he had put inside for you. Continuing to munch on the dinner, you opened the can of beer and poured it into the glasses Seungcheol had gotten earlier. 

“Thanks,” you said as you chewed, huffing from the heat and spice of the meat. 

Seungcheol quirked his eyebrow at you, slightly aghast at the sight of your stuffed cheeks. “Finish eating before you speak,” he scolded, using a napkin to wipe the sauce from the corner of your mouth. It was the little things like this that always made your heart flutter, but when he was always nagging you, a part of you wondered if maybe Seungcheol saw you more as a little sister instead of as a woman. 

“You never answered my question,” you prodded, your eyes zeroing in on the shiny metal on his finger. He froze, pulling his hand away from you. 

“What, I can’t visit my friend?”

“You can, but you usually call.”

Honestly, Seungcheol didn’t have a good enough excuse other than, “I forgot.”

Deciding not to interrogate him any further, you accepted his response and moved on. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Yeah, of course. Anything for you.” And there it was again. Those killer words and actions that sliced and punctured your heart, slowly wearing it away until there was nothing left but bits and pieces. He was making this really difficult, but you were steadfast in your resolution: after tonight, you would quit him no matter what. 

For the remainder of the evening, you and Seungcheol cleared out the dakgalbi and several cans of beer while watching the latest episode of Thirty-Nine. It was common for you both to watch TV shows and movies together; though he was known for his intimidating look and build, Seungcheol had quite the affinity for romance movies and shows. In college, you would sometimes skip the parties and spend the night watching rom-coms instead. It was almost like a tradition for you two to have a marathon when you felt too lazy to do anything or felt that you “deserved” it after submitting your midterms and finals. 

You didn’t know this, but that was one of his favorite things to do with you until you started dating Yanan, a generally sweet guy, but he had a tendency for jealousy, and so your movie nights became more scarce. Seungcheol and Yanan never got along; Yanan didn’t like that your closest friend was a guy, and Seungcheol didn’t like that the closest guy to you wasn’t him. When the two of them were together, it was a constant competition for your attention. 

Yanan was your standard, run-of-the-mill guy from the countryside: gentlemanly, sweet, and he always looked out for you. You felt protected when you stood next to him. It didn’t help that he was also tall with broad shoulders (thanks to his history as a swimmer), and he had the kind of smile that lit up the whole room, that cheesy, Taylor-Swift-lyrics type of smile that was contagious. You were happy with Yanan. 

For a while. Those once saccharine smiles turned sour, and you had found yourself arguing with him almost daily. The problem? 

Seungcheol. 

Yanan had had enough of your friendship with him, forcing you to choose between your boyfriend and your best friend. And though you thought you loved Yanan, you were absolutely sure you loved Seungcheol too much to just throw away your friendship for a guy. 

Coincidentally, Seungcheol started dating Sookyung around this time; you were happy for him—of course you were—but you weren’t immune to the little green monster’s poison that seeped through your veins. Just like Seungcheol had seen less and less of you when you were with Yanan, the two of you didn’t seem to have many moments to be alone anymore. 

Sookyung was sweet, like, truly, genuinely the sweetest person you’d ever known. She was kind and beautiful and had long, brown tresses that swayed with her body when she moved. And most importantly? She made Seungcheol happy. When he introduced her to you, you wanted to find a reason, any reason, to dislike her, but she was flawless. When you swore like a sailor and sat with your legs wide open, she would cover her mouth when she laughed, her legs crossed like a proper lady. 

You were one of the boys, and she was Seungcheol’s girl. Still, you clung onto the hope that maybe they’d break up, and maybe you would have your best friend back. 

That never happened. 

What did happen, though, was the worst day of your life—the day Seungcheol got on one knee and pulled out a sparkly diamond ring, the words, “Will you marry me?” sounding like a foreign language coming out of his mouth. 

And lucky you, you got to be there for the supposedly joyous moment, but instead, your whole world had just shattered. Perhaps even worse than the proposal, worse than Sookyung saying “yes,” was when Seungcheol asked you to be his fiancée’s bridesmaid. What were you going to say? No? 

And so you, being the infatuated fool that you were, agreed, saying the little word that was so simple, yet so devastating. “Yes,” you had told him. “Absolutely. I’ll do it. Anything for you.”

Anything. 

To be fair, you thought maybe by then you’d be over him, dating someone else, someone who made you not just happy but happier. As if your life couldn’t fall apart any more than it already had, you were also heavily involved in the wedding planning process. Sookyung always asked you to help with this and that because she and Seungcheol “trusted your eye for design.” Curse your artistic gifts—you never thought they’d bite you in the ass like this. Yet, you obliged, going to cake tastings, helping Sookyung pick out linens, and lending a hand in  arranging the florist and caterers. Hell, you were practically their wedding planner. 

And what sealed your fate was the day you went wedding dress shopping with Sookyung. You wondered if maybe one day that would be you standing on the stage, mirrors and loved ones surrounding you while you evaluated the white gown on your body, clipped in the back to fit you. 

She was stunning. 

Stepping out of the fitting room with an ecstatic fitting assistant, Sookyung looked effortlessly beautiful in the lace gown, tulle draping down her sides in a stunning A-line silhouette. You were breathless looking at her, and you understood then, in that moment, why anyone loved her—why Seungcheol loved her. If this was the effect she had on you, you could only imagine how your best friend would feel seeing her walk down the aisle, and lucky you, you were going to be the one to bear witness to it all. 

“Well,” Seungcheol spoke, grunting as he stood up to throw away your trash, “guess it’s time to go home.”

You looked at the clock. 11:48 PM. It had been a while since he had been over this late, and you hadn’t realized how much time passed in your daze. 

“You should tell Sookyung to come over for dinner one of these days,” you proposed, though your words were a bit empty. 

“Yeah.” There was a pause, as if he was searching for the right thing to say. “I will.”

He made his way to the sink, ready to wash the utensils, but you stopped him. “I’ll do them. Go home.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s late.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

You watched him put on his sneakers, that all-too-familiar view of his back haunting you. He let out a deep sigh as he stood up again, turning to look at you. There was a fond look in his eyes as he pressed his lips into a tight smile, causing a dimple to form in his cheek. 

The thing about Seungcheol was that he hated goodbyes, and so he never said them to you. To him, goodbyes meant the end, and your friendship was forever. He was a firm believer in that stupid saying, “It’s not ‘goodbye,’ it’s ‘see you later,’” and as cheesy as it was, you obliged him, never saying “goodbye” to him either. 

“I’ll call you,” he said before turning to go down the hall where the elevators were. 

“Good, dickhead.” 

He let out a hearty laugh. Regardless of how crude your words were, they brought a level of comfort to him. You waved at him until he was no longer in your sight. 

Goodbye, Seungcheol. 

———

“Are you going to take it?” Dahyun exclaimed, grasping your hand in both of hers. 

“That’s if I pass the interview first,” you replied with nonchalance, taking a sip of your cosmo. 

“Of course you’re going to pass the interview. You’re going to get it, dummy. No one deserves that job more than you.” 

You hoped Dahyun was right. You had been with your marketing company for the past four years, and an opening for a manager position had become available. The only catch was that you’d have to move two hours outside of the city, but maybe that’s exactly what you needed. With him out of sight, he’d certainly be out of mind, and quitting would become easier than it was now. 

“You’re moving?” Vernon asked.

“Hi, Vern,” Dahyun said with a sly smile. You watched the bartender’s ears turn red as he nodded at her in return but turned his attention back to you. “Yes, she is.”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe,” you corrected her. 

“Does this have anything to do with your friend?” he interrogated.

“No.” 

Vernon shot you a pointed look.

“Maybe.” You chugged the remainder of the vodka in your glass, the alcohol burning your throat as it went down, warming your body from within. 

The following morning, you packed your bags and threw them into the back of your shabby Honda Accord—though it was old, you could always trust it to get you where you needed to be. You had taken a few days off from work to go to this interview; you needed a break, and maybe a couple extra days would help you prepare for this interview and, most importantly, clear your mind from everything that was plaguing you. 

It was only a three-day trip, but you were excited to get away and even potentially land this job—if not, maybe it was time for you to find a different company. Regardless of what happened, it was a much-needed break. In the days prior, you had made a sort of “breakup” playlist even though technically you and Seungcheol had never been together, but maybe blasting songs about how you deserved better would actually trick you into thinking such a thing. 

You deserved to be someone’s first choice—not their second—and you kept telling yourself this during your drive, the road to your hotel seemingly never ending. You pulled up outside a large building; the company had paid for you to stay here, and you were thankful for it. Despite your current pay grade, you were still a bit of a cheapskate, and if it had been up to you, you’d have booked a cheaper place, but this wasn’t your money, so you didn’t care. 

After you checked in, you were given a balcony room on the eighth floor with a view of the river. The floors were a clean, white tile, and it was a large, spacious room, one that was much too big for a single person, but again, it wasn’t your money, and you weren’t about to complain. You had a couple days before your interview, and despite being in a new city, all you really wanted to do was, well, nothing. You opened your maps app and looked for nearby restaurants and things to do—someone had recommended a walk by the river, and given your current view, it didn’t seem to be too far away. A long walk along the river sounded perfect. 

It was the best decision you had made—even though the weather was below freezing, the walk was refreshing, and you realized that you hadn’t had much time to stretch your legs these days. Your job required you to be glued to your desk and chair nearly 24/7, and you couldn’t find it in you to make time to go to the gym.

Sometimes, life was better when you didn’t have a plan, so you decided just to walk wherever your legs would take you, only checking your phone in case someone texted or called you about the job. The frigid air bit the skin on your cheeks, which made you stuff your face deeper into your coat, your hands shoved into the depths of your pockets, but this was a pain you preferred to the other one you felt in your heart. Not many people were out right now; most people, you assumed, were staying warm in the comforts of their home instead of taking walks along the river in glacial temperatures. 

When your legs began to grow sore and the muscles in your knees tightened, you decided that it was best for you to return to your hotel before you became too tired. The door unlocked after a melodic beep, and you immediately collapsed onto the bed, hoping the comforter would swallow you whole. The fabric was cool against your face as you stared blankly at the wall pondering your life—how did you get here, being hopelessly in love with your best friend? What would have happened if you had just told him no? If you had just quit him early on? Maybe you would have been much happier than you were now instead of running away from your problems. 

Hunger prevailed as your stomach growled; the prior walk had taken too much out of you that you decided you would just go down to the convenience store right outside the hotel and grab some ramen and maybe a couple cans of beer. A smart person wouldn’t have been so lazy and would have explored the area that they might be moving to, but a smart person also wouldn’t have been in love with their best friend or agreed to be his wife’s bridesmaid or secretly wish for him to divorce said wife. 

But hey, you weren’t a genius. Nor were you a saint. You knew this, yet you still hated yourself for feeling this way, but at the same time, no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t let go of your feelings for Seungcheol. 

You shook your head.

No.

You wouldn’t think of him while you were gone. Out of sight, out of mind. That was how the saying went, right?

Closing your eyes, you let the harsh hotel light seep through your eyelids. Just then, your brief moment of peace was disturbed by the sound of your phone ringing. 

Speak of the fucking devil.

You unlocked your phone and sat up.

“Hey,” you said, trying your best to sound enthusiastic.

Cheollie wants to turn on video. 

Accept?

Accept.

“Where are you? You home?”

“No, I’m… out of town.”

“For what?”

“Business meeting.” Obviously, that was a lie. You were interviewing for the manager position, and if you got it, you’d be moving out here for the foreseeable future. He didn’t have to know that, though. 

“Oh. Nearby?”

“Ish?”

“Give me a room tour.”

“Okay.”

You flipped the camera around and showed him the room the company had booked for you—a Premium Deluxe Queen Suite with a Balcony and View of the River. It was pretty fucking nice and you were thankful your boss was onboard with letting you come for four days instead of two. 

“Damn, luxury living,” Seungcheol drawled out. 

“I know, isn’t this shit nice?”

“For a meeting? When did they start rolling in money?”

“Gotta thank those angel investors for believing in us.”

“Are you eating well?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Cheol. What are you? My mother?” Your voice was starting to sound defensive, even you knew this, but you couldn’t help it. 

“You’re not eating ramen and beer are you?”

You paused, eyeing the cups and cans on your bedside table. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. 

“What’s the address of the hotel you’re staying at?”

“Why?”

“I’m gonna order you delivery.”

“I’m fine—”

“Address. Now.” You groaned and sent him your location over messages. “Room number?”

“808.”

“Okay.”

“You’re not getting delivery now, are you? I’m about to eat.”

“No, but expect it tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Tomorrow came when you opened your eyes, the sunlight barely able to come through those blackout curtains of the hotel. Propping yourself up, you checked your phone.

Have a good conference :) 

It was actually irritating how supportive Seungcheol was, but you guessed that’s what best friends were supposed to do. Be supportive and not fall in love with each other. Maybe you should take note of that. 

You murmured self-affirmations to yourself as you craned your neck towards the mirror, pulling the mascara wand up and away from your lashes to give them some length and volume. To pull your look together, you picked your favorite lip tint, a classy and chic mauve that looked natural but put together. 

Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, you adjusted your grey blazer and matching trousers and slipped your feet into your black block heels—you were going to make today your bitch. 

Your interview process was split into two sessions throughout the day: a group session in the morning and a solo interview in the afternoon. Despite your nerves and anxiety, when you arrived at the conference rooms of the building, a sudden burst of confidence surged through your veins, invigorating your spirit with such electricity that you nearly blacked out from the adrenaline rush. 

To say that you thought the day went well would be an understatement, and what better way to celebrate a good day than with some ramen and beer. The bell above the 7-Eleven door chimed as you nearly slammed it against the wall from excitement, whistling while your eyes scanned the various types of alcohol on display in the cooler.

Cass, Heineken, Corona, BudLight, Hite, soju, makgeolli, sake, red wine, white wine.

Hmm. Rosé seemed good. Maybe that and… peach soju, and… a Cass beer. It was a recipe for disaster, but you had two full days to recover before you had to head back to the city anyway. And you couldn’t drink on an empty stomach, so you grabbed several triangle kimbaps from the counter and threw them in your basket as well. 

Yeah, this was good, you thought to yourself, already feeling drunk on the thought of what the future would bring despite not having had a single sip of your alcohol yet. 

When you returned to your hotel, you turned the shower on, steam fogging up the glass immediately. You would have a relaxing shower and let your drinks cool a bit before spending the night drinking and watching whatever movies the hotel had to offer on the TV. 

The hot water warmed your skin and soothed your muscles; they had been aching all day, but you hadn’t noticed the pain in all your elation. The shampoo and conditioner smelled of jasmine, tangerines, and eucalyptus, which only alleviated your senses further. 

After your shower, you threw on the gratuitous robe the hotel offered, wrapped your hair up in your towel, and put the slippers—also complimentary— on to live your best, luxurious life. In all the buzz and enthusiasm, you had completely forgotten about Seungcheol’s promise of ordering delivery, that was, until you got another text from him.

How do you feel about steak tacos?

i’m more of a carnitas gal

Done.

Within the hour, there was a knock on the door—presumably your delivery—but to your surprise, your best friend (whom, mind you, you were trying to quit) was standing outside your hotel door, two plastic bags lifted above his head as he barged into your room without another word. 

“I thought you were ordering delivery,” you inquired, pulling the robe over your chest. You tried your best to hide the fact that you were completely naked underneath the white fabric, covertly grabbing your pajamas and underwear from the bed before sneaking into the bathroom to change. Fortunately, he had his back to you while he unpacked the food.

“I am the delivery,” he replied cheekily. God, you hated him right now, but the smell of those tacos were more enticing than your supposed hatred for your best friend.

“What are you doing here?” You stepped out, hands hurriedly drying your hair with your towel, though really you were hiding your anxiety. 

“I’m not allowed to hang out with my best friend?”

“I’m just…” you paused, contemplating the right words to say. Devastated? Upset? Shocked? What word could really capture the way you were feeling right then and there? “…surprised to see you.”

“Good, my plan worked,” he said, placing the bags on the spare space of the marble counter in your room. Pulling out the food, as well as several cans of beer, he looked at you with accomplishment. “Carnitas for the lady, steak for me.”

For the lady. In an alternate universe, ‘lady’ would imply that you were his lady, not just some word that wrung your heart dry like a towel. How in the world were you supposed to get over him when he was doing shit like this? Even then, you didn’t have the heart to turn him away, let alone be honest about the way he made you feel. 

No.

He could never know. 

It was better for everyone that your secret stayed exactly that—a secret. Sure, maybe Vernon and Dahyun knew, but that was enough because you knew that they weren’t children who would spread something like that without your permission. 

“Dig in,” Seungcheol said, his eyes watching you with anticipation. 

Eagerly, you picked up the taco, the aroma quickly filling your hotel room. The warmth of the tortilla and crispy pork was delicious as it melted in your mouth, contrasted by the cool, crunchy texture of the pico de gallo. Everything about this moment was perfect, again, minus the fact that the man you were in love with was married, the silver ring on his left hand glistening under the luminous hotel lights. 

Sitting on your bed with him now reminded you of the days before your lives got complicated, the days when you would spend just about every waking moment together. Especially after your father passed away, Seungcheol would always take care of you, unwrapping your triangle kimbaps and poking straws through the aluminum lid of banana milks. Back then, the only thing you two were really worried about was if you had enough crumpled bills in the pockets of your uniforms for snacks after school. You didn’t know what love was or what it felt like to be consumed by a poisonous jealousy that would eat away at your soul for years on end. 

Back then, things were simple. 

“Hey!” Seungcheol yelled out as you took a bite of your next taco. “Be careful, you’re going to get oil on the bed sheets, and then they’ll charge you extra.”

“You act like I can’t afford to pay for an extra dry cleaning service.”

“That’s not the point,” he nagged. He always nagged. Always. Whether it was about making sure you had your homework and pencils, or about the way you ate, he was always nagging. But a part of you liked it since you knew he only did it because he cared. 

Would he always care about you this way? It wasn’t a complex question, but the answer wasn’t so simple. What would happen when he left? Not just the hotel, but your life? When he and Sookyung would announce that they’re having their first child? Or their second? Third? Would he still make sure you were wiping your mouth? Would he still open triangle kimbap for you? Make sure all your banana milks had a straw through the lid?

“Are you happy?”

You were in the middle of a bite when his question threw you off guard; were you?

Even if you were breaking from the inside out, even if you were suffering through one of the most painful heartbreaks in your life, he could never know that you were unhappy nor that he was the cause of it. “Yeah,” you lied with confidence. “I am. Are you?”

He was staring out the window at the river as if the moonlight glistening on the water had hypnotized him.

“Cheol?”

“What?”

“Are you happy?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good. I want you to be happy,” you told him. It was true—you wanted him to be happy, but you also wanted to be the reason for his happiness. 

“I want you to be happy, too,” he said with a sad smile. You could tell he had something on his mind, but if you asked, then he would tell you what was bothering him, and that would only make it harder for you to push him away. 

After you had finished eating, Seungcheol took it upon himself to clean up (which only made the aching in your heart worse). He plopped down onto the bed where you were laying, your eyes fixated on the bright light fixture in the ceiling. 

The two of you didn’t talk about anything of importance that night—instead, you recounted high school memories, complained about annoying coworkers, and gushed about the ending of that drama you had been watching. Despite the cans of beer that Seungcheol had brought sitting out on your vanity, they remained completely untouched for the most part (Seungcheol drank a couple and you stole a few sips of his) since he had to leave soon anyway.

Or so you thought. 

Your conversations lasted hours, and before you knew it, you had passed out. The sunlight trickled into your hotel room as your eyes fluttered open to adjust to the brightness. When you adjusted your position in the bed, you felt something strange and firm under your neck—

Oh no. 

This was bad. Very, very, extremely, terribly, horribly bad. Seungcheol was next to you with his arm under your head. You were sure that nothing had happened last night—you were both fully clothed—but even if you didn’t sleep together, sleeping together wasn’t a good look either, especially if someone were to walk in on you like this. It wasn’t like you could easily provide excuses as to why you were so close to your friend who, mind you, was in a happy marriage with a woman whom he loved very much (and wasn’t you). 

Slowly, you rolled out of bed, cautious as to not disturb the sleeping lion next to you. 

Even though it was your day off, you had to get out of there because the longer you stayed, the chances of you doing something you’d regret for the rest of your life increased tenfold. All you needed was your wallet which was… right next to Seungcheol on the bedside table. Great.

Your footsteps were soft against the tiled floor, your socks doing a good job of dampening each step. Honestly, you weren’t sure if you were projecting some kind of fantasy onto him, but even while he was asleep, he seemed happier than he had been those other times you had seen him. 

Seungcheol had insomnia, but seeing him sleep so peacefully like this, his long lashes flush against his skin, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly with each exhale, his lips that you wish you could taste, just this once—

But you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. He wasn’t yours in a capacity that would allow you to entertain such thoughts. Yet, maybe you would just look…

His eyes fluttered open and now you were really fucked, your face only centimeters away from his. The silence of your room drowned out your thoughts and you stood up quickly. 

“Um, morning. I’m just heading out. I have another meeting with a client,” you lied. It was Saturday, but for all he knew, this could be a conference, and you were fortunate that Seungcheol had absolutely zero knowledge of the industry because you’d be more screwed than you already were. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’ll see you.”

Turning on your heels, you tried to walk away as quickly as possible, but you were stopped by the feeling of his hand grabbing onto yours. 

“Were you about to…”

Right then and there, the blood drained from your face and your limbs went numb. 

There was nothing more that you wanted than to disappear off the face of the earth, yet why was it that you were thinking about how good it felt to hold his rough hands? 

“I’ll see you later,” you blurted out, yanking your hand from his and leaving the room without looking back. Not even once. 

———

“Cheers!” The shouting of your coworkers and best friends were somehow able to drown out the pounding bass of the dive bar. Vernon had offered you and Dahyun free shots for the night, but since you were moving first thing in the morning, limiting yourself to a happy buzz was the farthest you would go tonight. 

“I am so proud of you,” Dahyun exclaimed, planting a kiss on your cheek. This was her drunk habit—kissing her best friend and getting extremely touchy, though you didn’t mind. She was cute, giggly, and of course, more bold when she drank. You wouldn’t be surprised if somehow she managed to go home with Vernon tonight with the amount of courage she now had in her system—about time, too. They were cute and you had been trying to get them together for a while now. Any success they had, they’d have to owe it all to you. 

“Thanks, boo,” you replied, the pet name coming out with ease as the alcohol swirled in your body. 

“Let’s dance!” She slammed her glass against the counter (this caused Vernon to wince at the idea of his precious crystalline being smashed into pieces) and was quick to grab your hand, dragging you out to the dance floor where you weaved through warm bodies moving drunkenly to the music. Under the strobing red, blue, and green lights, you let the music and the alcohol take control of your body—for once, it felt nice to let loose and feel all your worries dissipate into the night. 

On the walk home, your head buzzed from the drinks, and for the first time in a while, you were excited at the prospect of your future. Perhaps things would work out after all. As you neared your apartment, a familiar man stood outside kicking at the ground. 

“Cheol?”

“When were you going to tell me?” His voice was sullen.

“Tell you what?” In reality, you knew exactly what he was asking about, though you thought maybe by playing dumb, somehow that would prolong your encounter with reality, a reality that didn’t involve Seungcheol.

He furrowed his eyebrows. You hated the way he looked at you. “That you got a new job?”

A lump formed in your throat. Suddenly, it was hard to swallow. All the happiness you felt just thirty minutes ago disappeared in the blink of an eye. You thought maybe you could get away scot-free and disappear from his life quietly, but with him standing here in front of you like this, it was becoming clear that you had to face your reality. 

As you searched for something, anything, to say, Seungcheol began tapping his foot against the pavement, impatient for an answer. When you didn’t respond, he scoffed. “I thought I was your best friend.”

“You are—”

“So, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was going to—”

“When? Huh? After you moved?”

“What?”

“You’re moving tomorrow, aren’t you?”

How did he know that?

“Seungcheol—”

“I can’t believe you. You are so ridiculous.”

You pressed your lips into a tight line. It didn’t matter that he was right, that you were ridiculous—hearing that from him only annoyed you. 

“Well, now you know,” you responded, your tone dry and uncaring.

The incredulous laugh he let out stung and made your heart ache. “Yeah, and I had to find out from everyone except you. You know, you’re the one person I thought I could trust. I thought you trusted me.”

I do, you wanted to tell him. 

“You’ve been weird since that weekend,” he said, changing the subject. How could you not feel weird when you almost found yourself kissing your married best friend? If loving a taken man was a line you weren’t supposed to cross, then almost kissing him would send you straight to hell. Worse yet, you didn’t think he would notice.

But of course he did. He was your best friend after all, and for all the moments he could be dense as fuck, he knew you like the back of his hand—or, at least he thought he did. Despite his best efforts to decipher your words and actions lately, it seemed that every conclusion he came to was dead wrong. Even now, he couldn’t tell what you were thinking, your poker face doing a good job of hiding how you truly felt inside. 

“I’ve just been busy,” you tried to defend yourself. 

“No. You’re hiding something.”

“I’m not—”

“What aren’t you telling me? Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?”

You kind of were, but mostly you were mad at yourself. So much could have been avoided if you had confessed your feelings to Seungcheol in university when you had the chance. Foolishly, you allowed yourself to believe that your feelings for him were fleeting, a passing moment that would come and go like the seasons. Your love had no expiration date, you’d find out later. 

“No…” 

“Then what is it? Why are you acting like this? Why can’t you answer my questions?”

Something in you snapped, your eyes went red, and suddenly you were shouting at the man you had loved for most of your life. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know why I can’t answer your questions. I don’t know why I’m acting this way. What I do know is that I want you to leave me alone.”

“No.” His voice was firm like the grasp he had on your arms, his fingers constricting around your skin. “Not until you tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“I don’t fucking know!” Tears formed in the corners of your eyes as you tried your hardest to hold them back, your eyes looking at the ground to avoid the inevitable onslaught of emotion that would happen if you looked at him. 

“Yes you do! Look at me,” he said, shaking you. 

“Fine! I’m a fucking idiot, okay? I’m a fucking idiot who’s stupidly in love with you, and I can’t stand that I’ve been doing this for so long now, and I just want to get away from it all. I just want to get away from you.” 

Seungcheol’s face loosened as he slowly processed your words, his brain a jumbled mess. He eased his grip on you, making it easy for you to shake him off as you two stood there awkwardly. You turned away from him, wiping the tears that were now streaming down your face. 

You took a step back. “I think it’s best you don’t call me. In fact, I think we shouldn’t see each other ever again. Goodbye, Seungcheol.”

And without looking back, you turned your back on him, an ache boring through your soul as you walked inside your building. 

———

The past year flew by—you had settled nicely into your job as the manager for your marketing and design firm, and your new team seemed to love you already. You had an assistant, Chan, to help schedule your meetings—something you weren’t used to—but you did enjoy the convenience that came with having him there. 

Your fingers clacked away at your keyboard as you were preparing a presentation for a big client when a knocking on your door snapped you out of your zone. “Come in,” you blurted.

“Someone’s here to see you,” Chan said, peeking his head through the doorframe. 

“Do I have a meeting scheduled right now? I thought I was free until the afternoon,” you replied, not looking up from your monitor.

“Nothing’s on the schedule as far as I know.”

“Okay. Let them in.” Chan nodded and opened the door, letting the guest in. 

The moment you caught a glimpse of her face, you shot up from your seat. You recognized her bright eyes and high cheekbones, the way her long black hair framed her face perfectly, and the sheer elegance she exuded no matter where she went. There was only one thing that was different: her belly. 

Everything about her had remained the same except now her hands were holding her stomach. 

She was hesitant to come in further, and upon seeing the shock on your face, she wondered if being here was as good of an idea as she had intended. “Hi,” she said, her voice awkward like she was a teenager entering her first day of school.

“Sookyung?” You stood up immediately, rounding the corner of your desk. 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” she spoke. 

“Yeah… it has been…” You didn’t realize you were still staring at her baby bump until your office fell dead silent, the only sounds coming from your mini-fridge and your desk fan that you kept on while you worked. “Please,” you said, gesturing towards the couch. “Sit down.”

She must have been pretty far along given the size of her belly and the noise she made when she sat on the leather cushion, relieved to be off her feet. 

“Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea?” 

“I wouldn’t mind a little tea,” she replied sheepishly. 

“Is jasmine okay?”

She nodded. 

As you prepared the hot water, you kept your back to her, your brain running through every possible scenario as to why she was here. Yet, despite your desperate attempt to plan how you would approach this, you weren’t ready for what she was about to tell you.

When the water finished boiling, you poured it into the mugs you only pulled out for your VIP clients. “Be careful,” you warned her. “It’s hot.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking the mug into her hands. 

“So… what… are you doing here? How did you find me?”

Sookyung just stared into her mug, contemplating how to explain herself. 

“Sorry,” you blurted. “I… I’m just surprised to see you. How… how are you doing?”

She looked up finally and met you with a hesitant smile. “Seungcheol told me you got a new job here, and I have a friend who works here as well–but I’m good. I’ve never been better actually.” Your eyes fell upon her belly again.

“How far along are you?” 

“Six and a half months.”

“Wow, Soo, congratulations! You and Seungcheol must be so happy!”

Her face dropped at your mention of his name. 

“Actually, that’s why I came to see you.”

Your stomach flipped. “What do you mean?”

“We… got divorced.”

“You what?”

“You guys what?” Your eyes fell on her hands, a ring decorating her left finger. “But your—”

“It was a long time coming,” she chuckled softly. “This is from someone else.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean ‘It was a long time coming’? You guys were fine.”

“Is that what it seemed like?”

It was. But you also couldn’t remember the last time Seungcheol had talked about his married life with Sookyung. 

“We fought a lot,” she continued. “Like, a lot.”

“Soo, I’m… I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault,” she offered, yet an abrupt wave of guilt washed over you. “Do you remember our wedding day?”

You nodded. 

———

Of course you remembered their wedding day—who could forget the way Seungcheol looked at you when you arrived after telling him you wouldn’t make it? The two of you had gotten into a nasty fight just weeks prior when you had asked him if he was sure jumping into marriage was the right choice.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” he had said. In all your years of friendship, you had never gotten into a fight as bad as this one, but neither of you would back down because of your pride. 

“You’ve barely been together for a year, and suddenly you’re engaged and getting married? It doesn’t make sense!”

“No, you’re just sad, and lonely, and bitter because everyone you date ends up dumping you because you can’t give them what they want.”

“Fuck you, Choi Seungcheol.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yeah. You are.” He wasn’t. He was completely right, because you could never fully give yourself to anyone. Your heart belonged to one person, and one person only: him. But you couldn’t tell him that. 

“If you’re going to be like this, then get the fuck out of my apartment.”

“Fine.”

“And don’t even think about showing up to the wedding.”

You swore your heart dropped to the floor. You knew you should have turned around and apologized, but you let your stubbornness get the best of you as you slammed his door behind you. 

Neither of you meant any of the things you had said, but it didn’t reverse the damage that had already been done. You had practically been uninvited to your best friend’s wedding, and upon hearing what had happened, Sookyung was the one to reach out and tell you that she really wanted you there. You had tried to tell her that you were uninvited, but she reminded you that this was her wedding, too, but you held your line. And you were almost able to get away with it had it not been for Seungkwan begging you to drive him to the wedding hall after Soonyoung had woken up late. 

None of your other friends had known about the fight, and you fully intended on dropping him off and leaving until he dragged you inside. You had missed the ceremony, but the reception was in full force, the other guests mixing and mingling with drinks in hand.

“Seungkwan—” his voice echoed through the hallway, stopping when he saw you. 

“Seungcheol, congratulations!” Seungkwan exclaimed, approaching his friend with a big hug. “Now, where’s Sookyung?”

“She’s… in the other room,” Seungcheol’s voice trailed off, his eyes fixed on you instead. He had always been an open book, his emotions written all over his face, but that day, you couldn’t tell what was going through his mind. 

“Great, I gotta go see her.” And with that, Seungkwan was gone, leaving the two of you alone. 

“Um, hey,” you said. 

“Hey.”

“C-congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

The silence was so much louder than the hooting and hollering of the guests in the reception hall.

“I’m sorry—”

“Sorry for—”

You paused and looked at him. Clearing your throat, you asserted yourself. “I’m sorry for what happened a few weeks ago. I was being too overprotective of you when I should have just trusted you.”

 “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean what I said that night. I just—”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” you told him, wrapping him in your arms. “I want you to know that I’m happy for you, Cheol. I really am. You’re my best friend and you deserve to be the happiest.”

He returned your embrace. “You’re my best friend, too. I couldn’t ever stand to lose you. You deserve to be the happiest, too.”

“I am,” you had said, and though that was a lie, maybe it would be true one day.

———

“I’m not following, Soo. What does your wedding day have to do with your divorce?” Your throat suddenly felt like it was constricting, depriving you of the oxygen you needed to live. 

“Our wedding day… it was a mistake.” Despite everything that had happened, she still managed to smile. If you were her, you weren’t sure you could do the same. But she wasn’t you—she was Shim Sookyung, the girl everyone loved because she was just that kind and lovely. 

“There’s no way. You guys are perfect for each other!” Despite that deep-seated desire in your heart that you once harbored for Seungcheol to be yours, this new reality somehow didn’t seem any better. Sure, your best friend was single now, but why was it starting to feel like all of this was your fault?

Sookyung let out a chuckle. “You guys are too similar. Seungcheol said the same thing when I asked for the divorce.”

“Soo, I’m confused. What’s going on?”

“I’ve known for a long time that we weren’t going to work. I knew that Seungcheol’s heart didn’t belong to me, but mine didn’t belong to him either.”

“What do you mean?”

“I… fell in love with someone else. A long time ago. His name is Youngbin. During university, he had graduated and moved away, and I thought I would never see him again. And so I started dating Seungcheol to cope with my heartbreak. I didn’t think it would last long, but a selfish part of me wanted to hold onto him because maybe, just maybe, if I was with him long enough, I’d forget about Youngbin. But just before the wedding, Youngbin moved back and he reached out to me. He asked me to run away with him, but I told him no, I was in love with Seungcheol. We had gone through so much trouble to plan the wedding and invite everyone, I couldn’t just call it off. But I should have. I was a coward.”

“Soo…”

“I know, I’m pathetic,” she admitted. “In the beginning, things were fine. I thought, ‘Maybe I could see myself with Seungcheol for the rest of my life,’ but things turned for the worse quickly. We fought a lot over the smallest things, started sleeping in different rooms, and I was living with a man I didn’t know anymore. And you know Cheol, he never backs down.”

You nodded. You did know that, and you knew that well. 

“I tried, I really tried to tell myself that this was the right decision—that he was the right decision—but ultimately, I knew the answer. We both did. It was clear from the beginning, but he was too prideful and I was too selfish to admit it.”

“So, then what about…” your voice trailed off, but your eyes pointed to her baby bump. 

“Oh, it’s not Cheol’s, if that’s what you’re wondering,” she laughed. You wondered how even through all of this, she could be so calm and nonchalant. Sure, she had been nervous coming into your office, but now that she could get all of this off her chest, relief washed over her. “Youngbin and I,” she continued, now holding her belly. “We’re getting married.”

Your eyes widened and you swore you nearly dropped your mug (which, mind you, was still full of piping hot water). “Oh my god, Sookyung! That’s,” you paused, trying to find the right words, “amazing!” 

 “Thank you,” she smiled at you. “But this isn’t what I came here to tell you.”

Your eyebrows wrinkled with confusion. What else could she possibly tell you after dropping the bomb that she and Seungcheol were divorced and she was pregnant with another man’s baby?

“Seungcheol and I,” she continued. “We’re on good terms. He congratulated me on my engagement and the baby. I guess I just want you to know that we’re on good terms. I don’t have anything against you or Cheol. I love you guys, and I always will.”

If not for the sound of your team hustling and bustling outside, perhaps you could have heard your heart shattering. 

“Soo, what are you trying to get at?”

“I think you guys should be together.”

“No.” The answer flew out of your mouth before you even had time to fully process what she was trying to tell you. “No, I couldn’t. I can’t do that to you.”

“You’re not doing anything to me. If anything, you’d be doing me a favor because then I can stop worrying about you both.”

“Worry about us? That doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t make sense is Seungcheol and I spending four years of our lives denying our hearts and trying to find the answers in each other when they were never there in the first place. You may not see it, but he loves you.”

“No, he doesn’t. You should have seen us the day before I left. He was so upset with me. We’re not friends anymore, Soo.”

“You should have seen him when he came home that night. He was heartbroken. You’re his best friend—”

“Was his best friend.”

“No, you still are. Listen to me,” she said, reaching across the table to grab your hands. “You still are his best friend. I don’t know what was said that night, but nothing will ever change that fact.”

“Sookyung—”

“Listen to me. Trust me, if not yourself. You guys really are too similar,” she laughed again. “You should talk to him. Figure out your stuff. Be happy. With each other.”  

  You could only shake your head. How could she possibly know how Seungcheol felt about you? If you were him, you’d never want to see you again after what happened that night. Imagine the heartbreak he felt when you, his best friend, didn’t tell him the biggest news of your life. On top of that, you had confessed your long-time love for him and declared you never wanted to see him ever again. At this point, did you even deserve happiness? 

Why would he want to see you, let alone talk to you? 

“I don’t know if there’s hope for us anymore.”

“How would you know if you never ask him? God,” she huffed teasingly, “you two really are similar, and I hate you both for it.”

“We are not!”

The cackle that came out of her mouth was almost insulting. “He literally said the same thing to me. Just trust me and talk to him. Please. It’s the least you could do for me.”

“Soo, please,” you groaned. You couldn’t believe she was pulling this card on you as if you hadn’t just ruined her marriage and been the cause of her divorce.

“What’s stopping you?”

“This is all my fault—”

“It’s all of our faults,” she assured you with a squeeze of your hands. The laughter that fell from her lips was as charming as ever. “We’re all idiots.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “We are, aren’t we?”

“Promise me you’ll talk to him?”

Sighing, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no to her. “Okay, I’ll talk to him.”

She stood up from her seat on your couch, releasing your hands. “I should probably get going. Bin is waiting for me downstairs.”

You watched as she wobbled to the door. “Soo?” She turned around, surprised when you wrapped her in your arms. “Thank you.”

“Let’s all be happy, okay?”

“Okay.” 

———

Hey… can we talk?

Your fingers hovered over the ‘Send’ button before finding the backspace, the letters you had written gone in a blink. Since Sookyung’s visit, you had promised her you’d talk to Seungcheol, but every time you went to message him, you chickened out. 

It was only four simple words, but doubt overcame your best intentions. What if he didn’t want to talk to you? What if he was seeing someone else? What if that only made things worse? But then again, how bad could it get at that point? It’s not like you had much to lose anymore, but the mere prospect of making his loss in your life more permanent made your heart ache. 

Hot oil splattered against your skin, a miniscule moment of pain for delicious, grilled pork belly with pepper paste wrapped in cool, crisp lettuce. Your team had just landed a VIP client and it was all thanks to your hard work in gaining their trust. You were happy seeing your team’s bright, smiling faces, excited to do a job they were passionate about, and in theory, you were happy about the job, too. You wanted to be laughing and celebrating with them, but your mind kept looping back to Sookyung’s words.

You still are his best friend.

Be happy. With each other.

Taeyang, your lead designer, put a glass of beer in front of you, a shot glass of soju sitting atop a pair of chopsticks. “Drink up, chief,” he said cheekily. 

You smiled at him, thankful at his gesture. You slammed the table with your fists and watched the smaller glass fall to the bottom of the larger, bubbles forming as the alcohol reacted with each other, your coworker whooping and cheering as you chugged the soju bomb. 

Tonight, you wanted to be able to celebrate your wins with your team rather than moping over a message to send Seungcheol, so you locked your phone and put it on ‘Do not Disturb’ as you enjoyed the grilled meat and the company of your team. Your message to him would be a matter for tomorrow. 

Maybe.

By the time dinner ended, you had drank enough to have a good time and you truly had forgotten about Seungcheol. You were happy, giggly even, and hiccuping as you sent off your team one-by-one in their taxis. Fortunately, your new apartment was only a seven-minute walk from the restaurant. You waved goodbye to your colleagues before taking off towards your home. 

The frigid night air was refreshing against your warm skin, and you felt yourself sobering up with every step you took. Now, all you needed was a shower and to get snuggled up under your warm comforter. 

The light from the lobby of your apartment grew brighter as you got closer, but you noticed someone standing just outside the doors. You squinted to see who it was, maybe your neighbor Joshua who had forgotten his keys in his apartment again. But as your vision cleared, you recognized him immediately—how could you not know his shoulders, his hair, that favorite red puffer jacket of his, his hands shoved deep into the pockets? 

You were dreaming. You had to be, because why would he be here? Right? It didn’t make sense. Before you could scrutinize him any further, he turned around, a bit shocked to see you despite that being the reason he was here. In front of your apartment.

“Seungcheol?” Though a year had passed since you last saw him, his grip on your heart never loosened and you could hear it pounding in your ears. 

“Um, hi,” he sniffled, his nose rosy and his breath visible from the cold air. 

“What are you… how did you find my apartment?” 

“Dahyun told me,” he confessed. Damn it, you couldn’t trust that girl to keep information to herself, could you? 

“I… Why are you here?” Twice in one week you had asked two separate people that question, but you really didn’t understand why this was happening, and now of all times. 

“Can we talk?” The words you had struggled with for the past week seemed so effortless coming from him. Little did you know that he only came here on impulse because he found himself having a hard time sending you a text as well. 

“Um, yeah.” You motioned for him to follow you upstairs. The elevator ride up was quiet, which was now becoming more common for you two than not. It was strange, this new apartment of yours. For so long, Seungcheol had grown used to your old apartment, the one he knew almost as well as he knew you, but this one was uncharted territory for him. Even the elevator and lock outside your door were different. Never in his life had he felt so distant from you, and he hated every part of it.

When you entered your apartment, you haphazardly kicked off your shoes, still a bit drunk from earlier. He took his shoes off, too, arranging his and yours neatly by the door before stepping into your home. You went into the kitchen and turned the stove on, putting water into the kettle for tea.

“You can sit down,” you told him as you ripped the tea bags open. 

He sat down on your couch—it was stiff and much newer than the one you’d previously had. Less broken in, he guessed. In fact, everything in your apartment was new and modern in contrast to the items you had bought second-hand at your last place. His mind wandered as you lingered in the kitchen, afraid to turn around and confront the reality that your best friend (well, ex-best friend) was sitting in your home at that very moment. 

Did you ever bring other people here? 

Did they know your apartment the way he knew your old one? Jealousy seeped within his veins at the idea that that was even possible. 

Once the water was finished boiling, you poured it into two mugs with chamomile tea bags, the smell wafting gently into your nose. With a deep breath, you took the cups into the living room and set them down in front of him as you sat down on the chair adjacent to him. 

“It’s hot, isn’t it?” you said, your voice cracking slightly. Awkwardly, you stood up to open the window. Granted, with it being winter, you hadn’t opened the window for several months, so it was difficult getting it to budge now.

“Here, let me help.” Before you knew it, you felt the warmth of his body behind you. With his strength, the window opened easily, but even with the winter air coming in, the tension didn’t go down. 

You both sat down again and you took your mug into your hands. It was still too hot for you to be holding it, but the heat on your palms gave you something to think about other than what possible thing Seungcheol could say to you. 

“So…” you began, “how are you?”

“How have you been?”

You smiled awkwardly at each other, your grip on your mug tightening as a reflex.

“I’m okay,” you replied. “Tired.” The longer you sat there, the more you started to feel the alcohol take its final toll on you, your eyes growing heavier with every passing second. Seungcheol noticed, too. Deciding it was probably best he tabled this discussion for tomorrow when you were in your right mind, he stood up. 

“I think you should get some sleep instead.” 

“Are you sure?” you asked, though you weren’t sure what was really going on anymore. 

“Yeah, we can talk tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” His voice was soft, and even in your tipsy, sleepy state, it was comforting. 

You stood up to see him out the door, but your knees buckled from under you. Seungcheol caught you in time before you fell to the ground, helping you up. He should probably make sure you get to bed without hurting yourself before he left. 

“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked.

Pointing to the closed door in the northwest corner of your living room, he led you inside and let you sit on the bed as he opened your closet, looking for pajamas for you to change into. When he opened a drawer, his heart ached—he immediately recognized a small graphic tee that peeked out from the bottom. That was his t-shirt. One that you had borrowed one time in high school when you were repainting your childhood bedroom and then claimed you “lost.” He had gotten so mad at you that he ignored you for five days until you came knocking on his door with various sweets you had baked yourself as a peace offering. It was then that he realized he could never be mad at you for too long. And it was then that he realized he wanted you to be in his life forever.

He pulled the shirt out along with a pair of pajama pants and dropped it into your lap. 

“Can you get changed on your own?” he asked.

You nodded your head, the weight threatening to throw you forward. Seungcheol propped you up instead, helping you stand on your feet.

“Yeah. But don’t look,” you mumbled, pouting. 

It was probably inappropriate to be thinking this way, but Seungcheol found you cute when you made that face, your eyebrows furrowed, your nose crinkled, and your bottom lip jutting out as far as it could go. It was the same face you used to make as a child when things wouldn’t go your way. 

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “I won’t,” he assured you, turning around first just to be sure. He stood in silence, the sound of the fabric against your skin mixed with your subdued grunts filling the room as you tried to change your clothes in your drunken state. He knew he shouldn’t but he was slightly curious, so, Seungcheol, being the nosy guy he was, he turned around to peek at you.

You had somehow managed to put your head through a sleeve, your right arm moving freely in the head hole as you struggled to pull the fabric over your head. Seungcheol had to stifle his laughter as he watched your fight with the article of clothing. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“No,” you confessed. 

“Do you want some help?”

Silence.

“Maybe.”

“Okay. Here, let me help you,” he said, closing the gap between you two. For the first time in all your years of friendship, Seungcheol had never been so close to you in such an… intimate manner. He pulled the fabric up revealing your bare back; chills ran down his spine and he suddenly felt awkward. Adjusting the shirt so your head and your arms went through the proper openings, he pulled the shirt down quickly. “There.” Why was his face so warm? 

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

“Sure.” Moving quickly, he untucked the comforter from under the mattress and sat down on the side of your bed, tapping the spot for you to lay down. You gave way to gravity and fell with a soft thud, your head barely missing the pillow. It took a bit of rearranging, but Seungcheol was able to get you to lay properly; when he was satisfied with his work, he covered your body with the blanket, tucking you in. 

With your eyes closed and your breathing quiet, you looked so peaceful like this. Seungcheol tucked a stray hair behind your ear. He had done a lot of reflecting this past year, and as much as he wished he had gained some kind of clarity, instead all he got was a rollercoaster of emotions. He spiraled into a blackhole of ‘what-ifs,’ wondering if things would have been different now if he had just confessed to you before Yanan did, or if he had listened to you that day you asked him if he was sure about his marriage. 

“I hate you,” you muttered. The three little words pierced his chest, but he knew that he at least deserved that much. He hated himself, too.  

“I know,” he whispered under his breath. 

“I… was supposed to… quit… you…” Even in your unconscious state, you stumbled over your words as they fell clumsily from your mouth. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, not expecting a response.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Okay, then I’ll leave.”

“No,” you blurted, grabbing onto the back of his shirt. “Stay.”

Your eyes were still closed, but your eyebrows were furrowed, lips pouting again.

“You said I wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“Don’t go.”

The wall you had built around your heart suddenly came crumbling down, and this was the first show of vulnerability he had seen from you in a long time. Hearing the cracks in your voice, Seungcheol relived that sadness he felt that day you told him ‘goodbye.’ It was a painful memory, and he never wanted to believe you meant it, but your actions said otherwise. 

But here you were, laying so quietly in front of him, calmer than that night, your grip on him pretty strong for someone who was inebriated and half-asleep. You weren’t sure what possessed you in that moment—perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps it was the fear that if he walked out now, you might never see him again. 

Somehow, that one small movement made his breath hitch, his heart palpitating with such force that he was afraid you might hear it in the silence.

“I won’t go.”

And he didn’t. He stayed with you the entire night, using a spare pillow from the couch in the living room to lay on the floor. 

———

Last night, no, the entirety of this past week had felt like a fever dream. From Sookyung to…

Seungcheol.

You shot up in your bed, your head throbbing from the alcohol—you rubbed your eyes of the crust that had formed overnight, and it took a minute for your vision to clear up before you could see anything. Was he really here last night? Did he leave? Did you imagine that he slept there? There was a pillow from the living room and the spare blanket you had gotten for guests which you most certainly didn’t remember getting yourself, but nobody was there. 

Slowly but surely, you got out of bed and slid your feet into your plush slippers, your toes curling against the soft fabric. Opening the door to the rest of your apartment, it was dead silent, but the smell of grease was first to greet your senses. Upon closer inspection, the table had a bowl of rice and to its side, a plate of fried spam and scrambled eggs. There was even a small plate of kimchi, your favorite thing to eat after a heavy night of drinking. 

Your attention was caught by the slight snoring coming from the couch behind you; Seungcheol was laying on his side, drool coming from his slightly opened mouth. It was hard to stifle your laughter, but you didn’t want to wake him—with his insomnia, you wanted to make sure he got every second of sleep he could possibly get. 

What you really needed, though, was a cup of coffee. Figuring the large guy on your couch could use one, too, you perched onto your toes to grab your nicer mugs from the top shelf. These days, you had resorted to instant coffee mix in tiny paper cups you had stolen from work. Why you did this, you weren’t quite sure yourself. Maybe it was the novelty of drinking from the paper cups that reminded you of those late nights in the library and the vending machines, but something about it hit differently than fresh coffee.

Today, however, was a freshly brewed coffee kind of day. You scooped out two spoons of medium roast coffee and put it into the machine, the rumbling of the water and brewing surprising you despite how often you’d used it before. 

Deciding the breakfast he had (presumably) made for you wasn’t enough for two people, you took the bowl of rice and threw it back into the rice cooker to warm it up again. As much as you appreciated his efforts to cook, that’s the most credit he would get. Just one look at the dishes on the table and you could tell the spam was burnt and the scrambled eggs were too dry to be deemed edible. With a sorry heart, you watched the contents of the plate slide into the trash can. You’d have to remake breakfast, but you knew he’d thank you for it anyway. 

The aroma slowly began to fill your apartment, stimulating Seungcheol to wake up. 

“I made you breakfast,” he grunted, wiping his tired eyes. 

“I saw that, but this isn’t enough for the two of us, dummy.”

Hearing you call him that made him believe that things between you were almost… normal. “I wasn’t planning on eating.”

“Well, now you’re going to.” It was more of a threat than an offer, and who was he to say no? 

“What are you doing?”

“Frying the spam.”

“But I already made that…” his voice trailed off when he saw that the only thing left on the table was the kimchi.  

“Yeah, poorly. We can’t eat what you made.”

His signature pout came out in full force, his lips protruding from his face. 

The tension from last was almost nonexistent, as if you hadn’t gotten into a big fight and spent the past year not speaking to one another, as if you hadn’t told him you didn’t want to see him again. You stood in a silence that, once unfamiliar, was now more commonplace than you’d like, the only sounds in your apartment were the sizzling of oil on the pan as you threw on fresh eggs and spam. Unsure of what to do with himself, Seungcheol just loomed over you while you cooked the food—you kind of hated it because it felt like the times your mom would just stand there and watch you intently, like, what could she possibly want from you?

What could he possibly want from you?

“Okay,” you sighed, “breakfast is done.” With a swift turn of your wrist, everything came off the pan without difficulty onto the plate, the greasy smell stirring the appetite in your belly. Scooping two bowls of now warmed rice, you set them on a small tray with some side dishes your mother had left when she visited last weekend. 

You brought the food to the table, motioning for him to sit down, too. Like second nature, Seungcheol immediately grabbed a piece of spam and placed it in your bowl of rice. If you had told someone that the two of you hadn’t spoken or interacted in the last year, you were sure they wouldn’t believe you solely based on his actions. 

Yet, that was your reality: gut-wrenching heartbreak, cruel words, and a debilitating distance that you thought would solve your problems. The truth was that it didn’t. In some ways, it only made it worse. 

There are two sayings: “Out of sight, out of mind,” and “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

You, unfortunately, fell victim to the latter phrase. Though, perhaps “fonder” wasn’t the right word—a more accurate phrase would be, “Absence makes the heart wither away in pain and make you wish you could go back in time and completely re-do everything.” But that didn’t exactly fit on a craft store, cross-stitch pillow, did it? 

“Thanks,” Seungcheol mumbled, breaking the silence, “for cooking breakfast.”

You offered a quiet chuckle. “Re-cooking breakfast,” you added. “I should thank you for at least trying in the first place.”

He pressed his lips into a tight line, the skin in his cheek caving into that favorite dimple of yours. As you two continued to eat, silence prevailed and the tension remained thicker than the grease in your pan. Suddenly, Seungcheol put his chopsticks down with more force than he intended, which caught your attention mid-bite. 

“Can we talk?”

“Like, right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Um, yeah,” you said, swallowing your mouthful. You could feel your throat constrict, almost as if you were choking.

Seungcheol looked at the bookshelf behind you, his eyes glazing over as he contemplated how to start the conversation. “So…”

“So…”

“Sookyung and I…we—”

“She told me.”

“Right.” Seungcheol cleared his throat. “She, um, she told me she stopped by.”

“Really?” 

They still kept in touch? 

“Yeah. So, you know that she’s…”

“Yeah.”

He rubbed the nape of his neck anxiously as he stared at his bowl of rice that had been untouched this entire time. Where was he even going with this? On the drive over here, he had planned everything he was going to say to you, how he was sorry, how he thought that maybe he was in love with you—still in love with you— and how maybe, just maybe, you could give him another chance. 

Yet, now that he was here and you were there in front of him, all of those thoughts went straight out the window. 

If the silence wasn’t going to kill you, surely your anxiety would. Your knees bounced underneath the table while you clutched the excess fabric of your pants. 

“How are you doing?” you asked. Although you had spent the last year trying to let go of your relationship with Cheol, you had often typed the words into an empty message without hitting send. 

Just four words. It was only four words, but they held so much weight. Seungcheol had spent countless nights wanting to ask you the same thing, typing the question out before deleting it for the nth time because he didn’t have the courage to hit ‘Send.’  

 He didn’t think that he would hear the words from you, however, his brain working overtime to develop a response. “I…I don’t know.” 

You nodded. It wasn’t like you could exactly explain how you were feeling, how much of a toll this whole thing had taken on you even though you had moved far away from him in hopes that maybe you could finally move on with your life. 

Silence filled your apartment once again, and rather than eating breakfast as you had intended to do, both of you just sat there like two kids who had gotten in trouble and were waiting for the principal to come in. Only this time, there wasn’t a third person to come tell you everything that you did wrong. 

That would require that you own up to your actions, and that Seungcheol owned up to his—did either of you have it in you to do that? 

And even if you did, would that really change anything? Or make a difference? The rational part of you knew that it wouldn’t change much. Despite Sookyung’s truth bomb and Seungcheol’s sudden appearance, you couldn’t help but wonder where to go from here. 

You had spent the past year walking this path alone, and though it was lonely at times, you really only had yourself to rely on, resolute in your decision to finally move on from your first and only love, Choi Seungcheol. So, what difference was this supposed to make? 

Did he think you would accept him with open arms? That now that he was a “free man,” the two of you could just run off into the sunset, hand in hand and live happily ever?

No. It wasn’t that easy. It was never that easy.

You fiddled with the food in front of you, your chopsticks breaking apart the scrambled eggs as your brain struggled to think of a response. 

Instead, it was Cheol who broke the silence. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his chin tucked into his neck as he stared at the balled up fists in his lap. All you could do was stare at the crown of his head, his long, black locks giving way to gravity. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Cheol…” you managed to say. 

“I don’t know what I thought would happen. I just… I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you weren’t,” you agreed. 

“Can I be honest though?”

“Of course.”

“It was nice seeing you.”

Suddenly, tears welled up in the corner of your eyes and it felt like someone was trying to squeeze them out of your body as you fought back that urge to let them fall. All you could give him instead was a reluctant smile. 

“I missed you,” he said once more. It was like he was intent on making you hurt, but not in the way he had in the past. This time, his words hit a sore spot, and you wanted to be angry that those words were said in remorse, rather than in longing. But then again, you were also to blame for the position you two were in. 

“Me too,” you told him, and you can see his shoulders relax a bit when the words hit his ears.

Relief.

He had been worried that you had hated him and would scream and yell at him to get lost, and sure, you had already told him the night prior that you hated him, but you were also inebriated. There was a good chance you didn’t even remember what you had told him, so to hear you say that sober, it was reassuring. 

Those were the last words you two said before finishing your breakfast, the food now cold once again. When you were done, you went to grab his dish, but Seungcheol was faster, swooping your plate and taking it to the sink. Without a word, he just turned on the water and put on the gloves. You could have stopped him, insisted that he was the guest and that you could do the dishes, but  you let him have this moment. Instead, you cleaned up the counter behind him, wiping the areas where the grease from the spam had splattered everywhere.

“Give me that,” he said, gesturing to the pan. You obliged, your hands touching when he grabbed the handle from you. It wasn’t some electrifying moment that opened your third eye, but it did make you realize how much you truly missed him. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary—after all, it wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t touched before, but yeah, you had to admit that this kind of domestic behavior was something you missed for sure. 

You stopped and leaned against the counter, your eyes trained on the movement of his back muscles as he washed the dishes vigorously. Maybe in another life, in an alternate timeline, you two could have been standing in your kitchen as lovers instead of… whatever the fuck you were now. In another life, he would finally be yours. 

“I, um,” you started, your voice faltering a bit, “I have to go get some groceries.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Do you… want to come with me?” It was a bold move, asking him to spend even more time with you considering the tension of the previous conversation, but hey, gotta shoot your shot, right?

“Yeah,” he said with a smile, though you couldn’t see it with his back turned towards you. “Just let me finish this one dish.”

“No rush,” you reassured him. “I’m just going to go get changed real quick.”

When you look at yourself in the mirror, you realize just how truly horrible you look. Wow, you really looked like this and Seungcheol didn’t say anything? Your hair was in complete disarray, unkempt and unbrushed, the strings of your hoodie completely misaligned. You pulled the thick fabric over and off your head, tossing it onto your bed. Another glance in the mirror and you realized that the t-shirt you were wearing was… his. 

Did he choose this one? Did he remember that it used to belong to him?

Even after all this time, you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of the comfiest shirt you owned, even if it belonged to the man who had broken your heart. Though, admittedly, you hadn’t worn the shirt in over a year for a certain reason. Instead, it just sat in the drawer, getting buried by new t-shirts you had bought and shoved in there. 

You had stolen his t-shirt, but he had stolen your heart. 

A knock on the door startled you, causing you to instinctively cover your chest despite you being fully clothed. 

“I’m done with the dishes,” Cheol spoke loudly from the other side. 

“Okay! Just give me a couple minutes to change,” you replied. 

“Alright, I’ll just chill on the couch.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Frantically, you grabbed a pair of jeans and threw on a thick hoodie, not wanting to make him wait any longer. You emerged from your room to find him leaning back on your couch, scrolling on his phone. 

When he heard the door click, he looked up at you. “Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.”

The grocery store wasn’t any more than a twenty minute walk away from your house, but it had been a while since your last trip and you needed more than you could physically carry in two hands. You’d have to drive.

Seungcheol followed you to your car, entering through the passenger side. He settled nicely into the suede of your little sedan that was much older than his luxurious BMW. But it was comfortable, and it smelled like you, he noted. 

He missed this. 

The drive was quiet, the only sound that could be heard was of the tires on the road. Both of you were on edge, sensitive to the other’s every movement. Fortunately, the drive was short and you arrived at the grocery store which was a bit of a ghost town in the late morning. Before you could say or do anything, Seungcheol was already making his way to the carts, pulling it out and leaning against it as you entered the store. There was something quite sobering about the way the market smelled—maybe it was the way the dead fish and meat mixed with the vegetables in the frigid air, or the perpetual pine-forest scent of whatever cleaner they used to wipe the tiles constantly. 

Seungcheol followed you like a puppy as you grabbed this and that off the shelves, muttering to yourself as you checked the items off your list on your phone. Neither of you really spoke to the other unless it was to ask him to grab that bag of chips from the bottom, no, not that one, yeah, no, yeah, that one. 

Even when you were checking out, he waited for you patiently, packing the items into plastic bags and putting them in the cart which he later pushed out to your car. There, he unloaded everything and returned the cart diligently. You supposed he was probably used to this because it was something he did often with Sookyung, but still, it made your heart flutter. But you were also overwhelmed by the burden of guilt in your chest. Part of you was happy to be here, with your best friend (if you could still call him that), but another part of you felt responsible for what happened to him and his wife. It was you. You were the reason why they got divorced, and even though that tiny part of you wanted this to happen, you still felt horrible. 

You hated the idea of being the source of anyone’s misery, and now you were the cause of not just one, but two people’s unhappiness. This wasn’t what you wanted. This wasn’t how you pictured your life to be all those years ago when you were just a naive university student madly in love with Choi Seungcheol. 

The thought weighed heavy in your mind as you drove back home in silence. Again. Once upon a time ago, you would have been laughing and listening to your favorite songs when he was by your side, but the solemn mood now was incredibly foreign to the point that you could barely recognize the man beside you. 

When “I’m just going to put these away real quick,” you told him. He nodded and sat down on your couch, but instead of scrolling on your phone, he just sat there, taking in your new apartment. 

It was so different than the one you had lived in previously—this one was a lot more grown up, the furniture much more elevated and minimalistic in style compared to the posters of your favorite boy band you used to have in your childhood bedroom, or the photobooth strips that hung on your college apartment, the one you had lived in until you moved here. This one felt… empty—sad—like you had never fully moved in and made it your home.

Seungcheol wondered if you felt that way, if you felt like this was your home, if you were comfortable living here, if you were…

Happy. 

“Coffee?” you offered. Despite already having had coffee earlier this morning, you weren’t quite sure what to do now that it was just the two of you alone in your apartment. There wasn’t much more you could do to stall between the inevitable conversation Seungcheol had come for, but you’d do your best to try. Kicking him out seemed too harsh, but fear crept into your heart when your mind began to wander, curious as to what he had to say to you. 

“Please, I’ll help you,” he said, standing up abruptly and nearly stumbling over your coffee table. You had to stifle your laughter, his actions reminding you of the goofball you loved and missed, the one you would spend hours messing around with instead of studying for your university entrance exams. “You didn’t see that,” he blurted out. His ears turned red, but he was also relieved to see you smile for the first time since he had been here. 

He wished he could make you smile even more. 

“It’s okay, it’ll take me only a couple seconds.”

“Are you sure?”

You gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m sure, Cheol. But thank you.” That was the only thing you were sure of, that you could make coffee without his help. But everything else that followed? Not so much.

When you were finished, you brought the mugs to the table and sat down in the chair adjacent to him. 

“Thank you,” he said. The once foreign silence had now become something familiar, but the awkward tension remained ever the same. Was this who you were to each other now? No longer friends, but not quite distant strangers either?

“Do you ever wish you could start over?”

You brought the mug to your lips, only to pause upon hearing his question. 

“That… maybe we could start over?” He had kept walking, but when he realized you weren’t by his side, he paused, too. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you lied.

Of course, you knew exactly what he meant. The real answer was: yes, you had thought about this countless times, and it was the reason for your sleeplessness over many nights, but you weren’t about to just confess that to him now.

Upon hearing your response, Seungcheol’s face fell. What was he doing here anyway? Well, no matter what happened, he had a lot to get off his chest, and if he didn’t do it now, he’d never get it over with. “You know. Us.”

“Yeah,” you finally relented. “I do.”

“Where did we go wrong?” he asked, his question ending with a chuckle. 

“I fell in love with you,” you replied, your eyes fixed on the cup of coffee in your hands. 

“How long?”

“Since as long as I could remember.” There was a long pause, and you wished the Earth could swallow you whole. “I shouldn’t have,” you confessed. “I should have stopped loving you the moment you started dating Sookyung.”

“Why?”

“Because then maybe we wouldn’t be here right now. You would still be with Sookyung and I’d—”

“I don’t love her.”

The words were colder than the winter air that swept against your cheeks. Seungcheol looked at you, as if he was looking for an answer. 

“I mean, I did love her, but not like I loved you.”

Loved. Past tense.

“Then why?”

“You were with Yanan.” 

“But we broke up.” Somehow, the coffee no longer seemed appetizing, the smell only nauseating you. You stood up and walked back to the kitchen where you dumped it into the sink. 

“I thought… maybe we weren’t meant to be.”

“But you and Sookyung were?” You looked up, but Seungcheol was no longer on the couch—instead, he had followed you into the kitchen, leaning against the threshold as he curiously watched you wash the cup.

He shrugged. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Instead, he gave you an answer: “I thought we were.”

Silence, and then a beat. 

“You were my best friend, you know?”

Yeah, you knew perfectly well.

“And best friends don’t fall in love.”

No, they don’t.

“And I think I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” 

“The consequences.”

“Of?”

“Telling you.” Seungcheol wished you would look at him, but he understood that you were nervous—he was, too. 

You knew exactly what he meant, and now you understood maybe why you were in the position you were in.

“We’re cowards,” you laughed, pausing your mindless dishwashing.

“Yeah, we are, aren’t we?” he let out a hearty chuckle. Maybe, instead of dating Sookyung to cope with your relationship with Yanan, he should have fought harder for you. But he was young and stupid. You both were. 

Perhaps neither of you would be in this impossible situation had you just been honest with one another in the first place, regardless of the consequences.

“Hey,” he said. He was now standing right next to you, grabbing the mug from your hands and placing it in the sink carefully. Goosebumps formed on your arm when you felt his skin on yours, his rough hands taking hold of your own. “Let’s start over, okay?” Squeezing your hand with intent, he leaned forward to look you in the eyes, his face serious and without a shred of doubt. “Let’s… let’s start over and do this the right way.”

You froze. This was the moment you had been waiting for who knows how long, but why did that voice inside you keep telling you no? They say the eyes are the window to the soul, yet when Seungcheol looked into yours, he had a hard time reading what could possibly be running through your head right now. 

“Come on,” he said, closing the gap between you. You didn’t know it was possible to be even closer than you already were, but he managed to do it. “What do you say?”

You had spent countless days and nights dreaming of the day you would be this close to Seungcheol, your hands in his, his face so close you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips. You were so close, in fact, that one miniscule movement and you would finally know what it feels like to feel his lips, to taste them.

You stepped back, pulling your hands out of his grip, the only thing your head could do was shake back and forth. “No…” you whispered. “I-I can’t.”

His eyebrows furrow at your words as if he doesn’t quite process what he’s hearing. “What?”

“We can’t, Cheol.”

“What do you mean we can’t?” Concern grew on his face as he tried to close the space between you, but you only stepped back in reflex. 

“We just can’t.”

“You’re not making sense.” You could sense the annoyance interlaced in his voice, but you understood why. “Explain it to me so I can understand why.”

“It’s too late. For you. For me. The damage has been done. We can’t go back in time, we can’t undo the years of longing and pining, and we can’t just… start over.”

“Why not?”

“You still don’t understand?”

“No. I don’t.”

“We hurt each other. And not just each other, but others, too. Look at Sookyung—”

And that’s when Seungcheol understood exactly what you were saying. Or, rather, what you were trying to convince him of, if not yourself. 

“Stop—”

“You married her and you were supposed to be together forever, but then you guys got divorced because of me—” you continued to ramble on, your eyes staring out at the sunlight sparkling on the surface of the water, completely unaware that Seungcheol was approaching you again. 

“Stop!” Seungcheol’s loud voice echoed in your quiet apartment. “When are you going to stop making up excuses and blaming others for your own fears?”

The blood in your veins began to boil at his accusations. “I’m not blaming anyone.”

“You are. You said we were cowards. But you? You still are.”

“I am not,” you contested, raising your voice to match his. 

“Then why? Why won’t you stop being afraid and take a chance?” He paused. Realizing he had been shouting, he lowered his voice and continued, “With me?”

You could no longer face him, turning around to hide the tears that threaten to fall. The only sound in your apartment now was the ticking of your clock and your and Seungcheol’s heavy breathing. 

You jumped when you felt his hands wrap around your arms and turn you around to face him. “Look at me.”

“Cheol, please—”

“I said, look at me.” When your gaze met his, his fingers loosened their grip and his face softened. “I’m going to say something, but I need you to let me finish, okay?”

You nodded hesitantly.

“We can start over—”

“Seungcheol—”

“Listen, please. We’ve spent our whole lives lying to each other—to ourselves—but now? Now, we can finally be honest. We can be honest about how we feel and we can start over.”

Your heart palpitated in your chest, and despite the embarrassment that grew within you, you never once took your eyes off of him. 

“I’ll start,” he continued. “I can’t lie to you, or myself, anymore. I love you. I am in love with you.” You could have swore your heart shattered upon hearing those words come from his lips. “You are the woman I’ve always wanted to be with, ever since we were young. I loved you then, and I love you now. And I’ll love you until the end of our days. This past year, you’ve been the only one I could think about—from the moment I wake up to the moment I close my eyes—no, even after I fall asleep, you’re the only person on my mind. Do you know how often I wanted to call you? To ask you how you were? If you were eating well? If maybe you had found someone who was deserving of your love? Do you know how worried I was on the drive over, asking myself if this was the right thing to do?” He took a deep breath before continuing, “But now that you’re here in front of me, I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, which is how much I love you, and how I’d regret it every day of my life if I didn’t tell you how I feel. 

“I know you’re scared, because honestly, I’m just as scared as you are. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but if I’m going to find out, I want to do it with you. Together. So, please, don’t be afraid and trust me.”

By now, tears were streaming down your cheeks at full force, the words you wanted to stay lodged in your throat. Your eyes fell to the ground. 

“The only thing that will get me to leave,” Seungcheol said, his voice the quietest it had been all day, “is if you tell me you don’t love me.”

You bit your lip which only made the dread in his heart worse. Perhaps he really had made a mistake. 

“Seungcheol, I don’t know what to say.”

“Just tell me. I can handle it.” He was lying, though, of course. Because if you really told him that you didn’t love him, he felt as if his whole world might crumble. 

Your brain went into overdrive trying to process his confession, let alone find the right words to formulate a response. Seungcheol could hear his heartbeat in his own ears, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. 

“You’re right,” you whisper. “I’m scared. I’m scared because I don’t want to get hurt. Again. Or worse, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me,” he assured you.

“You know that’s not true.” Your eyes shot up from the ground and you were met with his own, tears pooling in the corners. “I’ve hurt you, Cheol. You have every reason to hate me. I ended your marriage—”

“What happened to Sookyung and I was entirely our own fault, and no one else’s. I don’t want you to ever blame yourself for that, okay?”

You shook your head. “What if I hurt you again?”

“Would you? Intentionally?”

“No, but—”

“Then you have nothing to worry about. We’ve come way too far now to go back, but that doesn’t mean we can’t start over. Fresh. Clean page. Just you and me, the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Cheol—”

“Do you trust me?”

“Seungcheol, I—”

“Do you trust me?” His hands wrapped around your cheeks as he stared into your eyes with a longing look. 

“I love you.” The words fall from your mouth with much more ease than anticipated, and it’s not long before your foreheads are pressed together. 

“Say it again.”

“I love you,” you breathed out the words again and looked him straight in the eyes before continuing, “Cheol.” 

Without another second to wait, he lifted your chin and pressed his lips against yours, so soft and gentle as to not break you any further than he already had. He could feel your tears on his cheeks, but when he pulled away to check on you, you only grasped onto his face and pulled him back. 

Every worry, every fear that used to plague your thoughts melted away with his touch. For the first time in a really long time, everything felt right, clicking into place as simple as that. 

If you could kiss him for the rest of your life, you absolutely would have, but the whole day had taken its toll on you and the crying didn’t seem to help either. Instead, Seungcheol simply wiped your tears and the two of you fell asleep on the couch, arms wrapped tightly around each other as if to say, I will never let you go. Not again. Not this time. Never.

When you woke up, your body was sore from having been in that position for a few hours. You adjusted your head to take a good look at your best friend who was still asleep, breathing softly as the golden glow of the setting sun seeped through your windows, illuminating the edges of his face. 

Finally, he could sleep. But he was awoken by the faint grumbling of your stomach. He opened one eye and looked curiously at you, causing you to shove your face into his chest from embarrassment. There was a resounding vibration when he laughed. “Someone’s hungry,” he chuckled, his voice deep and raspy but sounding like music to your ears.

“Stop,” you whined. There was something strange about being so close, so intimate, with him. It brought you back to your high school days, that feeling of butterflies in your stomach when you’d see him walk the halls. If only you had known your true feelings then…

But what mattered was the fact that you were here, with him, right now. What mattered was that now you had been able to be honest with him, with yourself, and when you were in his arms like this, everything finally felt right in the world. 

Sure, it would be strange getting used to calling him not only your best friend, but your boyfriend—yet, it was a welcome change, one you knew you would adjust to in no time. 

“Should we eat?” Seungcheol asked.

“Mm, I’m not that hungry,” you lied, but your stomach betrayed you, grumbling again. 

“I thought we agreed not to lie to each other anymore,” he teased.

“Fine, we should eat. But I just want ten more minutes.”

“To do what?”

“To stay like this,” you told him, tightening your grip around his waist as you close your eyes and bury your face in his body. With a gentle kiss on the top of your head, Seungcheol happily obliged and the two of you remained on that couch for longer than ten minutes. 

You were finally his tonight. And you would be tomorrow. And the day after. 

Forever and always. 

[alj4890]

Girl no i am so sorry pls take ur time and post whenever u feel like i was just being curious as to when we'll see the characters in action...or the left of em 😈

Don't be sorry! I love knowing someone is enjoying my storyline enough to be anxiously awaiting the next part 💗💗💗.

Here's a snippet of the next chapter just for you. I'm going to do my hardest to get this done as soon as I can 🤞

In case those tagged in the series want a sneak peek too, here you go

@iaminlovewithtrr @gkittylove99 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg @amandablink @neotericthemis @mm2305 @sfb123 @iufilms @tessa-liam @busywoman @nestledonthaveone @angelasscribbles

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

The Dark Kingdom Castle, a month later...

"You seem quiter than usual."

Drake jerked his head up. "I do?"

Liam rolled his eyes on his way over to join him. He set a cut crystal glass in front of him followed by a bottle of whiskey.

"The Macallan 1926?" Drake whistled. "I must be pretty quiet to warrant this type of treatment."

Liam chuckled as he uncorked the rare alcohol. "I thought we could both do with a treat." His humor quickly dissipated. "What am I going to do?"

Drake quirked an eyebrow as he took a long sip.

"Father's dying. I have no clue what happened to either Lucretia or Regina. And Riley...should I not encourage her to go back to New York until I'm certain of her safety?" Liam cradled his glass, rolling it between his palms. "I'm at a loss of where to begin in any of this."

Drake tipped back the rest of his drink before reaching for the bottle again. "Look, I'm no medical expert, but I believe there is little you can do about your father. As for Regina," he cleared his throat, "You are trying to solve it. Why you are doing the same for a Nevarkis is the real mystery."

"You know why." Liam grumbled. "Olivia is my--"

Drake held his hand up. "Trust me. I know what she is." He shook his head over his friend's love for the enemy. "Anyway, as for Riley, if you think you can rest easier with her tucked away in New York, then do it."

Liam grimaced. He didn't want to be apart from her anymore than he had to. He also thought that she would refuse to leave. Given how determined she was to be with him and help, he doubted he'd be able to convince her to even pack a bag.

Drake noticed Liam struggling silently. With a sigh, he decided to reveal what was behind his new silence so that the Dark Prince could think on something new for a change.

"I've uh, I've been thinking about going to see Savannah."

Liam's head shot up. "You are?"

Both men rubbed at the ache building within their chests.

"Yeah." Drake swallowed the last of his seond glass. "My dad would probably rip me a new one if he knew I wasn't checking on my sister when she's pregnant."

Liam softly smiled. "Your father was big on remaining loyal to loved ones."

"No matter what they do." Drake mumbled. "Anyway, while you remain out of the sunlight, I think I'll go to Ramsford."

"Right now?"

"I want to get it over with." Drake explained. "Honestly, I don't know if I can take much more of the pain of pretending she did die." He rubbed a hand down his face. "After these attacks, I guess I'm worried something will happen to her and I'll end up wishing I had at least tried to see her again."

Liam reached over and gripped Drake's. shoulder.

"You're doing the right thing."

"We'll see if that's true or not." He pushed himself to his feet. "I'll see you later, Liam."

Drake hurried out of the drawing room, hoping his friend's words were true.

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

[tsunderedoctor]

Hello. I saw your latest post for emergency requests and I wanted to say what a kind and thoughtful gesture it is.

It's also really coincidental timing for myself and I feel selfish saying that, as I do for asking for something, but I'm trying to get better at asking for help. Doing it anonymously on Tumblr is a very small step but you've made that possible, so thank you. Truly.

Could I request some comfort from Law? I don't know what to ask for honestly. My mood/state of mind just took a nose dive last night. It happens from time to time so I'm no stranger to it, but it doesn't make it any less painful. My natural response is to shut down/shut out the world; I don't want to be a burden or bring others down, but I really just want a hug. I also want to cry but I'm too emotionally constipated. Ugh, sorry for dumping this on you (and also for using words like "dumping" and "constipated"). Female or gender neutral reader please if that's relevant info.

Please don't feel obligated to do this, especially since I'm not sure it warrants a request. I hope I'm not taking advantage if you had more serious matters in mind. I hope I didn't misjudge this. Please ignore if I'm out of line. Thank you for listening regardless and offering your time in such a wonderful way.

You are perfectly fine, my love! I am glad to help and know, even if it isn't a request, I will still do my best to fulfill it! Law is my comfort character too! And I'm quite similar in not wanting to bother people, but please know, you will never bother me and I appreciate you!

I hope our tsundere boy can help you!!💕💕💕

Babe Below~!

Trafalgar D. Water Law

He watched you from the corner of his eye leave the gathering room, before you had mostly kept to yourself, only giving small smiles and spoke when needed to. Those small signs telling him something was not right. 

Quietly making his own way to your room, he leaned against the frame as he watched you lay on your bed. Seeing the man, you gave him a confused smile, trying your best to keep it together, he only frowned more, telling him his suspicions were correct, something was bothering you. 

Knowing he wasn’t one to talk about his own issues, he decided the best plan wasn’t to ask you what was bothering you, rather, just make it known he was here for you. Stepping inside your room, he placed himself beside your now sitting position on your bed. 

“I don’t know what it is, and you don’t have to tell me,” He hesitated, a small shade of pink graced his features before continuing, “but, just know I am here for you, I guess.”

He coughed awkwardly into the air, trying his best to remain neutral as possible, only blushing more and tensing up when he felt you hug him from the side. Letting out an exaggerated sigh, he wrapped his arm around you back and patted in a comforting manner.

“it will be alright.”

Nodding, you continued to hug the man, feeling relief knowing your beloved captain was with you. 

“Thanks, captain.”

Tag List: @chloe-nanami @musical-apple @luxiditea @macdonaldsmanager @onepieceya @undercoverweeeb @fantasyfairysworld @athenaportgas @iam-gaaras-loveintrest and whoever else wants to join in!

[bucky-barmes]

☾✧✧✧ I'm just looking for a good night ✧✧✧☽

female enhanced!reader x tfatws!Bucky

In which you get dragged into a mess in Madripoor while just trying to enjoy yourself. But is the infamous Winter Soldier as bad as you always thought?

[ a/n: idk what this exactly is but i don't hate it, and who doesn't love asshole bucky? maybe i just have a problem, also loosely based on that madripoor episode. also also tried something new for the writing style so i hope you don't mind lemme know if it's shit ]

Minka is polish for strong-willed one, and is a name but here it’s used as a nickname as it’s reader insert

[ word count: ~3,580 words (this started as a lil drabble of reader meeting bucky at a bar, but i guess my brain had other ideas)

includes: asshole bucky, swearing - like a lot (i'm aussie okay?), drinking (alcoholism?), it's pretty fkn angsty, asshole bucky (i'm warning you ok), no -18 pls as it's not entirely g rated & has some implications

[ all works are my own, do not steal, repost or translate ]

tagging some friends (message if you wanna be on a perm taglist/if you don't wanna be tagged in future (i won't take it to heart i promise)) @sweetdreamsbuck @beefybuckrrito @mymindslabyrinth @igotnoname4thisblog @theluxuriousfangirl @posinhay @barnesand1

The music was blaring, sending vibrations through her body as she swayed to the fast beat. Drink sloshing around as she waved her arms around her above her head. This was it. This was living. Drunk, surrounded by strangers. No one knew her and she knew no one. She was free. And it was incredible.

Going to clubs alone was dangerous, she couldn't remember the number of times her mother had warned her not to. She must have been rolling in her grave at her daughter not only going to a club alone, but to a club in Madripoor no less. The thrill that anything could happen only exciting her more. That, and knowing that the Powerbroker wouldn't let anything happen to her, wouldn't let anyone lay a finger on her. That was the perk of being enhanced and not looking like it, it made you useful.

She had lost track of the hours, and the drinks, thinking only of how good the music made her feel. Of how nothing had felt this good in so long.

She waded through the sea of people, already locking eyes with the bartender as she made a beeline for the bar. She was stopped in her tracks, however, by a wall of bodies.

An almost animalistic growl ripped through her as she slapped her hand down on the shoulder of the man in the middle, a big fur collar adorning his coat. A hard hand gripped her wrist in response and her eyes shifted slowly from the back of man one to the owner of the hand.

Her eyes widened at who they landed on, then narrowed to barely visible slits. Yanking her hand back she didn't break her glare.

"I'm sorry, Dove, did we cut in?" The voice of the middle man broke her chain of thought, and when she looked back to him, he had turned to face her. "How about we buy you a drink to apologise."

"I don't want your handouts, Baron." Venom dripped from her words as she spat back her response. She wedged herself between the Baron and the third man, not someone she recognised, to snatch the drink the bartender placed out for her. "Besides, I don't pay here anyway, don't want you wasting your money."

She was about to work her way back through the crowd of people and to the middle of the dance floor again when she had a thought.

"Hold the fucking phone." Spinning on the spot, her eyes narrowed again, this time at the Baron, but that didn't stop her from seeing the man to his left step forward defensively.

"How are you even here? Last I heard you were stuck in a prison in Germany." Her drink was down and she slammed the glass down on the bar, getting threateningly close to him as she did. "Thought you were never getting out after what you did to them." Her sentence trailed off as her eyes flicked to the man next to him, the one with the metal arm.

The Baron offered her his signature smug smile. "Some people had other plans."

"Well, whatever you're planning," She closed the gap between them further. The shifting of bodies next to them was halted with a raise of the Baron's hand. "Stay the fuck away from me." Hatred seeped from her whole body.

Snatching the new drink that was placed on the bar, her gaze was turned to the apparent bodyguard.

"And I'd think twice before you lay a hand on me again." There was no response, but a subtle cocky smirk instead that only heated her further. She was gone before any of them could speak another word to her.

She was only able to start enjoying herself once more when the sight of the three men had disappeared, then, she was able to let her guard down and the beat of the music slowly took her over again. Until she got a call.

Plugging her other ear so she could hear, she took mental note of the location she was told to move to. The call ended abruptly, they always did with the Powerbroker, but this one was serious. She had begun picking up on the subtle differences between the calls.

Her gun was pulled from her thigh holster as she advanced towards the room Selby used for meetings.

She listened from a distance, the ability being one of many. A phone rang. An awkward silence as the conversation started. Names were thrown around, first Smiling Tiger. 'Yeah, that guy was definitely not Smiling Tiger', she thought to herself as she listened, remembering her run in with him one time. The phone call ended with a goodbye to "Sam"?

There were gunshot before she had time to process anything further.

Kicking the door down, she stepped through slowly, gun raised. It had fallen silent, the three men stood in the middle of the room.

"Holy fuck, what did you do?" Her voice was a mix of shock and anger. The men snapped their heads up.

"Things didn't exactly go according to plan, Dove." The Baron regretfully shrugged as he looked around at the collection of bodies on the floor, inclusive of Selby's.

"Well, why the fuck am I-" A fifth person joined the room before she could finish.

"Because the Powerbroker requested it." Sharon Carter approached her, stone-faced. “And nobody disobeys the Powerbroker.”

“I don’t know, I might’ve had I know it was for these idiots.” She was dead serious as she said it, glaring at the men responsible for the bodies strewn about.

Sharon shot the other woman a look, a look that said ‘you better cut it out right now’.

"Don't, Minka." Sharon's use of the others' nickname amplified the seriousness of it all.

The men in the room didn’t know it, but she, Minka, was the only one who knew who the Powerbroker really was. And you could say she was somewhat of a bodyguard for them.

“The Powerbroker requested it. End of, so get over it.” Sharon snapped at her.

“I can’t believe you’re helping these people.” Her grip on her gun tightened as she interrogated Sharon. “After everything that happened last time.” Her sentence ended with a scoff, clicking on the safety of her gun. She didn't place it back in her holster just yet though.

“Enough.” Sharon’s remark was a bark. An order. “Whether you like it or not, you’re involved now, you’ve seen the bodies. You’re part of it now.”

Minka just glared at her, mumbling “lucky me” under her breath as her daggers turned to the men again. Her anger only bubbled more when she saw the one with the metal arm, the Winter Soldier, staring right back, something she couldn’t quite pick up on behind his cold eyes.

Many hours and gun fights later, everyone made it Sharon's place alive, much to the acrimony of some of them. Of Minka.

"You have a beautiful place, Miss Carter." Baron was walking around, admiring the art as he made the genuine compliment, but he was being eyed. Sharon's personal guard wasn't about to let him touch, ruin, anything.

"Don't touch anything, and get changed, everyone knows what we're wearing now." The last part was directed at the whole group. "And you look like shit, too." Her nose scrunched as she looked them over. Even her associate was included in the statement.

Sharon watched as her figure retreated to the room she had set up, she was there often enough to warrant her own one, and then directed the men to where they could pick out some clothes and change.

There was a soft thump as her body landed on the bed, and she released a long sigh into the covers.

"Yeah, Sharon, I'm not in the mood." Her voice was mumbled from the bed, but was loud enough to hear the frustration.

"Minka, huh?" That was not the voice of Sharon Carter. Her head snapped up to face the door to her room that she swore she locked.

"You don't get to call me that." If looks could kill, the man in the doorframe would have dropped to the floor in record time.

"Is that not your name, Doll?" Arms folded over his chest, a mix of metal and flesh.

"Is your name The Winter Soldier?" The words were laced with malice as she slid off the bed, moving towards him to push him out of her room, her safe space. "Now if you don't mind getting the fuck away from me."

A heavy boot stopped the door from clicking into place, his metal hand forcing it back open, eyes dark. "No, I don't think I will." He stepped into the room, pushing the door closed behind him. This time it was her that stopped the door from closing, hand gripped tightly on the handle, pulling back.

"You've got some fucking nerve coming here like that." Minka yanked the handle as the soldier pushed the door harder, breaking it clean off. "Coming back into Sharon's life like you aren't the one that fucked it up in the first place." The handle dropped with a loud thud.

For a moment, something flashed through his eyes. Regret? Sadness? Whatever it was lasted a mere second before he regained control.

"So, you're like me?" His gaze dropped to the handle on the ground, taking the opportunity to gaze down her body as he did.

It was all she could do from punching him right then and there. "Absolutely not!" If the venom in her voice wasn't evident before, it definitely was now. "I don't kill innocents."

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The soldier staring down darkly at the smaller woman.

"It's Bucky."

Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

"My name, it's Bucky. And you can call me that."

She couldn't hold back the scoff that fell from her lips. "I won't be calling you anything. After all this shit is cleaned up, you'll never see me again."

Bucky's head tilted ever so slightly, his voice soft but dark. "I wouldn't be so sure of that." But before she was able to punch question him, Sharon's voice bellowed through the building.

"Downstairs, now."

The pair ripped their eyes from each other, Minka's falling to the handle on the floor. "I'm telling her you broke that. Now fuck off so I can change." And she shoved him out of the room, closing the door over between them, making sure to not close it the whole say so she could actually get out when she was ready.

By the time she had finished getting ready and made her way down to everyone else, people had begun meandering in, admiring the art.

"Took you long enough." Sharon walked up behind her, whispering harshly in her ear.

"Yeah, well you can thank your old friend for that. He's an asshole, by the way." "And he's not a friend." "Well he's the reason I need a drink." She turned to face Sharon, giving her a look of 'I hate you for dragging me into this' before heading to the bar, fully intending on double parking it the whole night.

It didn't take long for her to finally loosen up again, 5 drinks to be exact, and be back in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by sweaty bodies. It may have been an art auction, but nothing was ever not a party in Madripoor, especially if it was organised by the Powerbroker themself.

Minka was so caught up in the moment that she had forgotten entirely about the events of the day, the people of the day.

She had, yet again, lost track of the number of drinks she'd had. But every drink handed her way was downed immediately, not taking any time to register where, or more like who, they were coming from. That was always her greatest weakness, denying alcohol.

She was happily about to take yet another unknown drink being handed to her, when it was snatched from her reach and discarded on a nearby table.

"Hey, what the fuck, that was mine!" She growled, turning with her fist ready to launch into whoever had the nerve to steal her drink.

"Stop taking drinks from strangers, are you an idiot?" Suddenly the memories of the men she had to deal with throughout the day came flooding back. "You're gonna get spiked- in fact, you were about to with that one."

"What? Have you been keeping an eye on me? That's not very Winter Soldier of you." Her tone was mocking as she glared up at Bucky, struggling to stand thanks to the combination of copious amounts of alcohol and continuous movement of people around her.

Bucky placed his large hands on her biceps to keep her steady, eyes narrowing at her words. "You really don't know how to be nice to people, do you?"

"You really don't know how to stay the fuck away from people that don't like you, do you?" She retorted immediately, pulling herself from his grip. "I don't need a goddamn babysitter, especially not you. You don't exactly have the best track record with protecting people." Her back was turned to him and stalking off before she even finished her sentence, but she was yanked back in by her forearm.

"Yeah, I don't think so. You're being watched like a hawk by at least 3 men. Who knows how many of them are trying to spike you and get you separated from the crowd." Bucky's eyes were anywhere but hers, scanning the vast room for anything suspicious, clearly on high alert.

"I don't understand why you fucking care?" Bucky's eyes snapped down to hers, alarmed by her intensity.

"Keep your voice down or you're gonna draw attention to us." He hissed at her, lowering his head and pulling her arm to move her closer to him.

"Good, maybe security will see you're harassing me and escort you out." She snarled, anger rising with every word he spoke. "I'm just looking for a good fucking night and you've managed to ruin it twice now."

"Well take it up with Sharon then, she's the one that told me to keep an eye on you. So clearly she thinks you do need a babysitter." He dropped her arm, that would be enough to keep her in her spot for now.

"You're lying." Her words were barely above a whisper, eyes narrowed at him. "She knows I can hold my own. She's literally hired me for personal protection before."

"Clearly not this time." Bucky's eyes were back to scanning the room. "Not with the types of people here tonight." Minka couldn't help but scoff.

"Oh, because you know Madripoor, right? You've spent how many years here? Oh, that's right, none." She suddenly saw her opportunity to escape, Bucky's eyes not trained on her and her arms free.

"Tell her, as much as I appreciate it, she can shove it." And with that she had weaved her way though the crowd of bodies.

But her abandonment didn't last nearly as long as she had hoped.

All of a sudden she was being pushed against the far wall of the room where she was escaping to, breath knocked out of her.

"What the fu-" Lips landing on hers cut off her protests. Her eyes widened when she realised who said lips belonged to.

"Get off of me!" She spat when she was finally able to push Bucky off. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"People are following you. If they know you're with me they're less likely to try something."

"I'm not with you. In fact, I want to be as far away from you as physically possible right now." Bucky's arms, which were trapping her in by pressing against the wall either side of her face, fell to his side. His face turned emotionless for a moment before returning to his usual arrogant demeanour.

"You can't tell me you didn't feel the spark." He winked, a cocky grin plastered on his face when he saw the heat creep to her cheeks.

"Please, you wish there was a spark." Her eyes rolled as she paused. "I've had knife fights with more spark than that."

"Maybe we should have a knife fight sometime then." Bucky's response was quick, and smooth.

"Have you forgotten that you're never going to see me again after all this shit? Although," Minka tapped her chin in mock thought. "If you're offering to let me stab you, I'll gladly take you up on that." Unlike Bucky's, her face held no semblance of humour.

"I'm sure you'll change your mind by the end of it." Bucky eyed her suggestively.

"God, please don't tell me you're into me. Maybe I do want those supposed guys to take me, seems better than the alternative." She groaned at the thought of having to deal with him fawning after her.

Bucky's face indicated that that was definitely not he case. His eyes, however, suggested her words had hurt him a little. "God, never. But if you really want, I can hand deliver you to them myself." He pointed in the direction of said men.

Her nose crinkled. "Okay, maybe not them."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Sharon, we have a serious problem!" Minka stormed into the kitchen after the last few people had left and the party was over, Bucky not far behind her. "So I need a babysitter now? I thought I was the personal protection around here." Her fist collided heavily with the table.

"You are," Sharon looked at her nonchalantly as she poured herself a glass of whiskey. "Until alcohol is involved. You're as useless as that new Captain America when there's booze around." A sip. "Case in point." Sharon hummed, watching your eyes follow her glass from bench, to mouth, to bench again.

"Oh please." She snorted. "And you thought pairing me with this idiot was a good idea?" He hand gestured back to Bucky at idiot, not caring if it offended him. "He just makes me want to drink more."

Sharon was about to give her a look, but Minka just shook her head, throwing her hands up. "No, I'm not dealing with this tonight. I'm going to bed." "Take him with you." Sharon nodded towards Bucky.

"Oh fuck no, why the fuck would I-" "Because everyone knows you're involved, and your head is on a spike now, too. They want you dead, Minka." She couldn't argue with Sharon when she used her nickname for her. And the pain in her voice was evident.

"Fine, but you're sleeping on the floor." Bucky just shrugged, "nothing new."

"You sleep there." A finger pointed to the sofa on the far side of the room. Conveniently away from the bed. "I'll get you a blanket."

Bucky's brow quirked. "I thought I was on the floor?" He feigned confusion, head tilting to the side before his cocky smirk returned.

"Keep going and you will be." The blanket was thrown at his face, along with a pillow.

"A pillow too? Wow, it's like a 5 star hotel." She just glared.

"If you snore, you're out. If you sleep talk, you're out. You make any sort of noise and you're out. Capisce?"

"Guess it's a good thing I don't sleep then, huh?" Bucky threw the blanket and pillow onto the sofa.

"Now see, that just makes it weird. Like that scene from Twilight." "Well, yeah, when you put it like that it is." His face screwed up at the thought, recalling the scene.

"How do you- Actually no, I'm tired and I don't care." She had been about to ask how he understood the reference, but decided that was going to open a whole can of worms that she didn't care about.

"I may be over 100, but I have seen Twilight. Wanda made me watch it with her." He didn't need to be a mind reader to know what she was about to ask. And he didn't blame her, it probably would be surprising that a 106 year old had seen Twilight.

"Don't worry, Doll, I won't stare. Much." And now it was her turn to scrunch her face up.

"If you fucking touch me, I'll rip that metal arm from your body and shove it so far up your ass." Her sentence trailed off, however, when Bucky stepped closer to her, his gaze intense as he looked down at her.

"And how do you think I would touch you?" Another step closer, making her step back and gulp.

With her mouth agape, Minka was lost for words, probably for the first time in her life. Sharon unknowingly came to her rescue, though, when she knocked on the door while entering.

"Set your alarm for 6," Her eyes narrowed at them both and the distance, or lack there of, between them. "We've gotta be out of here asap tomorrow. Make sure you get enough sleep." "Will do, Sharon." Minka's gaze flicked to her, nodding once before she left the room, confusion plastered on her features.

"Right, well that's bed time then." Her tongue ran over her lips nervously, and she was painfully aware of Bucky's eyes watching. "I'm going to get changed." She turned and basically ran to the bathroom attached to her room.

"I'll be out here waitin'." "You're disgusting, don't think anything." "Wouldn't dream of it, doll."

[honeypiehotchner]

Looking Too Closely (Bucky x Fem!Stark!Reader) -- part three

I did not expect to get so invested in this damn fic but here I am :))

Summary: The one in which Tony invites you to the “family dinner” but you sleep through it. Also, the “Father Test,” as Tony calls it.

Warnings: angst (what’s new?), talk of food/eating (so sorry, I should’ve tagged this a lot sooner!), medical stuffs (needles, blood being drawn)

A few hours pass by slowly as you doze, floating in between sleep and consciousness, both places completely unsoothing to you.

You wake abruptly when FRIDAY’s voice echoes throughout the room. “Do Not Disturb overridden by Tony Stark.”

With a groan, you sit up, listening to Tony knock — though surprised that he even does.

“Come in,” you sigh.

The door swings open and Tony opens his mouth to speak, but stops when he sees you on the floor. “What…” He glances between you and the bed, giving you an incredulous look. “What’s wrong with the perfectly new bed I gave you?”

“The least of your concerns should be that I’m taking a nap on the floor,” you deadpan. “What do you want?”

“Dinner will be ready in a few,” he says, still looking at you all concerned. “We have a family dinner once a week to...build rapport.”

You raise an eyebrow.

He continues. “You live here now, so...you’re invited. Wanda and Pepper will be there. Bucky, too.” Tony pauses. “Bucky didn’t bother you earlier, did he?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, good.”

“You bothered me, Tony.”

“Right,” Tony nods. “Sorry about that. I shouldn’t have brought that stuff up. I should’ve just been happy that you’re okay.” He pauses again, like he’s having trouble putting all the words together. “I am, by the way. Glad you’re okay. I’m sorry you went through that.”

“Thanks,” you say slowly. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

Tony offers a half-smile, half-grimace, because what you don’t know is that he has FRIDAY currently working on a full, extensive background check on your mom. And you, but your mom is top priority. Ever since the conversation in MedBay earlier, he’s been worried. For your safety — both past, present, and future. But he’s also worried about who you really are — and the worst worry of all is that you might not even know.

“Anyway, dinner in a few,” he says. “Nothing fancy. Come as you are, all that bullshit.”

You snicker at his reference.

He tries not to think of it as too much of a win. “Oh and,” he points to the bed, “it really is new. No one’s slept in it before you. And you can adjust the settings on it — softness, heating, cooling, all that. Just,” he pauses again. “FRIDAY, will you show Y/N the control panel?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

Your eyes widen when a hologram appears next to the bed, projected onto the wall. There, all the settings — and many more — that Tony mentioned are shown.

“When you get it set where you like, FRIDAY can save it for you,” he explains. “Just for whenever you feel like sleeping in a bed again. I guess.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, looking over at him. “Really, thank you, Tony.”

“No problem, munchkin.” He smiles fully this time as he leaves, closing your door. And to your surprise, he activates Do Not Disturb again.

Food is the last thing on your mind, so instead you head over to the hologram on the wall.

You spend the next hour and a half fixing the settings. Once you get it just right, though, you lie down and you sleep.

Soundly. For five hours.

+++

When you wake again, you’re confused and disoriented to find yourself sleeping in a bed. But you love that your back, shoulders, and hips aren’t screaming in pain for once.

One glance out the window tells you that you’ve definitely missed the dinner Tony invited you to, but you don’t care all that much. You’ve met everyone individually. You didn’t really need or want to go to a big dinner. It seemed pointless.

But, unfortunately, you are hungry, so you drag yourself out of bed to go to the kitchen in search of something resembling food.

One glance at the clock in the hall tells you it’s just past midnight, so you relax even more, knowing you won’t encounter anyone.

Or at least, you hoped.

There, leaned against the kitchen counter, straight up guzzling a glass of water, is Bucky.

At least it’s him, you think.

Bucky smiles gently when he sees you coming. “Hey.”

You offer a slight nod and a quiet “Hey” in return, going straight to the fridge.

“Oh, the plate in there is yours,” he says. “Top shelf.”

You look up and spot it, your eyes widening as you grab it. Did they eat monstrous portions here or something? It must weigh five pounds or something crazy.

As if reading your mind, Bucky says, “Sorry there’s so much. I think Tony went overboard.”

You blink down at the food. Tony made you a plate? You expected Pepper to do it, if anyone. Quite frankly, you weren’t expecting it at all. You figured they wouldn’t even notice your absence.

Bucky wordlessly steps to the side, giving you access to the microwave. It even looks expensive, which makes you snort. It’s touchscreen. Of-fucking-course.

“We missed you at dinner,” Bucky says. You didn’t know he liked to talk this much.

“I fell asleep,” you confess with a laugh. “Tony uh, showed me the controls for the bed.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “No more sleeping on the floor for you, then?”

You shrug.

“I sleep on the floor most nights, too,” Bucky continues, taking in a deep breath. “It’s just…”

“Normal,” you finish quietly.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It feels normal.”

You turn back to the microwave, opening the door a second before it beeps. The food is warm enough now, you guess. Where the hell are the forks, though?

After opening two drawers, Bucky realizes what you’re looking for. “Here.” He opens the drawer across from you and pulls out a fork.

“Thanks,” you murmur, taking it from him. “Night.”

He nods and gives a slight wave. “Night.”

+++

The next day, Pepper stops by your room with a ton of clothes, shoes, and a phone.

“Uhm, thanks…”

“I know it’s a lot,” she smiles gently. “And if you don’t like anything, just let me know. Or if I didn’t get anything that you need, let me know, too.” She pauses. “You don’t have to do it now.”

“Okay,” you sigh, trying not to feel overwhelmed, but it’s hard. There’s like...fifteen bags on your bed right now. Not to mention the boxes of shoes that are stacked on the floor. And the new phone, still in the box, that you’re holding in your hand.

Pepper points to the phone. “It should have my number, Tony’s number, and the rest of the Avengers programmed in there. You’ll see one named Happy, that’s just Tony’s assistant, just in case. You don’t have to talk to everyone on there, but they do have your number as well. It’s all a precautionary thing. Oh, and the phone can be tracked.” She pauses, lowering her voice. “Just a heads up. In case Tony goes crazy.”

You smile at that. “Thanks.” As if he hasn’t already gone crazy and driven you closer to insanity, too.

“Speaking of Tony,” she says. “He’s willing to do the paternity test whenever you are.”

“Okay,” you nod. “Is today good?”

Pepper blinks. “I don’t see why not.”

“Okay, just...I’ll put some clothes on first.” You’re still wearing what Wanda gave you.

“Yeah, of course,” she nods. “I’ll let Tony know and whenever you’re ready, you can just ask FRIDAY to take you to the lab.”

“Okay.”

Pepper leaves you be, while you get dressed, and it takes you a lot longer than you were expecting.

There are so many clothes.

After finding something somewhat comfortable (and because you’re tired of looking through the bags), you grab your phone, though it feels foreign having it in your pocket.

“FRIDAY...where is the lab?”

“If you head to the elevator, I’ll take you there.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course, Y/N.”

Following FRIDAY’s orders, you head to the elevator and step inside. The doors close and the elevator begins to move, and when it stops, the doors behind you open.

“Welcome to Mr. Stark’s lab.”

Hesitantly, you step off, and you’re met with blaring music.

“Really?” You scream, and Tony lifts his head. “AC/DC? Really?”

The volume lowers a little while Tony replies. “You know your music. I’m impressed.”

“I’m disappointed,” you say. “I prefer Pink Floyd.”

Tony smirks. ‘Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2’ begins to play. You hate that you grin, but you do.

“Much better,” you comment. “Pepper told me to come here?”

He nods. “Right, the Father Test.”

You snort. Of course he calls it that.

“We’ll have to head down to MedBay to do it. I’ll be done in just a second.” He taps something on the screen before looking back up. “Did Pepper give you your phone?”

“Yeah.” You pull the device from your pocket and wave it. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“I’m not gonna leave you stranded without a phone,” Tony replies. “Also, just for the foreseeable future, don’t leave the Tower without someone. Preferably without me.”

You furrow your eyebrows. You hadn’t thought about leaving and going anywhere until now. “Why?”

“Well, for one, you have an arrest warrant,” he reminds you. “They won’t question it if I’m with you. Which is why it needs to be me — Steve is also fine. But, let’s say, if you left with Bucky, they wouldn’t hesitate to grab both of you.”

“Wasn’t he pardoned or something?”

“Doesn’t mean no one holds a grudge against him.”

You nod. “Right.” Then, you reel back. “So you’re not going to turn me in?”

He shrugs. “I believe you. Even though you won’t tell me who stabbed you.” He taps something else, then drags the screen, and a hologram appears right in front of him.

You roll your eyes. “Because I don’t know who they were. I told you.”

“And I still think you’re lying,” he retorts.

You glare at him through the hologram.

A few more minutes pass where all that fills the silence is Pink Floyd. You’re not complaining, but even Tony’s breathing is grating to your ears.

Once he’s finally finished with whatever the hell he was doing, he heads to the elevator, and you silently follow him.

+++

This time when you enter MedBay, it’s empty, aside from the on-site doctor, Dr. Cho.

“Here for the Father Test,” Tony quips, smirking when Dr. Cho rolls her eyes at him.

You like Dr. Cho already.

“Alright,” she says, putting a pause on what she was doing. “It’s just a simple cheek swab and a little blood.”

“Blood?” You ask. You hate having your blood drawn. Not because of the needle, but because of the idea of your blood being drawn out of your body and used for things you’re unaware of.

It’s creepy.

“Just a small amount,” Dr. Cho assures you with a soft smile. “It acts as a double-check for the paternity test. The cheek swab can give us a general yes or no, but blood is definitive.”

You agree, you just hate it.

First is the cheek swab and Dr. Cho lets you do it, probably sensing your anxiety. She refuses to let Tony do his on his own, but that probably has something to do with how much of a child he is.

Tony gets his blood drawn first, and it is too short for your liking, because once he’s done, Dr. Cho preps you.

Your head is turned the other way while she wipes your skin. Tony moves into your line of vision, and you’re ready to tell him to fuck off before he teases you, but he doesn’t.

He just talks to you.

“Barnes told me you fell asleep yesterday.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Yeah. That’s why I missed dinner. He said you made a plate for me?”

“I did,” Tony nods. “I didn’t want you to go hungry.”

“I could tell,” you snort. “There was enough food on the plate to feed four of me.”

He chuckles. “Did you at least eat?”

“Yeah, I did,” you say. “It was good.”

“Good. How’s the bed?”

“Really good,” you say. “Thanks for showing me the controls and stuff.”

“No problem,” he shrugs. “Nat asked me earlier if you’d like to train with her and Wanda.”

“Train?”

“Yeah, train, workout, whatever you want to call it. Barnes and Rogers usually run if that’s more your speed, Wilson, too, when he’s here.”

“Who’s Wilson?”

“Sam,” Tony fills in. “Falcon.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“He’s in...Louisiana right now, but he should be back here in a few days, so you’ll meet him.” He pauses. “But...stay away from him.”

“Why?”

“He’s...flirty.”

You nearly wheeze. “Are you joking?”

“Nope,” he shakes his head. “I’ve been meaning to say that about Barnes, too. I don’t care if you talk to him. I think it’s good for him — and you. But don’t…” He waves his hands in an ambiguous manner.

“Tony, the absolute last thing on my mind right now is a boyfriend, but even if it was, why would you have any say in it?” You counter.

“Because I know them, and I don’t want them anywhere near you,” he says, like that’s the end of it. “All done, Dr. Cho?”

“All done,” she confirms, and that’s when you feel her pressing a Band-Aid over your skin.

Your head whips around. You didn’t even feel the needle go in or out. What the fuck?

You look back at Tony with a small smile. “Well played.”

“You’re welcome,” he smirks. “Though, I wasn’t kidding.”

You roll your eyes. “Not even Nat or Wanda?”

He looks surprised, but still shakes his head. “Still no.”

“Darn. My plans have been foiled.”

This time when he looks at you, he smiles.

As the two of you are walking to the elevator, he says, “Want to help me in the lab? I’ll let you control the music — just this once.”

You almost say yes, but you’re not really in the mood. “No, thanks though. I really should go through all the clothes Pepper brought me.”

“Ah, right,” he nods. “She told me she went shopping.”

“Yeah…” You exhale. “She went.”

You step onto the elevator after him, and he presses the floors for you and the lab.

“You know, Wanda might help you sort through the clothes if you ask. She might wear whatever you don’t want.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll ask.”

“She’s training right now, though.”

You nod. “Okay. It can wait, I guess.”

Tony rocks on his heels. “I could really use an extra set of hands…”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

He grins. “You still want to control the music?”

“There’s no way I’m letting you play AC/DC the whole time.”

[tinyboxxtink]

"Not My Yacht" *Chapter 1?*

So this is interesting:

So "Not My Yacht" was my very first fic. Like, I'm talking VERY VERY first.

So when I started asking around about ideas for a new series, a few of my lovelies went through my one shots and this story and "Doodling" got some good votes.

So, I decided to include the one shot and just added to it for a POTENTIAL new series. We'll see how this chapter goes over.

Also I'll be including Rita Calhoun in this for the FIRST time ever, so I may need assistance from @storiesofsvu to get her voice right. I did my best here. I'll be honest I've never really watched her, just that one where that guy blackmailed her or something.

Also Also, if it wasn't obvious enough this is obviously the beginning of the SVU episode "Her Negations".

I don't want to give anything away because I haven't even really thought that far, but I'm 95% sure this is going to turn in a William Lewis situation fic. So...pretty dark. I'm just warning you NOW.

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

And yes, the results are in. There is a part 2!

You breathed in the salty air of the sea of the sunny South Hampton shore; It was a beautiful day for a yacht party.

You walked along the pier as you got closer to your boss’s boat: The Crime Wave. Her husband’s idea of a funny name she claimed as she had invited people from the office to this soiree. You were lucky to even get an invite, just being the assistant to the owner of the law firm. “Who else is going to help me dodge boring conversations with men who just wanted a "free ride” on the bosses boat?“ She had teased you; or at least you hoped she was kidding.

You really wanted to just relax and mingle among the elite lawyers of NYC, seeing as you wanted to be one of them someday.

You saw your boss, Rita Calhoun waving you down as you reached the dock space.

"Ah! There you are, for a minute I thought I’d have to mix my own drinks!” She laughed with a wink. You laugh nervously, unable to discern if she was kidding.

“Calm down sweetie, I’m a big girl. Besides, I like to make them myself, strong,” she laughed again, patting your shoulder. Crap had your face looked that panicked? Keep it cool!

“Go ahead, enjoy yourself. I’ll be here, making sure none of those damn punks tries to sneak on here for free booze,” she scoffed, nodding to a group of highly dressed teens playing chicken on the shoreline.

You nodded with a half laugh, stepping onto the yacht. It was a decent size, a second level deck and a very spacious main level. Not a lot of people had arrived yet, so you decided to pick a spot on the yachts back bench area before all the seating was taken. You began removing your over clothes revealing your swimming wear when you hear Rita greet someone else.

“Ah, Barba. You know we have flare guns on board,”

You turn to see the ADA of New York, Rafael Barba. He’s dressed in a windbreaker and what could be either a dark red or salmon polo. You realize Mrs. Calhoun is referring to the almost neon yellow color of the windbreaker, and you can’t help but giggle. It must have been way too loud because they both turn to you which caused you to immediately shut up and go back to undressing and laying out your towel, but ever so slightly still honed in on the conversation.

“You can never be too careful Rita, who knows how many enemies I’ve made in this town; someone might throw me over,” he smirked.

“And anyone here could make it look like a very convincing accident….even my aspiring protege over there,” Rita nods over to you, knowing full well what you were doing.

Barba turned and looked at you, your body frozen in mid towel thrust. You didn’t know whether to throw it over yourself or just run off the boat right there.

“I know it’s an awful jacket dear, you don’t have to keep staring at him.” She called over to you. God why did she have to be so….her.

“Jesus Rita give the girl a break, or did you invite her just to torture her on unbillable hours?” Barba scoffed with a half smile, walking over to you.

“Is it really worth the minimum wage to put up with her?” He asked.

“Mmm…it’s more for the experience, honestly.” You replied surprisingly smoothly.

“Oh….well I mean I could give you the experience without–” He started but was interrupted by your boss’s loud exclaiming.

“Yeah I’ll BET you’d give her experience Barba! Stop hitting on my intern and mingle with the adults.”

If you could dig a hole straight through the boat into the ocean you would do it right then and there.

“…..Without THAT.” He rolled his eyes, lightly flipping her the bird behind his back. You see her respond with a laugh then turns her attention back to the guests boarding.

“She’s probably been drinking since she got on the boat, yeah?” He asked you.

“I…I don’t know I just got here….” You managed to squeak out as your towel strayed from your hands. Barba grabbed it and helped you reposition it on the bench.

“Kinda windy for a yacht party, but Rita will take any chance to celebrate anything remotely resembling a boost to her ego. Am I right?” He chuckled, before sitting down on your towel.

“Just to keep it from blowing away, do you mind?” He asked, gesturing for you to join him. You nodded a boisterous “NO”, plopping next to him on the bench.

“I’m Rafael Barba,” he extended his hand to you, which you took and shook gently, praying to God he didn’t notice you were literally shaking. You had probably had the biggest crush on him since you started working with Mrs. Calhoun, he was constantly in her office challenging her with warrants and favors.

“Oh yeah I know,” you blurted out, mentally facepalming immediately.

“I see….” He raised an eyebrow. “And you are….?”

You were about to answer when his phone went off. He answered it putting one finger up and mouthing the words “one second.”

“Barba. Yeah….what? Seriously, Olivia? On a Sunday?!” He groaned into his phone with an exaggerated eye roll. He raised his hand and ran it over his face begrudgingly as he talked.

“Yeah….alright, fine. Yeah I’ll be there, give me an hour. I’m in the Hamptons. Because it’s my day off, Liv! Do you think I lock myself in my office over the weekends like a vampire in a coffin? Yeah…I’m sorry, I just…” He glanced at you.

“I was enjoying my Sunday.” He gave you a small sad smile.

“Yeah. Ok. See you soon.” He hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go back to the city. Don’t let Rita push you around too much, okay?” He chuckled, rubbing the top of your head like a puppy. You felt your face scrunch up in annoyance, seriously? He thought of you as a kid?!

He obviously noticed, and quickly held out his hand again very sternly.

“Sorry, future counselor.” He said in an overly serious tone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. Again. Like an idiot.

Relieved he had fixed his faux paux, he gave you one last beautiful Barba grin as he jogged over to Rita and told her something before nodding to you once again, then walked off the boat and disappearing down the pier.

Your boss sauntered over to you, a shit eating grin across her face.

“Well Cinderella, you sure kept that cool.” She gestured for your phone beside you.

“Be sure to tell him your name this time,” she winked, handing it back to you. You glanced down at it as she walked away; she had added a number to your contacts.

“BHole Barba.” You laughed out loud. Nice. Maybe she wasn’t such a horrible boss after all….

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

By Monday you still hadn’t had the balls to text Rafael Barba. You had just stared at the number in your phone, imagining all the possibilities contacting him would lead to. You may have gotten so far as planning your summer wedding in the Hamptons, but nobody needed to know that.

But you had chickened out and left it alone, and now you were sitting at your desk typing up a memo for Rita when you saw him come waltzing through the door.

“Ah, Cinderella!” He smiled at you.

“Hey…” Your mind went blank, you couldn’t think of words. Wait, had he already given you a nickname?

“Cinderella?” You blinked in confusion.

“Well I never caught your name-- But I guess I shouldn’t even push it, you’ve clearly moved on and I must seem like a creep,” His train of thought proceeded out loud as he realized you hadn’t taken his number and here he was still flirting with you. Rita had given it to you, he had seen her type it in your phone. Obviously you weren’t interested, why was he pushing this?

“What? NO!” You said a little louder than you intended, actually a lot louder than you intended. You slapped your hand over your mouth after your little outburst, but to you relief he was still smiling.

“Oh? Well I suppose that’s good…” He was obviously fishing for your excuse as to why you had waited until he popped back in your face to talk to him.

“No, I um--” You racked your brain for an excuse that wasn’t “I was busy planning our lives together”.

“I….couldn’t think of something interesting to say,” You finally admitted with a pitiful sigh. You were not a good liar, and under pressure, forget about it.

Again, he still smiled-- but this time he laughed along with it.

“I mean, ‘Hello’ is always an option,” He chuckled. “Or...your name?”

“Oh!” Idiot. You hadn’t even given him your name, how was he supposed to fall madly in love with you without a name?

“Y/N,” You stuck your hand out awkwardly, Was this a ‘shake hands’ moment? Hadn’t you already met before? You stared at your hand as you moved it slightly back and forth, arguing with yourself whether or not this was necessary. Luckily, Rafael settled the argument by taking your hand and shaking it firmly.

His hands were so soft, his long fingers enveloped yours in them. You lost yourself in the moment, and before you knew it he was making an uncomfortable cough, snapping you back to reality. You dropped his hand and snapped yours back into your body like a zip cord, your face in a horrified stare.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, that was so weird. I’m weird. I’m--”

“Well I don’t know what you were so worried about Cinderella, you’re clearly a chatterbox,” He gave you a tongued smile, referring to the word vomit you just couldn’t help spill all over him.

“Oh yeah, I’m a total word machine,” You laughed nervously. A word machine? What the fuck was that?

“...Word machine. Right,” He nodded in amusement. “Well word machine, would you mind shooting some words to my phone, or do you just enjoy this face to face thing?”

“With that face? Definitely the latter. But you can have my number anyway,” You typed a quick message and sent it to his number. Damn that was smooth! How did you do that?

Rafael made an impressed face with your line, but when he opened his phone his brows furrowed.

“Hit?” He gave you a curious look as he read the text out loud.

“Fuck it was supposed to be ‘hi’-- stupid autocorrect,” You muttered angrily. Yeah, that was more like you.

“Oh yes, the dreaded autocorrect,” He nodded while saving your number. “Turning fucks into ducks since 2011,”

“Oh I didn’t have a phone in 7th grade but I’ll take your word for it,” You laughed, but stopped when his face twisted into a mix of horror and discomfort when he realized how young you actually were.

Dammit. Why...why would you do this?

“....Right, is Rita in?” He quickly shoved his phone back in his pocket and headed into Rita’s office before you could answer.

“...Idiot!” You yelled at yourself as your hands went over your face and your face planted into your desk.

Well, that was nice while it lasted. All 2.5 seconds of it.

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

“Well Barba, about time,” Rita smirked as Rafael abruptly burst into her office trying to get away from you. “Done flirting with the intern are we?”

“Shut up,” He rolled his eyes, though his face was a deep shade of red.

“Oh no, what happened? Did your dentures fall out in front of her?” She smirked.

“I’m younger than you!!” He scoffed.

“Yeah but I’m not the one trying to boff a 25 year old,” She smirked harder, making Rafael angrier.

“Can I just get the warrant I came here for, Rita?” He huffed.

“Oooh, struck a nerve there, did I?” Rita chuckled as she grabbed some papers from her desk and started to hand them to him. “Barba, for the record I’m really not judging you. If I were 20 years younger, I’d hit it too,”

“Excuse me?”

“I had a lot of ‘cats’ in college,” She winked.

“Wow,” Rafael held up his hands. “Rita, we really don’t need to be that personal.”

“Fine, but all I’m saying is if you like the girl, don’t let a stupid thing like age deter you. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s actually very competent and organized. I would almost prefer her not to graduate, unless she'd come work for me. She’s going to be a hell of a lawyer,” She gestured outside to your desk.

Rafael looked at the ground as he mulled over what she was saying, a small smile crawled across his lips as she complimented your potential.

“I’ll take that under advisement, Mrs. Calhoun,” He nodded as he walked towards the door with the papers in his hand, a huge smile across his face now.

He walked out to find you cursing at yourself and whimpering in embarrassment at your desk. When you heard the door shut you snapped to attention and stared at him, shocked he hadn't sprinted out of the office like Usain Bolt. Even more shocking was that Cheshire cat grin now upon his face.

“I-I’m sorry, I totally meant I was--” You tried doing math trying to make yourself reasonably older.

“It’s fine,” He chuckled as he put a hand over your counting fingers. You blushed at the touch of his skin on yours again, but quickly shoved your hands under the desk nervously as you tried not to look him square in the eye. His eyes were so gorgeous you were positive staring straight into them would actually get you pregnant.

“So does Rita ever unchain you from this desk?” He smirked as he was now very aware and very amused at how nervous he made you. He may be old, but clearly he’s still got it.

“Oh yeah, if I ask very nicely she let’s me--” You tried to think of something witty, but it wasn’t coming with him staring at you with those eyes. “....Yes,” You wanted to put your hands over your face but you didn’t want it to be a ‘thing’.

“Well, maybe if you’re an extra good girl she’ll let you off your leash early tonight,” He winked.

“....Am I a dog or a toddler in that situation?” You were genuinely asking, but Rafael clearly realized how insulting that must have seemed.

“Oh no no no, I just, shit,” He tried to backtrack but if he was being totally honest, you made him nervous. Maybe he didn’t have ‘it’ as much as he thought.

You noticed he was the one blushing now, oh my god were you making him nervous? QUICK, BE SMOOTH. BE SMOOTHER THAN YOU’VE EVER BEEN IN YOUR LIFE.

“Are you asking me out, counselor?” You did your best “sultry “voice with a bat of your eyes. Were you batting them too much? What was too much? Oh god you’ve done it for too long now. STOP BATTING.

“...I don’t know, guess you’ll have to wait for me to text you, future counselor,” He was impressed by the line, and decided to bow out before either of you made idiots of yourselves again. He gave you a wink and sauntered out of the office.

Great. Now he’ll probably make you wait two days for a--

*BEEP*

Your phone went off in your desk. You pulled it out to see a text message:

BHOLE BARBA: Dinner? Tonight?

You really needed to change his contact name. But that wasn’t the point right now. He just asked you out. Rafael Barba just asked you out. You stared at in your hands, unsure of what to do. Then you realized you couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t just sit there and imagine things, this required an immediate response.

You nervously typed a reply and hit SEND:

Sire ;)

“DAMMIT!!!” You cursed your autocorrect. You instantly sent another text.

Sure***

Before you could lecture yourself again, your phone beeped again:

BHOLE BARBA: Play

Play? What did that--

BHOLE: Okay** ;)

You typed the word ‘okay’ into your text reply bubble, ‘play’ came up in the autocorrect word list.

He was joking with you. He was flirting with you. RAFAEL BARBA WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU.

This work day could not end fast enough.

[gwynrielendgame]

Gwyncien part 3

Idk if y’all will like this one as much. It’s kind of a filler but it took forever to write so I’m posting it anyways. I’ll tag people who have asked below.

Gwyn thought she might puke and it had nothing to do with Lucien's winnowing abilities. She never thought she would feel so nauseas especially after the blood rite. She supposes that the imminent fear of death had her more distracted from her typical anxieties. Now that she could focus on the fact that she was actually leaving Velaris, she felt sick. She grabbed onto Lucien harder and closed her eyes tightly. What felt like hours later, although it was truly only a minute or two, Lucien spoke.

"Welcome to the band of exiles." She opened her eyes to a surprisingly large castle. She was not sure what she expected, perhaps an abandoned cabin, but the building was spectacular and beautiful.

"Jurian and Vassa are excited to meet you." Lucien added as they continued to stand out front. It appeared that he would allow her to stand here for as long as she needed. She knew that if she demanded he take her right back he would. His words finally caught up with her brain that seemed to be running a mile a minute. Why would his closest friends be excited to meet her she thought. It made her anxious for the first time. Perhaps she mistook his friendly countenance for something less than it actually was. She would address it later. She began walking towards the door, mumbling under her breath.

"Let's get this over with."

"That's the spirit!" Lucien inserted much more enthusiasm than necessary into his tone. He grabbed her arm and laced it through his which had her feeling very grateful. Her knees were shaking as she walked and she knew he could tell. Gwyn felt the need to remind herself that he had a mate. She wondered if he would be desperate enough to make a move on her. A large, beautifully decorated foyer greeted them. Two very beautiful people stood in the middle of the white marble floor. Gwyn tightened her hold on Lucien when she saw the new male, stopping them mid-walk. She started her mind-stilling technique as the anxiety clawed at her chest and throat. She would eventually have to face men if she ever wanted to get her revenge. She could not allow a few measly physical reactions hold her back. She took one last deep breathe and then continued walking towards the couple. She spent less time analyzing the female, but from what she saw Gwyn knew she was beautiful. She also had red hair, however, Gwyn's hair was more of a copper/bronze red while Vassa had a deep maroon red. Gwyn kept her eye on Jurian though.

"You are making her nervous, standing there like two parents ready to scold their children." Lucien reprimanded his friends with a roll of his eyes. The female waved his comment off, completely ignoring him. Gwyn did not miss the look they shared, however.

"I am Vassa and this is Jurian." She gestured to the male next to her. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard so much about you." It unnerved Gwyn that the few interactions that she had with Lucien warranted Vassa knowing much about her. She did not think much on it as she continued to watch the beautiful male. He had hair cropped short to his head and a deep skin tone. His looks were not what had her distracted though. It was the weapons. Gwyn found it unnecessary for him to require weapons while meeting with her. Instead of exchanging pleasantries like socially integrated Fae would, she began her questioning.

"Why so many daggers?" She gave him a scathing look while cocking her head to the side. He would not manipulate her into believing anything but the truth and she wanted that to be conveyed in her facial expression. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline as if he were surprised.

"I could ask you the same question." He threw back at her with a smirk. It only infuriated her more. He could not tell she had daggers on her. She was wearing a cloak over her priestess robes with silver majesty strapped to her thigh. There was no possible way he could see the outline through her clothes. She narrowed her eyes and waited for him to respond. The staring contest was only broken when Lucien cleared his throat and Vassa nudged him.

"Fine." Jurian conceded with a smile. "Vassa is woefully bad at handling anything sharp, so I have taken on the role of her protecter while soon-to-be high lord is out and about." Both Vassa and Lucien seemed annoyed by his explanation. The anxiety began to loosen in her chest though. He was not completely trusted, but in this moment he would not attack.

"Gwyn." Is all she managed for an introduction. It seemed good enough for Lucien because he began leading her off to the side of the room towards a grand staircase.

"I will be showing Gwyneth her room and then we can talk." He threw over his shoulder. She held onto his arm all the way up the long staircase and through an even longer hallway. She laughed internally at the size of the mansion considering only three people resided here. A thought occurred to her when they finally came to a stop at a door.

"How many people live here?" She finally let go of Lucien and took a step back.

"Just us three. And now you. Occasionally we have a guest or two, but I will give you ample warning before that time. This will be your bedroom here. Mine is right across the hall if you need anything. There is a lock on the inside, but if you would like I can show you how to set up some furniture to keep the door from opening at all." Lucien gave her a small smile. It made her soften towards him even more.

"Thank you. I appreciate that. I appreciate all that you have done for me. Truly. I cannot say thank you enough." She gave him a short hug to convey her gratefulness. He returned it, hesitantly. His touch was feather light. As though he did not want to touch her and make her uncomfortable. She stepped back towards the door once more and began to walk inside.

"I will come get you before dinner. You have a full wardrobe to pick from in there if you would like to change. If there is anything you require, just ask." Gwyn nodded and then he was gone.

The first thing Gwyn noticed was that the satchel she packed earlier before leaving was sitting on the bed. She had been so nervous about everything else that she had not even realized it was missing. Gwyn continued to survey the room. It was beautiful. The decorations reminded her of the night court. Lucien really did pay attention to the smallest details. Gwyn truly believed Elain was an idiot for not giving Lucien a chance. The bedding was all black and the drapes twinkled with specks of a shiny material. It almost made them look like stars. The bed was unnecessarily large and so was the desk that was off to the side of the room. It had been such a mentally exhausting day that Gwyn decided a nap was needed. She locked her door and stripped off her cloak. She knew the lock would do nothing against winnowing, but as far as she knew only Lucien could do that. She placed her desk chair under the doorknob anyways. She fell onto the bed without even removing her priestess robes. She did remove her dagger and place it under her pillow for protection. A small smile graced her face as she thought of a certain spymaster who also slept with a dagger under his pillow.

Soft footsteps woke Gwyn from her sleep. She had no idea how long she had slept, but knew that dinner must be approaching if it had not already passed. A light knock on the door made her jump.

"Gwyn? Dinner is almost ready if you would like to join us downstairs." Lucien yelled through the door. Gwyn's racing heart began to slow as she realized where she was and who was speaking to her.

"One moment." She decided this dinner was not worth changing her clothes so she grabbed her dagger, putting it back in its sheath, and flattened her hair down with her hands. She did not want to keep Lucien waiting after all. The second she stepped out of the room, a sly smile crossed the male's face.

"What?" Gwyn demanded a tad self-consciously. She flattened her hair once more.

"Enjoyed a nap I see?" He was teasing, but that did nothing to stop her from shoving him.

"Oh shut up and show me the dining room." A real smile graced his face as he put his arm out for her to grab. She was half tempted to shove his arm away for his teasing. Instead, she rolled her eyes and held onto his arm anyways.

"Your wish is my command."

The castle was truly beautiful. Gwyn knew she could spend hours looking at the art pieces- some of them looked familiar. She would guess those were done by Feyre. The marble flooring and intricate ceilings were only part of the beauty. It has clearly been decorated. Perhaps Vassa and Lucien bonded over similar tastes in rugs. The thought made Gwyn giggle internally. The castle was so large that it took them about five minutes before they reached the dining hall. Gwyn took her place next to Lucien across from Jurian and Vassa who were already pleasantly discussing Vassa’s doomed fate. They quickly stopped talking once she sat down and turned the conversation to her.

"So I have been dying to know," Jurian begins "is Rhysand as much of a prick as he pretends to be?" Lucien sent him a glare which only had Jurian shrugging with an innocent expression upon his face. Gwyn sighed.

"Depends on who you are. He is kind to me, but only out of pity from what he witnessed at Sangravah. I have seen him be cruel to those he purposefully does not want to understand. I am not here as your spy though. That is as much from me as you will get about Rhysand." Gwyn truly felt a level of gratefulness to the high lord, however, he often squandered any other positive feelings she had of him by constantly looking at her as if he was seeing that day in Sangravah all over again. It did nothing to help her forget. Jurian gave a contemplative look before turning his attention to his plate. Vassa decided to try her hand at conversation.

"How are the Archeron sisters? I know the death of their father was hard on all of them." Vassa took a sip of wine. Gwyn did not want to discuss this either though. Speaking of Nesta made her miss her sisters.

"They are as well as could be expected." It was generic and had the fiery red head pursing her lips in displeasure. Gwyn did not quite care.

“Gwyn is a beautiful singer.” Lucien finally changed the subject to something that she did not mind engaging in. “We will need you to sing for us sometime.” Gwyn nodded in agreement. The conversation continued on with Lucien boasting about Gwyn, talking about her training as a Valkyrie and winning the blood rite. She started feeling uncomfortable with all the compliments he was sending her way. It reminded her of a conversation she needed to have with him. Right now was as good of a time as any she supposed.

"It was extremely generous of you to offer your help, but I feel I should inform you that I am not interested in anything other than your friendship." Gwyn interrupted Lucien mid-speech to clarify. He looked startled by her statement. Jurian choked on his wine and Vassa cackled like there would be no tomorrow. It made Gwyn feel as though she was on the outside of some joke they all knew.

"Excuse me?" Lucien, for once, looked genuinely surprised. It was as if he could not quite believe she would say that and needed her to repeat it just in case he heard her wrong. Maybe Gwyn misinterpreted some of his advances.

"I know our coupling seems inevitable," Gwyn explained further a bit shyly, not quite sure of herself anymore. "But I am not interested in any one that is not Azriel." Vassa's cackles slowed down to more of a chuckle and Jurian kept sending amused looks to Lucien.

"Gwyn, I am your grandfather." Lucien approached the topic slowly. "I assumed your mother talked about me, but, and I really hope this is the case, you did not know this?" His tone lifted up at the end in questioning.

Oh, Gwyn thought. She was not easily surprised, but this topped the cake. She tried to think back to anytime her mother mentioned her grandparents, but the instances were few and far between. Gwyn realized she did not even know their names. Suddenly, every compliment and favor from Lucien no longer appeared odd. He was complimenting and bragging about his only living granddaughter. This took much longer to process than Gwyn would like to admit. Unexpectedly, she felt an unwarranted amount of anger towards Lucien.

"And you waited until this very moment to tell me? What the hell Lucien? Or should I say grandpa?" Her tone was more hostile than it had been with anyone else. The sarcastic comment at the end had the red-haired male cringing. Jurian and Vassa started laughing once more.

"I know this is not great timing to interrupt, but I, for one, will be referring to you as grandpa from here on out." Jurian inserted. Vassa gave an amused smirk, but said nothing. It earned him a glare from Gwyn and Lucien though.

"I apologize, Gwyneth, for the delayed reveal. I thought you knew that's why I offered to help you, though. I assumed your mother had spoken of Jesminda and I. She was rather young when we had to surrender her, I suppose." Lucien looked so genuine that Gwyn's anger diminished as fast as it had appeared. Gwyn's family history had always been a mystery to her. She might finally get some answers.

"Jesminda is my grandmother?" Gwyn inquired. Her own mother had never given details. This adventure was beginning to answer many questions she had always had.

"Yes." Lucien said. Gwyn was trying to understand his expression and tone. She spent another minute watching him. Their other table mates had gone quiet as well. It did not take a genius to understand the moment. Jesminda had never been mentioned before to her from anyone and she was not here right now. She was dead that much was clear. Lucien cleared his throat and for a brief second Gwyn could see the emotion he was so desperately trying to hide, guilt.

"Why did you give my mother to Sangravah?" Gwyn realized it probably had something to do with Jesminda's death. She truly wanted more details. Lucien sighed heavily, probably understanding that there were many questions in store for him.

"Beron just ordered for Jesminda to be tortured and executed in front of me. I am certain if he had known of your mother, he would have had the same future in store for her. I had kept the child a secret from everyone except a brother, who helped me hide her after Jesminda's death." It did not escape Gwyn's attention that Lucien neither referred to Beron as his high lord nor as his father. Lucien ran a hand through his hair roughly. Her hair was clearly from him, but it was his one russet eye that had her pausing. An eye that suddenly reminded her so much of Catrin.

"Why did he kill her?" She asked softly. Gwyn realized she would never be able to deny Lucien anything. One look from his russet eye and Gwyn would give in simply because of its similarity to her dead twin.

"Because he's a spiteful old man." Vassa spit out. Clearly, she was just as enraged by the situation. It made Gwyn wonder if Vassa and Lucien had ever been together. Lucien rolled his eyes at the fiery female. He seemed to roll his eyes constantly while he was here.

"Because he could," Lucien added. "Your mother, who was about six at the time, was extremely unsafe even under my brother and I's protection. Beron would put your mate to shame with all the torture tactics he uses. I dropped her off on the doorstep of that church in the middle of the night. I always planned to go back and visit, but I was nervous and I knew she was safe there. I felt it was selfish to visit her since it only put her in more danger." Gwyn felt sad for everyone involved. Sad for Lucien who watched his love be tortured and executed in front of him only for him to have to turn around and surrender his daughter to a church. Sad for Jesminda who died that day. Sad for her mother who must have lived every day wondering where her parents went and why they abandoned her. Sad for Catrin who never got to meet her grandfather.

"I had a sister." Gwyn felt the need to mention. She was unaware of how much Lucien knew, but it suddenly felt important to her that he knew of Catrin.

"I know." He responded with a sad smile. "This family is well versed in tragedy." Gwyn had so many more questions. She had time to ask though. Her questions were making Lucien relive memories that were better left untouched. Perhaps he had endured enough for one night. She looked down at her full plate. She had been so distracted that she had not touched a thing. She began to devour her food as the rest of the table engaged in a debate about seasonings and which was the best.

"Have you and Vassa..." Gwyn trailed off, leaving the innuendo open when Lucien walked her back to her room after dinner.

"She wishes." He chuckled.

"Would you be with Elain if you could?"

"I would not jump into a mating ceremony but I would like the chance to get to know her. She has not given me the opportunity." He answered practically with his arms folded behind his back. Gwyn felt the need to assure him that knowing Elain would not make any of this easier.

"Trust me, it's better this way." She did not want to leave the conversation on such a sore point. As they approached her door, Gwyn jokingly shoved him. "So this would make Elain my step-grandmother?" Lucien was quiet before speaking. It was not the reaction she hoped for.

"Elain does not know. No one knows. And no one can know, even Azriel. At least until Beron is dead. Make no mistakes if Beron were to discover you, he would torture you simply to spite my mother." His lips pursued together in displeasure.

"Azriel is very good with secrets." She felt the need to remind Lucien. He is a Shadowsinger after all.

"Not with his high lord. If Rhysand knew, he would tell Beron if he had too. If Nyx or Feyre's life were on the line, he would do anything to save them. That includes selling you out. This is very important, Gwyneth. You cannot tell anyone- promise me." His stare was so intense that she could not look away. He grabbed her hands in a tight grip to make sure she understood how serious he was. Gwyneth had never purposely kept a secret from Azriel before. Hopefully, Beron would die sooner rather than later.

"I promise."

+++

Two weeks later

"What do you mean she’s gone?" Azriel was shocked to discover that Gwyn had left two weeks ago. He thought she had been avoiding training because of the kiss they shared- not because she was gone. He had been eating dinner with Nesta and Cassian when he finally had the courage to mention the priestess and where she had gone. Now he was mad that he had not asked sooner.

“She left with Lucien on some adventure. I am not really sure. Her note was unclear.” Nesta responded solemnly. The House dropped a piece of chocolate cake in front of her which made a small smile curve at the brash female’s lips. Azriel’s stomach dropped at the mention of Lucien. Gwyn did not know him well enough to go on an adventure with him. Gwyn would not leave her sisters here and she would definitely not choose Lucien to be the first person she left Velaris with. He was certain of that. He also knew Lucien to be a spiteful person. Perhaps he was tired of watching Azriel and Elain parade their relationship around him, making a fool of the one-eyed male. He could have taken Gwyn as retribution.

“He must have kidnapped her. Gwyn would never willingly leave the House of Wind with anyone- let alone Lucien.” Azriel knew this had to be true. Gwyn would never just up and leave. Guilt started gnawing at his chest as he realize he could have prevented her from being taken. If only his shadows would work properly around her, he could have prevented Lucien’s nefarious plans from being completed. His siphons started glowing the longer he though about it. He had to clench his hands around his silverware to keep from winnowing straight to the Band of Exiles and demanding his mate be given back. Nesta gave Azriel an odd look before speaking.

“She left a note that said she was willingly leaving with him and as much as he annoys the shit out of me, I don’t think he would hurt Gwyn.” A frown marred her face now, though. As if she had not considered that her sister could be in trouble. It only annoyed Az further.

“He could have made her write the note.” He reminded in a quiet, harsh voice. Gwyn and Lucien were not friends. She would have no reason to leave with him. Cassian was cautiously glancing between his mate and Azriel. He did not know what to say that would not piss off Az, so he was choosing to let Nesta handle the situation instead.

“She is not in danger.” Nesta declared after peeking at her wrist. There was no possible way for her to know whether Gwyn was safe or not. Even Azriel could not find out given how stubborn his shadows were being. He could always take a trip to the Band of Exiles, but he had to assume Lucien would not be stupid enough to take Gwyn there.

“You do not know that.” His wings flexed in anger. The siphons atop his hands were glowing dangerously bright now. He needed to get his emotions under control.

“Yes I do.” Nesta insisted with a roll of her eyes that annoyed Azriel to no ends. “My bracelet is not glowing. They glow when any of us is in trouble. It’s how I found her in the blood rite. It has not glowed since then either.”

“Hers could have fell off.” Gwyn would not have left after the kiss they shared. It was too important of a moment between them for her to have left immediately after.

“Gwyn and Lucien are friends, Az. You know if you want someone to blame for her leaving, maybe you should look inward.” It was a sharp jab that hurt more than the Shadowsinger would ever admit.

Suddenly though, he could see the hurt on Nesta’s face. It was there for only a second, but he saw it. Nesta was just as hurt by Gwyn’s departure as he was. He finally unclenched his hands from around his silverware- his fight giving out. Nesta was right. Lucien would never kidnap Gwyn especially if he thought it might upset Elain. Azriel chose this time to leave, however. He would not stoop to Nesta’s level and trade jab after jab. He headed to the training arena. It was hours later when slight footsteps could be heard making their way over to him. He was sitting at the edge, his exhaustion forcing him to take a break. Nesta took a seat next to him, resting her head against his shoulder.

"I miss her too, Shadowsinger." He said nothing in return because there was nothing else he could say. "You are worse than I was with the mating bond." Nesta tried again with a joke this time to try and get Azriel talking. She knew he was not normally one to discuss his feelings though. He gave her a withering look at that comment. It was an ongoing joke within the inner circle that Nesta handled the mate situation particularly horrible.

“Shut up.” Was all he responded with and he only said it halfheartedly.

"I am just saying, if you ask me for advice I could save you some time and heartache." They both continued to look out at the Velaris skyline.

"And what precious advice would you bestow upon me?" The comment was dripping in sarcasm, but he decided to humor her.

"Anyone other than your mate will be a disappointment, especially to you. Just accept it and her and everything else will become background noise." She looked up at him for a second before setting her head back down. He was not one to seek out comfort through touch, but sitting here with Nesta made him feel a bit better. Maybe it was because they could both ruminate in their sadness at Gwyn’s departure.

"Ah so wise. I had not considered that." Again the sarcasm was heavy.

"Well if you have thought about it and have not done it then I would consider you an idiot. You do not strike me as an idiot, Az." She was frustrated now- throwing her arms up and crossing them over her chest. He chuckled lightly.

"I think I might be." He admitted. Everything was so confusing with Mor and Elain that he lost focus of what was truly important.

"Gwyn is the most compassionate and understanding person I know. If she can love me, she can love you too. Just be honest with her." Her voice was soft now in a way that it never was. She always seemed to push him even when it seemed the rest of his family refused. It was the thing he liked most about Nesta- she was never scared of him or his feelings.

"Thanks Nes." He settled his head on top of hers and they stayed like that for hours- reminiscing in all things Gwyn.

[caiminnent]

my demise, my downfall [kylux, rated M]

Summary: Hux had no idea that Ren, his bedmate and partner in crime, was actually Ben Organa-Solo, the sole heir of First Order's biggest rival in the industry.

He didn't know Ben had a girlfriend, either.

Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

Tags: Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Use Your Words, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Armitage Hux is Not Nice, Kylo Ren isn't Much Better, Canon-Typical Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships

Notes: Photo by Mitchell Griest on Unsplash, cropped.

2.9K || Also on AO3

Hux wakes up to gentle caresses, a feather-light finger drawing unrecognisable shapes over his shoulders, down his back.

His eyes ache behind his eyelids, that didn’t-sleep-enough taste in his mouth. Torn between giving in to his body’s demands for rest and enjoying the soft touch while it lasts, he drifts on the edge of sleep and wakefulness, basking in the pleasant warmth.

Something rattles far behind him, jerking him fully awake. The touch withdraws.

Pushing his disappointment down, Hux takes a deep breath and rolls onto his back. Ren is sitting up in the middle of the bed with his legs stretched out, tapping away at his phone.

“Go back to sleep,” Ren says without looking, his tone sleep-gruff. “’s not morning yet.”

“Why are you awake, then?” Hux mumbles, though he doesn’t particularly care about the answer. A short night wasn’t enough to make up for six weeks of absence; Hux won’t be settled without at least a few more hours of sleep, another round and brunch.

Thank fuck it’s Sunday.

Ren doesn’t respond, focused on whatever he’s doing on his phone. Stretching languidly on the bed, “Come back here, Ren,” Hux purrs, kicking the covers away in the process. Ren’s eyes latch onto the bared skin.

“Can’t,” Ren says, shaking his head. The phone buzzes again, as if reminding them of itself—as if it gave Ren a chance to forget it. “Got plans.”

Hux’s mood sours. Plans. Ren has barely returned to the Core Worlds and he’s already making plans with others.

“What plans?” Hux asks, keeping his tone mild. It can’t be work; they don’t hide Snoke’s various demands from each other, if only so Snoke won’t be able to blindside them later. Ren doesn’t have any friends in this sector, either—none that Hux knows of, at least. Is it that girl? Is Ren running out of Hux’s bed straight into her arms?

Hux has never woken up in Ren’s bed, but he now knows how it would feel to be kicked out of it.

Ren is still typing, not even acknowledging the question. What the hell is he writing, a novel?

“Let me guess, then,” Hux says, poison-sweet. “Early breakfast with your sunshine?”

Ren freezes.

A vicious delight fills Hux. “Unless you two had urgent business to take care of at the Resistance HQ,” he continues evenly, ignoring the tension that thickens in the air between them. “First Order’s latest requisitions have put them in quite the bind; your mother is right to want you on-site, now that you’re—”

—pinned on the bed with Ren’s overly warm body covering his, Ren’s forearm across his throat and knees on Hux’s shins. Ren’s other hand presses Hux’s wrists into the mattress; so close to the knife Hux keeps between the mattress and the headboard, but at the entirely wrong angle to grab it.

“Bastard,” Hux hisses in Ren’s face, the bed groaning as he feebly tries to shake Ren off. Ren presses his knobbly knees harder into Hux’s legs in answer, as if trying to dig grooves into Hux’s bones. The pressure on his neck remains steady, only hard enough to make it uncomfortable to swallow. A half-hearted threat at best.

What a bloody embarrassment.

“You’re not supposed to know any of that,” Ren snarls, his nostrils flaring as he glares down at Hux. Hux stares back, keeping his gaze steady and his breathing even. He’s never been afraid of Snoke’s hound; that won’t change now. “I know Snoke forbid you from investigating me. Have you been fucking—fucking digging anyway?”

Hux scoffs. As if he’s got the time to dig into Ren’s life. “I was having a business dinner at the Starkiller last month, when you walked in with your lovely girlfriend.” It’s quite telling that Ren didn’t even notice Hux there, so captivated by her. “Have you ever noticed how her voice carries, Ben?”

Ren growls low in his throat like the beast he is, his shoulders and neck tensing. Inhaling deeply, Hux waits for the moment Ren will put his crushing weight on Hux’s windpipe, visualising his hands clenching and unclenching as his body struggles to draw air into his burning lungs, unable to even scrabble at Ren’s forearm. The spots in his darkening vision until he can’t see Ren’s face anymore. Waking up with bruises on his tender neck—or not waking up at all.

Ren can’t kill him, though. He isn’t allowed to, not until Hux outlives his usefulness for Snoke. Killing Hux now would mean Ren signing his own death warrant.

“That name,” Ren says lowly, his breath warm on Hux’s face, “isn’t for you to use. Nobody—nobody—can find out that you know it, or there will be consequences.” He gives Hux a long look, anxiety shining through the ebbing fury in his eyes. What happens if word of Ren’s real name gets out? What’s so important about it? “Hux. Do you understand?”

Hux scoffs. “Yes, damn you. I won’t tell anyone.” He wasn’t planning to anyway; this sort of personal information is more valuable as a bargaining chip. When the time comes, he’ll benefit from having leverage over Snoke’s protégé. It just might turn the tide in Hux’s favour.

Satisfied, Ren rolls off and away from Hux. For a moment, Hux can only breathe as his blood rushes back into his feet and hands with that pins-and-needles sensation. Something dark and ugly gathers in the pit of his stomach, a need to sink his teeth into Ren’s throat until he tastes blood rising in him.

Later. His chance will come later.

Ren’s found his trousers on the floor, putting them on. Hux feels oddly naked, vulnerable in only soft trousers while Ren dons his armour again.

Well, Hux is clearly not going back to sleep. Might as well start his day.

“I hope you realise that this cannot continue,” he says conversationally, stepping into his slippers. No point of pulling the sheets up; he’s going to throw them all in the wash as soon as Ren leaves anyway. “This double life of yours, I mean—it’s too much of a risk to allow.”

“It’s not a double life,” Ren grumbles, trying to shake the wrinkles out of his shirt. The spiteful part of Hux hopes that Ren won’t have time to change out of the mussed state Hux put him in before his plans.

“Well, what would you call it?” Hux asks, raising a brow. “Polished, charming Organa-Solo heir on one side, Snoke’s brooding enforcer on the other? Unless I’m wrong and you’re mixing business and pleasure, in which case Ben’s dry cleaner had better be very discreet.”

“I’m not—” Ren cuts himself off with a huff, his unbuttoned shirt hanging off his shoulders. His glare isn’t quite effective with the entire bed between them. “Look, Snoke knows. Okay? He encourages me to keep Ben Organa-Solo alive—to have past connections we can use. I’m doing his bidding.”

“Sunshine—or whatever her name is—she’s one of your honeypot assignments, then?”

Ren runs his teeth over his bottom lip. “I didn’t say that.”

The space behind Hux’s eyes is throbbing, the beginnings of a headache making itself known. Kriffing Ren and his kriffing inability to say one thing straight.

His robe hangs off the hook behind the door—a strategic mistake. “What, then?” Hux asks as he strides over to it, the luxurious fabric his lifeline to feeling a little more put-together. A little more like himself. “Care to explain how she fits into the picture?”

“None of your fucking business,” Ren mutters—suspiciously like around something. Hux is unsurprised to turn and find one of those death-sticks between Ren’s lips and a lighter in his hand, though annoyance is another matter entirely. “I’m doing my damn job; what more do you care?”

Hux fishes out an ashtray from his vanity with a pointed sigh, throwing it vaguely Ren’s way on the bed. Ren picks it up before dropping himself on the edge of the mattress, balancing the ashtray on a thick thigh.

“You wouldn’t be so cagey if you were only following orders,” Hux points out, ignoring the light tickle at the back of his throat. If Ren drops a smatter of ash on his carpets, there will be hell to pay. “What is it? Does she know something she shouldn’t?” Hux can make it go away, if she does.

“No, of course not. She knows nothing.”

Right. Very convincing.

Crossing his arms over his chest, “Is that so?” Hux asks, leaning a hip against the vanity. Ren barely glances at him before turning to the closed window, blowing the smoke out of a corner of his mouth. “Say, Ren, what does she think that you’re doing for a living? Snoke’s bodyguard works only so well when the man is bedbound. How do you explain your long trips abroad? Or the nights you return smelling of sex?”

Ren releases a long breath, loud in the otherwise quiet room. He ashes his cigarra and takes another drag, cool as you please, while irritation crawls underneath Hux’s skin.

It’s like Hux isn’t even kriffing there.

An odd desperation tugging at his chest, “Or maybe she already knows that you’re fucking someone on the side,” Hux throws, spitefully hoping for it to land.

Ren’s jaw works, his lips pressing into a line.

There.

It’s all of ten steps from his spot to Ren’s. “You’re loyal as a dog; I don’t imagine I’m your dirty secret,” Hux adds as he takes them slowly, satisfaction buzzing through him. Ren’s shoulders grow more rigid with each word, the ashtray moving as his legs tense. “Maybe it’s a thingbetween you two. Is that why you never shower here—because she likes smelling another man on you, feeling how open you still are from—”

“Rey’s my cousin, you jackass,” Ren snarls, a vein pulsing on his forehead. A knot unravels in Hux’s stomach. “What the fuck is it to you anyway? I know you don’t get lonely without me.”

The anger Hux was aiming for—the unmissable undercurrent of hurtin Ren’s tone gives him a pause. Hux hasn’t taken a lover since he and Ren started their… arrangement. He could have—and perhaps should have, instead of relying on his hand alone to get him through Ren’s weeks-long disappearances—but he didn’t even want to.

It worries him, sometimes.

“It’s a matter of security,” Hux says, waving it off. “Secrets have a way of leaking during pillow talk, you know that better than anyone.”

Ren laughs, bitter and hollow. Something in Hux twists at the sound. “Security,” Ren spits out, putting out the cigarra like it offended him personally. “Do you wanna do background checks on everybody I slept with while I was gone, then?”

Sharp hurt jolts through Hux.

Ren is staring at him with an intensity that borders on uncomfortable, waiting. Hux unclenches his jaw, breathing through his nose. “You’re an old hand at this; I’ll trust your judgment,” he responds, turning away. What is he doing, reacting to Ren? What the hell is wrong with him?

Ren grabs him by the wrist, jerking him to a stop.

Irritation rises in Hux again. “Ren,” he bites out in warning.

“No really, I think you should,” Ren says, a dark look shining in his eyes. “I don’t remember every name, but I can give you some other details. I’m sure your network of stalkers—sorry, slicers can find out enough.”

“My slicers have more important intel to chase after,” Hux bites out, looking pointedly at Ren’s hand around his wrist. The grip is loose enough that he might break himself free, but suffering the indignity of struggling doesn’t quite appeal to him. Once was enough. “Will you let me go?”

“Only if you admit it.”

Hux scoffs. “Admit what, exactly?”

“Admit that you’re jealous.” Hux goes ice-cold all over. “You hated thinking about me with Rey, didn’t you?”

Of course not. What a ridiculous claim. Hux holds a certain dislike for missing out on critical intel—understandable given his line of work—and finding out that he’s been left entirely in the dark about Ren, Snoke’s other right-hand man and the only person Hux remotely trusts in the First Order, was a bit of a hit. That’s all there is to it. He’s got no reason to be jealous of some girl who calls Ren by his given name, who can laugh and joke with Ren, be seen in public with Ren, who can loop an arm around Ren as they leave—

The dismissal gets stuck in his throat.

“Because I hated it,” Ren murmurs, looking into his eyes. Hux wants with his whole being to escape the depth of feeling in Ren’s earnest gaze—can’t look away. “Thinking about others warming your bed while I was fucked off on some bullshit mission that barely needed me—it killed me, Hux. Tell me you hated it, too. Tell me you want me to be only yours.”

Only Hux’s. As if Ren, with his constant need for attention and validation, wouldn’t chafe under Hux’s negligence.

Hux shakes his head, wishing he could shake off this spell just as easily. Ren must be similarly addled if he’s talking of fancies of flight like exclusivity. “You don’t know what you’re saying. This isn’t what we agreed on, Ren.”

The light in Ren’s eyes dims. Hux hates himself.

“You’re right,” Ren says, his tone just above a whisper. A glance downwards—he starts buttoning up his shirt like he’s being timed on it, only barely getting the order right. “Sorry I ruined it, I thought—never mind what I thought, I’ll just see myself out. You won’t see me again unless Snoke summons both of us, promise.”

Ren rushes past Hux and out of the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind himself. It hits Hux in the next moment that perhaps he should’ve stopped Ren.

Stars, what a kriffing mess. Hux intended only to stop Ren from jumping off a cliff in the hopes that Hux would follow, not to end what they had. Leave it to Ren to take it as an absolute rejection.

He takes a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. All right. All right. First step: He can’t let Ren storm off. Ren will be damn near impossible to get a hold of if he leaves like this; Hux’s network truly has more important matters to take care of. Hux needs to make him stay long enough to listen.

As for what Hux will say to fix this, well. He supposes he can tell Ren what Ren wants to hear. He can set his pride aside for a moment. It should be good, shouldn’t it? It should be enough.

It had better be enough.

Inside, Ren is nowhere to be found, his jacket and trainers gone. Hux hasn’t heard the Silencer’s roar, though. Hoping he’s not too late, he grabs his keys off the hook and dashes down the front stairs, catching up with Ren just as Ren reaches his bike.

“Ren,” he says, embarrassingly breathless.

Ren turns to him with wariness etched on his guarded face. He’s waiting for beratement, Hux suspects, or the tongue-lashing that Hux is famous for.

“I was lonely without you,” Hux confesses in a rush, words tumbling out of his mouth in his haste to get them out before they clog up his throat. “When you were away, I—I missed you. I did.” Do whatever you want with it.

A series of emotions cross Ren’s face, too fast to parse. A part of Hux—a part that will always remain Armitage no matter how hard Hux tries to purge it—wants to curl into a ball and hide from the moment Ren will laugh in his face for falling for such a blatant prank.

“Hux,” Ren breathes, breaking into a wide grin. It’s the goofiest, stupidest expression Hux has ever seen on his face—and entirely devoid of any mockery. “You missed me?”

“I won’t repeat it,” Hux says, ignoring the growing heat of his cheeks. Least of all in the middle of the street, where all his neighbours would overhear them if it weren’t shit-early on a Sunday—wearing nothing but his robe and slippers.

Stars. What a disgrace.

Ren’s phone buzzes loudly in his pocket. He fishes it out only far enough to silence it, letting it go to voicemail. “I really have to go,” he says with a touch of regret in his tone, running the backs of his fingers down Hux’s cheek. “But I’ll come back right after, okay? I’ll come back to you.”

Such coddling. Hux wants to roll his eyes, but the look on Ren’s face, the same one as when he said tell me you want me to be only yours, stops him.

“You had better,” he mutters instead. It’s a new sort of thrill, getting a genuine grin out of Ren.

Cupping Hux’s face, Ren presses a hard kiss on his lips before getting on his bike. Hux watches him leave with an inexplicably heavy heart.

He misses Ren already.

[criminalmindzjunkie]

The Reward of Suffering

next chapter

Summary: A retelling of the events of season 12 episode 13. 

Gif credit to the wonderful and talented @imagining-in-the-margins​

A/N: After several months of contemplation, I have finally decided to post part one of my first ever fic on Tumblr! This fic will follow the event of Spencer’s prison arc, so needless to say there will be SPOILERS. This first part is super long, but I felt that it needed to be in order to set up the plot. I hope you all enjoy reading! If you would like to be tagged on future updates, let me know!

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem! Reader

Warnings: no smut (yet), mentions of past frug use, cursing, typical CM case talk

Word count: 12.1k

           “Reid is in jail.”

           I felt the color immediately drain from my face and an intense feeling of dread began to wash through my body. I sat up in my chair, back ramrod straight. I briefly looked towards the faces of my teammates, Luke and JJ to my left and Penelope to my right. Their faces were all contorted, displaying varying degrees of shock and confusion. It was hard for any of us to process what we were hearing. The idea of Spencer Reid, the same Spencer who wore a mask to the office on Halloween and put on elaborate magic shows for everyone’s children, doing anything that would warrant being put behind bars was preposterous.

           Surely, this is all just a big misunderstanding.

           “Jail?” Penelope squeaked out. My eyes flitted to her, taking note of the way her eyebrows were drawn together in disbelief. She was thinking the same thing I’m sure we all were; that there was no way Spencer Reid had engaged in any illegal activity. Spencer was a well-educated, highly regarded FBI agent, for Christ sake. He knew the laws of the land better than any of us.

           “In Mexico.”

My attention focused solely on Emily. In the few weeks since I had come to know her, I had begun to look at her not only as a sort of fearless leader, but also as a kind of fiercely loyal friend that I was incredibly lucky to have. Emily somehow managed to find the perfect balance between being accommodating and stern. She was the kind of boss you could have a drink and cut up with after a long day, but she also carried herself in a way that demanded the utmost respect in the workplace. Emily Prentiss’s bravery was unmatched, and I admired her for that.

It shook me to my core when her eyes met mine and I saw the pure, unbridled fear in them. If Emily was scared, then this must be leagues worse than we could have ever imagined.

“What the hell is he doing down there?” JJ asked, crossing her arms and shuffling from one foot to the other.

“I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him. The call came in to Cruz from their lead investigator.”

Luke was the next to chime in. “What’s he being held for?”

“Drug possession,” Rossi said, before taking on, “with intent to distribute.”

For the second time that day, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Images of Spencer sitting across from me in a dimly lit coffee shop, tripping over his words as he confided in me, spilling his deepest and darkest secrets in a voice barely above a whisper. His voice had grown stronger as he neared the end of his story and he had dug deep in his satchel, producing a small golden coin. We both had tears in our eyes as we looked at the writing engraved into the coin; unity, service recovery. Spencer Reid was ten years sober, and the pride on his face was as clear as day.

There was no way he would throw all of that away.

“What type of drugs?”

“Cocaine and heroin,” Rossi said, his voice shaky.

Rossi and Spencer had always had a good relationship. Spencer had admired his work long before he met him, having read and reread every book he had ever published. It had delighted Spencer that he and Rossi had managed to develop rapport so quickly. Rossi was the only one talented enough at the game of chess to even think of giving Spencer a run for his money, though many of us had tried. In one of many hushed conversations shared on the jet, he had once told me that he had begun to think of Rossi as somewhat of a father figure; he didn’t quite fill the role in the same way Gideon had, but Spencer was thankful just the same. One look at Rossi’s troubled expression was enough to tell me that the feelings were definitely mutual.

“Oh my God. This can’t be happening.” JJ was positively crestfallen, clutching a hand against her own chest in an attempt to ground herself. Her other hand came up to her face as she absentmindedly pushed her hair away.

“We need Lewis and Walker here, ASAP,” Emily directed her order and Penelope, who was quick to comply.

Everyone sprang into action, but I found myself unable to move, weighed down by the deeply unsettling circumstance. It felt as if I was no longer in my own body, like I was watching everything unfold from an outsider’s perspective. Maybe I am, I thought. Maybe this is all just some horrible nightmare. Any second now, my alarm will go off and this will all be over.

I waited and waited for my alarm to sound, but that never happened. Instead, Emily crouched down in front of me, grasping my arm firmly in her right hand.

“I know how devastated you must be. Trust me, I do,” she sympathized, her deep brown eyes boring into my own. “But Reid’s going to need you now more than ever. You’re his best friend and you know him better than anyone. Did he ever mention to you that he was going to Mexico?”

I shook my head numbly, my motions feeling alien and stilted.

“Never. He told me the same thing he told you; that he was going to Houston for a few days to meet with his mother’s doctor,” I whispered. I feared that if I raised my voice any higher, tears would begin to fall. Maintaining my composure was becoming harder with every passing second, and I wasn’t exactly privy to breaking down in front of my boss. “I guess I don’t know him as well as I thought.”

Emily sighed, letting go of my arm before straightening up.

“Apparently, none of us did. But I know damn well that this has to be a mistake. We’ll get him out of this.”

           The apprehension in her voice told me that even she wasn’t sure we could pull this one off.

--

           “This has got to be Scratch,” Tara stated, her voice wafting through the speakers of Luke’s laptop. Emily, Rossi, Luke and I were currently in the jet, on our way to the jail where Spencer was being held. All of us were huddled close together around the computer, listening on with eager ears. “He was laying low, and now we know why.”

           “Crossing the border as a fugitive is a huge risk,” Luke pointed out.

           “The reward is even greater. He’s been punishing the team, and now his target is Reid.” Emily’s voice was full of frustration and contempt.

           “Peter Lewis dropped off the map after attacking Tara’s family,” Stephen chimed in. Not even his deep baritone voice could do anything to calm my frazzled nerves. “Maybe he’s been hiding in Mexico this whole time.”

           “We also have to consider that it isn’t related to him,” I murmured. Several pairs of eyes locked on me, shocked. I had been uncharacteristically quiet since this whole ordeal began, limiting my responses to one word replies and hums of acknowledgement. On a normal day, I’d be throwing in my two cents any time I saw fit. Today, I was struggling just to keep breathing.

           “Who else would it be?” Rossi asked.

           “Drug cartels. Could’ve threatened Reid and used him as a mule.” Saying his name was painful, because it reminded me that we weren’t just talking about a victim with whom we had no personal ties; we were talking about our colleague and beloved friend.

           “Agreed,” Rossi nodded. “This could simply be a case of bad luck. Reid was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

           “Spencer’s mom is okay.” JJ’s announcement was like music to my ears. I let out an audible sigh of relief. “The home nurse he hired said all is stable.”

           “How long did he tell the nurse he’d be gone?”

           “Three days.”

           “That sounds reasonable. After the Palm Springs case, Reid said he had to get back to Houston to talk to his mom’s doctor,” Emily interjected. I nodded along in agreement. He’d told me the same thing when I talked to him the night before last.

The fatigue in his voice had alerted me to the fact that things hadn’t been going so well with his mother. Her condition had been rapidly deteriorating in the recent months, prompting Spencer to make the tough decision to remove her from the assisted living facility she was at and into his own apartment. His main argument had been that no one could possibly take better care of his mother that him; that he was familiar with her condition and how best to respond when she had an episode. When I had asked him how he was handling it all, he was quick to reassure me that it was not anything he couldn’t handle.

Spencer’s loyalty ran deep; so deep that I knew he would do anything in his power to take care of Diana, but I’d never imagined that it would land him in fucking jail.

“Well, Houston is only a five-hour drive from the border,” Tara mused. “The question is, why did he go down there?”

“And why does he have narcotics?” Rossi was the first to speak on what was at the forefront of everyone’s mind.

“Yeah, exactly. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t do that. Those drugs were planted on him,” Penelope insisted.

“Absolutely, but there’s something bigger in play. That’s why he crossed the border and kept it a secret. There’s something he didn’t want to share with any of you.”

I cringed at Stephen’s choice of wording. Spencer and I were as close as two people could be, and there was nothing I withheld from him. He knew everything about me, every dark and embarrassing thought that had ever crossed my mind; yet, he accepted me just the same. I had always assumed that it went both ways, that he was just as honest and forthcoming with me as I was with him. It hurt to know that there were things he kept from me, secrets that he felt he couldn’t trust me with.

But most of all, it absolutely gutted me to think that he was dealing with something so horrible that it landed him in jail, and he that he had to do it all alone.

“Okay, so what would make him risk everything?” Emily pondered aloud.

“His mom.” My answer was instantaneous.

A ping sounded from the other end of the video call, and we all leaning in, our interest piqued.

“Cruz just sent me the arresting report,” Penelope announced, clicking away at her computer before continuing. “It says here that Reid was involved in a high-speed chase.”

“What?” I choked out, my voice coming out several pitches higher than usual. “Spencer hardly ever drives.” I could feel my stomach begin to churn, bile threatening to force its way up my esophagus. This isn’t right, I wanted to scream. Our Spencer would never get himself involved in something that would put himself or others at risk.

“None of this sounds like him,” Penelope whispered, her thoughts mimicking my own. “It says he was wearing jeans and a baseball cap and that he was really confused. According to the arresting officer, he was really high on something.”

Unity, service, respect; ten years sober. All down the fucking drain.

I shot up from my seat, bolting down the walkway and into the bathroom. I immediately fell to my knees, barely managing to push my hair out of the way before retching into the toilet bowl. I continued like this for several minutes, only pausing momentarily when I felt large, soothing hands running up and down my back. Soft murmurings of reassurance alerted me to the fact that it was Luke who was sitting with me. I let out a strained ‘thank you’ before another wave of nausea hit me, rendering me speechless. Luke held my hair back, never once leaving my side.

When I had thrown up the entirety of my breakfast and all I could do was dry heave, I slumped back against the wall, relishing in how cool it felt against my flushed skin. A stretch of silence passed before he decided to break it.

“That was an extreme reaction,” Luke pointed out, still sitting in the floor with his legs crisscrossed. I noticed how closely he was watching me, his eyes focused on reading my expressions. He was profiling me, that much was obvious. It was an unspoken rule between us all that we would never profile one another, but any fight I had left in me had long since dissipated.

“He worked so hard to get clean, Luke. I wasn’t around when it happened, but he told me about it. He was so proud of himself,” I whispered. My throat was now raw and my voice came out more than a little bit hoarse.

Luke’s eyebrows came together, confusion clear on his face.

“Get clean? What are you talking about?”

I let out a shuddery breath. It felt wrong to divulge information on Spencer’s personal life; like I was betraying his trust. Given the circumstance, I supposed he wouldn’t mind, but it still felt treacherous and left a bad taste in my mouth. Sorry, Spence.

“Ten years ago, Reid was kidnapped by an unsub with DID. He kept him in a remote cabin for several days, alternating between beating him senseless and shooting him full of so much hydromorphone that he couldn’t remember his own name. At one point, he even,” I trailed off, hot tears spilling out of my eyes and running down my cheeks. Luke took my hand in his in an act of reassurance, his way of telling me not to rush. Luke hadn’t been with us for long, and our interactions thus far hadn’t gone much farther than conversations about work. Seeing the way he was offering himself up to me as a confidant and shoulder to cry on made me feel guilty for ever having written him off.

Thank God for Luke Alvez.

After a long pause, I managed to continue. “Spencer ended up having a seizure and he died for several minutes. The unsub’s more benevolent personality, Tobias, was able to resuscitate him. Eventually Spencer was able to take him down, but the trauma mixed with the exposure to such a highly addictive drug led to him developing a dependence on it.”

Luke swore and ran a hand through his hair.

“I never would’ve guessed it. The kid carries himself so well.”

A small, fond smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

“He’s amazing, really. He detoxed all by himself and started going to NA meetings. This past October marked ten years. We celebrated by going to one of those really fancy museums he likes and he insisted on taking the guided tour so that he could see how many errors the guide would make,” I let out a light laugh at the memory. “Every time they’d get something wrong, he’d lean down whisper the correct information so that only I could hear it. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that happy,” I reminisced, allowing myself to forget about the current situation for the tiniest of moments. I wondered if I’d ever get to experience a day like that with Spencer ever again.

“You two are close, I take it?”

I nodded. Luke had fit in with the group so seamlessly that I had forgotten that he had only been with us for a short time. He didn’t really know the dynamics of everything yet.

“He’s my best friend.”

Luke hummed, and I could feel his eyes looking at me inquisitively.

“And that boyfriend of yours, he doesn’t mind?” Okay, maybe Luke was a little bit more perceptive than he let on.

Gavin and I had begun dating at the end of my first year with the BAU. He and I had meet in the most cliché of ways; bumping into each other in the cereal aisle at the grocery store. Gavin was more than a little bit handsome, but what had reeled me in had been the way he taken one look at the box of cereal in my cart and immediately scrunched his nose up in disgust.

“Plain Cheerios? Are you some sort of masochist, or something?” he had asked, a playful lilt to his voice. Normally, if a strange man had approached me in public, I would’ve been quick to express my disinterest. If my job had taught me anything, it was that a woman being approached by a strange man was a recipe for trouble. But something about him seemed wholly unthreatening, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his forwardness, raising an eyebrow at him.

“As if your choice is any better. Lucky Charms? What are you, six?”

“Don’t even go there. Lucky Charms are magically delicious, thank you very much,” he sniffed, feigning superiority. “And if we’re touching on the subject of age, the only person I know that eats plain Cheerios is my eighty-six-year-old grandmother. You look a bit young to be worrying about heart health, and I refuse to believe that you actually enjoy the taste, so what gives?”

“First of all, I find it concerning that you are so familiar with cereal slogans,” I breezed, leaning against my shopping cart. “Second, I am curious; do you make it a habit to harass people about their cereal preferences?”

“Only if they’re cute.”

And that had been that. Several dates later he had asked me to be his girlfriend over a dinner he had attempted to make himself. I said yes and he kissed me, nearly knocking over his plate of burnt chicken parmesan in the process.

“We, uh, have an understanding. He knows that Spencer and I are just good friends.”

Gavin and I did have an understanding, but it wasn’t a very solid one. In fact, I was sure that he damn near despised Spencer’s very existence. He had done a good job at hiding it for a while, but after coming home one night from an impromptu movie night with Spencer, he had revealed to me that he had a jealous streak a mile long. I reassured him that there was absolutely nothing that he needed to worry about, but I could tell he didn’t believe a word of it. Gavin had out flat demanded that I cut all ties with Spencer, and I had laughed in his face.

“I’m not the kind of girl that likes to be told what to do. Either you learn to live with him being a part of my life, or you can find someone else to boss around, because I can tell you right now, that won’t fly with me.”

My threat had proven to be effective, and he had apologized, and that had been the end of that. He still wasn’t fond of the idea that Spencer and I were such close friends, but he hadn’t tried to proposition me with any more ridiculous ultimatums.

“That’s good to hear,” Luke hummed, squeezing my hand before rising to his feet. I could tell that he didn’t necessarily buy into what I was saying, but I was thankful that he didn’t press it any further. “What do you say we go back out there. We’ve got to be getting close by now.”

I nodded and he helped me to my feet. I bent down to the faucet, swishing some water in my mouth before spitting it out.

When Luke and I returned to our seats, I was immediately aware of the way Rossi and Emily were eyeing me; like I was a delicate thing that needed to be handled with kid gloves.

I absolutely hated it.

“Sorry about that. It won’t happen again,” I said, before turning my attention back to the video call and saying, “so, what did we miss?”

--

The police station was surprisingly small. The hallways were narrow and the light bulbs above me gave off an almost green tint, casting an eerie glow on the place. The sounds of disgruntled detainees calling out drifted through the hallways, sounding akin to the moaning of a ghost. My eyes darted around constantly as we walked, the uneasy feeling in my stomach growing with every step we took towards the heart of the precinct.

“Thank you for calling us.” Emily’s words were directed at the police officer, Chief Castenada, who was leading us down the hall. He was a short man with graying hair and a seemingly permanent frown etched into his face. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that he wasn’t happy that four federal agents were in his jail.

“A U.S. fed in our custody isn’t something we see every day,” the man said, his tone entirely unfriendly. I grimaced.

“Have you gotten any of his tox screen panels back yet?” I prodded, quickening the pace of my strides until I was walking alongside him. He looked down at me like I was a pesky gnat that he wanted to bat away.

“No.”

Color me unsurprised.

“You’ll need to expedite that. We have cause to believe that Doctor Reid was drugged.”

“He was definitely high and driving like a bat out of Hell. Not to mention he had $20,000 worth of heroin in his possession,” he sneered, ceasing to walk and staring down at me with distaste. “Both of which put my officers at risk. You’re in our jurisdiction. Don’t forget that. The rules are different here.”

I opened my mouth, ready to fire back with some smart-assery of my own, but a hand at my elbow stopped me. I turned and saw that it was Luke, who nodded his head to the left of us. I looked in the direction he was referring to, and I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.

Just up ahead was a holding cell with several poorly constructed benches in the center of it. On the very first row of seats sat Spencer, who had seemingly retreated in to himself. He was hunched over, his arms wrapped pitifully around himself, much like you’d imagine a child might do to keep warm. Spencer’s clothes were tattered and dirty and a bandage adorned his right hand. His usually beautiful chestnut curls were flying around his head in a mess of tangles and dirt. Despite the fact that Spencer towered over most of us, I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly small he looked.

Even as awful as he looked in his current state, a direct contradiction of the way he usually presented himself, I’d never been happier to lay my eyes on someone in my life.

My feet carried me forward before my brain had time to catch up. I closed the distance between me and the cell, pausing and taking a good, long look at him before allowing myself to speak. He hadn’t noticed me standing there yet. His gaze was instead trained on something at the other end of the room, his eyes red rimmed and glassy and his face completely slack.

“Spence?” I called out, the nickname falling from my lips like a prayer. In a way I suppose it was; a prayer that he was alright, that the horrible things Penelope had told us about were nothing but a horrible lie. At first, I was worried that he hadn’t heard me or that he was too out of his mind to even register the sound of my voice. Just when I opened my mouth to speak again, he turned his head in way that I would have described as comically slow if the situation hadn’t been so serious. The spacey look in his eyes told me that my prayers wouldn’t be answered.

Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, but his face remained completely blank, devoid of all expression. I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, until it hit me like a ton of bricks; he had no clue who I was.

I wanted to be mad. I wanted to scream at him, to ask him how could he forget me, of all people. My anger was irrational and unfair, but I couldn’t help it. While I understood that it was no fault of his own, that the drugs coursing through his veins were to blame, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I swallowed down the emotions that threatened to spill out, pushing them down into the depths of my being. I couldn’t let my emotional attachment hinder my judgment. I needed to be as vigilant as ever, no, more vigilant. The fate of my favorite person in the whole world depended on it.

“It’s me, Y/N,” I explained, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage. “It’s good to see you, Spencer. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

He watched me for a moment before standing and making his way to where I was leaning against the bars.

“Y/N,” Spencer murmured when he reached me, as if testing my name out to see how it rolled off of his tongue. His stare was still vacant, but having him in front of me after worrying about his wellbeing for the last five hours was more than enough for now. I’d take him however I could have him. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, we came,” I murmured, my eyes raking over every inch of his body for any signs of distress. Other than the bandage on his hand, he seemed to be in one piece.

Rossi was quick to join me, coming to a stop at my left.

“We’re going to get you out of here, kid,” he reassured, his tone more serious than I’d ever heard it.

           “We need to work out some details with the locals, okay?” Emily said, waiting for a response but getting none.

           “Who was your contact down here?” Luke asked.

           Spencer was quicker to respond this time.

           “Rosa,” he mumbled as he grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled it up. On his inner arm, the name Rosa Medina was written in what was undoubtably his own handwriting. Spencer was notorious around the office for having the worst handwriting. I like to blame it on the fact that he was a doctor, which always elicited a laugh from him. “I think she’s a doctor.”

           Luke pulled his phone out from his pocket, snapping a picture of the name.

           “Where did you meet her?”

           Spencer shook his head and a frown pulled down at the corner of his lips.

           “I… I don’t remember.”

           “If you saw her, would you remember her?”

           Spencer nodded in affirmation.

           “You’re missing time, aren’t you?” I asked, causing him to look at me once more. His brows furrowed together and he was nodding again, slightly surer of himself this time.

           “It’s peeking out. It’s coming in flashes.”

           “And you’ve been drugged?”

           I didn’t know it was possible for his face to fall any more, but the look of shame that manifested itself when he registered my words was absolutely heartbreaking.

           “Yeah, but I didn’t take it myself,” he insisted, a spark of life burning bright in the depths of his eyes. Somewhere in there, under the haze of narcotics, was the same Spencer that had fought tooth and nail for his sobriety all those years ago. My heart broke for him.

           “Of course, you didn’t, Spence. We know that,” I said, almost reaching out to touch him before thinking better of it. “We’re thinking it might be Scratch.”

           Just like before, when I had first spoken to him, absolutely no sign of recognition showed itself on his face.

           “Scratch,” he muttered detachedly, much the same as before.

           Luke’s phone rang then and he excused himself for a moment before stepping away. I looked to Rossi and Emily, who seemed to also be at a loss for words. The silence that filled the room was excruciating, and I once again started to feel like the walls were closing in on me. I wanted nothing more than to scream, to cry out in frustration. The whole situation was unfair in a way that I didn’t think was possible. I was a big believer in karma; put good in and get good out, or something like that. But now, standing outside of a holding cell that looked more like a dungeon than anything, I was ready to throw away that belief entirely.

Of all the people that I know, Spencer was the least deserving of something like this.

           Just when I began to consider ducking outside for a breath of fresh air, Luke returned.

           “Hey, the team sent this. Is this the doctor you met?” he asked, pointing to a picture of a woman he had pulled up on his phone. The woman was of Mexican descent, with short, choppy gray hair. She appeared to be middle aged, from what I could guess.

           Spencer stared at the picture before nodding.

           “Her alias is Rosa Medina and her real name is Nadi Ramos. Garcia tracked her to a motel just outside of town. Does that sound familiar?”

           Spencer’s brows furrowed and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

           “No.”

           “Okay, we’ll need to take Castenada and his officers with us,” Emily announced, before turning and heading towards the door.

           “Do you want company here?” Rossi asked.

           Spencer seemed to take a moment to process before answering with an almost imperceptible nod. He turned his head and focused his gaze on me.

           “Can… Can you stay?”

           Rossi turned to face me too, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘are you okay with this?’ I gave him what I hoped was a convincing smile. Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure that I could handle this; the this that I am referring to being a nearly catatonic Spencer Reid. I was used to the Spencer who regaled me with interesting tidbits of information whenever there was a lull in conversation. The Spencer that stood before me now was a shell of his former self, and that terrified me.

           “I’ll be fine here. Let me know if you guys find anything,” I told Rossi. He nodded once to me before enveloping me in a tight hug.

           “Resta forte mia piccolo colomba,” Rossi murmured in my ear. I hadn’t a clue what the phrase meant, but the words draped over me like a warm blanket. Suddenly the weight of the current situation didn’t seem so heavy, and I felt immensely thankful that a man like David Rossi was in my life.

           Rossi pressed his lips to the top of my head before releasing me. He gave one last, despairing look to Spencer before hurrying off after Luke and Emily. It could’ve been the light playing tricks on me, or maybe the exhaustion, but when Rossi turned away from us, I swear I saw tears welling in his eyes.

           And then there were two.

           I took glance at my watch for the first time all day, cringing when I saw the time to be 8:17PM. Quantico was an hour ahead, meaning Gavin was probably losing his shit wondering where I was. I sighed, fishing my phone out of my back pocket and turning it on.

           “Spence, I’m going to make a phone call really quick,” I murmured. He offered no reply, just as I had come to expect. He was watching me, standing stock still in the same place he had been the entire time. I moved to stand in the doorway, hopefully far enough away that he couldn’t hear me anymore.

           As soon as my phone booted up, a plethora of notifications came through. Seventeen missed calls and twenty-four unread text messages, to be exact. I decided to forgo reading the messages, instead pressing the return call button and tapping my foot anxiously against the floor. Gavin didn’t keep me waiting long, picking up on the very first ring.

           “About time you answer your goddamn phone,” he hissed out. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? I even called your office phone and no one would answer that, either. What the fuck is going on? Where are you?”

           “I’m… In Mexico.”

           A long pause followed and I held my breath, waiting for the onslaught to begin.

           “You left the country without even bothering to tell me?” Gavin asked, his voice raising in volume. I could picture him now; probably sitting on our sofa, fists balled together and jaw clenched. “Would you like to enlighten me as to why you’re in Mexico?”

           I closed my eyes, frustration bubbling deep inside me. Today was arguably the shittiest day of my entire life, and I certainly didn’t need Gavin harping on about how I hadn’t been in touch. Honestly, informing him of my whereabouts had been the furthest thing from my mind.

           “It’s Spencer,” I began, trying to think of the proper way to word it all. “He got into some… trouble. We think he’s being framed by Scratch.”

           “Isn’t that the guy that just went after Tara’s family?”

           “Yeah, it is. He’s been laying low for the past few months, and I guess he was just building up to all of this. It’s really bad, Gav,” I whispered the last bit, hoping that Spencer couldn’t hear me. If he did, he made no move that indicated it. “He’s high out of his mind and can’t remember anything.”

           “How long will you guys be there?” Gavin asked, completely ignoring the fact that I mentioned Spencer at all. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from saying something I might regret. I understand that he doesn’t like the guy, but he could show some common decency and at least pretend.

           “I’m not entirely sure. Rossi, Emily, and Luke just headed out to go check on a lead. I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

           “Wait, so, where are you?”

           “I’m at the jail with Spencer, why?” I inquired, running my hand through my hair and absentmindedly combing out the knots that had formed. I was sure that I looked a right mess, but I couldn’t be too bothered to care.

           “Let me get this straight. They left you alone with a guy who is wasted on God knows what, not knowing how he’ll react to it?” A bitter laugh flowed through the phone speaker. “Sounds like you don’t exactly work with the smartest bunch. What if he tries to attack you or something?”

           I let his words hang in the air for a moment, unable to formulate a reply that wasn’t something like you’re being an absolute fucking dick bag right now. No, I was a grown woman and I was going to communicate like one, despite the fact that his ignorant reply was making me shake with rage.

           “The first thing I’m going to address is the fact that this is not some guy. We’re talking about my best friend and teammate, and his name is Spencer. Use it,” I said through gritted teeth. “The second thing is that he’s not some wild animal. He’s not going to try to come through the bars and pounce on me. What he’s going through right now is traumatic, and he doesn’t need to be left alone right now. Show some compassion.”

           “Yeah, okay, I’m sorry,” Gavin muttered. It was the most unapologetic apology I’d ever heard in my life, prompting me to roll my eyes. I don’t understand how I can love someone and want to throttle them simultaneously. “I’m just worried about you, is all. How are you holding up?”

           “I’m as good as can be expected,” I sighed, bringing my free hand up to rub at my eyes. “I’m just tired of watching this guy terrorize all of my friends. First, he takes Hotch from us, then he nearly kills Tara’s brother, and now this. I’m beginning to think we’ll never catch a break.”

           “I know you’re tired, baby. Just try to hang on a little bit longer. As much as I question some of their decisions, your team is good at what they do. You guys will catch him. I have faith in you.”

           There it is. That’s the Gavin that I fell in love with.

           “Thank you,” I murmured. “It’s been a long day and I needed to hear that.” I cast a glance back at Spencer, who was now staring down at his bandaged hand, an indiscernible expression on his face. He looked so lost, standing all alone in the grimy holding cell. The lights cast shadows on his face, making his already angular face look gaunt. The Spencer I knew was the human embodiment of light; filling up every room he was in with his delightfully idiosyncratic presence. The Spencer in the cell was so shrouded in darkness that the room seemed to be swallowing him whole, taking his brilliance and crushing it into smithereens.

“Gav, I think I need to get back in there.”

           “Yeah, alright. Just keep me in the loop this time, please. I don’t like not knowing where my girlfriend is.”

           “I’ll make sure to check in whenever I can,” I promised, before tacking on a, “love you.”

           “Love you, too.”

           I pocketed my phone with hands that shook, no longer from rage but from apprehension. I liked to think that I was good at my job. I had done well at the academy; not well enough to have graduated at the top of my class, but I did manage to be in the top ten. After lucking into the job of a lifetime, I had fully committed myself to learning to be the best profiler I could possibly be. Two years of piecing together the innerworkings of criminal minds had taught me more than I ever could have imagined about the human psyche. I had talked many a deranged psychopath down from the ledge, and I had saved more than a few lives along the way. Unfortunately, not all cases can end favorably. Those are the ones that taught me the most.

           For all that I learned, nothing could’ve prepared me to deal with the shell of a man that stood before me.

           I was standing in front of him now, fiddling nervously with my hands. When Spencer had originally told me about his battle with addiction, I had taken it upon myself to do some research of my own. I wanted to be able to identify the signs, God forbid he ever relapse. While conducting my research, I had read somewhere that the best way to support someone during a come down is by remaining positive and creating a calm, safe environment.

           I was currently the antithesis of calm, but for Spencer’s sake, I was going to do my best.

           I took a step forward and offered him a small smile.

           “I’ve never seen you in jeans and boots before,” I said. I was proud of myself when the words came out sounding relatively casual. “It’s a good look on you, but I have to admit I prefer the academic look. I suppose it’s the sapiosexual in me.”

           He gave no response, but the tinniest tug at the corner of his mouth told me that he found my comment amusing.

           I let my eyes drag over him again and I fixated on the bandage on his right hand, frowning.

           “Do you remember what happened to your hand?”

           Spencer raised his hand up, absentmindedly flipping it over and inspecting it.

           “I don’t know,” he murmured. Spencer’s usually high pitched voice came out gravely, no doubt a byproduct of dehydration related to the drugs. My eyes skimmed across the holding cell and I frowned when I saw no water fountain in sight.

           “M’ gonna go get you some water, okay?” I turned away and pivoted on my heel, taking one step before a hand wrapped around my upper arm. I spun around so fast I nearly caught whiplash.

           Spencer’s eyes were wide and full of panic, conveying more emotion than he’d had since we’d arrived. His eyebrows were drawn together as well, contorting his face into a pitiful expression.

           “Don’t go,” he rasped, his hand still firmly grasping my arm. “Please.”

           The hopelessness in his voice was like a dagger through my heart. I nodded fervently and placed my hand over his, prompting him to loosen his grip. He did, and I took his hand in both of mine. I rubbed my thumbs over his skin, haphazardly tracing patterns in an attempt to calm him.

           “Yeah, okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” I soothed, bringing his hand up to my mouth and placing a chaste kiss to the skin. “I’ve got you, Spence. It’s all going to be okay.”

           The look of panic slowly washed away the longer we stood there. He held onto my hands like I was a lifeline, the only thing tethering him to the ground. While I longed for nothing more than to really embrace him, to pull all of him into my arms and hold on for dear life, the bars that separated us inhibited me from doing so. So instead I just relished in the feel of his hand intertwined with my own.

           It would have to be enough for now.

--

           Nadi Ramos was dead.

           I didn’t have to ask Emily to know that the situation had gone from bad to absolutely fucking terrible. We knew Scratch was a horrendous individual; that much had been proved by his preferred modus operandi. We also knew that he had become fixated on taking down each of us one by one. He’d tried twice with Hotch, even going as far as to target his son, resulting in the two of them joining WITSEC for their own safety. The next blow had come when he had set his sights on Tara, or, more specifically, her brother. We’d gotten lucky with that one, having located and freed her brother just in the nick of time. After the incident with Tara’s brother, we all expected the next attack to come in quick succession. When several months passed with no sign of Scratch, we all became terribly on edge. No one was saying it, but we all were waiting to see which one of us would be next, crossing our fingers and hoping it wouldn’t be us.

           I knew that none of us were exempt from Scratch’s wrath, but for some reason, I’d never imagined him targeting Spencer.

           And target him he fucking did.

           “We know you didn’t do this,” Emily spoke for the group, knowing good and well that we were all on the same page.

           “How did it happen?” Spencer’s back was to us. His shoulders were slumped and his face downturned.

           “She was stabbed multiple times. It looked personal,” Luke answered, his voice low and careful. It was obvious to us all that he was being extra careful with his wording, making sure to broach the subject carefully. We all knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Spencer was innocent; but that didn’t mean that Spencer did.

           Chief Castenada trudged into the holding cell, the portrait of all things cranky and unpleasant. His presence acted as a proverbial storm cloud on an already shitty day.

           “We got the results of your blood work. There’s cocaine and heroin in your system.”

           “What else?” Emily asked, causing Castenada to give her a confused look.

           “He was in possession of cocaine and heroin when he was arrested. I found what I needed.”

           I felt myself bristle and before I knew it, my mouth was open and I was spouting out pure venom.

           “Thanks so much for doing the bare minimum, but we’re going to need a full tox screen panel. We’re looking for scopolamine.”

           Emily’s eyes cut over to me and if I hadn’t been fighting on Spencer’s behalf, I would’ve withered under the weight of the shut the fuck up look she gave me. Instead, I continued on, silently praying I’d still have a job after today.

           “It’ll take longer, but we need it,” I explained in what I hoped was a slightly more accommodating tone. Castenada gave a curt nod in reply before exiting the room, grumbling something in Spanish that had Luke and Emily shooting daggers at his retreating figure.

           “Do I want to know?”

           Luke shook his head, shooting a small smile in my direction.

           “Let’s just say he’s not your biggest fan, and we’ll leave it at that,” he offered, before straightening out his expression and turning back to Spencer. “You were given a speed ball. The opiates block the dopamine in your brain. That’s why things go from clear to hazy. The combination of the drugs causes a dissociative state and explains the memory loss. Are you coming down now?”

           “I think so,” Spencer said. His cadence wasn’t as slow as it had been earlier, which was a relief.

           “Do you think you could do a cognitive interview?” Emily’s voice was hopeful, and if Spencer was one thing, it was a people pleaser. It was obvious that he was overwhelmed; I had taken note of the fact that he was displaying one of his nervous ticks. Spencer was touching the pad of his thumb on the tips of his other fingers in rapid succession. Despite his obvious discomfort, he nodded his head in agreeance.

           “I’ll try.”

           Rossi took the lull in conversation as an opportunity to hold up the plastic bag in his hand. I narrowed my eyes at it inquisitively. There were five vials of a murky, dark brown liquid in the bag.

           “There were five of these in your bag at the motel. Do you recognize them?”

           Spencer’s eyes zeroed in on the bag and its contents, his brows furrowing. It wasn’t long until a look of partial recognition flashed across his face. It was so faint that if he hadn’t been in a room of profilers, it would’ve gone unnoticed.

           “What is it?” I asked from my place at his side. He’d been somewhat clingy since the incident that had transpired while everyone was at the motel, gravitating towards me as soon as we all had been granted entrance to the holding cell. I knew that he needed familiarity right now; he was in a very vulnerable state and he needed something that made him feel safe and secure.

           Butterflies erupted in my stomach when I had realized what he was doing, that I was that thing that made him feel safe and secure.

Spencer opened his mouth once before closing it, as if trying to put his thoughts into words was difficult. He did this a few more times before settling on,

“Whatever’s in those vials, I was giving it to my mom,” he said, his eyes darting around the room as he spoke. “That’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

           “I’ll have them run it through the lab,” Rossi said, before leaving and heading towards the direction in which Castenada had retreated.

           Emily and Luke were quick to hop into a rushed conversation, leaving only Spencer and I still in the cell. I looked up at him, at the way his forehead creased as he bit his lip in quiet contemplation.

           “Are you sure you’re ready for a cognitive? I know the effects may be wearing off, but you’re gonna be cloudy for a while. If you don’t want to do it now, all you have to do is say the word,” I murmured, keeping my voice low so that only he could hear it. “I can tell that you’re a bit overwhelmed, and that’s okay.”

           Spencer’s response came in the form of a shrug of his shoulders.

           “I want to try, because I know it’s important. I just don’t know that it will be of much help,” he replied, casting his eyes down to me.

           “Yes, it is important, but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. We’ll figure this out even if you can’t remember it all right now.”

           Spencer nodded once before running his tongue across his chapped bottom lip.

           “I don’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill her,” he whispered, barely audible. Even though his words were quiet, I could hear the desperation in them; almost as if he was begging me to believe them, begging himself to believe them.

           I made the irrational decision then to throw professionalism aside and wrap both of my arms around his torso, my grip tight and assured. Spencer’s aversion to touch was common knowledge amongst us all, but for some reason that never seemed to apply to me, and I could see in his eyes that the way we were all treating him like he was fragile was wounding him more than he would ever admit. I hoped to remedy that with my embrace, and the speed in which he reciprocated was so fast that I was certain he was thankful. He wrapped his injured hand around my waist, the other finding purchase in my hair. I felt his chest move as he let out a shuddering breath.

           “I know you didn’t, Spence. Everyone on the team knows you didn’t,” I reassured him, my words muffled as my face was pressed against his chest. “And we’re not going to stop until everyone else knows it, too.”

           I was well aware that our embrace had garnered the attention of our teammates, but Spencer’s hold on me hadn’t faltered in the slightest, so I didn’t let mine either. Instead, I gripped the fabric of his flannel shirt tighter in my hands.

--

           When Emily exited the room in which they had conducted the cognitive interview, the look on her face was grim. I visibly cringed at the sight as I felt the sliver of hope that I had left die a miserable death.

           We are so beyond fucked.

           “How’s he doing?” Rossi asked, obviously taking note of the distress on Emily’s face.

           “He’s made some breakthroughs, but I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be,” she sighed, running a hand through her jet-black hair. When none of us spoke, Emily’s eyes flitted around, finally noticing that our expressions were a direct reflection of her own. “What is it?”

           “They just charged Reid with the murder of Nadi Ramos.”

           Hearing it said aloud wasn’t any easier the second time.

--

           While the rest of us had taken it upon ourselves to lean against the cement walls, Luke had begun pacing down the short hallway. After about ten minutes of unbearable silence, he decided he’d had enough.

           “We can’t get him out of here, can we?” he finally spoke, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

           “I don’t know how.”

           “He didn’t kill her,” I reiterated, speaking more to myself than the three of them.

           “If all I had to go on was the evidence, I would swear he did,” Rossi sighed. I knew he was right; Spencer’s personal belongings were all over the hotel room, which was about as incriminating as you could get. “But knowing Reid, hearing the cognitive…”

           “Yes, he said there was another person in that motel room, but,” Emily pressed play on the audio recording, and her voice proceeded to flow through the speakers.

           “Who has the knife? Who is stabbing Rosa?”

           “I don’t know. It’s in my hand.”

           Emily pressed the power button and the screen went black.

           “Right now, this is just more evidence against him.”

           “So, what do we do now? Do we just sit and twiddle our thumbs until the consulate agrees to the extradition?” I asked. “There’s got to be more we can do. We can’t let them take him to jail, he won’t survive in there.”

           “I called in some help from IRT. Clara Seger and Matt Simmons will be arriving at any moment,” Emily said, checking her phone after hearing it ping. “In fact, that would be them. They’re here.”

           I breathed a sigh of relief as we all fell into step beside Emily. Having people from other areas of expertise that are willing to help is a good thing. Maybe they’ll be able to see something that we didn’t.

--

           “We come bearing good news,” I announced, leading the group as we all entered the holding cell. Spencer was quick to turn around and the corners of his lips pulled upwards as he set his sights on all of us. “Back up is here.”

           “Hey Spencer,” Matt greeted, offering up a small smile before crossing his arms across his chest.

           “Hey,” Spencer replied, moving to stand up from his spot on the bench. He was still a little wobbly on his feet, but he was doing much better than he was when we had arrived. “Thank you for coming.”

           “Yeah, of course. Jack and me are finishing up a case in Costa Rica, so we hopped on a commercial plane to get here,” Clara explained.

           “We’re trying to stop you transfer to El Diablo.”

           Spencer’s eyes darted over to me and he swallowed hard before speaking.

           “Do you think it’s possible?” Hearing the hope in his voice tugged at my heart strings. The way that he could manage to stay optimistic at time like this was a true testament to his character.

           “Yes,” Clara began. “Lab reports on the vials came back and some of what was in there hasn’t been approved by the FDA, but there aren’t any illegal substances.”

           “That’s great news,” I sighed, letting out the breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

           “Is there anything else you remember about your time here?”

           “I remember what happened to the vials at home. My mom threw most of them out.”

           “So, that’s why you were here. To get more,” Clara said in an attempt to clarify.

           “It must be,” Spencer murmured, shuffling anxiously from one foot to the other.

           “Well, you’re off the hook for that. There’s no contraband involved,” Matt announced. Okay, this is good. One less thing to worry about.

           “Yeah, but we’re still looking at the planted drug and the murder charges, which could keep you here for a long time.”

           “Can we do anything to delay the transfer?” I wondered aloud. Clara took into account what I said and sighed, before turning towards Spencer once again.

           “You said that you met Nadi, who calls herself Rosa, in Houston. Why didn’t she just give you the vials in the U.S.?”

           “I don’t know,” Spencer said, running his uninjured hand through his hair. “I don’t know, but she helped us and I trusted her. I was right to. I still believe that.”

           “Well, she convinced you to cross the border multiple times. She had you risk your life,” Matt argued.

           “Because she must have something to lose, too,” I mumbled, eliciting a series of fervent nods from Clara. “Family, maybe?”

           “We need to know more about her,” Clara said.

           And then, something glorious happened. It was like a switch had flipped inside of Spencer’s head, and all of the sudden the lights were back on. I could tell that he had been struck with an idea, and it was a wonderous sight to behold.

           “What was in those vials?” Spencer asked, only solidifying my observation.

           Matt produced a paper with the lab results and began reading off the results.

           “There are so nootropic compounds like Ampalex, uh, but also some more natural stuff; coral calcium, jimson weed, coconut oil, a variety of vitamins. B12, D3-”

           “Where are we right now?” Spencer interjected.

           “Matamoros, Northern Mexico.”

           “Jimson weed, otherwise known as the Devil’s Snare, originated in Mexico but its natural growing region is further north or south of the border,” Spencer said, his words flowing out rapidly. I felt my heart soar and I didn’t even try to suppress the smile that fought its way to my face.

           “Boy Genius is back,” I announced, and for just a moment, the mood in the room lightened for the first time all day.

           “So, if it isn’t from here, then were did she get it?” Clara asked.

           “Let me get Garcia on,” Emily murmured, dialing the number and tapping her foot as it rang. On the third ring, Penelope’s bright and cheerful voice filled the room, a sunbeam shining through on a cloudy day.

           “Please tell me you’re calling to tell me some good news.”

           “Garcia, I have some questions for you.”

           “Hey, Penelope,” Matt greeted, earning a pleasantly surprised gasp from the woman on the other end.

           “Oh my God, it’s the dulcet tones of Matt Simmons,” Penelope gushed. “Are you there to save the day?”

           “I’m trying. Clara’s here, too.” A relieved sigh floated through the speakers.

           “Knowing we have you guys as backup is providing me some much-needed hope, and I work better this way.”

           “Hey, lady,” Clara greeted. “We’re trying to catch up on a few things. Where is Nadi Ramos from?” Before Clara even managed to finish her sentence, the sound of Garcia’s acrylic nails tapping away at her keyboard could be heard.

           “Mm she lives with her family just north of Matamoros.”

           “That must be where she got the jimson weed,” Emily pointed out.

           “What’s weird in she crosses the border, like, a lot.”

           “Why?”

           “Well, she works in Houston at that clinic, but she also helps at a low-income healthcare center. I can’t find a visa on her, which is double weird. And, in finishing the weird trifecta, there’s a social security number on her W2 form.”

           “Social security? She’s an American citizen?” I asked. Matt confirmed my suspicions with a nod of his head.

           “Yeah, she had dual citizenship. She was born in Houston, and her family had to move back to Mexico. She lives with them and she works in the U.S.”

           “This changes everything. We need to talk to the consulate,” Emily stated.

           Just as things were beginning to look up, Chief Castenada decided to grace us with his presence once more; and this time, he had an entourage.

           “It’s time for his transfer,” Castenada announced, looking pointedly in my direction.

           “We’ve had a break in the case,” Emily argued, shaking her head at him. “The victim was also American, and that calls for extradition.”

           Castenada merely shrugged before walking past us all.

           “I’ve got orders, sorry,” he muttered, making Gavin’s apology from earlier in the day sound heartfelt in comparison. Castenada wasted no time in beginning to place handcuffs on Spencer, locking them in place with a definitive click. Spencer and I shared a look of panic before both of us looked towards Emily in a silent plea.

           One of the men roughly grabbed Spencer by the arm and led him from the room. I watched in horror as they led him away, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. I barely registered the fact that Emily was now on the phone. I just stood there, staring blankly at the entrance to the cell.

           “With the victim having dual citizenship, we now have concurrent jurisdiction. It was my understanding that the official order to extradite SSA Spencer Reid would be evaluated,” Emily damn near snarled into the phone. She paused for a moment, listening to the voice on the other line, before a look of relief washed over her face. “I understand, thank you.” She promptly hung up the phone before turning to face Luke. “They’re taking it to their brass. Go get him.”

           Luke took off in a rush, not needing to be told twice.

           I only wished I could be there to see the look on Castenada’s face.

--

           “We’re working on all channels here. Matt Cruz is on with the consulate right now. We could get an immediate extradition, but it’s just the beginning,” Emily explained, her voice stern.

           Spencer regarded her with a weary expression. The drug induced haze had finally lifted, leaving him painfully aware of how dire the situation was.

           “I really screwed up and I’m so sorry,” he choked out, resulting in a crack forming in Emily’s hard exterior. I couldn’t blame her; it wasn’t easy to stay mad at Spencer Reid. Spencer’s eyes were like kryptonite to most; big and brown and full of emotion. I’m sure if you searched ‘puppy dog eyes’ in the dictionary, a picture of Spencer Reid would be found in example.

           “It was for the right reason.”

           “I can’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill anyone.” It was obvious in the way that he kept repeating the words that he was desperate for us to believe him. No amount of calm reassurance from us could quell the voice in his head that was surely telling him that we thought him guilty.

           “We do, too.”

           Clara was first to enter the cell, immediately followed by Matt.

           “Hey, they approved the extradition,” Clara announced, smiling brightly at the three of us.

           “Effective immediately,” Matt added on.

           We all exchanged relieved smiles before Matt and Clara led Spencer from the cell. Emily and I were quick to follow, right on Matt’s heels when we were stopped by Castenada.

           “I must point out that I feel like justice isn’t exactly being served with this move.”

           I pursed my lips together. In the short time we had been in Mexico, my feelings towards the man had grown from distaste to almost a full-blown hatred. That being said, I couldn’t help but understand where he was coming from. If Spencer hadn’t been a federal agent, he wouldn’t be granted the privilege of the extradition. Nor would he be allowed to fly home with us. I hated to admit it, but Castenada made a valid point.

           “I understand, but I can assure you that this has gone to the highest ranks and there will be a full investigation,” Emily reassured him.

           “Thank you for working with us,” I offered in an attempt to smooth over the rift I had created earlier. Now that my judgement wasn’t so clouded by my need to defend Spencer, I could see the error of my ways. I hadn’t been the most professional.

           Castenada nodded once in my direction before turning his attention back to Emily.

           “For our reports, I would like to have the recording of that cognitive interview.”

           I felt my blood run cold. That interview would just add to the list of things that could be used against Spencer in court. He had openly admitted to holding the murder weapon in his own hands, an admission that would surely earn him twenty to life.

           We cannot give him that recording.

           Emily seemed to be on the same page as I was.

           “I didn’t record it.”

           Castenada’s face contorted into an ugly frown.

           ��But that was our agreement,” he squawked angrily.

           “I determined he was still under the influence. Anything he said wouldn’t have clarified matters.”

           Castenada’s gaze never faltered, eyeing Emily in an attempt to discern if she was giving him the run around. Luckily, Castenada was unable to find a hint of dishonesty on Emily’s face, and he nodded in resignation.

           Years of profiling will teach you how to control your micro expressions.

           “You’re committed agents. And I’ve worked with the IRT before. I trust you know what you’re doing.”

           “We do. I promise,” I stated, my voice giving off more confidence than I felt. Yes, I thought to myself, there’s no doubt that we’re good at what we do.

           But so is Scratch.

--

           All was quiet on the jet, the steady thrum of the engine being the only sound that could be heard. Rossi had been the only one able to fall asleep, something that I would be sure to tease him about later. Next to Rossi sat Emily, who had busied herself with flipping through Spencer’s arresting report. Clara and Matt sat across from them, engulfed in their own hushed conversation.

           Spencer had opted to sit on the couch, but he didn’t allow himself to sprawl out like he normally would have done. He was visibly exhausted, wiping at his eyes frequently in an attempt to keep the fatigue at bay. It was almost like he was punishing himself; like he didn’t feel he deserved the solace that sleep would bring.

           “You should go talk to him. See if you can’t get him to lay down,” Luke whispered encouragingly from his seat beside mine.

           “I have no idea what to say to him,” I confessed. I tore my gaze away from Spencer and turned my attention to Luke. “There’s nothing I can say that will make this any better.”

           “You’re not wrong about that, but maybe just letting him know you’re here for him will help. Just go and sit with him, I’m sure he could use a friend right now.”

           Luke was right. I let out a dramatic sigh before shooting Luke a pointed look.

           “Since when did you get so insightful?”

           A grin stretched its way across his face.

           “Always have been, sweetness. It’s part of my charm. I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”

           “And on that note, I’ll be going,” I announced, standing up from my seat and walking the short distance to the couch. Luke’s chuckles sounded off behind me and I couldn’t help but smile; note to self, make more of an effort to get to know Luke Alvez.

I approached slowly, hoping not to startle him as he seemed to be lost in his own world. He didn’t notice me until I came to a stop in front of the couch. Spencer’s head shot up suddenly, the worry on his face melting away to form a small smile.

“Hi,” I greeted, returning his smile tenfold. “You looked like you could use some company. Do you mind if I sit?”

Spencer gave me a soft smile and scooted over, patting at the space next to him. I lowered myself onto the couch, angling my body so it was facing him.

“You’re tired,” I observed, leaning back into the soft cushions. Spencer shrugged in reply, opening his mouth to argue, only for a yawn to slip out. I let out a light laugh. “Don’t even try to argue. There’s no telling how long you’ve been up. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

Spencer’s eyes reluctantly met mine and I felt almost paralyzed when I saw the sheer vulnerability in them.

“Researchers from the University of Cardiff conducted a two-part study looking at whether people’s daily frustration or fulfilment of their psychological needs, such as feeling autonomous or competent, affects their dreams. The results from the first study showed that people who were frustrated with their daily situation tended to have recurring dreams in which they were falling, failing or being attacked,” he rasped out, his words jumbling together as they fell from his mouth in rapid succession. “The lead author on the study concluded that negative dream emotions may directly result from distressing dream events, and might represent the psyche’s attempt to process and make sense of particularly psychologically challenging waking experiences.”

“And you’re worried your dreams will reflect what happened today.”

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek before nodding in affirmation.

“I can’t promise you that you won’t dream about those things,” I began, my voice coming out soft. “But I can tell you that sleep deprivation can cause lots of very unfortunate symptoms like impaired memory, reduced physical strength, and inability to concentrate. Do you know how I know those things?”

A light flush dusted over the tops of his cheeks.

“Probably because I’ve made it a habit to bore you with my information dumps.”

I shook my head adamantly, reaching a hand up and ruffling up his hair. He batted my hand away, ducking his head to try and hide the smile tugging at his lips.

“Never a bore, Spence. But yes, I know those things because of you and that remarkable brain of yours. And we’re going to need that remarkable brain in tip top shape if we want to get you out of this mess, understood?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he relented.

I patted a hand on my lap, an invitation for him to use me as a pillow. He seemed hesitant, eyes flitting from my face before going back down to my lap.

“Don’t act shy around me, Pretty Boy. I know better than anyone that you’re a secret cuddle bug,” I teased, earning a snort from the man next to me.

“Am not,” he harrumphed, before deciding to take me up on my offer. He laid his head down on my lap before stretching his legs out across the expanse of the couch. My heart lurched pitifully when he nuzzled his head into my leg before letting out a loud sigh.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered, voice thick with emotion. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, casting tiny shadows on his face. I smiled at the sight and began carding my hands through his hair.

“No need to thank me,” I murmured, raking my nails against his scalp and eliciting a pleased hum from him. “Don’t you worry about a thing, okay? We’re going to get you out of this. I know we will. And don’t worry about your mom, either; I’m going to check on your mom every day, I promise.”

Spencer’s breathing stuttered at the mention of Diana, and I worried I had crossed a line. He stayed silent for a moment, before moving his hand up and squeezing my knee.

“You’re entirely too good to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’d do the same for me. That’s what friends are for.”

No more words were exchanged, and within five minutes Spencer’s breathing evened out and he was asleep.

--

Several hours later, we were all filing out of the elevator and into the bullpen. I shivered slightly as the cool air hit my bare arms, but I tried not to show my discomfort. I’d shrugged off my sweater and offered it to Spencer the moment we stepped off the jet, draping it across his cuffed hands in an attempt to conceal them. Spencer had thanked me with a pitiful smile and I returned the sentiment, blinking several times to try and stifle the tears pooling in my eyes.

JJ was the first to greet him, with Stephen, Tara and Penelope following closely behind. I watched on for a moment before my attention was pulled elsewhere. Stephen’s phone had rung, prompting him to slip away from the group and retreat further down the hall. I furrowed my brow at this, taking advantage of my colleagues’ distraction as I wandered towards Stephen. I strained to hear his whispered words, but just as soon as I neared, he ended the call.

“What was that about?” I asked quietly. The look on his face told me that the news couldn’t be good, and I didn’t want to ruin the reunion going on just down the hall. They all deserved a few moments of relief.

Stephen let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his hair before speaking.

“I, uh, just got a call. Reid isn’t eligible for the bureau’s legal assistance.”

Stephen’s words sent a jolt of white-hot dread through me. “How is that even possible?”            “Spencer went without being briefed, and he wasn’t in Mexico on government business. They refuse to represent him.”

I let my wary eyes drift down the hall, towards the group of wonderful misfits that I had grown to think of as family;

Penelope, whose optimism never wavered, even in the face of the absolute worst that the world had to offer.

JJ, a devoted mother with a heart of gold and a fierceness that inspired me every single day.

Tara, one of the most intelligent and caring women I had ever had the privilege to know.

Rossi, a father figure to all with enough wisdom to create a legacy that would inspire generations of profilers to be.

Emily, a fearless leader whom I trusted with my life and would follow into battle without question.

Luke, a newcomer who took special care to comfort me when I was at my worst.

Spencer, a man too remarkable to even try to describe with words. A man that anyone of us would defend until our very last breath.

That undeniable truth gave birth to the tiny sliver of hope growing inside of me. Spencer Reid was innocent, and we are all hellbent on proving it.

I nodded once in affirmation, more to myself than to Stephen, before allowing myself to meet his gaze.

“We’re on our own.”

And if anyone could pull this off, it was this team. My team.

There is a point when facing the unknown stops being a longed-for adventure and becomes a terrifying reality.

           -Storm Constantine

[gr0vndz3ro]

Fucking Fame

Idol!Bakugou x Idol!Reader(NSFW)

Warnings:NSFW,18+, cursing, thigh riding, slight degradation??, unprotected sex

Word Count:3,656

Crossed off: Popstar AU

Tag list: @gallickingun​ @prismaroyal​ @shoutodoki​ @sadistiks​ @keigod​ @honeytama​ @shoutogepi​ @hawks-senseis​​

A/N: Happy forth of July to my fellow people in the USA enjoy some smut. This is my first piece for the @bnhabookclub​  bingo event, but I hope that you guys really enjoy it :3

“We’ve been driving for hours, PLEASE tell me that we’re close to the venue. I think I’m going to die.” You say as you throw yourself against the couch in your tour bus. You were currently heading to where your next concert was supposed to be located. It wasn’t far enough in distance to warrant taking the plane so here you were, trap inside this boring bus.

“You should be relaxing for the show tonight. And your supposed to be on vocal rest until we get there, so stop focusing on when we are going to arrive and just do what you’re told.” Your manager doesn’t even bother looking up from her laptop while you throw your fit. You roll your head over to where she sat and sigh dramatically hoping to get her attention so the two off you could do something more entertaining, but when she continues typing you give up. Moving your feet off of the side of the couch, you get up heading back toward the little hang out room. 

You shut the door behind you and take a seat on one of the comfy chairs and pull out your phone checking out tonight’s show and venue. After typing in your password you can see that the show tonight was one of your combined shows with a well known band that your agency wanted to have a show with to help boost your ratings. You had tried refusing doing a combined show but in the end your manager and team won. You knew that it would be good publicity but there was apart of you that wanted to be able to achieve your fame without having to piggy back off of others. Seeing as this was your first tour though, you didn’t have much say in things. What bothered you the most though, was that you had never even met this band before. At the least with other shows, you had a day or two to get to know whoever you were preforming with but this time it was almost as if you were thrown to the vultures. 

So you took it upon yourself to look them up. The band had consisted of 5 members. There was their lead singer, Izuku Midoryia, who seemed to be the face of the band, appearing in the most amount of interviews and seeming to have the biggest general following. The lead guitarist and back up singer, Shouto Todoroki, seemed to be more of the band’s mystery man and the ladies favorite. The second guitarist, Eijirou Kirishima, looked to be the life of the group, appearing at as many meet and greets and almost always staying after shows to talk to fans. There was the base guitarist, Denki Kaminari, who seemed to get in the most amount of newspapers and magazines. Never for any super bad reasons but it seemed to be for really stupid things like accidently breaking a hotel microwave by microwaving glass. And then there was the drummer.

Katsuki Bakugou.

According to article after article, he was the group bad boy. He had no filter and was often never brought to interviews due to past appearances. He didn’t put up with the fakeness of celebrity life and called every person who was apart of it out on it. The band’s PR team constantly had to log him out of his twitter due to vulgar debates. You were also able to find multiple scandals' involving him and other female celebrities and fans to which he never responded to with more than a wicked smile. But other than his hot headed ego and promiscuous relations, there wasn’t much else you could find. You searched for a half hour to try to see if you could find anything else about who he was but nothing came up. Eventually you gave up on your efforts to try to uncover any actually useful information on the man, instead decided to waste your time by taking a nap until you arrived at the venue. 

It felt like only seconds had passed before you were being nudged awake by your lovely manager. She explained to you that you had arrived at the arena and gave you direction to where your dressing room was going to be. The band had already preformed the sound check so you were free to take your time while getting ready seeing as they wouldn’t need you for a bit before it was time for your own mic check. You made your way through the poorly lit halls to where your manager had told you your dressing room was. When you finally come across the door you believe to lead to your room you push it open and quickly enter. Your make your way over to were the vanity was and take a seat. While reaching over to grab your products for the night, your attention is caught by the sound of the door opening. There in the doorframe was the same man you were unable to find any information on. Although you were confused as to what he was doing in your dressing room.

“Um can I help you?” Your eyes trail after him as he beelines toward the couch before plopping down. You raise your eyebrow at him, questioning how comfortable he was making himself. “Make yourself comfy I guess” He continued to ignore you while moving his arms behind his head as he closes his eyes. “Are you just going to sit there and ignore me? What are you even doing in my room?” You were now standing next to where you were just seated, hands against your hips as you question him. He shuffled on the couch looking over at where you were.

“Your room? I don't think you got the memo princess.” He sat up from his spot on the couch, still taking an obnoxiously large amount of room he spoke again. “This is our room. The other dressing room was too small for all 5 of us so the two of us are sharing. Besides...” He looked you up and down, suddenly feeling very small under his glare, “wannabe brats like you don’t get a private room. Sorry about your luck your highness” You’re stare hardens at his words, angry now flowing through you.

“Well you don’t have a private room either so what does that say about you?” Crossing your arms you wait for him to come up with some clever response. You make your way over to wear he was, prepared to shove him out of your room so that you could have some peace and quiet before tonight.

“Why you little-” You cut him off before he can finish his sentence.

“You know what I think. I think that your other bandmates probably got sick and tired of your ‘I’m the best person here and everyone else can fuck off’ attitude and forced you to go to some other room. How pathetic do you have to be for your own friends to find you obnoxious?” Your words leaving your mouth like venom, not even caring how mean you sounded. When he shot up from the couch and stormed right infront of you, you still stood your ground. You weren’t going to back down. He kept coming closer and closer to you until he was barely a step away, his face merely a few inches from yours. A breath hitches in the back of your throat, as you feel your body betray you. Just his presence alone was soaked in intimidation. You go to speak up again to tell him to back off but you feel the words get trapped and fail to get out. A smirk covering his face as he notices as well. 

“Oh? Not so big and tough now are you? You should learn to hold your fucking tongue, especially when you’re talking to someone who could end your whole career.” He holds you in place with his killer stare, Vermillion eyes staring into your own. You swallow whatever lump had formed and spoke up.

“Oh yeah? You and what following? I’ve heard about you ya know. Everyone knows that you call out everyone for living such fake lives. For taking advantage of their fame and sleeping with whoever they want just because they’re famous and they know they’ll do what ever they say. Yet you’re exactly the same. You pick up chick after chick as they all practically fling themselves onto you. You’re just a fucking hypocrite and I know you’re not going to do shit because you’re all talk.” Confidence pouring from your mouth as you take a step away from him, trying to create distance between the two of you. But he quickly takes another step forward closing your attempt.

“You almost sounded jealous there, what do you wish you could be one of them?” His smirk so wide you could see his gums poking out. You scoff at his remark.

“As if I would ever be with someone like you.” A look of disgust taking over you face at even the thought of sleeping with him. But like a disease, the thought continued to spread in your thoughts and slowly your face began to heat up. Suddenly the little space between you felt hot and you were wanting nothing more than to leave the room and distance yourself from him, but he had different plans. 

“Is that so?” He continues stepping toward you and you back away from him. This continues until you feel you back hit the wall next to where you were once getting ready. A gasp leave your lips at the sudden contact but are quickly brought back by a hand on your jaw, turning you toward his face. 

“Yes t-that’s so” You curse yourself at the stutter that manages to escape, the tension in between you finally getting to you, against your own wishes. A deep chuckle makes a shiver shoot down your spin.

“You don’t seem to confident in that answer. Come on where did all of that sass go? Don’t tell me the brat has lost her fight.” His free hand makes its way to the wall behind you, effectively caging you in-between it and his broad chest. 

“I didn’t lose anything and I’m not a brat.” You clench your teeth, sure he could feel it through his hold. His grip tightens slightly against you as he brings you closer to his face. So close that you could now feel his warm breath fan across you as he spoke.

“Then prove it princess. Show me that you’re not just some goodie two shoes who’s gonna cry if she doesn’t get her way.” His face hovering just barely in front of yours. You look into his eyes and think about what he said. You could very easily just brush past him and walk out but it was something about the way he was staring you down that almost didn’t make you want to go. So, against you better judgement, you did the exact opposite. You raise your arm up, bringing it to his forearm. Moving your fingertips up the muscles of his thick arms, you watch goosebumps litter his skin. Once you get to his bicep you switch to having your full arm feel him as you continue to travel all the way to his neck, where you run your hand around the back of his neck, finger tips spreading throughout his hair. Bringing your eyes back to meet his, you take a handful of the soft locks and lightly tug it, earning a throaty groan from him. Using the leverage of control over his head, you bring him down so you are at level with his ear.

“Why don't you make me?” You say as you lean forward, giving his ear a small nibble before returning back to your spot against the wall. His face grows red at your sudden forwardness, and you chuckled before letting a smirk cross your lip. But when you watch as his eyes darken as he drinks you in, you find yourself subconsciously biting your bottom lip. His eyes flicker down to see you release your lip before bring his own to come crashing down.

Both of your lips meet in a fight for dominance, not wanting to just let him win and loose your ground. Your hands still tangled in his hair as you find yourself tugging on the stands as you fight for air. The sensation only further driving Bakugou to want more. His hand moves away from the wall and to you hip as the other travels to the back of your neck, pulling you further into him if it was even possible. Your lips move in perfect harmony as he pushes himself into you, his thigh separating your legs as he kept you pinned against the wall. You gasp as you feel his hand grab your ass, but he takes advantage of it and dives his tongue into your mouth. They meet in a battle of dominance, exploring every dip of each others mouth. Eventually he takes charge and you feel yourself moan into the kiss. Oblivious from the heated kiss, you had hardly noticed Bakugou’s hand slid down to the edge of your skirt until you felt him take a handful of your ass and squeeze. 

You pull away from the kiss looking him in the eyes, lust glazed over them. You squeezed your thighs together but instead of getting any relief from the presser, it caused you rind down onto the thick thigh that was holding them apart. The friction making a surge of pleasure rip through you and the need to feel again grew. So you roll you hips forward, moaning from the rough jeans against your almost naked core, protected only by thin lace. It was almost as if something had came over you as you continued rolling your hips against his muscular thigh getting yourself closer to your own release. That was until two firm hands landed on either side of you hips, haltering your movement. 

“Are you so desperate that you’re trying to get off by riding my thigh? If you want more all you have to do is ask princess.” Leaning down so that his head was right next to your ear, making sure you heard his next sentence. “Go ahead, I want to hear you beg for it.” The feeling of his lips on your neck make your hips involuntarily move as he searches for the sweet spot, but as soon as he finds it you’re a puddle of whimpers in his fingertips. 

“Pl-please Bakugou- ughh- I need more” Barely able to get the words out any louder than a whine. Desperately trying to receive any form of please the man infront of you was willing to give to you. You shutter as you feel him chuckle against your skin.

“Is that all you got? You’re going to have to do better than that if you want this dick at all.” He returns to kissing against your neck, just light enough not to give you the pleasure you so desired.

“Fuck! Bakugou please! I need you to fill me up and fuck me until I can’t walk. Please I need your fat cock to just split me open.” If you could hear the words you were saying right now you would probably die of embarrassment but the amount of lust taking over your body made you not even think twice at the lewd confession. You feel his grasp on your hips tighten, his finger tips digging into your soft sides, surely leaving marks, as a groan leaves his lips at your begging. Quickly, he moves his hands from your side to underneath your hips, picking you up before placing you down on the sofa he once was on, pinning you between the soft cushion and his hard chest. You two met again in a passionate kiss, much messier than the first, spit was everywhere but you couldn’t care less you just wanted all of him. As he reached down to pull the drenched lace down your thighs you could feel his hard on press against your thigh and you couldn’t help but feel even more turned on by the fact he was liking this as much as you were. Pulling away from the kiss you feel him pant against your lips.

“Call me Katsuki baby, I want to hear you scream my name as I destroy this pretty little pussy of yours.” He almost couldn’t tear his gaze away from your soaked core, wanting nothing more than to devour you then and there. “Next time I’m going to have to eat you out but for now I want to feel you around me instead.” You feel yourself clench around nothing at the thought of there being a next time.

But suddenly your attention is grabbed when you feel his head press against your entrance, your head shoots down to see his massive cock rubbing against you, gathering all your slick with each stroke. Teasingly, he stops right as his tip is aligned with your hole, causing you to squirm as you craved to feel him deep inside you.

“Please Katsuki I can’t take it any more, I need you!” You bite down on your lip as you feel him start to push into you, feeling yourself stretch around his head as it dips further into you. Clenching around him at the pleasure of him filling you up.

“F-fuck Y/N you gotta stop squeezing me like that.” He struggled with trying to slowly push into you at how tight you were, so he did the next best thing. Thrusting his hips forward, he forces himself passed though the squeezing grip into you until you are filled to the brim with his cock. His head dipping back in ecstasy at how your walls hug around him. “Shit you’re so fucking tight.”

“P-please move.” Tears collect in your eyes at how full you were. Sure you may have been with other guys before but no one ever made you feel this full. Slowly he pulls out of you before rutting his hips forward to fill you back up. The way he was positioned, causing him to hit your g-spot. A moan leaving your lips as he starts moving his hip again, starting to pick up the pace before eventually he is slamming into you at an unforgiving speed.

The feeling of his vein dragging against your walls as he slams into your spongey wall causing you to cry out at the amount of intense pleasure you were feeling. Your hands make there way to his back, digging your nails into the muscle as you try to somehow control how you were feeling.

“Is my little princess already going to cum?” A yes barely makes it out of you as a mutter of profanities follow soon after. His hand reaches down to press into your clit causing a wave of heat to flood through you. While rubbing little circles into you, he leans down, kissing and sucking on your neck before speaking again. “Come on then baby girl, let me hear you. I want everyone in the whole building to know who’s making you feel this good.”

“God you Katsuki!! You do! Holy fuck you’re gonna make me cum” Your back arches as his pace becomes sloppy but he keeps increasing in power. You can feel the couch shaking at the intensity at which he’s slamming into you.

“Cum for me princess, cum all over me.” If the pleasure from him hitting both of your sweet spots wasn’t enough, the addition of his lewd words burning into your ear was enough to make you see stars. As he continued his assault on your body your vision went white as you chased your release, clenching tightly around him as your hands dragged down his back, marking it as your own as you felt yourself cum around the thick cock that pulsed inside of you. Watching your face be taken over in pure bliss and the feeling of you milking his dick had Bakugou painting the inside of your walls white within a few thrusts.

His pace started to slow down helping the both of you ride out your high. The room was filled with the sound of both of your uneven breathing as you both attempted to catch your breath. After a few minutes he pulled himself out of you and you immediately felt empty. He watched as his seed tried spilling out of you as you clenched at the sudden emptiness, and quickly brought his finger down to scoop it back up and push it back into you. He looked into your eyes as a smirk takes over his face.

“Maybe you aren’t as much of a goodie two shoes as I thought.” He grabs your hand and helps you to stand up and you feel your knees buckle under the weight. An arm is wrapped around you waist, stopping you from falling to the floor. As he held you, you felt his cum run down your thighs. You were about to ask him a question when a knock came from the door.

“Y/N you’re need for a mic check, make sure you hurry up because they’re waiting for you.” You heard the voice of your manager from out side of the room and a look of panic crosses your face but Bakugou just chuckles.

“You heard her princess, your audience awaits. We’ll just have to pick up where we left off after the show.” An evil smile on his face as he lets go of you and nudges you toward the door. As you step out of the room and make your way toward the where the stage was, you realized one thing.

That fucker didn’t give you back your underwear.