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alienaiver · 3 years ago

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Half the Battle, pt. 1

Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

find part two here!

warnings: slight angst about childhood/parents fighting/divorce, one (1) bottle of wine is opened, someone is betrayed in Mario Party, NOT beta-read! apologize for any mistakes! (lmk if there’s any warnings i missed!)

wordcount: 5.5k

content: soulmate AU, mild angst, fluff, post-timeskip but slight canon divergence (i haven’t read the manga yet so this is loosely based off of their canon timeskip lives), gender neutral reader, reader is a video editor, reader is bad at eye contact but the details as to why are vague/up for interpretation!

notes: this was made for @gg9183 ‘s wonderful birthday event, a soulmate collab! (go read the other wonderful works!) happy birthday once again, gray!! this was meant to be a 2k one shot but.... plans and inspiration changes sometimes, right? 🥺 so this ended up as a 5k part ONE lmfao i hope thats alright w u!!! part2 will be up asap, i promise!! i hope you enjoy this!!!!

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Not meeting his soulmate was fine, Kuroo often found himself thinking. The odds of finding your soulmate’s way too low to be realistic anyways, he supported the thought. It’s illogical to spend so much time fretting about it, he finally added for good measure.

Soulmates were a natural part of life, always had been. But with the big wide world filled with over seven billion people, meeting yours wasn’t completely unheard of. But given the powers of soulmates even existing, it wasn’t unrealistic to also believe that some kind of fate would pull you towards each other throughout your lives so that you would meet each other. Kuroo however, prided himself in not caring about soulmates. His life was rich enough. People explaining their feelings about “something being missing until they finally meet them” was incomprehensible to him.

Kuroo had lived for 29 years without being able to see color. And you know what? His life was damn well fulfilling enough. He had a beautiful apartment, an economy that flourished, an adorable cat named Cucumber and good people around him. What would he really need a soulmate for? He could ignore his friends comments on how wonderful the world was in color, if only he would just start looking for his soulmate, how much meaning it gave life. Just because the people in his closest circle had all magically met theirs – not to mention how many of them had already met in Goddamn high school, Kuroo scoffed and was always able to move on.

Even though a lot of people actively made eye contact with everyone they met, even people on the street, to make sure they would meet their soulmate, Kuroo kept his eyes down. He wasn’t insecure, come on, he was perfectly happy! He just didn’t need to be late for a meeting because he got eye contact with some stranger, you know?

His life was in perfect balance as is.. Until yesterday, of course. It had turned out there was mold in his apartment complex so they had to evict it for a month while a crew would go through everything to remove it. He didn’t want to go to his mother’s place, that was too far from his work, but he wasn’t in the mood for a hotel, that was way too expensive, so he turned to his best friend of many years with the biggest set of puppy eyes he could muster and the prospect of making every dinner while he lived there.

“Fine… but don’t get in the way,” was all Kenma had to say.

And so Kuroo spent his last weekend in his own apartment packing things down to make it accessible to the cleaning crew. Cucumber hated other cats with a passion so he couldn’t bring him to Kenma’s, where three cats already happily lived, so his mother would pick him up tomorrow afternoon.

He sat on his couch, scrolling his phone mindlessly with Cucumber on his lap who had been stressed with all the packing down, sensing something was up. He was being extra cuddly towards Kuroo who, honestly? Didn’t mind at all. He loved when Cucumber was in mood for cuddles, though it wasn’t very often. He had been told his cat was orange and while he didn’t have a measure for what that color actually looked like, he was happy with his gray cat.

His mother was supposed to arrive any minute now, so he should have gotten up and put the cat in his carrier but it was easier to get him in it if you had two pair of hands. He scrolled through Instagram, reaching a photo put up by Tsukishima of his soulmate, the light-haired manager of their high school volleyball club, with a tooth-eating grin on her face and proudly showing off a ring on her finger, the caption said, This smile makes me wanna brag. Kuroo could physically hear the provocative tone of his voice, knowing he was one of the first in his circle of friends to actually plan a wedding. Kuroo clicked his tongue with a smile on his face and double-tapped to like the picture.

He didn’t know if it was the combination of that post and the fact that his mother was on her way but memories of his parent’s wedding flooded his mind. For a lot of people, weddings felt obsolete in the face of the whole “you already got your soulmate and you know this” thing, so a lot of couples were happy not getting married but just being together. But there was also the benefits of marriage in the practical sense, so some people did anyways, some hosting parties, some not. His parents weren’t married when he came to, but after he turned five they decided to do it so he would be protected by both of them, in case of any emergency.

It had been a small wedding, only the closest family and friends but Kuroo was vivid, so excited about being part of that whole romantic ordeal, even helping his mom find a dress and everything. He had been a huge and important part of the wedding – if he did say so himself. Everyone had been glowing at the day, the food was delicious, there was laughter, song and cheers and everyone had brought so many presents – even some for little Tetsurou, who had been very excited about his new train tracks.

But when Kuroo was seven years old, it wasn’t as romantic anymore. His parents were fighting a lot, he wasn’t entirely sure why or about what because they would never tell him about it, no matter how much he asked. When he tried to listen in, the words he heard didn’t explain anything to him because even though they were yelling at each other, the important words were always whispered, as if they knew Kuroo was listening in.

When he was eight his mom had come into his room, hugged him and with tears in her eyes and said that they were going to move away.

“Where are we going?” he asked simply, no emotion to be read on his little face. He was exhausted from his parents being this way – they were soulmates, right? Why did they fight like that?

“To Tokyo, just you and me, my love.”

That’s when he met Kenma. He had been very closed-off and shy back when they met, he reminisced. He had been a regular kid when he was younger but the way his parents split up – his soulmate parents – had closed him off pretty bad, so it was a miracle he met Kenma and started opening up again.

Kuroo smiled to himself bitterly before scratching Cucumber’s ear. He supposed this was also why he wasn’t interested in his soulmate. So many people had romanticized the whole soulmate ideal so a lot of people forgot that relationships still took work, took effort and just because they were made for each other, didn’t necessarily guarantee that they would stay together. His mom and dad didn’t officially talk anymore, but when he asked his mom as a child whether or not she still saw color, she said that she did. He also found long letters in her bedroom when he was nine, letters from his dad, so he supposed they still talked together, though Kuroo wasn’t let in on it – nor was he particularly interested. And he definitely we wasn’t interested in ending up in a relationship with someone who would end up not wanting to put in the effort for the relationship to flourish.

After Cucumber had been picked up by his mom it was time to leave for Kenma’s place. He carried the last boxes of valuables down to his basement and locked them in before trekking down to the subway with his suitcase and sports bag.

_____

You were late for work, so you scrambled to pack your things. It was Wednesday afternoon and you were supposed to meet in at 3PM, because that was around the time that Kodzuken had planned to finish his recording, he told you yesterday. You were a video editor and had met Kenma through your old part-time job in his favorite convenience store quite a few years back, back when he had first bought his house when he was 24. You remembered talking to him about video games in the store since you also played some, and after a good while of polite customer service and talk about new games, you had started hanging out outside of work as well. When you had then told him you were actually a freelance video editor but just didn’t get many jobs, he had almost instantly hired you to do his YouTube videos for him and general editing and set-ups of his streams. I know video games, not recording equipment, he had told you so many years ago.

Your original thought had been wary, because working for a friend might get messy but Kenma cared a lot about keeping it professional when you were on the clock, which you appreciated very much. In his house, down by his game room, there was a room next door with screens and all the best editing software just for you to play with. Your pay was higher than average for such a “simple” but regular gig but when prompted about it, he simply shrugged and told you it wasn’t up for negotiation and no one was being treated unfair – and who were you to go against such a good pay for a job that you loved doing and wanted to do full-time? With Kenma being a famous streamer and gamer, he often made lots of different videos for various sites so your job hours resembled a nine to five job, easy, even if the hours were off from the more conventional jobs and you usually came in later in the day and sometimes finished off late in the evening – some of his videos had a time limit for a release date of a game, so there was also days where you were extremely busy and scrambling to get the video done right for a release of a game.

As you closed your bag and ran out the door towards the subway, you checked your phone for any updates. If he’d finished early, he would’ve texted you about it, so you put your phone in your pocket and hurried towards his house.

When you arrived you immediately rang the doorbell before catching your breath, you were used to Kenma spending a few minutes before reaching the door and opening it, so when the door opened almost instantly you took a step back before looking up. The one opening the door was taller than Kenma and in a loose dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the top - that’s all you saw before your eyes darted down to your feet.

“...Hi! I’m uh… Where’s Kenma?” was all you got out while fidgeting with your purse strap, it certainly wasn’t his boyfriend Hinata opening the door today.

“Oh, hey! You must be his video editor, right? He told me about you!” The man said, pointing to himself with his thumb,

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou! Kenma’s childhood friend! Sorry to intrude, I’ll be living here for the next month, I promise not to get in your way!” As he finished his introduction, he moved aside so that you could enter. As you took off your shoes you heard Kenma’s feet shuffling towards you, “oh hey, welcome, you’re early,” Kenma said with his usual deadpan expression but you could clearly hear the teasing in his voice.

“At least I’m here now, right?” You smiled back, instantly relaxing at the sight of your boss and friend. You turned to Kuroo again, bowed and introduced yourself before taking off your coat and putting it on a hanger, while Kenma and the guy named Kuroo seemed to bicker a bit about whether or not Kuroo should answer the door while he lived there.

“I’ll go set it up, have you transferred the video files to the hard disk?” you asked Kenma as you moved towards ‘your’ office, sending Kuroo a polite smile while keeping your eyes on his neck.

Eye contact was hard for you, it always made you extremely uncomfortable and you didn’t really have any before you felt comfortable with the person. Your mother had often scolded you, saying you’d never find your soulmate at this rate, which you always acknowledged with a hum or a simple yes without starting a discussion.

You honestly weren’t sure whether or not you cared for a soulmate. Your biggest argument to wanting to find one was so that you could see colors, because it’d help your career. Kenma already had his soulmate, so he was the one deciding the color scheme for his videos and helped with the color-related editing, which worked fine as of now, but you would probably appreciate to be able to do it yourself. You had also spent some years coming to terms with your struggles with eye contact and accept that this was just how you functioned. If you missed your soulmate in a random supermarket thanks to it one day, well, you’d be none the wiser, so you felt sure you’d survive without one, but you also couldn’t deny that the sound of a soulmate sounded really nice and comforting. That someone out there existed to fit you, that you were born to love someone who was also meant to love you. You were sure that finding your soulmate wasn’t a dance on roses, it was sure to still be hard, frustrating and maybe even painful sometimes, but you also couldn’t just have all the good, there was a balance that was sure to exist within soulmates as well.

After hours of going through the raw footage from his video game play and slowly editing while watching it, you popped your shoulders and stretched your arms for a moment, yawning as you did so. Your hours were always a bit intense, but that couldn’t be helped when you had six hours of raw footage to work with. Looking at the clock you saw that it was 5.30PM which meant that soon Kenma would wake up from his pseudo-sleep (which was more like a nap in your opinion) to look at your process and ask what you wanted for dinner.

Soon after a soft knock was heard followed by the door opening slowly, Kenma standing in sweats and a hoodie with bags under his eyes, “do you like hotpot?” he asked, and you smiled at him, “sure, are you cooking tonight?” he yawned while he shook his head, “Kuroo is. He insists on a ‘fulfilling meal’, whatever that means.”

You giggled before beckoning Kenma in to see some of what you’ve done so far and making minor adjustments along the way. “Now, something smells delicious and I’m thirsty,” you stated after the two of you had talked a bit about the rest of the video’s plans. As you went towards the kitchen you could hear the sound of of a nameless tune being hummed, pans sizzling from something being cooked and kitchen utensils being used.

Inside, the table was already set with plates and prepared ingredients lying ready for the pot that Kuroo was just about to put on the table. It seemed he had made an endless supply of different side dishes and really put in a lot of work for it, so you looked really forward to eating it and it smelled delicious. You grabbed a glass from the set table and went to the sink to get some water and just as your hand reached it, Kuroo had extended his hand as well to the sink and you accidentally touched.

You both recoiled as if you had been burned and you couldn’t stop the gasp that accidentally left your lips. A feeling was rushing through your body you hadn’t experienced before and you immediately apologized to Kuroo and went back to the table, foregoing the water. You didn’t notice how Kuroo was frozen in place from when he touched you before Kenma called out to him and he immediately started moving again.

You ended up eating shortly after, Kuroo serving the food and talking animatedly about him and Kenma’s childhood, making you laugh quite a bit at their (or more, Kuroo’s) antics and their volleyball days. Kuroo was the type of person to make you relax in his presence and have fun which you didn’t even notice until you got home later that evening and really thought about what a great time you had had. You found yourself surprised by how easily you clicked with Kuroo, a total stranger. It must be his charm, you thought to yourself before going through your night routine. You had to come back tomorrow and finish work, after all. You estimated the video would take you a few more days to finish but that would end up fitting well with the weekend coming, so as you went to bed you felt yourself more relaxed than you had in a while.

_____

“What are they like?”

It was Friday and it seemed you had finished Kenma’s video and therefor you weren’t here for dinner – for the first time in a few days, which did let down Kuroo just a tiny bit. He had talked a lot with you during dinner preparations when you came out from the office and during dinner as well and while you did answer all his questions (which, he admitted, there were quite a few of them) and follow up with your own for him, it still felt… off… talking to you – and Kuroo didn’t like not knowing why. “What do you mean?” Kenma asked, taking another bite into his mouth.

Kenma swallowed a piece of meat before looking up at Kuroo who was stabbing his plate with his fork in what seemed like a useless purpose. He knew he was being a little weird but meeting you was weird, even though he had no reason to explain why.

“I mean, is this how they usually act?” He didn’t even know what that question meant or why he was even asking it, nothing made sense! But he had a desperate feeling that he needed to get to know you – he was afraid of what that implied and what suspicions he needed to hold onto, but he was sure it was his gut telling him you were dangerous for Kenma to be around – that had to be it! Kenma was his best friend, his childhood friend, it had to be a gut feeling meant to protect him!

“Who knows, they’re being more polite than usual, I think. But that makes sense,” Kenma replied calmly before adding, “I mean you are a stranger who’s really intent on being social with them over our dinners, they were a bit shy as well when I met them,”

Kuroo nodded and finally took a bite of his own food. He didn’t notice Kenma’s raised eyebrows or the questioning look that was sent his way, so Kenma decided to let the subject rest.

Not seeing you today felt weird to him too and he couldn’t help the irritation building up inside him – you had just met a few days ago and only in the evenings when he was done with work and ready to make dinner – and yet, the thought of you kept invading his mind. He had gotten through work today thinking you were going to be there for dinner so when he came home and found out you wouldn’t be there, the first seed of irritation had been planted – why was he suddenly looking so much forward to seeing you? Had it been like this yesterday too? Why was it suddenly important that you weren’t there? He ended up sitting in front of the laptop in the guest room for the rest of the evening, the document left open and completely untouched.

Kuroo, however, didn’t let the subject rest in his head for the rest of that evening. Hinata was in town, having time off after a big game yesterday so Kuroo was left to his own devices – which really wasn’t a problem considering he had to make the paperwork for a promotional deal for a meeting Monday morning that he had procrastinated making – which wasn’t like him at all, he usually never pushed assignments to last minute and he then realized the reason he wasn’t done yet was because he had spent so much time over the dinner table with Kenma and you, talking even after dinner had been done for a while. You always offered to help him with the clean-up so you also spent some time talking there, drifting off to various subjects far passing the cleaning duties and sitting down again with a glass of water.

He enjoyed your company, it felt... easy, somehow, the sensation that something was off was there but it didn’t really settle in his stomach until every time after you left, as if it was left to grow a bit from a small sensation to a problem, which worried him – Kuroo prided himself as an impeccable people-reader, he was captain for both the volleyball team in high school and college, he knew how to act around business relations so well because he could read them so flawlessly – so the feelings he got from you was unsettling and unreadable and it took some control away from him – and Kuroo always felt uneasy when he wasn’t in control.

____

Kuroo heard your name and almost got whiplash from how fast his head moved towards Kenma, “what?”

“I asked if we should invite them? To game night? Being three is a little annoying in Mario Party.”

“Oooh, that’s a good idea! I’d love to see them again!” Hinata happily exclaimed before taking another bite of the lasagna Kuroo had prepared tonight. It was Saturday and Kuroo had been in a daze the entire day, first at the office for a quick meeting with his boss about a potential partner he might be able to reel in soon and then doing his laundry at Kenma’s and continuing to try and make the stupid paperwork but ultimately failing before he had to make dinner.

“Isn’t it a bit late to invite someone? I mean, they could have plans already...” Kuroo tried, knowing what a pain it could be to be asked to something an hour before it happened and he didn’t want to let you go through that – that’s what he tried to tell himself, at least. In truth? He was a bit afraid of seeing you again, afraid of his potential reactions, since he had spent his entire Friday in a stupor just thinking about you. His thoughts didn’t mean much for Kenma and Hinata though, who was already texting you to ask. “Oi, no phones at the table, have you parents taught you no manners?” Kuroo chided and Hinata immediately shrank back and apologized – Kuroo smirked, yea the Chibi-chan still had respect for his seniors. But he was quickly pulled back to thoughts about you by Kenma’s phone lighting up again, “they’ll be here in an hour. They’re asking if they should bring anything?” Kenma looked up to gauge Kuroo’s reaction, having noticed something about his friend had been off the past few days. He immediately made a funny grimace before turning it into a smile. “Yea, they can bring a bottle of white wine, if I have to beat you all at Mario Party, I would very much like to be a tiny bit buzzed,” Kuroo said, and Hinata looked at him with wide eyes, “you drink wine!? So grown up!” Hinata exclaimed, to which Kenma just muttered, “or just an old man…” Kuroo didn’t hear that though, too busy to fidget with his hands under the table, suddenly feeling nervous that you were showing up.

Hinata plopped down between Kuroo and you with a controller in hand, “I’m gonna beat you all in this Mario Kart!” to which you laughed loudly, “good luck since we’re playing Mario Party.”

“Huh? Is there a difference?” Hinata asked, making Kuroo belt out a loud laugh as well, holding his stomach, “you just told us you’d beat us but you don’t even know what we’re playing!” Kuroo couldn’t contain his laughter for a bit until he noticed how you were looking at him and instantly retracted his laugh, sitting up straight with a cough, and apologizing for being loud, which confused him to no end. He had never been self-conscious of his own laugh! He knew it could be obnoxious and loud, but he also liked it himself, and-

“That’s a really cute laugh.”

The comment earned you the stares of the century from the three other people in the room, with Kenma in genuine shock – he wouldn’t say he disliked Kuroo’s laugh, just that it was… special.

“Uhm… Uh. Thank you?” Kuroo could feel that his blush went all the way to his ears but he hoped that the light in the living room wasn’t bright enough to catch it. “Yeah uh! Sure! Mhm,” you awkwardly coughed a bit as well before reaching for your glass of wine.

You had brought a bottle of white wine for Kuroo on the promise that you’d get a glass too, saying he was your first friend who also liked wine. The word ‘friend’ had dumb-founded him and he’d just answered “you can have it all,” to which you had laughed and said it’s fine with half, you weirdo.

The game was about to begin but Kuroo was still sitting stuck on the fact that his laugh was cute – cute? Had anyone else found it cute before besides Bokuto and his mom? He wasn’t sure – he sure couldn’t pinpoint them right now anyways. He tried to shake it off and focus on the game, though quite a bit of time was spent explaining the rules to Hinata who apparently had thought they were just playing Mario Kart.

When you were 12 laps into it, it seemed that you were set to win with your four stars and 121 coins. Kenma was right behind you with three stars and Hinata and Kuroo had been left in the dust with zero stars. You had stolen Kuroo’s first (and only) star early in the game, so he was plotting his vengeance in quiet but was getting afraid that the game would end before he could do anything to you – but just as his hopes were at the smallest during the last round of the game, you were put in the same team as him in the last mini game.

Kuroo had a wide smirk when you cheered and said, “this’ll be easy then!” because no, it would not be easy for you. If he had to go down in order to take you down a notch, then so be it. He’d rather Kenma win than you did with stolen goods!

The last mini game was “Tow the Line” where two players were put in a sewing box shaped with nine dots as a grid and two players tied together with a string and the objective was to make the shape with the string as shown in the middle of screen. As soon as the whistle sounded, Kuroo lowered his hands and stopped using his controllers, all with a big grin on his lips.

“Kuroo, what the fuck! Get moving, we’ve started!” you yelled at him as Kenma and Hinata won the first round, signaling the next round began, Kuroo started whistling and looking away from the screen, to which you got up from your seat, “fine, I’ll just take your controller and do it myself!”

Kuroo put his arm with the controller behind him, “nah-ah-ah! You’re not winning this, fiend! That’s what you get for stealing my star!” He grinned up at you with his eyes closed as you stood with your hands on your hips, “come on man! I stole that star in the fourth round! Kenma stole a star from me as well!” you tried, “maybe he stole the one that was yours, who knows! Get over it so we can win!”

But as soon as you’d said that, the third round had just been won and you sighed and flopped down on your seat again, “not cool Kuroo, not cool. I’ll remember this!”

You both laughed as the game made ready to announce the winner, Kenma and Hinata entertained by your antics.

“You can’t avenge something that I avenged in the first place! I only did it because you did me wrong, you know!”

“You can’t use logic on me, it doesn’t apply!”

To no surprise, you won the entire game, even winning one of the two bonus stars given at the end of the game.

After the last sequence and a bow from you there was a quick break before you decided to play some Mario Kart for Hinata’s sake, since his argument was that he lost due it being Party instead. You played quite a few hours and after another toilet break you had switched places with Hinata so Kenma could cuddle up against him. You yawned, drinking the last of the wine in your glass and said, “I should head home, I have a friend coming over for lunch tomorrow.”

Hinata and Kenma both started to get up to say goodnight but you waved at them with a smile, “I can walk out myself, it’s fine!” But Kuroo had already gotten up from the couch as well, so you walked with him towards the hallway where you put on your shoes. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you, which Kuroo noted and scowled a bit - he might have only known you for less than a week but for some reason he felt like it had been a lot longer, like you were old friends – it felt strange, to be so close with a stranger. He didn’t know anything about you, really. He knew your name, your job and how you liked some of your vegetables and which meat was your favorite, he knew you also loved cats but didn’t have one (he couldn’t remember if he knew why) and he felt pretty sure he would recognize you in a crowded area – why it was so intense, he was unsure of, he hadn’t tried meeting someone this way before. It had also seemed like having this game night had made you considerably more relaxed in his presence, even joking around with him instead of being polite, which made Kuroo somewhat giddy, though it didn’t really make sense to him as to why.

“I hope you had fun,” Kuroo said awkwardly, as if he had been the host and scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah, I did! I’m sorry I stole your star, though,” you laughed, buttoning your jacket.

“Nah, no worries, as they say, all’s fair in love and war, right?”

You giggled and picked up your bag from the dresser while Kuroo opened up the door for you. As you exited, you turned around with a bright smile, “well, thanks for toni-”

Everything ended up a blur, too bright, too much, too noisy, too… colorful? Kuroo was still looking into your eyes as all that went through him, completely blindsided. As he took a proper look, he could see that you looked just as surprised as him, your eyes wide but still never leaving his either.

“Is… Is this? Are you? Is…” You asked after what felt like both days and milliseconds, I could stare at them so much longer, he thought to himself, the colors only making your face more clear to him. Had you really not had eye contact at all? Had you seen each other for several hours – more than a few times, without looking each other in the eyes at all? Kuroo was more baffled by this happening so late than the fact that it was happening.

He was about to say something, anything, when you promptly turned around, nervously yelling, “I-I uh, I gotta go! Goodbye!” as you hurried out of the driveway and down towards the subway.

“W-wait!” Kuroo belatedly and unhelpfully yelled out as you turned a corner, too late. You were gone. A hand was dragged down his face as a sigh left him, what the fuck had just happened? He obviously needed to talk to you about this, but he also needed to gather his thoughts about all of this, so he slowly closed the door and went back towards the living room, greeted by Hinata and Kenma who looked up at him curiously, “why did you yell?” Hinata asked with his head tilted.

“I think I just found my soulmate.”

#haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou x reader #hq x reader #waaaaah im so nervous about this!!!! i basically cranked it out in less than 24hrs ngl.... i had 1.5k of beautiful words before i came u #P WITH A WHOLE OTHER PLOT!!!! :-)#if any of u get the ref of the title i love u and we need to play mp together lmao <33333 #also kenhina and tsukiyachi is mentioned!#both reader and kuroo r A MESS #stay tuned for part 2!!!!!!#nohr.writing #half the battle series #im gonna dig a hole real quick to hide in hehehe #honestly im not sure this is entirely coherent i had so much.... i wanted to force into it im afraid some of it feels out of place but!!!#here we go!! face the fear lmao!!!!

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czenzo · 3 years ago

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Misdial - Chapter I

[ao3] chapter links: [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ Epilogue ]

summary: Lucy, a newly-enrolled fine arts student at a London university, accidentally calls the wrong number and ends up getting to know a business student who also happens to be in the same city. Slowly but surely, they realise their lives are intertwined more than they initially thought, and soon they find their friendship may be evolving into something more. Or: After a chance phone call, Lucy and Lockwood spend the next few months pining after one another.

rating: G words: 1937

note: baby's first multi-chap fic!! I've almost written all nine chapters but still have to go through and do some editing (can't wait), but I've enjoyed writing this so much that I wanted to get the first two completed and posted asap. hope you enjoy! :)

The streets of London are alive with the hustle and bustle of commuters, buskers, students, and all of the other people who manage to get in Lucy Carlyle’s way. She desperately wants to go home; after a long day of seminars, tutorials, the beginnings of a mildly stressful group project, and an irritating visit to the nearest phone shop, she craves nothing but the warmth and comfort of her bed, along with a good cuppa and a biscuit or two (or three).

She reluctantly decides to slow down, accepting that the streets aren’t going to become any less congested just because she wants to get back to her flat, and pulls out her brand-spanking-new phone from her coat pocket. It’s shiny and clean, lacking any scratches or cracks, and although she quickly set it up at the phone shop, transferring her old data onto it has to wait until she gets home. Despite this, she stabs in the digits for what she thinks is her flatmate’s number and hopes that her memory serves her well.

The phone dials once, twice, and then a soft click tells Lucy that she’s picked up.

“Holly,” she breathes, “I am having such a day. I managed to pick up a new phone after Skull lovingly smashed my old one, which is good since not having a mobile would be pretty inconvenient, right? But the rest of my day’s been shit. They’ve moved on from all the introductory lectures ’n stuff now, but instead of starting us off on our own, they’ve put us in groups. I’ve got to do a group project, Holly. I have to work with people. I’ve not even recovered from Freshers’ week yet. And everyone in my group seems so pretentious.

“If I’d read through the course syllabus I’d’ve known this was coming up, but I didn’t, I’m an idiot, and I’ve been jump-scared by this project. God, I hope this goes well. I don’t want to give all the course-runners a bad impression of me on my first project. I just— agh, I don’t know. I think I just need a cup of tea. Are you in right now? Could you pop the kettle on for me?”

There’s a stretch of silence in which Lucy double checks Holly hasn’t hung up on her, but when she puts the phone back to her ear and goes to ask if she’s alright, an unexpectedly deep voice cuts her off.

“I would put the kettle on, but I don’t know how much use it would be to you.”

“Oh. You’re not Holly.” She stops walking.

“That I am not,” a smooth, well-spoken voice says through the phone. “Misdialed number?”

“Must’ve been. I’m so sorry.”

There’s a soft laugh from the other end. “It’s alright.”

“I’ll hang up now,” she says, after a short pause.

“You don’t want to keep ranting about the group project?”

“I— hah, yeah, sure. I’ll probably make your ears bleed if I go on about it anymore.” She looks down at her feet, then up to the sky, and is thrown to find it’s getting dim already. The beginnings of autumn have shortened the daylight hours, it seems. “Actually, do you mind if I stay on the phone for a little bit? I have a short walk back through a city and it’s getting dark. Doing it alone doesn’t sound fun.”

“You don’t want to call someone else?”

“I can’t remember anyone’s numbers correctly, apparently.”

“…Ah. Okay,” the other person says, confusion evident in his voice, though he doesn’t press the matter. “Alright then, what’s your name?”

“Lucy,” she answers, taking a moment to briefly wonder why she’s hesitant to walk through a city alone but content with talking and revealing information to a complete stranger on the phone. She shrugs the thought off; Lucy Carlyle has never been one for logical decision-making. She once rescued an injured, feral, aggressive black cat from an alley and nursed it to health, and now she’ll complete the short walk home while making odd small talk with a stranger. “You?”

“Lockwood.”

“Lockwood?”

“It’s my surname. Most people use it to refer to me.”

He really is well-spoken. Self-consciousness over her northern speech habits starts to rise in her, just like it did when she first met Holly after replying to her ad looking for a flatmate. Immediately, she squashes it down.

“So, you’re in a city?”

“London,” she says, reasoning that the city’s so vast there’s no harm in telling him.

“Oh.” Lockwood pauses. “I’m in London, too.”

“Funny coincidence.” She presses the button at a pelican crossing and waits, knowing it’d be stupid to try and cross on a red man during rush hour.

“It is.”

“For my group project,” Lucy says, filling the silence that threatens to descend on them while taking a moment to admire the colours of the beginnings of the sunset peeping through the lovely smog of the city, “we’ve got to create a collection of art pieces that correspond to a topic of our choosing. To get us used to using the studio… and for us to get to know each other, I suppose.”

“You’re an art student?”

Shit, she thinks, she should probably be more careful about how much information she drops. She only knows the guy’s surname, yet she’s minutes away from telling him her whole life story.

The red man turns to green, and home is now just minutes away.

“I am, yeah. Are you a student?”

“Technically.”

“Technically?”

“I’m enrolled as a student,” Lockwood sighs, “but I lack the student mentality. I’m currently sitting in a coffee shop instead of a lecture.”

Lucy lets out a snort of laughter. “Bit of a rebel, are you?”

“Not really. Management Science”—he drawls the two words, and Lucy can immediately tell he’s not particularly fond of them—“just doesn’t interest me too much.”

“Management Science… Not to be rude, Lockwood, but that honestly sounds god-awful.”

“Oh, no, you’re spot on. It is.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Honestly, I wasn’t quite sure what else to do. Going into a full-time job sounds like hell, and I’d already taken a gap year. A management course is solid enough to keep nosey people off my back, but vague enough so that I’m not trying to squeeze myself into a specific path, if that makes sense?”

“I get that,” Lucy finds herself nodding; the pressure of having to decide her future at such a young age isn’t unfamiliar to her, and the only reason she’d dared to take a leap and move to London for art school in the first place was that it finally gave her an excuse to move out of her suffocating childhood home.

“Who is Skull?” Lockwood then says, abruptly swerving the topic of conversation and startling Lucy so much that she has to rack her brain to work out why he’s asking.

“Oh,” she says after a moment, “he’s my cat. Cheeky little bastard knocked my phone off the kitchen counter and smashed it to bits.”

Lockwood laughs again, and Lucy is irritated to find that she enjoys hearing it.

“Why that name?”

“He has white splotches on his face, and I used my incredible artistic brain to interpret it as a skull.”

There’s that laugh again. Lucy’s face burns as she enters her block of flats and hauls herself up the first flight of stairs.

“Skull keeps you on your toes, then?”

“He sure does. He knows what he’s doing, I’m dead sure of it. He lives to cause chaos and disruption, and—”

“Ah, I’m so sorry Lucy, my sister’s calling. I should take that.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.” She pulls her phone down to glance at the time stamp on the screen and finds the call’s lasted much longer than she intended. “I started rambling again, sorry. I don’t want to keep you.”

“No, no, it’s alright. This was much more interesting than a lecture or listening to coffee shop music.”

“Glad to hear I’m a good source of entertainment.”

“I really do have to take this call. Take care, Lucy.”

“You too.”

Click.

Lucy finds herself standing on the second-floor landing, staring into space, with a strange empty feeling inside of her. She looks down at her phone, seeing the one, lone phone number in her recent calls. It must be one or two digits off of Holly’s, she thinks. It looks too familiar.

“Why are you staring at your phone like that?” a snooty voice says in front of her. It’s nothing like Lockwood’s voice—where his is smooth, calm, and comforting, Quill Kipps’ is harsh, uppity, and pretentious.

“None of your business,” she looks up at him, where he’s stood locking the door to his flat. The jangling of his keys is muffled as he shoves them in the pocket of his expensive-looking plaid coat.

“No, it’s not, but I’m so thoroughly invested in the life of my neighbour Susie Carlyle that I must know anyway.”

“It’s Lucy.”

“Same thing.”

“If you must know,” she says, beginning her ascent up the next flight of stairs, “I mistyped Holly’s number and called a posh-sounding guy instead. Probably goes to your pretentious uni.” Inwardly, she apologises to Lockwood for grouping him in with Kipps, then scolds herself for doing it. Lockwood doesn’t care, he barely knows her. She doesn’t care either, of course, she has many more important things to be focusing her attention on.

“Good to know. Have a lovely evening, Susie.”

With a swish of his coat and a flick of a scarf, Kipps descends the stairs and is gone.

“I’ve missed you too, you little idiot,” Lucy stoops down to scratch Skull under the chin after closing the door behind her, though he quickly turns and feigns disinterest, clearly wanting to avoid showing her too much affection.

“Lucy, you’re back!” Holly Munro calls from the kitchen. Lucy gets a whiff of whatever she’s cooking—she doesn’t know what it is, but it smells… healthy—and pointedly avoids breathing through her nose for a while.

“I am,” she calls back, dumping her bag onto the settee and leaning against the entrance to the kitchen. “What does your phone number end in?”

“An eight,” Holly says, sprinkling seasoning onto her food in a swift, well-practised manner. Lucy wonders if she has any instant noodles left in the cupboard.

“Ah. Did you know there’s a guy who has the same number as yours but with a nine at the end? And he also lives in London?”

“I… did not know that, no. I’m assuming you discovered that today?”

“I did. He seems like a decent guy, actually.”

Holly stops moving, and her eyes snap up to meet Lucy’s.

“Lucy Carlyle, are you telling me you spoke to a man and enjoyed it?”

“‘Enjoyed’ is a stretch,” Lucy avoids eye contact; the sticky notes on their fridge suddenly look very interesting, “but it wasn’t awful.”

“You’re sure he isn’t some fifty-year-old creep, though, right?”

“If he is, he’s insanely skilled at making his voice sound young. He speaks like you, though.”

“Like me?”

“The accent,” she vaguely waves a hand in circles in front of her, trying to remember the term. “The dead posh one.”

“RP?”

“Yeah, that’s it. RP.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Holly frowns.

“It’s not when it’s you.” She pauses. “Or Lockwood.”

The squeal that comes from Holly’s mouth is almost superhuman, and Skull, who had been grazing from his bowl of food nearby, quickly scarpers out of the kitchen in shock.

“Lucy Joan Carlyle, tell me everything.”

end note: for anyone not used to British uni terms, Freshers' week is the week before courses start at a university, where all the new first years are given many opportunities to mingle with their fellow students and, to put it simply, get shitfaced. I imagine Lucy didn't make that many friends over that week, but definitely took advantage of all the alcohol on offer.

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood & co fic #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #locklyle #czenzo.fic #misdial

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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years ago

Text

The Reward of Suffering

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Summary: A retelling of the events of season 12 episode 13.

Gif credit to the wonderful and talented @imagining-in-the-margins

A/N: After several months of contemplation, I have finally decided to post part one of my first ever fic on Tumblr! This fic will follow the event of Spencer’s prison arc, so needless to say there will be SPOILERS. This first part is super long, but I felt that it needed to be in order to set up the plot. I hope you all enjoy reading! If you would like to be tagged on future updates, let me know!

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem! Reader

Warnings: no smut (yet), mentions of past frug use, cursing, typical CM case talk

Word count: 12.1k

“Reid is in jail.”

I felt the color immediately drain from my face and an intense feeling of dread began to wash through my body. I sat up in my chair, back ramrod straight. I briefly looked towards the faces of my teammates, Luke and JJ to my left and Penelope to my right. Their faces were all contorted, displaying varying degrees of shock and confusion. It was hard for any of us to process what we were hearing. The idea of Spencer Reid, the same Spencer who wore a mask to the office on Halloween and put on elaborate magic shows for everyone’s children, doing anything that would warrant being put behind bars was preposterous.

Surely, this is all just a big misunderstanding.

“Jail?” Penelope squeaked out. My eyes flitted to her, taking note of the way her eyebrows were drawn together in disbelief. She was thinking the same thing I’m sure we all were; that there was no way Spencer Reid had engaged in any illegal activity. Spencer was a well-educated, highly regarded FBI agent, for Christ sake. He knew the laws of the land better than any of us.

“In Mexico.”

My attention focused solely on Emily. In the few weeks since I had come to know her, I had begun to look at her not only as a sort of fearless leader, but also as a kind of fiercely loyal friend that I was incredibly lucky to have. Emily somehow managed to find the perfect balance between being accommodating and stern. She was the kind of boss you could have a drink and cut up with after a long day, but she also carried herself in a way that demanded the utmost respect in the workplace. Emily Prentiss’s bravery was unmatched, and I admired her for that.

It shook me to my core when her eyes met mine and I saw the pure, unbridled fear in them. If Emily was scared, then this must be leagues worse than we could have ever imagined.

“What the hell is he doing down there?” JJ asked, crossing her arms and shuffling from one foot to the other.

“I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him. The call came in to Cruz from their lead investigator.”

Luke was the next to chime in. “What’s he being held for?”

“Drug possession,” Rossi said, before taking on, “with intent to distribute.”

For the second time that day, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Images of Spencer sitting across from me in a dimly lit coffee shop, tripping over his words as he confided in me, spilling his deepest and darkest secrets in a voice barely above a whisper. His voice had grown stronger as he neared the end of his story and he had dug deep in his satchel, producing a small golden coin. We both had tears in our eyes as we looked at the writing engraved into the coin; unity, service recovery. Spencer Reid was ten years sober, and the pride on his face was as clear as day.

There was no way he would throw all of that away.

“What type of drugs?”

“Cocaine and heroin,” Rossi said, his voice shaky.

Rossi and Spencer had always had a good relationship. Spencer had admired his work long before he met him, having read and reread every book he had ever published. It had delighted Spencer that he and Rossi had managed to develop rapport so quickly. Rossi was the only one talented enough at the game of chess to even think of giving Spencer a run for his money, though many of us had tried. In one of many hushed conversations shared on the jet, he had once told me that he had begun to think of Rossi as somewhat of a father figure; he didn’t quite fill the role in the same way Gideon had, but Spencer was thankful just the same. One look at Rossi’s troubled expression was enough to tell me that the feelings were definitely mutual.

“Oh my God. This can’t be happening.” JJ was positively crestfallen, clutching a hand against her own chest in an attempt to ground herself. Her other hand came up to her face as she absentmindedly pushed her hair away.

“We need Lewis and Walker here, ASAP,” Emily directed her order and Penelope, who was quick to comply.

Everyone sprang into action, but I found myself unable to move, weighed down by the deeply unsettling circumstance. It felt as if I was no longer in my own body, like I was watching everything unfold from an outsider’s perspective. Maybe I am, I thought. Maybe this is all just some horrible nightmare. Any second now, my alarm will go off and this will all be over.

I waited and waited for my alarm to sound, but that never happened. Instead, Emily crouched down in front of me, grasping my arm firmly in her right hand.

“I know how devastated you must be. Trust me, I do,” she sympathized, her deep brown eyes boring into my own. “But Reid’s going to need you now more than ever. You’re his best friend and you know him better than anyone. Did he ever mention to you that he was going to Mexico?”

I shook my head numbly, my motions feeling alien and stilted.

“Never. He told me the same thing he told you; that he was going to Houston for a few days to meet with his mother’s doctor,” I whispered. I feared that if I raised my voice any higher, tears would begin to fall. Maintaining my composure was becoming harder with every passing second, and I wasn’t exactly privy to breaking down in front of my boss. “I guess I don’t know him as well as I thought.”

Emily sighed, letting go of my arm before straightening up.

“Apparently, none of us did. But I know damn well that this has to be a mistake. We’ll get him out of this.”

The apprehension in her voice told me that even she wasn’t sure we could pull this one off.

“This has got to be Scratch,” Tara stated, her voice wafting through the speakers of Luke’s laptop. Emily, Rossi, Luke and I were currently in the jet, on our way to the jail where Spencer was being held. All of us were huddled close together around the computer, listening on with eager ears. “He was laying low, and now we know why.”

“Crossing the border as a fugitive is a huge risk,” Luke pointed out.

“The reward is even greater. He’s been punishing the team, and now his target is Reid.” Emily’s voice was full of frustration and contempt.

“Peter Lewis dropped off the map after attacking Tara’s family,” Stephen chimed in. Not even his deep baritone voice could do anything to calm my frazzled nerves. “Maybe he’s been hiding in Mexico this whole time.”

“We also have to consider that it isn’t related to him,” I murmured. Several pairs of eyes locked on me, shocked. I had been uncharacteristically quiet since this whole ordeal began, limiting my responses to one word replies and hums of acknowledgement. On a normal day, I’d be throwing in my two cents any time I saw fit. Today, I was struggling just to keep breathing.

“Who else would it be?” Rossi asked.

“Drug cartels. Could’ve threatened Reid and used him as a mule.” Saying his name was painful, because it reminded me that we weren’t just talking about a victim with whom we had no personal ties; we were talking about our colleague and beloved friend.

“Agreed,” Rossi nodded. “This could simply be a case of bad luck. Reid was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Spencer’s mom is okay.” JJ’s announcement was like music to my ears. I let out an audible sigh of relief. “The home nurse he hired said all is stable.”

“How long did he tell the nurse he’d be gone?”

“Three days.”

“That sounds reasonable. After the Palm Springs case, Reid said he had to get back to Houston to talk to his mom’s doctor,” Emily interjected. I nodded along in agreement. He’d told me the same thing when I talked to him the night before last.

The fatigue in his voice had alerted me to the fact that things hadn’t been going so well with his mother. Her condition had been rapidly deteriorating in the recent months, prompting Spencer to make the tough decision to remove her from the assisted living facility she was at and into his own apartment. His main argument had been that no one could possibly take better care of his mother that him; that he was familiar with her condition and how best to respond when she had an episode. When I had asked him how he was handling it all, he was quick to reassure me that it was not anything he couldn’t handle.

Spencer’s loyalty ran deep; so deep that I knew he would do anything in his power to take care of Diana, but I’d never imagined that it would land him in fucking jail.

“Well, Houston is only a five-hour drive from the border,” Tara mused. “The question is, why did he go down there?”

“And why does he have narcotics?” Rossi was the first to speak on what was at the forefront of everyone’s mind.

“Yeah, exactly. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t do that. Those drugs were planted on him,” Penelope insisted.

“Absolutely, but there’s something bigger in play. That’s why he crossed the border and kept it a secret. There’s something he didn’t want to share with any of you.”

I cringed at Stephen’s choice of wording. Spencer and I were as close as two people could be, and there was nothing I withheld from him. He knew everything about me, every dark and embarrassing thought that had ever crossed my mind; yet, he accepted me just the same. I had always assumed that it went both ways, that he was just as honest and forthcoming with me as I was with him. It hurt to know that there were things he kept from me, secrets that he felt he couldn’t trust me with.

But most of all, it absolutely gutted me to think that he was dealing with something so horrible that it landed him in jail, and he that he had to do it all alone.

“Okay, so what would make him risk everything?” Emily pondered aloud.

“His mom.” My answer was instantaneous.

A ping sounded from the other end of the video call, and we all leaning in, our interest piqued.

“Cruz just sent me the arresting report,” Penelope announced, clicking away at her computer before continuing. “It says here that Reid was involved in a high-speed chase.”

“What?” I choked out, my voice coming out several pitches higher than usual. “Spencer hardly ever drives.” I could feel my stomach begin to churn, bile threatening to force its way up my esophagus. This isn’t right, I wanted to scream. Our Spencer would never get himself involved in something that would put himself or others at risk.

“None of this sounds like him,” Penelope whispered, her thoughts mimicking my own. “It says he was wearing jeans and a baseball cap and that he was really confused. According to the arresting officer, he was really high on something.”

Unity, service, respect; ten years sober. All down the fucking drain.

I shot up from my seat, bolting down the walkway and into the bathroom. I immediately fell to my knees, barely managing to push my hair out of the way before retching into the toilet bowl. I continued like this for several minutes, only pausing momentarily when I felt large, soothing hands running up and down my back. Soft murmurings of reassurance alerted me to the fact that it was Luke who was sitting with me. I let out a strained ‘thank you’ before another wave of nausea hit me, rendering me speechless. Luke held my hair back, never once leaving my side.

When I had thrown up the entirety of my breakfast and all I could do was dry heave, I slumped back against the wall, relishing in how cool it felt against my flushed skin. A stretch of silence passed before he decided to break it.

“That was an extreme reaction,” Luke pointed out, still sitting in the floor with his legs crisscrossed. I noticed how closely he was watching me, his eyes focused on reading my expressions. He was profiling me, that much was obvious. It was an unspoken rule between us all that we would never profile one another, but any fight I had left in me had long since dissipated.

“He worked so hard to get clean, Luke. I wasn’t around when it happened, but he told me about it. He was so proud of himself,” I whispered. My throat was now raw and my voice came out more than a little bit hoarse.

Luke’s eyebrows came together, confusion clear on his face.

“Get clean? What are you talking about?”

I let out a shuddery breath. It felt wrong to divulge information on Spencer’s personal life; like I was betraying his trust. Given the circumstance, I supposed he wouldn’t mind, but it still felt treacherous and left a bad taste in my mouth. Sorry, Spence.

“Ten years ago, Reid was kidnapped by an unsub with DID. He kept him in a remote cabin for several days, alternating between beating him senseless and shooting him full of so much hydromorphone that he couldn’t remember his own name. At one point, he even,” I trailed off, hot tears spilling out of my eyes and running down my cheeks. Luke took my hand in his in an act of reassurance, his way of telling me not to rush. Luke hadn’t been with us for long, and our interactions thus far hadn’t gone much farther than conversations about work. Seeing the way he was offering himself up to me as a confidant and shoulder to cry on made me feel guilty for ever having written him off.

Thank God for Luke Alvez.

After a long pause, I managed to continue. “Spencer ended up having a seizure and he died for several minutes. The unsub’s more benevolent personality, Tobias, was able to resuscitate him. Eventually Spencer was able to take him down, but the trauma mixed with the exposure to such a highly addictive drug led to him developing a dependence on it.”

Luke swore and ran a hand through his hair.

“I never would’ve guessed it. The kid carries himself so well.”

A small, fond smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

“He’s amazing, really. He detoxed all by himself and started going to NA meetings. This past October marked ten years. We celebrated by going to one of those really fancy museums he likes and he insisted on taking the guided tour so that he could see how many errors the guide would make,” I let out a light laugh at the memory. “Every time they’d get something wrong, he’d lean down whisper the correct information so that only I could hear it. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that happy,” I reminisced, allowing myself to forget about the current situation for the tiniest of moments. I wondered if I’d ever get to experience a day like that with Spencer ever again.

“You two are close, I take it?”

I nodded. Luke had fit in with the group so seamlessly that I had forgotten that he had only been with us for a short time. He didn’t really know the dynamics of everything yet.

“He’s my best friend.”

Luke hummed, and I could feel his eyes looking at me inquisitively.

“And that boyfriend of yours, he doesn’t mind?” Okay, maybe Luke was a little bit more perceptive than he let on.

Gavin and I had begun dating at the end of my first year with the BAU. He and I had meet in the most cliché of ways; bumping into each other in the cereal aisle at the grocery store. Gavin was more than a little bit handsome, but what had reeled me in had been the way he taken one look at the box of cereal in my cart and immediately scrunched his nose up in disgust.

“Plain Cheerios? Are you some sort of masochist, or something?” he had asked, a playful lilt to his voice. Normally, if a strange man had approached me in public, I would’ve been quick to express my disinterest. If my job had taught me anything, it was that a woman being approached by a strange man was a recipe for trouble. But something about him seemed wholly unthreatening, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his forwardness, raising an eyebrow at him.

“As if your choice is any better. Lucky Charms? What are you, six?”

“Don’t even go there. Lucky Charms are magically delicious, thank you very much,” he sniffed, feigning superiority. “And if we’re touching on the subject of age, the only person I know that eats plain Cheerios is my eighty-six-year-old grandmother. You look a bit young to be worrying about heart health, and I refuse to believe that you actually enjoy the taste, so what gives?”

“First of all, I find it concerning that you are so familiar with cereal slogans,” I breezed, leaning against my shopping cart. “Second, I am curious; do you make it a habit to harass people about their cereal preferences?”

“Only if they’re cute.”

And that had been that. Several dates later he had asked me to be his girlfriend over a dinner he had attempted to make himself. I said yes and he kissed me, nearly knocking over his plate of burnt chicken parmesan in the process.

“We, uh, have an understanding. He knows that Spencer and I are just good friends.”

Gavin and I did have an understanding, but it wasn’t a very solid one. In fact, I was sure that he damn near despised Spencer’s very existence. He had done a good job at hiding it for a while, but after coming home one night from an impromptu movie night with Spencer, he had revealed to me that he had a jealous streak a mile long. I reassured him that there was absolutely nothing that he needed to worry about, but I could tell he didn’t believe a word of it. Gavin had out flat demanded that I cut all ties with Spencer, and I had laughed in his face.

“I’m not the kind of girl that likes to be told what to do. Either you learn to live with him being a part of my life, or you can find someone else to boss around, because I can tell you right now, that won’t fly with me.”

My threat had proven to be effective, and he had apologized, and that had been the end of that. He still wasn’t fond of the idea that Spencer and I were such close friends, but he hadn’t tried to proposition me with any more ridiculous ultimatums.

“That’s good to hear,” Luke hummed, squeezing my hand before rising to his feet. I could tell that he didn’t necessarily buy into what I was saying, but I was thankful that he didn’t press it any further. “What do you say we go back out there. We’ve got to be getting close by now.”

I nodded and he helped me to my feet. I bent down to the faucet, swishing some water in my mouth before spitting it out.

When Luke and I returned to our seats, I was immediately aware of the way Rossi and Emily were eyeing me; like I was a delicate thing that needed to be handled with kid gloves.

I absolutely hated it.

“Sorry about that. It won’t happen again,” I said, before turning my attention back to the video call and saying, “so, what did we miss?”

The police station was surprisingly small. The hallways were narrow and the light bulbs above me gave off an almost green tint, casting an eerie glow on the place. The sounds of disgruntled detainees calling out drifted through the hallways, sounding akin to the moaning of a ghost. My eyes darted around constantly as we walked, the uneasy feeling in my stomach growing with every step we took towards the heart of the precinct.

“Thank you for calling us.” Emily’s words were directed at the police officer, Chief Castenada, who was leading us down the hall. He was a short man with graying hair and a seemingly permanent frown etched into his face. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that he wasn’t happy that four federal agents were in his jail.

“A U.S. fed in our custody isn’t something we see every day,” the man said, his tone entirely unfriendly. I grimaced.

“Have you gotten any of his tox screen panels back yet?” I prodded, quickening the pace of my strides until I was walking alongside him. He looked down at me like I was a pesky gnat that he wanted to bat away.

“No.”

Color me unsurprised.

“You’ll need to expedite that. We have cause to believe that Doctor Reid was drugged.”

“He was definitely high and driving like a bat out of Hell. Not to mention he had $20,000 worth of heroin in his possession,” he sneered, ceasing to walk and staring down at me with distaste. “Both of which put my officers at risk. You’re in our jurisdiction. Don’t forget that. The rules are different here.”

I opened my mouth, ready to fire back with some smart-assery of my own, but a hand at my elbow stopped me. I turned and saw that it was Luke, who nodded his head to the left of us. I looked in the direction he was referring to, and I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.

Just up ahead was a holding cell with several poorly constructed benches in the center of it. On the very first row of seats sat Spencer, who had seemingly retreated in to himself. He was hunched over, his arms wrapped pitifully around himself, much like you’d imagine a child might do to keep warm. Spencer’s clothes were tattered and dirty and a bandage adorned his right hand. His usually beautiful chestnut curls were flying around his head in a mess of tangles and dirt. Despite the fact that Spencer towered over most of us, I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly small he looked.

Even as awful as he looked in his current state, a direct contradiction of the way he usually presented himself, I’d never been happier to lay my eyes on someone in my life.

My feet carried me forward before my brain had time to catch up. I closed the distance between me and the cell, pausing and taking a good, long look at him before allowing myself to speak. He hadn’t noticed me standing there yet. His gaze was instead trained on something at the other end of the room, his eyes red rimmed and glassy and his face completely slack.

“Spence?” I called out, the nickname falling from my lips like a prayer. In a way I suppose it was; a prayer that he was alright, that the horrible things Penelope had told us about were nothing but a horrible lie. At first, I was worried that he hadn’t heard me or that he was too out of his mind to even register the sound of my voice. Just when I opened my mouth to speak again, he turned his head in way that I would have described as comically slow if the situation hadn’t been so serious. The spacey look in his eyes told me that my prayers wouldn’t be answered.

Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, but his face remained completely blank, devoid of all expression. I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, until it hit me like a ton of bricks; he had no clue who I was.

I wanted to be mad. I wanted to scream at him, to ask him how could he forget me, of all people. My anger was irrational and unfair, but I couldn’t help it. While I understood that it was no fault of his own, that the drugs coursing through his veins were to blame, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I swallowed down the emotions that threatened to spill out, pushing them down into the depths of my being. I couldn’t let my emotional attachment hinder my judgment. I needed to be as vigilant as ever, no, more vigilant. The fate of my favorite person in the whole world depended on it.

“It’s me, Y/N,” I explained, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage. “It’s good to see you, Spencer. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

He watched me for a moment before standing and making his way to where I was leaning against the bars.

“Y/N,” Spencer murmured when he reached me, as if testing my name out to see how it rolled off of his tongue. His stare was still vacant, but having him in front of me after worrying about his wellbeing for the last five hours was more than enough for now. I’d take him however I could have him. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, we came,” I murmured, my eyes raking over every inch of his body for any signs of distress. Other than the bandage on his hand, he seemed to be in one piece.

Rossi was quick to join me, coming to a stop at my left.

“We’re going to get you out of here, kid,” he reassured, his tone more serious than I’d ever heard it.

“We need to work out some details with the locals, okay?” Emily said, waiting for a response but getting none.

“Who was your contact down here?” Luke asked.

Spencer was quicker to respond this time.

“Rosa,” he mumbled as he grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled it up. On his inner arm, the name Rosa Medina was written in what was undoubtably his own handwriting. Spencer was notorious around the office for having the worst handwriting. I like to blame it on the fact that he was a doctor, which always elicited a laugh from him. “I think she’s a doctor.”

Luke pulled his phone out from his pocket, snapping a picture of the name.

“Where did you meet her?”

Spencer shook his head and a frown pulled down at the corner of his lips.

“I… I don’t remember.”

“If you saw her, would you remember her?”

Spencer nodded in affirmation.

“You’re missing time, aren’t you?” I asked, causing him to look at me once more. His brows furrowed together and he was nodding again, slightly surer of himself this time.

“It’s peeking out. It’s coming in flashes.”

“And you’ve been drugged?”

I didn’t know it was possible for his face to fall any more, but the look of shame that manifested itself when he registered my words was absolutely heartbreaking.

“Yeah, but I didn’t take it myself,” he insisted, a spark of life burning bright in the depths of his eyes. Somewhere in there, under the haze of narcotics, was the same Spencer that had fought tooth and nail for his sobriety all those years ago. My heart broke for him.

“Of course, you didn’t, Spence. We know that,” I said, almost reaching out to touch him before thinking better of it. “We’re thinking it might be Scratch.”

Just like before, when I had first spoken to him, absolutely no sign of recognition showed itself on his face.

“Scratch,” he muttered detachedly, much the same as before.

Luke’s phone rang then and he excused himself for a moment before stepping away. I looked to Rossi and Emily, who seemed to also be at a loss for words. The silence that filled the room was excruciating, and I once again started to feel like the walls were closing in on me. I wanted nothing more than to scream, to cry out in frustration. The whole situation was unfair in a way that I didn’t think was possible. I was a big believer in karma; put good in and get good out, or something like that. But now, standing outside of a holding cell that looked more like a dungeon than anything, I was ready to throw away that belief entirely.

Of all the people that I know, Spencer was the least deserving of something like this.

Just when I began to consider ducking outside for a breath of fresh air, Luke returned.

“Hey, the team sent this. Is this the doctor you met?” he asked, pointing to a picture of a woman he had pulled up on his phone. The woman was of Mexican descent, with short, choppy gray hair. She appeared to be middle aged, from what I could guess.

Spencer stared at the picture before nodding.

“Her alias is Rosa Medina and her real name is Nadi Ramos. Garcia tracked her to a motel just outside of town. Does that sound familiar?”

Spencer’s brows furrowed and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll need to take Castenada and his officers with us,” Emily announced, before turning and heading towards the door.

“Do you want company here?” Rossi asked.

Spencer seemed to take a moment to process before answering with an almost imperceptible nod. He turned his head and focused his gaze on me.

“Can… Can you stay?”

Rossi turned to face me too, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘are you okay with this?’ I gave him what I hoped was a convincing smile. Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure that I could handle this; the this that I am referring to being a nearly catatonic Spencer Reid. I was used to the Spencer who regaled me with interesting tidbits of information whenever there was a lull in conversation. The Spencer that stood before me now was a shell of his former self, and that terrified me.

“I’ll be fine here. Let me know if you guys find anything,” I told Rossi. He nodded once to me before enveloping me in a tight hug.

“Resta forte mia piccolo colomba,” Rossi murmured in my ear. I hadn’t a clue what the phrase meant, but the words draped over me like a warm blanket. Suddenly the weight of the current situation didn’t seem so heavy, and I felt immensely thankful that a man like David Rossi was in my life.

Rossi pressed his lips to the top of my head before releasing me. He gave one last, despairing look to Spencer before hurrying off after Luke and Emily. It could’ve been the light playing tricks on me, or maybe the exhaustion, but when Rossi turned away from us, I swear I saw tears welling in his eyes.

And then there were two.

I took glance at my watch for the first time all day, cringing when I saw the time to be 8:17PM. Quantico was an hour ahead, meaning Gavin was probably losing his shit wondering where I was. I sighed, fishing my phone out of my back pocket and turning it on.

“Spence, I’m going to make a phone call really quick,” I murmured. He offered no reply, just as I had come to expect. He was watching me, standing stock still in the same place he had been the entire time. I moved to stand in the doorway, hopefully far enough away that he couldn’t hear me anymore.

As soon as my phone booted up, a plethora of notifications came through. Seventeen missed calls and twenty-four unread text messages, to be exact. I decided to forgo reading the messages, instead pressing the return call button and tapping my foot anxiously against the floor. Gavin didn’t keep me waiting long, picking up on the very first ring.

“About time you answer your goddamn phone,” he hissed out. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? I even called your office phone and no one would answer that, either. What the fuck is going on? Where are you?”

“I’m… In Mexico.”

A long pause followed and I held my breath, waiting for the onslaught to begin.

“You left the country without even bothering to tell me?” Gavin asked, his voice raising in volume. I could picture him now; probably sitting on our sofa, fists balled together and jaw clenched. “Would you like to enlighten me as to why you’re in Mexico?”

I closed my eyes, frustration bubbling deep inside me. Today was arguably the shittiest day of my entire life, and I certainly didn’t need Gavin harping on about how I hadn’t been in touch. Honestly, informing him of my whereabouts had been the furthest thing from my mind.

“It’s Spencer,” I began, trying to think of the proper way to word it all. “He got into some… trouble. We think he’s being framed by Scratch.”

“Isn’t that the guy that just went after Tara’s family?”

“Yeah, it is. He’s been laying low for the past few months, and I guess he was just building up to all of this. It’s really bad, Gav,” I whispered the last bit, hoping that Spencer couldn’t hear me. If he did, he made no move that indicated it. “He’s high out of his mind and can’t remember anything.”

“How long will you guys be there?” Gavin asked, completely ignoring the fact that I mentioned Spencer at all. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from saying something I might regret. I understand that he doesn’t like the guy, but he could show some common decency and at least pretend.

“I’m not entirely sure. Rossi, Emily, and Luke just headed out to go check on a lead. I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

“Wait, so, where are you?”

“I’m at the jail with Spencer, why?” I inquired, running my hand through my hair and absentmindedly combing out the knots that had formed. I was sure that I looked a right mess, but I couldn’t be too bothered to care.

“Let me get this straight. They left you alone with a guy who is wasted on God knows what, not knowing how he’ll react to it?” A bitter laugh flowed through the phone speaker. “Sounds like you don’t exactly work with the smartest bunch. What if he tries to attack you or something?”

I let his words hang in the air for a moment, unable to formulate a reply that wasn’t something like you’re being an absolute fucking dick bag right now. No, I was a grown woman and I was going to communicate like one, despite the fact that his ignorant reply was making me shake with rage.

“The first thing I’m going to address is the fact that this is not some guy. We’re talking about my best friend and teammate, and his name is Spencer. Use it,” I said through gritted teeth. “The second thing is that he’s not some wild animal. He’s not going to try to come through the bars and pounce on me. What he’s going through right now is traumatic, and he doesn’t need to be left alone right now. Show some compassion.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m sorry,” Gavin muttered. It was the most unapologetic apology I’d ever heard in my life, prompting me to roll my eyes. I don’t understand how I can love someone and want to throttle them simultaneously. “I’m just worried about you, is all. How are you holding up?”

“I’m as good as can be expected,” I sighed, bringing my free hand up to rub at my eyes. “I’m just tired of watching this guy terrorize all of my friends. First, he takes Hotch from us, then he nearly kills Tara’s brother, and now this. I’m beginning to think we’ll never catch a break.”

“I know you’re tired, baby. Just try to hang on a little bit longer. As much as I question some of their decisions, your team is good at what they do. You guys will catch him. I have faith in you.”

There it is. That’s the Gavin that I fell in love with.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “It’s been a long day and I needed to hear that.” I cast a glance back at Spencer, who was now staring down at his bandaged hand, an indiscernible expression on his face. He looked so lost, standing all alone in the grimy holding cell. The lights cast shadows on his face, making his already angular face look gaunt. The Spencer I knew was the human embodiment of light; filling up every room he was in with his delightfully idiosyncratic presence. The Spencer in the cell was so shrouded in darkness that the room seemed to be swallowing him whole, taking his brilliance and crushing it into smithereens.

“Gav, I think I need to get back in there.”

“Yeah, alright. Just keep me in the loop this time, please. I don’t like not knowing where my girlfriend is.”

“I’ll make sure to check in whenever I can,” I promised, before tacking on a, “love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I pocketed my phone with hands that shook, no longer from rage but from apprehension. I liked to think that I was good at my job. I had done well at the academy; not well enough to have graduated at the top of my class, but I did manage to be in the top ten. After lucking into the job of a lifetime, I had fully committed myself to learning to be the best profiler I could possibly be. Two years of piecing together the innerworkings of criminal minds had taught me more than I ever could have imagined about the human psyche. I had talked many a deranged psychopath down from the ledge, and I had saved more than a few lives along the way. Unfortunately, not all cases can end favorably. Those are the ones that taught me the most.

For all that I learned, nothing could’ve prepared me to deal with the shell of a man that stood before me.

I was standing in front of him now, fiddling nervously with my hands. When Spencer had originally told me about his battle with addiction, I had taken it upon myself to do some research of my own. I wanted to be able to identify the signs, God forbid he ever relapse. While conducting my research, I had read somewhere that the best way to support someone during a come down is by remaining positive and creating a calm, safe environment.

I was currently the antithesis of calm, but for Spencer’s sake, I was going to do my best.

I took a step forward and offered him a small smile.

“I’ve never seen you in jeans and boots before,” I said. I was proud of myself when the words came out sounding relatively casual. “It’s a good look on you, but I have to admit I prefer the academic look. I suppose it’s the sapiosexual in me.”

He gave no response, but the tinniest tug at the corner of his mouth told me that he found my comment amusing.

I let my eyes drag over him again and I fixated on the bandage on his right hand, frowning.

“Do you remember what happened to your hand?”

Spencer raised his hand up, absentmindedly flipping it over and inspecting it.

“I don’t know,” he murmured. Spencer’s usually high pitched voice came out gravely, no doubt a byproduct of dehydration related to the drugs. My eyes skimmed across the holding cell and I frowned when I saw no water fountain in sight.

“M’ gonna go get you some water, okay?” I turned away and pivoted on my heel, taking one step before a hand wrapped around my upper arm. I spun around so fast I nearly caught whiplash.

Spencer’s eyes were wide and full of panic, conveying more emotion than he’d had since we’d arrived. His eyebrows were drawn together as well, contorting his face into a pitiful expression.

“Don’t go,” he rasped, his hand still firmly grasping my arm. “Please.”

The hopelessness in his voice was like a dagger through my heart. I nodded fervently and placed my hand over his, prompting him to loosen his grip. He did, and I took his hand in both of mine. I rubbed my thumbs over his skin, haphazardly tracing patterns in an attempt to calm him.

“Yeah, okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” I soothed, bringing his hand up to my mouth and placing a chaste kiss to the skin. “I’ve got you, Spence. It’s all going to be okay.”

The look of panic slowly washed away the longer we stood there. He held onto my hands like I was a lifeline, the only thing tethering him to the ground. While I longed for nothing more than to really embrace him, to pull all of him into my arms and hold on for dear life, the bars that separated us inhibited me from doing so. So instead I just relished in the feel of his hand intertwined with my own.

It would have to be enough for now.

Nadi Ramos was dead.

I didn’t have to ask Emily to know that the situation had gone from bad to absolutely fucking terrible. We knew Scratch was a horrendous individual; that much had been proved by his preferred modus operandi. We also knew that he had become fixated on taking down each of us one by one. He’d tried twice with Hotch, even going as far as to target his son, resulting in the two of them joining WITSEC for their own safety. The next blow had come when he had set his sights on Tara, or, more specifically, her brother. We’d gotten lucky with that one, having located and freed her brother just in the nick of time. After the incident with Tara’s brother, we all expected the next attack to come in quick succession. When several months passed with no sign of Scratch, we all became terribly on edge. No one was saying it, but we all were waiting to see which one of us would be next, crossing our fingers and hoping it wouldn’t be us.

I knew that none of us were exempt from Scratch’s wrath, but for some reason, I’d never imagined him targeting Spencer.

And target him he fucking did.

“We know you didn’t do this,” Emily spoke for the group, knowing good and well that we were all on the same page.

“How did it happen?” Spencer’s back was to us. His shoulders were slumped and his face downturned.

“She was stabbed multiple times. It looked personal,” Luke answered, his voice low and careful. It was obvious to us all that he was being extra careful with his wording, making sure to broach the subject carefully. We all knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Spencer was innocent; but that didn’t mean that Spencer did.

Chief Castenada trudged into the holding cell, the portrait of all things cranky and unpleasant. His presence acted as a proverbial storm cloud on an already shitty day.

“We got the results of your blood work. There’s cocaine and heroin in your system.”

“What else?” Emily asked, causing Castenada to give her a confused look.

“He was in possession of cocaine and heroin when he was arrested. I found what I needed.”

I felt myself bristle and before I knew it, my mouth was open and I was spouting out pure venom.

“Thanks so much for doing the bare minimum, but we’re going to need a full tox screen panel. We’re looking for scopolamine.”

Emily’s eyes cut over to me and if I hadn’t been fighting on Spencer’s behalf, I would’ve withered under the weight of the shut the fuck up look she gave me. Instead, I continued on, silently praying I’d still have a job after today.

“It’ll take longer, but we need it,” I explained in what I hoped was a slightly more accommodating tone. Castenada gave a curt nod in reply before exiting the room, grumbling something in Spanish that had Luke and Emily shooting daggers at his retreating figure.

“Do I want to know?”

Luke shook his head, shooting a small smile in my direction.

“Let’s just say he’s not your biggest fan, and we’ll leave it at that,” he offered, before straightening out his expression and turning back to Spencer. “You were given a speed ball. The opiates block the dopamine in your brain. That’s why things go from clear to hazy. The combination of the drugs causes a dissociative state and explains the memory loss. Are you coming down now?”

“I think so,” Spencer said. His cadence wasn’t as slow as it had been earlier, which was a relief.

“Do you think you could do a cognitive interview?” Emily’s voice was hopeful, and if Spencer was one thing, it was a people pleaser. It was obvious that he was overwhelmed; I had taken note of the fact that he was displaying one of his nervous ticks. Spencer was touching the pad of his thumb on the tips of his other fingers in rapid succession. Despite his obvious discomfort, he nodded his head in agreeance.

“I’ll try.”

Rossi took the lull in conversation as an opportunity to hold up the plastic bag in his hand. I narrowed my eyes at it inquisitively. There were five vials of a murky, dark brown liquid in the bag.

“There were five of these in your bag at the motel. Do you recognize them?”

Spencer’s eyes zeroed in on the bag and its contents, his brows furrowing. It wasn’t long until a look of partial recognition flashed across his face. It was so faint that if he hadn’t been in a room of profilers, it would’ve gone unnoticed.

“What is it?” I asked from my place at his side. He’d been somewhat clingy since the incident that had transpired while everyone was at the motel, gravitating towards me as soon as we all had been granted entrance to the holding cell. I knew that he needed familiarity right now; he was in a very vulnerable state and he needed something that made him feel safe and secure.

Butterflies erupted in my stomach when I had realized what he was doing, that I was that thing that made him feel safe and secure.

Spencer opened his mouth once before closing it, as if trying to put his thoughts into words was difficult. He did this a few more times before settling on,

“Whatever’s in those vials, I was giving it to my mom,” he said, his eyes darting around the room as he spoke. “That’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

“I’ll have them run it through the lab,” Rossi said, before leaving and heading towards the direction in which Castenada had retreated.

Emily and Luke were quick to hop into a rushed conversation, leaving only Spencer and I still in the cell. I looked up at him, at the way his forehead creased as he bit his lip in quiet contemplation.

“Are you sure you’re ready for a cognitive? I know the effects may be wearing off, but you’re gonna be cloudy for a while. If you don’t want to do it now, all you have to do is say the word,” I murmured, keeping my voice low so that only he could hear it. “I can tell that you’re a bit overwhelmed, and that’s okay.”

Spencer’s response came in the form of a shrug of his shoulders.

“I want to try, because I know it’s important. I just don’t know that it will be of much help,” he replied, casting his eyes down to me.

“Yes, it is important, but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. We’ll figure this out even if you can’t remember it all right now.”

Spencer nodded once before running his tongue across his chapped bottom lip.

“I don’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill her,” he whispered, barely audible. Even though his words were quiet, I could hear the desperation in them; almost as if he was begging me to believe them, begging himself to believe them.

I made the irrational decision then to throw professionalism aside and wrap both of my arms around his torso, my grip tight and assured. Spencer’s aversion to touch was common knowledge amongst us all, but for some reason that never seemed to apply to me, and I could see in his eyes that the way we were all treating him like he was fragile was wounding him more than he would ever admit. I hoped to remedy that with my embrace, and the speed in which he reciprocated was so fast that I was certain he was thankful. He wrapped his injured hand around my waist, the other finding purchase in my hair. I felt his chest move as he let out a shuddering breath.

“I know you didn’t, Spence. Everyone on the team knows you didn’t,” I reassured him, my words muffled as my face was pressed against his chest. “And we’re not going to stop until everyone else knows it, too.”

I was well aware that our embrace had garnered the attention of our teammates, but Spencer’s hold on me hadn’t faltered in the slightest, so I didn’t let mine either. Instead, I gripped the fabric of his flannel shirt tighter in my hands.

When Emily exited the room in which they had conducted the cognitive interview, the look on her face was grim. I visibly cringed at the sight as I felt the sliver of hope that I had left die a miserable death.

We are so beyond fucked.

“How’s he doing?” Rossi asked, obviously taking note of the distress on Emily’s face.

“He’s made some breakthroughs, but I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be,” she sighed, running a hand through her jet-black hair. When none of us spoke, Emily’s eyes flitted around, finally noticing that our expressions were a direct reflection of her own. “What is it?”

“They just charged Reid with the murder of Nadi Ramos.”

Hearing it said aloud wasn’t any easier the second time.

While the rest of us had taken it upon ourselves to lean against the cement walls, Luke had begun pacing down the short hallway. After about ten minutes of unbearable silence, he decided he’d had enough.

“We can’t get him out of here, can we?” he finally spoke, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

“I don’t know how.”

“He didn’t kill her,” I reiterated, speaking more to myself than the three of them.

“If all I had to go on was the evidence, I would swear he did,” Rossi sighed. I knew he was right; Spencer’s personal belongings were all over the hotel room, which was about as incriminating as you could get. “But knowing Reid, hearing the cognitive…”

“Yes, he said there was another person in that motel room, but,” Emily pressed play on the audio recording, and her voice proceeded to flow through the speakers.

“Who has the knife? Who is stabbing Rosa?”

“I don’t know. It’s in my hand.”

Emily pressed the power button and the screen went black.

“Right now, this is just more evidence against him.”

“So, what do we do now? Do we just sit and twiddle our thumbs until the consulate agrees to the extradition?” I asked. “There’s got to be more we can do. We can’t let them take him to jail, he won’t survive in there.”

“I called in some help from IRT. Clara Seger and Matt Simmons will be arriving at any moment,” Emily said, checking her phone after hearing it ping. “In fact, that would be them. They’re here.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as we all fell into step beside Emily. Having people from other areas of expertise that are willing to help is a good thing. Maybe they’ll be able to see something that we didn’t.

“We come bearing good news,” I announced, leading the group as we all entered the holding cell. Spencer was quick to turn around and the corners of his lips pulled upwards as he set his sights on all of us. “Back up is here.”

“Hey Spencer,” Matt greeted, offering up a small smile before crossing his arms across his chest.

“Hey,” Spencer replied, moving to stand up from his spot on the bench. He was still a little wobbly on his feet, but he was doing much better than he was when we had arrived. “Thank you for coming.”

“Yeah, of course. Jack and me are finishing up a case in Costa Rica, so we hopped on a commercial plane to get here,” Clara explained.

“We’re trying to stop you transfer to El Diablo.”

Spencer’s eyes darted over to me and he swallowed hard before speaking.

“Do you think it’s possible?” Hearing the hope in his voice tugged at my heart strings. The way that he could manage to stay optimistic at time like this was a true testament to his character.

“Yes,” Clara began. “Lab reports on the vials came back and some of what was in there hasn’t been approved by the FDA, but there aren’t any illegal substances.”

“That’s great news,” I sighed, letting out the breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

“Is there anything else you remember about your time here?”

“I remember what happened to the vials at home. My mom threw most of them out.”

“So, that’s why you were here. To get more,” Clara said in an attempt to clarify.

“It must be,” Spencer murmured, shuffling anxiously from one foot to the other.

“Well, you’re off the hook for that. There’s no contraband involved,” Matt announced. Okay, this is good. One less thing to worry about.

“Yeah, but we’re still looking at the planted drug and the murder charges, which could keep you here for a long time.”

“Can we do anything to delay the transfer?” I wondered aloud. Clara took into account what I said and sighed, before turning towards Spencer once again.

“You said that you met Nadi, who calls herself Rosa, in Houston. Why didn’t she just give you the vials in the U.S.?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer said, running his uninjured hand through his hair. “I don’t know, but she helped us and I trusted her. I was right to. I still believe that.”

“Well, she convinced you to cross the border multiple times. She had you risk your life,” Matt argued.

“Because she must have something to lose, too,” I mumbled, eliciting a series of fervent nods from Clara. “Family, maybe?”

“We need to know more about her,” Clara said.

And then, something glorious happened. It was like a switch had flipped inside of Spencer’s head, and all of the sudden the lights were back on. I could tell that he had been struck with an idea, and it was a wonderous sight to behold.

“What was in those vials?” Spencer asked, only solidifying my observation.

Matt produced a paper with the lab results and began reading off the results.

“There are so nootropic compounds like Ampalex, uh, but also some more natural stuff; coral calcium, jimson weed, coconut oil, a variety of vitamins. B12, D3-”

“Where are we right now?” Spencer interjected.

“Matamoros, Northern Mexico.”

“Jimson weed, otherwise known as the Devil’s Snare, originated in Mexico but its natural growing region is further north or south of the border,” Spencer said, his words flowing out rapidly. I felt my heart soar and I didn’t even try to suppress the smile that fought its way to my face.

“Boy Genius is back,” I announced, and for just a moment, the mood in the room lightened for the first time all day.

“So, if it isn’t from here, then were did she get it?” Clara asked.

“Let me get Garcia on,” Emily murmured, dialing the number and tapping her foot as it rang. On the third ring, Penelope’s bright and cheerful voice filled the room, a sunbeam shining through on a cloudy day.

“Please tell me you’re calling to tell me some good news.”

“Garcia, I have some questions for you.”

“Hey, Penelope,” Matt greeted, earning a pleasantly surprised gasp from the woman on the other end.

“Oh my God, it’s the dulcet tones of Matt Simmons,” Penelope gushed. “Are you there to save the day?”

“I’m trying. Clara’s here, too.” A relieved sigh floated through the speakers.

“Knowing we have you guys as backup is providing me some much-needed hope, and I work better this way.”

“Hey, lady,” Clara greeted. “We’re trying to catch up on a few things. Where is Nadi Ramos from?” Before Clara even managed to finish her sentence, the sound of Garcia’s acrylic nails tapping away at her keyboard could be heard.

“Mm she lives with her family just north of Matamoros.”

“That must be where she got the jimson weed,” Emily pointed out.

“What’s weird in she crosses the border, like, a lot.”

“Why?”

“Well, she works in Houston at that clinic, but she also helps at a low-income healthcare center. I can’t find a visa on her, which is double weird. And, in finishing the weird trifecta, there’s a social security number on her W2 form.”

“Social security? She’s an American citizen?” I asked. Matt confirmed my suspicions with a nod of his head.

“Yeah, she had dual citizenship. She was born in Houston, and her family had to move back to Mexico. She lives with them and she works in the U.S.”

“This changes everything. We need to talk to the consulate,” Emily stated.

Just as things were beginning to look up, Chief Castenada decided to grace us with his presence once more; and this time, he had an entourage.

“It’s time for his transfer,” Castenada announced, looking pointedly in my direction.

“We’ve had a break in the case,” Emily argued, shaking her head at him. “The victim was also American, and that calls for extradition.”

Castenada merely shrugged before walking past us all.

“I’ve got orders, sorry,” he muttered, making Gavin’s apology from earlier in the day sound heartfelt in comparison. Castenada wasted no time in beginning to place handcuffs on Spencer, locking them in place with a definitive click. Spencer and I shared a look of panic before both of us looked towards Emily in a silent plea.

One of the men roughly grabbed Spencer by the arm and led him from the room. I watched in horror as they led him away, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. I barely registered the fact that Emily was now on the phone. I just stood there, staring blankly at the entrance to the cell.

“With the victim having dual citizenship, we now have concurrent jurisdiction. It was my understanding that the official order to extradite SSA Spencer Reid would be evaluated,” Emily damn near snarled into the phone. She paused for a moment, listening to the voice on the other line, before a look of relief washed over her face. “I understand, thank you.” She promptly hung up the phone before turning to face Luke. “They’re taking it to their brass. Go get him.”

Luke took off in a rush, not needing to be told twice.

I only wished I could be there to see the look on Castenada’s face.

“We’re working on all channels here. Matt Cruz is on with the consulate right now. We could get an immediate extradition, but it’s just the beginning,” Emily explained, her voice stern.

Spencer regarded her with a weary expression. The drug induced haze had finally lifted, leaving him painfully aware of how dire the situation was.

“I really screwed up and I’m so sorry,” he choked out, resulting in a crack forming in Emily’s hard exterior. I couldn’t blame her; it wasn’t easy to stay mad at Spencer Reid. Spencer’s eyes were like kryptonite to most; big and brown and full of emotion. I’m sure if you searched ‘puppy dog eyes’ in the dictionary, a picture of Spencer Reid would be found in example.

“It was for the right reason.”

“I can’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill anyone.” It was obvious in the way that he kept repeating the words that he was desperate for us to believe him. No amount of calm reassurance from us could quell the voice in his head that was surely telling him that we thought him guilty.

“We do, too.”

Clara was first to enter the cell, immediately followed by Matt.

“Hey, they approved the extradition,” Clara announced, smiling brightly at the three of us.

“Effective immediately,” Matt added on.

We all exchanged relieved smiles before Matt and Clara led Spencer from the cell. Emily and I were quick to follow, right on Matt’s heels when we were stopped by Castenada.

“I must point out that I feel like justice isn’t exactly being served with this move.”

I pursed my lips together. In the short time we had been in Mexico, my feelings towards the man had grown from distaste to almost a full-blown hatred. That being said, I couldn’t help but understand where he was coming from. If Spencer hadn’t been a federal agent, he wouldn’t be granted the privilege of the extradition. Nor would he be allowed to fly home with us. I hated to admit it, but Castenada made a valid point.

“I understand, but I can assure you that this has gone to the highest ranks and there will be a full investigation,” Emily reassured him.

“Thank you for working with us,” I offered in an attempt to smooth over the rift I had created earlier. Now that my judgement wasn’t so clouded by my need to defend Spencer, I could see the error of my ways. I hadn’t been the most professional.

Castenada nodded once in my direction before turning his attention back to Emily.

“For our reports, I would like to have the recording of that cognitive interview.”

I felt my blood run cold. That interview would just add to the list of things that could be used against Spencer in court. He had openly admitted to holding the murder weapon in his own hands, an admission that would surely earn him twenty to life.

We cannot give him that recording.

Emily seemed to be on the same page as I was.

“I didn’t record it.”

Castenada’s face contorted into an ugly frown.

“But that was our agreement,” he squawked angrily.

“I determined he was still under the influence. Anything he said wouldn’t have clarified matters.”

Castenada’s gaze never faltered, eyeing Emily in an attempt to discern if she was giving him the run around. Luckily, Castenada was unable to find a hint of dishonesty on Emily’s face, and he nodded in resignation.

Years of profiling will teach you how to control your micro expressions.

“You’re committed agents. And I’ve worked with the IRT before. I trust you know what you’re doing.”

“We do. I promise,” I stated, my voice giving off more confidence than I felt. Yes, I thought to myself, there’s no doubt that we’re good at what we do.

But so is Scratch.

All was quiet on the jet, the steady thrum of the engine being the only sound that could be heard. Rossi had been the only one able to fall asleep, something that I would be sure to tease him about later. Next to Rossi sat Emily, who had busied herself with flipping through Spencer’s arresting report. Clara and Matt sat across from them, engulfed in their own hushed conversation.

Spencer had opted to sit on the couch, but he didn’t allow himself to sprawl out like he normally would have done. He was visibly exhausted, wiping at his eyes frequently in an attempt to keep the fatigue at bay. It was almost like he was punishing himself; like he didn’t feel he deserved the solace that sleep would bring.

“You should go talk to him. See if you can’t get him to lay down,” Luke whispered encouragingly from his seat beside mine.

“I have no idea what to say to him,” I confessed. I tore my gaze away from Spencer and turned my attention to Luke. “There’s nothing I can say that will make this any better.”

“You’re not wrong about that, but maybe just letting him know you’re here for him will help. Just go and sit with him, I’m sure he could use a friend right now.”

Luke was right. I let out a dramatic sigh before shooting Luke a pointed look.

“Since when did you get so insightful?”

A grin stretched its way across his face.

“Always have been, sweetness. It’s part of my charm. I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”

“And on that note, I’ll be going,” I announced, standing up from my seat and walking the short distance to the couch. Luke’s chuckles sounded off behind me and I couldn’t help but smile; note to self, make more of an effort to get to know Luke Alvez.

I approached slowly, hoping not to startle him as he seemed to be lost in his own world. He didn’t notice me until I came to a stop in front of the couch. Spencer’s head shot up suddenly, the worry on his face melting away to form a small smile.

“Hi,” I greeted, returning his smile tenfold. “You looked like you could use some company. Do you mind if I sit?”

Spencer gave me a soft smile and scooted over, patting at the space next to him. I lowered myself onto the couch, angling my body so it was facing him.

“You’re tired,” I observed, leaning back into the soft cushions. Spencer shrugged in reply, opening his mouth to argue, only for a yawn to slip out. I let out a light laugh. “Don’t even try to argue. There’s no telling how long you’ve been up. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

Spencer’s eyes reluctantly met mine and I felt almost paralyzed when I saw the sheer vulnerability in them.

“Researchers from the University of Cardiff conducted a two-part study looking at whether people’s daily frustration or fulfilment of their psychological needs, such as feeling autonomous or competent, affects their dreams. The results from the first study showed that people who were frustrated with their daily situation tended to have recurring dreams in which they were falling, failing or being attacked,” he rasped out, his words jumbling together as they fell from his mouth in rapid succession. “The lead author on the study concluded that negative dream emotions may directly result from distressing dream events, and might represent the psyche’s attempt to process and make sense of particularly psychologically challenging waking experiences.”

“And you’re worried your dreams will reflect what happened today.”

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek before nodding in affirmation.

“I can’t promise you that you won’t dream about those things,” I began, my voice coming out soft. “But I can tell you that sleep deprivation can cause lots of very unfortunate symptoms like impaired memory, reduced physical strength, and inability to concentrate. Do you know how I know those things?”

A light flush dusted over the tops of his cheeks.

“Probably because I’ve made it a habit to bore you with my information dumps.”

I shook my head adamantly, reaching a hand up and ruffling up his hair. He batted my hand away, ducking his head to try and hide the smile tugging at his lips.

“Never a bore, Spence. But yes, I know those things because of you and that remarkable brain of yours. And we’re going to need that remarkable brain in tip top shape if we want to get you out of this mess, understood?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he relented.

I patted a hand on my lap, an invitation for him to use me as a pillow. He seemed hesitant, eyes flitting from my face before going back down to my lap.

“Don’t act shy around me, Pretty Boy. I know better than anyone that you’re a secret cuddle bug,” I teased, earning a snort from the man next to me.

“Am not,” he harrumphed, before deciding to take me up on my offer. He laid his head down on my lap before stretching his legs out across the expanse of the couch. My heart lurched pitifully when he nuzzled his head into my leg before letting out a loud sigh.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered, voice thick with emotion. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, casting tiny shadows on his face. I smiled at the sight and began carding my hands through his hair.

“No need to thank me,” I murmured, raking my nails against his scalp and eliciting a pleased hum from him. “Don’t you worry about a thing, okay? We’re going to get you out of this. I know we will. And don’t worry about your mom, either; I’m going to check on your mom every day, I promise.”

Spencer’s breathing stuttered at the mention of Diana, and I worried I had crossed a line. He stayed silent for a moment, before moving his hand up and squeezing my knee.

“You’re entirely too good to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’d do the same for me. That’s what friends are for.”

No more words were exchanged, and within five minutes Spencer’s breathing evened out and he was asleep.

Several hours later, we were all filing out of the elevator and into the bullpen. I shivered slightly as the cool air hit my bare arms, but I tried not to show my discomfort. I’d shrugged off my sweater and offered it to Spencer the moment we stepped off the jet, draping it across his cuffed hands in an attempt to conceal them. Spencer had thanked me with a pitiful smile and I returned the sentiment, blinking several times to try and stifle the tears pooling in my eyes.

JJ was the first to greet him, with Stephen, Tara and Penelope following closely behind. I watched on for a moment before my attention was pulled elsewhere. Stephen’s phone had rung, prompting him to slip away from the group and retreat further down the hall. I furrowed my brow at this, taking advantage of my colleagues’ distraction as I wandered towards Stephen. I strained to hear his whispered words, but just as soon as I neared, he ended the call.

“What was that about?” I asked quietly. The look on his face told me that the news couldn’t be good, and I didn’t want to ruin the reunion going on just down the hall. They all deserved a few moments of relief.

Stephen let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his hair before speaking.

“I, uh, just got a call. Reid isn’t eligible for the bureau’s legal assistance.”

Stephen’s words sent a jolt of white-hot dread through me. “How is that even possible?” “Spencer went without being briefed, and he wasn’t in Mexico on government business. They refuse to represent him.”

I let my wary eyes drift down the hall, towards the group of wonderful misfits that I had grown to think of as family;

Penelope, whose optimism never wavered, even in the face of the absolute worst that the world had to offer.

JJ, a devoted mother with a heart of gold and a fierceness that inspired me every single day.

Tara, one of the most intelligent and caring women I had ever had the privilege to know.

Rossi, a father figure to all with enough wisdom to create a legacy that would inspire generations of profilers to be.

Emily, a fearless leader whom I trusted with my life and would follow into battle without question.

Luke, a newcomer who took special care to comfort me when I was at my worst.

Spencer, a man too remarkable to even try to describe with words. A man that anyone of us would defend until our very last breath.

That undeniable truth gave birth to the tiny sliver of hope growing inside of me. Spencer Reid was innocent, and we are all hellbent on proving it.

I nodded once in affirmation, more to myself than to Stephen, before allowing myself to meet his gaze.

“We’re on our own.”

And if anyone could pull this off, it was this team. My team.

There is a point when facing the unknown stops being a longed-for adventure and becomes a terrifying reality.

-Storm Constantine

#spencer reid smut #spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds self insert #prison spencer #prison!reid

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ahiddenpath · 2 years ago

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Life Update

It me, yuh gurl.

Long personal post about... Dealing with... *Waves hands* Everything.

Hey my boops, how ya doin?

I’m feeling sort of... Hm, what’s the word? Pensive? Ruminative? These days. I guess I’m wondering: is my life where I want it to be? If not, what do I want? Stuff like that. It’s a normal and common thing, I’m sure.

My life has been kind of wild since... Actually, since I broke my foot in three places and nearly tore my ankle tendons in late 2017. I spent about three months nonmobile, then another six in physical therapy to regain motion in my ankle/foot. My grandmother passed in 2018 (while I was still in PT), and my family fractured after that (basically squabbling over her possessions, which weren’t valuable, but old grievances were involved, too). I started therapy after that, and I spent over two years really focused on that- which I think is some of the hardest/most difficult work you can do, at least by choice. The pandemic started while I was still in therapy, and I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the loss of over two years of my life??? Which is still ongoing????

So, uh, yeah, actually... My sense of being displaced in time and my own life is making more sense, now that I wrote that out.

One of the big things on my mind recently is work. I’m a researcher at a biotech, annnnnd our current capital will run out in Q4, based on our financial reports. So, uh, under five months, and of course, they would have to close shop well before they hit $0 to take care of expenses (paying out vacation days to employees and paying any business debts, for example).

Biotechs are volatile, they start and close all the time, and layoffs are common when big projects are dropped. Our company projected income for the year from collaborations, and literally none of those deals have panned out. It’s looking bad- but I’ve never been between jobs or unemployed since I was 16, so, um, a break would be amazing? So I’m torn between applying to get ahead of it and taking it easy and letting the chips fall.

I’ve always been focused on planning for my future, like... For as long as I can remember. My family is... Well, I knew I’d have to support myself and be independent ASAP since I was a child. I can’t go to my family for emotional support, advice, or a basic understanding and acknowledgement of who I am as a person. I certainly can’t go to them for financial support; it just isn’t there. My mom expected me to financially support her, in fact, and when she first saw the house I bought two years ago, she spent the whole visit insulting me because I told her she would not be moving in. (My therapy session after that was a whole thing, lemme tell ya what). It’s sad how much of my life has pointed directly towards achieving financial security, knowing that I have no place to land. Every decision, every plan. And, like, it worked, or at least it has so far, which is undeniably a good thing!

But I need to figure out how to shift from “everything I do is strategized to promote economic security” to “uh hey babe, darling, sweetie pie, being happy and appreciating the moment is kind of what life is made of.” And yet, here I am feeling hypocritical as heckin heck, because of course you need economic security to appreciate the moment! You can’t be enjoying a croissant and a hot cocoa on your day off if you are stretching to afford a pound of spaghetti noodles for like $1.60, or whatever that costs with recent inflation- or if you’re working your second or third job on your day off.

I think I’ve been mourning things that are difficult to articulate these days, too. I... Don’t know if I’ll have children, that’s the big thing. Listen, no shade to people who choose to reproduce- in fact, I admire hope in the face of adversity- but I don’t know if there will be a tenable planet for my theoretical kiddo within thirty years- or sooner. I’m a biopharma research scientist, not a climate scientist, but I can interpret data, and my formal summary: that shit be scary. And my country, the USA, is catapulting backwards in terms of rights and dignities. Plus, you know, late stage capitalism hellscape, etc.

And what about the loss of time since 2020? I planned to spend my early 30s travelling- I am sadly an untravelled person- and now it’s heckin hard to even plan a domestic trip (fuel prices, pilot shortages, etc). Like many people, I’ve spent the time since 2020 terrified of being sick and losing loved ones, stuck inside far more, and trying to navigate how to behave in the face of deadly unknowns- and incredibly frustrated by my country’s response. It actually kind of reminds me of the Thanos snap. Obviously, we didn’t, like, dematerialize, but as of this writing, there have been over a million recorded covid deaths in the states. Lives came to a halt, and so many people lost so much- high schoolers missing out on activities and postponing college or opting for remote, babies and toddler missing periods of socialization, on and on and on. And then, after a few weeks, we pushed on as normal, even though nothing was normal???

So, yeah. I feel like I’m passing my hands over my body and feeling holes that aren’t physically there. They are there, but they can’t be seen or easily explained. And I bet most people feel this way. Global trauma, my guys.

I have exactly zero advice, except to be gentle with ourselves and each other. I hope I’ll have the courage to focus on being happy, and not on how messed up the world is and wondering if the holes are expanding. In the face of uncertainty, working harder and hoarding what we have and forgoing fun things in the name of security is... The exact instinct of someone with an anxiety disorder who has focused on security all her life. And I’m willing to bet you don’t need a mood disorder or a past of security-based insecurities to feel this way.

So... Here I am, struggling to absorb everything that has been, everything that is, and a future that is more unsure than ever. That’s it, really, even after that honkin’ wall of text. I hope you’re hanging in there, and that you have fun things going on, even if they’re small- maybe especially if they’re small. Much love to you, my dears.

#hidden's life

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taleasnewastime · 4 years ago

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Flatmates | Part 2

Summary: You need to find a spare room after deciding to move out of your flat that you share with your best friend and her boyfriend. Stumbling upon an advert for a room that seems almost too good to be true, you decide for once to not over think and go for it. But who is the mystery flatmate you are now living with that you hardly see?

Pairing: Hoseok/Reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, slight smut

Word count: 16.9k

Part 1

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption (though just for fun).

Authors Note: So this is part 2 and the final part of this story. There’s a bit of everything in this, fluff, smut and angst. I hope you enjoy :)

The conversation you had accidentally overheard plagued your mind over the following days. Thoughts on what the conversation could have been about littered your mind. Most of them negative.

As promised, Hoseok had a few days off work, so although you still had to go to work, you saw him in the evenings. The two of you hanging out almost as if you were normal flatmates. You grew to know him more than you had before and you grew to like him. He seemed like a normal person rather than the rich man that you had painted him to be in your mind. But as much as you tried to forget it, the conversation between Hoseok and Jimin wouldn’t leave your mind and you wondered every time you spoke to him whether that was when he was going to bring it up and whether that was the right time he was referring to.

The few days that Hoseok has off go by too quickly and before you know it you are back alone in the flat. You would never admit it to anyone, but you missed the mans presence around the flat. You missed coming home to see him lounging on the sofa. You missed eating your tea with him. You missed watching TV with him, even if the two of you didn’t talk. It felt like you had a normal living arrangement and you would go as far as calling him a friend now.

The first day that you came home knowing that Hoseok wouldn’t be home you felt your mood dampen. But then you noticed the distinctive colour of a post-it note on the side. Your heart initially drops at the sight, realising that this was now how you would have to communicate. Just as quickly as your heart drops, it lifts back up in excitement, because any communication with him was good. Dropping your bag by the door you go and pick up the note, reading it.

Maybe Yoongi was right. Text me whenever, about whatever.

Followed by a series of numbers that you assume is his number. Your first emotion was shock, not expecting a note was one thing, Hoseok giving you his number was another thing. Your second emotion was a slight panic. Sure you had grown closer to Hoseok over the past few days, but you still felt weird about texting him. What should you message him? You had initially wanted him to give you his number first, but now that had happened, you realise the ball was in your court to message him, and what the hell were you supposed to say. You spent that night debating over a text, and in the end you had just opted for a simple.

Hi, it’s Y/N. Now you have my number too :)

You had slightly cringed at the message, but all other options you thought of were just as awkward. Trying to take Lilys constant advice, you ended up not over thinking it too much and just send the message.

From there your conversations moved from post-it note, to in person conversation to finally text messages. Like Yoongi had joked, you had moved into the 21st Century and though messages weren’t that frequent, they were more frequent than the notes you used to leave. You were able to ask him if he would want food that night, ask him how his days were going, joke with him about things you found around the flat. Again it didn’t feel like a conventional flatmate relationship, but it was a definite improvement.

After a few weeks of almost constant texting and seeing Hoseok once here and there around the flat you got a message from Jimin.

Hey it’s Jimin. Hobis birthday is next weekend and we’re throwing him a surprise birthday. I was hoping you would do us the biggest favour in letting us host at the flat and helping us keeping it a surprise? Please could you let me know ASAP? Look forward to seeing you, hopefully you don’t pass out before all the fun this time x

A smile comes to your face as you read the message. You hardly knew Jimin yet you liked the fact he was messaging you as if you were friends. The message was a bit of a surprise, though, as you had no idea that it was Hoseoks birthday. You had a week to try and figure out what the hell you were going to buy him. You reply to Jimin.

Y/N: All good with me. Let me know how I can help out, decorations, snacks, entertainment etc. I won’t drink any of your cocktails this week and I should be fine.

Jimin: Thank you so much, I was going to bribe you with alcohol but sounds like that won’t be necessary. I’ll get everything sorted and keep you posted on the plans. You’ll get to meet the rest of the gang too, they can’t wait to meet you x

You hadn’t really thought about the fact that you would be meeting all of Hoseoks friends until Jimin mentions it. A room full of people that all probably knew everyone, and then you. Nerves at the thought of the party start to build. But you busy yourself with ideas at presents and trying to help Jimin to organise different aspects of the party.

The weekend rolls around in no time, birthday balloons and banners appear around the flat. As promised Jimin and Jin turned up early to help decorate. They told you that Hoseok had been asked to help do something at work as a distraction, meaning he would be home late and it would leave enough time for you all to set up and people to turn up before him. Having never met Jin before it didn’t take long for you to feel like you had known him forever, he was the sort of person who you could easily talk to and feel at home with.

As the three of you set up for the party, more people slowly started to turn up. Taehyung and Yoongi turned up near the start, and you were happy there were some familiar faces. Namjoon and Jungkook also turned up early and were introduced as close friends of Hoseok. They all seemed a close-knit group, but they involved you in everything they did and discussed and made you feel at home around them. They seemed like a nice bunch and you could see why Hoseok was friends with them.

When you had all transformed the flat so that it was ready for a party, more people started to turn up. Liv was the only person you had met before and you felt a bit anxious at the room full of people that clearly knew each other well and you knew none of them. You hardly even knew the person who the party was for, and you wished you had asked if you could have at least invited Lily, then you wouldn’t have felt so alone. Even with these doubts in your mind though, Hoseoks friends involved you in their conversations, explaining stories when necessary, asking questions about you. In the end it didn’t feel so bad.

Before the party you had decided you didn’t want to get as drunk as the last time you had met Hosoeks friends, taking the words in Jimins text seriously. However with the build-up of nerves you did end up with a drink in your hand before Hoseok had even turned up to the party, deciding that the alcohol would give you some liquid courage.

At the expected time Jimin told everyone that Hoseok was heading up to the flat and that everyone should hide. Looking around a bit lost as to where to go, Jungkook grabs your arm and pulls you over to a spot behind the door, and you smile up at him in thanks.

“Thanks for letting us steal the flat for this,” he whispers into your ear as the lights go out.

“It’s Hoseoks flat. I should be thanking you guys for letting me join,” you say.

His face scrunches in confusion, causing a few wrinkles to appear on his nose, and his eyebrows to be pulled closer together.

“But you pay to live here, so it’s as much your flat as his,” he argues. “And of course you had to be here. Hobi talks about you all the time so I think he would kick off if he found out you weren’t allowed to stay.”

Now it was your turn to show confusion. Memories come back to you of Jimin saying that Hoseok had spoken about you, which had surprised you at the time, but you had assumed he had just mentioned that you were living with him. Before you can argue your point more or ask what Hoseok had said about you, Jungkook taps you on the shoulder pointing at the front door which a lock can be heard twisting in. Seconds later the door opens to reveal an unsuspecting Hoseok.

As he turns the lights on everyone jumps out of their hiding spot shouting “happy birthday” to him. Hoseok nearly runs back out the door in shock, his legs move fast on the spot, his knees going so high they almost hit his chest as a small yelp leaves his lips. You can’t help but laugh along with everyone at the scene, the man obviously spooked at the surprise.

“At least we know he hadn’t figured out we were doing this,” you continue to laugh, looking over at Jungkook.

“We would have blamed you if he wasn’t surprised,” he says and you look offended at him. “What? You live with him, you could have left something lying around that would have given it away.”

“He’s at work more than he’s here. If anyone was going to ruin it, it would be someone there,” you defend yourself, even though you had nothing to defend.

He simply rolls his eyes at you, smile on his face as he shakes his head as if to say you are wrong. “I can promise you, none of us would have given the game away,” he says, and you note that he also works with Hoseok, does everyone in this room work with him? Are they all just as rich?

“Well, I can promise you that I would also not have given the game away,” you shoot back.

“I can see you two are getting on,” Hoseok interrupts. “Why are you even arguing over this? I didn’t find out so you are both good at keep secrets.”

“But I’m better though, right?” Jungkook says and you can’t help but laugh.

“Stop harassing my flatmate,” Hoseok gives Jungkook a small glare before putting his arm around your shoulders and pulling you off towards the kitchen.

Your heart rate picks up at the closeness, his skin lightly touching the skin of your neck, the contact causing the skin to heat up. As soon as you step into the kitchen his arm drops back to his side as he rounds the counter to where the drinks are, you instantly miss the contact.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” he says, his back to you as he pours out two drinks.

“You really don’t need to thank me. Your friends did most of the organising, buying the decorations and alcohol, and they set up most of it. They’ve already thanked me enough too,” you say.

“But I wanted to say thank you,” he says, turning around with two drinks in his hands.

“No worries,” you give him a small smile as he hands you one of the drinks. “This better not be as deadly as Jimins drinks. I don’t think I can cope with another hangover like last time.”

“No promises,” Hoseok laughs as he takes a sip.

Walking back into the living room where most people were, Hoseok gets dragged away by a girl you don’t recognise, he gives you an apologetic look over his shoulder as she takes him to a small group in the corner.

Looking around the room you take another sip of your drink as you walk to a corner no one was occupying. Feeling a bit lost in the room full of people you don’t know, not the sort of person to jump into a conversation with a group of people who all know each other, you opt for just trying to blend in. Deciding that you would try and just mull around for an hour before heading to your room. That would be enough time to not look rude, you reasoned.

Taking another sip of your drink you look around the party again, everyone stood in small clusters laughing and drinking. Your eyes finally landed on the birthday boy, his smile wide as a boy you don’t recognise tells an animated story. A small smile comes to your lips as you watch his head fall back on his neck, a laugh escaping his lips. Moving on, you continue to look around the rest of the room, noticing the boys that had come to help you set up the party scattered around the room with different groups, all seemingly having a good time.

A small sigh leaves your lips as you look down at your cup, watching the ice clink against the edge of your cup as you swirl its contents.

“You look a little lost,” a voice says from beside you and you look up to see Liv smiling beside you. “Come on, I’ll introduce to some people,” she says and takes your hand before you can say anything against the matter.

She drags you over to a group of four people, the only person you recognise is Jin. Liv introduces you as Hoseoks flatmate and then gives you the names of everyone else, you give them a small smile in return. They carry on the conversation that they had been having before you arrive and you stand listening, giving smiles and noises when appropriate. But mainly you stay silent, listening and sipping your drink, feeling slightly awkward.

When the conversation reached a certain lull, you turned to Liv and tell her you were going to get another drink. She told you to come back and find her when you were done and you smiled at how nice she was being.

Pouring out a drink, you take out your phone as you sip the contents, deciding to stay in the kitchen for a few minutes. As you had thought earlier, you think again how you wish you had asked if you could have invited Lily to the party. Deciding to send her a text instead, it simply read:

Wish you were here, this party sucks.

Which you felt slightly bad for saying as it was more you and the fact you struggled to socialise with strangers that was making it boring. Everyone else seemed to be having a great time.

Have a few more drinks and I’m sure it will liven up!

She replies and you smile at her reply. Alcohol would of course help you feel less awkward, but you also didn’t want to have to down loads of spirits to have a good time.

“Y/N,” you heard your name screamed, and you look up from your phone in the direction of the party. “Y/N,” the scream sounds out again, you make no attempt to move towards it, slightly confused as to why someone was shouting your name anyway. “There you are,” Jimin says as he appears in the door way, catching your eye. “Come on, we’re starting a game and I need you on my team,” he says as he walks towards you. “You were so good when we played last time,” he stands in front of you smiling.

“Oh,” is all you say in response.

“I’ve already hyped up how much I’m going to win, and I’m relying on you to achieve that,” he slightly pleads, before looking around the empty room you occupy. “Why you hiding out in here?”

Your cheeks flush at his words, eyes dropping to your cup. “Just getting a drink.”

“Well, you have one now,” he says gently, obviously realising that there was more to you hiding away from the party. “Hoseok wants you to play too,” he says as if that would make you want to play.

“Of course, I’ll play. But I don’t want to win if I’m going to be punished and have to drink again,” you say, and a big smile breaks out on his face, you would never have been rude enough to deny him and would have found to awkward to say no anyway. “I think last time was a fluke anyway, maybe the alcohol,” you say.

“You’ll just have to drink a bit more then,” he says, walking away, you following in suit.

“I think there was more to it than that,” you mumble.

“Yeah, skill,” he pauses when in the room so that you are stood next to him, a cheeky smile on his face as he places an arm around your shoulders.

Guiding you through the room, he takes you to a different group from earlier who were all sat around chatting on the sofa, a pack of playing cards lay in front of them. Hoseok was there next to the same girl that dragged him off from the start, Taehyung sat next to Jungkook and two other girls you hadn’t met.

“Got my partner,” Jimin announces loudly as he pulls you to sit by him in the empty seats, his arm still around you.

“Ahh, the winning partner I hear,” Jungkook says.

“I’ve just been saying that I think Jimins expectations are too high,” you say shyly as everyone's eyes are on you.

“You were the best last time,” Hoseok chimes in and you give him a small smile in thanks.

“If she can remember it,” Taehyung adds and your face heats at the memory as everyone Hoseok, Jimin and Taehyung give a small laugh at the memory. Jimin gives your shoulder a small squeeze in reassurance seeing your embarrassed look.

Turns out last time was not a fluke and though you joke that Jimin was sabotaging your team for being so rubbish, you ultimately win. Ice broken, and alcohol coursing through your system, you feel more comfortable at the party and start to actually enjoy yourself. Though you end up not really speaking to Hoseok, you talk to his friends and have the best time.

Staying up later that you thought, you actually start to see people leave. Clearing up and taking some of the dirty cups to the kitchen you try and make the flat look less like a bomb site.

As you clean the living room up a bit you think about how good a time you’d had. How nervous you were but everyone had made you feel at home, part of the group. You wish you’d spoken to Hoseok more, as he was the reason you were there, but it was his party with all his friends, there were obviously going to be people there he wanted to speak to more than you.

“Come on, we’ll clear all this up tomorrow,” Hoseok voice comes from behind you as you start to make a pile of glasses by the sink and you jump slightly, not hearing him enter the room.

“I just think if I do a bit now, it will save doing it tomorrow,” you continue to pile up the glasses.

“Just stop,” Hoseok says, his voice getting louder as he walks closer to you. “I’ll sort it out tomorrow.”

Continuing to ignore him, you instead start to fill the sink with water. Hoseoks hand grabs your wrist, stopping you from doing anything more, his other hand turning the tap off.

“I said, it’s fine,” his voice has dropped an octave, and it almost sends a shiver down your spine.

You turn around to face him, not expecting him to be stood so close.

“I just wanted to be helpful,” you look to the ground, unable to meet his eye as your heart beat picks up. “It is your birthday after all. You can’t be the one to clean up.”

“You’ve been more than helpful,” he says, his hand that was encompassing your wrist drops down so that he is now holding your hand. “Plus, I enjoy cleaning.”

“Is no one staying over tonight? No Jimin?” You ask, trying, but failing, to relieve the tension that has arisen in the room.

“No one,” he replies. “Just the two of us,” he says, and your face heats.

“Well, I had a great night. I hope you enjoyed it too,” you attempt again to ease the tension that has arisen in the room with a change in topic.

“I really loved it. Nice to see everyone. Sorry I didn’t get to talk to you more, I really wanted to but people kept pulling me away.”

“It’s fine, everyone wants to talk to the birthday boy,” you say. “Your friends were nice though, they made me feel really welcome and like I was part of the group.”

“They all loved you,” he says and you roll your eyes at him though the smile that comes to your face gives you away.

“Well, they were easy to get on with,” you say.

A silence comes over the room as you stare into each other's eyes. Hoseoks thumb slowly runs along the side of your hand as he continues to hold it. The tension in the room gets almost unbearable and you have to break it, unsure how it had built so high after just a short conversation.

“I have a present for you,” your voice sounds loud after the silence.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he says.

“It’s in my bedroom,” you say, taking your hand out of his as you walk towards your room, hoping he got the hint that you wanted him to follow you.

Reaching your room, you dig through the draw where you put the present. Finding it you turn around to see Hoseok leaning against the wall next to your door.

“Here you go,” you hand him the rectangular gift. A wide smile breaks out on his face, his big white teeth on show. “It’s nothing big,” you try to lower his expectations.

“I already love it,” he says, having not removed any wrapping paper.

“Well, open it before you make any assumptions,” you say, nerves taking over as you watch him rip open the gift.

As the paper gets taken off, a gold rimmed photo frame appears. A photo of seven smiling men within it.

“I asked Jimin for a photo,” you explain as his eyes light up at the gift. “So you can blame him if you don’t like it.” As the silence continues you start to worry that he is disappointed so you decide to fill the silence. “I just thought how you said you wanted more pictures around the flat, and this could be the start.”

“I love it,” he says as he finally looks up at you and you can’t describe the look in his eye. Reaching out he places the frame on top of the draws next to him. “I honestly love it.”

Hoseoks face almost impossibly lights up more when he sees a smile come to your face. Opening his arms up, he looks at you questioningly.

“Can I give you a thank you hug?” He asks.

Heat rising to your face, you step towards him in answer, getting just close enough for him to be able to take you in his arms. He takes a small step forward so that the tips of your toes are almost touching before wrapping his arms around you. Almost in shock at the contact, your arms remain by your side for half a second before you think that it would be weird if you didn’t hug him back.

Putting your arms around his waist you take in how your head fits perfectly into the crook of his neck. How your arms fit around his waist, whenever you had seen him, he wore loose clothing and you had never noticed how slim he was, not just that, but how toned he was. With your nose pressed to his shirt you smell the alcohol he had been drinking all night, but there was also the overwhelming smell of him, a masculine, earthy smell mixed with clean linen. His hand slowly runs up and down your back in a soothing motion and you can feel the faint whisps of air coming from his nose on top your head.

Unsure how long you stay like that, and feeling like you could stay in his arms forever, you finally pull away from his embrace. The smile is still plastered on Hoseoks face when you look at him, and neither of you make a move to step away from each other.

“Thanks,” he whispers again and you would have laughed if the tension wasn’t so harsh.

“It’s nothing,” you say just as quietly.

Before you can step away or saying anything else, you are pulled into another hug. This time he seems to step impossibly closer, his feet now either side of yours so that your chests are flush against one another. Your heart rate increases and you worry that he can feel it trying to escape your chest.

Hoseok pulls away just enough so that he can look into your eyes, but keeps his arms tight around you, chests still pressed against one another. Leaning down he places a kiss on your cheek, your face heating at the spot that his lips touch.

“I love it,” he says as he pulls away again so he can look into your eyes.

Unsure what to reply, words escaping you in that moment, you remain silent as you stare at him. He leans down again and kisses your other cheek and you are sure it’s the alcohol causing him to act this way.

“And thanks for the party,” he says.

“I- It- It was mainly your friends,” you manage to stutter out.

Hoseok simply hums at you as his eyes flicker between yours, and you don’t miss when they occasionally flick down to your lips. Time seems to slow in the moment, and in a way you’re are thankful, wanting to stay in this moment for as long as possible.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice is impossibly quiet but you catch every word.

Your head gives the smallest nod that you would have thought was invisible to the human eye, but Hoseok obviously notices as his head slowly moves towards yours.

As soon as his lips touch yours, you feel almost paralysed, your mind goes blank and it’s as if your body forgets how to work. But as his lips slowly move against yours, your mind suddenly speeds up and whirls into action. Your lips start to move in time with Hoseok and a small moan of approvement escapes his lips. As your hands move up to the nape of his neck, his move down to rest on your hips, squeezing and kneading you skin slightly. Pulling away you rest your foreheads together as slow pants come out of your lips.

“Please don’t say thank you,” you say and Hoseok gives a big laugh at the words, his head going to your shoulder as his body slightly shakes in your arms.

Once calmed down enough he brings his head back up to look at you and you feel the tension ease as the big smile remains on his face. His forehead is no longer resting on yours, but you still remain close, arms wrapped around each other.

“I should probably get to bed,” Hoseok says, though he doesn’t make a move to leave.

“Yeah, it is getting pretty late,” you say, though you also don’t move from your position.

Leaning down, Hoseoks lips encase yours and slowly move in a steady rhythm. The kiss is less desperate and heated as the one that happened moments ago, and it is shorter, your lips separating after hardly anytime. Brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, Hoseok finally step away from you.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, a wide smile on his face as he slowly backs towards the door.

“I’ll be in the kitchen cleaning all those glasses,” you joke.

“Don’t do them all without me,” Hoseok warns you. Giving you one last glance, he turns and heads to his own room.

Lying in the bed that night, you aren’t sure whether it’s the alcohol coursing through your veins or the lingering feeling of Hoseoks lips on yours that causes you to stay awake for what feels like hours.

It’s the next day, when the sink is full of hot water ready for you wash up, that you next see Hoseok. Hearing his door open and close, you turn to look as he walks through the kitchen door. You have to stop the coo that almost leaves your lips at the sight of him. Striped, long, soft, pyjamas don his body, the crotch low making his legs look small. His hair looks fluffy and soft as he has obviously just rolled out of bed, a brush not having gone through it yet. His eyes are small and slightly puffy from sleep. A small yawn leaves his lips and his hands rub his tired eyes as he steps into the room.

“Morning,” you say semi cheerfully as you turn back to the sink, rolling up your sleeves as you take the first item to wash.

“I’m here to help,” his morning voice is raspy and you wish you had a recording of it so you could listen to it over and over.

“I was serious when I said I’m fine doing it alone,” you say, concentration still on the dishes as you feel him come and stand next to you. He picks up the wet glass you had just washed and dries it before putting it away.

“And I was serious when I said I wanted to help,” he says as you hand him another glass to dry. “I actually enjoy cleaning and clearing up. Is that weird?”

“It can be therapeutic,” you agree.

“I just like things clean,” he says and you give a small chuckle.

“I mean Rosie did say I would have to keep the flat clean when I first spoke to her,” you say. “She made it sound more like it was an advert for a cleaning job than for a spare room,” you exaggerate, teasing him.

“I’ve just said I like to clean,” his voice comes out slightly whiney, and when you look at him there is a small pout on his lips, though you can tell he is teasing.

“Then why did you make it sound like a weird cleaning job?” You laugh.

“That wasn’t my idea,” he holds the hand up that hasn’t got a glass in it, finger pointed, eyebrows raised. “But I do like a tidy house, so I agreed to it.”

“Guess you don’t want any messy weirdo,” you continue to laugh as you pass him another glass to dry.

“Unlucky I got you then, hey,” he says and manages to dodge the small splash of water that you aim at him.

“Didn’t seem like you felt that way last night,” the words slip out of your mouth before you even think, and as your mind catches up to what you have said your face heats. The room falls silent and you’re glad that your focus is on the sink, Hoseok unable to see the shock written all over your face.

“I guess you’ve grown on me,” he says after the seconds silence. “You did offer to clean up after the party.”

“Oh,” you say in a mock shocked voice as you turn to look at him. “So is that your thing?” You ask as you look on his face. “Cleaning turns you on?” You clarify and you are unsure where your confidence has come from.

A slight pink tints his cheeks and your smile grows at the fact that you had caused that. Your confidence growing in the process.

“If that was my thing, I would have done more than just kiss you,” and with those few words your confidence is crushed. Your head whips back to look at the bubbles in the sink, face hot as you avoid his eye contact.

Hearing his steps coming back to stand next to you, ready for another glass, you glance at him long enough to hand him the one you had just washed, seeing the wide, almost proud smile on his face you go back to looking at the sink.

“So when we’ve finished washing these, fancy tackling the living room?” You don’t give him time to answer before continuing. “I have a feeling there are going to be crumbs everywhere, and I think I saw Jin smashing some cake in Jungkooks face at one point, so I expect there will be icing everywhere too.”

“I’m fine to do that alone. Surely you have better things to do today?” You roll your eyes at his words, though you are secretly glad that he had allowed the conversation to move on from the kiss.

“We’ve been over this,” you sigh. “If we just do it together, it will be done quicker.”

“OK, and then can we watch something and eat lots of food after?” He asks in an almost pouty voice and you laugh but agree.

As predicted the living room was full of crumbs, bits of cake, and some more dishes that you hadn’t taken to the sink earlier. But working together it took no time for the flat to be back to its normal self. For once the two of you didn’t order in food, instead you quickly whipped up some food, saying that it would make the both of you feel better to eat something fresh.

Bringing the food into the living room Hoseok was already lay on the sofa flicking through film options on the TV.

“So I’m thinking either, 10 things I hate about you, or 13 going on 30?” Hoseok says as you hand him a plate and flop down next to him.

“You really love chick flicks don’t you,” you give a small chuckle as you look at him.

“I just love the romance, the happy endings, the kissing,” he teases, wiggling his eyes at you as you roll your eyes, looking back at the TV to hide your embarrassment.

“Just play 10 things I hate about you,” you sigh, shoving some food in your mouth as Hoseok presses play.

Throughout the film you find yourself drifting in and out of sleep. 10 things I hate about you turns into 13 going on 30, which turns into Notting Hill. By this point you feel more awake and you are both sat up watching the film, Hoseok had gone and got snacks at some point so you were both munching on those.

“I’d love to own a bookstore,” you say through a mouthful of popcorn as the film shows a young Hugh Grant stood in his bookstore.

“You love that snug so much it doesn’t surprise me,” Hoseok replies.

“And then imagine some famous walking in,” you sigh dreamily. “And I mean someone as famous as her, she’s supposed to be one of the most famous people ever in this film. I think I’d freeze if that happened to me.”

Hoseok chuckles to himself as you speak, not saying anything as you ramble on about the film.

“But he just invites her back to his flat? I mean he has just spilt juice all over her, but still, I think I’d run away mortified,” you say.

“Really?” You can’t quite decipher the tone of Hoseoks voice, and when you turn to look at him you see an almost smug, knowing look on his face.

“Yeah,” you say, though less sure of yourself now that you are looking at him. “Wouldn’t you?”

At that Hoseok turns back to look at the TV, the smug smile still on his face. “Depends who it was I guess.”

“Someone really famous, that everyone knows,” you say.

“Go on name someone,” he turns back to you, eyebrows raised in question awaiting your answer.

You give a small hum as you think. “I’m not the best with famous people,” you say and another chuckle leaves Hoseoks lips. “I don’t know. Leonardo DiCaprio? Hugh Grant?” You say pointing at the man on the screen.

“Well they may not have the same desired effect on me, as they would have on you,” he says a smile on his face as your cheeks warm. “But sure, maybe I’d panic a bit. I think I’d probably have more of a desire to talk to them though, ask them about their careers, their lives.”

“And that is where we have a major difference in views,” you say. “I could never talk to someone like that.”

“But they’re just people?” Hoseok says.

“Of course. They’re just completely different people to me,” you say. “They probably wouldn’t be interested in talking to me anyway. I’m sure they have loads of people go and say how much they love them, ask them the same questions over and over, the last thing they would want is me going over.”

“True,” Hoseok says. “But I am also sure that they would enjoy hearing it. It must be nice to hear that people like what you are doing. But like you said, not if there's hundreds of people doing the same thing.”

“Must be weird,” you say.

“What?” He asks.

“To have everyone know who you are. Everything you do scrutinised. I mean look, she can’t even go into this guys flat without everyone swarming on the place,” you say, the TV showing Hugh and Julia hiding out in his flat with press outside the door.

Hoseok simply hums in response, eyes on the TV.

“I don’t think it’s a life I’d want,” you say and Hoseok turns to look at you, an almost sadness in his eyes.

“Even if it was a consequence of doing something you love?”

“I’m not sure there would be anything worth it,” you say. “To have your life completely invaded. I don’t know.”

Hoseok simply nods his head as if understanding, but the sadness remains in his eyes and you are unsure why.

“But I can see why people do it,” you say, trying to lighten the weirdly sad mood that had fallen over the room. “Notting Hill is pretty. I bet it costs a lot more to live there now than it did when this was filmed,” you decide to change the topic of conversation.

“Yeah, I like all the brightly coloured houses,” he agrees with you.

“Have you ever been?”

“I’ve been to London, but it was a business trip so I didn’t really get to go around everywhere I’d like to,” he says. “You ever been?”

“No, but I’d love to. It always looks so pretty in films. I think I’d rather go there than New York,” you say.

“Really? I feel like most people would say the opposite,” he says.

“Yeah, but I feel like there are more places in England I would want to visit. America is so big you would just do New York and then have to do LA or somewhere else another trip,” you reason.

“I guess,” Hoseok shrugs. “You should just go if you want to.”

“I will one day, I just need to save up enough money and save up some holiday from work first,” you say, Hoseok nodding. “And find someone who would want to come with me,” you chuckle.

“You wouldn’t go alone?”

“Maybe, but isn’t it funer to experience these things with people?”

“Yeah, I guess it’s nice to have the memories with someone,” he agrees. “Well if you ever need a travelling buddy, I’d come with you.”

You weren’t expecting him to say that and he can tell by the way your eyebrows shoot up your forehead, you mouth popping open in surprise. “Really?” You question.

“Why not?” He laughs at your reaction.

“Not too busy?” You ask.

“I’d have to fit it around my schedule, but if you’re waiting to build up money and holiday anyway, then I don’t see why it wouldn’t work.”

You think about what he was saying. You still feel like you don’t really know much about Hoseok, yet here he was offering to go on holiday with you as if you were best friends. But part of you wanted to take him up on the offer, wanted to travel the world with the man, wanted to have memories of him in places around that you dreamed of visiting.

“Alright, deal,” you say smiling at him, getting a big beaming smile in return.

As much as you wanted to travel with the man, you honestly had no thought that it would actually ever happen. He was far too busy. He was probably saying it to make you feel like you had someone to go with, to be nice. Because that was what Hoseok was, nice. But you could at least pretend that the offer was real, that maybe one day you would travel with him. So that’s why you agreed, to let part of you hold that small fantasy.

The rest of the day was spent watching more films with Hoseok, falling into easy with him, growing ever closer to him. You almost didn’t want the day to end, enjoying the rare time you got to actually talk to him in person. But eventually you both went your rooms in your separate rooms.

Life went back to its more normal routine after that. Or what you had grown to see as normal anyway. Back at work, only being able to talk to Hoseok through post-it notes and texts, hearing him come home late at night, you leaving for work before he was up for the day. In a weird way you missed him, though you were still speaking to him all the time you wished you could see him in person, even if it was just a passing hi in the hallway.

You hung out with Lily and Eddie, hung out with people from work, went out shopping and to coffee shops on your own, but it never felt the same as just sitting on the sofa with Hoseok. You wanted to text him to ask when he would next be off work so that you could do it again, but you always chickened out when going to send the text.

The answer to your unasked question came after a few weeks. Sat watching something in the living room on a weekend you had assumed that Hoseok was either away or had left before you had awoken that day. But he walked into the room in his usual long pyjamas and ruffled hair and you couldn’t help the shocked expression that came to your face. He didn’t notice though as his eyes were almost squinted shut.

Flopping down onto the sofa, his head lay almost touching your lap and you could see how red his nose was from blowing it so frequently, his eyes puffy.

“You OK?” You speak for the first time and try to refrain from running your hand through his already ruffled hair.

“Just got a bit of a cold,” his voice is gravely and you didn’t think the sound would affect you as much as it did, it reminding you of his voice after his birthday when he had just woken up.

“Need me to get you anything? Water, paracetamol, soup?” You list some options, already preparing to stand up.

“No,” he whines slightly, his hand reaching above his head and tapping around in search of your leg, his eyes still closed. “I just want you to stay here,” he says as his hand rests against your leg and the spot warms at the contact.

“I’ll be back in a second, I’m just going to get you a drink,” you ignore his whines as you stand up, his arm flopping down to the floor.

It takes you hardly any time to get some water for him, coming back in to find him in the same position. Placing the glass on the table in front of him you take your original seat, though a bit further away from him this time.

His hand comes up from the floor though and repeats the same action as before, blindly searching for you and you watch as he can’t quite reach you. Raising his head and opening his eyes to squint at you a pout forms on his lips as he sees you’ve moved away from him.

“Come here,” he says, patting the place you earlier occupied.

Heat raises to your face as you shuffle closer to him. Once close enough he looks up into your eyes, a small smile on his face as he makes his whole-body shuffle closer to you, his head now in the perfect position to rest on your legs.

You stiffen at the contact, while Hoseok hums out lowly, making himself comfy. Looking down at him you can just make out that his eyes are closed as his head faces the TV. After a few minutes and coming to the conclusion that the man is going nowhere you start to relax slightly. Looking down at him again you finally decide to do what you’d be wanting to do since he lay down on the sofa. Picking your hand up you gently run your hand through his hair, nails running gently along his scalp. A satisfied hum leaves Hoseoks mouth at the feeling and he shuffles impossibly closer to you.

“That feels nice,” his croaky voice sounds out.

“Maybe you should take some paracetamol,” you say.

A groan leaves his lips showing how much he opposes the idea. “I took some earlier,” he says. “It’s just a cold, I’ve probably just over worked myself a bit, I’ll be fine by the end of the day. I just want to lie here for a bit.”

“How long ago?” The strokes of his hair never ceasing as you both speak. “You should try and take your full dose if you want to feel better.”

“Alright mum,” he whines, sitting up he reaches out and takes the glass of water you had placed on the table. As you shuffle to the end of the sofa ready to go get him some pills a hand comes out to stop you. “I’ve got it,” he says before standing up and heading to the kitchen.

“You looked after me when I was ill, why can’t I repay the favour?” You ask when he re-enters the room, paracetamol in hand.

“You can,” he says and he comes back to his earlier position. “The hair stroking was making me feel much better,” he looks up at you, head on your lap, smile on his face.

Smiling down at him you go back to trailing your hand through his hair and he twists back to look at the TV, though he closes his eyes. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep in your lap, but you continue to run fingers along his scalp, secretly loving the feeling yourself.

You could easily have slipped Hoseok from your lap, could easily escaped from under him. You had planned on doing some stuff around the flat that day, your sheets needed to be changed for one, and you need to go pick up some food from the shops. But as he lay in your lap, you couldn’t help but stare at his pristine face, taking in all his features. And the last thing you wanted to do in that moment was move away from him. So you sat watching the TV for nearly an hour before Hoseok started to stir.

“Good sleep?” You spoke softly when he seemed to be fully awake.

“How long have I been out?” He asks, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.

“About an hour. Looks like you needed it,” you say.

“An hour? You didn’t have to stay,” he replies, stretching his arms out in a stretch as a yawn escapes his lips.

“I didn’t mind,” you half mumble. “You must be hungry though. I need to go pick up some food from the shop anyway, so do you want me to get anything for you?”

“I’ll come with you,” he says, legs being pulled out and dropping down so that his feet hit the floor.

“I’m going anyway,” you repeat your statement.

“Anyone would think you don’t want to be seen with me in public,” he says, looking down at you from his standing position.

“It’s just, you’re obviously not well I don’t want you to get more ill,” you say.

“I feel way better, like I said earlier, I get these colds all the time when I’ve had a heavy work schedule and they normally go by the end of the day. That nap has sorted me right out,” he gives you a wide smile as if to try and convince you, but you can both tell that it nor his words have made you any less concerned for his health. “The fresh air will do me good?” It comes out as a question as he continues to try and persuade you to let him go.

“Well there's no way I can stop you,” you sigh, but a small chuckle leaves your lips as Hoseok jumps in celebration.

“Let me just change, I’ll be 5 minutes,” he shouts as he runs out the room.

As you sit waiting for him you can’t help but smile. You couldn’t explain what it was about him but he made you feel like no one had ever done before. Maybe it was the way his smile seemed to brighten the room, maybe how his personality was always happy even on a day like today when he was obviously not feeling 100% he could still make you smile, maybe the fact that you felt like you could have a real conversation with him, joke with him, tell him things without feeling like he would judge you. You still felt like you hardly knew the man, yet you constantly wanted to be around him, would miss when he wasn’t in the flat, your heart would skip a beat when you saw a text arrive from him.

Maybe it was just the fact that he was your flatmate. That you share so much with someone you live with. That even if he was hardly here, you saw a different side to someone when you lived with them. Maybe you would have felt this way towards anyone you lived with. After all you were very fond of Lily, and by extension Eddie, who you had lived with, granted you had been friends with Lily before living with her, but living with her had caused your friendship to grow even closer.

It took the promised 5 minutes for Hoseok to come back into the room, as promised. Snapping out of your thoughts you looked up to see him wearing some baggy black trousers, a big white top tucked into the front showing off his skinny waist. He held a hat and mask in his hand as he smiled at you.

“Ready?” He asked.

Standing up you give him a smile and a small nod as you walk towards him. He makes a small gap so you can get past him to the front door.

“You looked deep in thought,” he says and though it’s not a question you know he is expecting an answer.

Face heating you shrug as you put your shoes on and pick up your bag. “Just thinking about what I need to buy,” you say, turning to look at him as you stand ready to go. “Do you not want a jacket?”

“It’s warm enough to not need one,” he says.

“But you’re not well. You don’t want to make yourself more ill,” you scold him.

He simply rolls his eyes, walking towards you he opens the door and puts a hand on your back giving you a small push so that you walk through the door. “I’ll be fine,” he says as he follows you out. “Like I said, I already feel worlds better.”

Riding the elevator down Hoseok puts his mask and hat on, obscuring his face but you can still see when his eyes squint in happiness and hear his voice when he talks to you. Saying a thank you to Keith as he opens the door for you both, you realise that this is the first time you have been with Hoseok outside of the flat. It felt kind of weird to be with him outside, almost unnatural.

Walking beside Hoseok though you fall into easy conversation with him, forgetting any worries altogether. Going round the shop Hoseok mainly trails behind you, commenting on a few items that you put in your basket, asking if you can add some other items, which you gladly do. It felt normal, not that you had really expected anything else, but the whole thing struck you as nice and it made you feel more and more like you wanted to hang out with the man.

As expected Hoseok tried to pay for the food, but you refused saying that most of the items were for you anyway. As he had paid for 2 takeaways and hadn’t let you pay him back in the end was enough for him to roll his eyes and put his wallet away. Though when it came to carrying the bag of groceries home, he would not take no as an answer.

Back in the flat you seem to fall into an almost rehearsed routine of putting the food away, both ebbing and flowing to the get fridge and cupboards needed.

“So what we cooking?” You ask when everything's away.

Turning you see Hoseok leaning against the island looking at you, no words spoke.

“What?” You ask, wondering if you had something on your face the way he was looking at you.

“Nothing,” he says with a small smirk on his face and when you continue to look at him confused he carries on. “It’s just being in here reminds me of the party. Of when we kissed.”

Face instantly heats at his words. Sure you had inadvertently spoken about it for all of 2 minutes the morning after, otherwise it was some unspoken topic that you assumed Hoseok wanted to forget.

“Oh,” you say turning away from him to busy yourself with something.

“Do you not think about it too?" He says and you can hear his voice getting closer.

“It crosses my mind,” you lie, back still to him, because honestly there isn’t a day when you don’t think about his lips on yours.

“I can’t get it out of my head,” he agrees with the thoughts swimming in your mind.

His voice is so close that it shouldn’t be a surprise when you turn and he is stood almost on top of you. Craning your neck you look up at him.

“Really?” You say unsure if he was lying, though you can’t think why he would.

His hand comes out and rests on your face, thumb slowly brushing your cheek.

“Yeah,” he says softly as his head starts to lean towards you.

Head spinning, a million thoughts run through your mind and yet the words that escape your mouth are, “you’re ill.”

A small laugh sounds out, lips curve up into a smile. “I told you I feel fine,” he says, but then slowly starts to back away. “But if you’re worried you’ll catch something.”

Panic is the only thing that crosses your mind as you watch him retreat. Cursing yourself for saying anything in the first place, you raise your hand so that it’s on top of the one on your face.

“I’ll risk it,” you say.

A brighter smile takes over his face before he comes in again. Faster this time there is no time before his lips are connected with yours.

The kiss starts of gentle, lips moulding together in synchronised movement. But as soon as you feel his tongue swipe at your lips and then the feeling of his tongue in your mouth, the kiss turns more heated. Hoseok gently pushes you back until you feel the kitchen island behind you. Hips push into yours and you can’t help but feel his growing excitement, a groan escapes your lips at the realisation and you can’t help but push your hips forward to gain some more friction.

Panting Hoseok parts from you long enough to say “bedroom?”

You nod at him. His hands come down to your thighs and you jump up so that he can carry you to his room. Lips attached to one another you hardly notice when you enter his room, only conscious when he drops you down onto his bed. It’s only then that you think about the fact you have never seen his room, but all thoughts of this are ripped from your mind as Hoseok strips himself of his top. Standing above you in nothing but his trousers you can’t help as your eyes travel down his toned torso.

A small chuckle leaves his lips as he watches you, crawling up your body so that his face is level with yours he asks, “like what you see?”

Your answer comes as you grab the back of his neck, pulling him down to connect your lips again.

Frantic is the word you would describe the action of you and Hoseok stripping each other of your clothes. Down to just your underwear you almost gasp when you feel his fingers gently slide up the inside of your thigh, stopping just where you want him.

“Are you sure?” He asks and your heart grows at how sweet he is even in this moment.

“Yes,” is all you have to say before you pulls your pants down your legs before bringing his fingers to your clit. Moaning as beings to move, one hand on your thigh keeping your legs open. When your feel a finger enter you, your head lulls back into the pillow, a loud groan escaping you as he continues his assault.

“Hoseok,” you moan and he adds another finger, continuing his torture. “Hoseok, please,” you try again to get his attention.

“What is it love?” He says and all you can think is how wrong you were when you thought his morning voice was sexy, because surely this was really what you wanted to hear all the time.

Your mind goes blank at the sound and the feeling of him between your legs. After a second to regain yourself you try again, “Hoseok, please I need you.”

His fingers slow at your request, clearly flustered. The feeling of his fingers leaving you makes you whelp, missing the feeling instantly. But Hoseok crawls up your body, lips kissing every inch that he comes into contact with as he goes. Finally face to face he gives you a small kiss he looks you in the eye.

“You’re sure?” He asks.

“Yes,” you say again and watch as his eyes brighten.

He pulls away from you to reach to his nightstand, coming back with a foil packet in his hand. Pulling his pants down you watch as he rolls the condom down his erection, giving it a few strokes before looking back at you.

His lips attach back to yours, tongue easily slipping into your mouth. Groaning at the feel of his tip slowly caressing your folds. His lips only separate from yours when he sinks into you, a few pants leave his lips as he bottoms out. He stays like that for a few seconds, obviously trying to gather himself, but when he starts to moving your hips against him he starts to thrust in you.

It’s slow and sensual and you would almost describe it as making love. Lips messy as they move against each other, separating every so often only to be attached to another part, neck, chest, shoulder, anything you can get contact with.

He seems to hit every nerve within you and it doesn’t take you long to start to reach your high. As you are pushed over the edge, Hoseoks hips speedy slightly into a sloppy rhythm as he chases his own high which follows closely behind yours.

Collapsing onto of you, you kiss his shoulder as he remains inside of you panting lightly. Pushing onto his elbows he looks down at you.

“I should have done that sooner,” he admits and you smile up at him.

“You’ve been busy,” you try to give him an excuse.

“I could have made time,” he smirks.

Pulling out of you, you instantly miss the feeling. But Hoseok rolls next to you, pulling you into his chest, his arms encompassing you.

“Stay here tonight?” He whispers into your ear.

“It is quite far for me to get home,” you joke and he kisses your temple with a laugh.

“Would hate anything to happen to you between here and your room,” he plays along.

You swivel to get into a more comfortable position, your head now on his chest as his hand runs up and down your arm. Feeling sleep take over you can’t help but feel happy. You hadn’t had anything like this in so long and yet this seemed to feel natural, nice. Sleep finally takes you over and you feel like you have never slept better than you do wrapped in Hoseoks arms.

You and Hoseok fell into a weird but almost natural relationship after that. Some nights when he came home you would end up making out on the sofa, TV on but ignored in the background. Sometimes things would progress and he would pick you up, lips still attached to his as your legs wrap around his waist, while he carries you to his room. Not sure if you would call it making love, not like the first time you did it, but not far off. You would spend as many nights together as possible, mainly opting to stay in his room.

Sometimes you would wake up to an empty bed, but your favourite mornings were when you would wake up and find him still asleep next to you. You would trace patterns on his bare chest, watching as it rose and feel in a steady rhythm. You felt at peace, happy, and almost like you were falling in love with the man.

But you were living in an almost bubble, and that bubble abruptly popped one Sunday morning when you woke up all alone in bed. Not thinking anything of it, you went about your normal routine, getting some breakfast and a drink before heading to the living room. Switching on the TV though, you stopped mid chew as you watched the TV that had been left on some gossip channel.

Pictures of you were plastered over the screen, walking out the building you lived in, some of you carrying birthday balloons and decorations from a week or so ago. As these disappeared new photos of Jimin and the boys appeared, all dressed in the outfits they had been wearing for the party. And lastly one of Hoseok walking into the building, the words J-Hopes birthday celebrations the only thing you manage to pick up on in your confusion.

Focusing more on what the news reader was saying you hear her talking about a boyband you’d heard of called BTS. Questioning whether the girl in the pictures was J-Hopes new girlfriend as they had been seen entering the building where he lives all the time, most recently to decorate for his birthday. Some sources had confirmed that she lived there, though they didn’t say what sources they were.

The girl they were talking about, you realised, was you. Your mind seemed to be working slowly, trying to piece together a puzzle that seemed easy but was proving to be difficult, or maybe it you were purposefully not putting the pieces together correctly. Taking your phone out of your pocket you decide to google the most logical thing, BTS. Photos and news stories pop up showing the 6 boys you had met just a few days ago as well as the boy you lived with. Many of the latest new stories seemed to be following a similar theme to what you had just watched on the TV, speculating as to whether you were J-Hopes new girlfriend.

Making the mistake of skimming a few stories you reach the comments section and your stomach nearly flips at what you read. Comments about how you weren’t pretty enough to be dating Hoseok, how you must just be a cleaner or employed to help set up for his party, people saying you didn’t deserve to be dating him.

You have to close the search engine and instead head over to Instagram. This didn’t prove to be much better. Your account was set to private but overnight you had gained hundreds of new follow requests. Skimming through them you realised you didn’t know any of them, 90% seemed to be BTS fan pages. Again messages had been sent to your Instagram page from people saying that you didn’t deserve Hoseok and that he was too good for you, that you weren’t pretty and he would never be interested in you. There were a few nice comments but you seemed to be blind to them.

Still in shock, toast forgotten, you decide to put your phone down as tears start to well in your eyes. How could you have been so stupid to think he was a normal person? You knew that he was someone and yet you chose to ignore it. You should have googled him and then none of this would have come as a surprise.

What hurt the most though was that he didn’t bring it up. There had been plenty of times when he could have told you. Did he not trust you enough? Did he think you would go to the magazines and sell some sort of story about him? Maybe he didn’t know you as well as you thought, you certainly didn’t know him as well as you thought. Thinking back to all the time you had spent with him, all the times you spoken to him, kissed him, slept with him. Was that all it was to him, because to you it was more than just sex.

You remember the time you watched films together. How you had watched Notting Hill and how you had discussed what it would be like to run into a celebrity. He had laughed at you, you didn’t really think much about it at the time, but now you realised he was laughing at you. Laughing at the fact that you were living with a celebrity that seemingly everyone knew. Laughing at the fact the night before you had been at a party full of famous people and you hadn’t even noticed. If there was any moment that he could have told you it was surely then. But he didn’t tell you, merely mocked you almost behind your back. You could almost imagine everyone from the party laughing at you behind your back, at how stupid you looked, how naive you were.

You feel embarrassment wash over you at the thoughts, when something flashes up on the screen. A letter with the header BigHit, the news reader reads out the statement that had been released just minutes ago from the company Hoseok works for. It denies that you two are dating, which is true to an extent. They say that you are just friends, that is all, nothing more. You lived in the same building and that’s how you had met, which again was true to an extent. They seemed to emphasis throughout that the two of you were just friends, nothing more, and nothing more will ever happen.

The statement was the last straw for you. Hearing it read out to you in such a plain way made the tears that were welling in your eyes escape, rolling down your cheeks. Without thinking you pick up your phone and call the one person you feel you can speak to.

“Lily?” You question even though you know it’s her.

“What’s wrong?” You hear the worry thick in her voice as it’s obvious you are crying.

“Can I move back in?” You ask. “Just until I find somewhere else to live.”

“What’s happened? Why do you want to move out? Nothing bad has happened has it, you’re not hurt or anything?” Lily questions, her mind going to all the worst possible scenarios.

“No, I’m fine. I just don’t think I can live here anymore,” you continue to cry.

“Of course you can move back in,” she says, slight relief in her voice, though you can hear she is still worried about what would have happened for you to want to move out.

“Thanks,” you say. “I’ll explain everything when I see you. I think I’m going to pack up and head over now.”

“Ok,” Lily’s voice is full of confusion, but she doesn’t deny you moving back. “Do you need me to come and help?”

“No, it’s fine. I won’t be long. I’ll text you when I’m on my way,” you say before hanging up, a fresh wave of tears escaping your eyes as you look around the room.

Looking at your phone the main thing you notice is the fact that there are no new messages. No contact from Hoseok. None from any of the other boys. He must really not care about you, you think as you stand and start to pack up all the belongings you could carry. You’d get a taxi to help.

Looking around your room one last time, it feels weird leaving it bare, used to the bright colours it normally held. It looked so much bigger without all your belongs, even though you didn’t have much stuff, and you were leaving some of it behind, the room looked sad and empty.

Knocking on the door, you hardly see Lily through your teary eyes when she opens the door. You aren’t even sure it was Lily, it could have been Eddie. But you know it’s her when you are pulled into a tight hug and hear Lily asking what the matter is. Instead of answering her verbally you drop the bags that are in your hands and hug her just as tightly.

It takes a while for you to calm down enough to explain what has got you into that state. Eddie having to help Lily calm you, making you a tea and grabbing tissues while Lily just continues to hug you. You are such a reck that you have to make sure that they know that nothing serious had happened to you.

“I’m over reacting I know,” you sniffle when you finish telling them what happened.

“Not over reacting. I’m more upset you didn’t tell us sooner,” Lily says, and you shoot her a tear-filled glare.

“I don’t think this is the time for jokes,” Eddie says.

“Ok, too soon, sorry,” Lily says. “But no, you’re really not over reacting. He should have told you sooner. He shouldn’t have kept you in the dark about who he was. He shouldn’t have used your naivety in his favour. And he should have at least messaged you by now to check how you are, if his company has released a statement then he will know what’s happened. If I was you, I would have been just as upset, just as pissed off.”

“But I was naïve wasn’t I?” You say. “I knew he was someone. Even if I didn’t know who he was I could easily have googled it, but I thought I was respecting his privacy. But maybe he wanted me to google him and save him the job, maybe he assumed I knew who he was. Maybe he just didn’t care.”

“Even if he assumed you knew, he should have spoken to you about it,” Lily talks firmly, as if it will help to get her words into your head. “He shouldn’t have let you go through that in the dark and alone.”

A few more tears escape your eyes as she speaks, a mixture of her words hitting true and also remembering all the things that had happened. You didn’t want to feel this way towards Hoseok, you genuinely started to like the man and yet he did this to you. You wanted to believe the best in Hoseok, wanted to believe that he wouldn’t hurt you, wanted to believe that he cared for you as much as you cared for him. But how could you believe any of that when he had done everything he had done.

“Come on, we’ll get some trash food and watch a trash film and sleep in here tonight,” Lily says when she sees the fresh wave of tears your eyes.

You look at her and nod your head at her idea, silent tears still streaming down your face. No matter how much she jokes at inappropriate times, Lily did always come through in the end.

You moped around the flat for a while, ignoring your phone and the outside world. Only turning up for work, and even then you wouldn’t really talk to any colleagues unless you had to. You essentially became a hermit, drawing in to yourself. Even Lily struggled to get in contact with you, and she lived in the same flat as you.

You didn’t want to go outside, almost in fear of some sort of repeat of what had happened, so you would stay inside when you could. You knew Lily worried about you, always being extra happy when she saw you, asking about your day, telling you funny things that had happened. And you pretended as best you could to be OK around her, but you knew she wasn’t buying it.

A couple of weeks after the incident you find yourself in the flat alone. In your pyjamas, hair in a messy bun on top of your head, you decide to not go to the door when you hear someone knock. The knocking become more insistent, getting louder the more you ignore it so you decide to see who it is.

Jimin looks slightly taken aback when you open the door, clearly shocked by your unkept appearance. He quickly makes his face neutral though, making it seem like he wasn’t shocked in the first place.

“Hi,” he says sheepishly.

“What the hell are you doing here Jimin?” You say, your voice flat.

“A warm welcome. Not going to invite me in?”

You roll your eyes at him, deciding to remain silent.

“Ok, sorry, I know you’re annoyed at me but I’ll just be a minute,” he says. “Please,” he pleads.

You take a small step to the side, enough so that he can walk past you, which he does quickly in case you change your mind. When he is past you he spins on his heels so he is looking at you and it’s the first time that you see how worried and stressed he is.

“You need to talk to Hobi,” he says.

“I’m barely talking to you, why would I want to talk to him,” you walk past him to the living room.

“Because if you think you look like shit, he looks ten times worse,” he says as he follows you.

“Thanks,” you say sarcastically, knowing you looked like shit, but didn’t need him to confirm it.

“Have you really not seen anything?” He takes a seat on your sofa, not awaiting an invitation, though you wouldn’t have provided one.

“Why would I?” You say.

A sigh leaves Jimins mouth and a hand comes up to run over his face.

“Jesus,” he says. “You really just need to talk to Hobi. He’s been trying to contact you and you haven’t replied. We’ve all been trying to get hold of you.”

“That’s because I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t really want to talk to any of you.”

“Don’t you want to hear what he has to say? He is so sorry and I know that he just wants to -”

“I honestly don’t care,” you cut him off.

“You can’t think I believe that,” he rolls his eyes at you. “You look like shit, and you can’t tell me that has nothing to do with Hobi.”

“Yeah, I already thanked you for that,” you say.

“Just come to the flat with me,” he continues.

“I’m not interested Jimin.”

“When will you be ready? You can’t run from this forever. You need to talk to him at some point.”

“Do I? I don’t think I ever need to see him again if I don’t want to.”

“OK. Yeah, you’re right,” Jimin nods his head as he speaks. “You never have to see him, talk to him, be near him again. But is that really what you want?” He pauses as if wanting a response, which you don’t provide. “He’s sorry. For everything. He doesn’t want your forgiveness, he just wants to explain.”

“He doesn’t want my forgiveness?” You almost laugh. “Then what does he want? He wants to speak to me, to ‘explain’ everything, but he doesn’t want my forgiveness? He wants to ease his conscious, is that it? If he can just talk to me and ‘explain’ everything then he’ll feel like he’s done the right thing and then he’ll feel better about it all and can move on with his life. Is that it?”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Jimin sighs at how you have twisted his words. “It will just explain everything.”

“Explain what?”

“Just talk to Hobi,” Jimin stands up as he says the words and you are surprised that he doesn’t want to stay longer to convince you. But he can tell that no matter what he says in this moment you wouldn’t really listen to what he was saying, only hearing what you wanted to hear.

“I really don’t want to talk to him,” you say, tears starting to gather in your eyes, a sudden wave of emotion washing over you.

Jimin looks down at you and he starts to walk toward you, obviously wanting to hug you or comfort you in some way, but stops when you hold out a hand in his direction.

“Please,” it’s now your turn to plead. “I feel like I’ve been through so much shit. And maybe you think I’ve run away from everything, but if I had stayed everything would have escalated. I don’t know what Hoseok has told you, but if he has told you everything then I would hope you would at least be able to see where I am coming from.”

“He told me everything,” Jimins voice comes out softer and quiet. Looking up at him you can see the concern written over his face and you have to look away when you feel the tears well in your eyes. “But I also don’t think you know everything.”

“Then tell me,” you say with defeated sigh.

“Talk to Hobi,” his voice is firm as he says the words for what feels like the hundredth time.

Fiddling with your fingers, picking at your nails, you avoid Jimins eyes as you think over his words. Maybe you were running from your problems. Maybe talking to Hoseok was the right thing to do. Maybe you needed to meet him and talk through everything. Maybe if you talk to him you might start to feel less crap and might actually get back to a semi normal life.

When you meet Jimins eyes now you see hope in place of concern.

“OK,” you say and have to rush your next words out when you see Jimin almost jump for joy. “But I’m not meeting him alone. I would ask to meet him in a public place, but I think that’s out of the question. So instead, I don’t want to see him alone.”

“OK, I understand,” Jimin, elongates the word showing he doesn’t fully understand but is going along with it as you have agreed to meet Hoseok. “How about meeting on neutral ground. Come to the offices after practice one day and we can go to the café in the building,” at your unsure expression he continues. “I’ll be there, you can ask Lily to come too. We’ll sit close by but it will also mean you can talk about everything without feeling like we’re all listening.”

Not quite neutral ground but you guess it’s the best you were going to get. It was almost like he had already planned the whole thing out, it all sounded too perfect for him to have come up with the idea on the spot.

“OK,” you agree, because although you still had doubts, and although you really didn’t want to meet Hoseok, you knew that you probably should.

A wide smile spreads across Jimins face, showing off his bright white teeth.

“You can set the date. Whenever you are ready,” Jimin says. “But shall we say within the next two weeks,” because he doesn’t trust that you won’t leave it months.

“I’ll tell you a day to meet within the next week,” you better his offer, wanting it over and done already, knowing this meeting will play on your mind all the time.

“Great,” Jimins smile seems to grow at your words, glad that his plan to come and see you in person had actually paid off.

As promised you messaged Jimin a date that you were happy to meet. Having spoken to Lily, she agreed that she would come with you for support. Turning up to the BigHit building, although nervous, you felt like things were happening on your terms.

The last time you had seen Hoseok was when you were in the flat. As you walk into the canteen with Lily you spot Jimin sat at a table across the room. He gives you a wave when he spots the two of you, and as he does the man that had his back to you turns round to look.

Your walk falters slightly as you see his face. Jimin wasn’t lying when he said that he looked 10 times worse than you. Even in this public setting, where he had obviously made a bit of an effort, he didn’t look his normal self. The closer you got the more detail you could see. His usual smile wasn’t on his face, his lips down turned even as he looked at you. There were dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. His hair had a slight grease to it and it flopped down around his face unstyled. His clothes were baggy and dark, meaning nothing about him was bright.

Nerves through the roof as it is, the appearance of the seemingly broken man didn’t help your feelings. As you grew ever closer to the table Jimin stood up, at least he had a smile on his face you thought.

“Hey guys,” Jimin says, almost too brightly. “Thanks for coming. Lily, fancy getting a coffee with me?”

Not waiting for a reply, Jimin walks up to Lily. Giving you a small smile and squeezing your shoulder gently, Lily turns to get a coffee and sit away from you.

Sitting down opposite Hoseok, silence falls over the two of you as you both take each other in. You were unsure how you should feel. Walking in you felt nerves, seeing Hoseok you almost felt sad for him, and now sat in front of him you start to feel anger at the situation.

“I’m so sorry,” Hoseok breaks the silence and his voice sounds just as broken as his appearance. “I’m so, so, sorry.”

You give him a small nod, not trusting your voice in that moment to speak.

“I was an idiot. I didn’t think about anything and that was so stupid of me. I should have thought and I didn’t,” he carries on when you don’t speak.

You continue to nod at his words. “You were an idiot,” you say and a tiny smile appears on his face, though you are not trying to be funny. “But I was an idiot too. I was blind and naïve, but you really hurt me,” you carry on and the small smile falls from his face.

“You weren’t naïve,” Hoseok says.

“Everyone keeps saying that,” you roll your eyes at him. “I was naïve. I knew you were someone and I chose to respect your privacy or whatever the hell I thought I was doing. But no matter what stupid mistake I made, you should have told me.”

“I know,” Hoseok sighs.

“You had months. I can understand at the start maybe. But you got to know me, I opened up to you and you still didn’t trust me enough.”

“It wasn’t about trust.”

“Then what was it about?”

“Do you know how many people know who I am?” Hoseok asks. “I don’t mean that to sound big headed, but I can’t walk down the street without someone recognising me. And then you come along and had no idea who I was, or at least I assumed you didn’t by the way you treated me. And then you also had no idea who anyone was at my birthday,” he shrugs lightly. “Everyone was against me getting a roommate from the start but I decided to risk it, and when I met you, I was so glad I did. And then I got to actually know you and people started to tell me they thought I should tell you who I was, what I do for a living, and I think I convinced myself that maybe you already you knew, or if you didn’t it would ruin everything and you would treat me differently. And as time went on it felt more and more like I shouldn’t tell you, that I’d left it too late. And then we kissed.” He pauses and looks at you. You remain staring at him, taking in his words and trying to digest them. Not wanting to show any emotion at his words you look at a spot behind him, finding it easier to keep a passive face that way.

“And the next day we watched films and you were talking about Notting Hill and I thought now's the time that I can tell you. The perfect opportunity to slip it into conversation. But you said that you hated the thought of having a life like Julia Roberts had in the film. Hated the thought of everyone swarming you and I couldn’t do that to you, I couldn’t tell you who I was and ruin everything. So I went back to ignoring it all, pretending I was someone else, that I didn’t need to tell you who I was. And then everything went to shit. And it’s all my fault. And I don’t want you to feel sorry for me or like you owe me anything, I just wanted to explain,” he says and then remains silent, wanting some form of response from you.

“Jimin said that there was still stuff that I didn’t know, but I know all of this,” you say and you can’t ignore the slight flicker of hurt that crosses his face. Because truthfully you didn’t know everything, you didn’t know his feelings on the whole situation, but you still couldn’t get your head around the fact that he had chosen to not tell you about it.

Hoseok runs a hand down his face in frustration and the next words that leave his lips sound a bit harsher. “I don’t know what you came here to hear Y/N. That I’m sorry? Because that obviously isn’t enough. That I care for you? Because I do care for you,” his words start to soften and he has an almost desperation in his eyes. “I don’t think I have ever felt this way about anyone. I feel almost protective over you, but I can’t protect you from this. This is my life and I hate that it’s so crappy that it pushed you away.”

The guard that you had put up when you entered the room starts to slowly slacken at his words. You had wanted to remain strong, and you thought the best way to do that was to be defensive, to throw his words back at him. But as you listen and watch him you realise that that was not the best thing to do at all.

“I care for you too,” you admit. “And that’s why it hurt so much. I didn’t care what everyone was saying. Yes, I’m not used to it and it did affect me. But what really hurt was that it felt like you didn’t care enough to warn me. Didn’t care enough about me to open up to me.”

“I’m sorry,” is all he can manage to get out.

“I felt like I was alone. I’d met the rest of your band and thought they were nice and not even they came to my side when everything exploded. But it was the statement I read from you that really got me. Friends, is I think the word I read. Friends don’t kiss friends Hoseok,” you feel almost stronger as you let out the words that had been running through your mind for the past few weeks. “Friends don’t sleep with friends,” you pause to see the slight cringe that crosses his face at those words. “And even if we were just friends, which I would have been happy with, friends don’t just abandon each other it a shit storm like that.”

“I know this is going to sound like a cop out and it is no excuse, but it was all the company. We don’t write those press releases and however much influence it looks like I have, I have no say,” he says.

“Yeah, you’re right, it’s not really an excuse,” you say. “There are ways you can put out your own thoughts, you're not some silenced puppet that is controlled by a company. And like I said, it’s more than that, you weren’t there for me when I needed you most.”

“Because you left,” he says. “I came home to your bare room. I came home as soon as I found out what had happened and from what I could see you didn’t want to hear from me. I thought you wanted some space so I gave you that, and then when I tried to get hold of you, you didn’t want to hear from me.”

He watches as you try to commute what he was saying. Your eyes focused on your hands where your fingers pick at the skin around your nails. He can see that you had genuinely believed that he would have left you in that situation, that he wouldn’t have tried to be there for you and his heart almost crushes under how he must have made you feel, regrets every decision he made.

But as the silence extends, he feels a small glimmer of hope, you no longer snapping back at him or cutting off his words. His arm reaches across the table and a hand is placed over yours, stopping your fingers from picking at your nails. You don’t push his hand away, secretly enjoying the feeling, but your eyes remain on the hands rather than looking up at the man.

“I miss you,” he says. “I miss coming back to the flat and seeing a bright post-it note on the side. I miss eating your food, even if it’s not always that best,” he squeezes your hand to show he’s joking, and for the first time a genuine smile comes to his face at your reaction. “I miss talking to you, even if it just over text. I miss your smell around the flat. I miss having days off from work and hanging out with you around the flat. I miss kissing you. I miss waking up to you in my bed. I just miss you,” he says with a small sigh.

You are shocked by his words, not expecting him to have said any of that, especially while holding your hand. You hadn’t expected to come and forgive Hoseok. Weren’t expecting to feel anything but anger. But you had fooled yourself into thinking that the feelings you had for him were only skin deep. But over the short time you had known him he had managed to worm his way into your life like no one ever had.

As you sit in silence, Hoseok starts to grow nervous, worried his words had done more damage than good. He starts to take back his hand, releasing yours from his grip, but you hold onto it before it can get too far. His eyes look up at you and you can see the shock.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and though you pause to try and hold back the emotion threatening to spill out Hoseok doesn’t say anything and waits for you to carry on. “I ran because I was scared. And I didn’t want to talk to you because I was scared. And I pushed you away because I was scared. And I thought it was for the best, for both of us to move on and forget everything. And I’m still scared. But I think maybe I was wrong.”

Hoseoks hand grips yours tighter and you get some comfort from the feeling.

“I’m scared too you know?” He says and you look at him, seeing the sincerity in his words. “And I haven’t been perfect through this. We both made bad decisions through this, but we’re here now,” you nod slowly at his words, agreeing with what he was saying. “I get if you don’t want to, and maybe it's too soon, but you know that the room is still there for you to move back into.”

You had kind of expected him to say this at some point during the meeting, though you had imagined he would be pleading more than he currently was. What you hadn’t expected was that you would almost want to take him up on the offer. You had thought you had come to terms with the fact that you would never step back into the flat again, yet here you were wanting to move back in.

“There’s no rush,” he says, his thumb slowly stroking the back of your hand. “But I would really love you to come back. I do really miss you.”

Looking down at Hoseoks thumb rubbing against your skin you think back to all the times that Lily had told you off for overthinking. Having tried to head her words, as overthinking was a trait you didn’t like about yourself, you look back up at Hoseok.

“Ok,” you say.

“Ok?” He questions, shocked and needing clarification.

“I’ll come back to the flat,” you say and the all too familiar smile spreads across his face and it was like the sun had arisen, everything seeming to be brighter. “I’ll move back, but things will be different. I can’t just jump back to how we were, it will take me time to trust you fully again,” you warn.

The smile doesn’t falter at your words, Hoseoks head nodding firmly in agreement. “Of course, I would expect nothing else,” he says.

With that he stands up from his chair and you are confused until he starts to round the table towards you. Taking the hands he had just dropped, he pulls you up, encompassing you in hug. Your head pressed firmly into his chest, his leaning down so his nose presses against your scalp, you almost felt you were home.

“I did really miss this,” he whispers into your hair.

“Seems like you two have made up,” Jimins voice sounds out and you can almost hear the smugness that his plan had worked out.

Pulling yourself out of Hoseoks arms you give him one last look, a smile finally coming to your face, as you turn to Jimin.

“Just about,” you say.

The second time you move into the flat your flatmate is there to great you. Much like the first time, Lily and Eddie help you carry all your belongs. But this time, instead of being greeted by an empty flat, you are greeted by Hoseok.

“Hey,” he beams as he opens the door to you, holding it wide so you can all shuffle in. “Hope you found the place ok,” he jokes.

“We got a bit lost in the lobby, shitty instructions given by the owner,” you joke back, happy that the two of you are at least back to some form of normality.

“My apologise,” he continues to smile as he takes some bags off of you, heading towards your room. “At least you’re all here now. Do you want a drink or anything?” He asks as you all place your bags in your room.

“I’ll have a tea,” Lily asks, Eddie agreeing with her.

“I’ll make a pot,” Hoseok says. “Yoongi is in the living room. Go through and I’ll bring it all in.”

“I’ll help,” you say, not letting him dispute as you walk to the kitchen.

Hoseok joins you in the kitchen, and though you are both busy boiling the kettle and getting mugs out the cupboard, you enjoy just being around him.

“I’m happy to have you back,” Hoseok breaks the silence in the room, when nearly everything is ready.

“It feels a bit weird, but I’m happy to be back too,” you admit, deciding you wanted to be more open with your feelings around him.

“You don’t need to worry,” he says, and the small step he takes towards you doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I hope not,” you stare at him as he takes another small step towards you.

Now within touching distance, Hoseoks hand comes to rest on the counter just in front of yours on the counter.

“I did really miss you,” his voice is soft and he is staring at your hand as his inches ever closer.

“You’ve mentioned that once or twice,” you would laugh if the tension in the room wasn’t so high.

His finger finally comes into contact with yours and it’s like a spark runs through you. His hand encompasses yours and his thumb slowly strokes the back of your hand. Even though you look down at your entwined hands, you still see him step closer to your body, your chests almost touching now.

“The teas ready, we should take it through,” you whisper, still looking at your hands.

“Yeah, we should go,” his voice is just as quiet as yours.

Neither of you make any attempt to move. You finally look up into Hoseoks eyes, only to find he is already looking at you.

“Can I kiss you?” Hoseok asks.

Yours eyes widen in shock at the words. “I- I- I don’t,” you stutter slightly and a smile comes to Hoseoks face as he notices the effect he is having on you. “I don’t want to get hurt,” you admit. “Don’t want to rush into anything.”

Hoseoks hand leaves your hand so he can sweep some hair from off your face.

“Don’t overthink it,” he echo's the words Lily always says to you. “But if you don’t want to, then don’t feel like you have to.”

You remain quiet whilst you think over his words. His hand remains on your face and you continue to look into each others eyes.

“But I want to,” you whisper.

The smile that was on his face grows and he starts to lean into you. You close your eyes as his lips finally touch yours.

Finally pulling away, you suddenly feel shy and smile at the ground. His hand comes under your chin and lifts it up so that you have to look him in the eye.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” he says, eyes flicking between your eyes, finally resting on your lips. Leaning in for one last kiss he says, “let's take the tea through.”

Taking a step back he picks up the tea and some mugs, you help by picking up the remaining mugs. Following him through to the living room you finally feel like you are home. Happy when you see your friends talking happily with Yoongi, laughing when Hoseok makes a joke as he enters the room. Glad that you decided to move back in, even if things were hard, you knew that Hoseok would be there for you and would help you through it all. Deciding that it was one of the best decisions to be his flatmate.

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

Text

Callisto (Part 8 - Recovery)

This one is over 4600 words to the point I considered cutting it in half. But lots happens so I’ve posted it whole. Now I just need to play catch up because I had a crappy couple of weeks and now I’m only about 500 words ahead of this. I have a few days off coming up, so wish me luck :D

As always, many thanks to the amazing @janetm74 @scribbles97 @tsarinatorment @vegetacide and science officer @onereyofstarlight You guys have helped me make this what it is. I so hope you are enjoying it.

For the first time in this story, I’ve slightly gone off plan and have had to add in a chapter because of it. Here’s hoping I can keep this going. We are now at 35,000 words which is approximately halfway.

Warnings: some whump.

Thank you for all your support with this fic. I doubt I could do it without all the cheerleading and support. You guys are just amazing ::hugs you so much::

Enjoy!

-o-o-o-

Jeff Tracy was a man of action and drive. Eight years in the depths of space had eroded the edges of his impatience, but hadn’t eliminated it.

So, sitting in Callisto Base watching his family work and not having anything much to do wasn’t in the best interests of his mental health.

But what could he do?

He had set up a kind of mobile control despite not being in control of anything. John had linked him into everything and he and Lee had pretty much taken over one of the command centres of the Base.

Grae hovered the entire time.

Jeff watched the well-oiled machine that was International Rescue with no small amount of pride. He watched them track down the lifesigns, survey the site, drill extra access, deploy Thunderbird Four and-

“Gordon!”

“Guys, get out of there! Now!”

The holographic image of the lake swelled and swept his sons away.

Jeff was on his feet without thinking.

Three of the five life signs on the strategy map darted erratically, one coming to an abrupt stop against the cavern wall, while the two others travelled some distance up the main tunnel before stopping suddenly.

“Thunderbird Five!”

“Please hold.”

Jeff’s eyes widened. “John!”

Data was suddenly thrown at his terminal. His sons’ vitals sprung up and he was relieved to find them all strong. A sitrep appeared a moment later tracking where the wave had come from, probabilities of a recurrence, a site safety scan and a feed from the Dragonfly Pod.

Its lights were still on, one shining at an angle across the tunnel it had landed in, the other reflected back a glare of white and a blue as beautiful as an Earth sky in the early evening.

The first one explained why.

One of the Dragonfly’s legs was sticking up out of a solidified white mass.

Of ice.

The math added up in his head very abruptly and he was suddenly moving.

It was a sign that Lee and he still had that unspoken communication as the engineer didn’t even ask and just moved with him, following his mad run to the hangar without a word.

Alan and Gordon had left the second Dragonfly pod at the Base and Jeff was ever so grateful.

“What’s…where are you going?” Grae’s eyes were wide as they all skidded to the side of the pod.

“Three of my sons are buried in ice. Where do you think I’m going?”

He didn’t bother to wait for an answer, climbing up into the cockpit with a leap of agility he hadn’t felt for years. With a nod from Lee, he snapped the hatch shut and grabbed controls he hadn’t used outside of a simulator in over a decade.

It was like returning home.

The Dragonfly took off for the airlock far above as the doors began their opening sequence without request.

-o-o-o-

John reacted the way he always reacted.

Without thought. There was no time for thought.

Hands moving across his console dragged as much information as he could from the static-fouled scans.

He blinked as the interference cleared somewhat.

A worried plea from his father John had no time for. A flick of his wrist and he mirrored his sources to his father’s terminal.

All three of his brothers had come to a halt. Gordon was still in the cavern, Four slammed up against a wall. Scott and Virgil were in the tunnel. Vital signs were still good, but there was no response from any of them.

No matter how much he yelled into comms.

One of the beacons had been swept away, causing the interference to intensify in that area, but the readings he had added up to a scenario that echoed past hell.

His father was already moving.

“John?” Alan’s voice was professional but sported an edge of terror.

“I’m coming down, Thunderbird Three.” He grabbed his helmet. “Dad is on his way out there. Do we have enough parts for a third Dragonfly?”

His brother’s voice solidified with the plan of action. “Yeah, Virg overcompensated as always. He packed stuff in as if he was planning to stay out here for a couple of years.”

John didn’t answer that. “Assemble another pod. I’ll see you down there asap.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.”

“Eos, align the Excel with the danger zone. Initiate elevator deployment.” He flung himself through his ‘bird. “I need as much information as you can give me. Relay on descent.”

“Yes, John. It appears that the water volume of the lake increased dramatically before the incident, but has now returned to its previous status.”

John slipped through the airlock to the elevator. He hit his comms. “Michael, there has been an incident. I am going down to the surface. You have the Excel.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five. I will monitor.”

“Liaise with Eos.” He killed the connection as he entered the cockpit, his seat rotating towards him in welcome. “Eos, be nice.”

“I don’t like him.”

“Too bad. We need him.”

She grumbled in a way reminiscent of Virgil before coffee.

Maybe she had been taking notes.

He ignored it. “Send all information to my terminal here.” The elevator shuddered as it disengaged from Five and began its descent. The cockpit lit up with holograms.

He eyed the replay of the static-riddled scan as the lake swelled and overcame his brothers.

Four had been swept out of the water and washed ashore violently. Scott and Virgil, standing on that shore, hadn’t stood a chance.

One gloved hand reached up to poke the playback, pause and rewind. There had been a local seismic disturbance just before, epicentre to the north-east by a few hundred metres. Minor on an Earth scale, but since Callisto supposedly hadn’t had any major crustal movements in eons, it was unusual in the extreme.

“Eos, pull the Base seismic records. Have they detected anything like this before?”

The elevator’s thrusters fired as it hit the faint atmospheric boundary.

“Their system has recorded several incidents, but nothing of this magnitude.” Eos’ voice shifted to one of concern. “Incidents have been increasing recently. There have been three in the past month. John, one was recorded by the Base system the same day as the five members of their crew disappeared.”

“What? Why wasn’t that mentioned?”

“Unknown.”

He stared at the scan. “Do we have any source for more water to reach the lake?” It hurt his physics sensibilities. Water should not exist as a fluid in this environment at all.

“None within sensor range.”

Damnit. He was used to being able to see everything.

“Deploy a net of probes. I want everything in a ten thousand kilometre radius as crystal clear as you can get it.” If there was a pun in there, he refused to acknowledge it.

“Yes, John. That will cover the entire surface of the moon.”

“Exactly.” Something weird was happening here and he wanted to know what. If he had to throw everything Thunderbird Five had at it, he would.

The elevator thrusters fired again and the moon appeared around his windows, followed by the striking red of Three.

“Alan, are you ready?”

“Pod assembled, Thunderbird Five. Awaiting your orders.” There was no tremble in his brother’s voice, but there was an anxious impatience.

The elevator touched down with a soft thud. Eos’ control was perfect. “Thank you, Eos.”

“You are welcome, John.” A pause. “Be safe.”

His lips tightened a little. “FAB, Thunderbird Five.”

She didn’t answer as he stepped out onto the moon.

-o-o-o-

Alan didn’t remember his mother, but he had four brothers who did and he knew far too well the pain of what had happened when she was taken from them.

The fact that three of those brothers were now buried in the space-ice equivalent of an avalanche was absolutely terrifying.

The water had managed to travel some distance before solidifying and trapping everything. As far as Alan could tell, his brothers were encased in ice.

If they had been on Earth their lives would be in peril. In space, they were at least wearing their spacesuits. But spacesuits could be damaged.

He didn’t let himself follow that train of thought. He couldn’t afford it right now. Instead, he followed procedure.

That was what procedure was for.

It was a matter of minutes before John was stepping off the space elevator, his tall brother as confident and professional as ever.

Part of Alan was still surprised when John directed him to take control of the pod. Perhaps it was because Alan was used to the control freak habits of his two eldest brothers?

“Get us down there Alan.” John was distracted, glaring at his wrist projector.

He didn’t need to be told twice. With John secure in the backseat, Alan threw them down the gaping hole his ‘bird had dug, through the mole’s extension and into the dry cavern below.

The dragonfly latched onto the beacons and they darted down the correct tunnel, glittering rock streaking past them as their twin beams of bright light hit everything.

Including the mass of white that that suddenly swelled up on one side of the tunnel.

It wasn’t quite a wave, more a slosh of water, frozen in motion.

“What the hell?”

“Edge down the tunnel a little further, Scott is...” But they were already there and the flash of blue and red was obvious.

His eldest brother was embedded in the ice halfway up the wall. Alan only had breath as he yanked the dragonfly to an abrupt halt, her claws leaving gouges in the ice. “Scott!”

He was out of the pod as fast humanly possible.

One of his brother’s arms was dangling free and Alan reached for it. “Scott?”

Limp, gloved fingers.

John already had a hand laser out and the red of its beam was cutting ice in a loose silhouette of their brother’s body. As they worked him free, bits of ice fell away to the floor. It was fragmentary. Somewhere between solid and hard packed snow. The water had obviously frozen so quickly, it was aerated enough to stiffen fully.

Fortunately, because Alan had the sudden realisation that spacesuits or no, if his brothers couldn’t expand their ribcages, they couldn’t breathe regardless. The sudden relief sprouted new terror.

John helped Alan lower their big brother to the floor.

“Sc…Scott?”

For a second, Alan thought it was John speaking, but his astronaut brother answered, voice urgent. “Virgil?”

No response.

“Thunderbird Two, status!” John was moving, long legs leaping in the low gravity, propelling him back to the pod. He reached inside and pulled out a large torch. “Alan, attend to Scott.” And then his brother was running further down the tunnel, light bouncing ahead of him, holographic map hovering over his wrist.

A further spark of terror was smothered in Alan’s brain as he turned back to his prone and unconscious eldest brother and began chipping and melting ice to free him.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was lying flat on his back staring at white lit up by his helmet lights.

It took him a few solid minutes to realise exactly what he was looking at. His brain felt sluggish and was hurting like hell. He really needed more painkillers.

He automatically tried to calculate how long it was since his last dose and came up blank. There was time missing.

This realisation was quickly followed by the discovery that he wasn’t able to move.

God, his brain was slow. The first thought that came to mind was that yet another building had fallen on him. It happened far more often than he was willing to admit.

But then where was his exosuit?

He blinked slowly.

One arm was caught at an awkward angle and was protesting its position. His legs seemed to be splayed out evenly, though and his other arm seemed happy enough. Hell, there wasn’t really even much weight on him. He had definitely had worse.

But his chest was tight and breathing shallow. Something had him in its grip and he had to force down the visuals that came with that.

Not being able to move always sucked.

He really wished his head would stop hurting.

“Sc..Scott?” It was instinctual. In trouble, call for his big brother.

Need a hand.

“Virgil?” John’s voice. Johnny had the power to call Scotty, to get him help.

He opened his mouth to answer, but something shifted in the ice...ice...it was ice! Memories slammed into him of ice and snow and trapped and oh god...his sluggish brain couldn’t handle it.

“Thunderbird Two, status!”

John’s voice shook him.

Um, um…his heart was beating a mile a minute. He fought for control.

“Virgil? Son?”

Dad.

His father’s voice set off both relief and fear. Relief because of a deep-seated trust in his own father.

Fear because where was Scott? Scott should be here.

But Scott had been with him when the whatever had hit him.

Had hit him.

Water.

Space.

Callisto.

Sparkling crystal flickered in his mind’s eye.

“Scott?”

“Your brother is in good hands.”

Even his sluggish brain could see that as a non-answer. “Dad?”

“We’re digging you out.”

Oh.

As if to emphasize that statement there was a red flash and the world around him hissed. He closed his eyes as the light stabbed into his hurting head.

“Dad? Gordon?”

“Nearly there, son.”

Virgil’s heart clenched.

They uncovered his head first and Virgil teared up at the sight of his father’s worried expression above him. John was there as well, darting in and out of sight, obviously the source of the laser light.

“Johnny…”

There was a crack in the ice.

Ice.

His mind blanked in terror again.

Too many memories.

Far too many.

“Virgil! Look at me!” Dad’s voice held command and he had no choice but to obey. “You are safe.” His hand was being held and Virgil realised it had been cut from the ice. He tried to move his other arm, every heavy-lifting muscle he had straining against its restriction.

Another crack of stressed ice, a yelp from John and Virgil’s arm was suddenly free, ice fragments raining down on him.

Encouraged, he began working on his feet.

“Virgil, stay still just a moment longer.” John’s voice was strained.

Virgil wanted out.

“Virgil.” His Dad grabbed his flailing hand forced him to look at him, grey eyes reflecting the white ice. “Hold still, John is cutting you out.”

Yes, John was cutting him out. Red flickered amongst the white. Virgil swallowed and attempted to get the panic under control and found that he was trembling.

Damn.

He was a rescue operative. He should be calm.

The remaining weight on his belly was removed and he was finally able to take a deep breath.

It helped ever so much.

He closed his eyes and sought his centre.

And fell back on procedure.

If Scott was down, International Rescue was now his responsibility. He needed to be in control.

In control.

By the time John lifted the remaining ice off his legs, Virgil had found himself again. He clambered out of the ice as fast as he possibly could and shot to his feet.

And nearly fell flat on his face for the effort.

His father grabbed him and prevented his fall. “Virgil, sit down.”

There was a flicker of a medscanner, but Virgil was too busy assessing the situation to care. “Scott?”

“With Alan. Unconscious, but safe.”

“Gordon?”

“Still in the cave. Thunderbird Four is silent. I sent Lee. John is following him down.”

Damn. Virgil shook the last of the ice stuck to his uniform, straightened his baldric and took a step towards the direction of the cave, but was halted by a firm grip on his arm.

“You’re not going down there.”

Virgil spun on one foot and the world in all its glittering glory spun with him. “Gordon is down there.”

“John and Lee have him. You were buried in ice, Virgil.”

To his ultimate shame, Virgil shuddered at the concept.

But Gordon...

That grip on his arm tightened. “You’re coming with me.”

Virgil straightened, forcing steel into his spine. “With Scott unconscious, I am in command. I need to be down there.”

“No, you don’t.” His father took a step back up the tunnel, obviously intending to drag Virgil if he had to.

Virgil was no longer the scrappy kid who wanted to play with his paints instead of cleaning his room, and he stood fast.

His father had been in space a long time and his strength had paid the price.

There was no competition.

Buried in ice or not.

“Dad, I am going down to help with Gordon. Scott needs you. I’ll meet you up there the moment Gordon is safe.”

The need to be in two places at once, or more correctly four places, at least, was a common feeling Virgil had to ignore.

Gordon was the priority.

“I need an analysis of what happened. There was a wave. Why? See to Scott and Alan.” He reached up and gently peeled his father’s grip of his arm. “Thank you for helping me. Now I have to go help my brothers.” Turning he hit his comms, asked John for a sit rep and hurried down the tunnel.

He did not look back.

-o-o-o-

Scott had a headache.

That was the first hint of reality and not a new one in his life. He often woke with headaches, the only remaining question was what caused it this time.

“Hey, Scott, are you with us?”

Alan.

Several factors hit home at once. He was wearing his helmet, hence his uniform and Alan, only Alan, had said his name.

Mission.

He was sitting up before his brain had filled him in on the fact he was millions of miles away from home and gravity was a whole different thing on Callisto.

“Whoa!” Hands grabbed him. Hands that definitely belonged to Alan. The astronaut was crouched over him with worried eyes. “Take it easy. You might have a concussion.”

Head injury then.

“Mission status.”

“John’s gone after Gordon. Virgil is awake and out of the ice.”

Gordon. Gordon had been in the water. The weird water.

The very idea of Virgil being buried in ice again awoke horrors he did not want to face.

“Help me up.” Scott rolled himself over, ignoring the protests from his brother to stay put. His head protested very loudly and it became very apparent that the supposed head injury was not impressed with any movement.

Ow.

But, mission.

“Scott, what are you doing?” Another set of hands grabbed at him, which was probably a good thing because he was going down if they hadn’t. As it was, the whole world shifted as he was forcibly lowered to sit on the white, white ground again.

There was a flicker of yellow light and muttering from his youngest brother. “We need to get him back to base.” Alan’s voice was worried.

But Gordon. “I’ve got to go help Gordon.” He tried to stand up again, but too many hands held him down. His shoulders were grabbed and he found a pair of grey eyes staring at him. “Dad? Gordy is in danger.”

“I know son. John, Lee and Virgil will see to him.”

Virgil. He blinked. “Virgil was with me!” Again he struggled to get up.

His father held him down. “Virgil is very determined that he is fine. You, however, are not. You have a concussion. I will take you back to the Base and you will rest. Alan will help his brothers.”

“But-“

The hands on his shoulders squeezed. “Do I have to ask Virgil to reinforce that order?”

Virgil? Order? God, his head hurt.

But this was Dad. Dad knew what to do in space. Dad was...Dad was...

“Scott, you with me?”

He was shaken just a little and his head hated him for it. A groan and his hand encountered his helmet. Augh.

Space sucked.

“C’mon, Scotty, let’s get you into the pod.” Alan’s voice was gentle and professional. He was so proud of his little brother. “Yeah, well, I learnt from the best. Up you get.”

He was pulled slowly to his feet and he had to bite down or lose whatever the hell it was he had eaten last. There were steps and then he was sitting and familiar restraints were holding him in place.

He closed his eyes.

Gordon. He had to help Gordon.

“Your brothers will help him, Scott, you know that.”

But-

His world shook as the pod lifted. He glimpsed the back of his father’s helmet. Dad. Dad was driving. Dad had control.

He could let go.

-o-o-o-

Alan swallowed as their father launched the pod back down the tunnel, its headlights sparkling.

He had reported Scott’s status the moment they had the medscanner’s results and had received a very abrupt acknowledgement from Virgil.

It was unusual to have Virgil in command in space. It wasn’t his native environment and he didn’t venture into it very often. It, of course, wasn’t the first time, and Alan trusted Virgil with his life. But this was Alan’s turf, he needed to be there to help.

He leapt into the remaining dragonfly and dashed off down the tunnel.

It got tighter and tighter as he flew closer to the Crystal Cave, his access blocked by frozen lake water. For a moment he thought he was going to have to abandon the pod, but he was just able to squeeze through the entrance.

The lake was exactly as it had been. Calm and glittering in the pod’s headlamps. He turned slowly on the rocky beach to find Four, free of ice, jammed up against the wall beside the tunnel entrance. She was on her port side, cabin rammed into the rock.

Alan’s heart clenched as he set the dragonfly down.

Both John and Virgil along with Uncle Lee were attempting to gain access via the rear hatch. The ‘bird was made for water, but on the very rare occasion such as this, Brains had built space capable redundancies into her airlock.

How many submersibles in this universe were also space capsules in disguise?

But all this was redundant if the seals had been compromised.

A quick query of Thunderbird Five reassured Alan that Gordon’s vitals were still strong. There was still no response from their fish brother, but he was alive and relatively stable and Four reported no seal ruptures.

Yet.

Virgil grunted as the back of Four was slowly cranked open. Uncle Lee and his engineer brother were putting all their muscle into heaving the hatch open while John slipped into the vehicle.

A moment later the door was shoved shut again and Alan was surprised to see Virgil seal it with a hand laser.

Tired eyes caught Alan’s. His brother didn’t need to explain why he was doing what he was doing.

“Inner airlock door is now compromised.” John’s voice was calm and sure despite the subject matter. “Proceeding to the cockpit.”

Alan stared at Virgil a moment, caught by his haggard expression before hurrying around Four towards her belly viewports.

All he could see was Gordon’s feet. No matter how he shone his hand light through those windows, he could see nothing more. Gordon’s pilot’s seat obscured everything.

For it to be in that position it had to have been severed off its mountings.

Hell.

Determined, Alan scrambled around Four’s nose and tried to find her front viewports. Everything was obscured by rock.

Crystal glittered mockingly at him, an almost scarlet chunk of quartz sticking out of the wall and falling over as if it was reaching for Four.

Alan fought the urge to shove it away from his brother’s ‘bird.

“Cockpit hatch is non-operational. Eos, relay through my suit sensors and give me a detailed report on Gordon’s position.” John’s voice was ever so calm.

Alan wanted to scream.

He hurried back to the lower ports and stared at his brother’s feet.

Again Gordon had been crushed in his ‘bird. How hurt was he this time. How long would he take to recover?

Virgil spoke up and Alan was startled to find his engineer brother and Uncle Lee standing beside him. Virgil was standing ramrod straight. “Eos, can you pull any medical data?”

“Please hold.” The AI’s voice was crisp and professional. “Compensating for interference.”

Damned interference. Alan was so sick of static. Their comm lines and sensor feeds were usually perfect. What was it with this place?

A big hand gently wrapped around his arm.

“I’m fine, Virgil.”

The hand did not let go.

“Thank you, Eos.” How did John stay so calm? “Cutting into the cockpit now.”

Virgil’s wrist control lit up and projected the sensor data he had requested from Eos. True to this place, parts flickered and there was some pixilation, but a clear outline of both Gordon and John inside Four was all the reassurance it could be.

Gordon was curled up on the ‘floor’ of his ‘bird, on what had been Four’s portside viewports.

The laser cutter in John’s hand flared up brightly as he cut through the cockpit hatch mechanisms.

Red light flickered through the marine acrylic enough to catch on Alan’s uniform.

“His right arm is broken again.” Virgil sighed. “He’s going to be so pissed.”

“I’m in.” And John was. Light lit up the viewports, quickly followed by the yellow of a medscanner.

“Oh, thank god.” Beside him, Virgil visibly deflated in relief. The hologram lit up with Gordon’s full medical details. A red alarm hovered over one arm where the break snapped his right ulna and his head had an orange flag that pinpointed a likely concussion. But other than that, Gordon appeared whole and safe, his spacesuit undamaged and airtight. Alan’s shoulders dropped almost as much as Virgil’s.

“He’s safe to move, John.” No doubt John knew that, but Virgil obviously had a need to confirm it anyway. He had a habit of doing that. Alan wasn’t really sure who it was for, Virgil’s brothers or himself.

The next few moments involved cutting open the rear hatch of Four again. This time there was the hiss of escaping atmosphere as Virgil took the entire door off the sub, no longer needing to worry about Gordon’s suit integrity.

John emerged carefully carrying his unconscious brother, Gordon’s helmeted head limp on one shoulder, his arm in an emergency splint, no doubt from one of Four’s first aid packs.

“Vincent, I’m thinking you boys need to take your brother back to base.”

Alan suddenly realised they were a pod or two short to carry all of them. There were five operatives and only one pod.

Uncle Lee eyed Virgil, his lips thin. “Albert, you could fly George while Vincent, John and I dig out the other pod.”

Virgil shifted his feet as he translated that, and Alan frowned at him. His engineer brother was wrecked. Alan could see it in his eyes. Understandable

Virgil’s nod was firm, regardless. “FAB. Alan, you’re with Gordon. John, what is the impact of the interference on Eos’ capability to pilot the pod if necessary?”

Their space brother was looking down at Gordon’s face frowning. “Eos is deploying a moon-wide probe net. We can use them to strengthen the signal. I think that above ground, Thunderbird Five should be able to pilot reliably. I would not recommend attempting it underground.”

Virgil nodded again before striding over to Alan’s pod and, climbing up and throwing the hatch back, began reconfiguring the backseat to transport their injured brother.

Alan hurried over to help and within minutes, John had secured their unconscious aquanaut brother prone on his side in the back of the pod.

Silent, eyes closed, non-responsive.

Alan took off smoothly and with as much care as possible, flew back up the tunnel, heading above ground and back to Callisto Base.

His last glance at the Crystal Cave outlined the shapes of two brothers and an uncle standing ever so alone in a giant cavern that had tried to kill three of his brothers.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #John Tracy #Alan Tracy #Jeff Tracy #Lee Taylor #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #callisto

36 notes · View notes

feudalconnection · 4 years ago

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Get Ready...!!

It’s the start of the 1st Quarter 2021 Inuyasha Fandom Awards!!

We hope everyone has had a wonderful holiday season as we kick off the new year! A huge shout-out to everyone who participated last quarter and made it such a huge success! We look forward to all the amazing new fanfiction and fanart to be nominated and shared with this beautiful community!

Before we get started, there have been a few changes that have been made during our brief hiatus.

We want to give a shout-out to @britonell for always being so generous with her time and talent with creating award banners. (If you have not yet received your award banner for last quarter, please reach out to one of the mods asap!)

There are also some changes coming to the categories that may effect you as nominators:

Considering we now have a storyline in regards to Yashahime, we are now allowing works to be nominated into Fanfiction categories. However, because the storyline is not fleshed out enough and a lot of large parts are missing still, we will NOT accept any Yashahime works into the Best Canon Fanfiction category until more has been revealed. If there are any questions on this, please feel free to reach out to the mod-team.

Our Roulette category for fanfiction this quarter will be Best Canon Divergence Fanfiction. This is defined as: Anything that walks outside of Takahashi’s original vision, but includes some key defining moments from the original canon universe. Anything that starts in the World created by Takahashi and is taken to a different outcome. For this quarter, we are splitting the Best AU/AR category. The new definition for Best AU/AR Fanfiction this quarter is: Anything that walks outside of Takahashi's vision. Anything that moves the characters outside of Takahashi's setting of Feudal Era Japan or Modern day Japan is AU/AR. Anything that changes the main characters beyond the basic core attributes Takahashi granted them. Anything that includes a separate world and series of events. If there are any questions regarding this, please don’t hesitate to reach out to the mod-team.

As a reminder, any work of fiction may include OC’s, but it must reflect 80% of the storyline revolving around the Inuyasha characters.

One major change is that we are now going to evolve the Winners into First, Second, and Third place Awards. This has happened in past IY awards and some fans were hoping that we would be able to bring this back. However, this change is going to be based solely on the level of participation by you guys!

For any category to receive up to three nominations, a First Place banner will be awarded to the winner.

For any category to receive up to five nominations, First and Second Place banners will be awarded to the winners.

For any category to receive up to seven nominations, First, Second, and Third Place banners will be awarded to the winners.

Basically, the more nominations we receive, the more likely the chance for several people to receive banners! If you have any questions regarding this, please don’t hesitate to reach out to the mod-team.

If it was not mentioned above, chances are it hasn’t changed. Please be aware that the moderators always take suggestions regarding how the awards are run and category changes into consideration, and each quarter may bring about new changes. You can read up on the most recent FAQs, Rules of Eligibility, and Categories for more information (these links are only available on desktop)

Also for this quarter, check out @inuparentsday, taking place on January 16th!

As nominators, please make sure that each quarter you take a peek at our list of creators who can’t be nominated to make sure you are staying current with who is eligible to be nominated.

The 1st Quarter 2021 nomination period will being January 1st and go until the end of the day January 15th. Please send your nominations through the submit button! If you have any questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to send in an ask or reach out to one of the mods!

Mods: @sassybratt9791 @meggz0rz @umacaking @hinezumi @sssuperbartola @ruddcatha

Please reblog to spread the word of the start of the new quarter!

[Below the cut we’ve posted the mobile-friendly FAQs, Rules of Eligibility, and Categories]

FAQ’s

What is The Feudal Connection?

The Feudal Connection is a place where amazing fanart and fanfiction in the Inuyasha fandom is recognized, admired, and offered the chance to be nominated for an award! In addition, it also gives lesser known authors and artists an opportunity to have their work shared to a broader extent and receive the admiration and recognition they deserve!

How do I nominate?

You can send us a submission in one of our nomination formats. Your submission will not be posted and therefore remain anonymous, only to be seen by the moderators. You can send multiple nominations in one submission, as long as the nomination formats are used for each nomination. Please select your fiction nominations carefully; spelling and grammar are important parts of being an author. Anything deemed unacceptable by the moderator team will be disqualified. Once nominations are complete, we’ll post the list of accepted nominations so you can read and view them before voting.

Can I nominate my own art/fiction?

You cannot nominate yourself. Doing so will result in the nomination not being accepted and a warning from the award moderators.

How long do I have to nominate?

You will have 2 weeks from the start of the nominating quarter to send in nominations. These dates will be posted at the beginning of each quarter.

Can I nominate anonymously?

No. This is due to the fact that no one is allowed to nominate their own work. Also, if a nomination is disqualified, the moderators will be reaching out to the person who nominated to allow them another opportunity to nominate.

Can I promote my own works of fiction/art to be nominated for a quarter?

No. You are not allowed to self-promote your own work during the nomination. This includes not being allowed to request others to nominate your work in specific categories. However, you are allowed to promote the nomination period of the awards by stating something similar to “go nominate your favorites” or the like, as long as you don’t promote your own work to being nominated. Violation of this rule will result in a warning. If there is a second offense, your work will be banned from being nominated in any future quarters.

How many fanfics/fanarts can I nominate?

Only one fiction or artwork can be chosen for each category per person. Meaning, a story or artwork can only be nominated by one person per category. Therefore, any secondary nominations will be disregarded and the duplicate nominator will be allowed to submit another story or artwork in its place.

Is there a limit to how many works can be nominated per category?

Yes. Only 7 fictions or artworks can be nominated per category. Once that category has reached its nomination limit, no more nominations will be accepted into that category for the current quarter.

What fanfiction/fanart is eligible to be nominated?

Please see Rules of Eligibility.

What is the nominating format for fanfics? For fanart?

Nominating format for fanfiction:

Category: (List the name of the category you’ve chosen) Nominated by: (List YOUR screen name) Rating: (The fiction’s rating) Title: (Title of the fiction) Author: (List the name of the person who wrote the story) Website(s): (Add the link where the story can be seen)

(For Best “In-Character” list the character’s name): (For Best “Friendship” list the characters’ names):

Nominating format for fanart:

Category: (List the name of the category you’ve chosen) Nominated by: (List YOUR screen name) Title: (Title of the artwork) Artist: (List the name of the person that drew the piece) Website(s): (Add the link where the art can be seen)

Can I nominate a fanfic/fanart for more than one category?

Yes. The same story or artwork may be nominated by the same person in up to two different categories.

What are the categories?

The categories for both fanart and fanfiction can be found in the Categories link.

Can I nominate a fanart/fanfic that includes Original Characters or Crossover Characters?

Yes. For Fanfics, 80% of the story needs to be focused on Inuyasha characters and the development of the story. OC’s can be in a story, but the main focus needs to be on the Inuyasha characters. Artwork can contain Non-IY characters where specified, but NO art may contain only OC’s or Non-IY characters. (i.e. Artwork of Inuyasha and Kagome’s “OC children” are unacceptable without other genuine IY characters present in the piece)

I don’t want my fanart/fanfic nominated. Can I opt out? How?

Once a nomination has been approved by the moderators, the author/artist will be made aware of the nomination. Every author/artist retains the right to have their work be removed from the nomination list and can opt out of future nominations. Simply reach out to one of the moderators to let us know.

How many quarters are there?

There will be 4 quarters total per year. Each quarter will be broken down by dates prior to the quarter starting.

How long is each quarter?

Each quarter will be approximately 8 weeks.

How long is the voting period?

The voting period will last for 2 weeks.

How do I vote?

Once the voting period begins, the moderators will post a link to the voting form that will list all of the nominations and which categories they have been nominated for. You can click on the link to be taken to the voting poll, however, you must sign in as you will be allowed only one vote per category.

When are the winners announced?

At the end of each quarter.

What happens if my fanfic/fanart wins? Do I need to do anything?

You don’t need to do anything; you can kick back, relax, and enjoy the feeling of being recognized for your hard work! We will be contacting you in regards to your award within the next twenty-four hours.

I want to nominate an artist/author who has won in the past. Are they still eligible to be nominated?

There is a Winner Ban in place. Once any piece of artwork or fanfiction has won an award for a category, it automatically becomes ineligible and cannot be nominated again for that category. However, it can be nominated for other categories after three consecutive quarters have passed (ie: one year since that piece won) as long as it fits within that definition. We currently do not have a rule against nominating an author/artist back into the category they won for in the past, as long as it is a different piece of work that is being nominated.

I have a question that’s not listed.

Please feel free to send an ask or a direct message to one of our mods and we will get back to you as soon as possible! :)

Rules of Eligibility

Fiction and Fanart published on any public or free site can be submitted for an award provided they meet all of the requirement of the nominations. These sites include but are not limited to Tumblr, Fanfiction.net, AO3, Deviantart, ect. If the validity of a site is uncertain, reach out to a moderator.

Multi-chapter fics must have been updated within the past 3 years of the nomination quarter. Fanart must have been created within the past 3 years of the nomination quarter.

One-shots and drabbles must have been posted within the past 3 years of the nomination quarter.

If the work was posted onto several different locations, the earliest date and time stamp will be taken and checked against the quarter’s period of eligibility. Stamps posted within reviews can be used to date a work and/or its chapters. Also, authors and artists can be contacted to verify timeframes.

You cannot nominate yourself. Doing so will result in the nomination not being accepted and a warning from the award moderators.

You are only allowed to nominate one fic/fanart per category.

Each piece of Art or Fanfiction is allowed to be nominated into a maximum of two different categories per quarter. The nominations will be taken on a first come first serve basis, meaning that once a piece of Art or Fanfiction is nominated into two categories, it will not be allowed to be nominated into other categories, and each subsequent nomination will be rejected.

Each author/artist is allowed to be nominated twice per quarter. Meaning, an author/artist can only have a max of two of their creations be nominated per quarter. So be sure and pick your favorites carefully!

The work must be in compliance with the definition of the category into which it was nominated.

Both adult and non-adult artwork are acceptable for nominations.