#before he was not able to express his thanks directly but understood there was a bond but now he feels safe and comfortable enough

[t-u-i-t-c]

Episode 9 │ Episode 45

[renskaji]

injury, pt. 2

hajime umemiya x sakura!sister reader, wc: 1.8k, req? yes! find it here.

part one

It’s not too long after being checked into the hospital and the examination from the doctor that Haruka and Hiragi show up. 

Umemiya kept his word and stayed by your side throughout the entirety of the process. Even after the nurses helped him ease you off his back and into a wheelchair, he doesn’t go far. You’re thankful for it, because you don’t want to admit that you’re actually as terrified as you are. 

You’re not entirely certain if you’re scared of what the doctor has to say or the state Haruka will be in when he arrives. 

So when your brother knocks on the frame of the door to your hospital room, you flinch away from the quiet conversation Umemiya had been attempting to distract you with. Haruka is standing rigid just outside the room, his familiar face tight with anxiety you’ve seen too many times to count. It makes your heart slam against your ribcage, because you’re not sure you have the words needed to make him believe it’s not his fault. 

It isn’t his fault, not in the slightest, but he’s always taken on far too much blame.

“Go on,” Hiragi’s voice is barely above a whisper as he nudges your brother forward, finally forcing him to cross the threshold. He only enters a few steps, but it’s enough to snap you from your trance. 

“You need to ice that bruise on your face.” It’s bossy, you know, but you’re never going to grow out being his big sister and no situation is going to change that. In the silent seconds following your admonishment, you hear Umemiya chuckle under his breath. He dragged his chair directly to the side of your bed as soon as the doctor left, and even with the arrival of your brother and friend he hasn’t moved from his spot glued to your side. 

“You can’t be worried about that right now!” Haruka snaps, because he has too much emotion and he’s never been good about knowing where to put it. Before the two of you moved to Makochi, you were the only one that ever understood that about him. You’ll never be able to repay the countless people Haruka has met since moving that have taught him what kindness looks like from more than just you. 

Still, you watch your brother’s expression fall into shame once he’s realized he just yelled at you. He looks away from you, and you know he won’t look back for a while.

You shift your attention to Umemiya, instead. Your conversation with him is little more than a tilt of your head, the pout of your bottom lip. But you know he heads exactly what you’re asking of him when he leans forwards to brush his lips with the utmost care against the crown of your hair while pushing himself to his feet. It’s the first time he’s voluntarily left your side since you regained consciousness, and you know it’s not nothing that he does so with an act of affection. 

You’ve never talked about the nature of your relationship with Umemiya before, but it’s always been obvious that it went beyond simple friendship. 

“Hiragi, did you happen to see a vending machine on your way in?” Umemiya sets a hand on your brother’s shoulder as he passes by to leave the room, his closest friend following along with what’s no doubt an obvious ruse to give you and Haruka space to talk. 

There are a few moments of silence, even after they finally leave, where you’re left just staring at your brother. It’s hard to find the words, because you know what’s going through his head and it’s all so wrong that you don’t know where to start. 

You settle for being bossy, again. 

“Sit down, Haru.” You order. Usually, your brother puts up more of a fight when you tell him what to do. But he’s so exhausted by the events of the day that he takes Umemiya’s vacated chair by your bedside without argument. His chin is still turned to the side, hiding his expression, but you can still see how his frown pulls at the muscles in his cheek. 

It breaks your heart.

“Did you get patched up already?” You know there was no time between the attack and his arrival at the hospital for him to stop and clean himself up, but your question is more an attempt to rile him up enough to make him look at you. 

It works, but the unending guilt in his eyes makes your stomach twist in knots. 

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” He demands to know, and you’re so shocked by the vulnerability in his face that you freeze up. “I was supposed to protect you. I was the one who was fighting. And you got hurt, because of me.” 

He’s so wrong, you almost laugh. Or maybe you nearly laugh because the doctor gave you pain medicine and you’re still loopy from hitting your head. But either way, your cheek twitches into a grin almost involuntarily, and it makes your brother look at you like you’re crazy. 

Which he might not be wrong.

“You did protect me.” You hold up a hand to stop his protests, and he jerks his head to the side to help with the efforts of biting his tongue. You can see just how much strain this is putting on him, so you hope your words offer the most support with the least amount of time necessary. “It’s not your fault you were put in a tough spot. Ume and Hiragi got there as fast as they could, but you were defending me from a lot of guys. If I hadn’t been there, you would have taken them out easily.” 

“I failed to protect you,” He repeats, and you narrow your eyes in silent reprimand. There’s not much to say beyond what you’ve already done, so you choose actions over words. You’ve always communicated better with him that way, anyways. 

Your arm reaches out and Haruka is so focused on avoiding looking at you that he doesn’t notice until you’ve already flicked him in the center of his forehead. It gets his attention, and he frowns even deeper, though you can see the way he bites his tongue to keep from snapping at you again. 

“Go on, Haru.” You nod encouragingly, face smoothed into a facade of calmness. “You want to yell at me. Do it.” 

“You’re hurt. I’m not yelling at you.” He kisses his teeth in annoyance, eyes darting to the side to try and pretend that he’s not starting to blush. You want to tease him for it, but you have a plan. “‘M not a monster, y’know.” 

“You’re not.” You agree, tilting your head to the side to watch your brother carefully. He’s always been hard on himself, and after the way the two of you grew up, you can’t blame him. But it doesn’t mean you’ll let him off the hook too easily. “But I know you, and I know you’re upset that I got hurt. You can tell me I was too weak to defend myself, I can take it.”

Haruka looks at you like you’re crazy, and it takes everything in you to not blow your cover right there. 

“Wait, so you don’t blame me for not being able to fight back?” You sit up a little straighter, and you know that if your brother was any less panicked and upset then he would have noticed how over the top dramatic you were being. 

“No! Why the hell would I?”

“Oh,” You gasp, feigning realization as if you hadn’t been plotting this the whole time. Haruka is frowning, and you know he’s pieced together the fact that something is up. “So it makes sense that I don’t blame you for not being able to protect me and fight off a group that size?”

It’s quiet while Haruka processes your connection. You see the realization that you might be correct melt into his features in the shape of a frown. The tension slowly leeches from his shoulders, and you’re relieved. You don’t think you have it in you to keep fighting him on it, not while you’re exhausted and hurt. 

“I just love sibling bonding time!” 

The door opens wide when Umemiya calls out. Hiragi is hot on his heels, hissing for him to shut up a minute, but they both barrel into the room regardless. Haruka jumps in his seat and flushes a darker shade of red, and you just know you’re going to have to hear later about how he’s annoyed about Umemiya always showing up when he’s learning a lesson. 

“Are you feeling better?” Umemiya asks, crossing the room in a few strides to stand beside the chair your brother is still sitting in. Haruka moves to stand, to give Ume his seat, but the Bofurin rep sets a hand on his shoulder and nudges him back into place. “No, you stay.”

You watch the wordless exchange between your brother and your something more. Ume’s gentle smile and Haru’s subtle sigh of relief. It makes your chest tighten with a feeling of warmth, and you have to look away to keep yourself calm. 

“Better,” You answer Ume’s question. Your head still hurts like all hell and you know it’ll be worse when the pain medicine wears off, but at least Haruka finally believes that you don’t blame him for the attack. You can breathe a little easier, really, when knowing that. 

Umemiya smiles at you, and with the hand that’s not resting on Haruka’s shoulder he gently cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin tenderly. He pulls away soon after, the action punctuated by something that sounds like a squeak from Haruka. 

“Sakura,” Umemiya calls your last name, but he’s talking to your brother. Haruka is positively bright red, but you’re not doing much better, so you bite your tongue to keep from throwing stones in glass houses. “Don’t forget. You’re not alone in protecting your sister.” 

Steam might be coming from Haruka’s ears. 

“Yeah, well, good.” Your brother snaps, but you know it’s just because he’s embarrassed. Umemiya laughs, the sound the final part needed to relieve the tension from the room. “But I’m going to be better than you at protecting her.” 

“Of course you’d make it a competition.” 

“It’s not a competition!” Haruka glares at you, then points at Umemiya’s smiling face while pouting. “I’m your brother! He’s just—he’s just…! Who is he?”

You want to punch your brother for asking the question, but you know he’s just confused, so you refrain. But you can't look at anyone in the room after catching Hiragi pinching the bridge of his nose in stress. It’s a good thing you’re in the hospital, because he might need to see if they have any stomach medicine stronger than gaskun-10. 

“Oh, little Sakura!” Ume grins, and you see from the corner of your eye how the older boy musses up your brother’s hair teasingly. It starts a one sided argument you refuse to take part in. “We’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

[almostwisegalaxy]

Silent Hostility

Part 2

Part 3

Part4

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Reader has a shy character in this story

Age gaps : Spencer 37- 38 Reader : twenties

Post prison Reid. Season 13. But let's imagine that the team is Always the same as in the seasons marked, with : Derek Morgan, Aaron hotcher...

..................................................................................

The atmosphere in the BAU offices was the same as usual: agents moving back and forth, stacks of files piling up on desks, and the constant background noise of professional conversations. Spencer Reid usually kept his head down, absorbed in a scientific article or a pile of reports.

But today, something—someone—disrupted the ordinary flow of his day.

Y/N had just arrived.

A new recruit specializing in behavioral criminology. Young, far too young to be here in the eyes of some. And yet, her upright posture and sharp gaze spoke of a confidence far different from the polite smile she wore.

Spencer watched from the corner of his eye as she greeted Hotch and Prentiss with impeccable professionalism. She was elegant, composed, and he immediately noticed how some colleagues looked at her—with that mix of doubt and misplaced interest.

He, on the other hand, couldn’t look away for an entirely different reason.

Something was off.

Not with her directly, no. But in the way she carried herself, a subtlety almost imperceptible to an untrained eye. Her smile was perfectly controlled, her gestures measured, but there was tension in her fingers when she shook hands, a microsecond of hesitation before making eye contact.

A duality that captivated him.

He didn’t realize it at first, but he had stood up. He approached.

— Y/N, right?

She turned to him, and the moment their eyes met, Spencer felt a cold shiver creep into the air.

— Doctor Spencer Reid, he introduced himself, suddenly uncomfortable without knowing why.

She stared at him for a moment, her smile fading ever so slightly, as if something about him had just struck her straight in the heart. Then, she regained her composure and nodded.

— Nice to meet you, Doctor Reid.

A neutral response. Too neutral.

He felt a strange discomfort without being able to pinpoint its source. It was as if, in just a few seconds, she had erased him from her mind, like an annoying background noise.

— If you ever need help with—

— I can handle myself just fine, thanks.

The tone wasn’t overtly aggressive, but there was a sharp firmness, an invisible wall she had just put up between them.

Spencer froze. He didn’t understand.

The others had received smiles and polite exchanges. But with him, it was different.

It was cold.

And he had no idea why.

With time, Reid realized this wasn’t a passing awkwardness. It wasn’t just a misunderstanding.

Y/N hated him.

Oh, not openly. In front of the team, she was impeccable. Professional. But in the shadows, away from prying eyes, it was a different story.

Every time they were alone, the air grew heavier.

Once, as he was about to enter the break room, she walked out at the same moment. Their eyes met, and he immediately saw the change in her expression. A barely perceptible tension.

She walked past him without a word. As if he didn’t exist.

Another time, he tried to talk to her about a profile they were working on together.

— Y/N, I reviewed the latest data and—

— Look, Reid, she cut him off with a sigh, irritated. I know you love the sound of your own voice, but I’m not in the mood.

A knife to the chest would have hurt less.

He stood frozen, unable to respond.

She didn’t even look at him.

She despised him.

And he had no idea what he had done to deserve it.

Spencer Reid was a man of logic. He understood human behavior better than most. But this particular case eluded him.

Why?

Why her?

Why such visceral rejection?

He tried not to think about it. He tried to convince himself it didn’t matter. But the truth was, he had never been able to stand not understanding something.

So he watched her. Discreetly, of course. Just enough to catch those fleeting emotions she let slip when she thought no one was looking.

He saw the way her jaw tensed after a polite smile.

He noticed the stiffness in her shoulders when a man got too close.

He noted that, sometimes, she almost seemed… afraid.

But never around him.

No. She didn’t fear him.

She hated him.

And he would never know why.

---

Y/N knew Reid was watching her.

She could feel it before even seeing him. It wasn’t an intrusive gaze, nor was it ill-intentioned. But it was there. A persistent presence in her field of vision, an invisible weight on her skin.

She would have preferred if he despised her in return.

But no. He kept trying, clumsily, to break the barrier she had built between them.

And she kept reinforcing it.

That day, she was finalizing a report in an empty conference room when the door opened.

She didn’t need to look up to know it was him.

— Are you looking for someone? she asked bluntly, her tone sharp.

Reid hesitated for a second before stepping inside completely.

— No. I just wanted to… talk about the suspect’s profile.

She exhaled softly through her nose.

— We already discussed the profile with Hotch.

— Yes, but I noticed something that might be relevant.

She closed her laptop slowly and finally turned to him.

— Do you really want to do this now, Reid?

He blinked, visibly caught off guard.

— I… I don’t understand.

— Exactly. You don’t understand. So stop trying.

A heavy silence settled between them.

Spencer opened his mouth, closed it, then did what he always did when he was nervous—he started talking too fast.

— I’m sorry if I said or did something that offended you. That wasn’t my intention. Statistically speaking, first impressions can be biased by external factors—

— Reid.

She had just cut him off.

He stopped.

Her gaze was burning. Not with anger, but with something deeper. Something he couldn’t define.

She stood up slowly, took her file under her arm, and stepped closer to him.

— There’s nothing to understand, okay? Nothing to analyze, nothing to dissect.

She was so close now that he could see the faint tremble of her eyelashes, the barely perceptible tension in her fingers around the file.

— So stop.

She walked past him and left the room without another word.

Spencer remained still, his heart beating a little too fast, his thoughts in chaos.

He still didn’t understand.

But what he did know was that this woman was beginning to consume his mind.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Days passed. Then weeks.

Reid tried to ignore the effect Y/N had on him. But it wasn’t just a matter of attraction. It wasn’t her smile he wanted to understand. It was that silent pain hiding beneath the surface.

But she wouldn’t let him get close.

Worse, she seemed to close herself off even more when he was around.

Until that night.

They were returning from a grueling case in Dallas, one of those cases that leaves a mark on the soul.

On the plane ride back, the team was half-asleep. Y/N, however, sat with her arms crossed, staring into nothing.

Reid hesitated, then sat across from her.

She didn’t react immediately, but he saw her shoulders tense ever so slightly.

— Can I? he asked softly.

She raised an eyebrow.

— Since when do you ask permission to sit?

— Since I realized you’d probably prefer me on the other side of the plane.

She said nothing.

Silence stretched between them.

Finally, she sighed, exhausted.

— Why do you keep pushing, Reid?

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

Because he didn’t know.

Because she fascinated him as much as she pushed him away.

Because he sensed, deep down, that beneath her disdain, there was something else.

— You’re a mystery, he finally admitted, honest.

She let out a bitter laugh.

— Do you think everyone is a puzzle to be solved?

— Not everyone.

Just her.

Y/N stared at him for a long moment. Then she stood up and went to sit elsewhere.

Spencer watched her empty seat, unable to understand why his chest felt so tight.

But he knew one thing.

He wouldn’t be able to ignore her.

And he wouldn’t be able to let her go.

---

Y/N knew how to adapt. It was a necessity, a survival instinct she had perfected over the years.

She knew when to smile. She knew how to joke, how to adjust her tone to seem warm without being too familiar, to keep her distance without appearing cold.

Within the team, she was well-liked.

Derek Morgan had immediately taken her under his wing. He liked ambitious young recruits, the ones with fire in their veins and iron willpower. With him, Y/N allowed herself to be a little lighter, to exchange playful banter and feigned arrogance.

— You really insist on running every morning before a field day? he asked one day, watching her tie her laces.

— I mostly insist on not running out of breath behind you, she replied, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed and patted her shoulder.

With Hotch, she was impeccable. Respectful, disciplined. She knew he was testing her, observing how she handled pressure, and she had no intention of giving him any reason to doubt her.

JJ, on the other hand, was gentle and maternal, which made Y/N uncomfortable for reasons she couldn’t quite explain. But she appreciated her, and they worked well together.

Emily Prentiss was perhaps the one she felt closest to. Not that they talked much, but there was a silent understanding between them, an unspoken recognition of wounds they never named.

And then there was Penelope Garcia.

Penelope was a whirlwind of bright colors and exuberant cheerfulness, everything Y/N was not. And yet, Garcia had immediately taken her under her wing, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

— My sweet star, you’re far too serious, she declared in the first week. We’re going to have to work on that.

Y/N rolled her eyes.

— I’m fine, Garcia.

— That’s what every little broken heart says before I save them with cookies and a personalized playlist.

Y/N had laughed despite herself.

Garcia had that gift, the ability to make the air feel lighter, to erase shadows without even realizing it.

So Y/N let her. She accepted the sudden hugs, the affectionate nicknames, the sincere gestures. Because, in some way, it was nice.

It was a friendship she had never known before.

But with Spencer, it was a completely different story.

Y/N always felt when he was there.

He didn’t talk much when they were in a group, but she felt his gaze.

It wasn’t oppressive. It wasn’t perverse or domineering like others had been before him.

No. His gaze was a suspended question.

And she refused to answer it.

One evening, as she was leaving the office late, she heard footsteps behind her in the hallway.

She tensed, breath short. But when she turned around, it was only Reid.

He stopped immediately when he saw her expression.

— Sorry, he murmured.

She looked away, jaw clenched.

— Don’t follow me.

— I’m not following you, he simply replied.

She laughed, a joyless laugh.

— Of course.

He remained still, and she felt her anger boil.

— Why do you do this, Reid? she whispered.

— Do what?

— Staring. Insisting.

He blinked, genuinely lost.

— Because you haunt me.

Silence fell like a heavy weight.

Y/N felt something tighten in her chest. A deep fear. A vertigo.

She took a step back.

— Stop this.

— Stop what?

— Trying to understand me.

He said nothing.

Because he couldn’t. Because he didn’t understand.

And she would never let him.

---

Months passed.

Y/N was integrating well into the team. She was no longer just the "new recruit"; she was a respected profiler whose intuition and keen observation made a difference in the field. Even Hotch, who was sparing with compliments, had implied that she belonged among them.

And yet, something in her remained on edge.

She laughed with Morgan, exchanged knowing looks with Prentiss, accepted Garcia’s suffocating hugs without flinching. But it was just a mask, a dance she had mastered to perfection.

There was only one person who refused to dance with her.

Spencer Reid.

He still watched her with that intensity, that silent obsession she hated as much as she feared. He didn’t understand her. He never would.

And yet, he remained.

Watching.

Searching.

Trying to uncover a secret she would never reveal.

But life at the BAU wasn’t just about the quiet tension between them. There were also moments of lightness, absurd instances that made their work bearable.

Like the day Rossi got locked in his own office.

Garcia had tampered with the lock to prove a security system could be bypassed, and she had accidentally trapped their veteran inside.

— Garcia, open this door immediately! Rossi thundered, furious.

— Oh my God, I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die! Garcia kept repeating, frantically tapping at her keyboard.

Y/N and Morgan were in tears from laughter.

Reid, on the other hand, leaned towards her, a smirk on his lips.

— Technically, he could survive for days with the snacks he hides in his bottom drawer.

She shot him a dark look, but deep down, she had to bite her cheek to keep from smiling.

Then there was the case of the kitten in the office.

Garcia had found a stray cat near the FBI building and had secretly brought it into her office.

— Just for one night! she pleaded.

Except the cat escaped and caused chaos throughout the floor.

Hotch caught Y/N and Garcia trying to lure the animal with a piece of turkey stolen from Reid’s sandwich.

— Don’t tell me there’s a cat in here…

— There’s a cat in here, Reid confirmed, turning a page in his book, unbothered.

— It has a white paw! Y/N added enthusiastically, earning an incredulous look from Hotch.

In the end, it was Prentiss who caught the creature with a dexterity that suggested past experience in animal rescue.

— I don’t even want to know, Hotch concluded before walking away.

Reid watched as Y/N gently stroked the cat’s head.

— You like it.

— Who wouldn’t?

— You don’t usually let yourself be swayed so easily.

She lifted her head towards him, her smile slowly fading.

— Maybe I’m more complicated than you think.

He said nothing.

Because he already knew.

That night, Reid couldn’t sleep.

He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind refusing to grant him rest.

Y/N.

She occupied his every thought.

He wanted to understand why. Why her, why this hostility that didn’t feel like simple dislike?

He could analyze a criminal in minutes, dissect a lie with clinical precision. But with her… he couldn’t.

She hated him. He felt it in her gaze, in the tension of her jaw when he spoke.

And yet, sometimes, there was something else. A crack.

One evening, as they were finishing a report late at a café near the FBI, she had slightly dozed off, resting her head on her hand.

Reid had wanted to wake her, but he stopped.

She looked… peaceful.

But also terribly fragile.

And something in him tightened.

He knew she was hiding something.

And he knew he would never find out what.

It was unbearable.

He ran a hand over his face and sat on the edge of his bed, his heart pounding too hard.

She haunted him.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Y/N felt that obsession too.

She saw it in the way Reid looked at her, in how he kept trying to talk to her despite her cold responses.

But what she couldn’t understand… was why she didn’t push him away more violently.

She was used to keeping men at a distance. To shutting them down with a sharp smile or a biting remark.

But with him, it was different.

He was patient. Too patient.

And that scared her.

One night, after a grueling mission, she found herself in Garcia’s office.

— You want to talk about it, my sweet star?

Y/N tensed.

— Talk about what?

— About whatever’s eating at you.

She wanted to lie. To say she was fine.

But Garcia was a magician, able to see beyond masks.

— It’s Reid, isn’t it?

Y/N’s head snapped up, shocked.

— What?

— You’re mad at him. But not for what he’s done. For what he is.

Silence fell, heavy.

Garcia took her hands, her gaze soft but piercing.

— I don’t know what you’ve been through, Y/N. But I do know you’re stronger than whatever haunts you.

Y/N felt something crack inside her.

But she said nothing.

Because she couldn’t.

Because some wounds weren’t meant to be shared.

A few days later, Reid tried to talk to her again.

And she snapped.

They were alone in a conference room when he said something. She didn’t even remember what.

But it was too much.

— What do you want, Reid?!

He stepped back, startled by the violence in her voice.

— I just want to understand…

— There’s nothing to understand!

Her heart was pounding. She hated him. She despised him.

Because he reminded her too much of…

No.

She wasn’t allowed to think about that.

She shot him one last glare before storming out.

But Reid remained frozen, a cold shiver running down his spine.

Because for the first time, he had seen something other than anger in her eyes.

He had seen fear.

And that changed everything.

---

Spencer Reid didn’t know what to do anymore. Y/N hated him, that was obvious. But that night, as he returned home, he realized it wasn’t the contempt that haunted him. It wasn’t even her anger. It was her fear. Because he had seen it. Just for a fraction of a second, before she slammed the door. And it had turned his stomach upside down. He wasn’t stupid. He knew how to recognize the signs of trauma. He carried the scars himself. Y/N was hiding something. Something enormous. Something that, in one way or another, was connected to him. But he didn’t know what. And he never would. Because if one thing was clear, it was that she would rather see him disappear than talk to him. So why couldn’t he stop holding on to her? Why did he feel this irrational, senseless need to understand her, to fix her? He sat on his couch, head in his hands. He felt... lost. And that was a sensation he hated.

The next day, Y/N tried not to think about him. She buried herself in work, flipping through files, studying criminal profiles with an intensity bordering on obsession. But even there, in the relative calm of the BAU headquarters, she could feel him. Spencer Reid. Sitting at his desk, silent, but always present. Like a shadow behind her. Like a ghost she couldn’t exorcise. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Don’t think. Don’t feel. She could do it. She had to do it. She was going to make it. Until Garcia burst into the room like a colorful tornado.

"Okay, everyone, mandatory coffee break!"

Morgan looked up from his screen, amused.

"We’re in the middle of work, Garcia."

"Correction: you’re in the middle of work. I’m in the middle of an emotional disaster because my baby cat refused to eat his kibble this morning, and I need a pick-me-up."

Prentiss chuckled.

"Poor Garcia."

"You don’t understand, my children. This is an existential crisis."

Y/N smiled slightly, grabbing her coffee cup. But as she stood up to follow the others, her eyes met Reid’s. And there, just for a fraction of a second, she saw something in his eyes. Something sad. Something unbearable. She looked away, fists clenched. And left the room without a word.

The tension between them had become a problem. Y/N felt it. Reid knew it. And everyone could see it. It was Hotch who finally broke the silence. One evening, after a particularly exhausting day, he called Y/N into his office.

"Sit down."

She obeyed, sitting up straight. He studied her for a moment, fingers intertwined under his chin.

"I’ve noticed you have a problem with Reid."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"No, sir."

"Don’t lie."

She gritted her teeth. Hotch sighed, lowering his voice slightly.

"Listen, I’m not going to force you to talk about it. But let me be clear: we’re a team. And a team that doesn’t function well is a team that puts lives at risk."

Y/N lowered her gaze.

"I understand."

"Then find a way to fix it."

She nodded and left, her heart pounding.

She could have ignored Hotch’s warning. She could have kept pretending nothing was wrong. But that night, as she was leaving the office, she found Reid in the parking lot. Sitting on the hood of his car, staring into space. He looked... tired. Exhausted. As if this silent war between them had drained all his energy. She should have left. She should have pretended she didn’t see him. But her feet carried her toward him before she even realized it.

"Why are you still here?"

He lifted his head.

"I could ask you the same question."

She crossed her arms.

"Seriously, Reid. What do you want?"

He hesitated. Then sighed.

"I want you to stop hating me."

The shock was brutal. She took a step back, breath caught.

"I don’t..."

"Yes, you do. I know you do. But I don’t know why."

She closed her eyes, feeling panic rise. No. Not now. Not like this. She took a deep breath, trying to regain control. Then, slowly, she lifted her head.

"It’s better this way, Reid."

"Better for who?"

She didn’t answer. Because she couldn’t. She turned away, walking away quickly. But this time, Reid didn’t let her go.

"Wait."

She stopped.

"I don’t know what I did to deserve this."

His voice was shaky. Sincere.

"But if you think that will stop me from worrying about you... then you don’t know me as well as you think."

Y/N felt a burning in her throat. A dull pain in her chest. She said nothing. She didn’t turn around. She walked away into the night, knowing full well that this was a battle she wouldn’t be able to run from forever. Because Spencer Reid wouldn’t let go. And a part of her no longer knew if she wanted him to give up... or to keep fighting.

---

2:37 AM. Y/N’s phone vibrated insistently on her nightstand, pulling her from a deep sleep. She opened her eyes, still groggy, and reached for the device.

HOTCH: URGENT. EVERYONE TO HQ. IMMEDIATELY.

She groaned, sitting up, her vision still blurry.

“Shit…”

Without thinking, she threw on a large black coat over her silk pajamas and hastily tied her hair into a messy ponytail. She neither had the energy nor the patience to get properly dressed.

Arriving in front of the FBI building, she realized she wasn’t the only one caught off guard. Garcia was just stepping out of a taxi, her oversized orange coat poorly buttoned, revealing pink unicorn-patterned pajamas. Her glasses were askew, and she clutched a cup of coffee like her life depended on it.

When she spotted Y/N, she squinted behind her colorful lenses.

"You also decided fashion was overrated?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, glancing at Garcia from head to toe.

"I think we just revolutionized the FBI’s dress code."

Garcia smirked and hooked her arm through Y/N’s as they entered the building.

"Remind me why we do this job again?"

"My memory fails me at this hour."

As they stepped into the briefing room, they found the rest of the team, all visibly exhausted. Morgan had his head resting on the table, Prentiss was yawning over her file, and even Rossi seemed to be battling sleep.

But it was Reid who caught Y/N’s attention.

Already awake. Already fully dressed. Already focused.

He sat upright, a coffee cup in hand, flipping through files as if he had never gone to bed. When he briefly looked up at her, she felt his gaze linger a second too long.

She frowned.

"What?" she snapped.

Reid blinked and immediately looked away, clearly caught in the act.

"Nothing."

She rolled her eyes and sat as far from him as possible.

That’s when Hotch entered the room.

The Ohio monster case was beginning.

Hotch turned on the main screen, and faces appeared. Women. Children. Broken families.

Y/N’s stomach twisted as she saw the photos of them before they vanished.

They were smiling. Laughing.

And now…

"Eight mothers. Eight children," Hotch began gravely. "All disappeared under similar circumstances."

He pointed to a series of images on the whiteboard.

"The MO is always the same. He takes the mother first. Leaves the children alone for two days, then comes back for them."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Y/N already felt nausea rising.

"Then he forces them to make a choice."

Morgan leaned on the table, jaw clenched.

"What kind of choice?"

JJ briefly closed her eyes before answering.

"Either the mother kills her own children… or he rapes her in front of them."

The silence was deafening.

Garcia immediately looked away, gripping her coffee cup until her fingers turned white. Prentiss closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Rossi let out a long sigh, shaking his head.

But it was Y/N’s expression that caught Reid’s attention.

She didn’t react.

She remained still, eyes locked on the screen, her face eerily blank.

Too blank.

Reid furrowed his brows slightly.

He knew that kind of silence.

He knew that kind of look.

It was the look of someone trying to lock everything deep inside.

Hotch shattered the frozen atmosphere with a firm tone.

"He films everything and sends the videos to the fathers."

Y/N finally looked away, clenching her fists under the table.

This man…

This monster…

She wanted to destroy him.

"We leave for Ohio immediately," Hotch announced.

No one objected.

They all knew every minute counted.

And that the horror was only beginning.

They arrived in Ohio at dawn, greeted by a sheriff with exhausted eyes.

"Agent Hotchner."

Hotch shook his hand.

"Tell me what we know."

The sheriff gestured for them to follow him to his office, where an entire wall was covered with photos and reports.

Y/N felt an invisible weight pressing on her shoulders as she looked at the images of the missing mothers.

These women.

These children.

She crossed her arms, trying to ignore the cold rage building inside her.

Then she felt a gaze.

She turned slightly.

Reid.

Again.

He was watching her, brows slightly furrowed, as if trying to figure something out.

She clenched her jaw.

"Got a problem, Reid?" she murmured coldly.

He hesitated.

Then, softly:

"This is affecting you more than other cases."

A cold shiver ran down her spine.

She hated this.

She hated how observant he was.

"You think you know everything, huh?" she snapped. "Well, let me tell you something: you don’t know shit about me. So stop looking at me like you’ve cracked my damn secret."

She shot him one last dark look before walking away.

Reid remained still, troubled.

He didn’t understand why, but he knew one thing:

This case was awakening something in her.

Something she didn’t want to face.

And that, more than anything else, deeply worried him.

---

The team settled into the conference room of the local police station, their files scattered across the large wooden table. The sheriff had provided all available information, but the case was a nightmare. Eight mothers. Eight children. Eight broken families. And no trace of the killer.

Hotch stood up and studied the photos pinned to the whiteboard.

"We know he targets single mothers. All between 28 and 35 years old, all with one or two young children. He watches them for a while before attacking."

"How does he choose his victims?" Prentiss asked, arms crossed.

Rossi tapped on the report in front of him.

"They all have jobs that require a lot of public interaction. Teachers, waitresses, nurses, social workers…" He paused. "He wants women who seem approachable. Easy to engage with."

Y/N spoke for the first time.

"Which means he inserts himself into their lives long before taking them."

All eyes turned to her.

She pointed at the photos.

"Look at these women. They’re all smiling in these pictures. They look happy, social. This guy doesn’t go after isolated or vulnerable women. He wants the strong ones."

Morgan slowly nodded.

"Because he wants to break them."

Silence.

Reid was watching Y/N closely.

His gaze was cold, analytical, but filled with something else.

He knew that tone. He could tell when someone was speaking from their heart.

She wasn’t just profiling the killer.

She understood him.

And that unsettled him.

Hotch brought the discussion back on track.

"Garcia, check if any of the victims reported a suspicious individual in their surroundings before the abduction."

"Already digging, boss."

She typed furiously on her keyboard, her glasses slipping down her nose.

"But so far, nothing."

Y/N ran a hand over her face, frustrated.

"We’re missing something…"

Reid, who had remained silent until now, murmured,

"There has to be a connection."

He stood up, walked to the board, and stared at the victims' photos.

A detail. A clue.

And suddenly, something clicked.

"The schools."

Everyone turned to him.

"Look." He pointed at the children. "They all attended local public schools."

Prentiss frowned.

"You think he’s scouting them there?"

Reid nodded.

"It’s an easy way to observe them without drawing attention. He could be posing as a parent, a school employee, a delivery worker…"

Hotch processed the information quickly.

"We’ll start there. Garcia, get us a list of staff and frequent visitors at the schools these kids attended."

"Consider it done."

The investigation had taken a new turn.

And for the first time in hours…

They had a lead.

A few hours later, Garcia called them back.

"I might have something."

Her voice was tense.

"All these schools have one thing in common."

"What is it?" Hotch asked.

"A man."

She pulled up a photo on the screen.

A plain, forgettable face. A man in his forties, short brown hair, discreet glasses.

"His name is William Harrow," Garcia explained. "Maintenance worker. He does repairs in several schools in the area."

Y/N stared at the photo, a cold shiver running down her spine.

"Does he have a record?" Morgan asked.

"Nothing major. Just an old harassment complaint, dismissed."

Reid frowned.

"It’s too perfect. A job that gives him access to school buildings, an unremarkable appearance…"

Y/N murmured almost to herself,

"And the ability to disappear under the radar."

Hotch made an immediate decision.

"We’re paying him a visit."

The team arrived at Harrow’s listed address. A small house on the outskirts of town, with an unkempt yard and closed shutters.

Morgan and Prentiss positioned themselves at the back while Hotch, Y/N, and Reid knocked on the door.

Silence.

Then…

Footsteps.

The door opened slightly.

A man appeared in the doorway, eyes tired, wary.

"Yes?"

Hotch showed his badge.

"FBI. We’d like to ask you a few questions."

William Harrow didn’t flinch.

"About what?"

Y/N studied him carefully.

His posture. His gaze. Every micro-expression.

And something in his eyes unsettled her.

Reid, beside her, noticed her shift in demeanor.

"It’s about the schools where you work. The missing children."

Harrow raised an eyebrow.

"I don’t see how that concerns me."

His tone was calm. Too calm.

Y/N clenched her fists slightly.

"Can we come in?" Hotch asked.

A long silence.

Then Harrow opened the door wider.

"Be my guest."

Y/N’s instincts screamed.

Something was off.

And she knew this was just the beginning.

---

The inside of William Harrow’s house was clean. Too clean. Not a single personal photo. No children’s toys. Nothing that showed a trace of life. Y/N let her gaze sweep across the main room while Hotch and Reid asked the usual questions.

"You work at several schools, correct?" Hotch asked.

"Yes," Harrow replied, sitting calmly on his couch.

Reid observed his body language with an almost unsettling intensity.

"Have you ever had any contact with the children’s mothers?"

A slight smile appeared on Harrow’s face.

"I exchange polite words, like everyone does."

Y/N said nothing.

She studied.

Every blink. Every hand movement.

And her instincts screamed that he was lying.

But she couldn’t prove it.

Hotch continued, "Where were you during the last disappearances?"

"At home."

"Can anyone confirm that?"

"No one."

Harrow was still smiling.

Reid and Y/N exchanged a glance.

No alarm. No involuntary slip.

He wasn’t playing the outraged suspect.

He wasn’t trying to appear innocent either.

He was waiting.

As if he knew they wouldn’t find anything.

And he was right.

After an hour of questioning and a legal search of the house, the team had no choice but to leave.

Nothing.

No physical evidence. No misstep in his answers.

Just an intuition that wasn’t enough to arrest him.

Morgan, who had been waiting outside, whistled when he saw their expressions.

"So?"

Hotch shook his head.

"Nothing useful."

Morgan grumbled.

"This guy is guilty. I can feel it."

Y/N, arms crossed, was still staring at the house behind them.

"So can I."

But it wasn’t enough.

They needed proof.

In the car, silence stretched.

Then Reid murmured, almost pensively, "He wants to frustrate us."

Y/N turned to him.

"What do you mean?"

Reid tapped his fingers against his thigh, thinking out loud.

"He was perfectly calm. He didn’t try to deny anything outright. He let us do our job… Because he knew we had nothing on him."

Y/N clenched her fists.

"That means he’s going to do it again."

Hotch took a deep breath.

"Yes. And the next victim may already be chosen."

The silence that followed was heavier than ever.

They had to stop him.

Before it was too late.

---

The sun was beginning to set over the small town in Ohio as Morgan and Y/N made their way to a run-down garage on the outskirts. It was where William Harrow had applied for a second job a few months earlier before mysteriously disappearing off the radar.

"You think we’ll find anything here?" Y/N asked as she stepped out of the car.

Morgan shrugged, eyes fixed on the building’s entrance.

"Anything he doesn’t want us to find."

They ducked under the partially open metal shutter and stepped into the dusty workshop. Cars in various states of repair, scattered tools, the smell of oil and metal…

A man in his fifties, wearing grease-stained overalls, looked up at them.

"Need a hand?"

Morgan stepped forward and flashed his badge.

"FBI. We’re investigating a suspect who may have worked here. William Harrow."

The man frowned.

"Harrow? Yeah, he applied a few months back. But he never showed up for work."

Y/N exchanged a look with Morgan.

"Why not?"

"No idea," the man replied, wiping his hands on a rag. "Seemed serious at first, then he just… vanished. No call, no excuse. Never heard from him again."

Morgan nodded, but before he could ask another question…

A voice interrupted them.

"You’re looking for Harrow?"

A chill ran down Y/N’s spine.

She knew that voice.

Slowly, she turned.

And she saw William Harrow.

Standing near the exit, dressed in jeans and a light shirt, as if he had been expecting them.

"You and your team sure are persistent," he said with a polite smile.

Y/N immediately felt his gaze on her.

Too intense. Too deliberate.

Morgan crossed his arms, ready to step in at the first sign of trouble.

"What are you doing here, Harrow?"

The man shrugged.

"I applied for a job here. Wanted to see if it was still available. But it seems like you’re more interested in me than the position."

His tone was light, but Y/N sensed the darkness beneath his words.

Harrow turned his gaze to her.

And he stared.

For too long.

As if he recognized her.

As if he knew something she didn’t.

"You, on the other hand…" he murmured.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat.

She forced herself not to look away.

"What about me?"

Harrow tilted his head slightly, studying her like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

Then, slowly, he smiled.

"We’ve met before, haven’t we?"

A shiver ran down her spine.

No.

That was impossible.

She had never seen this man before.

Never.

And yet…

Why did his words feel like they carried a hidden truth?

Morgan, sensing the tension, placed a hand on her shoulder.

"We should go."

Y/N didn’t respond immediately.

She stood there, facing Harrow, trying to read in his eyes what he was insinuating.

Then, slowly, she stepped back.

"Yeah. Let’s go."

But as she walked out of the garage, she still felt the weight of Harrow’s gaze on her.

And for the first time since this case began…

She felt afraid.

They had barely returned to the police station when the phone rang.

Hotch answered immediately.

"Hotchner."

Y/N and Morgan, still shaken from their encounter with Harrow, exchanged a glance.

But as they saw Hotch’s expression harden, Y/N knew before he even spoke.

Another woman had disappeared.

"He just took another mother," Hotch said as he hung up.

A cold silence fell over the room.

"When?" Rossi asked, already on his feet.

"About three hours ago," Hotch replied. "A neighbor noticed the front door was open, the lights were on, but no one was answering."

JJ rubbed her forehead.

"Which means we have…"

"Two days before he takes the children," Reid finished.

Y/N tensed.

Two days.

The countdown had begun.

They rushed to the scene immediately.

The victim’s home—Sarah Mitchell—was exactly as they had imagined.

A broken home in the dead of night.

The door slightly open.

No signs of struggle.

And a six-year-old boy curled up on his bed, too young to understand that his mother might never come back.

Y/N felt anger boil inside her.

She stared at the scattered toys on the floor, the school bag still sitting by the door.

A child waiting for his mother to wake him up in the morning.

But tomorrow morning, she wouldn’t be there.

Morgan clenched his jaw beside her.

"We have to find him."

"Yeah."

Reid, meanwhile, was staring at the floor.

Then he murmured, "He’s accelerating his cycle."

Y/N turned to him.

"What?"

Reid looked up, his mind racing.

"He’s been waiting weeks between abductions," he explained. "But now… he just took a woman while we were on his trail."

"He feels threatened," Hotch added.

"Or he wants to provoke us," Rossi said.

Y/N felt an invisible weight press down on her chest.

Two days.

They only had two days to stop the inevitable.

So she turned to Hotch.

"We don’t have time to wait. We need to take Harrow down now."

Hotch slowly nodded.

"Then let’s do it."

And they set off.

Towards the man who was already waiting for them.

---

The local precinct was heavy with tension that night. Fatigue and urgency made the air nearly unbreathable. Every officer on-site knew they were racing against time. With JJ absent, Y/N had been sent to speak with Matthew Mitchell, the ex-husband of the missing woman.

He sat in a small interrogation room, hands trembling, eyes bloodshot. The moment Y/N entered, he shot to his feet, desperate.

"Did you find her?!"

Y/N briefly closed her eyes before answering.

"Not yet."

He collapsed back onto the chair.

"Oh my God…" he murmured.

His entire body looked on the verge of breaking. He rubbed his face with shaking hands, as if trying to erase reality. Then, in a broken, desperate voice, he began to ramble.

"I’m nothing without her… Nothing."

Y/N remained still. She knew this pain. That abyss. That gaping void that swallowed everything.

He shook his head, eyes wet with tears.

"I heard what that psycho does to women… I don’t want her to go through that. I’d rather she be…"

He stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

Y/N swallowed.

He meant, I’d rather she be dead than suffer that.

She couldn’t blame him.

"She’s strong," she said softly.

"But not strong enough." He met her eyes. "No one is."

A shiver ran down Y/N’s spine.

He was right.

No one could ever be prepared to face what Harrow did to his victims.

And she had to stop him.

After the interview with Matthew, Y/N returned to the briefing room where the team was combing through every detail of the case.

Something nagged at her.

A feeling, a blurry thought lodged in the back of her mind.

Then, suddenly, it clicked.

"He has a daughter," she blurted out.

All eyes turned to her.

"What?" Rossi asked.

"Harrow. He has a daughter."

Spencer Reid frowned.

"But… we’ve investigated his family. He has no known children."

Y/N shook her head.

"Not officially. But look at the pattern." She scrolled through the case files on the computer. "He manages to lure children without a single direct witness. No signs of forced entry, no apparent threats."

Morgan caught on immediately.

"He doesn’t need to force them… He’s using someone they trust."

Y/N nodded.

"A teenage girl. She wouldn’t raise suspicion."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Then Hotch said the words they were all dreading.

"Where is young Mitchell?"

A chill ran through Y/N.

He was under supervision. Here, at the station.

But…

Why did she suddenly have a terrible feeling?

Then, she heard it.

A barely audible sound.

A muffled "Mommy."

She didn’t think.

She ran.

She tore down the hallway, the others right behind her.

She slammed open the door to the room where the little boy was supposed to be.

But he was gone.

Only an open window let in the cold night air.

Y/N felt her world tilt.

"NO."

She looked everywhere, her heartbeat slamming against her ribs.

His small backpack was still there.

His stuffed animal lay on the floor.

But he… he was missing.

"Shit…" Morgan muttered as he reached her.

Y/N froze, her breath caught in her throat.

She was the one who had heard the cry.

She should have run faster.

Reid stepped inside, his horrified gaze fixed on the window.

He knew what this meant.

They had just lost their only hope of finding Sarah Mitchell alive.

Y/N pressed against the wall, fingers trembling.

She had failed.

She felt anger, frustration, and most of all…

Fear.

Reid slowly approached her.

He wasn’t good at comforting people.

But he understood what she was feeling.

Softly, he murmured,

"This isn’t your fault."

But Y/N didn’t look at him.

Because deep down…

She wasn’t sure he was right.

Next part...

..................................................................................

[takusan-no-ai]

You need a lollipop

PAIRING: Ellen x Male Reader (Romantic) (Fluff)

SUMMARY: (Y/N) is a workaholic, and his girlfriend Ellen will force him to take a break.

“I saw this one SUPER cute nail polish online yesterday!” Ruby said while walking with her friends around campus. It was break time and so the four friends, Ruby, Monna, Lynn, and Ellen, decided to just walk and talk outside.

“Really? Send it to me later…,” Ellen replied. Monna and Lynn were having a mini convo of their own, and everyone was happy. Key word, was.

A large group of boys, likely in the track team as Ellen noted, came gunning straight for them. The girls were able to dodge, but the boy in front of them with his face in a book didn’t. And so he crashed right on top of Ellen, who was too tired to dodge again.

They both rubbed their foreheads, while Ellen’s friends were giggling in the background. She looked at them confused for a moment, and then she looked at the boy straddling her; (Y/N), sits in the seat at the front of class, voted most likely to be an overachiever. She also kinda liked him. Not a lot. Only a little. Really, just a little…

Her friends were aware of this, and only helped her up after the poor boy started freaking out about it. “Don’t worry, it’s those jocks fault, not yours. Besides, everyone else is fine.” Moona calmed the situation down naturally.

Ellen didn’t make eye contact with (Y/N), her face starting to get too warm for comfort after the whole ordeal. And she just knew her friends would tease her endlessly; the thought alone made Ellen puff out her cheeks.

Some days had passed since then, with Ellen’s eyes always drifting over towards (Y/N) during class. It wasn’t until she saw him especially tired that she grew worried of his health. Though she’d never admit it directly.

He was sitting at his desk, eyes heavy with bags, hair messy, and the tips of his fingers red from the hard grip of his pencil as he scribbled down unintelligible notes. Ellen walked over to him, her tail swaying slightly back and forth. She looked around the room, making sure her friends weren’t watching.

“Hey.” She said

He shook slightly, immediately turning around to look at her. “So-sorry. How long have you been there?” (Y/N) asked. Ellen rolled her eyes and handed him a lollipop. He made a confused expression.

“You clearly need one.” She thrusted it into his hand and walked away. Before she could flee the scene he grabbed her hand and forced eye contact with her.

“Thank you. My name’s (Y/N), what’s yours?” He asked, letting go of her.

“…hmm…Ellen.”

From then on the relationship progressed smoothly, and before Ellen knew it (her friends already betted on it happening) they both started dating.

Of course, Ellen still took note of his constant over working habits; she honestly never understood it. Why didn’t he sleep more often? Sleep is great. It recovers energy, can give sweet dreams, and lets you skip hours of the day. What wasn’t there to love about it?!

So, to keep him from being in an early grave, Ellen took it upon herself to graciously expend her own energy and keep him away from work. Karaoke, skipping class, listening to concerts, even just sleeping. It didn’t always work, but she did notice a change in habits with (Y/N).

He was more willing to take breaks, and would often text Ellen about his excitement to spend more time with his girlfriend.

“Hey pup, ready for a movie night?” He asked cheerfully; his eyes were burning bright, appearance clean enough where he could be mistaken for a celeb, and a cute smile to boot.

Ellen puffed out her cheeks, this was getting too much. Love was too energy draining, especially with (Y/N); her heart kept pounding every time she’s with him, which makes her exhausted, but she likes it so she stays, which makes her really exhausted. It was a never ending cycle. And yet she still loved it.

Ellen sat down next to him, placing her tail on his lap so he could hug it. “Yeah, movie nights are only fun when I’m with you.”

- Fin

[xximpressions]

can u do another Kelly severide series or even one shot it don’t matter

You know what? Bet 😊👍

Hope

Kelly Severide x reader

Summary: Sometimes, we all need a little hope.

Word Count: 1,289

A/N: Thanks for sending in this request! It was the motivation I needed to start writing again and I couldn't be more grateful 💜

Chicago Fire Masterlist

Next

_____________________________________________________________

It was just another day for those privileged enough to work at Firehouse 51.

Some members of Truck 81 were looking over and inspecting equipment. Those on Ambulance 61 were restocking supplies. Others, like the men of Squad 3, were sitting at their infamous table playing cards because there was a lull in between calls. Since the alarm had not gone off in a while, they were looking for a way to pass the time.

It truly would have been a day like any other, if not for the fact that you had just walked onto the apparatus floor minutes into their first game.

Squad 3’s Lieutenant, Kelly Severide, was forced to become curious enough to lower his cards and turn in his green chair in order to see what, or rather who, had inspired the various and amazed expressions on his men’s faces.

You had taken the last few steps to stand directly in front of their table, and you locked your gaze with the blue-eyed stranger once he had rotated around in his chair.

It was at that moment in which Kelly understood.

Simply put, you were beautiful.

As he tried to process the unexpected sight your arrival had created, you smiled and began to speak before he was prepared for you to do so.

“Hi, I’m here to see Chief Boden.”

You, and the rest of Squad 3, watched as their lieutenant unconsciously stared at you whilst being at a loss for words.

Unaware of his speechlessness, you waited another moment before following your previous statement up with, 

“...Would you be able to tell me where I might find him?”

While looking expectedly at Kelly.

That seemed to snap him out of his trance long enough for him to give you the directions you were asking for.

Once you had thanked him, you continued on your way into the building oblivious to the eyes that followed.

However, once the door shut behind you, all eyes shifted to the Squad Lieutenant.

“So, Severide…” began Capp with an amused smirk on his face, “What was that about?”

Picking up and focusing on his cards once more in order to avoid the staring of his men,

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Was all Severide said as an evasive response.

After sharing humored looks of disbelief with his fellow colleagues around the table, Cruz decided to be the one to redundantly clarify,

“C’mon Lieutenant! I have never seen anyone make you go speechless like that.”

Wanting to discuss anything but this, Kelly all but growled out,

“Look, are we gonna play or not?”

His men quickly shared another glance amongst themselves before agreeing to drop the subject.

While the card game did continue, it now felt distracting as Kelly kept flickering his eyes to the door you had gone through as more time passed.

Because now, his mind wanted to focus on the kindness of your gaze.

The sincerity of your smile.

He knew, with absolute certainty, that these things would be forever imprinted in his mind even if he never laid his eyes on you again.

So it could be that he was getting antsy the longer you were having your conversation with the Chief because he definitely wanted a second chance at saying more than a few stuttered words to you.  

Unfortunately, the odds were not in his favor as the alarm finally blared overhead for the first time in hours.

“Truck 81, Squad 3, Ambulance 61, car accident at…”

Racing from their chairs towards their trucks, Squad 3, along with the rest of the house, hustled into their turnout gear and pulled off once everyone was seated inside their respective vehicles.

As the firetruck exited the driveway, Kelly’s quick glance into the sideview mirror on the passenger-side made him do a double-take as he caught a quick glimpse of you.

Having exited the firehouse with the Chief following just behind, Severide watched as you two shared a brief hug before you each said your departures which sparked his curiosity all the more.

Whoever you were, it was clear that his hope for a conversation would not be met on this day as the truck turned and sped off towards their destination.

Not wanting to dwell on the missed opportunity for too long, Severide looked forward in his seat and readied himself to handle the accident that was just ahead.

Luckily, there hadn’t been any serious damage done, so no one was hurt. That being said, the rest of the hours in the shift passed by relatively quickly once they returned to the house.

His two days off also breezed by, and soon he was once again seated in the briefing room on another Monday morning with Chief Boden making announcements and giving updates.

“...and finally,” he said in his gruff voice, “I would like to introduce you all to someone who’s going to be spending some time with us here at 51.”

Following the hand gesture Chief made signaling this someone over, Kelly’s eyes almost doubled in size when he recognized the mysterious person as you.

You were the one from last shift!

So surprised, Severide almost missed the reason for your being here as you began to speak.

“Hey everyone! I'm a contractor with the CFDs public relations team, and it’s my job to make you guys look as great as possible in the content we’ll be creating. That said, I’ll be taking some videos and photographs as I shadow you guys for a few shifts. So don’t mind me! I’ll be so invisible, you won’t even notice that I’m here,” you finished with an assured smile.

Kelly’s mind couldn’t help but to immediately disagree since he knew noticing you seemed to be all he could do at this moment in time.

Luckily, Boden started to wrap up the meeting by sending a brief thanks your way then also made sure to say,

“I expect all of you to treat our guest with the utmost respect. Her father and I go way back, so if there’s resistance of any kind, you will hear from me.”

Though your smile was a little more bashful now, you still took the time to say—to the room’s surprise,

“Thanks, Uncle Wallace.”

Sending a paternal grin your way, he easily replied,

“Anytime,” with a small nod before he turned back to the rest of the room and said, “Any questions?”

Of course, it had to be Herrman who raised his hand with a look of confusion on his face to ask the one question they were all thinking in a flabbergasted tone of voice,

“Ummmm…Uncle?!?”

Letting out an amused chuckle, you decided to be the one to answer for the both of you.

“Yes, Chief is actually my Godfather. That’s why your firehouse is the first one that I’m shadowing since I know he runs a tight ship. Like he said, he and my father go way back, so I’ve known him since I was a baby—

“—which makes her family,” Boden interjected with a note of amused, but serious finality before saying, “Understood?”

He sent his commanding gaze around the room to ensure his point got across and was met with multiple affirmings of, 

“Yes Chief!”

“Then thank you all for your time this morning. That’s it for today’s briefing.”

Kelly was the first out the door once the meeting had concluded. Making it to the safety of the bathrooms, he hunched over the sink as he was hit with the startling realization that:

A) He had a crush!?

And B) It was on someone his boss saw as his niece!

Making eye contact with himself in the mirror, he had one thought going around in his head,

“Man, I am so screwed.”  

Next

[maxdibert]

What do you think Snape and Harry's relationship would have been like if Snape had survived? Would Harry have thanked him personally for all the work he had done? Because at the age of 30, he was grateful enough to name his son after Snape. Would they have been able to get closer and would Snape have been some kind of a mentor to Harry? Sorry if you answered it before, I didn't find it ;)

I think Harry has a great sense of forgiveness when he understands people's motivations or when he sees that someone truly regrets their actions. I mean, just as he’s a guy who can develop strong affections or grudges very quickly and irrationally, holding onto them fiercely, he’s also someone who, when he sets his pride aside and humbles himself, can see beyond the surface and be incredibly empathetic and compassionate. He’s a Leo, after all—first, he puffs out his chest, then he actually thinks about it.

Clearly, Harry understood Snape’s reasons after seeing his memories, and he learned not only to appreciate everything he did but also to be grateful for it. And Harry is grateful—he’s not the kind of person who, if he truly feels indebted to someone, will just act all proud and dismissive. That’s not his personality. So I genuinely think he would want to express to Severus that he appreciates everything he did for him and that he’s sorry for misjudging him. Because Harry can be quite arrogant and overconfident at times, but he also has a great ability to recognize his mistakes and admit when he was wrong. And we’re talking about an 18-year-old Harry here—someone who’s been through a war, who has matured a lot—so this behavior seems perfectly in character for him, honestly.

The problem is that Severus is not like Harry. Severus is a dysfunctional, prideful, raging diva who recoils from vulnerability like a cat from water. So I can just imagine the poor boy standing in front of him, sincerely thanking him with the best of intentions, while Severus just stares at him with a face that says, What are you doing? Why are you talking? What are you talking about? Why are you talking to me?—and then promptly telling him to piss off.

You have to understand that Severus didn’t do what he did for Harry. He protected Harry because of Lily, and then, as things progressed, he came to realize that there was something bigger and more important than his guilt, his revenge, or his debt to Lily. He ultimately embraced something much greater: a sense of duty toward the greater good. Severus shifted from an entirely individualistic perspective to inheriting, even after death, Dumbledore’s vision of doing whatever it takes and sacrificing whatever is necessary to achieve the greater good. Otherwise, he never would have agreed to Dumbledore’s plan, which involved sacrificing Harry. He doesn’t accept it because he hates the kid, and he doesn’t question it because he cares about him—it has nothing to do with the boy. Nothing Severus has ever done has ever been about Harry. His hatred isn’t about Harry, it’s about James. His determination to save his skin isn’t about Harry, it’s about Lily. And the fact that he ultimately follows Dumbledore’s plan isn’t about Harry either—it’s about Severus finally understanding that the greater good must come before personal desires.

His relationship with Harry is incredibly triggering for him because it directly ties back to two traumatic events from his teenage years—being bullied by James and losing Lily, who was essential to his development. It’s too complicated for him, which is why he doesn’t see Harry as an individual but as the sum of multiple traumas.

I think Severus would be very reluctant to have any kind of relationship with him and would probably take an attitude of, Fine, fine, I accept your apologies, everything’s good, now leave me alone, wanting to push Harry as far away as possible. Because, in the end, he’s already fulfilled his lingering debt to Lily, and having to keep seeing Harry’s face isn’t something he’d be particularly fond of. And it’s not fair, because I truly believe Harry would want to have at least a decent relationship with him. Maybe not be best friends or have a mentor-student dynamic, but at least maintain something cordial. After all, Harry has always sought father figures, and every single one he’s had (Sirius, Dumbledore…) has ended up dead. But I don’t think Severus would be mentally or emotionally prepared to have a functional relationship with the kid.

He would probably settle for pretending to be civil—just enough so that Harry wouldn’t be a pain in his ass—but every time Harry tried to get closer, Severus would react in an evasive, almost childish way. Because Severus is a damn child when it comes to confronting his past issues. In fact, I even think it would piss him off that Harry would go around advocating for him, like, Oh great, now the damn kid is out here talking me up—why won’t he just leave me alone? Because Severus is a grump with the personality of a cranky old man.

I don’t see them having a particularly close relationship, but not because Harry wouldn’t try—just because Snape is an absolute bastard. I mean, I adore him for that, but he’s a massive bastard. And incredibly proud.

[ilovetheriddler]

Omg omg omg!!!

Data and horror movies and smut??

Or Riddler and horror movies and smut?? (Dano or Gotham Riddler preference)

Thank you for sending a request! I hope that you enjoy it!

Halloween Fic Event.

Fear of Rejection and Haunted Dolls.

(Edward Nashton x F!Reader)

Contents: NSFW 18+ 🔞🔞🔞 Smut, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, nervousness.

You were quite pleased when Edward invited you over to his place to marathon some horror films, as someone who enjoyed them, you saw this as a double win, you'd get to watch some hopefully good films and snuggle up with your boyfriend. Overall, it is incredibly ideal for a date in your opinion.

The first few hours of you being over there for the day was great. You had already watched Saw, the original Halloween, and now you were on Annabelle. Now, while you enjoyed horror overall and loved the amount of work that went into horror movies.... you weren't fond of haunted dolls. In fact, you were slightly afraid of them.

Edward couldn't help but let out an amused chuckle every now, and then whenever you'd jump or cling to him, he picked this film out, knowing how much it would make you jump. After a few minutes of simply taking in your wide-eyed expression, he spoke up.

"You know...... you look really cute when you're all jumpy like this...."

"I am not jumpy! I'm... reasonably afraid of haunted dolls.... is there something wrong with that?!"

"Not really.... I actually find it endearing that something like this scares you so much. It's interesting..."

The two of you sat in silence as you continued watching the movie, the tension building for two entirely different reasons, with You being nervous over the haunted doll film and him being nervous over the idea of making a move on you tonight.

It ultimately reached a breaking point. However, as you moved closer to him as a result of being startled, your leg just barely rubbed up against his crotch, but it was enough to set him off. You let out a surprised yelp as you were suddenly pushed back and pinned against the couch, his hands tightly grasping your wrists, keeping them pinned near the sides of your head. His gaze was intense as he stared directly into your eyes.

".....C-can I touch you? Please...? Would that be okay?"

"... Of course, I've told you that you can repeatedly now."

"I know that.... but... I um.... I've never actually... been fully intimate with someone in that way before... and I don't want to mess everything up..."

You felt your eyes widen as his words fully sank in and dawned on you. He was a virgin and was afraid of not being able to satisfy you. You found it slightly amusing how much Edward often worried about these types of things but also understood his anxiousness over it.

"Eddie.... I promise you that you won't mess it up, just do whatever feels right, and I'm sure it'll be perfect."

He was quiet for a moment, thinking over what he wanted to next, before he leaned down and pressed his lips softly against yours, choosing to take a cautious and gentle approach to showing you his affection. After a bit, he slowly began kissing down your neck, unbuttoning your shirt as he went.

Once it was off and thrown onto the floor, he quickly attempted to undo your bra's clasp, struggling with it for a few moments before getting it undone and off. He took in the sight of you underneath him, his breath already coming out heavy and labored.

"O-oh.... oh wow.... you're so beautiful...."

His hesitantly brought his hands up to your chest, cautiously moving one of his hands over your breast, giving it a light squeeze as to test the waters to see how you'd react. He took the pleased sound you let out as a sign to continue.

The next handful of minutes he spent paying attention to your breasts with his hands and mouth was heavenly. He had an excited, lustful, and needy look in his eyes as he went about him actions gleefully. However, once he moved down more and had taken off your pants and underwear, he was suddenly a lot more nervous again. You ran your hands down his bare chest, stopping at his waist and slowly unbuckling his belt. His voice carried an underlying nervous tone as he spoke.

"A-are you sure it'll be fine?"

"I'm positive, Eddie. I want you."

You quickly pulled down his pants and boxers, and he let out an embarrassed squeal, his face becoming horribly flushed as your gaze settled on his hardened cock, a generous amount of precum already dripping out of it, much to his embarrassment. You had a strong feeling that he wouldn't last long once he was inside of you, which you didn't mind since it would be his first time experiencing something like this.

He settled himself between your legs, his gaze meeting yours for a moment before he asked you something.

"Um... Should I... you know um... use my fingers first? Or... am I just supposed to... put it in?"

"Honestly, with I'm feeling right now, either is fine, whichever one feels more like what you can handle doing."

He thought about it for a moment, ultimately torn between the two options, but an overwhelming need to know what it felt like to be buried inside of you won out in the end, as he cautiously positioned his cock at your entrance, a shiver running up his spine as the tip rubbed against your folds just barely, before suddenly thrusting in without any hesitation, He immediately realized how bad of an idea it was to go all in at once with his lack of experience as his eyes went as wide as plates and his breathing became incredibly ragged.

"F-fuck.... Y-you feel so... good... A-ah... This is... a lot more overwhelming than I thought it would be...."

You drapped your arms over his shoulders as he remained still, attempting to adjust to the feeling and also calm down slightly, he didn't want to cum so quickly, he wanted to last at least a bit longer. After a few minutes, he slowly started moving, just barely at first before he eventually got into a decent rhythm, until he ended up Cumming only a few minutes later, much to his embarrassment.

You had to spend the rest of the evening reassuring him that it was really good and that it was okay that he came so quickly, he needed a lot of reassure, a lot of it, but that was alright, you didn't mind.

[fernsplaysthings]

Oops, double sappy, soppy Birds. Started writing this a few weeks before TFS and wanted to sketch something that vaguely went with it.

I'm over here making some real self-indulgent oc x canon shit.

Kestral had been in some kind of way since Crow had declared - insisted - he was going into the Pale Heart alone. It made sense; the link he shared with his twin was about as unique of an advantage as the Vanguard was going to get and turning it down was akin to shooting themselves in the foot. Not that Kestral had disagreed out loud. They could be pragmatic, bordering on cold sometimes and he knew that was coming from a place deep down and centuries old. In fact he’d appreciated it at the time with Mara and Petra present because it meant he’d hold his resolve despite not quite being able to meet their eyes.

In the seconds after the Queen and her Wrath left that changed. A brief glimpse of an expression Crow knew he wasn’t supposed to see before the stoic facade slipped back on. Something like pain, fear, and heartbreak. Before he could breathe a word of reassurance they were gone.

He hadn’t seen them since.

Only twenty-four hours had passed but it was unusual for them to not spend their on-world time together at Kestral’s apartment or out doing what they liked to call ‘normal people things’. He hadn’t wanted to go without talking to them first. Giving something. Asking something. And as he made his way through the residential blocks of The Last City his heart sank into his stomach, a brown paper package clutched a little tighter to his side.

Kestral wasn’t angry, he knew that much. It was hard not to read their intentions quite so clearly after spending all that time around them and he didn’t doubt for a second that they had exactly the same sensitivity. After all they were both Hunters, known for a keen eye and sharp intuition. They were hurting and scared and they still couldn’t parse those heavy feelings into conversation as well as he could. Saint had told him he wore his heart on his sleeve and once he’d gotten close to The Young Wolf he understood exactly what that meant. He supposed if anyone knew about loving someone deeply reserved and so intricately tied to their image, their work, it was going to be Saint-14.

He tossed his keycard to Kestral’s apartment on the little table beside him, shutting and locking the door behind as he expected to be spending the afternoon alone. It wasn’t until he placed the package on the coffee table by their sofa and turned toward the kitchen that he saw them, hunched over the kitchen sink, face dripping, hair stuck to their cheeks where they’d obviously splashed themself.

And the red puffy eyes of someone who’d finally reached the raw part of their feelings.

He had to broach the topic now, even if he trusted them to reach it eventually. Time was running away faster than he’d anticipated and suddenly the end of the universe, daunting as it was despite his usual assuredness, seemed ever more looming.

He felt the same way, after all.

“Kestral.”

Their attention didn’t waver from their deep glare into the basin and Crow wasn’t sure if they’d heard him, their name little more than an exhale and all at once too loud. The need for immediate conversation and tender cautiousness battled in his movements, one step, a barely outstretched hand.

“Don’t,” they snapped, balling their fists against the counter, “I-I’m not ready.”

He wiped away a stray tear that had started forming on his cheek, another couple of slow, carefully placed steps towards them, resting his palm on their lower back. They tensed under his touch but didn’t reel away - thank the Light - but he didn’t push further.

“Not ready for what, love?”

Their response was punctuated by pounding their fists against the surface and turning sharply, his hand staying at their waist despite the sudden change in position, “This!” They gestured frustrated, unable to articulate the exact issue without speaking the words directly, “This. You.”

Kestral would get there. The feelings were front and centre but the words were delayed deliberately, pushed away in case that somehow manifested one of their deepest fears into a reality. A Guardian of legend brought to the edge of their nerve by the anticipation of a horrific loss.

Just a human, he reminded himself.

He couldn’t help but lift his other hand to their cheek as he’d done so many times before; gleefully and obliviously drunk around a makeshift campfire with freedom at his fingertips, just before kissing them for the very first time after a narrow miss with death in the Ascendant Plane, again with their eyes filled with tears once he found out who he had been and what they’d done.

Their hands wrapped around the forearm and wrist of the hand that cupped their cheek, holding it tightly to their face and huffing a breath until words formed again, somewhat soothed and yet clinging desperately, “I’m going to lose you, aren’t I?”

Closing the delicately maintained distance he pulled them against him, kissed their forehead and held them as tightly as they let him, “Not if I can help it. You’re gunna be right behind me.”

They both knew that wasn’t exactly true either, that it’d take a while to locate an opening into the Pale Heart that wouldn’t devour everything that entered it, and in that time anything could happen. All the Guardians that hadn’t returned…

“I can’t…”

With what felt like an immense effort he freed his arm from their grip and maneuvered them both onto the sofa, Kestral curled in his lap, arms wrapped desperately around his chest, using his breathing to settle themself. Grounding themself in the moment instead of the encroaching dread.

“We know I need to do this, this is the safest way possible. If I didn’t and you got hurt leading the charge then…”

Their grip tightened at his back, shirt bunched between both fists. He rested his cheek to the top of their head and sighed.

“Love, if I don’t…”

“Stop.”

He took a deep breath, cradling them gently, “If I don’t make it back I need to know you’ll keep going. This has been - is - the best thing that could’ve happened after everything. I have to do this and I need…”

“I won’t. You know I won’t,” their furious glare met his and through reddened bird-of-prey eyes they made it very clear there was no compromise, “Out of spite for your reckless, noble bullshit. Fucking damn you.”

His breath hitched and caught around the lump in his throat, fingers running through their hair in an attempt to soothe the defiance that flared even in their sadness, “I will do everything in my power to come back to you, you know that?”

It was the only reason they could spit something with so much venom and know it wouldn’t bite as hard as it seemed. They knew. They could threaten anything in the wake of losing him but it would never change the fact that he’d have fought anyway. It was just easier to fight the concept than face it down.

At least in the moment before their hands gradually relaxed against his back, arms snaking back to rest one palm against his chest and the other tucked up against their chin.

Their expression finally turned soft, bumping their forehead to his with a sigh. Of course they knew. There was the unspoken loyalty that had always been there, each of them would do whatever they had to for the other. If that meant defying some increasingly terrifying odds then so be it. Kestral would do all that and more, kill a God, destroy a planet, raze everything they knew to ashes, anything for him.

With a kiss to their hairline, trailing down forehead, cheeks and finally lips he leaned across to the package he’d placed down earlier, kissing them again when he had it in his grasp.

“I got you something,” he said, more breath than voice, “To prove I plan on coming back. Kinda.”

He pressed the package into their hands and watched as the shed paper revealed a plume of feathers or perhaps fur, metal attachments, and a long heavy draping cloak adorned with decoration that echoed those on Crow’s gear. He smiled as they felt the fabric, curiosity overtaking the bundle of feelings that had been wrenching at them, slowly working out what they were unraveling. When it clicked they looked back up at him with open adoration and he kissed them again.

“Here,” he took the metal attachments, swishing the cloak out so that the collar sat around their neck, a regal plume of dark iridescent feathers, “I couldn’t forget a signature piece.”

Despite being bunched up on the sofa together they still wore it well and Crow, compelled as he always was, pulled them into him and kissed them again.

“What’s this for?”

His cheeks warmed up, a royal purple shade touching his ears and neck, “I told you, a promise to come back to you.”

They’d started smiling now too, watching his flushed face with amusement, “It’s a very sweet gift, Crow. Us Hunters are silly-prideful about cloaks. Did you name it?”

Somehow his blush deepened, “I thought about it and I wanted to make sure it was OK with you?” Kestral’s perplexed look bought out a laugh and he stroked their cheek, “I thought about this a lot. Wanted it to mean something, you know? And I was thinking about the fact that we’re very different and falling for you was not as straightforward as a ‘normal’ romance. But we’ve got a lot in common too. Hunters and…not just the bird stuff but…I was thinking about the bird stuff.”

“Of course you were, darling.”

With a shy chuckle he continued, clearly nervous about what he was trying to say but pushing onwards, “Our namesakes, we chose them because our Ghosts offered them. They’re special in a way. We might not embody them completely all the time but there’s a reason they’re ours. And while they’re about as different as birds get, they still share a…trait…”

He stumbled over the beginning of his next sentence a few times, leaning back into the sofa with a groan, letting them fall against him with their attentive gaze watching his face with affectionate amusement.

“This sounded so much more romantic when-” he bit his tongue, “Look, they mate for life.”

They dropped their head, hiding their face in the crook of his neck, “Oh, shut up…”

“I made up a lot of really sappy names, love,” he laughed against the side of their head, muttering into their ear, “All the same sort of stuff; ‘Crow’s Promise’, ‘Corvid’s Oath’, honestly I’m not good at naming things. I got stuck on…it’s really stupid, you can call it something different…It sort of kept the name ‘A Bird’s Bond’...” He could feel their goofy grin against his collarbone, the heat from their cheeks, and he turned their face up to his to press a kiss between their eyes, “Don’t laugh. I put a lot of thought into it and…”

He paused, caught up in the other Hunter’s soft gaze, his breath caught again but not the choking, suffocating feeling before. Like the butterflies in his stomach had risen up and planned to burst out in a horrible mess of fluttering wings. Just the way they were looking at him, like he were the stars in the expanse of space and every beautiful place they’d seen across Sol, it would fulfill him forever, he thought. If they’d just keep looking at him like that, like he belonged, like…

Kestral tucked his hair back and kissed his jaw with a whisper, “I’m listening.”

He sighed deeply, holding eye contact, “When this is all over. Once we’re both back on Earth safe and together again, I want to marry you.”

They sat up straight, mantle still draped over their shoulders, expression bewildered and blushing, “Why? It’s not…”

“I know we talked about it. It’s not traditional Guardian stuff. I know,” he held them tightly around the waist, pulling them to straddle his lap to get a better view of their face, “I don’t even think I can do the old tradition of giving you my name. Mara probably wouldn’t let me and…well, you wouldn’t want to be a Sov.”

They batted at his chest with a grin, “Not in a million years, thank you.”

“Marry me anyway then,” he leaned up and kissed their chin and down their neck, “Even if it’s not a Guardian thing to do. Even if ‘until death do us part’ is just a technicality. I want to show you I love you in every way possible.”

With his lips pressed below their collarbone he could feel their racing heart, hands moving to hold their ribs and trace the bottom of their cropped sports top. They seemed to be contemplating or lost in the feel of his overflowing affections.

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“Anything for you, Crow,” they whispered, scratching gentle circles into his scalp, “Not that this is some kind of burden, but…anything. I’m yours. Always.”

He liked that, the sincerity with which they’d said it awoke something in the back of his mind, something safe and comforting and trustworthy, “Mine. As I am yours.”

They hummed an approval to his response and to the press of his mouth to their sternum and up the column of their throat, the feathers on their mantle tickling his cheek. 

Attempting not to melt into his touch immediately, they gently cleared their throat, “So the cloak is an engagement gift?”

“Figured it’d be more meaningful than a ring,” he muttered against the mark he’d pressed to their neck, finding a new spot below their ear, “Doesn’t hurt that you look good in a regal cloak too.”

“Crow,” they hissed, stifling the laugh that followed, “You’re incorrigible. Love, you don’t mind who knows about us now? I know it wasn’t much of a secret anymore but…”

He chuckled, bumping his nose to their cheek, “I actually think, once we’re home, I’d like everyone to know. The wedding doesn’t have to be a whole thing, if you want to keep it quiet and Hunter-esque, but I will be telling everybody I speak to afterwards that you’re my wife.”

Kestral’s grin grew wider, eyes brighter and softly crinkled at the corners beneath their blush. They held his face, a palm on either cheek and pressed their mouth to his, kissing him slowly like they had all the time in the universe. Unlike them, Crow instantly melted into their touch, his hands finding purchase on their hips, pulling them as close as he physically could.

“My husband…?” The words on their breath were cut short by Crow’s eager mouth, his tongue meeting their lips, the buzz of his impatience seeping into their body, “How long do we have until you go?”

“About a day. Never enough time but we’ll have to make do,” he whispered with a self-confident smirk, hands kneading their behind as he lifted them, thighs around his waist, “Leave the cloak on for me?”

[evolnoomym]

Hello friend! I'm popping in for Happy Pedro Hours and a fun question:

If your favorite Pedro boy saw you with your favorite drink (alcoholic or not), what would they say?

Have an awesome day!

Hello LJ 🩵

Thank you so much for popping in for Happy Pedro Hours and sending me a fun question.

My favorite Pedro boy as you might be able to tell is Joel Miller🥵🤤

OK, I gave it some thought and I think I came up with something that’s good and a lil dirty ooops

I love bubble tea, and if he would see me with a bubble tea well….

You’ve been home for about an hour after spending the entire day out with a good friend. Before going home you decided to treat yourself with a delicious bubble tea, you picked a honeydew green tea paired with mango bubbles. You just got up to retrieve it from the fridge and now you’re sitting on the porch overlooking the beautiful garden Joel helped you create. Speaking of the devil you can hear that he just got home from his day at Tommy’s house helping him renovate the new baby’s room. You wait for him to find you and when he does he scoffs at the drink in your hand. Joel never understood your love for the drink. Looking directly at you he says “Sweetheart if ya want to have balls in your mouth so desperately you shoulda just waited for me. I got two waiting for ya right here” now pointing a finger at his manhood, with a smug expression on his handsome face. That man and his dirty mouth will surely be the death of you one day.

I hope you have an awesome day as well 🩵

[anachr0nismm]

I want to start sharing my headcanons more instead of just telling myself to write my nine chapter fic so people get it because. My writing isn’t the best and I just want to directly get my feelings and ideas across

So, here are my thoughts and headcanons on Brian and Jonny’s relationship!

I want to, as I most always do, give credit to @carmillatism. I get most of my ideas and headcanons, if not directly from them, then while in conversation with mech.

Warning for unhealthy relationships, both romantic (or queerplatonic, if you wish) and parental (between Brian and Jonny, Jonny and Carmilla, and Brian and Carmilla)

Brian was not the first to be mechanised under similar circumstances to the one in which he was, as I believe Brian was the last to be mechanised by Carmilla, so Jonny had definitely seen this before. Random person being picked up and brought back to life, or rather, having their life given back in full force.

I do believe, however, that he was somewhat jealous of Brian, and kept a close eye on him during the time in which he was being mechanised. It would have taken Carmilla a long time, which meant he would have had less of her attention, which came as both a blessing and a curse to him (thanks to trauma).

I think he would have been relatively nice to Brian at first, like he is with the other mechs, though more cautious as I imagine he would be around new people. He would have sympathised with him, and the whole ordeal of being mechanised, even if he couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be changed to the extent Brian had.

But, his feelings, I imagine, would slowly turn to malice as Brian starts to work as somewhat of an apprentice to Carmilla, learning about his and other’s mechanisms, assisting in surgeries, etc. (Side not, read carmillatism’s fic on this, it’s really good) he would start to see Brian in somewhat of the same light he sees Carmilla, as he would not be able to see the turmoil within Brian’s mind, and how internally wretched he had become.

Brian, meanwhile, would be quite fond of Jonny, though understood the other did not exactly like him. They could hold a conversation well enough, but not to the extent Brian wished they could. Most days Jonny was actively antagonistic towards him, some days worse, so he learned to keep his distance.

After Carmilla left, they started to find a good middle. Jonny did not forgive Brian yet for helping tinker about with his heart, but he couldn’t find it in himself to hate him when he had apologised so profusely and done anything and everything to gain his trust.

He still left Brian on Avalon until he couldn’t bare it anymore, missed him too much, and fished him out of that hell.

Brian, however, found himself becoming more and more spiteful towards Jonny while burning and burning day in and day out. When he was back, it seemed as though their previous roles were reversed. He was the one giving Jonny nasty looks, while Jonny hugged himself and mourned the time they, at least, semi- got along.

Slowly, gradually, they find a way to be healthy, to love each other and accept love in return. Jonny had always been unable to receive and express love like most would like him to. He hated being vulnerable, hated not being the all day actor, not keeping up facades that might not be facades. Brian was scared of being too much, and too little all the same.

It was never easy in the beginning of their newfound trust for either of them, but it ended up working out.

So, that’s my headcanons for their timeline and feelings. My brain fog is quite bad, so I feel as though im leaving much out, and couldn’t exactly get everything across the way I wanted.

If you find this interesting, please look out on my ao3 for my WIP fic ‘Our Lady Of The Broken Spine’, a nine chapter fic I’ve been working on since august, about Brian, his anatomy, timeline, feelings, and relationships. I am still working on the first chapter, but I only have a little bit to go, really.

Thank you for reading!

[cosmicjoke]

hi there !! thank u sm for answering my ask about the whereabouts of the scouts hq! i guess it's open to speculation of the location prior to the fall of wall maria ( or as i'd liked to call it "free real estate" lol ). anyways, i have another question for you if you don't mind! i love your analysis on levi and how emotionally intelligent he is and how he's in-tune with his emotions. i was wondering, do you think levi is the type to outwardly grieve at all? perhaps in privacy of his own quarters? we seem some subtle moments like when og levi squad dies as an example and we never see him fully cry until the finale. aside those small, yet very impactful moments, do you think he shows his grief in a more expressive way? if so, how do you envision it?

personally, i dont depict levi to be the type to showcase anger through his grief ( i guess unless zeke is involved lol ), but i feel like some days would be extremely difficult for him as he carries around the weight of his dead comrades and friends, especially at night when he's alone. i don't think he cries often, most likely due to growing up in the underground and kenny's "parental teachings", but as i said, i believe there are rare days where it's just too much, ya know?

regardless of my opinions, i would like to hear your thoughts and viewpoint on this !! thank you <3

Hi there!

Thank you for the ask, and I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help with your first! But this one hopefully I can give a better answer, haha.

We do have one, clear instant of seeing Levi express his grief outwardly, of course, and that's when Furlan and Isabel died. And Levi very much did express his grief through anger then. I would even say Levi was enraged, which we never really saw from him again. Even when Zeke forced Levi to kill so many of his own comrades, after turning them into titans, Levi's anger afterward was very controlled and measured, though still apparent. Maybe the closest we see to Levi becoming angry before then is the first time he takes Zeke down, in Shinganshina, after he cuts him out of his titan. But nothing really comes close to the outpouring of intense despair we see from him with Furlan and Isabel.

That probably has something to do with the fact that they were his family. I always say Furlan and Isabel were probably the two people who were closest to Levi in his life. The only two people who understood where he'd come from, because they came from there too. And also because they were the first, two people he really lost to the titan threat. He'd only seen one other person eaten by a titan before then. A soldier whom Levi likely had no relationship with at all. We have to remember, when Levi first joined the SC, he, Furlan and Isabel were outcasts. Nobody liked them, and nobody really talked to them or treated them kindly, outside of Erwin and Hange. The others he saw killed by titans, he only saw the aftermath of. But with Furlan and Isabel, he actually saw them directly eaten, right in front of him, and for all his great strength, he was powerless to stop it from happening.

For all the criticisms I often see lobbed at the anime adaptation of "No Regrets", I won't ever forget the raw emotion we hear in Levi's voice when he kills the titan that killed him family. We never hear Levi like that again. So enraged he sounds like he's on the verge of sobs. That was Levi losing the only two people he had in his life. His chosen family. His two first and best friends. That was Levi losing his whole world. His rage at Erwin afterward was also a manifestation of that pain. He was overcome by his grief in that moment.

I think, after that, Levi was able to form other connections, and other bonds. Especially with Hange and Erwin, and of course his own squad. And I think he felt the pain of their loss just as keenly as he did Isabel and Furlan. But by then, in order to keep moving forward himself, in order to keep fighting, Levi needed to learn to control that grief and keep it locked away. To not let it consume him or distract him. It's never been that Levi doesn't feel every loss with deep, genuine emotion, or that he's unaffected, or removed from the feeling of loss. He's always been, I think, more deeply impacted by the loss of life than anyone. He just learned to control that feeling, and more for the sake of others than for himself. He wants to stay strong so that he can do his job of protecting and fighting for others. He doesn't allow himself to wallow in his grief because he thinks it might compromise his duty to others. And that's Levi's selflessness again.

I'm certain there's been many, MANY moments in which Levi felt an overwhelming despair. I just spoke about this, in my post about how Levi more often looks sad to me than stoic. I think, when he's at rest especially, we see Levi's grief manifest on his face and in his body language. When there's nothing for him to channel his grief and despair into, it shows plainly on him. So I wouldn't be surprised if, when he had moments alone, he did give into it, if only a little. Levi doesn't strike me as much of a crier. I have a hard time picturing him really openly sobbing, for example. But he is capable of tears, and he may indeed have shed tears in private moments, when he felt sure it wouldn't negatively impact anyone around him.

There's of course something deeply tragic in that. In Levi feeling the NEED to hide his grief. To not let it show for fear of it somehow affecting others. That he feels his grief is less important than his duty toward protecting others. That he shouldn't be allowed to indulge in it. And we know this is an attitude with Levi only holds for himself. Because he never scolds anyone else for giving in to THEIR grief, and in fact does the opposite, providing them with what comfort and reassurance he can. The first time we meet Levi, he's comforting a dying soldier who's crying, wondering if he'd done his duty, holding his hand and telling him that he's done more than enough. Or with the soldier who lead the titans to them after the disaster with the Female Titan. Instead of scolding that soldier for allowing his grief to endanger the entire unit, Levi gave him Petra's patch, and told him it was his friends, just to comfort him. Or when Eren begins crying when they're all trapped in the cavern underneath Rod Reiss' estate, and while everyone else is yelling at him, telling him to man up, Levi doesn't yell at him at all, despite the peril they're all in. He instead tells Eren he's sorry to have to ask for his help again, and after Eren is able to save them, he's the only one to thank Eren and express his gratitude by telling him that it's thanks to his efforts that they'll be able to retake Wall Maria again. Or when he tells Erwin thank you, after Erwin confesses to his own grief and guilt. Instead of scolding Erwin for showing weakness in the face of catastrophe, he tells Erwin that it's thanks to him that the SC was able to get as far as it had. He tells Erwin he's been a great leader.

Even while Levi denies himself the comfort of his own grief, he never denies it to anyone else. And once again, that's Levi's selflessness manifesting. And it's heartbreaking to realize, because again, I think Levi probably feels things more deeply than anyone. I think he's more hurt by the loss of his comrades than anyone. But he won't allow himself to really process that hurt, or find any solace by giving in to his grief.

[hebuiltfive]

::boils the kettle::

by your side: [character] is sick and wants company. Penny

This one was actually quite fun to write! I could have kept going but these are only supposed to be drabbles and it's already way too long. Hope you enjoy it @janetm74! 😊

By Your Side (feat. Lady Penelope)

She had always seen her ability to be as courteous and as generous as she was as a great, defining trait. Perhaps to some people, they’d might have seen it as more of a downfall. For once in her life, Penny was starting to think that maybe they were right.

Parker had only been gone ten hours when Penelope finally realised her mistake. When he’d first mentioned his idea of a trip to Scarborough for a long weekend, Penny had practically cheered him on. Even during the previous night, when her symptoms had begun to worsen, she happily waved him off as the taxi took him down the drive. No part of her had thought of asking Parker to cancel his trip because they didn’t seem fair. He worked so hard for her, the man was owed far more than a little trip to the Yorkshire coast, so she let him go without so much as mentioning her illness. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. 

Except now, Penny had wished she had been a little selfish, just this once. 

She had awoken from a very restless sleep at six, feeling far worse than she had done the previous evening, and had only made it two hours before she found herself calling John. 

He answered almost immediately, which came as no surprise to Penelope. John was always on the ball.

The smile he had upon answering her call, however, fell the moment he took in her image. “Lady Penelope, are you alright? You look—”

“Is Gordon busy?” She asked straight away. In her mind there was no point in beating around the bush. 

“Gordon?” John seemed confused, clearly still a little thrown by her appearance.

In only extreme cases, such as this, did Penelope not make an effort to look somewhat presentable. She could only guess what was running through John’s mind. With her hair still plastered to her forehead, with sweat still clinging to some of her clothing even though she’d already changed into fresher items twice this morning, Penelope knew she wasn’t looking too great. Her lips were dry and chapped, her voice weak and slightly croaky. She hadn’t yet had her morning tea, but finding the effort to actually go and brew one seemed like far too much for her. No, she’d much rather stay put on the couch.

“I wanted to ask you if he was busy. I don’t trust he’d be truthful with me.” Especially given the way she was currently presenting. Penelope had no doubt in her mind that Gordon would have raced over to her in an instant, regardless of whatever he was busy with.

“He’s.. uh, he’s not busy, no. Do you want me to patch him through?”

Penelope paused before shaking her head. She was never one to directly ask for something, especially if it was help. Having grown up in her world of high society and constant gossip, Penny found it difficult admitting when she was out of her depth. In the past, many men and women had used any kind of openness as an opportunity to take a strike, making her see her honesty as a weakness for others to exploit. That paranoia was still deeply rooted.

John understood exactly what the shaking of her head meant. Not only was he apt at being able to read people — given that was his job, it was no surprise he was good at it — but he was also one of Penelope’s closest friends. Words weren’t needed often to express what the other was feeling. Some days, when one wanted to hide a certain feeling, it might have been seen as a curse. Today, it was a blessing.

“I’ll ask him to come over as soon as he can.” John clarified. “Get well soon.” He then signed off the call.

Penelope sighed, thankful that the worst part was over for now, and allowed herself a moment to rest her eyes. She didn’t fall asleep, she only dozed, but the doorbell ringing after what felt like only a few seconds, had her jumping awake. She peeled herself off the couch, silently cursing the way her head span with dizziness as she stood. It took a moment or two to leave the drawing room and make her way to the front door. The bolts were unlocked, the security system deactivated and Penelope opened the door to the face of a very concerned Gordon.

“John said you were sick. I got Scott to drop me off.” Gordon began rambling, pushing himself past Penelope to enter the manor. 

If she wasn’t so sick, she’d have playfully reprimanded him for his lack of manners, but her head was pounding far too violently to even consider any words beside, “You’re here.”

Gordon wheeled in a suitcase that he’d brought with him, sliding it along the marbled-floor entryway and parking it up to the side. “Of course I’m here. Did you think I wouldn’t answer the call?”

The heavy oak doors were shut. The sound of the wood coming to rest against the frame of the entryway echoed dully throughout the otherwise silent manor. Penelope swayed a little on her feet as she turned. Gordon caught her elbow, his eyes searching her face for answers.

“Jesus, Pen. John wasn’t kidding. You need to go and sit down.” He began to guide her back to the drawing room, his hand still gently gripping her elbow for support. “Where’s Parker?” He continued, as they entered the ornate space.

Penelope practically collapsed back down into the plush cushions, her fingers massaging both her temples at once. “He had holiday planned and left last night. I thought I’d be fine until this morning came.”

“I’ll go and get you some medicine.”

“No.” Penny reached out to catch his arm before he could leave. “Stay?”

“Have you even eaten anything this morning?” Gordon asked, though he didn’t move an inch.

She shook her head. Perhaps she would have felt guilty had her stomach not churned at the thought of food. “I couldn’t keep anything down last night and this morning… Well, this morning has flown by, I haven’t had the time to try and get anything.” Her free hand tapped the space beside her on the couch. “Sit. Please?”

There was a debate raging within Gordon, Penny could tell from the apprehension in his eyes. Part of him probably wanted to go and fetch her some breakfast, maybe a drink or some medicine, but part of him probably couldn’t bare denying her the simple request she asked of him.

In the end, he gave in and took the spot beside her. “Only for a minute.”

She could live with that. Her arm looped around his as he sat, hands joining and fingers intertwining. She lowered her head to rest on his shoulder.

“You’re burning up, Pen.”

“ ‘M fine. ’S just… ‘M fine.” She tried to convince him, but words were hard to form when she was so tired and his shoulder made the perfect pillow.

“Are you sure? I brought a med-scanner with me, I can—”

Penelope held him firmly in place and Gordon found himself unable to move without disturbing her. He ceased trying to reach his bags. “No. Just… stay.”

From his sigh, she could tell he was reluctant to give in once again, but he did. He unhooked their arms and looped his over her shoulders, pulling her in for a tighter embrace. “Okay.” Gordon softly spoke as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

“I feel awful, Gordon.”

“I know. I know. It’ll pass, Pen.”

“Thank you for coming. I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Gordon gently hushed her. “You’re never a burden, Penny. Now, try and get some rest.”

[whiskeysmulti]

Wait You Love Me? (KHR Flufftober)

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn Ship: 1859 (Hibari Kyouya/ Gokudera Hayato) Word Count: 1,009 Prompt: Wait, you love me? I always have. Event Host: @flufftober

"Wait, you love me?" Gokudera almost choked on his soda as those three words were not what he expected at all from Hibari. However it was the next three words to come from the Cloud guardian that sent his head spinning as he needed a moment to process what he'd actually heard.

"I always have." Hand in his pocket, Hibari walked closer to the Storm. They'd both grown up, they'd both become men in their own right, and they both were at such a low point in their lives they had nothing left to lose. Ten years ago this wouldn't have been as complicated as both men hadn't ever expected to live this long to begin with. It was a dangerous lifestyle in the Mafia and they were honestly both just thankful for every additional moment they had alive because they never knew when that fated day would come when only one of them would return from a mission, the other lost forever.

Hibari couldn't really blame Gokudera for not picking up on it before. The man was never good with his feelings as he'd always been taught that actions spoke louder than words and it was better to show it instead of saying it. And that was exactly what he had done. The last to arrive at the battle, but the first to cover them and make them actually feel safe, he fit the role of the Cloud guardian perfectly and then some. He often kept an eye on Gokudera from the shadows, knowing the Storm guardian's reckless nature he didn't want to take a chance and even had his birds spying on the Storm, reporting back to Hibari as soon as they found him in trouble so Hibari could get to him as soon as he could. Time wasn't to be wasted in their lifestyle, as one minute could often mean the difference in life and death.

This whole time Gokudera had blindly believed he wasn't desirable that there wouldn't be a single chance with Hibari and now in the starlight, on the roof top of Namimori, he found out the truth. He'd always been wanted by the Cloud, it just wasn't directly stated. For an idiot like Gokudera, sometimes it needed to be spelled out, he understood battle tactics and mathematics better than anyone in the Vongola, but when it came to a test in expressing emotions, he'd fail.

Hibari, however was no better at it. Tone often coming off cold, he wasn't exactly openly expressive either. If it wasn't his anger coming out in a fight, he was often quiet, distant and hard to read. Which was why when he actually said it, Gokudera almost fell over. He'd always prided himself on his perception skills and being able to read his enemy's movements, predicting them before they even happened, yet he'd missed this? No way in hell. This had to be a prank, this had to be a joke or even a dream and he'd wake up in a few minutes in his apartment alone and realize he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up to begin with.

Gokudera pulled out a cigarette and lit it, stepping back to try and process this as it wasn't connecting for him that he could be loved by someone that he'd once thought was untouchable, someone who had been there the whole time and he didn't even realize it. Neither of them could be blamed though for not realizing what was there in front of them. Gokudera had been told his entire life he wasn't worth it, he wasn't worth love. And Hibari had been told his whole life that love wasn't something to express publicly, it was better saved for privacy.

Now that the shock had settled and Gokudera was starting to process what the Cloud had actually said to him, there was that simple question. What did he feel? Were the feelings reciprocated? Could the two of them actually have a relationship safely in the Mafia? Could they be open about it as homosexuality wasn't often welcomed with open arms in many countries? Were they even willing to try, considering all the hardships they might face together, and the most important question between them, would it even be worth it?

The answer was a simple yes from both of them for different reasons. For someone who had tasted nothing but discrimination in his lifetime, Gokudera was ready to accept the fact someone could accept him and love him even with every flaw he thought he had. For Hibari it was simple as well. No matter what hardships they might face down the road, he was mature enough to understand those situations and was fully prepared to accept the inevitable if it did come along, and fully prepared to do everything in his power to fight for this if he had to, to protect Gokudera no matter what they went through.

It was a bit of an odd pairing, a stoic aloof Cloud Guardian who had learned that no matter how small, every creature on this earth has a valuable job in balancing ecosystems, and a reckless and hot headed Storm Guardian who had been told his entire life that he had no value whatsoever and would never have a place in the world he belonged, it was indeed a strange match up. But it worked well.

Love can find you when you least expect it and in some cases, it's right there the whole time you just didn't notice it because some people are more subtle in their expressions.

The air felt heavy with the silence between them as Hibari wondered if perhaps he should have kept his confession to himself as Gokudera hadn't really responded yet. Just as he was about to give up though, the state of shock wore off and the Storm pulled him close, a kiss between them to express everything. Hibari's words were not in vain, Gokudera had just been in shock and disbelief.

"I love you too, Kyouya. I always have."

[cherryblossms]

his expression softened, his body losing all tension as he let his hand lay flat against angel's thigh now. the reassurance did help him feel better but no amount of reassurance would stop him from blaming himself for what happened. because if he hadn't have gotten involved with axel, if he chose somebody else to hook up with or just left it at that one night, neither of them would be in the situation they were in. angel wouldn't have gotten assaulted, garam wouldn't have had to endure the pain, developing jealousy, and emotional turmoil that was forced upon him. he understood that he couldn't control the choices axel made, of course, but there wouldn't have ever been the possibility of that outcome happening if he'd listened to those who warned him before getting himself in too deep with the man. "you're too nice to me," his words were hushed, garam was thankful that angel didn't put any blame on him. he wasn't sure what he would have done if angel had pushed garam away because of what happened. he was thankful that angel was honest about it, too, so he was able to step away from his relationship with axel. garam wanted to laugh when angel said they'd sleep in his car but he managed to keep his composure, only letting a tender smile show. he lifted his hand from angel's thigh, gently placing it on the man's cheek, allowing his thumb to caress over skin. "oh, honey, i love you but we are absolutely not sleeping in your car." there were plenty of other options if they weren't actually able to go back to his apartment. they could stay with garam's parents, they'd turned his old room into a guest room so there was definitely space for them. plus, the gated community provided them a lot more safety. even though his parents knew what happened — the gist, not every detail, he knew they would press for more information and garam just didn't want to talk about it with people that weren't directly involved. nor did he want angel to feel pressured to talk about what happened with him, either. they could go back to his own apartment, though he was sure angel wouldn't feel comfortable there and axel did have a key — he made a mental note to talk to his landlord to get the locks replaced. hotels were still an option, too. sure, axel could easily follow them there but they could just as easily warn staff about him, too. besides, with the right hotel choice, there'd be far too many floors and even more rooms for axel to be able to find which was theirs. "we could just skip going back and stay at a hotel for a couple nights, instead. i mean, if he's waiting for us, there's no way he'd know where we went after the mall." he still hadn't noticed any cars following them, surely axel's brother wouldn't go as far as following them back home, so he figured they were pretty safe. "we can order room service, watch some movies... take a nice, hot bubble bath." he tried to make it sound more enticing, as if he were trying to convince angel to say yes. "it'll be super laid back, super chill. nobody will know where we are so we won't have to worry about anybody bothering us."

Angel kept both hands steady on the wheel, but his jaw tightened as he heard the faint tremble in Garam’s voice. Even before Garam looked over at him, even before he spoke, Angel could feel the shift in him—the way he reached out, gripped his jeans, and held on like he was drowning. That quiet desperation was something Angel was becoming painfully familiar with, and it lit a slow-burning fury in his chest. Not at Garam. Never at Garam. But at the man who’d reduced someone as vibrant, sharp, and complex as Garam into this fragile version of himself. He didn’t look over immediately. The road was mostly clear, late afternoon shadows stretching over cracked pavement, the world humming along like nothing was wrong. But Angel’s thoughts were a storm. He was already doing the math—how many exits between here and the apartment, how many minutes it would take to get there, how long they could afford to sit in the parking lot if anything felt off. Would he be able to face Axel again? “What if he’s waiting for us to come back?” The words cut through the silence like a blade. Angel exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. “Then we don’t go in. Simple as that.” It wasn’t much of an answer, but it was honest. If Axel was there, they’d turn around, call someone, stay somewhere else. Anything but walking willingly into danger. Only then did Angel glance over, just long enough to see the tracks of Garam’s tears, the way he tried to keep his face composed even when it was clear he was falling apart inside. Angel’s grip on the steering wheel tightened again. “You’re not the one who needs to feel guilty,” Angel said, voice low but firm. “You didn’t make him the way he is.” Garam’s silence lingered between them like smoke. Angel continued, eyes still on the road. “I don’t care what you did or didn’t do after that first night. Whatever happened, Axel made his own choices. And he chose to be violent. You didn’t ask for this.” Another moment passed. Then, quieter, “And I’m not going to let him touch you again.” It wasn’t a promise made out of bravado or some empty sense of chivalry. Angel didn’t see himself as a savior. He just knew what it meant to be alone in fear, and he wasn’t going to let Garam face that again—at least not without someone standing between him and the next blow. The car turned off the freeway, nearing the neighborhood. Familiar streets now looked warped by suspicion. Every pedestrian seemed like a potential shadow, every parked car like it might hold a threat. Angel’s gaze flicked across every intersection, every corner. “We’ll check the place first,” he added. “If anything feels wrong, we go somewhere else. I don’t care if we sleep in the car tonight.” He reached out, one hand briefly leaving the wheel to rest over Garam’s. “You’re not alone in this, okay?” Angel’s voice was still calm, but it carried a rare gentleness—something deeper than reassurance. It wasn’t just about protecting Garam. It was about reminding him he was worth protecting.

[writingpaperghost]

Without You (Chapter 23)

Chapter 23: Here's the Truth, Seek the Basement

Makoto and Tamaki discover what's going on with the Ushijima family.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43371954/chapters/133448311

“You’ve been distracted, today,” Sakura noted, looking pointedly at Hikaru. “Is something bothering you?”

He looked up, noting her expression of concern. Hana looked at him with a similar look, now that Sakura had pointed it out. “Ah, well… truthfully, there’s something I feel I need to talk to you two about. Especially Hana.”

“Really?” Hana tilted her head, “Well let’s hear it.”

Now that he was put in the position where he had to actually talk about it, Hikaru wasn’t really sure where to begin or what quite exactly to say. He knew, in theory, what he wanted to say, the points he wanted to get across. But he was less sure as to how, precisely, he wanted to say them.

“Well…” Where to start? Perhaps with Hana. “Hana, do you remember how we met?”

Confused, Hana nodded, “Yeah, karate. You recognized me from class and came over to talk to me and were like, actually nice.”

He took a deep breath, “The reason I went up to you that day was because… my parents had wanted me to befriend you. They- they’re my adopted parents, and ever since they adopted me, I’d been a part of this group – Weekend. For some reason, Weekend has an interest in your family. That’s why they wanted me to be your friend.”

Hana and Sakura took his words in, Hana seeming to need more time than Sakura.

Curiously, Sakura repeated, “Weekend…” saying the group’s name like it was some foreign and interesting concept. “Hikaru, would you mind telling me more about this… Weekend?”

“I can’t say much, they never told me a whole lot. I don’t know why they’re interested in the Igarashi family, for example.” He grimaced, “All I know is: when Giff wakes up, they intend to do whatever they can to deal with it and keep people safe. They know Fenix won’t. I can’t say to what extent, but they seem aware that it’s inextricably linked with the Deadmans.”

“How interesting…” She hummed, “And their leader? Do you know anything about them?”

Hikaru frowned, sighing, “Not much. My parents spoke about him, a little. Some kind of scientist, I think, but he was… injured or something. I think he’s technically dead – like legally?” He shook his head, “A lot of it was overhead, not something they directly told me. They probably know more, but they kept me in the dark.”

Finally, Hana interjected, “So the reason why you tried so hard to be my friend is because this Weekend has some weird interest in my family?”

“Pretty much. I figured… it’s about time I came clean about it, not that there’s much to be gathered about Weekend just from me.” He explained.

Hana thought for another moment, before saying, “Thank you for telling us.”

---

Makoto is happy to finally be able to help again – technically, he wasn’t allowed to use the Anomalocaris Vistamp again, but if he needed to fight, he was tentatively given the okay to use the Squid and Marlin Vistamps as usual. As far as anyone knew, the issues arose from the Anomalocaris Vistamp, so he should continue to be fine with the other ones. Hopefully. Makoto didn’t want to end up super sick again.

He and Tamaki arrive to the dismal sight of Papillion – Hikaru – standing alone. No demon, no Jeanne or Aguilera, he didn’t even have a Vistamp in his hand. His clothes had changed since last they saw, this one now fitting more in line with what the rest of the Deadmans seemed to wear – likely like Hana’s Aguilera clothes.

“Hikaru,” Tamaki said, frowning.

Makoto had expected Hikaru to correct him, but he didn’t, “I’m not here to fight.”

“Then what are you here for?” Makoto asked.

Hikaru took a step towards them, “I’m here to tell you: you should ask my parents about Weekend.”

Tamaki scowled, “What the hell is ‘Weekend’?”

“Weekend,” Hikaru said, “Is what’s in the basement.”

“The… basement?” Tamaki seemed confused.

But Makoto understood. There was something in the basement of the Ushijima family’s home. He’d always wondered, and now Hikaru was pointing them in the direction to get an answer. Whatever it was, Hikaru wanted them to know.

Weekend.

“Tell me, Hikaru.” Makoto began, “Why do you want us learning about Weekend?”

Surprisingly, Hikaru smiled, “Because I’m done playing their games, and I think you deserve to know. Weekend has an interest in your family. I don’t know why, but I bet my parents do. I bet you could get it out of them, if you’re willing to try hard enough.” It seems Hikaru has already picked up on some of Jeanne’s mannerisms – that smile was something she’d do. Yet here, Makoto wasn’t concerned.

“Come on, Tamaki. I think we should pay the Ushijima family a visit.” He turned to leave.

Tamaki grabbed his wrist, “Hold up! We can’t just-!”

Makoto shrugged, “He isn’t going to fight us, he’ll likely leave as soon as we do. I’m more curious about this Weekend.”

“We should report back to Fenix.”

“What’s one more thing we brothers can hide from Fenix? We find out about Weekend, then when we go back to Fenix, we tell them just that it exists and that the Deadmans likely know something about it.”

For a moment, Tamaki look conflicted, before sighing, “Fine, let’s go.”

It really hadn’t been too long since Makoto was last at the Ushijima family home, though last time it was to deliver the rather unfortunate news as to what had happened to Hikaru. He hadn’t gone again to let them know Hikaru was alive, he suspected it was better on all fronts, at the time at least, that they didn’t know, and Fenix had wanted it kept secret. Makoto was expecting not to be keeping it secret much longer and hoped Hikaru wouldn’t mind too much.

Beside him, Tamaki was uneasy. He was obviously less curious about this all than Makoto was – but Makoto had always known something was up, had always wanted to find out. This would hopefully sate his curiosity. Without hesitation, Makoto knocked on the door and waited. Soon enough, it opened.

“Oh, Makoto, Tamaki, what brings you here?” Mrs. Ushijima asked.

Makoto gave a polite smile, “There’s just some things we’d like to talk about – not like last time I showed up, I promise. Can we come in?”

She moved back, allowing them through the door, “Of course, wait in the living room.”

Finally, Makoto would learn about what was in the basement. The question had plagued him for a long time.

“Now, what’s this about?” Mr. Ushijima asked.

Smiling, far more than his previous polite smile, Makoto said, “We’d like to know about Weekend.”

“Weekend?” Mrs. Ushijima echoed, “We… don’t know what that is.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why not?” Mr. Ushijima demanded.

“Because Hikaru seemed pretty convinced you did know. Something about whatever it is you keep hidden in the basement…?”

Both Mr. and Mrs. Ushijima were quiet, for a moment. Quietly, Mrs. Ushijima asked, “What do you mean Hikaru…?”

Tamaki sighed, “We’re not supposed to tell them about that.”

Makoto scoffed, rolling his eyes, “I don’t care what Fenix wants me to not tell people.”

“Makoto…”

He ignored Tamaki, “Hikaru is currently with the Deadmans – it seems, despite the severity of his injuries, they were able to treat them. It was he who told us to ask you about Weekend.”

“He’s alive?” Mrs. Ushijima asked, sounding both hopeful and relieved.

Mr. Ushijima frowned, “With the Deadmans.” Something of a worried expression crossed his face, though was quickly replaced with something else, something more disgruntled. “And he wanted you to learn about Weekend…?” He added, quieter, but Makoto had still barely heard it.

As Tamaki had likely heard it too, it was probably the reason for Tamaki’s concern being replaced with a curiosity. Even he had to be wondering just what Weekend was and, like Mr. Ushijima probably was wondering right now, why Hikaru wanted them to ask about it. By now, even Tamaki must have realized something was up, must be convinced that both Mr. and Mrs. Ushijima know something about Weekend, not just because Hikaru seemed insistent that they did.

“How did you get in contact with him?” Mrs. Ushijima asked, seemingly ignoring her husbands worry on other topics.

“He came to us,” Makoto answered, “The Deadmans don’t seem to hold too tight of a grasp on him.” While it was perhaps a low blow, given how there was a degree of worry evident in Mr. and Mrs. Ushijima’s behaviors, the simple fact of the matter was that Makoto held little sympathy for them. Hikaru, one way or another, chose not to come home, and Makoto really couldn’t blame him in the slightest. Hana’s disappearance had been a terrible blow to him.

Mrs. Ushijima didn’t seem to understand that quite so well, though, “But why wouldn’t he come home…?”

This time, Tamaki speaks up, “I’m sure he has his reasons – the Deadmans have Hana, after all, and we all know he’d do anything for her.”

“And let’s face it,” Makoto added, though Tamaki shot him a glare, “he has little reason to want to come back here.”

“This is his home,” Mr. Ushijima responded, coldly.

Bitterly, Makoto couldn’t help but laugh, “This place is as home to him as the apartment I lived in with my father was to me.” He shook his head, “Don’t delude yourselves, he never loved you – how could he? You never gave him any reason to.”

“Makoto,” Tamaki hissed, frowning.

“Now,” Makoto crossed his arms, unbothered by Tamaki. ��Tell us about Weekend.”

Mrs. Ushijima looked contemplative, hesitantly saying to Mr. Ushijima, “Maybe we should…”

Mr. Ushijima shook his head, “No. There’s nothing for you to know about Weekend.”

They wouldn’t tell them. Makoto had considered this possibility, though he’d hoped to avoid it. Hoped that riling them up might make them spill their secrets more easily. But he hadn’t gotten his hopes too high, and he’d made a plan for if they wouldn’t tell.

“Very well, then. Hikaru said that this Weekend had an interest in our family, so I can only assume that, whatever the reason for the interest, I should consider this Weekend an enemy to watch out for. And I will not simply allow my family to be hurt.” Makoto spoke, words careful. “Thus, I would suggest you not show yourselves at Happy Spa. I don’t believe that you know nothing of Weekend and your secrecy does little to help your case.”

Tamaki didn’t protest, listening to Makoto’s words and watching him carefully. Even he couldn’t argue that Mr. and Mrs. Ushijima were being rather suspicious right now. And if Hikaru was telling the truth about Weekend’s interest in their family – something neither thought he was lying about, then that meant they had every reason to be wary of Weekend as well. For all they knew, they could have some terrible plan for their family, or were secretly in league with the Deadmans.

Knowing nothing about Weekend, save for the Ushijima family’s involvement and their interest in the Igarashi family, meant that they could only assume the worst of Weekend. Makoto didn’t exactly think they were truly so bad – at the very least, he doubted they were currently much of a danger, but he had little proof either way. And there was no telling whether or not that could change with time.

“We would never hurt you or your family,” Mr. Ushijima said.

“Pardon me if I don’t believe you,” Makoto snapped, “But you tell us nothing and have attempted to insert yourselves in our family’s lives for years. Likely even before Tamaki, Hana, and I came along. Just because mama and papa didn’t notice or think anything of it doesn’t mean we didn’t.”

Hesitantly, Tamaki added, “Makoto’s right. From our point of view, you’re looking very… suspicious. Like it or not, there’s too much going on right now for us to be willing to trust you.”

Mrs. Ushijima said, “We truly mean you no harm.”

“If we did,” Mr. Ushijima added, “We probably would have already done something.”

“How reassuring,” Dryly, Makoto commented. He tapped his fingers on his arm, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “You’ve done little to prove yourselves trustworthy, especially now.” Neither said anything, though Mrs. Ushijima glanced at Mr. Ushijima, and Mr. Ushijima appeared to be thinking. Makoto turned, looking at Tamaki. “Now, I believe we should be leaving… you have a report to make to Fenix, don’t you, Tamaki?”

“Er, yes…” Tamaki answered, seeming confused by Makoto’s behavior.

Makoto begins to walk back towards the front door, Tamaki moving to follow behind, still somewhat unsure. Before they can make it far, Mr. Ushijima called out, “Follow us,”

Tamaki appeared unsure, but Makoto couldn’t help but smile, turning on his heel back towards the Mr. and Mrs. Ushijima. Together, they followed the two towards the door to the basement. Makoto was nearly grinning now, an expression that clearly made Tamaki uneasy. He was well aware this could easily be some kind of trap, but they’d likely have to be crazy to try to take on two Riders. So it wasn’t very likely it was a trap. No, they were going to find out what hid in the basement.

The door to the basement leads to stairs, which lead further down to another door. This door appeared locked, but Mr. Ushijima unlocked it, then opened it. On the other side was a few hallways, which the two lead him and Tamaki down, until they came to a more open room. A few stairs lead down to a floor, there were some pipes about, but the primary point of interest were the computers, monitors, and chairs on the other side of the room. The backs of the chairs were high, but Makoto can make out a figure seated there, dressed in primarily black, with some kind of hood. He’s working at one of the computers.

“This,” Mr. Ushijima said, “Is Weekend.”

“So what do you do, exactly?” Makoto inquired, doing his best to hide his smile as Mr. and Mrs. Ushijima turned back to face him and Tamaki.

“When the time comes that Giff might awaken, we hope to do whatever possible to protect people,” Mr. Ushijima answered.

Makoto hummed, “I take it you don’t trust Fenix to do a very good job of it?” That question caused Tamaki to bristle.

Mr. Ushijima hesitated for a moment, gaze lingering on Tamaki. Obviously, he was wary of speaking ill of Fenix with Tamaki right there. Or perhaps there was simply something he didn’t want getting back to Fenix. Makoto suspects that they don’t want any word of Weekend to make it way to Fenix – Makoto would like Fenix to stay in the dark about them too, so he’ll have to convince Tamaki to keep quiet about it.

It's the man in the back who speaks, the chair he sat in moving backwards and slowly spinning around. The man wore a black and white mask – between that, the hood, his clothing, and his gloves, there was not an inch of exposed skin. It would be impossible to identify this man outside of these clothes by anything other than voice. “Fenix will not seek to protect humanity, nor will it try to defeat Giff.”

Though Makoto wasn’t going to believe the man’s words at face value, of course, but he didn’t doubt there was some truth to them. He’s never trusted Fenix that much, certainly, he’s simply stuck with them, and they have resources that make the situation a bit more bearable. Makoto could see just a bit of what lay beneath Fenix’s pristine white exterior, and he didn’t like it in the slightest.

Tamaki, though, was rather loyal to Fenix. He’d trained there, worked hard to become a Rider, and had always believe that Fenix would protect people. Fenix were the heroes, and if he worked hard enough, he could be a hero too. Someone people would look up to instead of fear and scorn. If Fenix wasn’t what he thought it was, then there would go all of his hopes and dreams that he’d placed in Fenix.

“That’s not true,” Tamaki protested, sounding annoyed.

“Perhaps not entirely,” Makoto conceded, “but there’s no telling for certain how Fenix will respond to Giff’s awakening until it happens – and ideally, it would not happen at all.”

That didn’t seem to soothe Tamaki’s irritations, “Are you listening to that guy, Koto?”

Makoto grimaced, “Yes, but perhaps now would be a good time to inform you that, from the start, I have trusted Fenix about as far as I could throw Hana. Which is to say very little, as Hana would stab me multiple times before I ever got close to trying to throw her.”

Looking baffled, Tamaki said, “Fenix’s job is to protect people.”

“Fenix is an entity with a none too small amount of power, and right now we know that there’s someone sufficiently high ranking who is in league with the Deadmans.” Makoto pointed out, “Who that is should not be so hard to track down – why, it’s almost as if someone is deliberately interfering, ensuring that the culprit is never found…”

“You can’t seriously be implying-?” Tamaki growled.

He was obviously very upset, and Makoto needed to be careful – poking an angry wolf is not necessarily the greatest idea, brother or not. But the sooner Tamaki accepted that Fenix was not some saintly entity, the sooner that he could see the truth. The sooner he could be prepared for whatever may come in the future, when what he thought of Fenix would be irreversibly damaged.

Carefully, Makoto said, “I am only stating the facts. Whatever implications that come with them are not my fault.”

Again, Tamaki growled, before storming away in the huff. By the sound of it, he likely left the building entirely. Still, Makoto would have a while before Tamaki would try going back to Fenix, so he could question Weekend further. Then he’d have to go and make sure Tamaki didn’t tell Fenix about them.

“Perhaps you should go after him?” Mrs. Ushijima said.

Makoto shook his head, “No, he’s going to need time to cool down before he heads back to Fenix. I’ve got a bit, and I’ve still got questions.”

Mr. Ushijima frowned, “We’ve told you of Weekend.”

Rolling his eyes, Makoto reminded, “I still want to know why you all are so interested in my family. I don’t believe for a moment that it’s a coincidence.”

It was the man who answered, “We simply wish to ensure their safety.”

“Why? From what? Sorry, but last I checked mama and papa were not the type to even make enemies.” Makoto watched the three. With the mask, it was impossible to make out any of the man’s expressions, but he could see Mr. and Mrs. Ushijima clearly.

“Your parents…” Mr. Ushijima began, clearly unsure how he wanted to answer the question. Makoto didn’t think that he didn’t know, he almost certainly knew. No, there was probably just something or other he didn’t want to say.

“We want to make sure your father’s past doesn’t come back again, as it already has once before,” The masked man answered.

Once before? Curious, but what could he be speaking of? And what about Genta’s past? He was… boring, if goofy, wasn’t he? Makoto pursed his lips, “Papa’s past? And once before, do you mean… when their children were kidnapped?”

“Yes, their children. Weekend was not strong enough, at the time, to protect them and prevent that from happening.” The masked man said, nodding, “But now we are.”

He notably only answered one of Makoto’s questions. “I take it you’re not going to elaborate on papa’s past very easily?”

Noticing the masked man’s hesitation, Mr. Ushijima said, “I don’t think now is the time for that information.” Something told Makoto that he didn’t know whatever it was, either, but was simply defending the man’s choice of not saying anything.

“And… who are you trying to protect my family from?” There were a lot of possibilities, but Makoto really didn’t like any of them.

This question was answered more readily than before, again by the masked man, “There are still people from his past who would use him… or his children.”

“So you’re saying the ones who took their children eighteen years ago.” Did Genta and Yukimi even know anything about that? Or were they as in the dark as Makoto had been and still, in some ways, was?

“Exactly,” Mr. Ushijima nodded.

But their children had already been taken, “Do you think those kids are still alive, if it was these… people, who took them?”

“It’s possible,” The masked man said, “But in all likelihood, they are dead.”

Makoto figured as much. He would never tell such a thing to his parents, especially not right now when they were already dealing with so much. He knows they still hope for their children to come home, even if they made peace with not knowing whether or not they were even still alive. They may still never know – even this man wasn’t certain.

He nodded, “Alright, then, I believe I have just one last question.” He looked at the masked man, curious, “I know Mr. and Mrs. Ushijima, but who are you?”

The masked man hesitated, for a moment, before answering, “Masumi Karizaki.”

Masumi Karizaki? Makoto knew that name, but that should be impossible.

Unable to help himself, Makoto burst into a fit of nearly hysterical laughter. It startled Mr. and Mrs. Ushijima – possibly Karizaki too, though his face is hidden.

Warily, Mrs. Ushijima called out, “Makoto?”

He laughed and laughed, until finally it mostly made it out of his system. Out of breath, he said, “A dead man, then. Though you don’t appear so dead.”

Right here, standing before him, was a man claiming to be Karizaki’s – the annoying one’s – father. A man who supposedly died twenty-five years before. The man who was responsible for the prototypes of the Vistamps and for the Demons Driver. A man who, somehow, knew something about Genta’s past and was worried about it.

“No,” Karizaki said, “I’m not dead.”

“Well,” Makoto said, recovering more, “Now I’m even more curious as to why you want to protect my family.”

Karizaki didn’t answer that, instead he said, “I hope you will be willing to not tell George of this.”

“As much as I would love to see the look on his face, finding out his dearest father has been alive all this time, even I can agree that it’s probably best no one at Fenix hears a word about Weekend. That includes him.” As glorious as his expression would be when he found out. The time would likely come, sooner or later, and Makoto just hoped he’d be there to see it.

“Good,” Mr. Ushijima said.

Makoto clapped his hands together, “Great, well, I should be going and tracking down Tamaki. I assure you none of this will get beyond us.” And perhaps Hana and their parents, at some point or other. But for now, only them.

He hurried out of Weekend’s base, retracing their steps from earlier. He needs to find Tamaki and convince him to keep Weekend a secret from Fenix. He’s not sure which will be harder, but knowing Tamaki, he’s probably hanging out not far from Fenix. He’ll want to be able to go straight there once he’s finished calming down.

So that was Makoto’s search area, and sure enough, he found Tamaki perched on a bench, in an out of the way spot. He wasn’t likely to be seen unless you were really looking for him, like Makoto was. With little hesitation, Makoto sat himself down beside him.

Tamaki glared, “Makoto…”

“Just here to talk,” Makoto said, “Listen, I don’t know about Weekend, still, but I think… we shouldn’t jump to conclusions, about either Weekend or Fenix.”

“What’s your point?”

Makoto drummed his fingers on his leg, “I propose we treat this like Hana. Keep this information between us – if Weekend proves a problem, I got plenty from them I can spill, and if Fenix is as Weekend claims, well Fenix is none the wiser about them, at least for now.”

Rolling his eyes, Tamaki protested, “But Fenix isn’t like that.”

“As far as we know, but we could be wrong. Or Weekend could be wrong. We don’t know, and here’s the thing…” He didn’t look at Tamaki, but he smiled, staring at the sky, “In games like these, knowledge can give you an edge. We don’t know what game we’re playing, yet, but for all we know… being one of the few outside of Weekend to know of them could be an advantage.”

Tamaki grumbled, “Fine, fine. I guess for now…”

“Thank you, I just want to be careful…” He glanced over at Tamaki, “But that means keeping it from both of your captains, too.”

“I know, I know! Though I’d really rather tell them…”

He trusted Mr. Kadota and Daiji far too much. Makoto could understand why, but even telling them could be trouble – especially when neither could be excluded from the possibility of being the mole. It wasn’t necessarily likely, but they were both on the list of people who could get into Karizaki’s lab and the room that the Vistamps were kept in. Makoto certainly didn’t want to suspect either – especially Mr. Kadota with the kindness he'd shown Tamaki, but they were both still possibilities.

Tamaki would want to suspect them even less – not only did he respect them, given they were his captains, but he held a lot of fondness for Mr. Kadota. That kindness that had earned Tamaki’s trust so easily could easily be a weapon against Tamaki. If something happened to Mr. Kadota especially, or if he turned out to be the mole, it would devastate Tamaki. Not to mention Makoto had little faith that Daiji would react well to such a thing, either.

Mr. Kadota wasn’t Makoto’s primary suspect, though. Not that Makoto would ever tell who any of the people he suspected were. There was little real evidence, and making accusations could only cause trouble.

“For now, this is just a secret between brothers,” Makoto said.

“…I guess so.” Tamaki sighed.

Now if only Makoto could figure out what it was in Genta’s past that Karizaki and Weekend wanted to protect the Igarashi family from.

[skvaderarts]

Petrichor Chapter 50: Comradery

Chapter 50: Comradery

Note: I missed you all! I really did. Thank you so much for your support during my treatment. It means the world to me. And now for your reward: 4.6K of well-earned feels.

(-~-)

The cool air that filled the dimly lit space that they occupied was thick with pleasant scents. Somewhat worn but well cared for leather booths occupied the space along the wall where they sat, the thick curtains pulled over the arched windows on the far side of the building, blocking the only outside source of light available to them. Exposed dark red brick and original timber floors gave the entire space a cozy, intimate feel that was hard to express in words but a pleasure to experience. A medium-sized metal table sat before them, large enough to eat a meal at, but its obvious purpose was to be a receptacle for drinks, the cork coasters that sat in a neat stack on top of it making that all the more clear.

Across from the booths was a long bar with several tufted stools. The ones that had either broken or gone missing over the years had been replaced by metal and wooden ones that still matched the style, giving the bar a charming if not cobbled-together style that only added to its appeal. And off to the side of it spanned a small sitting area with round barrel-like tufted leather chairs, a small table sat between each set of two in staggered intervals until it reached the stage at the back of the space. The space was narrow, but it didn’t feel crowded in the slightest. He’d never been anywhere quite like it.

V and Sirrus sat somewhere close to the back just adjacent to the bar, not quite in the middle, but not quite in the very back of the booths, either. There were two other booths behind them, neither of which was occupied. Probably because everyone was sitting closer to the stage. But considering the construction of the building and the depth of it, that wasn’t necessary to be able to hear the music.

On the stage directly ahead of them was a jazz band playing contemporary urban jazz using a mixture of modern, old-fashioned, and less conventional instruments. And while the duo understood the appeal of being closer to the stage, they were just more comfortable back here, waiting for the food that they’d ordered to be ready while they sat and took in the visual ambiance and acoustically charged atmosphere that the venue provided them. It was the kind of place where you could fall asleep despite how noisy it was because, despite the volume, the vast majority of the sound came from the music and not from the yelling and screaming of the other patrons.

A moment later their number was called and Sirrus excused himself for a moment to go and receive their order. They’d been there for about forty minutes now, just enjoying the music and the company they provided one another. V honestly couldn’t say that he knew of any better way to spend the evening. This was… he couldn’t quite explain it. He just felt comfortable here. He was having a lot of fun today.

For the first time in forever, he genuinely felt like his life had actually returned to some semblance of normality. It would never be totally normal like it had been before, and it was going to take some adjusting, but if he had more days than not sprinkled in that were more like this one, he was okay with that reality. 

There had been a lot of challenges and sacrifices along that road that had led her, but he was now certain that this had been what he was missing in life. He understood that now. Fully. And as a small, slightly drowsy smile spread across his face, he felt a lot of the dread that he’d been feeling about tomorrow dissipate. He didn’t welcome it, but he was certain that he was ready for it.

V leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, settling in. He was content to stay here a while longer. They had food to eat, after all.

As if he’d read V’s thoughts, Sirrus returned less than a minute later and placed his food on the table, opting to not disturb him. He knew that V could sense his presence. There was no need to pester him. After all, they’d had a long day. He couldn’t blame the young white-haired summoner for being worn out and in need of a break. 

“I like it here. Do… you think we could afford to stay just a bit longer?” V asked, not even opening his eyes as he spoke. He did so slowly after, although he never bothered to do so fully. He could see just fine as he was, and the regional pub food that he’d challenged himself to experience this evening looked utterly delicious. He liked it here. There was no reason to hurry home.

Sirrus seemed to look for a clock or some other device with which he could discern the time for a few brief moments before giving up that pursuit and simply looking at V. He seemed to consider how comfortable his friend looked for a time before just smiling softly and bowing his head, reaching over to steal a fry from V’s plate, an action which received a playfully raised eyebrow from the descendant of the Dark Knight Sparda in question. But the fact that no other part of him moved even slightly, and that he made no attempt to stop him at all was enough to get a deep chuckle from them both.

“Yes, V. I think we can.” He smiled softly, stealing another fry. “As long as you like.”

(-~-)

The unmistakable scent of seafood and saltwater permeated the air as a cool evening breeze blew through the open-air restaurant. Dishes consisting of succulent seafood, soups, stews, salads, and fresh slices of bread made their way through the restaurant as dutiful waitstaff saw to the needs of each table, the overhead fans circulating the cool air and the scents respectively. This wasn’t a place you went to eat out of boredom or convenience… unless you liked to burn money or just had that much of it to spend.

But it was just what the occasion called for this evening.

“Thanks for inviting me to go out and eat with you,” Lucia said pleasantly, comfortable in the new outfit that the girls had recommended to her when they’d gone out shopping to blow off some steam earlier that day. It was far from her typical style, but the fabric was comfortable and easy to move in. And she did love red and grey, so the grey sweater and dark red pants were a comfortable fit. “It feels good to do something… normal again after everything that’s happened since I arrived. This is nice.”

“It’s been a crazy few weeks, right? I can’t believe how much happened in such short order.” Trish said, brushing her long blond hair out of her face and tossing it over one shoulder. It was annoying to try and eat soup when your hair kept getting in the way. This restaurant had been her idea. She’d been here once before and simply had to share it with her two friends. They had the best wine and cocktails here, too.

Lady sat across from the two of them, the trio occupying a round table with three seats that had been spaced more or less equally apart, the white tablecloth decorated with little seashells as a fresh arrangement of citrus and flowers sat at the center of the table at just the right height to keep it from obstructing their view. The citronella candles were a nice touch as well, providing a nice ambiance as they enjoyed their food and conversed. And speaking of food, it was time for another round of bread and broth, courtesy of the waiter who seemed to notice that they were running low. He exchanged their baskets with a polite bow before returning to the kitchen, much to the delight of the three ladies at the table. The only thing better than the food at this restaurant was the customer service, and even that was up for debate considering how delectable everything they’d eaten so far had been.

“Yea… You’re right, it has.” Lady said with a nod as she took another bite of her food. She wasn’t sure what they’d put in that pasta, but it was good.

“Something bothering you?” Trish couldn’t help but notice that something was a little bit off about her longtime companion, but she couldn’t quite place what it was. She wasn’t used to seeing her off her game, so this was unfamiliar territory as far as she was concerned.

Lady shrugged as if she were going to brush the question off before pausing and seemingly considering something. She then turned back to her two friends, nodding in confirmation. She was just going to have to take the risk here. What harm could it do? Well, expressing how she felt honestly might totally kill the mood of the evening and mess up everything, but this was important, so she hoped that they would forgive her if that was what came to pass. They were all adults here. She thought better of them than that. This was just hard to do. Always had been. Feels were difficult.

“... Do you think it’s gonna stay calm a little longer, or are we just getting too comfortable? Are we becoming complacent?” Lady sighed, a look of discomfort on her face. Everything about her body language expressed concern, exhaustion, and exasperation. “Because I feel like something’s coming, and I don’t like that. Not at all.”

“So that’s not just me. What a relief.” She exhaled heavily as though a great weight had just been lifted from her shoulders. Lucia was starting to think that she was the only one who hadn’t just walked off the recent events and gone on with their lives. She wasn’t lingering on it every second of every day or anything like that, but she just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was a little bit… off. “Thank goodness.”

“Yeah, I noticed that, too,” Trish said, agreeing with both of them. Something just wasn’t right. She was glad that she wasn’t the only one to notice that. It was nebulous and vague, but there was just this uneasiness in the air, and she couldn’t tell if it was them or something else causing it. And that bothered her.

But as she looked out over the dimly lit waters of the harbor that their restaurant sat upon, something suddenly occurred to her in her silence and she felt a jolt of something overcome her. Something very important had completely slipped her mind.

“Oh, damn it! How did I forget?” Trish said suddenly, taking both of her companions by surprise. It had been so quiet for a moment there. And although she hadn’t shouted it or anything, it had been very sudden. “We forgot to mention it.”

Now both Lady and Lucia looked a bit concerned, not for the sanity of their friend but for what had been collectively forgotten amidst the havoc of the last few weeks. They were worried about what she might say, even if only a little.

“What is it?” Lucia said hesitantly as she looked between Lady and Trish. She wasn’t sure how to interpret this situation. She didn’t know either of them well enough to be able to tell if she should be slightly concerned or deeply worried. What was going on?

“I just realized- we didn’t tell Dante about the demon in the harbor! Should we… “ Trish looked out over the water again. If not for the fact that they’d decided to come to this particular seaside seafood restaurant, she might have forgotten entirely. That wasn’t like her and she didn’t like it one bit. Everyone forgot things sometimes, but she was typically the exception, especially when it was something important like this.

Lady exhaled slowly, somewhat relieved. Yea, that was bad, but for some reason, she’d been convinced that it was going to be much worse. This was demons. They could handle demons. So long as it wasn’t another demon prince from hell that was trying to kill them all so that it could enslave, destroy, or devour the entire world, she was okay.

“That’s… a problem for later. He’s not even at the office right now, according to Morrison. Let’s wait until he gets back.” Trish said, quietly agreeing that the situation could use some resolving, but aware of the fact that that was a problem that they couldn’t solve at present. They couldn’t even find the demon, let alone get rid of it. Who was to say that it was even still down there? Or that Dante and Vergil could do any better in this situation than they could. That was a lot of cold, deep, dark water. This would be a challenge.

“Yea, you’re right. There’s nothing either of them can do about it right now.” Lady said with a tinge of resignation. She was capable, but she wasn’t honestly sure how to handle an aquatic demon. What was she going to do? Rent a diving suit and try to shoot it?

“I guess we have a lot of problems for later, don’t we?” Lucia Shrugged somewhat nonchalantly, concerned but aware that there was nothing she could do about it at the moment. There's was an unpredictable future for certain, but not one that they could influence in any meaningful way currently. “Potential problems, at least. But maybe we should just… enjoy ourselves for once. If it happens, it happens, right? We can handle it.”

“You know what, Lucia, your right. We can. What are we so worried about?” Lady said with the same self-assurance that she always had, her confidence contagious. Maybe she’d been stressing herself out over nothing. Sure, there were always going to be new challenges ahead of them, but maybe the next world-ending catastrophe was actually somewhere long off and that sinking feeling she had was just understandable exhaustion from everything they’d done in the last month or so. They’d earned this downtime, and then some.

“Speaking of that, when are you headed back, Lucia? Home, I mean. I know you have to have important things to take care of back where you're from. You’ve got family to worry about, right?” Trish asked before taking a sip of her drink. Lucia didn’t recognize the drink, but it looked cool and refreshing.

She lingered on the questions for a moment, her mind struggling to come up with a satisfactory answer. She’d thought about it a few times now, but hadn’t come to a definitive conclusion just yet. She wanted to go home, but she liked it here. All of her friends were here, but a part of her did miss her mother.

“My mom is there, but she’s probably more worried about me than I am about her at this point.” She giggled to herself ever so softly. Her mother could handle herself, but she knew that she worried about her daughter when she was gone for longer periods of time. But she trusted the notion that her mother knew that she was alright. She would call her again later just in case, though. It was always nice to hear her voice and make sure that she knew that she was thinking about her. No amount of water and land would be enough to keep Lucia from Matier. She would be home soon enough.

Lucia thought about it a little longer, a bit more sure this time. Agitating her side of soup and enjoying the aroma it produced. It had been a good recommendation. This place was fancier than she was used to. The devil hunter then looked up at both of her companions before nodding, more to herself than to them. “A few goodbyes are in order first. Then I’ll say my farewells.”

“Just make sure you add us to that list, okay?” Lady said with a playfully serious look on her face as she pretended to scold her companion. Of course, she knew that Lucia would never do something like that, but it was entertaining to poke fun at her for it.

Trish shook her head at both of them, remembering for the first time in that evening that she didn’t know a single completely sane person. Did those kinds of people even actually exist? It remained to be seen. But then again, that would be so boring, wouldn’t it? Who would want to hang out with normal people? Could never be her. “What she said. Don’t make me come all the way to Vie De Marli to give you a hard time. I’m a busy girl.”

At that, the three of them started to laugh, taken aback by the ridiculousness of the entire situation. Gods, they were all just a mess, weren’t they? But at least they were a fun mess. Better to be that than stable, typical, and utterly droll.

Lucia giggled to herself as she finally managed to stop laughing with her friends, a soft smile on her face. She needed to spend time with Lady and Trish more often. This had been good fun. She needed more of that in her life. Moments like this would’ve meant the world to her in darker times. And to think that there had once been a time when she hadn’t thought that she deserved things like this because of what she was. She… was glad she’d been shown the light and that she’s pushed forward. She was glad that she was here right now with her friends. She was happy. “I wouldn’t dream of it!”

The trio returned to enjoying their meals in relative silence for a few minutes after that, the only sound present being the clinking of silverware against porcelain dishes and the quiet background drone of other patrons conversing and devouring their meals. But after a few moments, Lady looked out over the water and sighed, shaking her head.

“... We really do have to do something about that demon in that harbor though.”

Both of the other ladies currently sitting at the table looked out over the dark water before nodding in agreement with conviction. No doubt about it. That thing needed to go.

“Yea.” Trish and Lucia said in unison. Sooner rather than later. But not before dinner.

(-~-)

The building was silent all but for the sound of the old elevator as it ascended the floors of the building, reaching the top with a soft thud. The car took a moment to settle, not due to its construction so much as it was a safety feature. And then the folding metal doors opened, allowing access to the landing on the top floor as V and Sirrus stepped off, the man with the mostly red hair allowing his companion to exit the contraption before him. He was clearly tired now, and although it was only half past 10, something told him that he knew exactly where his friend would be headed once they made their way inside.

“I would like to go back there sometime,” V said as the duo stepped off of the elevator and onto the landing, his slightly clumsy footing betraying his mounting fatigue. He wasn’t ready to collapse on the floor or anything of that nature, but it was most certainly time to put his feet up and relax for a while before drifting off into dreamland. Hopefully not literally. V didn’t exactly have the most normal experiences with dreams and unconsciousness. “It was fun.”

Sirrus stepped forward and unlocked the apartment door, holding it open for his companion as the gatefold door to the elevator shut behind them, the car likely descending the floors back down to the lobby. They were more than likely the only ones still coming in from the street at this hour, although he didn’t exactly know any of his neighbors except for maybe one or two of them so he could be wrong. It was simply a hunch, but one he just had the feeling that he was right about. He’d never so much as heard a peep from the majority of them. One of the many wonderful perks of living in this building. Considerate neighbors.

“They actually host poetry slams there on Tuesday nights. I’ve gone a handful of times and I genuinely think you’d like it.”

V watched as Sirrus stepped through the door behind him and closed it, locking the latch at the top. The odds of someone managing to break in were next to zero, but it never hurt to be cautious. He felt safe up here, but it wasn’t because of the lock, if he was being honest. V was just certain that this place was safe. You just got a certain feeling when you walked through the front door. And V was certain that he could handle himself, but it also helped that Sirrus was around as well. Nothing was going to take them both out of the equation.

“And I agree with you. I would.” His lack of hesitation in regards to agreeing with him seemed to both surprise and amuse Sirrus as he made his way to the kitchen. It wasn’t something that he’d probably ever mention out loud, but he’d always wanted to attend something like that. He’d heard of them and seen articles about them from time to time, but he’d never been lucky enough to be able to find out where they were hosting them. Not that he would have been able to work up the courage to go back then. Slowly but surely he was developing a tolerance to being stared at, but when he’d been an awkward teenager and a frightened young adult fresh after the events that had taken place in Lympha? A crowded building was a no-go. And so was socialization. “Wait, people go to establishments like that on weeknights?”

“No,” Sirrus said with a straight face only to immediately fail to keep his composure. He didn’t laugh this time, but the amused scoff that he released was a dead giveaway. “That’s why they host them that day. It’s niche. Most people don’t show up to listen to poetry at an underground jazz club at midnight. They close the club two hours early that night specifically for the readings and then shut down two hours later to clean.”

V took a moment to process the information he’d just been given before filing it away for later. He then nodded in confirmation and joined Sirrus in the kitchen for no other reason than to finish speaking with him. Sirrus had poured a glass of water, but V just wanted to say something to him.

“I had a nice time tonight, Sirrus,” V said with a bashful sincerity that immediately grabbed Sirrus’s attention. V clearly wanted to say more but was unsure as to how he could express his immense gratitude and fondness. He hoped that one day he would become better at verbally and physically expressing his affection towards others, but he’d still come a long way from the days when being hugged by his infant nephew had caused him to nearly fall apart from the flood of emotions it had caused him.

He couldn’t help but be momentarily stupified by that notion. That felt like a lifetime ago, but it had barely been a few months. No wonder he felt so tired. He’d done a lot of growing and changing in a very short time. Perhaps it was best to remember that this was a marathon and not a sprint. He didn’t have to become a completely different person overnight, and many aspects of his personality were worth preserving completely unchanged as they already were. And that was without taking into account the things about himself that were wholly and completely out of his control to begin with. He was learning to cope with many of them, and others he was learning to accept. The hard part was being able to discern the difference between it all, but he was nothing if not an eternal student, always willing to learn more.

The adjudicator blushed ever so slightly, attempting to hide it behind the clear glass drinking receptacle he was using. He only turned redder in the face upon realizing how ridiculous that probably looked. And that he’d used a decanter glass to drink water out of. That was perhaps the most accidentally posh thing he’d done in a long while. Despite appearances, he did own regular glasses. He just hadn’t been thinking clearly. 

“Thank you for taking me,” V said to further emphasize his point. He really did mean it.

V had always longed for even a single friend growing up, someone to experience the little things with. He’d yearned for it deeply. There had been few things he’d ever wanted that badly in his entire life. And he’d found Nero, but there’s was a different type of bond. Much more familial. They were the closest of friends, but they were still siblings at the end of the day. They shared blood. But when it came to himself and Sirrus… V didn’t even know where to begin. He didn’t know what he felt for him; how to describe it other than to say it was immense and overwhelming. They just meant the world to one another. It was as simple as that, despite how complex that still made things between them. As standard as it could be, all things considered. At least when it came to the two of them. But nothing was ever that easy when it came to bonds as strong as the ones they’d forged between one another.

Perhaps it was like a flower. Always blooming and changing. Or maybe it was more like the tide. A calculated push and pull that tried it's very best to be in mutual harmony with everything around it. Maybe it was even a little bit of both. But whatever it was, V treasured it and wouldn’t sacrifice it for a thing. He had come to genuinely care for Sirrus. He truly had. And he was invested in their friendship. It was like a garden the two of them had curated together from the ground up: rewarding. Thorns and all.

“And thank you for letting me take you. I get the impression you don’t enjoy crowded places. I didn’t want to push you too far out of your comfort zone.” Sirrus said as he sat his drink down and walked over to him, his feet making next to no sound as they pressed against the concrete. He extended his hand to him, an invitation to receive a hug that he accepted without hesitation as the young summoner pressed his face into Sirrus’s shoulder and simply allowed his friend to hold him there, his arms around his shoulders and his head resting upon the top of his. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

V wanted to do this more often. For this moment to last longer. Today had been the best day he’d had in a very long time. And this moment in particular might have been the highlight of it all. He’d made a litany of precious memories that he would treasure forever, but this one was genuinely something special, no doubt about it.

V was glad he’d met Sirrus. And he knew in his heart that Sirrus felt the same.

(-~-)

You're all going to laugh at me, but I couldn't remember for the life of me whether I had sent Lucia back home! I reread a bunch of my story and didn't couldn't figure it out, so I'm sorry if accidentally caused a giant plothole! If any of you remember and I made a mistake, I'll fix it. I just didn't have the time to reread 50 chapters smh! I think I'm going to make a spreadsheet with everyone's location on it for the time being! I'm trying to streamline things a little better so that I know what I'm working with. You know, tying up loose ends and everything. Thanks! Let me know what you think about this chapter, and I’ll see you in the comment section! I hope you’ve all been well! Talk to you soon, and I’ll see you next week on Friday the 18th! Bye, everyone!