#but in some scenes you can hear this chime - even in the interrogation scene i linked

[beevean]

I feel in a very generous mood, and after I talked about how much Lenore fails as a character, I wanted to for once praise the few times when she was pretty well written for who she was meant to be, a professional abuser, liar and manipulator with excellent strategies to make Hector lower his guard. All of these scenes happen in S3E6, for some reason: before and after, she's actually rather sloppy and in your face, and only succeeds because Hector was lobotomized by the writer lol. But this episde is what I mean when I say she had potential.

First, the part where Lenore "offers" the leash:

Lenore: Now then, would you like to go for a walk? Bit of fresh air in the starlight? Hector: I think I would, yes. Lenore: Good. Sadly, there's a condition. *shows leash* Hector: Oh. Lenore: Not my idea. Striga insisted. It should be quite comfortable. She just wanted a little extra security. Hector: You're ten times stronger than I am, Lenore. Lenore: Striga pointed out that you're a magician. And you do want to go for a walk, so… would you mind?

So.

Lenore kickstarts the episode with some fresh humiliation, because she has no time to waste. She jokes that Hector is now walking "on his hind legs" and looks "almost human", jokes again that she dressed up Hector so that his dick won't be stolen by birds, and asks him to smile in the face of his embarrassment like a creepy old man harassing a woman on the street.

This is the prelude to her downright falling into sexual abuse, which is this entire part.

The request is obviously unfair. Hector has been cooped up in his stagnant cell for what could be weeks, so it's only natural that he would enjoy some fresh air. But in order to get that basic comfort, Hector has to accept being treated like a literal dog for no good reason. And his braincell does activate for a moment, as he points out that yes, there is no good reason to force a leash on him, because Lenore sure showed him how strong and fast she is:

There is no way Hector would even attempt to run away, not when he has no tools at his disposal, he's starved and weakened, the castle is full of other vampires, and Lenore could snap his ankles in a second Annie Wilkes style.

But Lenore is undeterred. First, she says that it was Striga's idea. To this day, we can't guess whether this is a lie or the truth: Striga couldn't give less of a fuck about Hector and shows no reaction when, later in the episode, she sees the two on the balcony; that being said, the fact that she is the one complaining, in E8, that Lenore is taking Hector "on fucking walkies" implies that yes, Lenore lied and mentioned the queen who was less likely to bother Hector.

But it doesn't matter, actually. What matters is that Lenore is shifting the blame on someone else. "Oh, I'm sorry, I wouldn't do this to you, but I'm a poor little girl and I had no choice 🥺 blame her, not me, I'm just the cute princess obeying superior orders 🥺". And since Hector doesn't know Striga at all, and she has no intention of talking to him, he can believe that. She also subtly blames Hector, because well, he wanted to go on a walk, and she's just giving him what he wanted! He should be grateful, really!

Naturally, this excuse falls flat on its face because even if Striga was the one who suggested the leash, it's Lenore who decided to make a sexual game out of it. She is the one who has expressed multiple times her attraction to Hector, first by kissing him after beating him to a pulp, and then by playing some more "genuine" compliments during the interrogation - as genuine as they can be after she spent the entire interrogation making him realize how much of a dumbass he was. She didn't need to do any of this. She's having fun for her own amusement, lording her power over Hector.

(mhh, Lenore using sexual abuse for no reason? It's almost like it's a pattern :) it's almost like being a rapist is in her character :) )

But she's not done! Because at Hector's "You're ten times stronger than I am", Lenore retorts (again blaming Striga, because she has to look blameless) that he's a magician. This is a profoundly stupid excuse because Hector is not a magician, he's a Devil Forgemaster who can't do shit without a forging tool: if he were a "magician" like, say, Sypha or the one who brainwashed an entire village, Lenore would already be a pile of ashes. But again, logic doesn't matter: what matters is that Hector is painted like the real threat to Lenore, the one who has the power to hurt her and not the other way around. This comes into play later.

Now, were Hector a stubborn person who valued his own dignity, this would be the moment where he'd show Lenore the middle finger and resign himself to staying in the stagnant cell. But Hector is not stubborn. Hector doesn't care about his own dignity and honor: he wants to feel safe and cared for. Plus, Lenore has already beaten him at the first sign of defiance: how does he know that she wouldn't punish him again if he refused her proposal? Even just by taking away the few "gifts" she had given him. So, powerless, he caves in, because he's willing to give away his humanity for a few minutes of comfort and pretending Lenore is taking care of him.

Before I move on, I need to point out the half-clever, half-frustrating ironic echo the "magician" line gets in S4E6 that almost redeems it:

This is what in a vacuum I would call a "big dick move" lol. How delightfully sassy it is for Hector, after getting his heart broken and biding his time by coddling his abuser's feelings, to throw Lenore's excuses back in her face to put her in a position of helplessness! Oh, he can't be trusted because of his powers, and that was the reason he was treated like a dog and had a slave ring brute forced onto his hand when he would have willingly agreed to becoming Lenore's pet? Well, then Lenore was a giant idiot for trusting him after raping him into slavery and believing he would be harmless and happy with her, right? :)

(it would have been better if they used the exact word again, but whatever, nitpick)

Sadly I can't be fully happy with this scene because, despite his satisfied smirk shown here, Hector isn't really getting back at Lenore for the disgusting way she treated him, but he's instead trying his best to protect her with no malice in his heart, as shown when Isaac arrives and as shown by how he apologizes before trapping her. The parallel between Lenore "protecting" Hector by ruining his life because of her selfishness and Hector returning the favor is obvious, but it's as unsatisfying as possible, because by now the story wants us to feel sorry for Lenore and Hector's gesture is meant to be tragic, not the rightful comeuppance. Also, due to how wishy-washy the worldbuilding is, I really can't tell if Hector deliberately used the wrong word as a reference to make Lenore really feel bad for her past actions (unlikely, given how he forgave her of everything, but a girl can dream), or if he's seriously calling himself a wizard, which even in the context of the show is very wrong and would be yet another way the animated franchise has watered down the concept of Devil Forging.

That being said, I can ignore the rest of the episode and pretend Hector was being snarky against his abuser 💖 I don't care if it's OOC and it's not like Hector to be this spiteful 💖 go king 💖

After this digression, back to S3E6.

I talked about this scene here, and mostly said that it was wasted potential for Lenore's final act in S4 for multiple reasons. But, for the purpose of this post, it is another nice attempt at manipulation, even if it's a basic "look how nice this place is!". Symbolically, it could be seen as Lenore dragging Hector away from humanity and towards the world of vampires... which would be poignant if Hector didn't start already as someone who turned his back against mankind in favor of vampires and hasn't budged from his beliefs. But eh, I get the idea, and it can be seen as foreshadowing to Lenore allowing Hector free roam of the castle once he becomes her pet.

Then, we have the scene on the balcony:

Lenore: Does it hurt? Hector: No. It just reminds me of the last time someone put a collar on me. Lenore: In Braila? Hector: When Carmilla almost killed me. Lenore: Well, she does have a temper. But she would never have meant to kill you. Hector: No. Because she needs me to be her forgemaster slave. Lenore: No, because if she'd meant to kill you, you would quite simply be dead. Hector: Hmph. Lenore: And if she'd meant to torture you, you would have arrived here carrying your guts in both hands with a spike up your arse. Hector: I suppose that's true. I mean, I can see her doing it. In nightmares and such. Lenore: She does have a temper, but she's logical. She never lets it run away with her to the point of, oh, I don't know, condemning the entire human race to death? Just a recent example of what being genuinely insane with murderous rage looks like. Hector: All right. Lenore: You may not have been treated like a boy king on your way here, but you did show up alive. Hector: Might have been nice, though. Lenore: Have you considered that you're only alive because you listened to Carmilla back in Dracula's castle? Hector: I hadn't. She tricked me. Lenore: I don't think she did. I think she made complete sense to you, and you felt guilty, understandably, about how it all played out. Hector: She made me betray Dracula. Lenore: No, she didn't. She showed you the old man was insane, and she saved you from the consequences. Nobody here wants to harm you. We just don't quite trust you yet. Hector: Trust me? Lenore: You did try to hurt me, Hector.

I still don't know why I can't find a clip of this part. With how crucial it is to their development (and you know, shippers would get a kick out of seeing the peggable boy leashed by the dommy mommy having a cute bonding moment), you'd think there'd be plenty of videos.

Nevertheless, this is the only time Lenore disgusted me in an intentional way, which I appreciate. Hector has no moral qualms about working for vampires who want to turn humans into livestock, but he is still angry at Carmilla for tricking, beating and imprisoning him, understandably so. She is the only reason Hector still hasn't accepted Lenore's proposal: he doesn't want to work for her out of spite. So what does Lenore do with her amazing diplomacy skills? Launch herself into some pristine abuse apologism, the likes of which are only paralleled by Lenore stans themselves, using every excuse in the book to downplay Carmilla's brutal, sadistic beatdown of Hector, because oh, she just has a temper! Oh, it was just a one time thing! Oh, she saved your life nonetheless, even if you were treated less than royally! Oh, but Dracula was even more insane, so you can't be mad at Carmilla!

She's hitting every point possible to make Hector give up his grudge, because who cares about how he was treated, he's alive now, right? He should be grateful that he was "rescued" from Dracula's insanity, shouldn't he? Which is very similar to Lenore's overall attitude, like when she lowkey implied that she was the only one in the castle willing to treat Hector nicely after brutally beating him :)

And as the cherry on top, she is blaming him for that, too! Hector tried to hurt her, so really, no wonder he's being treated like a dog! No one wants to hurt him, she swears, and if Lenore beat him to a pulp the other day, well, it's all his fault, so he can't complain. Mhh, reminds me of another scene...

Goodness, but Lenore must have gotten a degree in abuse apologism with flying colors! Look at that flawless DARVO! She would be a brilliant portrayal of a self-centered piece of shit who refuses to take responsibility, if I knew it was all intentional!

I also like that, near the end, when she's rebuking Hector's protests, for once she doesn't sound insufferably smug, but like she is patiently correcting a stubborn child making him reason. This is much better than her usual tone of voice that can only be described as "I get wet at seeing you humiliated", and not just because it's less grating on the ears: she is supposed to sound trustworthy and well-meaning, emotionally comforting Hector and not making fun of him. This is the tone she should have had from day one. It also would have helped distinguishing her and not making her sound like Carmilla 2.0, BDSM patch included.

The rest of the sequence speaks for itself. Lenore gives Hector a bigger cell (with added symbolism of her tugging his leash to lead him to it, showing that she is forcing all these comforts on him), complete with a book about vampires that he might find interesting, and engages in yet some more sexual play by removing the collar in the most erotic way possible for the joy of the shippers and the thirsty fans. But I want to focus on two things.

One, the book.

When it came to convincing Hector that nighttime is better than daytime, I said it was redundant because Hector already feels closer to the vampire world than the human world. This, however, is a much better way to lure him in: Lenore is welcoming Hector even further in their world - or rather, her world. She is sharing their knowledge, much like when during their walk she flaunted the castle's hypocaust that keeps the cells warm ignore that it's normally kept lit by slaves, giving us some unintentionally clever foreshadowing. Most importantly, this really hits one of Hector's weakest spots: feeling appreciated for his talents. It's all but said that the reason he feels more comfortable around vampires is because they mostly value him for his Devil Forging and necromancy, unlike humans who chased him away for that. Lenore giving him that book "given his profession" shows that she's meeting him on his level, and she doesn't simply see him as a tool like Carmilla, but someone whose blasphemous knowledge is respectable and worth nurturing.

But the really brilliant line is this one:

The levels of mindfuckery here!

Lenore coerced Hector into wearing a dog collar and leash for the simple purpose of walking around, making him feel like it was his fault he had to be treated that way, and all for the purpose of gaslighting him into forgiving Carmilla for hurting him. And after that gratuituous display of power over him, she is acting like they just went on a date and she is sheepishly asking permission for another one. (There is no clip, but the tone sounds soft and honestly grateful, too, like he's really doing her a favor.)

This is the exact same strategy of blaming Striga for the leash. She's passing the responsibility onto someone else: Hector, in this case. Lenore is pretending Hector has any power over their encounters. She's just a poor girl who wants to spend quality time with him, but she would never intrude upon his space without permission 🥺 even thought she just literally did by nearly kissing him while taking away the collar 🥺 no, really, she leaves the choice up to him 🥺 (so that everything that follows will be his fault, obviously)

But Lenore doesn't just delude Hector into feeling like he has control right after stripping it from him: the point is, naturally, making him feel wanted. Not just as a thing to play with, because otherwise Lenore can just visit him whenever she pleases, but as a person worthy of respect. She likes spending time with him, and she demurely asks if he too wants to see her - and after popping a boner after her little stunt being lovebombed like that, of course Hector can't say no. Not after feeling genuinely cared for as a person, his biggest weak point.

How nice, after their rough start, they're finally developing a relationship of equality and respect despite their circumstances!

This is what Lenore should have been since the beginning. Wearing the mask of the demure little girl whom others make fun of, who is completely harmless (unless the other person deserves it), really, her hands are tied but she always tries her best! And subtly but constantly snipering at Hector's heart, sensing the chinks in his armor and pouncing on them like only a consummate liar and inherent predator can do. Not smugness, not humiliation, not sexual molestation: the believable lie of love and affection, targeted to someone who would sell his soul to taste those crumbs.

Or worse, the other interpretation is that this isn't even malicious lying at all. Now sure, Lenore can't spent one second in S3 without that obnoxious smirk on her face because she's just enjoying so much taking advantage of the power she has over her prisoner, and sure, I have proof that the ring was a pointless act of cruelty that nullifies all her hard work... but who says every word out of her mouth is a lie meant to harm and psychologically break Hector? Maybe it's just 90% of them! Maybe she's genuine when she shows attraction to Hector, and compliments him, and is happy when gets "permission" to see her again because it also makes her feel wanted (after all, Lenore's priority is felling good about herself). Maybe she does care about him and she was earnest when she tried to "comfort" Hector after raping him into slavery - oh, my bad, into a position of pet... problem is that she is still a vampire, who cannot conceptualize love as humans do, and sees relationships as inherently unbalanced where she is the one where she has to have all the power. And she's willing to do whatever it takes to gain it, say every lie that comes to her fangs, twist every word, shift every ounce of blame, as long as it's for her pet's own good. Because that's what vampires do.

It's a shame those are the only instances Lenore is well written as a villain, because man, the depths of the realistic, relatable horror displayed in one episode are staggering and well conveyed. And most of this behavior is still carried into S4! ... completely by accident, which ignites my fury like few things.

She could have been a great, viscerally repulsive villain and an accurate depiction of an abuser who truly thinks she's in the right, and not just mere masturbation fodder. Now, if only Hector was written with more spine than a beached jellyfish...

[sofreddie]

High School Reunion 2

Summary: Someone at the reunion has a big mouth.

Characters: Jensen x Reader, Jared

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 2,087

A/N: Inspiration struck out of nowhere and this piece was born. I have a very rough outline for a small series, maybe about 6 parts? We'll see. It's gonna happen randomly, no planned schedule for this one.

PART 1

Y/N bit her lip in excitement and saw a message from Lana. She immediately opened Skype to call her best friend…and thank her.

"Hey you! How was the reunion?" Lana smiled as her face appeared on screen.

"Oh my fucking God I can't believe you!" Y/N screamed, though it was mostly excitement as she blushed profusely.

"So…I take it you had a good night then?" Lana grinned cheekily.

"How could you not tell me you met Jensen Freaking Ackles?! I thought we were friends?" Y/N pouted dramatically as she plopped back on her couch, phone still in hand.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep it from you?" Lana screeched in response, "You remember my last night at the convention, I went to that place for dinner that had the amazing burger?"

"Yeah, I remember. You said you loved the place, that it was a perfect ending to the trip," Y/N remembered, "Now I get why."

"Ok, yeah, so I'm sat at the bar with my burger and a beer and he comes in and sits with a chair between us. I instantly recognized him, but was trying to keep my cool, you know. But he remember me! From the photo op! So we just got to talking and you had just split with Chase and I was so worried about you-"

"Oh Lana, you didn't," Y/N groaned.

"I was just venting about how much I hated that douchebag and what he did to you and what you were going through and how I was so worried about the reunion but thought it could be a good thing for you after Chase-" she rambled on, her words quickly tumbling forth as she pleaded her case to her best friend.

"You're not mad, right?" Lana asked timidly.

"How can I be?" Y/N shouted, "He walked in there all suave and shut down my high school bullies - who were trying to start some shit let me tell you-"

"No!" Lana gasped, "Amanda?"

"And the others," Y/N sighed, "And they were trying to cut in on me and I was gonna run, I'm not gonna lie," Y/N chuckled lightly, "But then he was just there. And she introduced himself as my boyfriend….Oh my god, Lana! What if that gets out?" Y/N sat bolt upright on her couch in a panic.

"Whoa, Y/N, calm down," Lana insisted, "More important than that…he introduced himself as your boyfriend?!"

"Lana!"

"I'm just sayin'-"

Y/N sighed dreamily, "Then we danced. Then he took me for a drive and we parked up at the spot and ate burgers while chatting and watching stars," she sighed again, as if it were a scene from a romantic film she had just watched.

"That sounds like a date," Lana helpfully noted.

"I thought that too!" Y/N squealed, "But that's just the fangirl right? I mean, there's no way."

"How many times I gotta tell you you're a catch, woman?" Lana laughed, "I'm not surprised at all. In fact, I'm taking credit. You're welcome," Y/N groaned once more and Lana chuckled.

"Did I mention we exchanged numbers?" Y/N added with a grin.

"And now I hate you," Lana huffed.

"Yeah, love you too you meddler."

Y/N sighed happily to herself once more as they ended the call. She tossed her phone on the coffee table as she relaxed back into the couch. Her eyes fluttered closed as she replayed the evenings events in her mind.

She had to be dreaming. There was no way this was real, right?

Too tired and content to carry herself off to the bedroom, Y/N laid down on the couch, settling into the plush cushions and dragging the throw from the back of the couch to cover herself, falling asleep quickly and dreaming of shimmering green eyes.

Jensen groaned as he slowly came awake to the incessant ringing and chimes of his phone. He opened his eyes, grabbing for the phone and peeking at the time.

6am.

He and Y/N were out past midnight. After he made it back to the hotel, he had spent the better part of an hour sipping on a beer as he thought over the night he had with her.

He wasn't sure what compelled him to talk to Lana in the bar that night. He could tell she was a nervous fan, and he remembered her from the photo op, just as nervous and shy. But after a beer or two with her dinner, she relaxed and their conversation flowed. It was nice, to be chatting away with someone new, different.

When she went on about her best friend Y/N, Jensen felt something. Apparently the way if affected her friend was severe enough to have Lana in real turmoil over it. Jensen knew what that was like. He'd worried over Jared a time or two just the same.

When Lana gave him a picture, however, his heart skipped a beat. She was beautiful, with a charming smile. But he could see her eyes were sad and guarded.

When he realized the reunion was a few hours drive and a few days ahead of his schedule to be at another convention, he decided to make the stop to see Y/N at the reunion. At the very least he could chalk it up to a memorable fan moment.

Jensen rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he reluctantly sat against the headboard, checking to see why his phone was blowing up.

It took only a quick glance through the various calls and text and emails from various persons all talking about the same thing. Jensen opened the text thread from Jared, scrolling through the messages and clicking on a picture that was include.

It was him and Y/N dancing together at the reunion the night before. She looked as amazing as he remembered. Her smile was bright and genuine, but so was his. Apparently word had spread from the reunion that he and Y/N were together. That's when he remembered introducing himself to those girls as Y/N's boyfriend.

He wasn't so bothered by the turn of events, which surprised him. He had decided the night before that he wanted to ask her out on a date. Their chemistry was too intense to not pursue.

What bothered him was how she'd react. They'd literally just met and had a friendly, albeit great, evening and now she was possibly going to be bombarded with paparazzi and everyone in her business.

So much for that date.

He knew it was early, but he wanted Y/N to hear from him first. He opened the new message thread between them, seeing her text from the night before and smiling once more, before typing out his message.

Hey, Y/N. Hope you slept well. Was hoping to talk to you about something.

He sent the message, noting the time, and figured he'd give it some time. He didn't know her schedule, or anything about her really. With a groan, Jensen hit the green button to return one of Jared's missed calls.

"Dude!" Jared exclaimed as he answered after one ring, "I've been trying to get ahold of you for two hours!"

"Yes, Mom, I'm aware," Jensen said with a yawn.

"Did you see the picture?"

"Yeah."

"And?" Jared pressed for more, "Why aren't you freaking out about this?" Jared scoffed. Since his last major relationship ended, Jensen hadn't been with anyone really. An occasional date here and there for an event. But he hadn't seemed interested in anyone at all, and was quick to shut down any insuinuations to the contrary.

"I guess I should of seen it coming," Jensen shrugged, "I did introduce myself as her boyfriend after all."

"You what?" Jared was shocked, trying to wrap his head around it, "Why would you do that? Is there something you aren't telling me? Have you been dating her for a while? Who is she anyway?"

Jared fired off the questions in rapid succession like an excited puppy.

"I gotta talk to her first," Jensen said, "I'll see you at the convention in a couple days. You can interrogate me then."

"I want all the details."

"Don't you always?"

Jensen ended the call, taking a deep breath. He felt so stupid for what he did. He wasn't sure why he did that other than to shut those girls down. He really hated bullies.

He decided to get dressed and grab a couple of coffees on his way to Y/N's house. A quick look at his social media had told him that picture was blowing up. She was bound to find out sooner rather than later. He had to tell her first.

Y/N slowly roused from her deep sleep on the comfy couch, hearing an incessant rapping coming from her front door. She stretched, reaching for her phone on the coffee table and finding it dead.

She rolled her eyes as she threw off the throw, climbing from the couch and shuffling to the door and she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

She flung open the door, the morning's cresting light just bright enough to assault her eyes. It took her a second to focus, but then she saw Jensen, a small smile on his face and two tall coffees in hand.

"Jensen?" she asked, so very confused and wondering if she was still asleep.

"Hey, uh, I know it's early. But I really needed to see you this morning."

The smile he gave was sweet, but she could tell something was up. Was he worried that maybe she'd go blabbing about their night together? She'd never do that. But she guessed he didn't know that.

"Sure, come in," she smiled warmly, stepping aside and gesturing him into her home. She accepted the coffee as Jensen passed it to her on his way in. She shut the door behind him, taking a whiff of her drink before taking a long gulp, closing her eyes and sighing at the flavor.

"So, what's up?" she asked, shuffling on her feet, "Thanks for the coffee, by the way."

"You're welcome," he smiled, now genuine and inviting and Y/N's heart stuttered slightly at the sight, "I was hoping to talk to you, about last night."

She shook her head, "I won't talk about it with anyone, I promise. Well, other then Lana. I had to call her last night. Yell at her a little," she blushed.

He laughed, nodding his head, "No, I get it. But I wasn't worried about that or anything," he was quick to correct, "Actually, someone else already did."

"Did what?"

"Someone got a picture of us on the dance floor last night and might have said I mentioned I was your boyfriend," he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh," she responded, clearly shocked and not sure what to say.

"I just wanted you to hear it from me first, you know? Before seeing it online or whatever."

"Online-" she echoed, her eyes going wide, "So, you can just post a Tweet or something that it's a mistake."

"Okay, well, to be fair, I did introduce myself as your boyfriend to those other women last night."

"Yeah…why'd you do that again?" Y/N smirked despite herself.

He shrugged, "Seemed like the right thing to do. Shut 'em up didn't it?" he grinned, "Besides," he chanced, stepping closer to her," Feels like we had a date last night."

She blushed hard, ducking her head before meeting his eyes once again, "Yeah, it did."

"And I was hoping you'd like to do it again."

"Really?" she asked. She couldn't help the dreamy look in her eye. She still couldn't believe this was happening.

"Yeah. So if you say yes, then we'd be dating, which is practically boyfriend and girlfriend," he explained casually, "So I think we should just keep doing what we're doing and let it ride. What do you think?"

"I think you might be a little bit crazy," she nervously laughed, "Let's start with a second date," she grinned, seeing him brighten up, "And go from there."

"And the press?" Jensen chanced.

"Let them think what they wanna think," she shrugged.

"You're freakin' perfect," he chuckled, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, even though she still had bedhead. He smiled at the cuteness of it.

"I should go freshen up!" she realized, seeing him look over her disheveled state, "Uh…be right back." she rushed off down the hall and Jensen laughed to himself.

He had a good feeling about this.

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

@fangirlxwritesx67

RPF:

@smoothdogsgirl

JENSEN TAGS:

@akshi8278

@jerkbitchidjitassbutt

@slamminmine

[amphxtrite]

spencer reid x reader

chapter 2 • coffee or tea?

series summary: a new case brings the BAU to New York, investigating a string of murders involving girls who appear very similar. The unsub is relentless, desperate to fill the needs of his fantasy. In the midst of it, spencer meets the girl he been writing with, but had yet to see, prompting a love to blossom in the midst of the storm. Is disaster inevitable? Or will the duplicator’s rein fall?

warnings: mentions of kidnapping, murder, mainly fluff this chapter

chapter summary: the investigation continues, but the team is in dire need of rest after a late night of work. Spencer makes a call to the reader and a plan is put in place to meet, the only question Spencer will have to answer today is a simple one, coffee or tea?

taglist: @le-weasley-simp @thatsonezesty13 @paperandplasma @padsfirewhisky @clubfairy @kiramdd @peach-cliquee @goldeng1rl8​ (message/comment to be added)

word count: 5.7k

“Hotch here.” The unit chief’s voice states, raising his cell to his ear.

“Hey Hotch, this guy’s a romantic, he’s leaving roses and quotes from books at the scenes, we’ve found two already.” Rossi’s voice sounds through the phone.

“Roses? You don’t think-” 

“Yeah I do, he’s keeping them to try and make them fall in love with him.” Rossi sighs.

“But he’s angry, can’t handle the rejection for long.” Hotch finishes, nodding to himself. “Thanks Rossi, if you find anything else let me know.” He chimes, hanging up the phone and going to find JJ.

“Agent Hotchner!” A voice calls to the profiler, prompting him to turn.

“Yes that’s me.” He responds.

“Sorry, I’m Detective Dakota Trent, I’m also working on the case with Detective Kimathi, she’s just at the crime scene.” A brunette with close cropped hair greets the agent, shaking his hand.

“Good, have we come up with anything new yet?” Hotch asks, following Detective Trent to the interrogation rooms.

“Well we’ve talked to both Olivia’s fiancee and Georgia’s boyfriend. They’ve both got solid alibis and people to back up their claims, it’s not them.” Detective Trent shrugs.

“Have you heard about the roses yet?” Hotch questions, examining each of every person’s movements behind the glass.

“Yeah, Kimathi called me just before I found you, we’ve got a romantic serial killer?” They ask.

“What he’s experiencing probably isn’t love, it’d be impossible for him to feel it. My guess is this is an obsession over someone he’s lost or been rejected by.” Hotch explains. Detective Tent nods and points to another direction.

“Agent Jareau just finished interviewing Georgia’s family, you can find her through there.” They smile, Hotch thanks them and steps through.

The unit chief walks down a hallway and peers past each door until he finds the blonde sitting in an empty room; going over the case file again. 

“How are the families?” Hotch asks, stepping in.

“Torn apart.” JJ sighs, closing the file and leaning against the wall behind her. “Olivia’s mom just had enough in her to clear Alice, then she broke down into tears. Isabelle’s parents had it worse though; she was an only child, a miracle one too, her mother had troubles conceiving.” She continues. 

“And Georgia’s parents.” Hotch questions.

“Tried to be strong, but-” JJ pauses. “They could barely look at each other, let alone me.” She concludes sadly.

“Have any of them given any possible suspects?”

“Lots, mainly ‘strange’ ex boyfriends, but I had Garcia check them out and they’re clean.” The blonde shrugs, standing and following Hotch back out.

“They’ve given us a room to set up in, When Spencer gets back I want you to help him come up with a geographic profile.” Hotch nods, opening a door to a room filled with whiteboards and a large table.

“You got it, and maybe ask them to bring a coffee machine in, we’re gonna be up for a while.” JJ giggles, opening the case file again and placing the pictures of each scene up on the whiteboard.

“Hey we’re back from the ME, toxicology found ketamine in both victim one and two.” Prentiss states, opening the door to the board room with Spencer in tow.

“But not victim number three, does that mean he’s devolving?” JJ questions.

“Or she was a victim of opportunity, he couldn’t pass up the chance so he took her.” Spencer includes, shrugging his shoulders, and taking a seat next to JJ after seeing the map in front of her.

“Again it’s hard to know, but Morgan and Rossi found flowers at two of the dump sites so far.” Hotch tells Prentiss and Reid.

“Flowers?” Emily asks.

“A note too, some quotes about finding true love, we’re hoping you could help us with them kid.” Rossi suddenly chimes from behind the group, seeming disgusted at the thought of it. “We found the third one by the way, hidden in some bushes by the bridge.” 

“What did the cards say, Rossi?” Spencer questions, removing his gaze from the map.

“The first one said ‘I’ve never had a moment’s doubt. I love you. I believe in you completely. You are my dearest one. My reason for life.’ Second one said ‘He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.’ Third one said ‘Do I love you? My god, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches.” Rossi lists reading off his tablet.

“All of those have to do with love alright, this unsub is absolutely infatuated with the idea of finding his true love.” JJ notes, looking at her own tablet.

“Maybe this unsub has some form of erotomania? Thinking all these girls love him, so he kidnaps them only for them to ruin his fantasy?” Derek suggests, fiddling with a pen in his hands.

“It would make sense why he’s keeping the girls only to kill them, and why they’re fed while he’s holding them.” Prentiss adds, looking to Spencer who looks deep in thought..

“Well now that we know more let’s get to work, we’ll deliver the profile in the morning so every officer can hear.” Hotch states, glancing out the window at the sky which had faded to an eerie black.

“I’ve got it!” Spencer suddenly exclaims. The team looks to him curiously.

“The first quote was from Atonement by Ian McEwan, the second quote was from Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, and the last one was from The Princess Bride by William Goldman!” He explains, standing from his seat and writing each quote on the whiteboard.

“These are all famous quotes about love, some of my favourite books too. This unsub is educated, definitely enough to read classic literature-”

“Wait Spence, the other two I can get, but you’ve read The Princess Bride?” JJ asks, excitement lacing her tone.

“Um yes, I saw it at the library so I decided I’d read it.” Spencer murmurs, turning to the whiteboard again to hide the hitch in his voice. The truth was it was another book you had practically begged him to read, he couldn’t say no. Spencer would have never guessed it would have aided him in a case.

“Oh Spence, I love that book too, you should come over and watch the movie with me and Henry, I’ve been meaning to show him.” JJ continues.

Spencer sighs in relief. “Yeah that sounds good JJ.”

---

“You’ve got to be joking.” A tired voice chimes from outside the door.

Hotch glances up at the voice, JJ inhales deeply as she wakes up, Prentiss and Spencer both take long sips from their coffee cups and Derek snores in his seat.

“Can we help you Detective Trent?” Hotch asks, turning to face them. Dakota doesn’t miss the dark bags under the unit chief’s eyes.

“Yes as a matter of fact, go to sleep!” Dakota smiles in a sickly sweet manner.

“I don’t think-”

“They’re right Hotch, you know we aren’t much help dead tired.” Rossi practically pleads.

“I could use some solid food too.” Emily adds, swirling around what remained of her fourth cup of coffee that night.

“You guys have a hotel for a reason, pretty much every other officer is either patrolling or at home, get some rest and we’ll see you in the morning.” Dakota smirks, waving the team off and heading towards the exit.

Hotch sighs and rubs his eyelids, feeling the relief of closing them before opening them again.

“Derek, Derek wake up!” JJ mutters, tapping on Morgan’s shoulder until he finally slumps forward, awake.

“Is it morning yet?” He grumbles.

“No, but we’re heading to the hotel now, and getting food.” JJ smiles, watching Derek perk up at the mention of something to eat. “What’s everyone in the mood for?” She asks, turning to everyone.

“M’ good with anything.” Rossi yawns, leaning against the door frame.

“There’s a shawarma place close to the hotel?” Spencer proposes, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the joint.

The team nods in agreement, shaking the tiredness off to walk back to the hotel.

Spencer enjoyed moments like this, when his team didn’t have to focus on a case for just a few moments, where he could let his mind rest for a minute.

“Hey player, meet any lovely New York ladies yet?” Derek chuckles throwing his arm over Spencer’s shoulder.

Scratch that, this is not what he had in mind.

“Nope.” He responds plainly.

“Right, right… What about that lady you’ve been writing too?” Derek teases, watching Spencer avert his gaze to the sky.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He murmurs. Derek’s smile grows.

“A mystery woman, Spencer I didn’t think you had it in you? Is she older? Rich maybe?” Derek lists playfully as Spencer rolls his eyes.

“Sorry Derek, maybe you’re just thinking too much.” Spencer shrugs, digging his hands into his pockets and sighing.

“Alright, I’ll back off.” Derek sighs, lifting his hands in mock surrender, only half telling the truth.

“Take a left here.” Spencer nods, pointing to a dimly lit building. “The shop is down there.” Spencer nods.

“I’ll go with the genius, you guys head back to the hotel.” Derek says, waving off the tired agents as he pushes Spencer forward towards the store. 

“Hey Morgan, do you mind if I call Garcia, I’ll meet you inside.” Spencer smiles as they reach their destination. 

Derek thinks nothing of it and nods, turning to swing open the door and order.

Spencer sighs and glances to both sides before turning and walking in the direction of the payphone. He had chosen this spot not only for convenience sake, but because there was a payphone right outside. It had been a while since Spencer had heard from you, and he felt bad not being able to read your letters.

Taking a deep breath he steps into the phone booth and dials your number.

“Thank you for subscribing to Lynn’s cat shop. Would you like to hear a fact about cat paws?” Your distinct voice chimes from the other end of the line.

“Well I do already know quite a bit, but hit me.” Spencer jokes back, smiling when he hears your audible gasp.

“Dr. Reid!” You laugh, sitting up straight from your lying position in bed.

“Hey what happened to cat facts?” Spencer teases gently, leaning against the side of the booth.

“I thought it was a spam call!” You justify, looking at the number again. “Hey Doc, this is a New York number-” You say slowly, putting two and two together. “You’re here! Are you on a case?”

“Yes actually.” Spencer replies with a soft smile. 

“Is it about that ‘duplicator’ guy I’m seeing on the news?”

“Yes, but don’t worry we’re doing well with the profile, and he’s only killing people that fit his victimology.” Spencer reassures you.

You remain quiet for a moment.

“Y/n? Are you still there?” Spencer asks, eyebrows drawing together at your sudden silence.

“Oh yeah, s-sorry Doc. Hey if you’re up for it, we could- meet up?” You ask, turning the conversation and popping the ‘p.’

“O-Oh.” Spencer stammers, caught off guard by your sudden proposition. “I-I mean I do have to work on the case…” Spencer sighs.

“But?” You plead, leaning into your phone.

“I can meet you earlier? Six am maybe?” Spencer offers quietly, feeling his voice break.

“Ooh you’re pushing it Doctor Reid, but I’ll manage.” You tease.

“Great! Great, um where do you want to meet?” Spencer asks, relief showing through his voice.

“There’s a park beside campus, my favourite spot is the field beside the cafe.” You smirk, dropping a not-so subtle hint.

“I-I’ll be there! Yeah See you then!” Spencer mutters in an excited tone.

“Sounds like a plan. Bye Spence!” You say in a sing-song voice before hanging up.

There it was again, Spence. No matter how many times he’s heard his name before, there was something special about you saying his name. Something that made him feel good.

“Spence…” He murmurs to himself, hanging the phone up and walking into the shawarma shop.

“Bout time pretty boy, what were you even calling about.” Derek asks, as he takes a bite from his wrap.

“Just checking if forensic found anything on the flowers yet.” Reid lies coolly.

“Anything?” Derek says in a muffled voice, throwing a wrap to the brunette.

“Not yet.” Spencer says in a slight yelp, just catching it before it falls.

“Oh well, it’ll probably be there in the morning.” Derek shrugs, picking up the bagged wraps. “Thanks again.” Derek waves to the owner before exiting the store.

“Did you know the origin of the word shawarma comes from the Turkish word çevirme, which means ‘turning’ which makes sense because of the-”

“Just enjoy the food pretty boy, just enjoy it.” Derek sighs, pushing the Shawarma up against Spencer’s mouth.

“Mm-” The younger agent protests, pushing his face back and snatching his shawarma back.

“Hurry up genius, the team is waiting.” Derek laughs.

The brunette rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but speeds up his walk beside his friend anyways.

---

Spencer wakes up to the sound of an alarm in his ear and without skipping a beat he sits up and throws his covers off, careful not to wake Derek sleeping in the bed next to him.

Slowly, he picks up his bag and tip toes to the bathroom, glancing at his watch, the time reads 5:00 am, still dark out. Spencer nods to himself.

Pulling on a white collared shirt and a black- no, black was too formal. Maybe red instead? No, this isn’t a date… “Blue.” Spencer murmurs, placing the tie around his neck and tying it slowly, being sure not to mess up. “Hi I’m Doc- no wait, hi I’m Spencer.” The brunette murmurs to himself as he ties his shoes. Spencer curses himself for only bringing converses and striped socks, but his jeans covered most of it to his relief.

“Hi I’m Spencer-”

“Spence, who are you talking to this early in the morning?” Derek’s drowsy voice groans from his spot in bed.

“I’m heading out early, I’ll see you later Morgan!” Spencer calls, pulling on his jacket to fend off the cool November air and swinging his bag over his shoulder so he could head back to the police department afterwards.

Stepping off the elevator, the hotel was practically empty, Spencer sighs in relief, he must have looked like a psycho constantly fixing his hair and tie. 

He exits the front door into the windy New York outdoors, suddenly regretting not wearing his scarf, but regardless, pushing on.

tousled brown hair swaying in the wind, Spencer checks himself in the glass of a building beside him, licking his chapped lips and swiveling his head back to the pavement ahead of him, careful not to bump into anyone.

Taking another turn, Spencer sees the sign for your university campus and feels his heart begin to race.

All of his thoughts began to jumble. What was his name again? Where was he going? A sudden squawk from a crow brings him back to himself, but his hot face and racing heart were impossible to shake.

As he grows closer to the coffee shop you mentioned to him, he begins to stumble, his feet beginning to fail him. He’s able to play it off as a funny walk, but when he spots the coffee shop, and beside it, the field. He completely stops.

A man grunts behind him, cursing at Spencer before turning and walking around him.

“Sorry.” Spencer murmurs, walking to the side of the pavement before crossing the street quickly.

Glancing down at his wrist again, his watch reads 5:45. Great, now he just had to sit and wait-

“What?”

Spencer’s thoughts are cut short when his vision is cut off by something...warm. Hands.

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone-” A sweet voice whispers in his ear.

The melodic voice from across the phone, it was you!

“W-We find it with another.” He stammers out, smiling as he hears your laughter.

“Doctor Spencer Reid, finally we meet.” You sigh, removing your hands from his face and dropping them at your sides.

“Y-Y/n-” Spencer says, turning to face you. 

He freezes for a moment as his eyes adjust to the light again. Then his jaw drops.

“Y-You’re…” Spencer’s eyes follow your y/h/c hair, jawline, eye shape and height. 

“No, no, no, no.” Spencer murmurs, glancing from side to side, overanalyzing every single person in your vicinity.

This was impossible. So, so impossible, yet there you were. Your description matched those girls perfectly, yet here you were out in the open talking to him. You weren’t safe.

“I-I know Doc, but it’s okay, I’ve got my pepper spray and everything!” You reassure Spencer, squeezing his hand gently.

“Y/n, y-you fit this unsub’s type, you can’t just be out here like this it’s not safe!” Spencer snaps, pulling his jacket off by the sleeves and swinging it over your head to hide you.

Your eyes widen and Spencer’s stomach fills with dread.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. I just want you to be safe.” Spencer explains, lowering his voice and leaning closer to you.

“It’s alright Spence. I knew the risk, but I just wanted to see you.” You mutter, crossing your arms and sighing.

“Hey, you- you finished Love and Living.” Spencer smiles softly, remembering the quote you whispered to him when you covered his eyes.

“Yeah, it just kind of stuck with me. Thomas Merton can really write.” You smirk, nodding your head a little.

“Well I certainly prefer him over J.C?” Spencer asks, sarcastically tilting his chin.

“J.K, but you already knew that.” You laugh, rolling your eyes.

“I did?” Spencer jokes, eyes widening when he finally realizes how close the two of you are to each other, his eyes shyly draw downwards.

“Ahem?” You smirk. “Eyes up here Doc.” 

“O-Oh it’s not like that, I swear.” Spencer rushes, quickly looking back up in panic.

“Hey Spence! I’m just teasing, it’s alright.” You stammer in a hushed tone, gently moving your hands to cup Spencer’s face as reassurance.

The hits just kept coming today. Spencer internally trembles, but nods, darting his tongue out again to hide his quivering lip.

“Hey, since we’re both just standing here, do you want to grab something to eat?” You shrug, awkwardly retreating your hands to your chest.

There it was again, the sound of his name on your voice.

“C-Coffee?” Spencer sputters. “How about coffee?” Spencer repeats, clearing his voice and moving his hands from your shoulders to his sides.

“Yeah, coffee sounds great Doc.” You nod, taking Spencer’s hand and pulling him forwards.

“I’ve been going to this place since my first year here, amazing coffee, tea, and even seasonal sodas.” You gush, squeezing his hand and opening the door to the local shop.

“Any idea of what you want to order?” You ask, turning to face the brunette and shifting his jacket from your head to your arms.

“Uh, regular coffee is fine?” Spencer’s voice comes out almost as a question, he feels himself growing timid at the size of the menu.

“I’ll tell Choi ssi to surprise you.” 

Spencer nods, his lips pulling up into a line.

“Ah if it isn’t my favourite little boba pearl, what can I get for you today?” A man in his late forties calls to you with a smile. “And who might this be?” Mr. Choi motions to Spencer.

“Choi ssi, I’d like you to meet my Doc.” You smile. Spencer feels his face heat up at ‘my’

“I-I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” He explains, nodding to the man behind the counter.

“I’m Viktor Choi, and Doctor? Wow, how old are you kid?” Mr. Choi questions in slight awe.

“Twenty five.” Spencer answers plainly, shrugging his shoulders.

Viktor’s jaw drops.

“Yeah I get that a lot, are we gonna order now?” Spencer blurts, turning back to you.

“Yeah of course. I’ll have my boba, and Doc-” You pause, tapping Spencer on the chest. “Would like to be surprised.” You smirk.

“Oh adventurous.” Choi smirks back to you, raising his eyebrows. You nod.

Spencer’s eyebrows furrow, feeling something strange was awaiting him.

“Oh you’ll love it!” You smile, placing a paper bill on the counter and pulling Spencer towards a table.

From the shake of Mr. Choi’s head and your small smirk, Spencer made an educated guess you gave him more than what was expected.

“Here.” You point to an empty table beside one of the large windows that wrapped around the shop.

“A window seat.” Spencer smirks, sitting in the chair across from you.

“What, you have a profiler fact for me?” You tease.

“Well, people who prefer window seats are more selfish and easily irritable.” Spencer shrugs feeling his smile widen. 

“Hey I just like to feel the sun.” You protest, looking out into the busy traffic not too far from you.

“I see.” Spencer smirks, glancing over to see you gazing into the sunlight.

Spencer is caught off guard at first, beauty isn’t usually a thing he notices, but it would be impossible for him not to admire you.

Your e/c eyes seemed to glow in the sunrise, your hair shined and your smile grew and seemed to shine brighter than the sun could ever be, figuratively though, obviously. 

Strange, Spencer felt his hands clam up and heart began to race again.

“Order for miss boba and her doc!” Mr. Choi calls, drawing both yours and Spencer’s attention.

“You seemed like a coffee kind of guy.” He shrugs as you bring the two drinks back to your table.

Spencer smiles in acknowledgement before looking down at what looked to be a simple coffee with a rim of milk foam and- Spencer furrows his eyebrows, chocolate shavings.

“Don’t be deceived, his coffee packs a punch.” You smirk, stirring your drink with the straw poking out of it.

“Good.” Spencer nods, drawing a laugh from you, as he lifts the mug to his lips and blows on the hot liquid, finally getting a taste.

The first thing that hits Spencer is the sweetness, just the right amount that made him smile as he drank it. The next was how rich it is, practically gliding over his tongue like melted chocolate, of course just not as viscous. 

You must have noticed a change in his demeanor because you begin to giggle to yourself.

You couldn’t help it, the look on Spencer’s face was too good not to notice.

His eyes widened, brows raised to his hairline and he tilted the cup higher in an instant to get more.

“Adorable.” You sigh to yourself, not realizing you had said it out loud until Spencer suddenly chokes on his drink.

“Oh my god, Spence are you alright?” You worry, holding a napkin to his chin as drops of coffee spill past his lips. 

The brunette nods, bringing the drink back down onto the table to see he had already drunken half of it.

“It’s good right?” You grin, pulling the napkin away but not moving back just yet.

Spencer nods, already feeling a buzz, but unsure if it was from the coffee or your sudden proximity, or you calling him adorable.

His ears felt as though they were burning, and this time he couldn’t blame the coffee.

Timidly glancing up, it seemed as though you could say the same for your cheeks.

Spencer lifts his mug up again to take another sip of his beverage, clearing his throat a bit before speaking again.

“I-If it makes you feel any better, I find you rather endearing, myself.” Spencer says just above a whisper, too nervous to look you back in the eye.

“Thank you Spencer.” You smile, feeling a rush of warmth in your chest and in your face.

Without thinking you look up and tilt Spencer’s chin back up to face you. His eyes read amazement and sheepishness, prompting a giggle from you.

Usually Spencer would have pushed the hand touching him away, ready to list facts about germs to make sure no one in the general vicinity would try that again. But there was something about his racing heart and your gentle hands that smelt of lavender, that made it impossible for any words to come out at all, he barely wanted to move.

“Hey Doc, do you feel like going for a walk?” You ask, stroking your thumb down Spencer’s cheek to catch his attention again. 

“Yeah, yeah a walk.” Spencer glances down at his watch, 6:24.

“I have to be back at the station for seven, but I can walk you back to your dorm?” Spencer offers, half suggesting it just to make sure you got back safely.

“What a gentleman.” You smirk standing and prompting Spencer to follow you. “You can drop the cup off at the counter over there.” You say, Spencer nods, standing and placing the mug at the counter for an employee to sweep it away in seconds.

“Now come on, we’ve still got time for me to give you a little tour.” You grin, putting a bit too much emphasis on little.

To the profiler’s surprise, you take his hand into yours as you wave goodbye to Mr. Choi.

“Bye my little boba pearl and Dr. Boyfriend!” He shouts out to you and Spencer as you exit the door. Spencer doesn’t even have time to sputter out a correction before you’re pulling him towards your campus. 

“Isn’t he the best! He and his husband have been running that place for years, the best coffee in the city if you ask me.” You chuckle, slowing your speed to a steady walk beside Spencer.

“Yeah, we should go again sometimes.” Spencer shrugs, finally closing his hands around yours, growing accustomed to the feeling.

“D-Did you know that multiple studies, including one conducted at the University of California Los Angeles, show that human touch triggers the release of oxytocin, in our brain. Oxytocin is-” 

“A neurotransmitter that increases feelings of trust, generosity and compassion, and decreases feelings of fear and anxiety, aka the love hormone.” You finish, smiling up at him reassuringly.

You knew Spencer began listing off random facts when he felt he’d made an atmosphere awkward. You’d started noticing these cues once the two of you began talking on the phone, so you made sure to ensure everything was fine to him. 

“Yeah, t-that’s the one.” Spencer mutters.

The brunette was always cut off while he tried to explain a statistic or fact. He knew it was never to hurt him in any way, but it still got frustrating for him when he was talked over.

When you cut him off on the other hand,  it is to finish his sentence and complete the fact. He was starting to see why so many people found this gesture romantic.

Your smile grows as you notice Spencer’s eyes downcast on your hands.

Rounding the corner deeper into your campus, you stop at a couple spots to tell Spencer more about your school life and how your studies were going.

“I can’t believe I’m really graduating this year.” You sigh dreamily, looking up into the sky.

“Do you have any ideas where you may want to work?” Spencer asks as you lead him to a fountain in the centre of a field.

“Well, not exactly, but I’ve still got time to decide.” You grin, digging into your pocket for something Spencer couldn’t see.

“You know the BAU will always be an option.” Spencer shrugs, watching you pull out a shiny quarter.

“I dunno doc. All that stuff might not be for me.” You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment before flipping the coin into the water of the fountain.

“Yeah I guess serial killers and psychopaths aren’t everyone's cup of tea.” Spencer says seriously, causing you to break out in a fit of giggles.

“Do you believe in wishes coming true Spence?” You continue laughing, pulling Spencer in the direction of your dorm.

Spencer’s head snaps up at his name, but his eyebrows furrow.

“Well the act of throwing valuables into water hasn’t always been for wishing, it used to be for worshipping gods and other deities, but as the years went by it became popularized to wish for things by throwing something of value into the basic fundamental of human life.” Spencer pauses looking to you apologetically.

“It’s okay Spence, I’m listening.” You smile.

“Oh okay- First used to honour gods, people began asking for favours such as a good harvest or for a loved one to get well from a sickness which is where wishing wells came from.” Spencer nods, squeezing your hand as a silent ‘thank you.’

“So to answer my question-” You draw on, looking curiously into Spencer’s hazel eyes.

“While there’s no sound science to prove anything, I don’t see why people can’t have something to believe in, as long as they understand if it doesn’t come true.” Spencer shrugs, stopping when you do, outside a large building.

“So I’ll take that as a yes, but.” You smirk.

“I suppose, besides sometimes the wishes do come true out of pure coincidence, but you can never say that.” Spencer shrugs.

“It sounds like you speak from experience.” You laugh, nudging him in the side.

“My friend Penelope wished I’d get my haircut, but didn’t tell me until I did, three months later.” Spencer chuckles.

Both of you knew you were supposed to say goodbye now, if you remained just standing there any longer you’d become a problem for sleep-deprived students. Not a good mix.

But neither of you could find the will to move, your hands stayed interlocked and your smiles remained as Spencer began talking more about a couple books and some more facts about wishing wells.

“Y/n?” A loud voice calls to you from afar. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” The voice chimes again, slowly getting closer.

“Oh I’m sorry Adira, I was meaning to tell you.” You apologize, letting go of Spencer’s hand to turn around and speak to the person calling you.

For a minute Spencer forgot how to function his hand, he just sort of hovered it in the air for a second, before regaining his train of thought and dropping his hand back to his side and turning.

“I’ve been worried sick y/n, you haven’t been answering your phone and with that ‘duplicator’ guy running around-” Adira begins, cutting off to wrap her arms around you. “Don’t do that again, please.”

“Alright, I’m sorry Adira, but I had a friend with me, see.” You smile, turning her to face Spencer.

“Hello.” Spencer greets awkwardly, placing his hands into his pockets and nodding.

“Wait he sounds just like-” Adira pauses. “That’s Doc?” They pause, jaw dropping as she begins tugging on your sleeve.

“Yes- that’s him.” You smile, tapping on her hand to try and get her to stop before your face overheats.

“Okay okay!” Adira laughs, rolling her eyes as she fixes her headscarf and extends her hand.

“Nice to finally meet you, y/n has not stopped talking about you since you started writing to each other-”

“Adira!” You intervene, bringing your hand to your face to hide your blush.

“Wow you’re even cuter than the photo-”

“Okay, we still have that project to work on right, let’s go.” You laugh nervously, pushing Adira towards the door of your dorm room as she remembers something.

“Oh right, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that.”

“Perfect, we’ll finish it up when we get inside.” You smile.

“Nice jacket by the way, where’d you get it?” Adira comments, poking the black suit jacket on your arm, and then back again at Spencer standing in a collared shirt and tie.

“Y/n!” She laughs teasingly, turning around and grabbing a hold of your shoulders.

“I’ll head in on my own, now have fun, but not too much fun.” She smirks, pushing you back towards Spencer before walking into the building and throwing you a wink.

“I-I’m-”

“There’s no need to apologize, I’m rather flattered you talk about me.” Spencer shrugs, looking down at the ground subtly.

“Well of course I do, you’ve become a big part of my life y’know.” You smile, taking Spencer’s large hands into yours.

Spencer smiles fondly, hiding the internal regret he held, the profiler had yet to tell any of his friends about you, wanting to have this one thing for himself in his twisted world.

Squeezing your hands, Spencer nods and glances down at his watch.

“I should get back to the station.” The brunette murmurs.

“You should get back to the station.” You reply, loosening your grip only for Spencer to pull you back.

“I-I’m happy I got to meet you by the way, please call me if you need anything, or just to talk.” Spencer pushes his lips back in a forced smile, he was reluctant to leave you alone.

“I will Spence. Catch that guy for me alright?” You smirk, wrapping Spencer in a short hug before shrugging off his jacket, placing it over Spencer’s shoulders and turning to finally walk into the building.

Spencer barely had time to react to your gesture, but while he processed it, he simply stood there. It was as though you had left an imprint of yourself on him, a reminder you were real, and really held him. He was truly awestruck.

His suit jacket held the faintest scent of your perfume, the feeling of your arms lingered on his torso and his hands still reached for yours though you were long gone.

This feeling was foreign to the brunette, but not rejected. Spencer quite enjoyed it after all.

After a few moments of not moving the brunette finally picks up his feet and turns to leave, not noticing the figure not too far away clenching his fists so hard, blood begins to trickle slowly out.

[lostinwildflowers]

i. He's Missing

A Sugawara Koshi X Reader Series

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: The Karasuno's volleyball team and the community of Miyagi are shaken with horror when their beloved captain is murdered.

Chapter Word Count: 3.6K

Chapter Warnings: character disappearance, character death, angst, some light fluff, police investigation/interrogation, basic murder mystery warnings

A/N: Well here we are! The first-ever chapter of my first-ever series! Everyone, welcome to Gone, a murder mystery series. PLEASE give me feedback on how you liked this, come yell in my inbox, or even comment! Reblogs and likes are much appreciated, I just want to know what y'all thought! Thanks everyone, enjoy! -Birch<3

Next Chapter: Friendly Conversations

Volleyball practice had run late that night, and all of the members of Karasuno’s volleyball team had gone home except for their captain, Daichi. He was closing up the club room and the gym since he had a few things to clear up before heading for his house.

It was around 10:00 pm on a Thursday evening whenever he locked the door, turning for his house. The moon was high in the sky, and though it wasn’t full, the small crescent cast down a faint, pale light on the Miyagi school through the slight haze of clouds.

That night, Daichi never returned back to his house. His mother had assumed that he went to stay at Sugawara’s house, as the boys were best friends and the grey-haired boy’s house was closer to the school than their own.

No one had heard from Daichi that evening either, granted it was a school night and their captain had probably gotten a shower, studied for a little, then went to bed. Nothing seemed to be out of the normal to everyone around Miyagi, no hints at the evil that occurred in the night.

The following morning, you met up with Suga as you did every morning, allowing him to hold your hand as he walked you to school. Both of you only had classes in the afternoon, so the two of you chatted carelessly and happily as you casually made your way toward the volleyball gym.

Just outside of the doors, you could hear the murmurs and barks of the team, loud voices that sounded spooked. As you round the corner and near the boys, Nishinoya runs up to you, eyes wide as he glances behind you, as if he was looking for someone.

He pants out quickly as he finds Suga’s gaze, “Have either of you heard or seen from Daichi? He’s always early and the club room and gym are still locked!”

You and Suga share a concerned glance as you see the rest of the team wandering up to the three of you. Asahi and Hinata both look concerned, their faces paling by the second as neither you nor Suga responds.

Suga just glances at everyone before slightly shaking his head no and he states, “No, I haven’t heard from him at all. We closed up pretty late last night, but Daichi said he had a few things to clear up, so he sent me home just after the rest of you.”

You can see the panic intensify on the faces of Asahi, Noya, and Hinata, and the three boys start to pace in nervousness. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were both nearby with the other three third years, but none of them seemed quite as disturbed as everyone else.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts as you say, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on. You’re saying no one has heard from Daichi? Has anyone tried to call him?”

Yamaguchi steps forward and pipes up nervously, “Uh yeah, Y/n. I called him this morning because I wanted to practice serves a little extra, but he didn’t pick up. He hasn’t looked at my texts either.”

Tanaka grabs onto Yamaguchi’s shoulders with a laugh and smile, trying to break up the tension as he chimes, “I bet he’s probably taking the day off! That guy is always so serious, talking about practicing all the time. Maybe he’s sleeping in!”

Hinata and Kageyama nod at Tanaka’s words, while Tsukishima just rolls his eyes and grunts, “Well if we are done causing a scene, I’d like to get to practice.”

The team just grumbles at Tsukishima’s blunt words and starts to grab their things, making their way up the steps toward the club room. Hinata and Kageyama race by, always on the move to try to one-up each other, meanwhile you turn back to Suga.

You grab your boyfriend’s shoulder gently, trying not to scare him as you look at his furrowed brows and concerned face. You blink softly up at him and whisper, “It’s alright babe. You have a key, don’t you? Mr. Co-captain~”

You smirk at the end of your words, trying to lift the mood a little bit. Suga looks down at you and gives you a wobbly smile and nods, “Yeah, I’ve got the spare key in my pocket. Let me go open up the club room for the guys, and then I’ll meet you down here by the gym.”

As his taller figure walks away, you see his face fall in thought from the corner of your eye. You frown, lips tugging down to one side as you think, Daichi, where the hell are you?

The boys go on to have a fairly regular practice, with Asahi helping Suga organize the team to run some drills. You keep an eye out for the brown-haired captain, but he isn’t seen all morning.

Even later in the day, Daichi doesn’t show up to any of his classes. He might not have been the perfect model student, but he studied hard and got good grades. Thus, his teachers were quite concerned when he didn’t show up or send an email about his absence.

At this point in the day, it was just around your lunch hour, so you text Suga, asking if he wanted to meet by the gym to chat before going to your afternoon classes. You get a text back almost immediately, Sure thing, Y/n. I’ll see you in a few minutes, sweetheart.

You smile at the text for a moment before frowning, realizing that Suga probably thought every text or call coming to him was going to be about Daichi or if he had responded. With that, you shove your phone into your pocket, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you make your way toward the volleyball gyms.

You arrive before Suga does, so you settle for scrolling through your phone, looking on social media to see if Daichi might have posted or shared something. A few moments pass before warm hands on your sides make you look up suddenly, your gaze catching onto Suga’s chocolate-colored eyes in an instant.

He gazes down at you with a soft and gentle smile, and you slide your phone into your pocket while leaning into his touch. Suga hums when you wrap your arms around his torso, and he gladly accepts the hug, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he squeezes you tight to his chest.

“I’m really worried about him, Y/n. He always answers his phone or tells us when he’s not coming. Heck, even his mom texts me when he’s sick and not coming in. Something isn’t right,” Suga mutters, eyes flicking down toward his feet as you pull away from his grasp.

You blink up at your boyfriend for a second, then you reach for his hand, lacing your fingers through his own. You take a moment to rub your thumb comfortingly on the backside of his hand, giving it a light squeeze to regain Suga’s attention. Suga’s features soften when he sees the care etched all over your face, and he lets another deep sigh fall from his lips.

You shrug your shoulders as you glance down for a second then you propose, “Babe, if you are really this worried about Daichi, we can always file a missing person report. I know it’s kind of drastic, but if no one has heard from him, it can’t hurt to have the police on the lookout for him.”

Suga hums lowly at your words, nodding along as he leans into you, brushing his nose against yours. His eyes gaze down into your own (colored) ones as he whispers, “You always know how to ground me, sweetheart, and I love you for that. I think I’ll call after my classes this afternoon, and I’ll probably drop by Daichi’s house once I walk you home.”

A giggle leaves your lips at your boyfriend’s sweet words and you let your free hand to play with the hair at the back of his neck for a second. You smile up at him, almost shyly as you murmur back, “I love you too, Suga. Now kiss me before things get even heavier to talk about.”

Suga can’t help but chuckle at your demand, and as he turns his head to latch his lips with your own, the minute bell rings out, signaling that the two of you would be late for class if you didn’t get a move on. His chuckle quickly turns into a groan, but he presses a quick peck on your lips before pulling away, your fingers slipping out of his as he backs up.

Suga’s classic smile returns to his face as he turns and waves at you, calling out over his shoulder, “I’ll see you after class, sweetheart.” You just wave back as you start walking to your own class, all of the worries about Daichi floating to the back of your mind.

Bright lights illuminate the dark room that Suga was sitting in, his brown eyes looking around for any source of comfort. It was Saturday, only two days after Daichi had disappeared. Suga had called to file a missing person’s report, and now here he was, getting interrogated by the police.

A large and uniformed man walks into the room, a presence about him that screamed “Don’t you even think about lying.” Suga takes a deep and shaky breath as the officer sits down in front of him, his gaze unwavering as he gauges the reaction of the teenager in front of him.

Suga manages to hold the officer’s gaze as he says wearily, “Hi, I’m Sugawara, I was the one who filed the missing person’s report.”

The officer nods and leans back in his chair and states, “Nice to meet you, Sugawara. I am Officer Daniel, and I’m here to ask you some questions about your friend Sawamura Daichi. Does that sound alright?”

Suga nods and glances away, hands fiddling in his lap as he waits for the officer to question him. Officer Daniel huffs at the nervous antics of your boyfriend and he grumbles, “Easy, kid. I’m not here to put you behind bars, or at least I hope not.”

Suga’s eyes widen at the officer’s joke and he tries to smile and nod, “Yeah, okay. Um, it’s funny because Daichi always talks about wanting to become a police officer. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me, he always is on top of things at practice, keeping all the younger students in line.”

Officer Daniel’s gaze intensifies as Suga tells him this and he asks, “So what exactly are you to Sawamura? Friend? Brother? Lover?”

Suga blinks in shock for a second, before holding up his hands and stuttering out, “Oh, no, no officer. I’m Daichi’s friend, well I guess best friend. We’ve known each other for three years now. Azumane Asahi is the third member of our friend group.”

Officer Daniel nods at the new information, scribbling down a few things here and there. He looks back up to Suga and questions, “You all three play volleyball together, is that correct?”

Suga again nods and says, “Yes sir, all three of us have played volleyball together since we were first years, and we are all third years now. I am Daichi’s co-captain, so I help him run practices or I pick up the slack whenever he’s feeling stressed out.”

The investigator nods, leaning forward as he pushes, “Sugawara, did you ever feel jealous that Daichi became the captain? Did you ever feel angry or upset that he had more responsibility than you?”

Suga glances away from Officer Daniel and shrugs, “I never was really bothered by it, Daichi has always treated us all with respect, he’s the perfect example of a leader. Asahi never felt left out either, as far as I know. Daichi has always been the perfect face of the team, and neither me or Asahi wanted to take that position onto ourselves. So no, I wasn’t jealous of him.”

A moment goes by without any talking, and Suga finds himself crossing his legs and continuing, “We all had volleyball practice the night he disappeared. We stopped playing around 9:15-9:20 p.m. Thursday evening, but then we all had to take the nets down and clean up the gym.”

Officer Daniel nods and writes something down before prodding, “So what time did everyone end up leaving the school that night?”

Suga looks to the side in thought, bringing one hand to scratch at his head before he says, “I think most of the team left around 9:45 or so? I remember that I stayed a few minutes later to see if Daichi needed help with anything, as captains we have to lock the gym and the club room.”

“Did you see anyone else lingering around before you left?” Officer Daniel asks, eyes closely watching Suga’s reactions. Suga just shakes his head and mumbles, “I didn’t see anything, the night was kind of dark, and it was pretty cloudy when I walked home.”

The two men sit in silence for a few minutes while Officer Daniel writes notes down. Suga anxiously shifts in the uncomfortable chair, waiting for the investigator in front of him to say anything.

Just as Suga was about to shift around again, Officer Daniel looks up and states, “Well, Sugawara, as of this moment, I think I have everything I need from you. I would like to talk to your friend, L/n Y/n, could you tell her to call the station some time tomorrow?”

Suga pipes out a small “yes”, and Officer Daniel stands up, offering his hand to the teen as he mutters, “If you remember anything else or find something out that you think might be connected to Sawamura’s disappearance, just give us a call, okay?”

Suga nods one last time, shaking Officer Daniel’s hand before leaving the interrogation room, a sigh of relief leaving his lips as he makes his way out of the police station.

Once he made it onto the side street, Suga pulls out his phone, looking for any new notifications. When he doesn’t see any, a slight frown tugs on his lips, but he quickly dials your number as he walks.

His phone rings a few times before he hears a cheery, “Hey babe!” Suga’s frown slides into an easy smile as he chuckles back, “Hey, sweetheart. I just got out of the police station now, is it alright if I come over? I just...”

Suga’s voice trails off and his gaze slides to the ground, and he hears you quirk up, “Do you want to cuddle and just relax, babe? You’re always more than welcome to come over.”

Suga sighs again in relief and he nods slightly as he murmurs, “Yeah, Y/n/n. I just really need you. I’ll be at your house in 15 minutes or so, okay? I love you.”

You smile lazily into your phone as you reply, “I love you too, Ko. Please be safe and text me if anything gets weird out there, okay?”

“Alright babe, I will. See you in a bit,” Suga pulls the phone away from his head, clicking the “end call” button before sliding it into his pocket. Suga glances at his surroundings, looking to see if anyone was around before quickening his pace in the direction of your house.

A knock on your front door draws you away from your notebook, and you set your pencil down in a hurry as you catch a glimpse of grey hair from your window. You scramble to the door, flinging it open to be met with Suga’s smiling face.

You immediately pull him into a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. You feel Suga rest his head on the top of your own, his arms firmly securing themselves around your waist.

“Hi,” you mumble quietly into his chest, taking a deep breath in to remind yourself that Suga was still with you. Suga hums for a second before he whispers back, “Hi, sweetheart.”

You both stay interlocked for a moment, allowing yourselves to feel comfort in each other as the clock ticks by. Eventually, you start to pull away, and Suga loosens his grip around your back, his hands finding your own as he gazes down at you lovingly.

You smile up at him and nod upstairs, “Do you want to go up a while? I’m going to grab something to drink and then we can chat.”

Suga just squeezes your hand with a grateful smile, kicking his shoes off before finding his way up to your room. He had been in your room many times, so he immediately finds a sense of peace in the familiar walls and the desk hiding in the corner of the room.

He lays down on your bed, eyes staring at the slowly moving fan on the ceiling. Suga can hear you coming up the stairs now, and he turns his brown eyes to the door frame, where you had just appeared.

You hand him a glass of water as he sits up, and he mumbles out a thank you before he takes a sip. You end up sliding into the chair by your desk, setting your own water down and turning toward your boyfriend.

Suga just stares straight ahead for a minute, his head racing with possibilities, and he’s only drawn back to reality when he sees you move in front of him, concern on your features as you brush a piece of hair out of his face and grab his glass of water, setting it behind you.

“They want to interview you,” Suga blurts out, his eyes widening at his own bluntness. You can feel dread build up in your stomach as your eyes narrow and brows furrow. You just nod once and say, “Alright, I’m innocent, so there isn’t anything to worry about, babe. We’ll be okay.”

Suga just tugs your waist pulling you onto his lap, burying his face in your neck. He doesn’t say anything for a while, allowing himself to breathe in your scent and hold you close to his body.

The silence in the room is loud, but neither of you seems to mind, and neither of you says anything. When your legs start to cramp from the angle at which you are sitting you whisper to him, “Babe, can we lie down?”

Suga pulls back in an instant, worry flooding his features as he grumbles, “Yeah shit, I’m sorry Y/n. I’m kinda out of it today. Sorry babe.”

With that, Suga scoots up toward your headboard, his head landing on a fluffy pillow as he opens his arms to you, inviting you to lay on his chest. You smile up at him, making sweater paws before crawling over to him, tossing one arm and leg over his body, laying your cheek to his pec.

“I’ve been cleared as a suspect,” Suga says quietly, his voice flat and emotionless. You glance up at him to see his brown eyes fixed on the ceiling fan again.

You shuffle a little to get comfortable and you reply, “Well that’s good, Koshi. That means once we are both cleared we can start campaigning for Daichi and his family without the police needing to be involved.”

Suga lets a grunt fall from his lips in response, and you feel your mood drop at the stoicism of your boyfriend. You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger to try to grab his attention.

It seems to work because Suga looks down at you, an eyebrow raised at the gentle sign of affection. You blink at him dumbly, your (colored) eyes wide in feign innocence.

A small grin starts to appear on Suga’s face, and he tips his head down to press his lips against your own in a searing kiss. It’s comforting, warm, and so very Suga.

You had been worried in the last few days about him, as Daichi was his best friend. Suga’s mental state had taken a bad beating whenever Daichi didn’t show up on Friday either, so it was relieving to have your lover kiss you like normal.

Suga allows one of his hands to caress the back of your head, deepening the kiss as he changed the angle of your face ever so slightly. You couldn’t help but gasp in between each kiss, the feeling of Suga alone enough to distract you from everything around you.

After a tugging on your bottom lip, Suga pulls away with a smirk on his lips. He looks at you lovingly as he teases, “Is that what you wanted, sweetheart?”

You giggle up at him, pecking his lips and whispering against him, “It’s not my fault I’ve been missing you.”

The two of you chuckle quietly for a moment, allowing each other’s warmth to lull the other off to sleep. At that moment, the world was a little less hectic, and while Daichi was still missing, the two of you had found a tiny sliver of peace.

Little did either of you know, that the news was telling a breaking new story. The headline read:

A BODY HAS BEEN FOUND IN THE WOODS BEHIND KARASUNO HIGH SCHOOL - MORE INFORMATION TO COME AS THE POLICE CONTINUE THEIR INVESTIGATION.

Taglist:

@melodyofroses @haikyuutothetop @levilaughlove69 @mortedeveles @arroelin @peachy-momos @kmorgzz @miatsubaki23 @oreogutz @mysterystarz

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

Correspondence, Chapter 04

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary:  An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: Action-y in that there is offscreen violence and peril, injuries, talk of surgery and symptoms/effects of medical grade narcotics (morphine), more on that big ol’ age difference. Side notes: Agent Anderson of the L.A. field office has no relation to Agent Anderson of Quantico, VA, because Agent Anderson of the BAU is a national treasure. (I’m considering going back and renaming the OC, but as of right now this is the last we hear of him for a while). And I know no one really pays attention to them, but the time stamps on the texts match the time zone of the scene setting. Set in season 6, self beta’d.

Word Count: 8893

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

--

Chapter 04

--

Late September 2010

--

Spencer Reid wakes up to the early grey morning two weeks later, a perpetual haze shrouding his room long before his alarm was supposed to rouse him. He reaches blindly, blearing eyed and checks his phone for what feels like the hundredth time, only to find no messages waiting for him. A terrible, horrid feeling has been clawing at his chest and throat the longer it gets -- the more time that passes -- and he still hasn’t heard from Hotch. 

They’ve been messaging each other near constantly for months now, and it only seemed to get more intense after that fateful talk at the beginning of September. Where Hotch finally revealed he’d thought Spencer was much older than him, and not the other way around. Spencer had set him straight, as much as he could, and even that had been nerve-wracking to say the least. The two men were crossing into a territory neither really wanted to put a label on, and Spencer was both afraid of it and excited by it. Of what it could mean, and how long it could last, but he’d thought he’d had time to figure out a solution to his inadvertent secrecy.

Then, Hotch began working a case in Delaware two days ago. 

It seemed like a textbook unsub; maybe a little aggressive with anti-establishment overtones, but nothing they couldn’t handle. Nothing the BAU hasn’t seen before. They’d been closing in on the suspect, no location yet but some prospects that needed checking out, and the last Spencer had heard from Hotch…

It had been lunchtime for him, and midafternoon for the older man. The exchange hadn’t been anything of consequence, just their usual, easy correspondence. Hotch was going to check out that lead they’d spoken of, Spencer had a budget meeting as soon as he was done eating in the middle of his office hours, and they had a plan to play chess online that night. Hotch is still terrible at it, but he keeps coming back no matter how thoroughly Spencer wipes the floor with him. Now, sometimes they just forget about the game entirely after the first few minutes. It makes him smile each and every time, soft and fond and lighting a warmth inside him Spencer has… never felt before. 

Then Hotch hadn’t messaged him the rest of the night.

Hadn’t shown up online to play chess.

Hadn’t texted him goodnight, or even sent him an update on the case. 

Nothing in their conversations warranted such ostracization, and although Spencer has been ‘ghosted’ before (as his doctoral students would say) he knows Hotch would never do that. Not after everything, the history they’ve built the past months -- leaving nothing but the dread to sink in and spread like a stain.

All night, he imagines the worst.

By morning, he all but expects it.

--

[]9/22, 18:59[] Are you alright? Did something happen with the case?

[]9/22, 19:10[] If you were that scared of losing at chess, I can also beat you at online poker instead.

[]9/22, 19:30[] I’d suggest scrabble but that’s honestly not fair to you.

[]9/22, 21:55[] Hotch? 

[]9/22, 22:30[] I’m assuming that lead panned out, and you caught your unsub and are neck deep in interrogation.

[]9/22, 22:36[] I don’t want to imagine anything else, so that’s what I will picture.

[]9/23, 00:06[] Hotch please answer me. 

[]9/23, 05:32[] Please be okay.

--

Spencer arrives at Caltech looking a little more of a mess than usual. More than most are used to seeing him, at least, and it causes a few second glances from students he passes and other faculty -- but he really can’t find it in himself to care, this morning. His unruly curls, getting longer again, falling into his face and over his ears, are frizzy in their unkemptness. Bags under his eyes, normal, but he’s settled for glasses instead of his contacts. He has a spare pair in his desk, he’ll have to change them before class. His glasses somehow always make him look even younger. A mystery that boggles the mind, because once he had grown into his face a few years ago (around 26 or 27, close enough he had worried he would forever be cursed with a ‘baby face’) Spencer had thought he would finally be getting away from that. 

And yet, square jaw and ‘grandpa’ glasses and thin frame towering just over six feet did nothing in the slightest to aid him. Certainly not stopping a man outside the campus coffee shop from shouting “Watch where you’re going, kid!” as he near barrels over him on the sidewalk. Not his sweater vest or half suits, attire straight out of a 1940’s noir film (he’d even sported a vintage inspired undercut with his waves combed over for a while there, too. Way too much upkeep, as nice as it looked). Nothing makes him any more grown up in the eyes of the unsuspecting world, than he’d been without his five doctorates and board of director’s seat. No matter what he tried, it seems.

This has been a subliminal thing for years, something Spencer always said didn’t bother him in the slightest. And for a long time he didn’t care one way or the other, he just kept getting more degrees. All his life Spencer has been ‘too young’, always been ‘kid’ or ‘sport’ or ‘tiger’, even when running quantum physics equations in his head. And it didn’t matter. Not with his credentials and accomplishments and everything he now has to his name.

Until Hotch.

Now, Spencer cares.

Notices, even through his haze of worry and sleeplessness, how on the street it’s “Watch it, kid!” and fifteen yards later it’s “Good morning, Dr. Reid” as he steps into the Physics building where everyone knows him on sight. Knows him, and what he’s capable of. 

What if when Hotch met him all he saw was… another kid? 

If they ever met.

“Whoa, rough night Dr. Reid?” 

“Yes, you could say that,” he mumbles out as he signs in and scans his ID card, taking the stack of mail that the desk attendant hands him. But stops before he gets too far from the desk, backtracking. “Hey, have you watched the news this morning? Did anything show up about New England or Delaware?”

“Not that I saw, Dr. Reid,” she says in confusion, looking up from where she had been texting on her phone. “Just a whole lot of coverage on the shitshow at capital hill, as usual. Oh, and more depressing reports about the earthquake clean-up in New Zealand.” 

Of course, why would there be a news story about a killer in Delaware here in California. He’d have to look up everything online himself. 

“Thanks anyway, Carla.”

“No problem, Dr. Reid.”

-

Spencer spends way too long online that morning, searching for anything about the case Hotch and his team are working. He usually prefers paper copies of news media, at first barely knowing where to begin, but he falls into a wormhole of news outlets and local Delaware station websites, reading the thousands of webpages faster than he can scroll and click through them. But he can’t find anything pointing to a disturbance related to the case. There's nothing about a raid, or a shooting, or even an arrest -- which could all just be a part of the ongoing media blackout -- but it also does nothing to stop him from panicking. Spencer gives up after an hour, and diverts to other resources. Ones with a direct line to Hotch. 

With a drafted email pulled up to Ms. Penelope Garcia, the BAU's personal tech analyst, he ponders how to... even word this without it sounding too personal. Too much like he and Hotch have more than just a working relationship.

Because they do. They have... something.

Something that gives him fluttering sensations in his stomach, makes him check his phone constantly, and react to even the slightest chime similar to his text tone. Makes him smile when he sees Hotch's name on his notifications, in his email inbox, makes him message the man in the middle of the day at the most random thoughts. Just because he wants to make him laugh.

[]8/21, 15:36[] You're going to get me in trouble.

[]8/21, 15:38[] You didn’t laugh in front of your team, did you? The scandal.

[]8/21, 15:42[] I'm at a crime scene. There's a dead body in front of me.

[]8/21, 15:43[] Then why are you checking your phone?

[]8/21, 15:45[] You know why.

But that’s not something that is shared with the rest of the team, he’s sure. So he should be careful how he words his email, lest Ms. Garcia realize that Spencer isn’t asking purely as a colleague. 

Surely they know he has friends, though?

Chewing his lip, Spencer types out a brief email asking if Agent Hotchner is feeling well since he missed an appointment the night before and hasn’t been returning his calls. It’s a phrase he’s used often, so it comes naturally to Spencer as he types it out, and he realizes… he hasn’t called. He’s sent a dozen text messages, but not a phone call. Never a phone call. That was against the rules, the unspoken ones that always kept this friendship easy and free-flowing and evolving into something more.

But this feels like the closest to an emergency they’ve ever encountered before.  

He looks to his phone beside him on his desk, and tries to fight back the dueling forms of panic clawing at his chest. Listed in bullet points behind his eyes. Panic that Hotch might not answer, panic what that means for the man he’s been… becoming more and more inclined to than any other person he’s met in so long. Panic if he does answer, breaking that barrier of written words to spoken, and the opportunity to hear Hotch’s voice. But he would also hear Spencer’s, and then there would be no hiding just how… how young he really is. He still didn’t have a plan for that, wracking his overworked brain day and night for a way to incorporate the information into a conversation that wouldn’t stop everything in its tracks. 

But his phone is in his hand before he can stop himself, Hotch’s contact pulled up and his thumb hovering over the phone number with baited breath. 

Was he really going to do this?

He presses the touch screen and can hear the line connecting, the dial tone ring even before he gets the phone up to his ear and waits. It rings, and rings, and rings a fourth time -- before clicking over to voicemail. And Spencer’s hyper-fast thought processes fail him as he realizes far too late that he’s going to hear Hotch’s voice for the first time, anyway. Frozen in a panic, unsure if he wants to or if that had been something he wanted them to do together that the seconds slip by like water through his fingers and suddenly it’s too late.

“You’ve reached the voicemail box of -- (703)-567-8790 -- this caller is not available. Please leave a message after the tone--”

It’s an automated, female voice that rattles off the numbers and generic call back message, and Spencer hangs up before it can begin recording him. Exhaling a shaky breath, relief a flash flood on his nerves that nothing had been ruined between him and Hotch thanks to an ill-timed phone call. 

He keeps the momentum going without much thought, and adjusts his email to Ms. Garcia before sending it. 

It feels so understated, and yet over dramatic the more he thinks about it. The more he reads it.

.

Please let me know of his well-being.

.

God, no wonder Hotch thought he was in his 60’s. 

But Spencer has to keep the façade up, for now, not give away anything he doesn’t want to just because the emotional part of his brain is running rampant over the rational one. There are… many explanations as to why Hotch isn’t answering him. His gut feeling aside, he doesn’t need to be panicking like this. The world is still turning, he still has work to do, so Spencer tries to gather himself into some semblance of order and preps to talk to his doctoral students within the hour.

--

His morning routine progresses as usual, as if nothing at all is wrong with the world. Dr. Reid has his mandatory round up with his doctoral candidates going over thesis and dissertation parameters, class lecture schedules, updates, the works. Like morning announcements, but he requires them all to be there and to listen, and they all show up. Everyone knows of Spencer’s eidetic memory. He will certainly not forget a single date or schedule change, and he expects his students to not forget as well. 

But this morning Spencer is fully distracted, his mind elsewhere, somewhere in the state of Delaware with an agent who may or may not be in danger. Because Spencer cannot shake the feeling that something is wrong. It almost seems more like a fact than a feeling. The juxtaposition of his daily routine and this unfounded worry throws him entirely off kilter, and all of his students seem to know right away. 

Then, his distraction reaches its peak when his email pings, right in the middle of his department announcements. A response from Ms. Garcia of Quantico, VA flashing across his laptop screen. Spencer’s eyes skim the preview sentence in the pop-up box, and his voice trails off as his mind… whirls. 

.

Dr. Reid, I’m sorry to tell you I don’t know when Hotch will be available again. There was an incident, and he’s still in surg-

.

Surgery.

Surgery.

That vice-like grip of worry that has taken hold of him since last night tightens further, to the point Spencer can’t breathe. Hotch is in surgery, Hotch is hurt, and if he hasn’t been answering his phone since last night -- or even late yesterday afternoon -- it was not a minor thing.

Hotch is hurt. 

She doesn’t know when he will be--

If he will be --

“Dr. Reid? Are you okay?”

“I--” he’s still looking at the email pop-up box, and is clicking on it before he can stop himself. Immediately disconnecting his laptop from the projector as his email loads there. It takes him a fraction of a second to read the email. “I’m sorry, an emergency just came up. Kimmy, finish reading off the schedule for me?” He doesn’t even wait until she answers him, just picks up his laptop and retreats to his office as fast as his long legs will carry him.

.

--surgery and we’re still waiting on word. I know you 2 talk on the reg so I’ll keep you posted. 

Fret not, genius professor, our fearless leader has been through much worse than this.

.

She’s using informal speech patterns, which she has never done before. It bleeds her nervousness, and worries Spencer even more. Teetering on the edge of panic. Ms. Garcia also revealed she knows he and Hotch talk, but surprisingly that doesn’t have the effect he thought it would on his already rattled nerves. Instead, any and all reservations fall away as he types out a response much in the same way he and Hotch had started their friendship all those months ago.

.

Please, is there anything you are allowed to tell me about the case or his condition? We --

.

Spencer pauses, bites his lip as he considers crossing this boundary into the uncomfortable unknown, and then thinks about Hotch on a hospital operating table three thousand miles away.

“Screw it,” he mutters and continues to type.

.

--We’ve become good friends and I’m very worried.

.

The reply is almost immediate.

.

That makes 2 of us, boy wonder, but I’m already hacked into the hospital records database and Prentiss is in the waiting room for any immediate actions.

I’m sending you the case files and the incident report from last night. Maybe you can see some shiz we can’t b/c the bossman is tough but he’s been in surgery a long time. 

.

Of course, whatever he can do to help. Spencer’s heavy heart-beat triples in his chest as pulls up the files and immediately prints them out so he can read through them faster. Utilizing anything and everything he can do to aid the BAU team, and whatever Hotch has gotten himself into. But then, his mind sticks on something from the email. Boy Wonder. It stalls his hands mid-movement.

Ms. Garcia knows how young he is.

She must have done a background check on him, that would make sense since he’s been consulting so much lately. But why would Garcia know his age, and not Hotch? Wouldn’t she send the files to him directly? Had Hotch really known, all along?

Or did she do it on her own, and not tell him? Assuming her boss already knew everything about him. It’s too many questions and possibilities and they are interfering with what’s most important right now. Best to get it out of the way, no time to be indirect about it.

.

Ms. Garcia, did you update my dossier with the bureau after you ran my background check?

.

If you’re referring to why Hotch seems to think you’re rocking the senior discount at restaurants and not still getting carded for beer, then no I didn’t update it. I’m very anti-gov files having every detail of our lives in them, that’s what   I’m for, and I figured there was a reason he didn’t know. Your secret is safe with me, sugar bean.

.

Spencer hadn’t meant for it to be a secret at all, it just happened that way. 

The real reason is Agent Anderson of the LA field office is a dick, with a bully streak he never outgrew after high school, and didn’t bother filling out a full file on him the first time Spencer consulted for the FBI. Then, he couldn’t be bothered to update it when his consultations became more than a one time thing.

But that was all in the past now, and Spencer can’t even be upset about it. Because now he has Hotch.

.

Thank you, Ms. Garcia. I’ll let you know my findings soon.

.

He skims the file quickly, pulling information out at lightning speed. It appears a very straight-forward case. As straight-forward as a murderous sociopath can be, anyway. Very anti-establishment, like he and Hotch had discussed the previous day, aiming for specified targets that devolved to anyone in a uniform. Anyone who appears too official, or labels as official. 

It’s easy to see, now, why the unsub attacked Hotch instead of running from him. He practically served himself up on a silver platter. But there’s something about the kills that’s bothering Spencer. The knife wounds, bludgeoning, even the gunshots during the first murders when the unsub still hesitated -- it’s all overkill. Rage. Every single target has died from massive internal bleeding, M.E. reports all label the knife wounds and beatings as the cause. But the amount of blood left over, measured during autopsy, doesn’t add up. They bled too much. No wounds indicating intentional bleeding occurred, and the tox screens are all clean. 

Except, every victim’s hospital records show elevated potassium rates. Spencer’s hands, skimming down each and every page quick as they can, stop on a dime as his gaze zero in on the information. 

“Oh, God,” Spencer whispers, quiet and horrified. “--Hotch.”

There’s no time for email.

He picks up his phone, goes to an older email that has full contact details in the footer, and dials Ms. Garcia’s direct line in Quantico.

“Speak, and behold greatness.”

“Ms. Garcia, it’s Dr. Reid,” Spencer says, and his tone and quickened speech patterns gives way to his panic.

“Dr-- Dr.  Reid?” 

“Yes, quick there’s no time. Do you have Hotch’s hospital records in front of you still?” 

“Yes,” Garcia says, her voice a musical thing even in it’s breathless reaction to his heightened state of haste. “Updated every two minutes.”

“Is his potassium elevated?”

Some quick typing of keys that move faster than even he could ever hope to type. “...Yes.”

God. “Okay, okay I need you to call the hospital right now,” Spencer says in a spiel that all sounds like one word. “Whatever you have to do, he needs Sodium Polystyrene Sulfonate as soon as possible, to counteract the chemical imbalance or he’s going to go into kidney failure and bleed out.” 

There’s more typing going on and Ms. Garcia’s breathing has gone a little labored.

“Alright, alright I’m getting patched through. What else can you tell me?”

“I think he’s been dosed with something called an XG Compound, either Eastman or Zhao I have to look up the specific components and chemist. But they are a series of banned, experimental military-grade drugs that suffer effects of thinning the blood, that’s why they can’t stop the bleeding around his stab wounds and old scar tissue.” Hotch’s old wounds from Foyet would only exacerbate the condition, once it reached the kidney failure stage, but up until then the intrusions of hardened tissue is the only reason his abdominal cavity hasn’t been flooded with blood and drowned out his other organs. 

“Okay, okay I’m through, I’m keeping you on the line. Stand by-- ” then she clicks over and he’s left with a pulsating silence. Nothing remaining but continuing his work, and hoping he’d called in time. Hoping that Hotch will be alright.

--

Spencer is digging through his floor to ceiling bookshelves for the biology book on airborne pathogens given to him by a visiting Professor two years ago and he is hating himself for never cracking it in that moment. It’s nearly the last book he gets a hand on, because of course it is, and he makes it a third of the way through the book before Garcia is back on the line. The phone on the floor beside him and just barely within reach. 

“You literal genius, I could kiss you,” Garcia tells him in what can only be overstated relief, and Spencer snatches up his phone with a very undignified scramble. “They’ve had to do two transfusions on him and are prepping a third, but you were right he’s been dosed with that XG compound.”

“He’s going to be okay?” Spencer asks, still cross-legged on his office floor surrounded by books and holding his phone to his ear like a lifeline.

“Yes, yes my dear he’s going to be alright. They think. He’s not out of the woods yet and the surgery is still going on, but he -- he would have died within the next hour if you hadn’t found out what was wrong.”

Spencer’s heart is in his throat, her words doing the exact opposite of reassuring him. Hotch had been that close to dying, to being forever out of reach, because Spencer had been too scared to pick up the phone. 

“I should have called sooner,” he says, so quiet even someone in the room wouldn’t have heard him correctly. “I knew something was wrong.”

“Oh no, sugar don’t think like that. You just saved his life,” she pauses, like she wants to say something else, but diverts to an adjacent topic. “How did you know?”

“Autopsy reports. There wasn’t enough blood left in the bodies, they bled out too quickly. Then I saw the elevated Potassium,” he murmurs it all, rattled off without really thinking about it.

“And you just… knew all of that, without looking anything up?”

“That’s basically what I do. The only reason anyone calls me,” Spencer laughs but it holds no humor. “I know too much, make connections, and drink too much coffee.” 

“You drink and know things, oh God I hope you get that reference because you’re getting a coffee mug.”

Spencer laughs a little, despite the situation, and feels… lighter, somehow, even with the worry still plaguing him. Caught up in his chest like a bad cold. 

“I’m reading this textbook on airborne pathogens, I have a hunch, and I’ll send you anything I find that can help with the case,” Spencer continues, his voice not so heavy for a moment. “Just… tell me when he’s out of surgery? Keep me posted?”

“Of course, honey, you’ll be my first message,” Ms. Garcia assures him, but then she pauses again -- and he almost hangs up because it feels too anticipatory. “You should tell him, B.T.Dubs.”

Spencer hesitates more than is probably necessary.

“... I don’t know what good that will do,” he admits, quiet and unsure. “I’m not -- I’m not ready for this to be over.”

“You’re not that young, honey. Does he know you like him?”

“Mmhmm,” Spencer makes a nervous, affirmative sound. “And… he likes me, or who he thinks I am.”

“Don’t write him off just yet, Doc, let him speak for himself when he wakes up,”  Ms. Garcia all but scolds him, in as gentle a way as possible and Spencer appreciates that, at least. 

“--I’ll think about it.” 

--

Not long after Spencer finds what he’s looking for: military grade poisons that were banned for causing adverse effects, listed and categorized by chemist and agency. It is the Eastman compound, originated during the first invasion of Afghanistan. Their unsub has prolonged exposure, Spencer is sure, and that will narrow down the suspect pool immensely.

After he sends the information to Ms. Garcia, Spencer looks to his phone once more, where there is a block of text all from him himself in his correspondence with Hotch. Begging him to be alright, to answer him, and now that he knows that the man has a fighting chance -- or as much of one as he will be able to have, with where advanced medicine resides in the current conjecture of time -- there really isn’t much he can do now. But hope. And wait. And pray.

Except Spencer doesn’t believe in prayer, or God, or anything that might hear him. The only thing he really believes in is science, and facts, and none of that is very helpful to him right now. Except maybe the coincidental balance of the universe, in a theoretical physics sense, and unexplained phenomenon that have an equal and spatial balance to it. Anything with the descriptor ‘unexplained’ always draws him in like a moth to flame, and he knows he can typically find a semblance of comfort in the way his brain constantly connects dots and far off specks of information that not everyone can see at first glance. Constellations in the sky. But only when he has someone to tell it to, that even pretends to listen for a moment, and for a long while now… Hotch has been that someone. Hotch always listens to him.

Before he knows it, he’s typing into the text box once more --

[]9/23, 11:10[] You’re in surgery still, but Ms. Garcia has confirmed the treatments are working and they are able to actually repair the damage instead of treading water like they have been the past ten hours. I’ve had her personally in contact with the doctors and surgical staff, and all they’ve been able to tell us is to let them work and just pray for you.

[]9/23, 11:13[] Which is such an odd thing; men of science telling people to pray like the outcome of a surgery isn’t in their hands, but some theoretical astronomical entity. I know it’s probably just a ‘bedside-manner’ tactic, but it doesn’t help me in the slightest so it just irks me instead.

[]9/23, 11:15[] I don’t believe in prayer -- a shock, I’m sure -- but I do believe in the phenomenon of universal affirmation. It’s an interesting trend in history and spans cultures where if someone has something awaiting them, to live for, even if they are unaware of it… they will fight harder to cling to life. 

[]9/23, 11:18[] But I also know you will fight tooth and nail for Jack, and for your team that you treat like family, and maybe even me. I’d like to hope I’m included in that, and no amount of books or IQ points can make me think of something to contribute to help you keep fighting.

[]9/23, 11:19[] Just please keep fighting. Come back. And if I come up with something to entice you… I’ll let you know.

It eases a lot of the tension in his chest, talking to Hotch like this -- even if he’s just talking at him, in a place where he might never know what Spencer has had to say. But he can hope. Hope that Hotch will wake up and have thirty missed messages and see they are all from Spencer and it will make him smile. 

Spencer would give anything to see him smile, and he allows himself to hope that one day... he might get to. 

He might as well, while he’s sitting there hopelessly hoping for things beyond his control. 

Come back to me.

Spencer almost types it out, can see it in the text window though he hasn’t pressed a single letter, and closes his phone before he can. Pressing it to his mouth and closing his eyes and just… 

Hoping.

--

The hours roll over into the afternoon, and there’s still no word. 

Spencer has spent the majority of the day messaging Ms. Garcia, who has had no information beyond trivial updates here and there and Spencer has read more about surgical procedures and practices than he has in his entire life. Even raided the biology department’s library, surrounding himself with the comfort of books and files and filled his head with the soothing monotony of medical terms and safety protocols. 

But once noon has come and gone he finds himself staring into the bookshelves across from where he sits on the floor, among stacks of textbooks, with an epiphany trying to make itself known to him. Despite his every attempt to ignore it. 

His phone is back in his hand, there’s an email correspondence from Ms. Garcia that only briefly says Still nothing. And that makes up Spencer’s mind. 

[]9/23, 12:49[] I’ve thought of something.

What he types next makes it hard to breathe, his heart lodged in his throat, and it all comes flowing out of him much like before. His fingers keep moving, his emotional part of his brain steam-rolls over the rational one, and then he’s done and he’s tacked on six extra messages and Spencer has to put his phone away before he rereads it beyond what is deemed healthy or sane. 

Because he’s done what he could, and all he can do is believe that will be enough to… subliminally keep Hotch fighting. The day is only half over, and Spencer feels like he hasn’t slept in a week. 

It would be hours before he got the message that would send relief through his spine like a shot of Novocain. Just three words from Ms. Garcia, sent in haste in a text instead of an email.

{}9/23, 14:58{} He’s in recovery.

--

Hotch wakes up just barely the first time, the room spinning and hit with that familiar smell of anesthesia he can always taste as it fills his senses, before he slips back under. 

The second time is to a small pencil light being flashed in his eyes, staccato movements meant to test his pupil reactions, and an older woman in nurse’s scrubs saying his name and calling to him. He hums an affirmative, even though he isn’t fully returned to a working state of mind. Instinct, more than clarity.

“Welcome back, Agent Hotchner.”

“About damn time,” he hears Prentiss say from somewhere across the room. Probably leaning the wall, if that faux drone is anything to go by. The nurse gives her a look but his agent isn’t even fazed by it, as far as Hotch can see. It takes him a moment for his eyes to adjust that far. But he knows the look well enough he doesn’t actually have to see it. 

“Where is everyone? Is anyone else hurt?” Hotch can feel the words form on his tongue, droned out in a haze, his mind slowly coming back to him. 

“Good to see you, too, boss,” Prentiss says in mild exacerbation, coming up to the side of his bed but not taking a seat. She must have been waiting a long time, her whole stance jittery just like after long flights on cases. “Everyone is fine, you’re the only one that got into a knife fight with an unsub who’s into biological warfare.” Hotch blinks at her, trying to make her words make sense without asking it of her. He remembers going to a warehouse to follow a lead, but not much else after that. It’s coming back too slowly to keep up with her. Prentiss just sighs, and repeats herself. “Everyone is fine.” 

She regales him with a play by play, his own memories appearing like raindrops on a windshield to accompany her commentary. Slowly beginning to form a picture of what had happened. He’d been stabbed before, more than he cares to think about, and he’s been dosed with military-grade drugs before as well -- but never both at the same time. No wonder he feels like he’s been hit by a truck.

“You’re lucky to be alive, honestly,” she points out, hip resting against the plastic side panels of his hospital bed. 

“Yeah, I’m gathering that.”

“And your phone has been blowing up like crazy.” 

Hotch is finally able to sit up enough and see straight without his vision swimming, to find that his agent does indeed have his cell phone in her hands. 

“What?”

“Yeah, eight missed calls and three voicemails, and--” she squints at the screen before looking at him in astonished confusion, “eighty-seven missed text messages, from a whole bunch of people. I’m not reading through all of them. I didn’t know you were that popular.” 

“I’m the Unit Chief, popularity has nothing to do with it,” Hotch deadpans, more himself. Wanting to reach for his phone but his arms are still dealing with pins and needles sensations, sluggish to lift and his fingers uncooperative. “Who called me eight times?”

“Let’s see,” she unlocks his phone -- somehow, god damn it Prentiss -- and scrolls through his notifications. “Two calls from Jessica, one from me, three from Strauss (Jesus), one from Dr. Reid, and one from Garcia. It doesn’t say who the voicemails are from.”

Hotch suddenly feels much more alert, his heart rate monitor picking up but he does his best not to draw attention to it, instead looking up at Prentiss as carefully guarded as he ever is. 

“Dr. Reid called?” he tries to keep his voice even, and unaffected, but the aftereffects of the drugs in his system leave a little more hitch in his voice than he would have liked. 

“Yeah, he’s been talking to Garcia,” Prentiss says without much comment, still scrolling through his phone and making Hotch a little more than nervous. “Busted the case wide open, and saved your life while he was at it. We never would have known you were dosed with something if he hadn’t figured it out. Think you owe that old man a fruit basket.”

“Can I have my phone back?” 

“Don’t think you’re supposed to have it,” she says without looking up, still scrolling through his notifications. “Lots of junk e-mail…”

“One of those voicemails is probably Jack, I should call and let them know I’m alright,” Hotch tries to reason with her.

“He and Jess are already on their way up, they’ll land in an hour,” Prentiss tells him, but looks over her shoulder for that nurse as she makes to hand Hotch his phone anyway. Still hesitant despite her predilections to breaking every rule she can get away with.

“I still want it back,” Hotch insists, regretting saying it as soon as he does.

It catches Prentiss’ attention a little too sharply. “...why?” But at Hotch’s steady stare and solid silence, unwavering like he hadn’t just been in surgery for hours on end, she finally relents and hands it over, still giving him a suspicious look. 

“It’s important,” he finally admits, when she doesn’t stop staring for a good couple of minutes. Those perfectly shaped eyebrows raise near to her hairline, the profiler in her connecting more dots than should be humanly possible. 

A small smile teases her lips, though not fully forming there. “Now I wish I’d read them.” 

Hotch just gives her a reprimanding look of his own, but it’s short lived.

“Thank you, for staying.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Prentiss assures him, her smile going softer. “I’ll leave you to your mystery woman.” A beat, another raised eyebrow. “Person.” A knowing look, but then she exits and Hotch is able to look at his phone at his own discretion. 

- 

Hotch goes through the text messages with a brief glance; there’s so many of them. Other agents and agencies, his team in a group chat Garcia had started, Jessica left fifteen before someone got a hold of her, and Jack’s school sending reminders about soccer and parent teacher conferences. 

But 39 are from Spencer, and his heart constricts in his chest at the worry he must have caused the man. Aches next to the scars on his chest and the blood that doesn’t belong to him in his veins. And somewhere in the recesses of his mind, it’s coupled with a torturous feeling of longing. Even subtle jealousy, because even half drugged out of his mind Hotch hadn’t missed the precise word choices Prentiss used. Garcia has been talking to Spencer -- talking. 

Garcia got to hear him.

She talked to Spencer, when he still hadn’t, because of some unspoken rule Hotch isn’t even sure when they decided upon. He still knew so little about the man, and Spencer’s voice could tell him so much with just a few words. He could fill volumes with what he would learn from just a single message --

Without much further thought, Hotch pulls up his voice mail. Listens to the automated voices and the three messages there. None are from Spencer, although his heart had beat a little harder in anticipation -- enough his heart monitor beeped audibly next to him. Embarrassing as that was, like a lovestruck teenager. He’d glared at it and centered his breathing until his heart rate slowed back down, not wanting to alert the nurses station. Two of the voicemails are from Jessica’s phone, one of her worried out of her mind, and the other of Jack telling him they are coming to see him and he hopes he feels better soon. Just listening to his son speak more strongly than his aunt had or anyone else should in his situation, telling his daddy he loves him while the sounds of a commercial airline filter through the background, makes Hotch want to smile and sob all at once.

The last voicemail is from Garcia, telling him a similar story to what Prentiss had earlier, but with a bit more detail on her end. How ‘Dr. Reid’ called her out of the blue, because there had been no time for his usual emails, and gave them the information that saved his life. He’d been working the case diligently, ever since, and was checking up on him a lot. More than a lot. ‘Let him know you’re okay, when you wake up and get this. The poor guy is worried sick, and my updates only give him so much comfort.’

Spencer had actually called Garcia, when he hasn’t physically spoken to anyone in Quantico the entire time he’s consulted for them, just to save a few precious seconds to relay what he’d found. He’d even broken their rule, probably before hand, and called Hotch -- just to make sure he was okay. Hadn’t stopped working to help, the moment he found out he wasn’t.

It’s a strange thought, that if not for Spencer -- Hotch would be dead. That Jack would be flying up here for a very different reason. 

Hotch switches over to the text messages with a lump in his throat. Not at all prepared, emotionally, but needing to know.

The 39 messages start from the night before, when they were supposed to have had their usual online chess date. They range from playful banter, teasing edged in worry, and escalate to panic as the night wears on. Anxious worry bleeding through the single sentences, building and building until that lump in his throat feels like it might block off all air soon. 

Please be okay.

God, that alone starts to set a tone -- and reveals something Hotch hadn’t expected to find. Those three words give way to his speech pathology training, and all indicate that Spencer is… very likely younger than he’d originally thought. Some of Hotch’s assumptions might be close, even the teasing ones he’d only said because he’d been sure they were wrong. The other man is obviously beyond worried about him, as well. Petrified, despite knowing the risks of his job. They had become so close the past few months, were most definitely past the flirting stage and into something so tentative and wonderful Hotch can barely believe it some days. But they had never talked about this, about the possibility that Hotch might walk into a situation one day and not walk back out of it. 

Spencer’s messages soon give way to him just… talking at Hotch. Relaying what was happening, philosophical rants meant to ease his own mind and Hotch finds himself smiling softly at the man’s constant stream of thought, lectures at genius levels that he still feels so compelled to share with Hotch. Because they are that close. They really, truly, are -- and it brightens the fluttering feeling in his chest all the more. How Spencer is trying, subliminally, to draw Hotch back to the light. Three thousand miles away.

Please come back.

Hotch hears it loud and clear, the come back to me. Even unwritten. And it makes his heart skip a beat, aching as it does.

Then…

[]9/23, 15:49[] I’ve thought of something.

[]9/23, 15:52[] I’m 29.

Hotch doesn’t understand, at first. But then it hits him.

Years.  

29 years. 

Spencer is 29 years old. Proven, further, by the following messages sent after that.

[]9/23, 15:56[] I’m a certified child prodigy, on a registry and everything. I graduated high school at just twelve years old, and had my first Ph.D. by 15. Youngest in CalTech history.

29.

Jesus Christ, no wonder he hadn’t wanted to tell Hotch his age. 29 is… far younger than he expected. 

When Spencer was born, Hotch was getting his driver’s license. 16 years difference in age…

He keeps reading, despite the numb aftermath of a bomb going off inside his head, trying to process it and also hear the younger man out.

Younger. Spencer is 16 years younger than Hotch, and he finds himself scrubbing at his face to try and wake himself up further as he reads what Spencer sent.

[]9/23, 15:57[] I turn 30 at the end of October, and I was trying to wait until then to tell you. 

[]9/23, 16:00[] I’ve noticed a prominent dynamic shift in perception, between listing my age as in my 20’s and ‘almost 30’. It’s a numerical allusion our brains can’t help. You hear 29, you think 21. It happens with decades, too, once someone is outside the familial range of 10 years. +/- either side.

[]9/23, 16:02[] An age gap doesn’t sound as bad when I’m 30. That’s why I wanted to wait, just a little while longer, but if that universal affirmation phenomenon actually works for us -- I don’t mind dealing with the consequences.

[]9/23, 16:03[] Just please come back. 

[]9/23, 16:07[] Please be okay.

[]9/23, 16:10[] I miss you.

His heart is about to be ripped to shreds. 

Hotch feels terrible, because Spencer is right. 29 sounds so young, and it keeps repeating in his head over and over. But 29 isn’t the same as 21, he isn’t some college student still stumbling around trying to figure out his life. He has five Ph.D.’s, runs three departments at one of the best universities in the country, is consulted by the FBI and Homeland Security and very obviously has a reputation he upholds to the highest regard. Hotch had guessed Spencer was 32 not so long ago, what was the big difference between that and his actual age? From what little Spencer just shared of his life story, he’s never gotten to be a kid, so who was Hotch to consider him one? What gave him the right to be floored by this, did it actually change what he thought of Spencer? How he felt about him only moments prior to reading that?

I miss you.   Come back.   Please be okay.

I’m 29.

It could be the recent flirtation with death, the anesthesia or the morphine, even the gratitude that Hotch will get to see his son again and not leave him without both his parents -- there’s so many reasons for him to take pause as he considers the messages in front of him. 

But it feels a lot like the months of talking, and the countless late nights spent together, that pile up and up in his chest. A rising pressure that reminds Hotch that he and Spencer have something, and it’s not a normal, regular situation for either of them. Something that precedent, and everything Hotch has ever been told to hold to standard, doesn’t seem to fit. He and Spencer don’t seem to fit, when looked at afar or even on paper -- but they do. They really do. It was never supposed to be something that could be this easy, or normal in any capacity.

But what about their lives ever was?

[]9/23, 18:26[] I’m so sorry I worried you.

[]9/23, 18:26[] I miss you, too.

[]9/23, 18:27[] If I stop answering you, the nurse took my phone away. I hate hospitals.

[]9/23, 18:29[] Hotch, you scared me to death.

[]9/23, 18:30[] I know, I’m sorry.

[]9/23, 18:31[] From what I heard, you saved my life.

[]9/23, 18:33[] I don’t even know how to begin thanking you for that.

[]9/23, 18:36[] Just get better.

[]9/23, 18:38[] Which means resting, don’t glare at your nurses too much. They’re there to help you.

There’s a long stretch of a pause in their correspondence, which picks up so smooth and easy it’s as if they had never stopped. Like the last few days hadn’t happened at all. But they had, they were both looking at the messages to prove that. He does take pause, maybe more than he should, and Hotch knows miles away Spencer is just as nervous. Staring at his phone.

-

Hotch isn’t wrong. Spencer let out such an exclamation of relief at Hotch’s name on his notifications he about sobbed with it. He never cries, hasn’t in years -- but his eyes sting with relief and worry and… an emotion he doesn’t want to name.

[]9/23, 18:44[] What day is your birthday?

[]9/23, 18:45[] October 28th.

[]9/23, 18:45[] Same week as mine. November 2nd.

Hotch pauses, again, considers his next response… and 3,000 miles away Spencer can barely blink as he stares at his phone with mounting dread. 

[]9/23, 18:49[] I understand why you didn’t want to tell me. It’s alright.

[]9/23, 18:51[] Am I correct in assuming you’ve never been in a relationship with this much of an age gap?

It takes Hotch a moment to even gather the courage to type that out and send it. Knows it sounds almost too formal, for them, but Hotch also knows that he and Spencer are balanced on the edge of a knife, here, and… no matter what the outcome, everything is about to change between them.

Spencer licks his lips in nervousness, reading the line over and over although he has no need to. It feels like a tipping point, and he’s still… terrified this will be his last conversation with Hotch outside of case work. Ever. 

[]9/23, 18:55[] Never. 

[]9/23, 18:57[] I haven’t had many relationships at all. My peer groups have always been older than me, and people my own age never understood me enough to be interested. So it’s just something I was used to, going without.

[]9/23, 18:59[] This has been… the closest thing to what I’ve been told is normal that I’ve ever experienced. I’ve never had the chance to have something like this with someone, or connect in this way. I gave up, for a long while there.

[]9/23, 19:01[] I’ve been in a similar situation before, on an intellectual spectrum.

[]9/23, 19:03[] I’ve never--

Hotch pauses, again, putting his thoughts in order. Weighing it all, before taking that final leap. Spencer waiting with baited breath, all the more. 

But Hotch doesn’t regret what he sends. Not one bit.

[]9/23, 19:03[] I’ve never dated anyone younger than me like this, before, so we’ll both be on a learning curve.

[]9/23, 19:03[] But we will figure it out. Together.

Spencer’s breath catches, and he can’t seem to release it again. He can’t believe what he’s reading. What Hotch has sent him. 

He said ‘dated’.

He thought they were dating. Spencer isn’t quite sure he can trust his own eyes, despite the words being there in stark black and white on his phone screen.

[]9/23, 19:06[] Dating?

Hotch smiles, because he just knows -- from that single word text -- that Spencer has sent it not in admonishment or anything negative of the sort. But in hope. Confident that he recognizes the nuance in Spencer's voice even without ever having heard it, Hotch just knows, and it makes warmth blossom anew in his chest. Sends his heart rate monitor skittering across the machine all over again.

[]9/23, 19:08[] Hate to be the one to tell you, but all of those late nights where we talked for hours instead of playing chess? Those were dates.

Spencer has his hand over his mouth, still in disbelief that he hadn’t… fucked this up beyond repair. That his age hadn’t been the deal breaker he’d feared so vehemently for months now. That everything is still as it was, age difference and life-threatening situation, aside.

They were dating. All this time.

[]9/23, 19:10[] I should have worn nicer clothes.

Hotch laughs at his phone at the same time Spencer laughs at his own, having reread what he’d sent. 

3,000 miles away, and their quiet laughter coincides perfectly. 

[]9/23, 19:11[] Our next one I’m sure I’ll be in a hospital gown, so I think you’re in the clear.

[]9/23, 19:12[] Sounds like you’re making plans, already. 

[]9/23, 19:12[] You still need rest.

[]9/23, 19:14[] Well, I have to thank you somehow. And, I saw something about poker instead of chess? I’m actually not bad at poker.

[]9/23, 19:15[] … you remember I’m from Vegas, right?

[]9/23, 19:16[] We’ll play for fake money.

[]9/23, 19:18[] No such thing.

[]9/23, 19:19[] I do play for favors, though.

[]9/23, 19:19[] Oh? 

Hotch feels a wild, youthful thing unfurl in his chest as he types away. Mischievous, almost, in a way he only gets when he and Spencer are hours deep into conversations in the middle of the night. But it’s broad daylight, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too wide. Getting lost in the thrill of it all. In the officiality of it, now, and another curtain unveiled between them.

[]9/23, 19:20[] Did you have something in mind?

Spencer has to be blushing seven shades of red, right about now, and he hides his face from his phone for a moment before he realizes how ridiculous that is -- Hotch can’t see him. He can stop messaging the man any time he wants to.

Except he doesn’t want to.

[]9/23, 19:24[] I’ll get back to you.

Hotch can’t help it as he grins at his phone. A wry, suggestive thing, but he manages to school it before a passing nurse can see him -- how his eyes are alight with possibility. With elation, just from talking to the younger man that had seemed to capture a part of him he thought wasn’t available to anyone any more, and types out one last -- slightly more flirtatious subtext to put a cap on their conversation. To indicate he’s awaiting more, always wanting a little more of Dr. Spencer Reid.

He can blame it on the morphine, later. 

[]9/23, 19:25[] Looking forward to it.

--

(tbc...)

--

Tagged List:  @spencehotchner @ssa-sarahsunshine @gothamapologist @reidology @marsjareau @dragon-snaps-fandom​ @emmyraebird @just-an-emo-rat​​​ @aaron-hotchner187 @dk18077 @more-heid-pls @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @merpancake

[remmysbounty]

vision of the past // hunter x gn!reader (ft. din & gn!reader)

yes I wrote a hunter fic featuring din djarin…. Yes that’s what my question yesterday was about…. Yes I have no concept of the Star Wars timeline Hahhaa anyway ENJOY 💛

You’ve felt eyes on you before. Knew from the way the hairs on the back of your neck bristled and how your shoulders automatically tightened that someone was watching. But these eyes, the one that had captured you since you and Din walked into the marketplace, were different.

A set of eyes that you hadn’t felt on you for a while now. And Din knew to. Knew from the shake of your head and the motion to the necklace hidden under your clothing that you knew exactly who was watching.

You wanted to turn around, see those eyes for yourself, but then the Troopers walked past and you remembered why you were even on this planet to begin with.

Din continued on ahead, the slight turn of his head letting you know he was still watching out for you, and as you went to follow, you knew you weren’t the only one.

Your hand drifted to the blaster kept close to your side, and then it flexed before retreating again. But yet the presence remained. Din stopped ahead of you, turning his head slightly before tilting to the inn that you’d be using for the job. You nodded and continued inside, almost motioning for your shadow to follow before once again catching yourself.

How times had changed.

With a sigh you entered your room, leaving the door unlocked with the hope that he’d show himself, let you see him even if it was just for one final time. You wanted to laugh at yourself, at your desperation, at your need, but instead all that seemed to come out of you was a cry. A cry for what was or a cry for what could have been- you weren’t entirely sure.

The beep of your comm was the only thing that stopped the tears from ever falling. And yet the familiar face that popped up made those tears bubble back up to the surface.

“I take it you and Mando made it to the inn,” Fennec watched you as you merely nodded before clearing your throat.

A pause grew as she seemed to wait for a response before her gaze softened, “What is it?”

You shook your head, “It’s nothing.”

Her steely gaze seemed to return, but under it you knew was the softness she kept hidden, “It’s not nothing.”

“He’s here, and if he’s here, then so is she.”

She nodded her head, yet her eyes had a faraway look in them, reminiscent almost, before returning to her piercing stare, “Does Mando know?”

“That they’re here or my past?”

Fennec shrugged, “Both. Either.”

“He knows.”

You paused trying to find your next words only to feel him just pass the doorway. The shadows coming through the small slit at the bottom were an obvious scene that clearly someone or some people were waiting, but there was something more, something that made you know it was him.

“I’ll comm you later Fennec,” and without waiting for a response you hung up.

Your body led you to the door, your hand resting on the handle waiting for your mind to give the command to open it and yet for some reason it couldn’t. You wanted to see him, to look him in the eye, to feel his presence in person but yet your mind wouldn’t let you.

And then you heard it. The soft voice telling him to be patient, to give you time. She had matured clearly, but how could you be so surprised when really so much time had passed. Your forehead lent forward, hitting the door with a soft thunk as you tried to slow your mind down, waiting for it to give you the permission that your body ached for.

You expected to hear their footsteps echo away from you, to hear them walk away just as you did all those years ago. You deserved it after all, didn’t you? But instead all you heard was the small chime of your comm with a single message from the Mandalorian in the room across from you, open the door.

And you did. You wanted to laugh at how quickly your body reacted to Din’s message, but you trusted him even when you didn’t trust yourself, so if he said to open the door, you’d do exactly that.

It all bubbled down the second your eyes met his, though. Those eyes that you used to see even in your dreams, the ones that you knew would protect you from anyone and anything, the ones that you still looked for the second you’d wake up. Your body stepped forward almost instantly, prepared to hold that face that you loved to stare at in your hands, only to see the way he tensed at your approach, and found yourself backing into the room slightly.

Then you saw the tuft of blonde hair just behind his shoulder and found yourself looking at a face that you almost didn’t recognize. You knew it was Omega of course, but gone was the child that you’d practically called your own and in her place was a grown adult.

“What are you doing here?”

Your face shot back to look at his, your eyes much like a deer caught in headlights as your mind processed his question. He repeated the question, his rather cold stare penetrating you as he waited for your answer.

“I’m doing a job.”

“Why here?”

“Because this is where the job sent me.”

“Who’s the job for?”

“A friend.”

Each question felt like a dagger to your gut, but you didn’t feel any pain, only growing anger. Anger at the fact that he clearly didn’t trust you anymore, deemed it important to interrogate you.

“What is it?”

“Getting a package.”

“Who's the Mandalorian?”

You exploded, “Why do you care?”

Only for him to respond in kind, “Why don’t you?”

Your chest heaved as you tried to calm yourself, your eyes actively trying to avoid looking at him even though all he did was continue to look at you.

You swallowed down all your words, waited for the anger to slip away before finally answering, “We work together. That’s it.”

Your hands clutched at the sides of the doorway, hoping it would hide the trembling running through your body. You thought you would be prepared for seeing him again, but turns out all it did was dredge up everything that you’d kept locked away since you’d walked out the door and closed it behind you.

You felt his gaze on you soften, almost as if he knew how much was brewing inside you, waiting to finally be released. And yet his next question stopped you in your tracks, “Would you like some help on the job?”

Before you could even gape at him, another voice provided you with the answer you had dreamed of saying, “We’ll take it.”

There Mando stood, leaning against the doorway as if it was the most relaxing thing in the world. And instead of gaping at Hunter for posing the question, you gaped at Mando for giving the response.

Of course you wanted the chance to even be in Hunter’s presence, but…. Din knew what was running through your mind, and yet with a simple shrug and a nod to leave he seemed to soothe your worries.

If only you’d considered how similar the two men were.

…

You weren’t sure whether to laugh or bash their heads together, and one look in Omega’s direction let you know you weren’t the only one.

Of course this job wasn’t as simple as Fennec made it out to be. And now here the four of you were, leaving the city to track the package. Only with Hunter’s abilities and Din’s helmet, what was meant to be a simple tracking expedition turned into a competition between the two.

Each time one was tracking, the other was staring and when no tracking was needed they’d be glaring full on daggers.

Your fifth sigh since seeing their stares finally made the two of them stop walking. Din merely tilted his head at you, while Hunter turned to face you, “What?”

“Just,” you sighed again, “can you two stop with this whole thing?” You waved your hand in a circle in the direction of the two of them.

Neither of them bothered to stop their staring as Hunter said, “Let’s stop for tonight.”

Soon you found your group accompanied by the warmth of the fire in front of you and the sight of the stars above you. The plan for the next day had already been hatched out and yet, even after Din had wrapped your blanket around your shoulders, you didn’t find yourself wanting to sleep.

Instead you sat next to the fire, your eyes watching the flame and your fingers playing with the chain around your neck as you let your mind wander. And wander it did. To see Hunter after all this time, to his beauty even as he got older, to what it would have been like if you stayed, to the dreams the two of you used to talk about when you laid under these same stars.

You hadn’t even realized the tears that started to drift down your face until you felt an extra source of warmth settle down next to you. Without turning your head, you knew it was Hunter- he always did run warm, even more warm than the other clones.

Yet even with the chance right next to you, you couldn’t turn your head. Not after remembering the way he’d tensed at being close to you. And then his fingers started to make their way into your line of sight until his hand rested on your thigh. It didn’t squeeze, didn’t prod, just rested on top, finally granting you the physical connection your body ached for since sensing him outside your door.

His eyes seemed to burn the fingers that played with the chain, yet you didn’t feel his cold stare, instead all you felt was his pain, “I didn’t realize you still had it.”

You nodded softly before pulling off the chain, letting the ring rest on your palm, “I couldn’t let go of it, no matter how hard I tried.”

His hand remained unmoving, even as you felt his focus shift to the ring, “Why?”

“It reminds me of…” you started to stumble, “of why I- of.”

His voice was soft, much like the blanket wrapped around your body, “Of why you left us?”

You nodded your head, before finally letting yourself turn your face to look at him, “Of why I sacrificed my future with you.”

His eyes shifted up, meeting yours. You saw the way his Adam’s Apple moved up and down before he opened his mouth, “Why… why did you?”

“I was becoming too well-known in the field,” your eyes became distant as you thought back to the moment you knew that your dreams became shattered, “Another bounty hunter and I were fighting for the bounty when he mentioned you and Omega, how people knew that you were the keeper of my heart… my weakness. They said your names,” your voice started to crack as the memory played out in your mind, “the location of our place, the name of Cid’s place…”

You let out a shaky breath as Hunter’s fingers started to intertwine themselves with yours, “No matter what, I had to protect you… but I couldn’t just leave, that would be too obvious. I had to- I had to make them think that the two of you were no longer…” your voice drifted off.

“Cyare?” You felt the way his body inched closer to yours and how yours leaned further into his touch in response, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You both knew why. And yet he waited, rather patiently, for your answer.

Your hand squeezed his slowly, almost as if to remind yourself that his presence next to you, wasn’t one of your dreams, “I had a reputation for never involving any of you in my jobs and if you knew, well, it would just increase the risk of you getting hurt,” you paused, “My safety stopped mattering to me a long time ago, at least not in the way that’s yours and Omega did.”

“So,” his voice remained soft even though you knew he was becoming angry at everyone who’d ever threatened you, “that’s why you started to distance yourself.”

You nodded, “The only way I would know for a fact that the two of you wouldn’t be targeted was if neither of you knew anything and if I truly made everyone believe that we’d broken up.”

“The fight?”

When you’d walked out. You could still feel the coldness of the door to Cid’s place as you closed it behind you. The words that you’d screamed at him, in view of every patron, still ringing in your ear. They were still etched in your mind, each hateful lie you threw his way, and each little crack of your heart that came in response.

You nodded again, “Word had to spread.”

His warmth seemed to wrap around you like an extra layer on top of the blanket, and then you felt his other hand squeeze your shoulder. He’d actually wrapped his arm around your back, pulling you closer into him.

“I never believed anything I said to you, especially that night. I wish I could take it back, all of it,” you paused as you rested your head on Hunter’s chest, right where his heart was, “I’m sorry.”

His lips pressed softly against your forehead as he took in your scent, “I forgive you. I would have forgiven you that day if I knew why.”

For a second you were transported to the past, when you still traveled with the bad batch on occasion and you were all still young. And then you felt his chest shake as he took a breath in.

“Did you ever- ever stop…”

You shook your head softly, trying not to bother his lips that still remained pressed to your forehead, “I think I love you even more than when I did all those years ago.”

You took your own shaky breath in, “What about you?”

“I never stopped.”

…

You hadn’t even realized that you finally found sleep until you felt the warmth of the sun on your skin on top of the warmth of Hunter’s body still wrapped up in yours. Even though the climate of the planet you were on made the sun harsh and bitter, you still couldn’t help but admire how it seemed to only highlight Hunter’s beauty.

Your fingers craved to run through his salt and pepper hair, and trace every bit of his face. But then he stirred, still not fully awake and you found yourself slowly extracting yourself from his arms, leaving the ring that had somehow found itself within his grasp.

The sun seemed to burn your back, yet as you looked at his sleeping body below you, you realized it blanketed him in a golden light.

Before letting yourself fall deeper into your dreams of waking up like that every day, you walked over to where Din sat, grabbing the ration bar he handed to you and your gear without a single question passed in between.

Even as you ate, your eyes remained locked on Hunter, not stopping when he woke up and got settled next to Omega.

You could feel Din’s eyes on you, “You don’t have to stay with me, you know?”

Your eyes drifted to meet his, even if you couldn’t see them, “Are you sure?”

If it wasn’t for your constant stare you were sure you would have missed the small nod he gave you in response, “Besides, I have to return.”

You nodded again, a soft smile growing on your face as you turned your head again to meet Hunter’s eyes, “I’ll always be there for you.”

“I know. You are always welcome in Mandalore.”

A comforting pause grew between the two of you and as Din stood up, he looked down at you, “You should tell him.”

You remained seated, watching as Hunter interacted with Omega, one of his hands still wrapped in a tight fist. And then you found him getting closer to you.

He settled down next to you, your body automatically turning so that you could face him. At first you were surprised at how quickly your body wanted to mold with his, but then you realized your body could never forget. The smile on your face continued to grow, especially when you found Hunter smiling in return.

His free hand reached out and grabbed your wrist, softly pulling it towards him before opening up your hands and placing the ring in your palm, “I think you left this behind.”

You nodded, cherishing the physical contact you had with Hunter. Unintentionally, your body continued to reach forward until there was no space between the two of you.

A gentle wind started to grow as the sun continued to rise and although it wasn’t needed, you felt Hunter lean in to where your ear was, “Do you have any plans once this job is done?”

“Well,” you started slowly, “I was hoping, if you’re okay with it, that is, of… maybe…” you felt your face fill with the warmth of your embarrassment to your loss of words. And yet Hunter waited patiently.

You cleared your throat, “I want to be with you again, if you’ll have me.”

You’d closed your eyes at some point as you spoke and for a second you regretted it, not being able to see Hunter’s reaction. Then you felt his slow movements, his hands trailing up your arms until they met your cheeks where they rested, the hot air from his breath disappearing from next to your ear and reappearing in front of your lips. And then his forehead softly rested against yours.

Your breaths started to meld together as you took in Hunter’s response. One of your hands tightened around the ring still sitting in your palm while the other traveled up Hunter’s chest before becoming entangled in his hair, not really pressing him closer to you but also not letting him pull away.

You hadn’t even realized that you’d started to speak, “Don’t let me go, please, don’t ever let me go.”

A prayer to him or to yourself- you weren’t entirely sure- but a prayer nonetheless.

Only for you to receive one in response, “I won’t, I’m never letting you go, not again.”

Even as you continued on for the job, you knew that Hunter would remain by your side and as you pulled the chain back over your head you realized, it didn’t feel as heavy as it did all those years ago.

———

tags: @bubblegum28universe @rose-the-bot @sergeant-hunter

Tin Man:  @captn-andor @thewayofthemandalorian   @magpie-to-the-morning  @magicrowiswritingstuff  @booksmusicteaandanimals  @littlemisspascal @letoatreiides  @dincrypt  @ohwaitimthewriter  @staarshines @dindjarindiaries  @dindja  @dindjarinsghost  @reluctant-mandalore  @pascalpanic @princessxkenobi @smoldjarin @spideysimpossiblegirl

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Tokyo Tower (Part 5) Butterfly Effect

Please enjoy this! :D I’ve changed a lot about this scene to cut out the irrelevant and pointless parts and keep it focused on the MC and the characters we want to see! @rurifangirl by request

“You think I would use the perfect evolutionary medicine on my own daughter and use her to create the perfect dragon race?"

"The so-called perfect evolution is the ultimate evolution that can maintain divine wisdom. Even if she evolves into a dragon, she is still your daughter. With her obedience to you, she can destroy the world for you, which is the reason you have been raising her so far."

“And if you get God's fetal blood, you'll use it on yourself?"

"It seems that only using it on myself is the safest way. I wanted to try it on Chime as well, but that boy is too hard to control, a viper's heart hidden under a feminine appearance!"

You speak the words but your playful manner has gone and been replaced with a numb realization that so long as Herzog was alive, you’d never find peace. You had a sisterhood and love with Renata but she was shot in front of you. You had just found love again before Herzog had Chance assassinated. And now that you had finally taken solace in a man like Ruri Kazama and bonded as a sister again with Erii, here he was threatening them both.

It would never end. Next would be Caesar, Chu Zihang, Lu Mingfei and then, once he was finished with you, you would be next. The man was a bottomless pit. He had no attachments, no empathy. Nor could he have them even if he wanted to. He’s whole life’s view was eat-or-be-eaten. There was no such thing as balance, no such thing as co-existence.

What he liked to call evolution was nothing but eternal slaughter, breathtaking in its scope. It was hard to believe someone like him could exist. You were horrified and amazed. While you have made decisions to kill others before, for the first time, you’re confronted with someone who had to die in the most absolute of terms.

You speak up again after listening for a bit. “Herzog and Erii were both exposed to dragon blood and started to turn into dragons, but were unable to complete the process. He says they were semi-evolved. Half-evolved. Bondarev has the raw materials Herzog needs, and Herzog has the methods and research to create the evolution medicine. They have agreed to work together.”

You didn’t believe they would really work together. At the first opportunity they would fight to the death. There was very little difference between these two men and the deadpool sphinxes in the mural hall of Genji Heavy Industries. Cannibals.

 "Damn it! How did the Tortoise get here?" Caesar suddenly snarled.

 "Brother!"

Caesar and Ruri Kazama spoke almost simultaneously, both in horror, but the messages conveyed in their tones of voice were completely different. Ruri’s uncontrolled dismay showed that Chisei was still special to him as his brother. Caesar was more concerned about the success of the mission.

“We haven’t had time to blockade Tokyo Tower yet! Tachibana Masamune might still escape!” Caesar shouted.

"Quick! Seal the elevator and the iron ladder! Brother may not have a chance to win against the King General! He will underestimate him!" Ruri Kazama said urgently.

While Caesar was concerned about Tachibana escaping, Ruri Kazama wanted to keep Chisei out of the clutches of Herzog.

"Calling Ruri! Calling Ruri! Change of plan! We're going up the tower now to intercept the King General, you stand by for a kill!" Caesar called loudly.

There was only rustling background noise in your headset. Ruri Kazama's voice disappeared. Caesar switched between different channels, and there was no answer from Ruri Kazama in each channel.

Ruri Kazama might have turned off the communication device or discarded it, in any case, he was detached from the communication network.

“I knew we couldn’t count on that guy!” Caesar yelled in annoyance.

Just like that, the entire operation was in disarray. You didn’t know what happened to him. Maybe an assassin had found him. Maybe Ruri was already dead! “Wait! He said we should stop Chisei!”

Caesar’s voice brooked no arguments. “Ruri Kazama withdrew from the mission. It’s up to us, the commissioners of the Cassel Academy, to carry out the mission of the Secret Party. Since both the King General and Tachibana Masamune have personally admitted to wanting to resurrect the White King, then they have already committed the felony of being enemies of the entire human race and have to be wiped out right now! MC! Lu Mingfei! Prepare your rifles!”

You hesitate. Ruri Kazama specifically told you that not even Chisei Gen was certain to be able to kill the King General. While Caesar was strong and clever and resourceful, he couldn’t rival Chisei's pure brute force. You look down at your sniper rifle in dismay. You heard the King General say that he was a semi-evolved dragon. This rifle was absolutely useless! You throw it down and turn and run.

Mingfei turned his head. “MC! What are you doing!”

The fastest way down the building was the stairwell and you leap down flights at a time. You feel like you were too slow no matter how fast you run! You burst out of the ground floor exit door and streak across the Tokyo Tower’s main plaza. You don’t see Chisei anywhere but you urge yourself to go faster! Lighting flashes and illuminates the black veins on your wrist and black veins peeking out from the collar of your shirt. They pulse like tentacles. You’re running unnaturally fast, fast like a demon, like a werewolf, pushed by the superhuman force of your dragon blood. You didn't need to use blood rage this time. Your condition really was deteriorating, bit by bit. Now Blood Rage was only a thought away.

You reach the stairs faster than any sprinter and start to climb up as fast as you can!

Then you hear footsteps behind you. You whirl to confront who was following.

In the dark and the wind and the rain, you were once again facing Chisei Gen.

Chisei Gen came stepping through the storm, his windbreaker flying like a battle flag in the gale. He was looking up high into the sky, his pupils flowing with the color of molten iron. There is no need for him to sneak. He is an emperor, the absolute emperor. Any opposition he faced he would simply crush with absolute violence.

So you shrink and make yourself as small as possible. “I can’t fight you. I can only tell you that you’re making a mistake! Don’t go up there!”

“What are you doing here?” The sword Onimaru glittered like pure ice in the rain.

“We received intelligence on this meeting from your brother. Caesar and Chu Zihang are also on the way to kill Herz… I mean, the King General and Tachibana for crimes against the Secret party. The King General is a half dragon. Chime didn’t believe you could defeat him and wanted us to stop you from going up.”

At the mention of the name ‘Chime’, Chisei’s eyes burned bright in the dark and the pupils narrowed to needles! He moved like the wind, crushing you against the iron stairs. The metal risers slam into your back leaving deep bruises. Pain explodes in your legs and you realize that he’s broken them. You scream and seize his hair, the only way you feel you can detain him. He’s amber reptilian eyes burn into yours. He snarls low. “I’ll interrogate you later.”

“Fine.” You sob, shaking, pale, and sweaty with pain. You release him. “Go die. Chime is the only one who cares about you anyway.”

Chisei’s eyes widen and then suddenly distance and dim and, for a moment, they revert back to their dark natural color. He looked so much like his brother in this state -- soft, sad, lonely. Those eyes were full of pain and regret. The rain ran in rivers down his face like tears. So little got to him, but those words did.

He straightened up over you and rushed off, flying up the stairs like an eagle, leaving you on the stairs in a curtain of rain. Your legs hurt so bad you want to swoon and every time you look down the world spins and you want to throw up.

“So… how’s it going?”

“How did I know you were going to show up?”

Z sits on the stairs and sighs deeply, holding an umbrella over your head. “Because I’m always by your side. Unlike some people.” He moves his hand to rest it on your hair and then retracts it. “I really do support you. You’re important. And I would rather things have gone my way with our relationship. But, like I said, I can’t make you do something like that. Like the genie in Aladdin. I can’t make you love me.” He chuckled. “But… like the genie, I can fix your legs. And I’ll do that.”

“Why… would you help me? I’m so confused.” You lift your head from the cold metal step. He was still in his fashionable suit and leather shoes.

“I didn’t tell you much when I was courting you, you think I’m going to tell you things now?” He laughed. “You’re doing amazing things. At least, I think you are. Hard to tell.” He turned to look at you with his golden eyes, then his eyes lift up to the stairs where Chisei disappeared. “It’s like the butterfly effect. Tiny little changes that don’t seem to matter have a cumulative effect. Now I’m curious. Hm…” He laughed, musing to himself. “Anyway. Your ride will take a few minutes to get here. In the meantime, I have to let you stay wounded so you don’t wander off and die prematurely. When it’s time to go. You’ll know.” Z stood up and walked away, stepping off the staircase and walking through the rain with nothing but open air beneath him until he vanished out of sight.

You lay on the steps, taking one breath at a time. It was hard not to moan but surely no one heard you over the torrential rain. Your mind drifted to Caesar Gattuso who would probably kill you even if you survived this. Or at least fiercely scold you. He would ask you what you were thinking, running off and confronting a furious Chisei Gen alone. You should have known he’d crumple you like paper. Caesar’s supposed to be the only one with the harebrained ideas.

You wondered what you were thinking. And you recall Ruri Kazama’s desperate words.

Brother!

It wasn’t just any exclamation. Chime was terrified of losing Chisei. His twin brother.

You hear a sudden loud bang, like there was a car collision right above you. As you look, a dark shape looms towards you. You feel a sudden jolt of fear! Metal bits and shredded dark pieces of cloth are raining all around your head and you hear the rattle of machine gun fire from the stairs!

“Ouch! … oh… Ow! Ow!”

A man-shaped thing was moaning while dangling by a rope between the shadowy metal struts of Tokyo tower. You recognized the voice. “Fingel?”

He sighed, whimpering. He was spinning while holding on to a thick rope. “Oh hey girly. Fancy meeting you here.”

“What happened?”

“Uh… the King had an escape plan. A big ol’ metal blimp! Bigger than mine! Haha!” He flinched. “Ow.”

You push yourself upright and suddenly realize that your pain is gone! You look down at your legs. 

They were fine.

At that moment, far more ferocious weapons than assault pistols boomed on the far roof of the building. It was Mingfei!

“The King’s escaping?” You grip the hand rail and pull yourself up. Your legs are wobbly, like you’d been sitting for hours, but they didn’t hurt.

“Yeah… I’m… I’m done here.” Fingel wearily groaned. “I want ramen… and more of that miso soup. I think I’m going to get out of the way. Good luck!” Fingel suddenly started sliding down the rope.

“Hey get back here! I don’t… I don’t have any weapons!” You lean against the hand rail to look down but he is already gone. You grumble to yourself. “Dog with no morality.”

“You can always join meeeee….” Fingel shouted from below.

He was right. You could go home right now. But Ruri was still out there. He might need your help. And… your legs were fine. You sigh deeply.

Chisei was an idiot. He didn’t listen. He never listened. He had a set path, a script to follow and he was following it without delay.

But Chime loved him. 

You push away from the railing and turn away from Fingel and dash up the stairs. You climb on healed legs until you reach the top of the stairs. The outer observation deck was completely covered in broken glass. Every window had been blown out. Chisei Gen was standing on the observation deck with submachine guns but he didn’t even notice you. He was staring into the distance and you follow his gaze.

The King General’s blimp was still aloft, but it was disabled. The man was hanging on by a ladder and buffeted like a limp doll in the wind. Immediately, something like a light black hawk took off from the rooftop of the building next to him, the gusty wind pounding its wings, carrying it to the sky. When the lift was exhausted and this strange bird reached the apex of it’s climb, it turned violently and swooped down like thunder and lightning.

it was a black glider, and under the glider hung a dressed-up Ruri Kazama!

 He was wearing a dazzling kimono, his robe and sleeves danced in the wind and rain. He carried his cherry red sword in his hand. Even without makeup, his plain white face was as beautiful as a supreme heavenly maiden, but with a lion-like smile.

He came in full costume to kill!

The blimp’s rudder was broken. It couldn't dodge and everyone could only watch Ruri Kazama's performance. The black wings hid the General from everyone’s eyes and no one knew his last expression. Whether he changed that mask-like smile.

 Ruri Kazama brushed past the hanging ladder and cut off the King General's head with a single slash.

That was not the end of it. With his gliding wings, he expertly whirled around the King's corpse in a very tight circle, and the second slash cut the king in half at the waist. The third cut severed the hanging ladder. The King's body fell in pieces in the pouring rain, and Ruri Kazama waved his sword in the air to remove the blood on it, and his glider carried him into the buildings ahead.

This was the real trap with no way out, where the strongest bloodline ability cannot be brought to bear. Ruri Kazama understood that Herzog would never entrap himself in the tower. He already guessed that he would have an airship prepared to escape, but, because Ruri did not trust anyone, he didn’t say anything to anyone.

Not even you.

The air was filled with his laughter after he had won, like the laughter of an actor on stage, so exaggeratedly contrived, but hollow and sad. He hated Herzog so much. Your mind fills with questions. Why did he hate him so much? How many years did he prepare to kill this man?

“Chime…” Chisei’s eyes were full of questions and confusion too.

He finally noticed your presence and stiffened, hand on his sword. But you don’t move. “Do you believe me now?” You ask.

Chisei’s hand released. “How.”

“Oh this?” You shake one leg at him. “The ghost of my dead boyfriend came and healed me.”

Chisei’s gaze unfocused and you realized that you meant Z but Chisei was thinking of Chance. “I won’t ask your forgiveness.” He said.

“Good.” You bark a laugh. “I guess that means you’re not a total idiot.” You cross your arms over your chest and smirk.

Chisei sighs, but he smiles a bit. “Even in a dire situation as this, you make me laugh.”

“I have a feel for a dragon’s sense of humor. If the dragon is laughing, it cannot eat you.” You tilt your head slightly.

“And why are you here?” Chisei looked past you.

Moving like a shadow and completely unnoticed by you, Sakura Yabuki stepped forward. She had been at your back, ready to kill you if needed. You feel a sudden chill, but the danger was already over before you noticed it.

"As a result of a discussion with Crow. It was expected that you would come to the special observation deck, so I decided to send men to protect you." Sakura's answer was curt, "I was the only one suitable for the job, so I came."

Lithely muscled, tall, in a black bodysuit and face half covered, Sakura Yabuki was made to live in the shadows. You’d only seen her a few times on your arrival, but hadn’t seen her again since. It was probably a good thing. She didn’t seem to be the type who let you see her at all, unless she was the last thing you ever saw.

What stands out to you though was that subtle humor. Your eyebrows raise. She was funny!

You hear a soft grunt. Bondarev was holding his chest. He smiled that winning smile up at you. “MC. Long time no see!”

Anger rose from the soles of your feet to the top of your head and you stare down at him, fiercely judging. “What’s done is done. I’m not into revenge.”

“Yes… I will… face the judgement of God.” Bondarev hung his head slightly.  “Chisei… let this girl go. She’s caught up in it. She’s innocent.”

“Cut the crap, Bondarev.” You say in sharp blistering Russian. He looks up at you again, eyes wide. “You’re not going to fool me. The minute I turn around, you’ll have me killed. This will end in blood because you don’t know how to live any other way.”

For a moment, Bondarev’s blue eyes sparkled. His Russian was smooth and unbothered by his injuries. “You’ve… learned Dr. Herzog’s lessons very well.”

Your lips quirk up in a smile. 

Chisei’s eyes bounce from your face to his. “You … know each other?”

“Long story.” You back away from all of them, hands raised. “Do what you need to. I won’t interfere.”

"We must hurry up and get someone to clean up the scene," Bondarev said.  "...and call a doctor for me."

"You've been taking some kind of drugs, haven't you?" Chisei Gen asked.

In the low light, you noticed an abnormal sheen on his body. It was the play of the light on small ivory scales.

"It's worse than that, it's preserved fetal blood, but with serum therapy, it's no problem to live for another few years or even a decade." Tachibana smiled, "Maybe enough to live to attend your wedding."

You glance at him and he meets your eye. Why would he mention that in front of you? Speaking in English, a language you would understand... Did he think you didn’t know about the serum treatment? He knows you’re dying and is dangling that in front of you. But you’re covered. Caesar would make sure to knock him off his throne and give you the leadership of Japan and the serum treatment without the constant threat of death. You respond to his look with a derisive snort and an unpleasant grin. You drawl in Russian. “No, thanks.”

The rain was still falling. The wind was sweeping across the special observation deck and carried a faint cry to your ears.

‘Tachibana’ froze for a few seconds and a great fright came into his eyes. He retreated step by step towards the interior. Chisei and Sakura also retreated with him. The majestic wind and rain seems to hide something more terrifying than even the King General.

Surprised, you turn to look for yourself.

A black shadow rose slowly from below the observation deck. The heavy rain hit its greenish-gray scales, breaking into a shining white mist. It unfolded several meters wide wings gently waving them in a graceful rhythm. A long snaky fish tail slowly stretches below its body.

Its long, dark hair is disheveled in the wind and rain, hiding its pretty female face. The corners of its mouth moved slightly, as if to laugh out loud, but what came out was a baby-like cry, and its mouth was full of thorny sharp teeth.

Flying Deadpool.

Not one but a group. They rose up from all directions, as if they were flying snakes in ancient frescoes, a sight that in the legends of all ancient civilizations heralded cataclysm.

[aion-rsa]

Better Call Saul Confronts Its Legacy in Season 6

https://ift.tt/3gM97md

As Better Call Saul heads into its sixth and final season, the AMC hit has found a way to carve out its own path beyond the enormous shadow of its big brother, Breaking Bad. The series combines incredible cinematography, outstanding acting, and intelligent storytelling in a peerless fashion. 

As we continue to anticipate the show’s final episodes, we were lucky enough to get the chance to talk with executive producer Thomas Schnauz about how much the drama has already accomplished, how instrumental actors like Rhea Seehorn and Tony Dalton have been to the program’s success, and what the show’s lasting legacy will hopefully be. 

Den of Geek: Do you have any inklings of information on whether AMC is going to split the sixth season into two parts? This has been a rumor for quite some time and I know Peter Gould said he had hoped it would be aired as a single entity. 

Thomas Schnauz: I don’t know. Because of the COVID delays, and then Bob’s heart attack and recovery, I have zero idea when or how the episodes will be aired. Everything with production is moving forward, steady but slow. We’re filming scenes that don’t involve Bob right now. I just finished editing my director’s cut of episode 607, and I addressed some notes on my script for 611. I’m still waiting to hear the dates of when I’ll prep and direct 611.

Heading into the final season, Better Call Saul is different from a lot of other shows in that we already know what Jimmy McGill’s fate is going to be. What we don’t know is what Gene Takovic’s closure represents. How much more prevalent will those scenes be in the sixth season?

We will of course address Gene’s future, but I’m not at liberty to say how much or how little will be in the show. We talked about it a ton when we were breaking the episodes, and all we writers can do is go with our gut about how much Gene we see. Everyone chimed in with thoughts, and Peter Gould had the ultimate choice, and I think he picked an amount that we’re all happy with.

The fifth season of the show got a lot more action-oriented than past installments as Jimmy and Kim themselves go a little too close to the cartel. Can we expect the violence to be ramped up even more in the final season? How do you balance keeping the same tone the show has always had while realizing that things change as you get close to the finish line?

We don’t really pay attention to matching the tone or the amount of violence that came before in previous seasons. We just do what’s right for the current story. The show has always been violent in my eyes, since season 1, with Tuco and the skate twins, Nacho’s threats to Jimmy, Mike in Philly… and also emotionally violent, with Chuck betraying his brother. So there will be more physical and emotional violence in season 6, but I can’t swear that it’s any more than we had before. We’re coming to the end, so whatever happens will probably hit harder.

Many people have come to view Lalo Salamanca (Tony Dalton) as the best antagonist in the entire Breaking Bad/Better Call Saul universe. Will his role be even larger in the final season than before and do you and the other writers regret not bringing the character into the fold earlier in the series? 

Season 5 felt really special to me. I just felt like we were clicking on all cylinders, and Tony Dalton was a big part of that. We certainly talked about bringing in the character Lalo as far back as season 1, but now with 20/20 hindsight it feels he came in at the perfect time. I can’t say if Lalo’s role will be bigger or smaller in season 6, but he was certainly pissed off and a man on a mission in the season 5 finale.

Last season you wrote one of the most acclaimed episodes in the series, “Bad Choice Road”. How much of the iconic scene with Lalo interrogating Jimmy and Kim at home came from your own imagination and how much of it was a group effort from the whole team? 

We writers all work together on all of the episodes, and it’s just too hard to remember who came up with what beat/line/idea. On my Twitter page (@tomschnauz) I post the boards that we work on (index cards with all the story beats), which is a good indication of what we came up with in the room. I want to say that I did pitch the Lalo interrogation technique of having your prisoner repeat the same story over and over until there’s a discrepancy, but I can’t swear to it. When it comes time to write, we use the cards to help guide us, so the “writer” of the episode puts his/her spin onto it, but even after that, a writer will sit with Peter and often another writer to either streamline or, sometimes, bulk up a scene if it’s feeling thin.

Did anybody realize what an asset Kim Wexler was going to be to Better Call Saul when the show first started? Was it always the intent to make her a de-facto lead, or did Rhea Seehorn impress so much that it just came about naturally as the plot and the themes kept progressing and calling for exploration of her character?

We had zero idea what Kim’s role would be in the series. In fact, I think the writers were still debating into season 2 if Kim and Jimmy had an intimate relationship prior to us meeting her in season 1, or were they just friends? I wrote the line about the “sex robot voice” in episode 3, so I was in the camp of: “they started something but career took over and it didn’t quite go anywhere.” We knew Rhea was good when we saw her audition tape, but then seeing her in the role as we were filming season 1 — all the nuance, the humor, the gleam in her eyes — we knew we had a special combination with her and Bob. 

Read more

TV

Better Call Saul: Rhea Seehorn Shares Her Favorite Kim Theory in Exclusive New Clip

By Alec Bojalad

TV

Better Call Saul Season 5 Reveals Kim Wexler’s Heart of Darkness

By Alec Bojalad

These actors share that indescribable thing when you watch them — when the characters struggle against a system stacked against them, you root for them, but then… when they start “breaking bad” and doing things they shouldn’t, you still root for them!  Maybe you’re not rooting for them to succeed in the horrible thing they’re doing, but you’re still with them and shouting, “No, turn back!  Don’t get caught!”  So, to answer the question, the series is what it is and Kim is who she is because Rhea worked so hard and brought so much to the character. It definitely helped the writers make choices about where the plot should go.

What do you want Better Call Saul to be remembered for What element should be considered its lasting legacy? Do you think this has been a show that has the ability for people to continue to discover for many years to come?

When we started this show, I thought we’d have very limited viewership — a small percentage of the people who watched Breaking Bad. I would have been thrilled with 50% of that audience. But I’ve been delighted to meet and hear from fans who have never seen the original show. I’m hoping people will go back and rewatch both Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul because of the way we wrote them: we didn’t go in with an overall plan, and when we finished writing one episode, we weren’t exactly sure what was going to happen next. 

So the writing was a struggle and we put ourselves into tight corners, and when searching for an answer for these problems we created, we were often surprised, and I hope that comes through in the viewing. The plot is not predictable, and the answers are hard to get to, so I hope both series stand up to repeated viewing.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Better Call Saul season 6 is expected to premiere in 2022. Check back with Den of Geek tomorrow for more BCS tidbits from Thomas Schnauz. 

The post Better Call Saul Confronts Its Legacy in Season 6 appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[saiilorstars]

Dare To Forget Me

Ch. 26: Playing the Game

(Previous chapters)

Fandom: Law & Order SVU

Pairing:  Rafael Barba x OFC

Warnings: Due to the nature of the series’ plots, I do have to rate this as ‘mature’ for constant mentions of rape.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel​ [If you’d like to be added to this specific OC’s stories/edits, send me a message!]

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ` 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

Chapter Summary: Declan Murphy has taken over at SVU and not a lot of detectives seem to like him. It leads to a night of drinking and flirting...

Montserrat walked into the SVU bullpen with half her things in her hand. She was digging through her purse, searching for her chapstick. She seemed out of it, which was why when she heard all the significant noises from the bullpen she quickly looked up and found quite a busy scene in front of her.

Desks had been rearranged so that there was only one row where the familiar detectives were huddled at. To the left was a young UC pretending to be a 14 year old for, what Monsterrat imagined, were live cameras.

"Welcome back," she mumbled to herself as she dropped everything from her hands into her purse. At Olivia's request, and partially her own idea, Montserrat had taken a week off from SVU. It'd done her some good to be away from work and just everything in general. After things with Jonah...a break was needed. Montserrat felt rejuvenated and ready to go back to her world.

She just had no idea what she walked into.

"Ah, redhead, you must be Detective Novak," a man - who hadn't been sitting like the rest of the detectives - said as soon as he spotted Montserrat. He had shaggy brown hair with obvious signs of gray streaks.

Montserrat's dark eyes were wide from utter confusion. "Aha…" was all that came out of her mouth as the man shook her hands.

"Declan Murphy, acting commander of SVU" the man introduced himself then swiftly turned back to the scene like Montserrat had never even come in.

"...how long was I gone?" she said louder than she had wanted to. Her eyes immediately began to search for Olivia. When she didn't find her quick, Montserrat had a brief panic attack thinking Olivia had quit or something. "What the hell is going on here!?"

"Welcome back, Novak," Rafael came to stand beside her, holding a cup of coffee in his hand.

"I am so confused," she passed a hand through her hair. "Why do we have a new commanding officer? And where's Liv?"

"You didn't hear, did you?" Rafael asked after taking a moment to study her blissful expression. He almost didn't want to tell her what she missed out on.

"Hear what?"

"William Lewis escaped from prison. There was a whole manhunt for him," and yet as Rafael explained this, he could easily tell this was the first time Montserrat was hearing any of it, "He took Liv and held her hostage."

"Oh my God," she blinked. "I didn't - I shouldn't have left."

"You had nothing to do with it. Liv is...better, but 1PP thought it was a good idea to put Murphy in charge for a while."

"And yet you don't look like you think it was a good idea," Montserrat said soon as she caught him giving Murphy a glance.

"What makes you say that?"

"You're doing that thing where you crinkle one side of your nose."

Rafael blinked at her when he saw her pointing at him, specifically his nose. His own hand moved up just slightly until he caught himself. "What thing!?" he demanded.

"That thing you're doing right now! You always do that when you're annoyed."

Rafael dropped his hand on his side. "Welcome back, detective," he muttered and turned towards the others. "Liv's getting coffee, by the way."

Montserrat nodded. "Thanks." She hurried to leave things at her desk and find Olivia. She could not believe she missed so much. "Olivia! Oh my God! I am so sorry for being away!" she burst into a fit of rambles when she ran into the break room.

Olivia seemed to have been expecting that sort of thing from the detective because all she did was smile and nod until Montserrat ran out of breath. "You're good, Novak. You were on a much needed vacation-"

"-but you were held hostage!"

"I'm good," Olivia reassured while languidly mixing in the sugar into her coffee. "And there were no charges filed against me anyways."

"Charges?" Montserrat gaped. "What charges!?"

"Never mind."

"Wait, what hap-"

"-c'mon," Olivia brought the woman out of the break room. "Did you meet Murphy yet?"

"Sort of. Seems kind of curt…"

"He's new-ish, but he's the one who helped Amanda out."

"Oh, he's that Murphy!" Montserrat made that connection fast. "Well, he can't be that bad, then." All Olivia did was hum in return. "So what exactly is going on over there?"

Olivia followed Montserrat's gaze and nodded. "Undercover string for any online pedophiles."

"Oh. Welcome home, I guess," Montserrat concluded. Secretly, she wasn't upset. Being away helped finalize where she was in her life. Plus, putting some distance might have been a good idea for...other reasons.

Their operation, while successful, only left SVU with one perp in their district. And that perp wasn't exactly what SVU had been looking for when they thought of worldwide operation.

Gordon Montlieff wasn't going to lead to a huge discovery. That much they got from 5 minutes of observing his interrogation with Fin and Amanda.

"Why are we talking to this guy?" Montserrat tore her gaze away from the interrogation and gave Murphy side-glance. It was getting tedious watching the interrogation get nowhere. Rafael and Nick seemed to share the sentiment by their similar irritated looks. "We can just charge him and lock him up already."

"Detective, you've been gone for a while so you might have forgotten how things need to run here," Murphy's words already moved Montserrat further into Nick's corner. Within the hour of her arrival, she could tell that Nick didn't really like this guy. "This squad needs to evolve. Little cases make big cases."

"I may have been away for a week, but I know exactly how this place runs. You, on the other hand, have only been here for how many days?" Montserrat found herself saying in response. Behind her, those who shared her feelings smirked.

Murphy seemed surprised at her snap but, with his experience, he had an easier time ignoring what he looked at as disrespect with commands.

"Look, lieutenant, we're not dealing with a mastermind here," Nick stepped up to back up Montserrat.

"We don't know what we're dealing with," Murphy insisted. "TARU still working on his computer?" All the detectives nodded their heads. "Find out where they are. Meanwhile, Fin and Rollins will walk him up the ladder, see where he leads us."

"You're the boss," Nick sarcastically said and turned to leave. He prompted the others to follow him.

"Is it too early for me to say I don't like him?" Montserrat asked quietly and quickly in case Murphy re-opened the door behind them.

"Nope," went Nick who made a direct beeline for his desk, though probably not to do as Murphy asked.

"Just give him a chance," Amanda said. "He's not what we're used to but he is a good guy."

"No one's debating his morals, Rollins," Sonny began, but Rafael had to chime in.

"Some of us are. I've done my due diligence on this guy and some of the things I found have left me… quite perplexed." Rafael had a mini-stare down against Amanda, but eventually the blonde detective looked away.

"Let's just go," Amanda muttered to Fin before taking the lead out.

"What things did you find on Murphy?" Nick had to ask Rafael after the other two were gone.

"I'd rather not say," the ADA cleared his throat and looked, clearly, uncomfortable.

"He's speechless?" Montserrat pointed his way. "It's gotta be bad. Why can't Olivia just take the lieutenant's exam and be the official commanding officer here?"

"Because that would be too easy," Nick begrudgingly answered.

After getting nothing from Gordan, Murphy decided to up the game. He passed himself off as another pedophile caught by SVU and practically scared the crap out of Gordon which motivated him to talk. And when they found what he led them to...they really wish they hadn't.

But their job required not only to them to see it, but their ADA too as well.

"I would brace myself, Councilor," Sonny patted Rafael's shoulder once the latter had sat down at the conference room.

Rafael rolled his eyes at the detective but did notice the others' uncomfortableness while Amanda pulled up their evidence. Even Fin looked rather shaken and he hardly showed any shock after his time at SVU.

"Kids without shame?" he read off the bold title of the web screen.

"It's a chat room for pedophiles. So here's the guy that Gordon tipped us off to," Olivia motioned Amanda to move down the screen from her laptop. "He calls himself 'Erastes."

"I see him from my window playing in the P.S. 27 school yard…" Rafael started reading from the screen when he heard Montserrat clear her throat.

She was looking quite pale. "I wouldn't read that out loud…"

Rafael gave her a look but, as he was meant to, he kept going and soon realized what she meant. "Sweet faced, chubby. I imagine stringing him...up…" he swallowed hard, "...hearing him squeal. How long do you think it would take for the blood to run out if I hung him upside down?" He had to take a moment for himself and shake that off. "That's horrifying, but-" and he really hated having to point this out, "-but it is on a site that explicitly says it's fantasy."

"He's talking about a real boy that he's seen," Nick countered.

"And you know this how?"

"We're giving you a heads-up, counselor, not asking for your blessing," Murphy declared and outright ignored Rafael's sharpened look. "I'm talking about one undercover meet. If it's just a fantasy, we walk away. And if it's not, do you want to be responsible for missing this?"

Oh, great, so now it was on him. This squad really liked squeezing him until he gave into whatever the hell they wanted. "Fine," he spat and got up from his seat. "One time. And you better get something good out of it."

There was an immediate debate about who would be going undercover and what the ruse would be. And some of them disagreed with the way things were chosen and handled.

"I need some drinks," Nick spat once Murphy, Amanda, Fin and Olivia had gone off for the undercover gig. He had complained about the entire gig to the remaining, including Rafael who had stuck by to listen to Nick's complaints. He sat at his desk and was practically ignoring the pile of work in front of him.

"You mean bottles?" Montserrat countered since she knew his mood stemmed from the one and only Declan Murphy.

Nick side-glanced her with a 'stop it' kind of look. "On me. Anyone?"

"I'll take some," Sonny rose from his chair with a finger raised in the air. He didn't complain out loud but he wasn't entirely devoted to Murphy's way of leading. "Councilor?"

"Sure," he gave in pretty easy, prompting the last detective to remark about it.

"Wow, you all will look lovely complaining about one Lieutenant," Montserrat smirked from one man to the next.

"You're free to join too," Nick gestured. "I know you don't like Murphy either."

"I didn't say that," she corrected but instead of believing her, all three men scoffed one after the other. "Oh shut up."

"C'mon, Montse," Sonny moved to her side of the desk and smiled down at the woman. "We can call Kara and make it a nice night out."

"Alright fine, since my presence is so desperately needed," she dramatically sighed and got pushed herself up from her seat. She grabbed her coat and purse and walked out with the trio.

~ 0 ~

Kara was ecstatic to have a night out. She was front and center even before the others arrived to their usual place.

"You look lovely," Sonny complimented her as soon as they met her outside. She was dressed in a nice tight, red dress.

"Thanks," Kara gushed and accepted his chaste kiss on her cheek before greeting the others.

"That looks familiar," Montserrat made a languid point at the outfit. She tilted her head and stared at it for a second before her eyes widened. "Hey, wait a second - that's my dress!"

Something akin to a snort came out of Nick's mouth. "You own that?"

Montserrat glared at him. "Not a word, Amaro."

"Oh don't argue," Kara hushed them both. "I just thought it would look nice. And it does."

"Here's to having that self confidence," Montserrat muttered and followed inside.

They found the bar counter empty towards its end and gladly took those seats. Kara, Sonny and Rafael ordered their drinks first whilst the remaining two deliberated on their choices.

"I just want to try something new," Montserrat shrugged after being practically commanded by the others to stop being so picky. She was not, in fact, going to end up picking the same thing she usually did as stated by Kara.

"Try this one," Nick said before clearing his throat and calling to the bartender. "Mojito, please."

It was safe to say Montserrat had no idea what that was. "What...what did you order?"

"Something new," Nick smirked all too proudly.

"Am I going to get drunk in two sips? Because that's not what I was going for."

"Relax, it's a Cuban drink. It's literally just rum and lime juice."

Montserrat gave Nick a long stare before flickering gazes to Rafael for some extra confirmation. He gave a silent nod but it was good enough for her.

"Fine. But next time give me a heads up. I have no idea what's in your people's type of drinks."

"My people's type of drinks?" Nick laughed. "What does that mean? That I'm Cuban?"

"And you drink. And so does…" Montserrat made a not-so-subtle nod at Rafael. The man in question narrowed his eyes on her but rather than being offended, he seemed amused. Where she was taking this, he had no idea.

"Now you're just being purposely mean," Kara was the one to say.

"You know they say the same thing about Slovaks?" Nick countered. "You guys drink way too much."

"Point taken, but it's not true."

"Mm, I've seen you drown scotch," Rafael spoke up only to get a glare from Montserrat.

"Yeah, every time you offered some. You own the bottle."

"And yet you drank most of it."

Montserrat glared at him for a full minute before uttering, "Oh, shut up."

Rafael smirked, and soon did the others. Montserrat just settled into her seat and waited for her drink to come by. Luckily, it did along with the others'.

Montserrat picked up her glass and eyed its flashy green contents. "It just looks like a bunch of leaves."

Her complaint made Nick smile after taking a sip of his own glass. "It's good, just try it."

"I wouldn't try it," muttered Kara who then received a jab from Sonny. "What? He's poisoning my friend-"

"-I resent that," Nick pointed at her. "I'd do a much better job if that was my intention."

"Oh, well, thanks," Montserrat huffed.

"Just take the damn drink, Montserrat," Rafael was close to groaning in annoyance with her. "If anything, it'll be weak."

Montserrat raised her glass again and peered over its top. She shrugged in the end and took a big drink. Her face immediately scrunched when she tasted the acidic lime. And she shivered. "What is that!?" she put her glass down and refused to touch it ever again.

"That is a Mojito and you are wasting it," Nick promptly responded with.

"Uh, no," Montserrat cocked her head to the side. "That is overpriced lemonade. And it's not even good."

When Rafael thought Nick had gotten enough of her scolding, he chimed in for Nick's sake. By now, he had a pretty good idea of what Montserrat would like for drinks. "Would you like some of that scotch now?"

Montserrat smiled sweetly in a sarcastic manner, one he came to like admittedly. "Yes, please."

"The whole bottle?" and he gave her that smug face she pretended to hate but secretly craved more for.

"Shut up and order me my drink." Montserrat pretended to huff and look away while Rafael did order for her.

"Que débil eres," Nick's mock, though in a foreign language, pulled Montserrat's deadpanning glance.

"Nu-uh, don't you start using Spanish on me to mock me." Montserrat meant to sound offended, but after trying to be the bigger person she found herself uttering something else, "Ty hlupák."

Nick paused just as he was about to drink and thought of what he heard. Even Rafael and Sonny were having trouble making out Montserrat's words. The only one who seemed unsurprised was Kara.

"What…" Nick lowered his glass and turned to face Montserrat, "...what did you just say?"

"You moron," Montserrat said proudly. "Anyone else have something to say in a foreign language?"

"If I say something nice in Spanish, will you say something nice in Slovak?" Nick flashed her a smile that elicited a laugh from her.

"Alright, I'm gonna need y'all to stop flirting," Kara's remark affected Montserrat more than it should, and perhaps Rafael too. The latter stayed quiet but he was watching Montserrat's every movement. Who knows...it's almost as if Kara planned such a comment.

Judging by Sonny's disapproving glance, she just might have.

"I-I wasn't," Montserrat shook her head. "...just playing a game."

"Aw, and here I was hoping for something," Nick smirked and leaned closer to her. It was just too much fun to stop, especially since half of what he was doing was pissing Montserrat. "La pelirroja más ardiente que he conocido."

Montserrat raised an eyebrow at him, unable to keep a blush from reaching her face. "Goddamn you, Amaro. Is this how you pick up women? Because if it is...well done." She raised her hands, indicating he definitely won.

Nick couldn't help the big grin that took over his face. He really was just playing a game too and it got even more fun when it made an actual effect on her.

"A ty si ten najhladší muž, akého som kedy stretol," Montserrat returned, her Slovak tongue sounding far different than what everyone was used to hearing from her. There was a sharpness in her words, yet something...alluring about it. "And you are the smoothest man I have ever met," she repeated her words but translated.

Least that's what Rafael thought and figured Nick did too. It was ridiculous how angry he got in such a short minute, but it was real. He hadn't even realized how tightly he was gripping his glass, but Kara did. And she elbowed Sonny so he could see the same.

"Get your flirty friend out of here before your other friend commits murder and has to try his own trial," Kara told him in a hushed tone.

"Well, actually, he wouldn't be able to try his-" but Sonny stopped on account of Kara's hardened gaze. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Mhm," she said with a straight face.

"You gotta stop playing this game," Montserrat was telling Nick. "Save the Spanish and the looks for a woman who doesn't know you're as stubborn as a mule."

"Scotch?" The bartender stopped by with a glass for Rafael. He pointed the drink was for Montserrat and so the glass was slid down to her.

Just as she took it, Nick's cell phone started buzzing in his pocket. When he pulled it out, he saw it was his ex-wife, Maria. "Gotta take this. Be back in a bit."

"Oh, we got lucky," Kara said in a dramatic relieved tone.

"Oh, c'mon, you can't be taking this that serious," Sonny gave her a look. He of all people knew how badly Kara wanted things to work for Montserrat and Rafael, but she also failed to take in what reality had done. "It's harmless flirting."

"Well, it looked like Rafael wanted to inflict some real harm on Nick," Kara said quietly. "And you know, just because he's not a cop like you guys doesn't mean he can't make things look like an accident. If anything, being a prosecutor means he's seen exactly how to do it."

Sonny rolled his eyes at her and reached for his drink. "You're being over-dramatic."

"Am I?" Kara let a humorless laugh slip from her lips. "Look at that," she nodded ahead.

Without being interrupted by flirts or friendly banters, Montserrat and Rafael had found a moment to start conversing. At some point, the two had scooted closer to talk better.

"No, I'm serious. He's 7 months and he already had his two front teeth very much present," Montserrat was saying as she took drinks from her glass.

"So your vacation consisted of you visiting the family you were a surrogate mother for?" Rafael's strange look wasn't the most inviting but Montserrat just nodded her head.

"Yeah. I hadn't seen Leah or Michael in a while and I wanted to see Andrew too. He's 7 months, almost 8." Montserrat's face softened the more she talked about Andrew Saunders. She'd pulled her phone out and revealed some of the pictures she'd taken while she was away. "Leah and Michael moved to Brooklyn and they showed me around the city. It was a win-win."

"I can't believe that's really where you spent your vacation," Rafael continued to disbelieve and shake his head.

"You're one to talk. When's the last time you had a vacation?" Montserrat raised an eyebrow at him and didn't waver in her stare until he smiled in defeat. "That's right. Now c'mon-" she held her phone between the two with a picture of Andrew and herself on the screen, "-you're going to tell me this little guy isn't worth visiting?"

A pout. She was actually giving him a pout. It was a sarcastic pout, but a pout nonetheless. She could be such a child and yet...so goddamn attractive. Captivating.

Rafael resisted the urge to touch one of her ginger curls framing the side of her face. Instead, he focused on what she was showing him. It seemed like she'd gone to a park with Andrew and no doubt his parents. She held Andrew on her lap, looking down at him with a laugh. Andrew seemed ecstatic being given her absolute attention.

"Sounds like fun," he found himself saying. "...he has red hair," he noticed after a moment's watch.

"Michael's a redhead," Montserrat said dismissively. "Anyways, glad you see my point. We don't always have to bicker, you know."

"That's a choice? I have a choice?"

Montserrat deadpanned his sarcastic surprise.

From her spot, Kara saw Nick returning after finishing his call. "Oh no, he's not ruining this. He can flirt with me if he needs to!"

Sonny's face scrunched at that idea. "N-n-n-no, wait a minute-" but he was too late because Kara had already gotten up from her stool to retrieve Nick before he could reach his seat.

"Sit with me flirty detective," she cheerfully pulled him to the empty stool on her left.

"O-okay," Nick could only blink as he was sat down in his reassigned seat. "What are we doing?"

"I don't know," Sonny answered while giving Kara an unamused look.

"What?" she looked between the two detectives oh-so-innocently. "Feel free to speak in Spanish and Italian to me. Take turns, even."

"Kara," Sonny shook his head disapprovingly, but Kara could care less.

Something funny had been said between Rafael and Montserrat because the latter was laughing hard. She leaned her head back on his shoulder in the process. Rafael stopped for a second to look down at her, but she was too busy laughing to notice. He couldn't even remember exactly what he'd said to make her laugh so much, but he wasn't complaining.

[sir-silly]

TWDG S4 First Playthrough

E1 - Ohh how I’ve missed these characters. S4 isn’t flawless, but I love it so freaking much. The collectables are one of my favorite parts, tbh. I’m such a simp for Louis and that’s never gonna change, ngl. He’s so cute and caring and ugh. I need me one of those. Clem is so damn lucky.

Unsurprisingly, I’m the worst at controlling this season in particular. I’m not used to the mouse sensitivity being so high with the camera when you’re walking around but I can’t change it because then it’ll be different when I’m picking choices and stuff. I freaking suck at all of the kill walker scenes, I seriously died like 5 times clearing them out to help the hunting party. I’m concerned about when I have to help James at his camp lol.

The confrontation with Marlon at the end is so damn good. I just always find it so perfect and well done. Also, Louis helping AJ up when he gets pushed down is so fucking sweet. I love him so much. Appealing to him really hit hard and seeing that “Your relationship with Louis has changed” is just oof. I know what CJ has been talking about all this time now lol.

E2 - All of the cuts when Clem and AJ are talking at the beginning are freaking gorgeous. Like, with them standing in the same exact position with the background flashing are just MMMMM. That was really, really well done.

Fuck Lilly. Fuck her trying to help Clementine stand up. She makes me so damn angry. And Abel twisting AJ’s arm and Clem begging for him to stop just breaks my heart. It makes me wonder how much of these interactions Violet and Louis saw, because they would have known to turn around the second they heart that first gunshot. Like, while they were sneaking up, what all did they hear? I told Vi to shoot Lilly because, once again, fuck her.

I’m still so damn bad at the walker killing scenes. It’s honestly sad how terrible I am at them, like, I don’t know why I struggle so much. I think a part of it is that in previous seasons, it would only be like 2 or 3 walkers, meanwhile in S4, it’s like 5 or 6. It’s also probably the fact that we have to control both the camera and Clem’s movements. I just can’t do both.

James is cute. I love him. He’s a sweet boi. Louis carrying AJ in is cute. I love him. He’s a sweet boi. When they get upstairs and AJ calls for Clem, he just sounds so scared and it hurts me. He’s still just a little kid and I couldn’t imagine my cousins that are his age going through these kinds of things.

The banter between Clem, Ruby and Mitch at the greenhouse is so cute and wholesome. Like, Ruby saying that condensation is a big word for Mitch and him daring Clementine to drink whatever is in the vials with her saying “not in a million years.” It’s just so sweet and so similar to modern jokes between friends, it just makes me so happy.

Also, Mitch is one strong boi. Like, Clem is strong, don’t get me wrong. She fuckin chops down trees and pushes adults off of balconies, but she couldn’t get that damn propane tank to budge, meanwhile Mitch comes over and picks it up with one hand. It reminds me of Peeta in The Hunger Games with how he could throw bags of flour over his shoulders super easily.

Another also, the way Mitch says propane annoys me lol. He puts the emphasis on the O instead of the A, so it’s prOpane instead of propAne. It’s just always bothered me and I had to complain about it lmao. Ruby is cute. I love her. She’s a sweet gorl.

AJ asking to sleep in Clem’s bed, her saying she’s still little, and him saying he slept better with her are just so damn cute. I freaking love their relationship so damn much. They’re just so sweet together and I can’t help but gush over them.

Louis talking about Marlon while shooting arrows is just a great scene to me, no matter how short it is. I don’t understand how people can still hate him so much when he explains how close they were and how guilty he feels, not just about kicking Clem and AJ out, but his role in Marlon’s death.

In the previous seasons, I think players became really desensitized to a character losing someone. 1 was honestly pretty good with Kenny’s loss of Duck and Katjaa with his anger and hyperfixations, 2 was a mess with Luke losing literally everyone he knows and being like “meh”, and 3 was also really bad with how Mari, Gabe and David can all die and three days later, Kate’ll still be like “let’s start a family uwu.” I think because of all this, people were really hard on Louis when he reacted like a normal human being over Marlon, which really sucks.

During the card game, when Louis reassures AJ about not being there for the old world and he and Clem kinda nod at her, is so ffffucking cute. I’ll never get over that. They shared a similar look their first night when he gave AJ the rest of his soup even though he was clearly super hungry. I cherish these looks between them and for once, it almost seems unbalanced with Violet lol. Like, I don’t feel like you get those looks with Violet no matter what you choose like you do with Louis those first two episodes. And Louis teasing Aasim about Ruby is really adorable.

And of course, helping him tune the piano is just UGH. He’s so damn cute and I can’t get over it. The scene has some of my favorite interactions between him and Clem. One, where he’s like “How do you feel about our imminent deaths?” and she doesn’t say anything and he says, “You know I’m here for you.” and it’s so CUTE. Two, he has her blow on the strings, she says “I can’t believe I fell for that.” while laughing and he goes, “It’s good to see you like this.” Like, how damn sweet is this boy? He sees that she puts on just as much of a cold exterior as he does with a humorous one, realizing that they both let their guards down around each other. Three, Clem calling Louis a weirdo and him saying that she likes that so in reality, they’re both weird.

Another thing I’ll never get over is Mitch’s death. It makes me hella salty and just grrrr. LOOK HOW THEY MASSACRED MY BOY!!!!

E3 - Willy crying over Mitch’s body is oof. Louis holding Clem’s hand is oof. I wish there was a third option during Abel’s interrogation where you could tell AJ that you don’t want him to watch rather than saying he doesn’t have to.

Again, unsurprisingly, I sucked at James’ camp with the walkers. I had to kill some of them because I literally couldn’t stay alive, so that made me angry. I also missed some of the collectables at James’ barn which also made me mad. AJ and Clem’s interactions with the salt lick are super cute. Talking to James about walkers is much more of an oof when you actually let Lee turn.

So, here’s my thing about the scene in the barn with the walkers and the chimes. No, I don’t think there’s anything more inside of walkers and I agree completely with the dialogue choice that it sounds like hell if that’s true. So James is saying they’re at peace when you go in and touch the times, but that isn’t accurate. They walk up to the chimes because it’s noise. You can’t hear them growling and moaning because the audio switches to music to try and make it more meaningful. James then proceeds to say that when walkers are alone, they’re innocent and harmless which is so inaccurate it hurts. What about Sandra in Clem’s house almost killing Lee? What about the walker that bit Duck? What about the one that bit Lee? Or the one in the shed while Clem stitched her arm? The one that dragged Luke to the bottom of the lake? It’s bullshit.

Louis’ date with Clem makes me hella salty only because he doesn’t get to give her anything like Vi gives her a pin. That’s also bullshit. He’s fucking cute though with being unable to light the matches and saying, “Have you met you?” and shit. Ngl, the first time he said he saw some magazines in the headmaster’s office, I was like LOUIS NO, but they were just about dating so it’s ok lmao. AJ and Clem with the ball and the “I love you” are so fucking adorable.

The hootenanny is cute. Ruby is cute. Louis saying “a woman after my heart” is cute. Him saying leprechauns are too hard to explain to AJ is cute. It’s all cute. Clem tells Ruby that purple was her dad’s favorite color, but it also was her favorite color in S1. If you stand around her and Katjaa for long enough, she’ll tell her that it’s her favorite. So, it’s apparently changed, and it makes me wonder what it is now.

I don’t believe Willy’s reason for getting sent to Ericson. I think that the real reason he was sent was really upsetting, so he never told anyone why he was actually sent there. So, when he learned about masturbation, he thought it was funny and used that excuse instead to make it funny.

I know that the shit with Louis’ parents really hurt him, but I always laugh so hard over the meme that’s like, “violet: my grandma killed herself in front of me 😔. louis: my parents got me the wrong gucci flipflops 😭😭😭.” It’s really tempting to say the dialogue option “worst party ever” but I never do lol.

The dream sequence with Lee always gets to me. Specifically, when we hear “Hey, sweetpea” and Clem looks up in shock, when she runs to hug him, when he’s like “Just look at you,” and when he leaves saying, “It’s time to go. There’s people that need you.” And goddammit, wHERE IS MY OPTION TO TELL HIM THAT I LOVE HIM??!?!?!!! I DON’T JUST WANT TO SAY THAT I MISS HIM!!!!!! I WANT IT ALL!!!!

I’m not even going to get into all of my problems with Violet’s scene in the cell because it makes me too salty and mad. There were some issues with Louis’, too, but not nearly as many. Just grrrrr.

I suck at the fighting sequences as well lol. Like, I got Clem punched so many times lmao. Also, where is my option to be like, “Hey AJ give me the gun” so Clem kills Lilly. Because I want her dead and I want James alive, but I don’t want him to be the one pulling that trigger again. Angery. Where are my choices, choice based game?

E4 - AJ’s talking for the previously on TWD gives me chills when he’s like, “But I remember all the rules. And the first one...is never go alone.” So good. If you can give me chills with just audio and screencaps, you did a good job. Y’all, everyone’s gotta be so damn sore after that explosion. Like, they running around a limber and shit but nah, everything’s going to hurt. And Clem’s climbing all over all this metal with fire literally right next to it, that shit would be so damn hot you’d burn your hands.

Fuck Lilly and her trying to make you feel bad as she’s getting away on the raft. Fuck the fact that you can’t shoot her afterwards. I make the choice three damn times to shoot her, and you still don’t let me have my choice. Bullshit. I hope she eats shit and dies.

Louis and Clem hugging on land is so cute. Violet getting blinded is dumb. It’s like they had to even the levels since Louis got his tongue cut out, which is just stupid. If they wanted to have them both hurt, they should have just set that they pulled out her eye or something instead of her getting blinded after the fact. I find it really dumb. I can’t even tell you how many times I died on the damn beach trying to get through the walkers. It shouldn’t be this hard to control your game.

As much as I hate James’ character flip in the cave, I do love that scene and I prefer it over the one without him. AJ really does have a lot of problems and if I didn’t know that not trusting him would kill Louis, I would have picked that. But I love Louis too damn much for that. He’s still so young and none of these are choices that he should have to make. And the fact that he chose to shoot Tenn in the neck adds to that. He doesn’t know to aim for a non-kill shot to stop someone like Clementine does, so his first real friend ended up dead. And his perspective on things after the game is still messed up, which you can tell by the “What Clem taught me” segment at the end.

The reunion with Louis is adorable. Him saying “longest damn minute of my life” is adorable. Him talking about his skylight and the house they’re going to build is adorable. I love all of it. I always have a hard time with the final touch, because I love that he wants a new piano, the nostalgia of a treehouse, and the dialogue “Thanks dad” for the skylight lol. Tenn’s face when Louis tells him he can help with painting is so fucking cute.

Minnie coming up to the bridge is so well done. It’s so ominous (I think the French version is the creepiest) and the look Louis and Clem share is just like “wtf, do you hear that too?” I died a million times during their fight scene as well because I can’t play this game for shit. I don’t know why, but I find Louis jumping the gap really attractive lol. Like, our boi woulda killed it in long jump lmao.

Y’all got an axe. You shoulda broke the damn lock off that gate. Smh.

As always, the whole process of Clem getting bit and her talking with AJ in the barn is heartbreaking. It gets to me every damn time, just like her and Lee’s does. It’s honestly hard for me to decide which one is sadder because while Clementine raised AJ his whole life, Lee became her family so quick and was cut so short. I prefer the choice of killing Clem just because you get more dialogue between her and AJ before he cuts her leg off, but I didn’t have it in me to tell him that, so I told him to leave her.

I have mixed feelings about the placement of the flashback to McCarroll Ranch. Part of me thinks it belongs in a different episode, but another likes it where it is. It just doesn’t seem to fit well where it was placed.

Much like 9 year old Clem being able to drag an unconscious Lee into the jewelry store, it would be impossible for 5 year old AJ to get her thicc ass into that wheelbarrow and push her to the school. I enjoy the headcanon that James arrived not too long after the amputation and helped get her back, but decided to stay in the woods because he didn’t want anyone to see him.

I missed another collectable in the damn shed which I’m salty as hell about. I love the reuse of Take Us Back, as many of us do. I just had to bring it up because it makes me emotional. Clem pushing AJ on the swing is adorable. The dinner scene is adorable. Violet’s voice is adorable. Louis kissing Clem on the cheek is adorable. It’s all adorable.

When Clem asks if she did a good job, I will always and forever pick the “Is she crazy?!” option because everything she did was incredible. She never had to take care of AJ. She wasn’t stuck with him. She could have left him behind so many times, but she never did. And like Javier said, not everyone is like her, not everyone wants to take care of a baby. And she fought like hell for him day after day, no matter what.

And you can see, especially in the cave scene when AJ brings up the fact that she’s still just a kid too, that she still has so much bottled up inside. She grew up so damn fast and became a goddamn powerhouse. Anyone that got in the way of her and AJ was going to end up dead. She never knew what it meant to be a parent before the world ended. She didn’t get to the age where you understand the choices parents make when raising their kids. And yet, she still raised a child all while raising herself in the middle of an apocalypse.

Clementine, you did a better job than anyone else ever could have.

[angrylizardjacket]

mouth full of white lies {Machine Gun Kelly} 2

2. i been fronting that it’s just for the summer

Summary: So you’re together, sort of, and it’s great! Everyone seems to be convinced, that’s not the issue. The issue comes when you fly to LA for filming, and you decide to stay with Colson, but the room only has one bed. And the paparazzi crash your first “date”. And he kisses you and your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest, which is not supposed to happen because this isn’t a real relationship! But it’s fine. Probably. 

A/N: So bare with me, it’s a very long chapter. Also, pretend the Tunnel of Love remix by haroinfather came out before 2018 and not in 2019. Enjoy. 

the brainstrust: @sataninsatin @silvertonguedserpent @juliarose21 @kellysimagines @estxxbritt @machine-gun-casie @harringtonstudios @misscharlottelee @narcvissa @hiworlditishumbleme @angelwarner28 @nevilles-insinuations @rumoured-whispers @mgkobsessed @edwardtriggerhandzz @suckerforbarnes @wastelcve @bakerkells @local-troubled-writer @freddiessmallnipples @oopsiedoopsie23

----

It feels like you’re braced for impact when you walk into rehearsals the day after you release the video. Douglas has already seen it, of course he has, he messages you minutes after it’s posted.

[Dig Doug: Not gonna say I Told You So, but im glad you’re happy. 🦆🦆]

It gets you to smile, despite your anxiety surrounding the whole situation.

“Now what?” Colson asked after the video was posted, sitting next to you on his bed. The duvet is so soft, and somehow the whole situation is so inherently soft. Maybe it’s that you’re both in hoodies and sweat pants. Maybe it’s that you’d just told the world that you’re dating. His eyes are so blue.

You phone goes off. 

His phone goes off. 

Both of you have Twitter muted, but even so, it needed to let you both know that you were getting a lot of mentions.

“Now we’re dating,” you say, flipping your phone over, while Colson picks his up, opening Twitter and beginning to scroll through his mentions. Where in the Hell were you meant to go from here.

“Alright, cool; you wanna get pizza or something?” He asks, simple as that, and it’s now you seem to realise that you’ve been so stressed from everything that had been happening that you hadn’t been remembering to feed yourself.

“Honestly, I’d love to.”

The next day, however, it’s the elephant in the room; the others don’t say anything, but everyone, even Douglas to some extent, was wondering how in the hell they had missed your apparent relationship. But it’s not awkward; you and Colson act the same as always, you take notes for Josy, and get coffee, and type away on your laptop. 

They break for lunch, and you look up from your work only to see Josy making a beeline for you, an intimidating look of determination written all over her face. Ah, here’s where the interrogation begins. Glancing over your shoulder you see Colson shoot you an amused, if concerned look, glancing to Josy. In response, you shrug; it can’t be helped.

“We need to talk,” Josy tells you, steers you from the room, across the parking lot, into a whole new building, where she paces for about three minutes, unable to look at you, hands basically pulling out her hair, all of which amuses you greatly. When she comes to a stop in front of you, it’s as if you can see the cogs of her brain turning, her fingers steepled in front of her mouth as she tries to order her thoughts.

“You know you’re my favourite assistant in the world and I treasure our friendship, right?” She asks, and you fix her with a fondly exasperated stare.

“Of course, you see fit to remind me every time I bring you coffee -”

“Then why, my little duck, my little goose, apple of my eye, enchilada of my bosom,” she says with an almost poisonous sweetness, looking you directly in the eye, “would you date one of my actors?” And you have to hold back your laughter in the face of her sincere and rather angry confusion.

“Josy, please,” you start, and she already looks like she wants to interrupt, “I like him is all, okay? I won’t be a distraction -” you can already see her trying to protest, but you hold up your hand to stop her, “and he won’t distract me; if anything, it means there’ll be no outside distractions, hopefully.”

“[Y/N] you test me,” Josy sighs deeply, scrubbing at her face, “how long?”

This gives you cause for hesitation, because neither you nor Colson had thought to get your whole story straight the night before. He had ordered room service and you’d just talked about music until you finally went back to your own room. An oversight, sure, but you had been glad to have a plan, and were happy to figure out the details later.

“A few weeks -” when you say this, Josy makes a choked, wheezing noise, and you pause, “since... uh, since he took us around the city at the end of the first week.”

“Does Douglas know?”

“He’s not my handler,” you fire off reflexively, and Josy winces, a little sheepish, “but yes.” You paused. “Now.”

Josy lets the whole conversation slide with some reluctance, and she asks you to get her lunch from the deli a few blocks away. You agree, partially because it’s your job, but mostly because you’re just glad to get out of the building and away from her exasperated, judgmental stares.

He’s corrupting you. It’s what the media thinks. It’s what Josy thinks. And something about the assumption is already starting to get under your skin. But right as you start to get truly annoyed by the subtext she had been blasting you with, you hear your phone chime.

[Colson: am i gonna get The Talk from my AD later on? Ducky: wot Colson: like u no... if you hurt my daughter im gonna hurt you Ducky: Josys not my mom??? shes like 3 years older than me???? Colson: its a joke. chill ducky. everything alright tho? Ducky: told her wed been dating since that night i filmed a few weeks ago Colson: smart. everyone thinks weve been together since then nyways Ducky: you want anything from the deli? Colson: what Ducky: im at the deli. u want a sandwich? Colson: yeh sure. surprise me. maybe chicken idk. webber wants a chocolate milk Ducky: milks bad for vocal cords Colson: he doesnt care 😈]

It makes you laugh. He makes you laugh. It’s as easy as that; you’re still friends, it’s just that you spend more time together, are closer, when you go out for dinner with the cast, he’s invariably beside you. You’re both always on time to rehearsals, and he keeps sending you selfies from costume and makeup tests, and it’s going fine, great even, despite all the nasty DMs you were still receiving. Of course the supportive ones always outweighed the negative, and even the negative didn’t really bother you, because it’s not as if there was a real relationship in jeopardy, so it actually took a lot of weight off your shoulders.

Filming is set to start on location in LA after about a month and a half of rehearsals, and while the first month had primarily been working on scenes, the extra fortnight you’d been there had been almost consistently rehearsing as a band for eight hours a day, six days a week. The day before you’re due to fly off, the whole cast looks exhausted at brunch. 

“Pass me the salt,” Colson yawns, half asleep with his head against the window of the cafe.

“It’s right in front of you,” you counter, knocking his knee with yours beneath the table.

“My arms don’t work,” he groaned, but he was smiling now, just a little. You look to the other cast members all enjoying their own respective breakfasts. Daniel’s on voice rest, despite the fact that they’re going to be using recordings of Motley Crue themselves for the actual film, they still want him able to perform covers for when they’re filming; currently he’s nursing a lemon and ginger tea with enough honey to drown a bee. Actually, Colson was the only one out of the four of them not to be drinking tea; both Iwan and Douglas both having ordered a cup with their breakfasts. Iwan was the only one who looked ready for the day, with the rest of them all slumped over in various states of exhaustion.

“Ducky, come on, please?” Colson actually whined, and you rolled your eyes, passing him the salt.

“You’re so needy,” you tell him, but your smile is enough to let him know that you’re joking.

“Why’re you called Duck, if I may ask?” Iwan asks, and you heave a sigh, knowing Douglas was already smiling before you even turn to look at him.

“Because when our parents first brought her home, all she did was follow me around like a duckling,” his tone is all fond, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in for a side hug despite your indignant noise of protest.

“Adorable,” Iwan grins over the lip of his cup. You just groan, and steal a bite of Douglas’ pancakes, though he doesn’t seem to mind, “have you worked much in the industry?” Iwan’s accent sounds like home, and despite how quiet and bitter he is in character, he’s rather bright and talkative as a person.

“Here and there; I actually spent quite a few of my teenage years as Doug’s assistant when he would be filming in London,” you say with a half-smile, “still a bit of a duck I suppose, but it looks good on my CV. I do odd-jobs on sets here and there back home, have been a runner for a few TV shows, but I don’t really go out of my way to be on camera, you know,” you shrug, before hearing your mistake. Both Colson and Douglas are already laughing, while Daniel and Iwan just seem confused. “Apart from, like, my actual job, you know? Like I’m on camera for YouTube, but not for a real movie or anything.”

“Well you seem very good at your job, we’re glad to have you onboard,” Iwan nods with a surprisingly sincere smile. Beneath the table, Colson’s hand is on your knee, and he gives you a small squeeze.

“I thought your hands didn’t work?” You raise an eyebrow at him, and Douglas almost spits his drink all over Daniel at the implication.

“Excuse me?” His eyes are wide as saucers and Colson’s quickly turning red.

“I said my arms don’t work but damn, call me out why don’t you?” He splutters, raising his hands in the air in mock surrender, with only mild wincing. It’s about now that you realise the assumption that your brother had jumped to.

“His hand was on my knee, Doug, I was trying to make a joke,” you explain, flustered, though Daniel and Iwan on the other side of the booth have collapsed on top of each other with laughter. You, Douglas, and Colson, however, are all equally mortified, and make a point to move so neither of you are touching as you finish your breakfast quickly.

“I just appreciate,” Daniel was still chuckling as you all left the cafe, as was Iwan, “that Doug genuinely thought Colson was getting busy with his sister at brunch, like, right next to him under the table.

“Nah,” Iwan actually laughs, his smile sharp, “they’re just really in character.”

“Hello! Hello and welcome back, ducklings! Today we’re flying all the way to sunny L.A, which honestly isn’t that far from Portland, but the production company was nice enough to not make us road trip it.” 

The video starts in your hotel room, and follows you as you pack your things, and cuts to a montage set to some royalty-free music, of you heading to the airport, of the cast yawning. Your brother buys you breakfast at a fast-food restaurant in the airport, and you check your bags; a panning shot in the waiting area, of every single member of the cast and crew that are taking this flight on their phones.

“You look cute,” you mutter very quietly to Colson, who’s sitting next to you, scrolling through Twitter with a travel pillow squished up around his neck. He gives you a toothy smile, leans his cheek against the pillow, and winks at the camera. 

The hotel you’re staying at is beautiful, all marble pillars in the foyer and beige and cream counters, and it feels like it might be too much. This is where the stars stay, and you? You know you’re absolutely not a star.

“Duck?” And there’s Josy’s voice, hesitant, about to tell you the jig is up, hand you keys to a water stained motel room a few blocks away. When you turn to her, she’s got two separate key cards in her hands.

“Yes, Josy?” You ask sweetly; it’s not her fault, after all, that you’re not a top-billed star. 

“So corporate wanted to put you with some of the other crew, they’re staying in a place down the road - it’s really lovely, trust me, and if you want it we can still get you a room - but,” Josy glanced to the cards in her hand, before holding them out, one in each hand, “if you’d like to stay here, both your brother and Colson are happy to share with you.” And at this, your brain stalls, looking at the key cards being offered to you.

“Why didn’t they tell me this?”

“Because they’re already heading up, but they wanted me to let you know that the offer’s there.”

So it seems that in the three minutes that you were mooning over the architecture, and giving the guys their space, since you’d assumed you’d be staying elsewhere, both your brother and your fake boyfriend happened to mention that you’re able to stay with them if you want. Douglas is not a surprise; Colson is. 

“How big are the rooms, I don’t want to -” you start, but Josy’s quick to cut you off.

“The size isn’t the matter; they’re big enough rooms, got really comfortable sofas from what I could see, but...”

“But?” You prompt, and Josy gives a smile. 

“Of course, it’s all about what you’re comfortable with; you know Doug’s more than happy to take the sofa, I just know you and Colson haven’t been together that long -” And here it all starts to make sense, and you hope the smile you give isn’t nervous as you ask which key is which. You take Colson’s.

The elevator ride up to the cast’s floor has you wracked with nerves, which you think is ridiculous; you can sleep on the sofa, it’s no trouble, and he wouldn’t have offered the room if he hadn’t meant it. So why does the idea of staying in a room with him, with only one bed, have your heart beating so fast? You’d been teasing each other, flirting and being cute together, in front of other people, that was easy, but since the night you’d released the video, you hadn’t really been alone together. You hadn’t needed to be. It seems like all you can think about as you walk down the beige hallway to your room, on auto-pilot as you scan your key card and enter the room.

It’s quiet.

There’s the gentle whistling of wind that comes from the balcony, the overhead sun beating down on the pristine, Hollywood beaches. He sits on the balcony, plush armchair, smoking a joint with his shirt off. Inside, it’s all white walls and gold accents, his suitcase on the bed, already open the contents inside surprisingly neatly folded. There’s a door beside you that you’re pretty sure leads to the bathroom, and the room itself is spacious, with a gorgeous, gray sofa sitting off to one side, and a wall-mounted television on the other. Just for the moment, all the fears and anxieties in your mind vanish at the sight of this pristine serenity.

Quietly, you wheel your own suitcase to the sofa, and pull out your phone. 

He’s stunning, like that, his feet up on the coffee table on the balcony, free hand tapping a lazy beat on the arm of his chair. You take a candid photo of him as he exhales smoke, and it catches the sunlight beautifully, with the water out of focus in the background. 

“Can I post this?” You ask, and he jumps a little, not having heard you come in, before his concerned expression morphs to a genuine smile when he realises that it’s you. Turning the phone to him, you show him the photo you took, and he lowers his sunglasses to get a proper look at it. After a beat, his gaze flicks to yours.

“’course, it’s a nice photo.”

“You’re very photogenic,” you brush of his compliment with a smile, and he pushes his glasses back up his nose, looking out from the balcony.

“You crashing here?” 

“If it’s not too much trouble,” you respond, and he actually laughs, though the sound is kind.

“Wouldn’t have offered if it was.”

Easy. Like everything else about him, it seemed, this was easy.

You caption the photo ‘the view from my balcony 😍’ and post it on both Twitter, and your Instagram story, tagging him in both, and you set about checking out the room’s facilities. It’s a normal, if fancy hotel room. Little bottles of soaps and shampoo and conditioner in the bathroom, TV with a bunch of standard channels, and a whole ton more that you could pay for if you wanted, it even had a set of cables so you could charge your phone, either side of the bed. The singular bed. Which Colson has clearly already claimed.

Maybe it had been a mistake to not board with your brother. 

“I’m getting lunch, you want anything?” You call, needing to get out of your own head for a bit, wanting to explore the city a little. He’s quiet for a moment, then you hear a strained ‘yeah’.

“Gimme a moment, let me put on a shirt and I’ll come with you,” he tells you through a lung full of smoke, putting the joint out in the ash tray provided, tucking the other half in his pocket for later.

“You not gonna vlog this?” He asks, half smiling in the elevator, hands tucked into his pockets. 

“Oh, shit, knew I forgot something,” you mutter, and you go to punch in the number of your floor again, but his hand catches yours. 

“We’re coming back after, don’t worry about it.”

And, well, you don’t.

It’s easy to talk to him, you swap stories about life in the entertainment industry from two wildly different perspectives, and you find a cute and overpriced restaurant to have lunch in. All the while, you’re so aware of where you are, how there could be any number of people snapping photos of the pair of you. It’s not like you’re being overtly couple-y, you’d only been putting on this ruse for three weeks at this point, but he pays for your lunch.

“Oh, I didn’t realise this was a date,” you admit, a little surprised, a little flustered. He shrugs, eats the last bite of his burger, and smiles.

“Why not? We haven’t had the chance to go on one yet, let’s take it for a test drive. Do they- are boardwalks still a thing? Is a boardwalk carnival still a thing or was that just the nineties?” You’re actually rather taken aback by his suggestion, and can’t help but grin, picking up your mostly empty glass to swirl the ice at the bottom.

“Pretty sure boardwalks are a thing, not sure about carnivals on them, but we can check it out.”

You each finish your drinks and leave, setting off for the waterfront. Feeling bold, you tuck your arm in his, and enjoy the Spring-time sunshine. The boardwalk, as it turns out, is still definitely a thing, as are the kitschy carnival rides along it. 

“I feel like a fuckin’ teenager,” Colson mutters under his breath, knowing you’ll hear it, “if we see a couple where they’re both wearing braces, looking like they just got out of school, I’m throwing myself straight into the ocean.” He informs quietly, and you snort at that.

“Not a fan of traditional cute date shit?” You ask, as the pair of you approach the ticket booth. 

“Not in the slightest,” Colson admits through his teeth while trying to smile at the attendant. The attendant, who obviously recognizes at least one of you, is doing her best not to look like she’s staring. You each buy a ride pass and head in, and the girl tells you to have a good afternoon, with a nervous sort of excitement. 

“This feels like somewhere I’d go with my daughter,” Colson looks doubtfully up at the ferris wheel that sat ahead of you at the end of the pier, looking more than a little perturbed, but his words struck you in a way that you hadn’t expected.

“Have you told her about us?” You asked, and he casts an unreadable glance at you.

“Listen, if we’re going to talk about... stuff like this, let’s at least do it somewhere a little more private?” It seems he, just like you, is acutely aware of how busy the little set of attractions is, and having already been recognized once, it’s almost certainly not going to be the last time today.

The gangly-limbed teenager working the ferris-wheel doesn’t even hide that he’s staring at Colson with hero-worship in his eyes, and he gives you a look over, followed by an approving, rather smug nod, before closing the door of the carriage. It makes your skin crawl.

“Why does everyone get to decide if I’m good enough for you based on my looks?” You hear yourself mutter, but Colson’s slinging his arm around your shoulders as the pair of you are raised steadily into the air. 

“Who gives a shit? They’re jealous, and it doesn’t matter because we’re not really together anyways,” he’s got a point, but your expression is still downcast, and there’s a strange sadness settling in the pit of your stomach. 

“I suppose.”

Once you’re high enough in the air that no-one from the ground should be able to hear either of you even a little bit, Colson sits back, lets his gaze drift across the horizon.

“I told Cassie about us, told her the truth.” He doesn’t sugar coat it, doesn’t try and explain his way out of it, when instead he looks tense, like he’s read to defend himself. You, however, nod, giving him an understanding smile.

“Of course, she’s your daughter,” you pause, and he finally looks back at you, and you think you see some hint of relief in his eyes, “I never expected for you to lie to her.”

“She’s a good kid,” he assures softly, “got a good head on her shoulders.” And now he’s turning fond, giving your shoulder a squeeze, “fuckin’ who knows where she got it, ‘cos it ain’t me.” Laughing a little, he’s surprised when you answer, voice soft and sincere.

“You’ve gotta give yourself more credit,” you tell him matter-of-factly, “you wouldn’t be half as successful as you are if you didn’t have a good bit of sense.”

“I knew there was a reason I was dating you,” he teases, pulling you in close, but you play along.

“Yeah, it’s that good sense of yours,” you returned, and he gave you a gentle shove. “Am I going to meet her at all?” You ask finally, and Colson gives another shrug.

“Yeah, I mean sure, she wants to come to set, so if you’re around you’re welcome to meet her,” his fingers are drumming lightly against your shoulder, “I should warn you though, she tends to vet any girls I’m getting serious about pretty hard, fake or not.” And yeah, you’re laughter’s a bit disbelieving, and though he sees the humour in it, he doesn’t seem to be joking, “she’s a good judge of character, and I’ll tell you now, I’m mad protective of her, but she’s mad protective of me too.” The thought of it is actually endearing, and you lean into him, letting yourself heave a sigh of contentment, glad to have talked this through.

“This would have been real nice to film,” he muttered, a teasing edge to his voice as the two of you stared out at the glittering ocean.

“Don’t even start,” you gave his ribs a shove, which only made him laugh, the sound warm and easy in the afternoon air, the sun moving slowly to the horizon.

Slowly but surely Colson was warming to the little boardwalk carnival. The two of you play obviously rigged games, and ride the rollercoaster that creaks ominously, and he even convinces you to share some fairy floss. He snaps a picture of you grinning wide and genuine as you offer him the treat, and posts it to Twitter with the caption ‘sweet’. 

There’s a Tunnel of Love ride that Colson had adamantly refused to go on at first, but as sunset was drawing closer, he relented. 

“I’m not a cliche! I’m not a fucking cliche!” He huffs, sitting beside you with his arms crossed, his legs so long that his knees came up almost comically. You’re filming on your phone for your Instagram story, and will later add at least two heart gifs, but for now you’re just obnoxiously singing the Tunnel of Love remix, thankful that you’re the only two on the ride at the moment.

“You so fucking cute, when I see you, I uwu, can you be my fucking boo? Can you be my sailor moon?” Hearing the smile in your voice, he turns to you, something about his expression softening as he sees the joy written all over your face that the camera can’t see, “and I don't wanna fight, I just wanna treat you right; I was aiming at your heart and I don't wanna say goodbye.” 

He just laughs, and shakes his head as the ride takes off, fond adoration written all over his face.

The sun’s setting by the time you’ve ridden all the rides you wanted to, eaten all the candy you could possibly stomach, and failed at enough rigged games that you were about ready to call it quits. 

“Hey I didn’t just wanna come here for the carnival shit,” he said, and you’ve got your arm tucked into his again as he steers you both to the edge of the boardwalk, where there was a set of steps down to the beach. 

“Under the boardwalk,” you nod knowingly, which he parrots back with a smile. Beneath the boardwalk there was a gaggle of youth, looking slightly older than teenagers, some still in uniforms from boardwalk rides, some smoking, most looking intimidating, but when Colson asks them for a light, they seem to get much less hostile.

“Hey are you MGK?” One asks, and when Colson lights the half a joint he had from earlier, he nods. “Sick.” The kid nods sagely, before his gaze turns on you. “And you’re that Booth chick, aren’t you? I’ve seen you on Twitter.” It’s not hostile, it’s genuinely curious.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Eddie, that’s [Y/N], do you live under a rock?” One of the girls pipes up, decked out in black, with a thick piercing through her septum, and an intimidating amount of eyeliner. The boy, Eddie, flushes scarlet, and snaps that not everyone watches the same shit as her. “I’m Samara,” the girl offers with a grin, offering her hand to you, which you shake, more than a little pleased with their various reactions.

“I heard yous was boinking -” a third girl interrupts, wearing a boardwalk uniform and hitting a vape pen pretty hard. 

“Emma!” More than one of them shout, though Samara is the loudest.

“Is boinking still the term?” Colson snorts, taking it all in stride, though he’s got an arm around you now, “Jesus fuck I feel ancient.���

“You are -” Emma interrupts, much to the rest of the group’s chagrin, but Colson just laughs.

“I’m twenty-seven you fucker!” He crows, and Emma cracks a smile, and takes another hit off of her vape pen. “Whatever,” he shrugs, “just tryin’ to show my girl everything LA has to offer.” 

“So you come under the boardwalk?” Eddie asks, with a skepticism that made you all flustered at his insinuations.

“Can you blame us for wanting a bit of privacy?” Colson smirks, to which the group of youths all collectively ‘ooh’ at, and he gives your hip a squeeze. 

“Try the one a quarter of a mile that way,” Samara points further down the beach, “less carnival, less people.” She winks, before adding, surprisingly hopefully, “but could we get like, a photo or something first?” 

Of course you both agree, and among the group photos, you learn that they’re all working around town during winter break for college. Samara specifically asks for a photo with you, where she plants a kiss on your cheek, looking a little flustered herself, muttering a quiet thanks. You follow her back on Instagram, and she gives you this starry-eyed look.

“She’s got a crush on you,” Colson snickers as the two of you head down the beach, well and truly out of earshot of the others, and you smile, finally looking up from your phone, a little endeared at the young woman’s antics. 

“Jealous?” You ask, loftily, and you expect him to laugh, but he goes quiet. When you turn to him, he’s regarding you with amusement, and something else you can’t quite identify. “Colson?” And you slow, now near enough to the next section of the boardwalk. As promised, it was rather secluded. 

After a beat, he leans in and kisses you, soft and unexpected, but his lips fit against yours like you were made for each other. Leaning into him, you wrap your arms around him, letting him pull you close. Not exactly sure what triggered this, you’re just happy to lean into it, enjoying the moment. And then he’s pulling back, forehead resting against yours.

“You see the guy to our left who’s just left the group of kids under the boardwalk? Hawaiian shirt and expensive camera?” He asks quietly, and you glance out of the corner of eye, only to spot the exact person he’s talking about, you make a quiet noise of confirmation, and you keep up the ruse, hand coming up to cup his jaw, butterflies going ballistic in your stomach despite now knowing that it was obviously for show, “been following us for the past hour.”

“Fucking paps,” you hiss, but before your expression can sour, he kisses you again, gives you a squeeze, as if to remind you to put on a show of not noticing him. Much to your surprise, he bites gently at your bottom lip, and you let out a quiet but pleased noise that neither of you had expected, and when he leans back, he looks both surprised and kind of into it, what’s more unexpected is that the exact same expression is written all over your face too.

“Back to the boardwalk, uber back to the hotel?” You ask, resolutely not talking about what had happened, but still smiling and all up in his personal space.

“Love it, let’s get out of here,” and he takes your hand, and leads you back to the safety of the street. It’s the first time the two of you had kissed, not that you’d realised it in the morning, but it was good, you reflect, it felt like it made sense. If you’re a little more giddy than you probably should be on the way back, Colson doesn’t seem to notice, in fact, he’s grinning too, humming to himself.

There’s two posts, one right after the other on Samara’s Instagram story when you check it that night, after having briefly seen it in the uber on the way back to the hotel. 

The first is a video captioned [gross thats my mom and dad] The video was pixelated as hell, and she hadn’t tagged either you or Colson, but you knew it was the two of you, wrapped up in each other, half a mile down the beach. In the background, her friends are arguing about something much closer, though one voice cuts through louder than the rest.

“Hey, Hawaiian shirt hipster paparazzi fuck! Yeah you! Give ‘em some fucking privacy!” And as the voice, who you think is Emma, shouts, Samara turns to focus the camera on the paparazzi Colson had spotted earlier, still incredibly zoomed in, capturing his sheepish, angry expression in all it’s rather pixelated glory.

“Fuck you kids!” He shouts back. Someone throws a can at him.

“Piss off!” Samara shouts, “we know you’re not taking photos of seagulls, cunt!” He goes to respond, but the group just starts chucking things at him. In the background, you can see yourself and Colson heading back up to street level, oblivious to what was going on.

The second post is a screenshot of a set of DMs between yourself and Samara.

@yourinstagramhandle mentioned you in their story

6:28pm

@yourinstagramhandle responded 😍 to your story @yourinstagramhandle: god i fucking love you guys, it was so great to meet you @unholy-samara-tin: 😅😅😅 it was the right thing to do lmao no stress he was a creepy fucker

It’s captioned [HOLY SHIT I’VE DIED AND GONE TO HEAVEN].

You get dinner with Douglas and tell him about your day, and he gives you this sweet, if a little smug smile.

“You seem very happy.” He says, knowingly.

“I am, it was a good day!” You tell him, and he hums, but won’t say anything else on the matter. The conversation is taken up mostly by excitement regarding the makeup and costume fittings that they have over the next week and a half before filming starts, and then it’s back to your own rooms. At your door, Douglas calls out to you, three rooms away.

“It’s strange to see you so grown up, duckling,” he hasn’t called you that in so long, not since you were children, even your mother had abandoned that nickname for the mildly less embarrassing ‘Duck’ in the past few years, and while it warmed your heart, you couldn’t help but tense in anticipation for some sort of gentle, sibling embarrassment, probably to do with you sharing a room with your ‘boyfriend’. 

“And?”

“And nothing,” he shrugged, “never thought you’d become cool is all, a star in your own right, aren’t you?” 

“Of course I’m cool, would you like me to give you some pointers?” You asked sweetly, and Douglas couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“I walked into that one, didn’t I? Anyways, have a good rest of your night, Colson and Dan have gone out drinking.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” you tell him, and the two of you finally go into your separate bedrooms. He’s right, of course, there’s clothes strewn all over the bed, and the shower’s been recently used, and the whole little place has a warm, clean smell, like the last mist of some spiced cologne was still lingering in the air. The only light on is one of the bedside lights, and the lights of the city outside twinkle brightly, though you can’t see many stars for the light pollution. You crack the screen door to the balcony open, and shiver a little, though you tell yourself it’s from the cold, and not because the rather comforting and clean smells were quickly dissipating. 

You are alone when you try to fall asleep on the plush but desperately uncomfortable sofa, alone and struggling to pass out with the bedside light still on, not wanting Colson to have to stumble around in the dark when he gets back. You spend almost a full hour on your phone blocking people who send you nasty DMs, and responding to a few kind ones, and you post a photo of the roof just captioned ‘cant sleep’.

It’s just gone one when the door clicks open, and Colson steps in, pretty well coordinated, and trying to keep quiet. But then there’s you, staring back at him in the lamp light.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” 

Awkward silence.

“Why are you on the sofa?” He asks, hauling his bag from the bed, shoving his loose clothes in haphazardly, before patting down his pockets. “Sorry if I woke you,” it’s almost an afterthought, and he pulls out a box of cigarettes.

“You didn’t,” you tell him with a yawn that says otherwise, but you power through it, “and I didn’t want to intrude.”

He casts a dubious glance at how you’re angled on the sofa, but doesn’t say anything, and opens the sliding door wider to sit on the porch and have his cigarette. Without even hesitating, you join him, and your spine thanks you the moment you stand.

“Nice night?” You ask, sitting out on the balcony with him.

“Nice night,” he agrees, adding, “nice day all around.” And something about it makes your heart flutter. “You know you can take the bed; I’d rather sleep on the floor than have you get scoliosis.”

“I don’t think that’s how scoliosis works,” you say with a huff of laughter, but he just hums, “and you don’t need to do that, I’m fine,” you try to insist.

“You know you’re welcome to just share the bed, it’s fucking massive, I feel like I’ll get lost in it,” he actually yawns, takes another drag of his cigarette. 

“So you want me to, what, ground you somehow?”

“I just wanna know that if I roll over in the night and there’s something solid there, that it’s your arm and not like, the lightpost in fuckin’ Narnia,” he tells you, and breathes out a lung full of smoke. You watch it hang in the air, pale and silver in the light of the moon. 

“We’re gonna be in the tabloids tomorrow,” you tell him quietly.

“No-one reads tabloids anymore, we’re gonna be on like, those snapchat news things,” he says, and laughs but it doesn’t sound very amused. “Have you been getting less shit?”

“Actually,” you consider, “yeah, most of your fans are mad supportive when you ask them to be. What about you?”

“Your fans are cute, you know that? I was scrolling through twitter and I saw a whole bunch of photos of us like, photoshopped together,” he paused to chuckle, “some had flower crowns.” You can hear the smile in his words, and he seems quite enamored by the phenomenon. It’s a nice moment; he’s drunk and a little high and you’re exhausted, and you fall into bed like it’s a sitcom.

“Tell your spine I said ‘you’re fucking welcome’,” he tells you, and it’s so absurd that you laugh, even as you pull the covers up over you and snuggle in, comfortable as all hell, before turning the light off.

Then, there’s movement, and a loud ‘thwap’ as Colson’s hand comes to knock your shoulder, landing on top of the duvet. 

“Narnia?” He asks, and you give a small smile in the dark.

“Just me.”

You wake in the morning to the sound of Colson’s alarm, or more accurately, his groaning at his alarm. And swearing. And muttered ‘fucking makeup tests’. 

He’s dragging himself into the shower while you relish your days off, nose and eyes peaking out from the covers when he comes out of the shower wrapped in a towel. The two of you make direct eye contact before you mutter a flustered apology and flip away from him, though he doesn’t seem to know how to react, just quietly getting dressed. The rest of his morning routine passes mostly in silence, before you hear him open the door.

“If you wanna get like, lunch or dinner or something, lemme know, or I’ll let you know if the boys are organising something,” he tells you, and you call out a sleepy thanks in response. The door closes. Silence. You could go back to sleep, but you’re curious about the turn around time for paparazzi media, and you were not disappointed.

MTV’s snapchat story posted “MGK and New Boo [Y/N] Booth Caught Getting Steamy Under the Boardwalk” the headline.

The self-proclaimed ‘Rap Devil’ Machine Gun Kelly, best known for his album bloom, has managed to find himself locking lips with YouTube’s darling [Y/N] Booth, though you may know her best as the vlogger, and entertainment industry insider, DuckDuckBooth.

It seems new media’s hottest couple have finally landed in LA after their surprising hookup in Louisiana, set to continue working on some mysterious project that they keep hinting at, and they seem to still be going strong!

The pair were caught after a cute date along the Hollywood seaside - 

[And here they’d entered your Instagram story, from the Tunnel of Love, as well as Colson’s Twitter picture of you with the fairy floss.]

- after meeting a group of fans, they found somewhere a little more private to get a little bit romantic in a way that 90s kids truly will appreciate; making out under a boardwalk. It feels like it should be ripped straight from a John Hughes movie set in Hollywood.

However unlikely this pair may be, you can’t deny that they’re cute together.

[And here’s those traitorous, and almost painfully HD photos of yourself and Colson, wrapped up in each other, that the paparazzi had taken the day before, though with the legs of the boardwalk, as well as the ocean and the sunset as your backdrop, the photos themselves are surprisingly stunning.]

“Fucking paps,” you mutter under your breath, and screenshot the photo anyways. If it’s your lock screen, well, it’s what any real girlfriend would do, right?

[matth1w]

I Won’t Say - Chapter 1

(Gif Credit)

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Summary: You and Obi-Wan stand on the edge of something more than friendship. With Anakin in your ear and a special gift from Obi-Wan, will you finally admit your feelings?

Warnings: Typical slow burn angst

Rating: Everyone

Word Count: 2,837 words

Note: I took some liberties and I’m not an expert in Star Wars so apologies in advance if any terminology or anything is incorrect.

For: my dear friend @commander-writergirl’s #800CelebrationChallenge / I chose the song prompt I Won’t Say (I’m In Love) from Hercules

A soft knock on your door stirred you out of the book you had been reading. The climatic scene was unfolding between two classical lovers who were finally professing their undying love for one another. If you couldn’t live out your desires, you could at least read about them.

“Come in!” you announced as you shut the book and shifted in your chair. You knew it could only be a handful of people at this time, even less being so polite as to knock (looking at you, Anakin Skywalker).

You didn’t try to contain the joy on your face when Obi-Wan stepped through the door. You quickly stood and rushed to embrace him. Something you only felt certain enough to do after long or dangerous missions and in private places.

Obi-Wan chuckled underneath your touch as he wrapped one arm around your waist, the sound coming from deep within his chest.

“Careful, my dear.” He murmured in his low comforting voice against your hair.

You pulled back, letting your hand rest on his arm as you examined his face.

“Are you hurt?”

This brought another sparkling laugh from Obi-Wan.

“No, no. I’m perfectly fine.” He explained with a wry smile, “I just didn’t want you to crush your present.”

Your face lit up at the mention of a present and a slight blush rose up your cheeks.

Obi-Wan smiled at you as he moved the arm that was behind his back and held a small potted plant in front of him. It was a trio of small, delicate white flowers adorned with smatterings of blue and purple.

“It’s beautiful!” You whispered in adoration and genuine surprise. You had never seen a flower like it. And it of course meant that much more coming from your favorite Jedi.

Had you not been so enamored by the floral gift, you would have flinched at the electricity that ran through you as your fingers brushed against Obi-Wan’s as you accepted the present.

“Do you like it?” Obi-Wan mused. You looked up at his affectionate eyes that had been examining your reaction and giggled.

“Of course I do!” You admonished, but it was without malice as you truly loved the easy teasing between you two.

Obi-Wan moved to stroke his beard as he nodded, trying to maintain a semblance of control over his facial expressions and busy his hands that yearned to reach out and touch you.

He cleared his throat, trying to rid his head of distracting thoughts.

“It’s a unique thing. It’s called an Evening Primrose. It opens up during the nighttime then shuts when the sun rises.”

You examined the flower curiously, turning it in your hands. You had never heard of such a thing. You wondered for a moment if it had medicinal uses.

“To be quite honest, when I saw it, I couldn’t help but think of you, my little night owl.”

Your head shot up and you were certainly blushing at the nickname. Obi-Wan had never called you anything like that before, and certainly never looked at you with such tenderness either.

You tore your eyes away, looking down to the flower below. And in a desperate attempt to maintain the light atmosphere, rather than delve into anything that could be perilous, you returned once more to light hearted banter.

“Not everyone can be as early a riser like you, Obi-Wan.” Your lips curled into a content, albeit secretly saddened smile and his soon matched yours at the surface.

“But then who would bring you breakfast when you sleep in?” Obi joked back and you had to laugh at that, the tension easing from your body.

“I would say Anakin but I know he struggles as much as I do most days.”

Obi-Wan sighed at that and once again brought his hand to his chin.

“Yes, he’s become much less strict about his morning meditation since he’s become a Knight.”

“It’s not the worst thing in the world.” You chided. “You should try it sometime, you might like it.”

The unintentional double meaning behind your words made Obi’s smile turn upside down for a fraction of a second, it would not have been noticeable if you weren’t so close to him or had known him for so long.

The room became silent for a moment as you struggled with what you should say and Obi-Wan seemed to do the same.

You met his eyes hesitantly and lifted the potted primrose up.

“Thank you for the gift, Obi. It was very thoughtful of you.”

He smiled, that soft, melancholic smile that never reached his eyes that appeared often during moments like this.

“Of course.”, he said quietly, his voice low and weak.

Fearing nothing was left to say than things neither of you were ready to speak aloud, he nodded.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He reached his hand out to rest on your shoulder and smiled more genuinely and lightly this time. The familiar sparkle of lighthearted teasing covering the misery brewing within them.

“I’ll need to get my rest if I’m to wake up before you. Though I suppose it won’t be too hard.”

He tauntingly grinned at you and you rolled your eyes, trying to focus on anything but his light touch and the unspoken words and emotions that desperately tried to surface around you.

“Goodnight, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan nodded with a gentlemanly smile and bowed before he turned on his feet and exited your room.

In the quiet air, your fingers caressed the smooth terra-cotta underneath them as you brought the flower up to your nose to take in its sweet aroma.

—————

The soft chimes of your alarm stirred you from your slumber. It had been peaceful and calm night of rest, taking away your worries and repeating thoughts and replacing them with lovers dreams.

You shifted onto your side, admiring the now closed flowers. They were a beautiful sight to behold, even now, and one you could get used to seeing each time you opened your eyes.

Your heart pained at how you would much rather see a different view each morning, a pair of light blue eyes, but you fervently pushed the image away.

—————

Today had been a slow day in the medical bay, the hours crept on like thick mud. Thankfully, the evening and end of your shift were finally arriving as you thrummed your fingers on the table beside you. You had finished your rounds on the longer term patients and just finished typing up your last report on your datapad.

You heard one of your coworkers call your name. They didn’t sound panicked, moreso tired and annoyed so you didn’t worry but walked their way nonetheless.

When you reach the front of the wing, you saw Anakin standing with a mischievous smile alongside your much less energized coworker.

A slight tinge of pity hit you, Denoto, the veteran medical assistant had been there for nearly 12 hours today. You glanced at your watch to check the time. There were only a few minutes left in your shifts and the new wave had already arrived.

“You can go, Denoto,” you notified him with a smile that hopefully had seemed compassionate. You two didn’t much get along and you knew he envied your position as Head Medic.

The man gave a curt nod in response and walked past Anakin without a second look.

You rolled your eyes at the grumpy old man with Anakin and turned around.

“Come on,” you waved him back and heard him quickly follow, his boots sharp on the hardened floor.

Anakin cleared his throat as he caught up to walk in line with you.

“I got a bit scratched up on our mission. I think it’s fine...” his voice lowered as he leaned in with a sly smile, “but Padme insisted you check it.”

You smiled back, “She’s typically right. Let me see.” You had reached your destination and patted the bed beside you for him to hop up on.

He lifted his sleeve to reveal a minor wound on his shoulder. It was nothing to be worried about, but it could use some cleaning as it looked like it hadn’t been cleaned properly.

It wouldn’t surprise you, Anakin was reckless and once countered your reprimands with the claim that if he tended to his own wounds, you wouldn’t get to see him as often.

You settled into the familiar process and Anakin leaned back and closed his eyes. You didn’t mind, the silence was comfortable due to your strong friendship.

“So,” his voice broke the silence, mischief apparent in the one word alone.

You looked up to see him looking at you with those interrogating eyes and you turned around to pull out a bacta pad from the drawer behind you. You had a feeling you knew what he wanted to talk about.

“Did Obi-Wan give you your gift?” His voice was playful and teasing, like only a best friend’s could.

You blushed as you turned back around, even though you willed your face and emotions to stay neutral and didn’t meet his eyes, though you could feel them practically burning a hole in you.

He chuckled, “I take that as a yes.”

Your eyes flitted to his momentarily then back at the wound. You knew Anakin wouldn’t leave well enough alone so you gave in with a sigh.

“Yes he did. I assume you had a role in it?”

You poked him with your finger, outside his wound but he still flinched as it tickled him slightly, a satisfied smile blossoming on your lips.

His signature troublemaker smile came back slowly, like he was relishing in the moment.

“Actually, no. The first I knew of it was when we were boarding the ship back.”

You blushed at that. It was harder to dismiss the gift as simply your friend’s meddling if he had no part in it.

You silently took off your gloves, standing to dispose of them in the bin, and patted Anakin’s covered shoulder. You didn’t want to think too much about it. And certainly didn’t want to hear any more of Anakin’s thoughts on the matter.

“Just a small infection.” You were pleased with the neutrality of your voice.

“Come back tomorrow to get fresh gauze. But otherwise, no one needs to worry about you.” Your voice and eyes softened as you finished.

He smiled gratefully, thankful for your abilities and confidence.

“Thank you.”

Anakin took your hand and looked seriously at you a moment before speaking in a hushed tone.

“Obi-Wan cares about you, you know.”

“Of course he does,” you sighed as you softly pulled your hand away and fidgeted with the roll of gauze you were packing away. “But no more than he cares about you or Ashoka. He probably is only kind because I tend to his injuries and don’t get all starry eyed around him or the other Jedi.”

“But...” he interjected.

“He’s a friend, Anakin. Nothing more.” Your voice grew stronger, more stubborn.

“Not like you...” you lowered your voice before your continued. “... and Padme.”

Anakin shook his head in exasperation and scoffed quietly.

“Whatever you say, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

His playful smile returned and you knew there were no hard feelings between you two.

“You better!” You chastised as you playfully swatted him.

A laugh is shared between you two before Anakin bows out and you’re left with your own spiraling thoughts, trying to decipher the meaning of Obi-Wan’s gift.

—————

You had tried to sleep, a bit earlier than usual but you couldn’t stop admiring the primrose on the windowsill. One of your perks of your role as head medic was that you had a corner room that was tucked away down a long hall and had a small window.

The flowers nearly glowed in the soft moonlight, and you couldn’t help but be taken with the beautiful, unique flowers. But also, more truly, what they represented.

A gift from Obi-Wan.

It wasn’t the first but certainly the most thoughtful, more-so now that you knew he brought it to you without any heavy-handed suggestion from Anakin.

You had to admit you were a bit disappointed that you hadn’t seen him today. You cursed yourself for the silly notion. You had just seen him yesterday. Although, it had been brief, and you wanted to hear more about his mission.

Yes, that was why you were disappointed. You wanted to hear about the mission. You laughed bitterly at the lie you were telling yourself and pictured Anakin calling you out on it if he was here.

A bit frustrated and knowing sleep wouldn’t come to you just yet, you sighed and swung your legs over the side of the bed. You stared at the flower a few minutes more before you decided to stretch your legs.

You didn’t know much about how to care for the flower but you thought the soil could give you a clue. Shuffling over to the pot, you determined it was watered enough. But the shine of the flower entranced you once more and you allowed yourself to daydream for just a moment.

You imagined planting it in the small garden in your backyard. You would tend to it and the other flowers and plants while Obi-Wan sat by the small pond meditating or reading.

You two would share lunches outside in the garden when the weather permitted and there would be a bench upon which you both could sit. And as the moon rose and the primrose bloomed, you would admire the stars, Obi pointing out which planets were which and telling you stories about the ones he had visited.

You blinked, the yearning pain in your heart bringing you back to reality. You felt incredibly foolish. Not only because Obi-Wan would never leave the Order for you but also because you knew that dreams that felt so good when they start out would eventually twist into nightmares and you would end up crying your heart out once more.

You had thought about sharing that ideal life with another a long time ago, when you had just finished your training and were stationed at a small hospital. He had been a kind man, another medic who had been on a different team but would always come around for talk whenever your schedules allowed. He was in a terrible accident one day and you stayed by his side through it all.

You scoffed internally as anger bubbled inside you, if there was a prize for rotten judgment, you would’ve won it. He played you like a fool. Once he was healed and regained his life, he left you, cold and alone for another.

You swore off love for a long time, determined that no man was worth the aggravation, the heartache, or time.

But then you became a medic here. And you met Obi-Wan. How twisted of fate to make you open your heart again for someone who could never truly be yours.

Who do you think you’re kidding? He’s the earth and heaven to you. No matter how hard you tried keep it hidden or conceal it, it was plain as day, you were in love. Anakin assured you as much. And mind reading or not, you were certain Obi-Wan himself knew.

You sighed, you hated acknowledging the truth of your feelings, and that... you loved him. But you would never speak it aloud. Not even in the confines of your room, alone and hidden in the darkness.

Plus, you thought your heart had learned its lesson. Your head was screaming for you to get a grip, reminding you of how you had cried your heart out for weeks over failed love before.

This back and forth was so tiring. You should just face it like a grown woman. Tell Obi-Wan your feelings and then leave if, no when, he says it can’t be.

No chance or way you’re doing that. Throwing out your career and friendships. You won’t say it. You can’t say it.

But your heart tempted you with images about how things could end up if you gave up and gave into your feelings. You stopped yourself as much as it hurt, that scene won’t play.

You imagined if Anakin and Padme were here now as your heart and mind fight amongst themselves.

They would say you’re in love, you’d tell them they’re way off base and try to get them off your case, but in turn they’d just tell you you don’t need to be proud, that it’s okay you’re in love. You smiled at the antics you were sure would happen.

A strong wave of sleep washed over you as you made your way back to your bed. You happily gave in as you laid your blanket atop your body, hoping to at least live out your fantasy in your dreams.

As you drifted to sleep, you promised yourself something.

You wouldn’t say you were in love...

At least out loud.

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Little Secrets

for @nightimedreamersworld from the prompt list and tags you posted. Thanks to @ninemagicks for leading the way. 

From a tumblr prompt list by @mraculous and sent to the Carry On fandom by @nightimedreamersworld : ‘a mutual friend tried to introduce us, but we already knew each other from LARPing but we’re both too embarrassed to admit that so I jokingly said we used to date and oh god now our friend won’t stop interrogating us about it’ AU

Little Secrets, a Snowbaz LARPing AU (2774 words)

Simon

“Do you want to come over Friday? I can order in curry and I’ll even watch that Netflix thing you’re obsessed with, if you like,” Penny says, before taking another bite of her sandwich. I’ve already finished mine but I take the chance to steal one of her crisps. She never finishes them. I hate seeing them go to waste.

No one should ever bin salt and vinegar crisps. It’s a crime against humanity.  

It’s been harder to coordinate our schedules this term. Even meeting for lunch is a treat. We’ve not had a night in for weeks. It’s not as easy, now that we don’t live together.  

And it’s not often that Penny offers to let me decide what we watch. Says she’s got standards and I watch too much “brain numbing rot.”

Castlevania is not rot. It’s fucking brilliant. My costume for this campaign is based on Trevor Belmont. It’s wicked good.  

I’m gutted to have to turn her down though. Friday’s going to have to be a no. We’ve been gearing up for this campaign for weeks and I can’t miss it.  

“I’m sorry. I can’t Friday.”

Penny looks at me over the top of her glasses. “Why not?”

She doesn’t know about this. About the LARP club I joined. It’s something I started doing over the summer, when she was away in India with her family.  

I was bored. And lonely.

I don’t know why I haven’t mentioned it. It’s not that I’m embarrassed about it. I’m not. It’s a hell of a lot of fun swinging a sword around and taking part in campaigns. Even the costume workshops are entertaining.  

Everyone’s so friendly. Well, most of them are, at any rate.

Penny tends to frown upon things like this. Things that don’t serve a purpose. Making new friends doesn’t count as serving a purpose. She’s told me more than once that having too many friends is an unnecessary burden. “There’s only so many hours in a day, Simon. Two, three people, that’s all any of us have time for.”  

That’s all Penny has time for. I’m lucky to be one of her three people.  

Telling her I’m spending two nights a week LARPing with near strangers while dressed as a medieval monster hunter likely won’t go over too well.  

Especially as that amounts to two nights a week I’m not doing my coursework or revising. Sacrilege.  

“Uh. I’ve got . . . uh, there’s a study group.”  

“On a Friday night?” Her eyes widen.  

“Yes.” The shorter the answer the better with Penny. I can’t get caught in a lie if I’m barely saying anything.

“For which class?”

Fuck it all. I can feel my leg starting to jiggle. She’ll know the gig is up if I don’t answer soon.  

“Medieval Literature.” Thank fuck I’m actually taking that class this semester or she’d be onto me.  

It’s not that far off, anyway. Most of the costumes qualify as Medieval.

“Dedicated lot.”

“Quite.”

“It’s good to see you being so devoted to your studies, Simon, what with applications for graduate programs coming up.”

As if I needed the reminder.

“Maybe we can try to find some time next week, then.”

“That’d be great.” I reach out to steal another crisp. She smacks my hand away. “I do miss you, Pen.”

Penny pushes the bag of crisps over to me with a sigh, but she’s smiling. “I miss you too, Si.”

It’s not until the next week that we manage to make plans. And it’s not for curry and Netflix.

We’re at Foyles, having spent the last hour listening to one of Penny’s favorite poets do a reading and a Q & A. Penny’s dead gone for Nikita Gill. I thought it was mostly because she’s a femininst and Indian but I see the point, now that I’ve heard her read from her latest book. She’s brilliant.

Penny’s in line to get her book signed and I’m just sort of shuffling along with her, feeling like a bit of a tit, seeing as I’ve not got a book myself.

Should I? I feel I ought to at least have something, but it’s too late now, we’re almost to the signing table.

Predictably, Penny gets into an intense conversation with the author while I stand there, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably and nodding every so often. The store clerk finally gets Penny to shove off. She drags it out for another minute and then we’re finally clear of that scene.

I’m ready to head to the pub for a bite, but Penny stops down the line to talk to someone from her seminar and I’m left at loose ends again. It’s mostly uni types in the crowd, nearly all of them intense and bright eyed as they talk over each other now and indulge in some excitable hand waving. There’re a few blokes here and there, moody looking types with man-buns, horn rimmed glasses, and oversized jumpers. I recognize one or two from my classes but no one I know well.

Penny stops to talk to another person and I’m in despair over dinner. I wander over to a book display and idly flip through some paperbacks as I wait for her. Thankfully it’s not more than a few minutes later when I hear her call out to me. “Simon!”

I trot over, more than ready to make a run for the pub but her first words aren’t “let’s get out of here.”

“Si, I want you to meet my friend.”

Oh, fuck. We’re never going to get to the pub at this rate. I plaster a smile on my face and turn to say ‘ hello’ to whoever it is Penny is bound and determined to have me meet.

And I freeze.

“This is Baz. He’s in my Modern British Poets seminar and he’s almost as keen about vampire lore as you are.”

I raise my eyes and meet Baz’s cool stare, that one eyebrow of his arched as he meets my gaze.

Fuck. I don’t need to be introduced to Baz. I know Baz. He’s the Mage in our campaign. He’s a fucking ruthless one too, dead brill with his spells, even though he’s a bit shit when he’s got to do any swordwork.

That was my main job on the summer campaign--give him cover so he could cast his spells and decipher his runes and whatever else it is that Mages do.

I’m front line offense now--cut down anyone in my path, long before they can get near the rest of our party. It’s up to Gareth and Niall to have Baz’s back this time around.

I can’t very well pretend I don’t know him, but I really don’t want to be explaining that I’m in a LARP club to Penny in the middle of this bookstore, not in front of Baz.

Fuck.

I give Baz a pleading look which I’m sure only confuses him, based on the way his eyebrow arches up even more. I don’t know how to convey “don’t tell Penny you know me from the Dragonknight campaign” with just my eyes.

“I’m well acquainted with Simon, Bunce.”

I am well and truly fucked.

“You two know each other?” Penny gives me a penetrating look.

Baz keeps talking. “Yes, we’ve been--” but I interrupt him before he can say anything more.

“He’s my ex.”

I have literally no idea why I said that. And there’s no taking it back, now that it’s out there.

Two sets of eyes goggle at me, both of Baz’s eyebrows reaching for his hairline now. Penny looks scandalized.

“Your what?” she asks.

“My ex-boyfriend,” I clarify, literally begging Baz to go along with this with my eyes. I probably look like a gormless twat. Just go along with it, I try to broadcast that thought across the two feet of space between us.

“Your ex-boyfriend,” Penny says flatly. “How do I not know about this, Simon?”

Baz looks just as curious, but thank Christ he doesn’t say anything.

“Oh, you now, summer romance, short-lived fling, gone but not forgotten.” I’m literally babbling.

“Very short lived,” Baz says drily. “So short lived I’d be surprised if he had mentioned it, Bunce.” He’s smirking, the smug bastard. Arms crossed over his chest, that one fucking eyebrow mocking me now.

“Yes, ah, you know, summer.”

“I’d say I don’t know at all, Simon.” Penny’s looking between us, a suspicious look on her face. “Why don’t you fill me in. I’d love to hear about my best friend and my study partner getting together and me being none the wiser.”

Baz is full on grinning now. “Yes, why don’t you tell her, Simon? Unless you’d rather I did?”

I think the fuck not.

“Ah. Well. You know we met  . . . ah . . . at the library.”

“What on earth were you doing at the library?”

What the fuck was I doing at the library? I never go to the library and Penny knows that.

Fuck.

“Wasn’t that when your laptop was being wonky?” Baz chimes in.

I scowl at him. Only one of us needs to be fabricating this tale and that someone is me.

“At least that’s what I remember you saying, when you came in that night.”

Bloody hell.

“Uh, yeah. That’s what it was. Had to come in and do a lit search on premises.”

“It’s a good thing I was working the desk that night,” Baz says, uncrossing his arms and sliding his hands into his jeans pockets.

My eyes follow his hands down and keep going.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Baz in jeans before. Tunics? Yes. Majestic robes? Yes.

Elegant, fitted jeans that are snug all the right spots? Well, I’d remember seeing that before, is all I’m saying.

I drag my eyes back up to his face. “Uh, yes, um, good thing.”

I didn’t know he worked at the library.

“Simon came in, just before closing time, with the idea that he was going to do a search and print it all out in mere minutes.” He’s really warming to the subject and I’ve lost control of this whole situation.

“Typical,” Penny says and I’m outraged.

“What?” I sputter.

She nods her head at Baz. “He gave you those puppy dog eyes and that crooked little smile of his, didn't he?”

“Now, see here, I’m the one telling the story and–”

But Baz steamrolls right over me. “Oh, you know he did, Bunce.” He gives me a fond look that makes my face heat up.

What’s he playing at? I rub at the back of my neck, feel the clammy sweat starting to form there.

“Got you to do the whole thing for him, didn’t he?”

This is pure slander. I’m not going to stand for this.

“I couldn’t resist his roguish charm.”

“Listen, now--”

Baz just keeps talking. “I had no idea he was such a shameless flirt.” He shakes his head at me and actually manages to look almost mournful, the lying bastard. “Charmed me, wined me, dined me. But once his laptop was functional and the research project complete, just a few short weeks later, he dumped me without a second thought.”

“Simon!” Penny’s glaring at me now. She’s bought his whole fabrication and I’ve got no one but myself to blame for this farce.

“Just wait a bloody minute!” I yelp.

Baz hunches his shoulders and lowers his head. “By text, no less.”

“Really, Simon, how could you?” Penny’s all righteous indignation, her hand coming to rest on Baz’s arm, eyes blazing as she rakes her gaze over me. “I go away for a few weeks and you not only manage to seduce my friend but then unceremoniously dump him by text? You know better than that. You were a bloody wreck when Agatha did that to you!”

And now she’s airing my entire sordid dating history to Baz in the middle of a bloody Foyles on a Thursday night and I’ve not even had dinner. This takes the biscuit, I swear to god.

“Penny, listen, it was nothing like that, really, I swear.”

She’s got her arms crossed over her chest. “Then how was it, Simon?” Cold as ice. You’d think Baz was her best friend and confidant, not me.

This is a fucking disaster. I’d have been better off telling her about the LARPing.

I am going to tell her about the LARPing. It’s the only way out of this mess.

“Listen, Pen, I’m sorry. I thought you’d be upset I was wasting my time--”

“Wasting your time?” Baz interrupts. “Is that what you’re calling our two weeks, then?”

“That’s not what I meant!” I’m going to let a berserker just go by me and wreck Baz this week, I swear I am. Won’t even brandish my sword at him, I’ll just point him in Baz’s direction. It’d serve the bastard right. “Listen, Penny, I was going to tell you, but I was a bit embarrassed--”

“As well you should be, the way you behaved.” Penny interrupts me this time and I have reached my fucking limit.

“Would the two of you let me finish one bloody sentence?”

Two expectant faces meet mine but I swear there’s a glint in Baz’s eyes and his lips quirk like he’s trying to keep himself from laughing. Arsehole. I may go after him myself this week, if he’s not careful. Go rogue. It’d be worth it, just to wipe the smug look off his face.

He’s got his hair down tonight. I don’t know why I didn’t notice that earlier. He’s usually got it up when we’re–fucking hell, why am I thinking about his hair right now?

“Ok, so let me finish what I’ve got to say or I swear to Christ I am going to go off.” Baz inclines his head and waves a hand at me in a ‘have at it’ gesture. Penny frowns but holds her tongue. “So, while you were gone this summer I got a bit caught up in LARPing.”

“You did what?” Penny asks.

“LARPing. Live action role play.”

“Whatever for?”

“I don’t know. For something to do.”

“And why are you telling me this now?”

I pull at my hair and groan. “Because that’s how I met Baz. He’s not my ex. I’ve never gone out with him. I just made that all up, rather than tell you about the whole LARP business.”

“Why on earth would you concoct all that nonsense, Simon?” Penny’s looking completely perplexed but Baz has this cheeky grin, the absolute wanker.

He’s got a dimple in his left cheek.

Fuck.

“Because I thought you’d be irritated. It’s not something that serves a purpose.”

“Why would I care what you do with your free time?”

Oh my fucking god.

I give my hair another yank. “Aren’t you always telling me I should spend more time on my studies? Keep my social life a bit more contained?”

Penny has the audacity to shrug. “I’m not your keeper. If you need to swing a sword around to let off some steam, far be it from me to argue.”

She turns to Baz and smacks him on the arm. “What were you thinking, going along with all this nonsense of his tonight? I’d not expect that kind of foolishness from you, Baz.”

Baz leans against a bookshelf and flashes her a grin. “Let’s just say my curiosity was piqued, when he threw that ex comment out there. And you know how I love to spin a good story, Bunce. He certainly wasn’t going to pull one over on you by himself.” His eyes light on me and there’s something smouldering in the depths of them. Something I’d like to get a closer look at.

“Well, you’re ridiculous, the both of you,” Penny says. “You deserve each other, honestly.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, I’m starved. It’s past time we went to dinner.”  

“Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Baz’s eyes never leave mine. “I’ll see you Friday then, Snow?”

He used my LARPing alias.

I liked it better when he was calling me Simon.

Penny hooks her arm around his. “Come join us, Baz. Since you and Simon already know each other so well.”

He adjusts his book bag on his shoulder. “I suppose I could do with some dinner.”

Penny keeps her hold on his arm and leans back to look at me behind Baz’s back.

And then she winks.

I think I’m the one that’s been played.

And when Baz’s knee knocks into mine as he squeezes into our booth at the pub I realise I don’t mind one bit.

also on ao3 Little Secrets

[nomadmilk]

Why the God Isn’t Bored on Midgard - Loki x F!Reader Drabble - 7

Summary: With Ragnarok decimating Asgard, Thor and Loki and their people return to Earth searching for refuge. Everyone else has seemed to settle, except for Loki - the God of Mischief and Chaos - who isn’t willing to live the domesticated Midgard life, and getting utterly bored out of his mind... Until he discovered you.

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Rated M/18+. The return of the jerk ex. Mentions of sex, and sex things.

Author’s Note: I’m stuck inside reading, playing Animal Crossing, and writing this :) Let me know what you think, and enjoy <3 Hoping to get more parts up soon!

Here are the other parts to the series: Part 1     Part 2 Part 3     Part 4 Part 5     Part 6 Part 7     Part 8 (First Half)     Part 8.5 (Second Half) Part 9

It seemed like you hadn’t come to terms as to what happened at Stark’s party. Loki assumed you were too stubborn and shy to actually say anything, and resorted to your usual plan in being distracted; working.

You did the tasks; helping women with recommending lingerie, funny gifts that might actually get the ball rolling for couples, and even did the boring stuff like keeping count of stock and if there was anything that needed to be delivered. You were even able to talk and gossip with your new colleagues. Over folding and hanging pieces and products, you talked briefly about past work employers, a little about family, and little specs of each other’s lives. You admit, you don’t say much, probably because you’re still the new kid in the store, but you listen intently as you and a colleague stack some new boxed lube on a shelf.

“So, I actually tried this with my boyfriend.” She says, inspecting the box before placing it on the row you had made. “And, oh my god, it does wonders. You have no idea how big he is.”

Your eyebrows raise as you nod along. It wasn’t what you were expecting on hearing. Although, it didn’t make you startled in any way; you had just been dealing with a guy who wanted to know what gag was best with a unicorn outfit.

“I mean, they say size doesn’t matter – like, yeah, I totally agree. “ She continues. “But it’s like they took the Karma Sutra, and somehow made it a thousand times better… I mean, technically they’re, like, thousands of years old, so they must have had the reading and practice-”

“Or they were really bored.” You chime, nervous about the jokey input. The colleague chuckles.

The shift wasn’t too bad at all-

“Wait.” You say, stopping your hands and turning to her. “You-… Asgardian?”

“Yeah, my boyfriend’s Asgardian.”

“And you said he-“

“Yes. They all have big dicks.”

-----

“Uh. Who the hell are you?”

Loki has had his fair share of ugly welcomes, and he also had his fair share of countering them. The temptation to do so was high, but Loki moves the conversation along. “Can I help you?”

The Prince stares t the stranger, who is in the meantime, blinking at his stature. It seemed like he wasn’t expecting Loki at all to answer the door, so Loki had to assume he was looking for someone else.

He prompts him again. “Are you looking for someone in particular?”

“Yeah, uh, Y/N?” The man blunders. “Does she still live here?”

“I’m sorry, but she’s not here at the moment.” Loki answers, assessing the man’s language. “Can I pass on a message?”

The man completely ignores the offer. “She said there’s a box of my stuff left over. Can I come in?”

Hesitant in a reply and beginning to glare, Loki wasn’t comfortable with his presence at all. Here he was in the apartment, head buried in books and student papers, until this guy comes along and bombards the serenity of it.

Over a box of stuff.

You never said there was going to be a visitor today. To be honest, you hadn’t spoken to Loki since Tony Stark’s party. He smirks to himself; with your job occupying all of your time, you must be pent up more than ever.

“Listen, I’ll just grab it and go, is that alright?” The man says, hurriedly this time.

Loki opens the door wider, and the man immediately steps into the flat. As he closed the door, he turns around to see the man in awe of the room. “When’d she renovate this place?”

“Since I moved in.” Loki proceeds to your room to pick up said box, passing the man by. “You said-“

He grabs Loki by the arm. Loki stills. For a second, the god almost relinquishes a blade into hi hand, but he stops himself. If this guy ended up in the news as  murder victim, Fury would be breathing down his neck constantly. And he’d have to wish his little bit of freedom and sanctuary gone.

Loki sighs; it was a reflex. He didn’t know why he needed a weapon to maim a human when he can actually just use his strength or cunning to actually do more so. But the extra threat made it guarantee that the man didn’t retaliate.

Not that the guy stood a chance.

On the other hand, Loki didn’t know why he felt a little agitated by this stranger.

“Who are you?” His grip was not loosening. “Are you sleeping with her?”

“I’m just someone who lives with her.” Loki says, the reply is satisfactory enough for Loki’s arm to be returned. His jaw clenches; this guy was too curious. “You never introduced yourself either.”

“Just someone concerned about her well-being.” He squares Loki, not reaching the same height, though. “Wait a minute… Your voice… She was with you…”

Loki surveys him, the man’s expression changing. What was he talking about? Was he a spy? A stalker? It was difficult to read him because Loki had little to work on. All he could pinpoint was that anything related to you, or just you, were definitely his buttons to push. You’ve never mentioned this man at any point in your interactions. The only man Loki had heard, who he had never met, who you barely noted upon was-

Then it struck him; it was if you were here to slap him. Again.

So, this was the so-called Ex? The guy phoning you at Stark’s party.

“You were with her that night.” The Ex resumes. It seems like he’s making a few revelations in his head as well. “What were you doing with her?”

It was like spite and pride had invited themselves to spread the smile onto Loki’s face. And before he could get a word in play, you had entered the apartment.

You promptly recognise The Ex in your home, and Loki steps back as your face crumples in confusion and ferocity. And he knew the next few minutes was going to be better than what he had originally planned.

You weren’t hiding your disbelief of your Ex just barging into your place, and you unleashed your rage by interrogating on why he was here in the first place. Although, The Ex, battling against you, stood no match against you.

As the scene plays out, it reminds him of when he saw you in the apartment for the first time… Your anger was volatile when it was pushed, and maybe that’s why Loki has never tested it, even though the allurement to mess with you some more was attractive.

Your eyes are fierce, and your cheeks have that glowering complexion that made Loki freeze in an unnatural way.

“Get out.” You demand, pointing to the open door.

“You’re not serious?” The Ex fumes. “And really? Him? Who the hell is he?”

“What? He’s just-“

“Oh! You’re really oblivious, y’know! You don’t even recognise it! You never fucking do!” The Ex stomps towards the exit.

“You never noticed anything I did!” You yell some more. “And I finally fucking realise that!”

The door slams shut.

Loki lets you breathe for a minute. You slip off your heels, easily coming off due to your stockings. You remove your jacket, and hang your handbag along with it.

You lock eyes with him, and for some reason Loki is left breathless by the sight of you; as you take off the band that made your ponytail, your hair beautifully flows and frames your face. Your uniform was an ill-fitting polo shirt and skirt, but it accompanied your body charmingly.

However, whilst Loki was staring at you, awaiting a word or for you to just walk by, you were looking at him back.

Although, when he was checking where your irises were wondering, they seemed to be… They seemed to be looking low… It looks like you were looking low at his…

“Sorry you had to see that.” You utter suddenly, eyes darting away. Your cheeks fade from the glower in replacement of a pink hue. You exhale. “This day has been exhausting. So, uh, I’ll be relieving myself to my bed.”

Loki frowns in amusement; you blush even harder.

“To sleep!” You add quickly. “I’m going to relieve myself by sleeping, is what I meant.”

You pace pass him, not knowing why you felt the need to hide your face.

Loki puts his hands in his pockets. “Enjoy yourself.”

-----

The pillows comfort your head as you lay. Your room was starting to dim with violet and orange as the sun outside your window was lowering from the sky. You roll over, glancing at where the rays hit your chest of drawers. It was like the universe was being perverse with its humour because the sunset shone directly as to where you hid your sex toys. You get flashbacks of work, and the personal conversations that your colleagues spilled you with, and all the dildos you displayed, and all the vibrators you pressed buttons on to demonstrate their strengths.

Cuddling a pillow, you thought about Loki and pondered about what he was doing; he seems pretty calm, as per usual, and probably busy with some work from his students at the university. Shutting your eyes, he comes to life in your mind. Your memory makes the room vivid as it remembers the walls of hardcover novels and encyclopaedias, and his deep brown varnished desk in the middle of it all. He sits behind it, his low-lidded eyes concentrating on a page in front of him. You internally whine; you can’t see his eyes properly but they’re green and glinting. Watching his hands, you see him write; they’re large, agile and slender. His fingers touch his face in contemplation, and you see him take a small bite of his bottom lip…

A pool of wetness began dripping from your folds as your minds lets you relive the touch of his hands on your body, and his lips against yours. You can smell a scent; a citrus and oak fragrance that familiarised the God of Mischief to you…

God, you were horny, and the added detail that the colleague gave you, was making your body shift in need of alleviation.

Nothing was going to relieve you like Loki did. It was infuriating as to how good he could make you feel. Since then, no dildo, no toy had satisfied you the way he did. Even he put your own hands to shame; they knew how to do it, but Loki seemed to be more attentive, and intimate, and clever…

With the time you had been taking to evade and distance yourself from him, the more you understood that your body wanted him, and to accept that fact was getting easier and easier.

[thepancakeboi]

Day 1: Favorite Scene

Would you people hate me if I said it’s the scene after the boiler room fight...? Because it is- Granted, “Honey I’m home” is always a favorite of mine but...the after-fight FEELS. Also, my favorite scene could change as I play through Royal, as I’m still on the third palace and have just started Goro’s confidant.

I’m going to leave this now. Someone needs to remind me to stop writing things that make me cry-

I severely underestimated you, Joker. You and your band of thieves...

“You ready to call it quits?”

Skull’s question is pointless. Isn’t my answer obvious? I decide to indulge him with a response if only to put your mind at ease. “I know... I’ve had enough.” I’m done trying to kill you. It’s clear your skills exceed mine. You win again, just as you always do. “...You’re so lucky. Lucky to be surrounded... by teammates who acknowledge you...And once Shido confesses his crimes, you’ll all be heroes.” Your fame won’t be part of an elaborate scheme this time. Shido’s crimes are truly unforgivable. No one would side with him once the truth is revealed. Anyone who does isn’t in their right mind. But with the truth comes... “As for me, people will find out my past deductions were just charade. My fame and trust will vanish.” The trust I had lost with you, the Phantom Thieves, it seems minuscule in comparison.

“I see,” Mona says after a slight pause. “So you were turning people psychotic, then solving the cases yourself. And you did that by joining forces with Shido.”

He’s just now figuring this out? How foolish...though I keep those thoughts to myself. I don’t have the time nor the heart to antagonize your group further. Besides, what right have I to say anything? It was foolish of me to think I could take on all the Phantom Thieves at once. Mona was right. I’m just some child ‘throwing a temper tantrum’ as he rightly put it. What was I thinking, believing I could be something special? That was the wishful thinking of a naive little kid. “In the end... I couldn’t be special...”

Skull immediately buts in. “Dude, you’re more than special...”

Wait...what?

“It pains me to admit... but your wit and strength far exceeds ours. We only defeated you by teaming up,” Queen reluctantly admits. Where is this coming from? “I was honestly... envious of your natural ability. It was frustrating to see how much my sister trusted you...” If only you knew how strained our trust truly was when I started working with you. Sae-San and I were barely speaking to each other by that point in time.

I’m surprised when Noir joins in. She’s the last person I would expect to add on to this conversation, considering what I did to her father. “I have no intention of forgiving you for what you did to my father, but... I sympathize with you.” I don’t expect her to ever forgive me, and she shouldn’t. Not when I don’t deserve any form of forgiveness. “I wholeheartedly understand wanting to get back at the adults who took from you...”

“But when you gained the power to fulfill that desire, you only used it for your own self-benefit,” Fox adds.

Oracle chimes in after him. “If you’ve got more than one Persona, maybe you actually have the same kinda power as Joker’s.” The same power? My gaze turns to you at this. You’re being much more quiet than usual. I wonder what’s going on in that head of yours. “But you trusted no one, so you only got two Personas: one for your lies, and one for your hate. Still, you thought that was enough, right? That part I totally get.”

“You excelled at everything over us... yet that was the one thing you lacked.”

The one thing I lacked...here I thought it was skill, or perhaps friendship. To think that it would be simply trusting others. Oracle and Fox are right. I only relied on myself to get where I am, trusting no one. In the end, that’s what’s caused my downfall. Though...it isn’t entirely true. I had trusted you to some extent.

“All right, let’s go back and get that callin’ card ready!” Skull says, eager to leave. “We’re gonna take Shido down. What’re you gonna do?”

The question stuns me. You shouldn’t be concerning yourself with me. “It’d be a problem if you kept getting in our way. Wanna come along and help us settle things?” Panther asks.

“...Are you all idiots?” I finally say, shoving my own feelings away. It doesn’t matter that I want to come with your group or that I would love nothing more than to fight my father by your side. It’s too late for that. “You should get rid of me... if you don’t want me getting in your way.”

It may have been Panther who asked the question, but my eyes are on you. I want to hear your response. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” you say with such certainty, such finality, that it leaves little room for argument. “I don’t want to lose you. Come with us. We’ll change his heart, together.”

Together...? Is that really what you want? I shake my head at the absurdity. “...You all are truly beyond my comprehension.”

“Akechi?” Skull blurts out in shock. His response confuses me.

“Another one!? Wait, is he...” Fox says, and it’s then I realize the source of their surprise. I must really be faltering if I didn’t notice the newcomer, a nearly identical version of me. His dead brown eyes give away who, or what, he is.

“That’s... Shido’s cognitive version of Akechi!” Mona says, confirming my suspicions.

So, I’ll be finding out what my father thinks of me. Haha, not that I give a shit anymore-wait, he’s...pointing a gun at me!? “I’ll deal with the rest of you later,” he says. At the look of shock on my face, he elaborates. “Captain Shido’s orders... He has no need for losers. Well... this just moves the plan up a little. He was going to get rid of you after the election anyway.”

“What!?” How... how could he!?

“Did you truly believe you’d be spared after all the murders you undertook?” No... I hadn’t believed that for a second. I knew the consequences of my crimes should they ever be discovered. But surely Shido couldn’t say anything without implicating himself! “Don’t tell me... Were you actually feeling good about having someone rely on you for once?”

“I-” I... had enjoyed being relied on, even if the reason was as deplorable as needing me as his personal hit-man.

“Oh by the way, the captain says it’s time you receive retribution for causing the mental shutdowns.”

“What the hell, man!?” Ryuji yells. He sounds pissed. “That bastard’s the one who put him up to it!”

“I see,” I chuckle. The irony of the situation doesn’t escape me. “I was wondering how he’d protect himself if I used my power to tear through his Palace. Turns out you’re how. So he’s making a puppet kill me... Sounds like something he’d do.”

He nods. “That’s right. I’ll do anything. But look at yourself... you’re the true puppet.” I...I’m the puppet? “You wanted to be acknowledged, didn’t you? To be loved? You’ve been nothing but a puppet from the very beginning.” That... was exactly what I had wanted. All of my plans, my revenge, all stemmed from simply wanting my father to acknowledge me. Here it turns out that he already knew everything and he has no qualms of killing me off. It doesn’t surprise me, but... “What’s all this nagging about?” He’s talking to you and the rest of the thieves. What did any of them even say...? “Want me to take care of you first?”

I can hear the sound of Shadows materializing behind me, but I pay them no mind. Panther is the one to speak the entire group’s thoughts. “No... He’s not alone! He has Shadows too!”

“You know what? I’ll let someone volunteer to take his place.” A cruel grin forms on the cognition’s face as if relishing the situation. “Who knows, you might delay his death.”

Immediately, my eyes hone in on you. I’ve seen that look in your eyes before, right before you execute some outlandish scheme. You better not try it now. “I-”

“No,” I snarl, cutting off whatever response you might have. I already know exactly what you’re thinking, and I’m not going to let you go through with whatever wild plan is taking shape in your mind. “I’m not letting you die for me.”

“But-”

“No.” I am not going to let you change my mind.

“You guys are all about doing things for others, aren’t you?” The cognitive me remarks as if goading you on into ignoring my wishes. “Oh, that’s just the same as me. I’m going to take all the blame for our captain. I’ll die for him too.”

“This is what Shido thinks of Akechi-kun, even after making him help with the murders!?” Queen says in surprise. Why is your group so shocked by this? I know exactly the kind of man my father is. I know what’s going to happen next.

“Here, I’ll give you one last chance.” The cognition focuses his attention solely on me. “Shoot them,” he commands.

I laugh, “I was such a fool.”

My hand is steady as I point my gun, aiming it right between your eyes. The mask hides it well, but I remember the look on your face right now. It’s the same one that you had in the interrogation room just before I murdered you in cold blood. Despite my outward stillness, my thoughts are going haywire. Am I truly capable of this? Your voice wavers a little as if you can’t bring yourself to believe the scene before you. “Goro, you-”

“Yes,” the cognition hisses excitedly. “That’s the you our captain wishes to see.”

I shake my head, a chuckle escaping me. If anyone notices my tears, I’m blaming it on the pain of my injuries. “...Don’t misunderstand.” I don’t know who I mean that to: you, the cognitive version of me, or both of you. It seems I’ve finally managed to fool you after all. “You’re the one who’s going to disappear!”

I whirl around, immediately firing once I have the cognition in my sights. My shot hits him in the abdomen. I barely spare him a glance as he drops to his knees. My next target is further away, but my accuracy pays off. The glass shatters, the bullet activating the red button underneath. Alarms blare as red lights flash. “The watertight bulkhead door has closed,” an automatic announcement says in a monotone female voice. “All personnel within the partition wall: evacuate at once.”

My intuition was right. The bulkhead door rises up from the ground, right between us. I’m left with the Shadows and the cognition. This is how it was always meant to be. ���Whoa, what is this!?” Oracle says, her voice muffled behind the door.

“Akechi!” Skull yells, banging his fists hard. His voice is clearer just because of how loud he is. Typical.

“Hurry up and go,” I yell back, leaning against the door. I’m struggling to stay on my own two feet, but I fear that if I collapse now, I’ll never get back up.

“You fool!” Fox’s voice isn’t as loud as Skull’s, but his voice cuts through the thick metal. “Are you trying to get yourself killed!?”

I suppress a laugh. It wasn’t the plan, but... if it happens, so be it. At least my death will be for something- no, someone I love. “The real fools... are you guys. You should have just abandoned me here a long time ago... You would have all perished... if you had tried to face these with me weighing you down...” My words are interrupted by a fit of coughing. I cover my mouth as I do. The black gloves are speckled with red spots that hadn’t been there before. It’s blood... my blood.

“Akechi-kun!” Queen cries out. Is...she concerned about me?

I hear a fist bang against the wall, this time right behind me, and I immediately assume it to be Skull again. Instead, I’m shocked to hear your voice crying out my name, “Goro!” Are you...crying? I must be imagining things. I’m not worth your tears. “Why!? Why are you-”

My voice is strained as I continue. Even talking hurts. “Let’s make a deal, okay?”

“Goro...”

I can hear the pout in your voice. I’m so glad I cannot see your expression. It would make this so much harder. “You won’t say no, will you?”

Fox answers, “Why at a time like this!?”

I know you won’t deny my words. You’re too good, too perfect to refuse this request. “Change Shido’s heart... in my stead... End his crimes... Please!” I end with a desperate yell. I’m hoping you don’t refuse.

“Akeppi...” I wasn’t imagining it after all. You are crying over me. Of course you are. If there’s one thing that has been constant, it’s your damn feelings for me at every turn. I don’t even object to that stupid little nickname you gave me all those months ago. “I’ll hold on to your glove.”

I gasp. I thought you had forgotten about that, after everything that has happened. To think that you still have it... I shake my head. You never fail to surprise me. “Heh... After all this, that’s what you have to say? Seriously, you really are...”

I don’t have time to finish my sentence. The cognitive version of me is finally recovering, standing up as he snarls in whatever pain a cognition can feel. “You bastard...”

He immediately points his gun at me. I push myself off the wall, pointing my own gun at the cognition. “So my final enemy is a puppet version of myself... I...!”

I try to shut out the rest of the world before my resolve falters. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid. I am, but... you’re worth this sacrifice. If only I could have accepted your offer, but there’s still no use talking in hypotheticals.

I’m... I’m sorry, Ren.

Case closed. This is how my ‘justice’ ends.

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 13: Behind the Scenes Part 2

It’s not a booty call. Yet.

First  Previous  Next

Despite the princes’ best efforts, they did not manage to chase Adam off. However, they did give him an excuse not to work for the rest of the day.

Adam has but one hobby, which Lance has facilitated well over their years together. He’s working in the princes’ little garden, carefully digging into the soil to create patches of new plants. Lance chose them after spending most of an afternoon chasing after disgruntled gardeners and interrogating them as to which plants Keith seems to like most. The Crown Prince had then handed Adam and the head groundskeeper a list of new additions to his garden.

Sooner or later, Lance would no doubt be speaking to someone about expanding the tower or some other such manner of extending their garden. Adam is already looking into possible solutions, chiefly a wall around their tower to separate a space for the princes and a greenhouse for during the winter. Knowing Lance, he'll want room for a playground and some kind of small pool for their future children.

Adam feels for the princes. He keeps his feelings hidden deep, where they don't get in the way, but he acknowledges them, takes them into account. Keith doesn't appear to be interested in gardening, but he definitely has an interest in being outside. Having his own special garden might help keep him inside the walls, keep him safe.

As Adam works his hands into the soil, coaxing some harmonic lilies, complete with the crab-hamster family as per Lance's behest, he thinks about the future.

What will the princes require? Aphrodisiacs? Contraceptives? Medicines? Oils? Should he have Hunk contact his family back on the Balmera and request some crystals? What sort of unique needs might their progeny require?

Prince Lotor had not been a healthy infant, though he cuts a striking figure now. He’s the only reference Adam has for what he might expect from the princes’ offspring. Perhaps he should confer with Coran and request Lotor’s records from Daibazaal.

Adam pulls out a comms unit and presses a button. It doesn’t take long. “Hello?”

“I have questions. Are you busy?” Adam stops to stretch his back, turning to glance at the Galra on the holograph.

“And a good day to you, too.” Shiro smiles. His ears are turned toward where Adam's face might be. “No, I’m not busy. What can I do for you?”

“What do you know of Galra hybrids?”

“Ahh… With Alteans, or in general? Not much, to be truthful, but I can put you in touch with someone who does-”

“I’d rather keep this between us.”

“As you wish.” Shiro pauses. “I know a some general information, and a few hybrids. Galra DNA takes very well to that of other species. As far as I’m aware, hybrids are most always capable of reproducing. They tend to have varying skills and characteristics. One of Lotor’s generals can turn invisible-”

“I meant health-wise.” Adam winces. “Sorry. Stress. Didn’t mean to be rude.”

“I think you need an attendant of your own.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice. I could get one, but too many people keeping secrets is… undesirable. So, health problems?”

“Minimal. Occasionally something pops up. Zethrid has some form of gigantism… Narti is blind and deaf, but that’s related to her mother species. A few have turned up with defects, but nothing major...” Shiro trails off.

“What is it?”

“Keith’s mother has his same condition. It is hereditary. That is what your greatest concern should be. Pregnancy is high-risk… Keith doesn’t know, but he’s not an only child. Not technically.”

Adam swallows, considering the implications of that. “How many?”

“Four, that Krolia knows of. There may have been others, not far enough along for her to have even been aware. Keith is her second born. The other was still-born, not even close to term.” Adam sets aside his tools, turning to face the man in the holograph. “That being said, she was isolated, and we were at war at the time, so she did not have access to medical care. We can begin planning now. I will ask if she would agree to some tests. Perhaps she can visit her son, sneak into your medical center. If we work together, all of the princes' children will have a fighting chance.”

“Hm.” Adam sits back. “That seems agreeable. More than agreeable, actually. The boy misses his mother. He seems to have a great deal of trouble sleeping. Lance sits up with him sometimes.”

“Have they started getting along, yet?”

“Yes, actually.” Adam bites his lip. “You didn’t hear this from me.”

“Of course not.”

“But their quintessence is compatible.” His and Shiro’s is too, but he keeps that to himself. “Lance’s base is blue, mostly, but he has a red streak, as well. Keith’s base is red, with a streak of black. They’re not perfectly matched, but do complement each other nicely. They might end up actually working as a couple.”

“That would be nice. Say, what’s my base?”

“Black. Black is compatible with anything.” Adam turns back to the garden, pruning the golden regent orchid Keith stole. He adjusts the twine tethering it to the tree, feeding a bit of his own quintessence, coaxing its roots to take to the trunk. He'd had to dig it up once the soil had begun to cause its health to decline.

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“That’s its nature. Black is a concentration of pigment. It’s made to absorb everything else and spread like ink in water. A great leader has the ability to make everyone part of the same whole.

“For example…” Adam glances to the Galra whose attention never wavers. It’s flattering, after so long being the invisible man. For the first time in his life, Adam caves. “Green quintessence is knowledge, and enthusiasm with knowledge. It’s also a connection with living things. Life moves in cycles, as does knowledge. It ebbs, flows, fades in and out…But it can be unfocused; it can err.

“A leader, like yourself, might offer that drive, that instinct, some goal or direction so that it might better serve a group.”

“You seem relatively focused,” Shiro murmurs.

“Perhaps, but I am pulled in many directions. I’ve simply had practice managing myself. Hence, gardening while thinking about medical concerns at least a decaphoeb in the future.”

“So you put the garden together. I wondered.”

“Lance assisted. He doesn’t have time for this right now, so he asked me to add some new things for Keith. He stole a rare flower and keeps coming out here to look at it, so Lance asked me to work on adding more plants and perhaps a sitting place.”

Adam carefully sets down a basket of other clinging plants, selecting a few to attach to the trunk and branches of the singing tree. Shiro watches as he carefully ties the plants in place, arranging and rearranging before using his alchemy to encourage them to take root to the trunk. “You have an eye for this sort of thing.”

“Aesthetic beauty is something Alteans value, but yes. I’m particularly skilled in achieving it.” Adam steps back to admire his handiwork. “What does your garden look like?”

“Organized rows of plants, carefully labeled and groomed.”

“Sounds ugly.”

“Ugly, but functional. Unlike your tree.”

“This is functional. It’s not a medicinal garden. It’s a garden meant to cultivate something else.” Adam plucks some turning leaves from the tree, listening to the delicate chiming tune back into key under his care. “It’s meant to cultivate happiness and peace.”

“That sounds like medicine to me. Just, you know, not the kind my people take much stock in. It’s unfortunate. I know some people who could benefit.”

“Romelle.”

“She I have an excuse for. She’s Altean. Likes pretty things. Thus, I have a bit more leeway. I can do more for her. But Galra, they appreciate functionality over everything else.”

“So...What purpose do I serve? What’s my functionality?”

“Beg pardon?”

“Well, you desired to keep in contact with me. So I must serve some functionality.” Adam turns, gives Shiro his full and undivided attention. “So… Tell me what it is.”

“Nothing. No functionality whatsoever.” The Galra captain smiles a crooked smile. “Well, there’s a bit of functionality, but that’s only a minor concern. More of a bonus than anything else. What functionality do I serve for you?”

Adam turns back to the garden, furiously pruning the dead leaves from the tree. “Undetermined.”

“I see…Well, do keep me posted, then. I will gather what information I can regarding Keith’s condition. I will also see if we can’t smuggle Krolia over for a day or two… I enjoyed speaking to you.”

“Yes.” Adam pauses. “I enjoyed it too. Thank you for inquiring on my behalf.”

“Of course. Please, contact me again. For anything at all. It doesn’t need to be pertinent.”

“I- I understand.” Adam does not confirm or deny that he will contact the captain again.

The captain smiles all the same, ears turned resolutely toward him through the screen, grey and gold eyes gleaming bright and happy. Once Keith had pointed out how smitten the Galra was, Adam can’t stop thinking about it. The way the Shiro watches his every move with delighted interest. He’s so forward, in his own way. Alteans are so much more subtle, so different in their behavior. They tend to be oblique with their words, but, with the exception of Keith, very direct with body language. The opposite of Alteans.

Still, it’s nice to be the center of someone’s attention. Maybe they can compare physik knowledge or something.

Or something.