#from a random sketch I made at a christmas party

[thehealingsystem]

traditional drawing I made that im somewhat happy with :]

[noaltbruh]

Hey there! Now I have some time off school thanks to Christmas Holidays, I've figured I'd go back to writing a bit! :)

This is another gift for my best friend, I'm not really confident in the way I write one of the biggest assholes in the Jojo series Rohan, but I hope you'll enjoy it, bud! 😊

Also, Merry Christmas to anyone who is reading this! 😚

Making an effort

While many would recognise Rohan Kishibe for his notorious story, for his natural talent, his intuition, or even for his look, there was not much to admire when it came to the type of person he was, or the way he would approach others in any social situation.

Indeed, it felt quite oppressing to feel like you were always being looked down upon, you were considered a simple weight, or an interruption in the creation of his "work of art".

But this is how one would feel, if they didn't react to this behavior by laughing in his face.

"Opposite attracts", don't they?

It is too bad that this did not apply to them.

Undoubtedly, there was a lot of...Let me say, attraction, between them, but they were no sun and moon, no light and dark, no loud and quiet.

Surely, Y/N appeared to be more polite and patient compared to her partner, who seemed to be living by the conviction that any other being was inferior to him.

But this didn't change the fact that she would have preferred staring at her duck lamp for three hours in a row, rather than participating in a party. Even if she'd showed up, it would have been merely to find an excuse to put on a nice dress and eat snacks.

But if there was a word to describe the way the girl wished to live her life, it was hard to think of anything but "habit". She did not thrive for new experiences, new adventures, new people...She did not understand changes, and refused to do so.

In the presence of someone even more quiet, reserved and introverted than she was, she somehow found the reassurance and stability she longed for. In a twisted sense, his reclusive nature is what has caught her attention.

Similarly, the other grew to..."Tolerate", by his words, her presence as well. Truthfully, he too found pleasure in the company of someone who could keep up with his provocations and acknowledged his rhythms...Most of the time.

Because at the end of the day, who doesn't appreciate someone who is a bit like ourselves? Who doesn't enjoy having a person who understands and respects your boundaries, your interests, your traditions?

Time went by naturally, there were no major changes aside from Rohan sometimes heading to visit a place for his...Research, but Y/N actually enjoyed traveling with him once in a while.

Their house, however, still remained their most trusted companion, especially during a time such as "Christmas", where the cheery and overly sweet atmosphere of the outside world made Rohan hiss like a stray cat.

So, while other authors were too busy with "spending time with their family and friends or whatever", the outstanding genius had had the brilliant idea of intensifying his work hours, instead.

It was a matter of randomness whether or not she would have come to disturb him during his drawing session. Was she feeling too tired that day? Or was she in the mood for annoying him, to the point where he'd accidentally drop ink on his sketches, and force her to sit in a corner for the rest of the day?

Not that she actually would have anyway.

The only warmth in the house came from the heaters Y/N had turned on a couple of hours before. She was busy reading another novel she had gotten recommended online, after the overly romantic one she had mistakenly decided to give a chance to before.

10 pages, 20 pages, 30 pages, 40 pages...

After stopping at exactly page 105, she carefully put the book back on her bedside table and got up.

The bedroom the two shared was right next to Rohan's studio. If she listened carefully, she could hear the sound of his wooden pencils and meticulously picked pens, barely touching the surface of the drawing base, completing another page.

With a bored expression, she stretched her arms and opened the door, the only light inside of the room was coming from the window, which wasn't saying much, considering the sky was cloudy. However, the artist did not look bothered in the slightest by this.

"Damn, you want some sunscreen?"

She commented, barely getting any reaction out of him.

"No, thank you"

The girl sighed to herself, still smirking a bit, and turned on the only small lightbulb in the room. She didn't mind the dark itself, she actually found it quite enjoyable, it was merely to poke fun at him.

"What about now?"

Y/N added, resting an elbow on the side of the table the young mangaka was drawing on, clinching her hand into a fist as it made contact with her cheek.

"Still no, although what you just did right now was quite unnecessary"

"Almost as much as you deciding to spend even less time with me during Holiday times"

Despite the weight of her words, her tone was still a perfectly calm one. She didn't like to lose her cool, she could hardly ever do so even if she tried. Yelling just wasn't part of her nature, and she lived by the idea that passive-aggressiveness was much more impractical than screaming, especially with people like her boyfriend.

"Was that supposed to be some sort of offensive remark?"

"It wasn't supposed to be"

She shrugged and leaned forward to take the pencil off his hand.

"It was"

The small object fell to the ground, there was a moment of silence between the two, broken by the green haired one.

"I didn't take you for the type of person who cares so much about Christmas"

The two of them finally made eye contact.

"Look, it's not about Christmas itself, it's just..."

Y/N frowned before finishing the phrase.

"I get that your manga is important and all, but...Can't you just catch a break once in a while? Can't we spend these days together like any other couple? For once?"

Rohan looked down at the uncompleted image of Heaven's door he had been working on before being interrupted.

He didn't have malicious intentions, nor had he considered the possibility that his partner would have liked to spend all her time with him. They weren't exactly a "lovey-dovey" couple, and in his mind, he genuinely believed that she would have been okay reading all alone wrapped in the bed sheets.

He was just purely clueless when it came to understanding other people's emotions, especially considering how she didn't like to be direct about how she felt.

But, even if he wasn't the best at it, she would have still appreciated any sort of attempt to do so.

"...What do you want to do, then?"

Despite the fact that this is what she wanted, the girl couldn't help being taken aback by his response. She knew Rohan actually valued her, and simply sucked at showing it. Even so, she wasn't entirely sure of how to answer. It's not like she had anything special programmed in mind, nor did she want to leave the house anyway.

"I...Dunno, we can do whatever, 's long as we actually do it together"

It was the kind of sappy answer that she regretted in the moment it left her mouth, but that it felt right to express, even for just a second.

The other got up from his chair and turned around, without honoring her with a minimum reaction to her affirmation.

"...So?"

She tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow.

"No"

A straight answer, that's all she got out of him, before he walked out of the room, leaving her alone. That was low, even for the standards of a person like him, especially after he had seemed to show some bare interest in cheering her up, just for a second.

"...Fucking asshole"

She murmured to herself and left the place with heavy steps. For a second, she wondered where he had gone, but she quickly shoved that thought away, refusing to think about it. Bored out of her mind, she took her phone and started scrolling through videos of cat fishes eating food.

This went on for almost an hour, before the sound of the chubby animals nomming was interrupted by a soft knock on the door, but she couldn't be bothered to answer.

So, instead of knocking again, the other one just made himself comfortable and walked inside the bedroom, staring at his girlfriend for a couple of seconds, while she turned off her device with a blank expression.

"What?"

This time, she broke she silence. She looked at him in the corner of her eye, realizing he had his arms behind his back. His stiff position made it pretty clear that he was feeling nervous, but she wasn't in the mood for teasing him in that moment.

After a fake cough, he took another step in her direction. For once, the smug and egocentric Rohan wasn't sure of how to start the conversation.

"I...Made you this"

He reluctantly said, as he handed her a small cup filled with vanilla-flavoured tea.

She recognized it from the smell, despite the fact that she had never actually tried it before, although she had wanted to for a while now. But, considering the small city Morioh was, she couldn't find any supermarket that sold this flavor.

"...Where did you even get this?"

She asked, as the took the cup with both of her cold hands, to warm them up a little.

"When I went to Tokyo two days ago, but you decided to sleep in the entire day"

Despite her effort to act upset, which she still was, she couldn't help but crack a small laughter.

"Heh, I made the right choice"

"Yeah"

Feeling a bit more relaxed after seeing her smile, he took a sit next to her.

"Where did you hide the tea bags?"

"Under the wholemeal bread, so that I would have been certain you wouldn't have seen them"

"...That was a clever move"

"I kno-...Thanks"

Y/N took a sip out of the beverage, it warmed her inside as well. It was rather sweet, but not excessively, it was just like how she had imagined it to taste like.

"So, er...The reason why I said "no" earlier..."

"Yeah? What was up with that dick move?"

Normally, he would have responded twice as provocatively to her rhetoric question, but he thought it was better to let it slide at least this time.

"You uhm...Said you wanted to do something together, but I kind of..."

He looked at the little mug covered in white tulips.

"Felt...Bad about how I had been acting and... Decided to prepare this for you...Myself"

The green eyed one concluded. In that moment, he understood, although unconsciously, how his partner had felt asking him to spend more time with her earlier.

It was...Cheesy and dumb to pronounce out loud, even more than what she had said. He was already waiting for her to tell him how unnecessary and "out of character" it was for him, and to be honest, he couldn't even blame her.

"...I get it, makes sense"

Was what he got as an answer instead, he doubted if he had heard her correctly for a second.

"Thank you"

She added with a small smile.

"You're...Welcome, I guess"

"Just don't it again, 'K?"

The girl put the cup down and pointed a finger in his direction, smirking a little.

"That is, if you don't want me to pour oil on all your drawings and sketches"

"That is, if you don't want me to kick you out of the house"

Rohan grabbed Y/N's hand and held it tight between his, reciprocating the other's expression.

"Dang, you were able to be humble for almost 5 minutes, if you reristed for two more, you would have beaten your last record"

"Oh well, there will be another occasion..."

He leaned over and kissed her knuckles.

"...Maybe"

The artist pulled her closer to his chest by her wrist, more delicately than he usually would. Despite his inability to keep his flirty attitude completely at bay, he still felt like he should have been a bit softer to her in that moment, compared to how he would usually act.

Y/N loved to listen to his heartbeat, it was one of the rare sensations that were truly able to put her at ease, to give her that feeling of comfort and safety, to gift her with the certainty that everything was okay.

She didn't care if one would have called it childish, the thought of it couldn't even cross her mind in a moment like that.

It's true, his boyfriend could be a jerk, and was a huge jerk, but it made her feel special in a way. Not his attitude itself, but the implications of it, in a sense. How she was sure she really was something extraordinary, if Rohan Kishibe, of all people, cared about her.

And on top of this, tried what he had to prove her that it was the truth: that her uniqueness was a precious treasure he had the duty to cherish. In his usual self-centered, narcissistic, selfish view, he found space for something else, a space whose existence he had tried to defy: in his heart.

Loving someone was actually worth it, that was the most important lesson he would have ever taken from Y/N.

The latter's eyes naturally closed a little, enchanted by the reassuring sound. She had a small smile on her face, but she didn't feel like falling asleep just yet. She wanted to enjoy her partner as much as she could, despite how tempting it was to let go and rest surrounded by his body.

She let out a small sigh in relaxation, slowly raising her arm and taking the sort of bandage off his head, letting his hair down. He didn't like to be seen without it, especially since it prevented his hair from getting in the way of his work.

However, the girl just saw the occasion and couldn't help herself, she thought he looked even more handsome without it, and it's not like he needed it in the moment anyway, didn't he?

"You just won't bite, will you?"

"Why would I?"

Her hand was still in his hair as she lightly played with it.

"You look hotter when you don't wear it"

"...Well, how could I ever refuse a compliment from you?"

All of a sudden, she noticed something in his expression, a slight detail that, from an inexperienced point of view, would have gone unnoticed, or given from granted.

"...Ya know, I love your smirk"

"I know you do"

"But...I just adore seeing you smile...For real"

Caught unprepared by the comment , the young artist could not help but manifest a pink remark on his cheeks. He hadn't even realized how long he had been smiling for, and how genuine it looked, just for once.

"What? You didn't expect that?"

"I must admit I didn't"

Slowly, one of his hands started to crawl its way through her back, making sure not to leave any spot untouched.

"But can it compare to how pretty you are right now?"

In that exact moment, she sensed a shiver down her spine. It was hard to tell whether it was due to his physical initiative, or his words. Either way, she perfectly knew how to send the ball back to him.

"I don't know, can it?"

"...No, no it can't"

No other sound came out of the room for the next few hours, aside from that oh their lips touching. Feeling comfortable with someone while in pure calmness and quietness, that was pure love for the two. Maybe and unconventional type, but meaningful to them both nevertheless.

The outside was already dark, and the moon was barely visible that day. Some Christmas ornaments could be seen in the distance from the glass barrier, which gave Rohan another idea.

"Hey, would you like me to give you your present now?"

"You...Actually got me one?"

She was hoping that deep down, a tiny fraction of Holiday spirit had managed to penetrate inside of him, but she had prepared to accept the fact that it would have, most definitely, remained a fantasy.

How happy she was, for once, to be wrong.

"Of course"

"But it's not Christmas yet"

"Dates are just a social construct, and Jesus wasn't even actually born that day"

"Alright mr. Nonconformist, let's see what you got"

He reluctantly let go of her, kissing her for one last time.

"Give me a second"

Soon enough, the green-haired one came back. He was holding a simple, but carefully wrapped packet, whom he let slip on her hands with a satisfied look.

"Well, go ahead"

Noticing the conviction in his gaze, Y/N could not resist a second further and opened the gift, to reveal a...Sweater?

She could guess he would have gotten her clothes, but she didn't expect him to present her with this piece of clothing, of all things.

However, everything started to fall into place as soon as she turned it around. Before she could say anything, Rohan anticipated her.

"Well, I've figured you would have liked it, since you love filling the walls of my studio with this...Thing so much"

"It's called a stickman, honey"

"Whatever it may be, you surely seem to enjoy drawing it everywhere"

He didn't receive a "thank you", or a "Are you serious?" Or even a "Where the hell did you find this?"

The girl simply laughed.

"W-WHAT? What's so funny now?"

"You're such...A dork"

She slowly folded the sweater and put in on the pillow next to her, as she wrapped her arms around his shoulder, finding the strength to kiss him between her giggles.

"I love you, you moron"

"I love you too"

[austinsmutler]

Wicked Little Woman | Shawn!Austin x Reader | One-Shot

Summary: Based on the White Elephant SNL sketch. You're at the Christmas party when Ava steals the ashtray from Shawn!Austin and get a bit protective of your favorite temp.

A/N: Written because I promised @infatuatedharleys I would- Merry Christmas, Angel!

Pairing: Shawn (Played by Austin Butler) x Reader

Word Count: 4,800

What you’ll like: Christmas, Fluff, Grumpy/Sunshine, office romance, finger sucking (yes you read that right), Smut, Oral (F!Recieving)

Warnings: Smut, minors DNI!

Masterlist | Requests are currently open

You usually skipped the office Christmas party. It wasn’t that you hated your co-workers per se, just that you preferred to keep your work life and personal life separate. The last thing you wanted after working with your team 8 hours a day, 11 and a half months a year, was to spend an evening with them at one of their homes. You wanted to stay home, eat Christmas cookies, and watch all three versions of The Grinch. 

Then they hired Shawn. You’d never paid attention to the temps they’d hired before- they were all plain types in thick-rimmed glasses and sky blue button-up shirts, whose idea of an interesting day was ordering their latte with full fat milk instead of semi-skimmed. 

Shawn was different- he showed up to work every day in a jet black button-up, signet rings on every finger. You’d called him over to walk him through a few reports one day and spent half the demonstration trying not to look at his rings and wonder what each stood for- there was a calavera with intricate detailing in silver and gold on his middle (giving death the middle finger? bold for a Monday morning); a sparrow engraved on his right ring finger, and a quote you couldn’t make out engraved on his left pinky. 

You tried and failed to ignore the fact that his wedding finger- on both hands- was bare. Interesting. 

“Hey, you going to that Christmas thing?” He’d caught you earlier in the break room by the coffee machine. 

“The White Elephant?” You shrugged. “I don’t usually, but maybe this year. Are you?”

There was something behind his blue eyes, but he kept his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. Hope I see you there.”

“You probably will.” You grinned, the decision made for you. Even if that meant skipping the rest of your lunch break and picking up some shitty last-minute gift for the Dirty Santa game. 

At work, the White Elephant portion of the company party was a legend every year- one you’d been happy to miss. Everyone else worried about FOMO while you enjoyed ROMO- the Relief of Missing Out on grabbing some random, useless item and shoving it in the bottom of your closet until the next year when you released it back into the wild at the next party. 

You ducked out of the office and headed to the nearest supermarket, looking up and down every junk-aisle until you found something: a jet black ashtray with silver studs. Ordinarily it wouldn’t have stood out, but something about the dark porcelain reminded you of Shawn. 

God, you needed to stop thinking like that. He’d be out of the company after the New Year, and you’d never see him again- that would be that. No more mysterious rings on long, intriguing fingers. Absolutely no more catching a faint whiff of leather whenever he leaned over your desk to point at something on your computer screen. 

You could live with that. You had for years. This time next year, you’d be at home with store-bought Christmas cookies and The Grinch, the way things had always been. Shawn would be along with all the other Christmas decorations by the 1st of January. Fine.

That didn’t stop your heart beating like a bongo when you knocked on Kathy’s door.

Kathy ran the finance department, meaning that half the people here would be from teams you didn’t know, or who considered marketing a waste of money and space. Maybe exchanging gifts with your mortal enemies would get you into the Christmas spirit… Especially if Shawn was there.

He was already sitting in Kathy’s living room, silently watching the rest of the strangers having a conversation- knowing finance, it was probably about tax write-offs for the holidays. The gift of interest rates dropping from 12% to 11.5%.

The seat next to him was empty, so you grabbed it, sending Shawn a quick smile. He nodded a greeting before turning his attention back to the conversation, but your eyes couldn’t help but take him in like a tall glass of eggnog. 

Shawn rarely dressed like other employees, and tonight was no exception. Where everyone else was wearing red, silver or gold (or a hideous Christmas cardigan) he was dressed head-to-toe in jet black. Casual black jeans and boots, a black biker jacket that made his shoulders look that much broader, and slicked-back blonde hair. He’d missed a spot at the back. You could just make out a curl in the straightness, flattened but still sticking out like an imperfection.

That just made him more perfect. Dammit. You grabbed a glass of mulled wine and hoped it went straight to your head. Anything to forget your stupid crush on the temp.

Everyone gathered in the living room. A spread of chairs formed a circle around Kathy’s coffee table, where everyone added a gift. 

“Champagne?” Kathy offered, popping open a bottle and pouring everyone a full glass.  

You and Shawn took the seats closest to the door, and everyone else settled down too. 

“Thank you all for coming!” Kathy clapped her hands together, creating an awkward silence that made you want to throw back the entire glass of champagne. “Sorry for the small space, but I think it’s nice that we can all be so cozy together at this time of year. And who knows, maybe next year we can put our heads together and host this party in the Bahamas, right Finance?”

Nobody laughed. Shawn cracked a smirk. Kathy cleared her throat and sat down. “Anyway, cheers everyone!”

“Cheers!” You clinked glasses with Shawn first, but he avoided looking at you. He was never like this in the office; when you sat in your cubicle his blue eyes seemed to burn into you, always searching for answers to questions he wasn’t asking out loud. Maybe that was just your over-active imagination at play. 

“Why don’t we start the white elephant gift exchange?” Kathy’s smile was tight and unfaltering as her gaze swept over the room. “Did everyone get assigned a number when they came in?”

Everyone held up a slip of paper- you were 9, Shawn was 2. 

“Great! Does everyone know how this game works?”

“Remind me again?” Shawn asked. 

“When your number is called, you grab a gift.” 

“But we can steal, right?” That was Jeff from accounting, number 5. 

“Exactamundo!” Kathy nodded a little too enthusiastically- either she was irrationally nervous or she’d been hitting the mulled wine too hard. Either way, you tensed as the game began. 

Janette from marketing was number 1, and she picked a red paper bag from the pile, excitedly pulling out a scented candle. Great, her house reeks. You swore you could smell her husband’s dirty socks from across the room, and he wasn’t even in the room. 

“A candle!” Janette gasped in delight, blissfully nose-blind to the situation. “I love it!”

“Alright, who’s next?”

Shawn raised his hand and stood over the table, playfully waving his hands. You held your hand as he came within an inch of grabbing your present- only to pick the one right next to it. 

Don’t feel disappointed, you told the sinking feeling in your stomach, It’s just a stupid game of Dirty Santa.

Shawn pulled a light blue piece of porcelain out of the golden paper bag, his jaw dropping open. If he were a cartoon, this would have been the exact moment his eyes popped out of his head. 

“Oh, nice!” He exclaimed. “A sweet ashtray! Oh, you know I was just saying I needed something like this.”

You winced at the joy in his voice. First rule of White Elephant: if you like your gift, never show it. Still, you couldn’t ignore the infectious warmth that spread across your chest as Shawn carried on, words tumbling out of him in an excitement you’d never seen from him at the office. 

“I’m going to use this as a catchall by the front door of my place, so when I get home from a long day I can put all my rings and bracelets and playing cards and stuff from my pockets right here. To whoever got this, thank you. For real. I’m going to cherish this forever, it’s perfect.”

No you won’t, you thought, catching eyes with Ava from the legal branch of the finance department. A ruthless woman in a red-and-white Christmas jumper, with the glow of at least a dozen Patrick Batemans in her eye as she looked at Shawn’s ashtray, which he was hugging to his chest, a goofy smile on his face. 

“Let’s move on.” Ava flicked her brown hair over her shoulder and looked around the room, but you knew she’d already made her decision. “I’m number three. I’m going to steal- I like Shawn’s gift too.”

Ava reached over and took the ashtray from Shawn before he had time to react- or prepare for the loss of a lifetime, if the look in his eyes was to be believed. 

The smile evaporated instantly- a fact which hit you with a pang- as Shawn’s brows knit together.

“So what, now I just don’t get a gift?”

“No, Shawn, you can go back to the unopen gifts, or you can steal.” There was a desperate edge to Kathy’s voice, as if she’d start shaking like a chihuahua if Shawn didn’t play along. 

He wasn’t playing along.

“Okay, I’ll steal my gift back.” Shawn attempted to grab the ashtray out of Ava’s hands, but her red talons fastened tighter around the ceramic.

“No, I don’t think you can do that.” Ava delivered her line with what would have been an Oscar-worthy performance, if she weren’t a total she-devil. You’d caught her in the break room a dozen times before, taking the last cup of coffee without refilling the machine.  Satan.

You liked Shawn's brand of rebel, but not rule-breakers like Ava. There was a clear difference, even though Kathy was quick to intervene with a meek,

“You have to grab someone else’s gift.”

“That’s not fair,” Shawn was smiling, but his eyes were cold. “That- you shouldn’t be able to do that, that’s like, mean. That’s mean as hell.”

Welcome to the finance team, You thought, drinking the last of your champagne and noting that you and Austin were the only non-numbers people left at the party. Outnumbered, outplanned. 

“You know what, Ava?” Shawn was growling now, looking at the ashtray in Ava’s hands instead of her face. “You are a wicked little woman.”

Oh. That phrase did something to you. Or maybe it was the combination of mulled wine, champagne and eggnog- you weren’t drunk, but you sure as hell weren’t sober enough to play your usual quiet role. 

“Shawn?”

His head whipped around to face you, mouth open like he was preparing to say something until you grabbed his hand and picked your present up from the table, shoving it into Shawn’s arms. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Kathy. But we have an early morning deadline tomorrow so I think Shawn and I should make haste now.”

Make haste? Maybe the eggnog was stronger than you thought.

Shawn started heading for the door without saying anything, but you stopped, turned on your heel, and grabbed the ashtray out of Ava’s hands. 

“By the way, I’m stealing this. See you in the Wednesday catch-up.”

Was the look on Ava’s face worth the complaint you’d be getting from HR? Maybe not. 

Were the hearts in Shawn’s eyes worth it? Absolutely.

He was silent until you shut Kathy’s front door behind you. Then he asked,

“Why’d you do that? I don’t even know you.”

“You will.” You smacked yourself internally. “I mean, we work on the same team. You have a couple weeks left to get to know me. Um, anyway, Ava was asking for it. Woman never refills the coffee machine.”

Shawn’s jaw tensed. “That’s her?”

You nodded. “Everyone else refills it but she just takes whatever’s left and waits for someone else to do the hard work. She doesn’t deserve-” You looked at the cheap piece-of-shit sky blue ashtray in your hands- “A present of this caliber.”

“Right.” Shawn was looking at you now, and you were shocked at the sudden darkness in his blue eyes. “Can I drive you home, or do you have a ride?”

You shook your head. “I was gonna take the bus.”

“At this time of night?” He raised his eyebrows. “Come on.”

You shouldn’t have been surprised when he led you to a jet black motorcycle parked not too far down the street. It was exactly Shawn’s style, and knowing you’d get to sit on the back of it, breeze in your hair, hands wrapped tight around his middle…

Yeah, this was better than The Grinch.

If the hint of leather and musk was sexy in the office, the full scent of it in your nostrils as Shawn straddled the bike was enough to leave your knees weak. Did people born after 1899 still swoon? Maybe you’d restart the trend. 

The distracting scent was interrupted as he turned and slipped a black helmet over your head, sealing you into something grittier- the leather smell of him was still there, mixed with sweat. Great, now I want to live in a helmet. 

Shawn's body was firm under your arms, well-muscled in spite of the long office hours you both worked. Would it be creepy to splay your fingers across his stomach, feel the groove of every muscle?

Definitely. Fight that urge, you told yourself. It’s not worth the trip to HR.

You had to yell to direct him to your place, a small apartment on the outskirts of the city. The building wasn’t especially pretty from the outside, but rent was cheap and you didn’t have to worry about neighbors making any noise complaints- they blared techno music 24 hours a day, making it hard to hear yourself think without specialist equipment. 

“This the place?” Shawn parked up and walked with you to the door.

“Yeah.” His scent lingered in your nostrils as you gathered the courage to look Shawn in the face. “Do you like hot chocolate?”

“Do I?” He grinned. “Is there anyone who doesn’t?”

“Come on in.” You held the door open and pressed the elevator button. 

“You have marshmallows?”

“I wouldn’t invite a man up to my apartment if I didn’t have marshmallows.” Did you really just say that? 

Shawn didn’t seem to mind, if the way his nose wrinkled in laughter was any indication. Of course. It wasn’t enough for him to be effortlessly sexy, he had to be effortlessly cute too. 

Silence descended between the two of you in the elevator. If clinging to him for the past 20 minutes while the motorcycle swerved through city traffic wasn’t enough, now you were just a few feet away from him. Maybe you were one hot chocolate away from everything you’d been daydreaming about for the past few months. Dating, or casually banging the temp, wasn’t against company policy (you’d checked repeatedly since Shawn started), so what was the worst that could happen?

Muscles in Shawn’s neck twitched as he drank you in and gulped. 

“You look really nice.”

“Do I?” You looked down. In all the commotion you hadn’t had time to buy anything christmassy for the party, settling for a tight red mini dress that came to just above your knees and matching heels. You’d hoped white leggings would make you look more christmassy, but you felt like a gigantic candy cane. 

But looking into Shawn’s dark blue eyes, you realized that wasn’t such a bad thing. Not if he wanted to eat you up.

“Mmhmm.” He was trying too hard to sound noncommittal. You’d barely spoken outside of work, but one thing was obvious about Shawn: he wasn’t neutral about anything. The ashtray in your hand was just one example. 

“Thanks.” You said, once the silence had dragged on a beat too long. The elevator dinged and you led him through the loud corridor to your apartment: a studio with just enough room for a bed, sofa and TV, with a corner kitchen overlooking it all. All three DVDs of The Grinch were laid out on the coffee table, but you hoped he wouldn’t notice those. You tucked them under the coffee table when he wasn't looking. 

You made the hot chocolate while Shawn leaned against the kitchen counter with eyes that kept wandering across your body when he thought you weren’t looking. One serving of cream, marshmallows, and grated chocolate later, you were on the couch together. Inches apart. Living in a tiny studio never felt so good. 

“I love your place.” Shawn smiled, licking whipped cream from his top lip. “Do I hear techno?”

“Yeah.” you rolled your eyes. “The neighbours are crazy for it. I think one of them is a DJ and the other one is deaf. They’re a match made in heaven.”

He laughed. “I don’t mind that kind of music.”

“What do you like?” You made a point of crossing your legs as you asked. Is this how people flirt?

His eyes flickered to your legs before he shook his head slightly.

“Don’t laugh.”

“Tell me.”

“Alright, I like… musicals. Hamilton, Hadestown, Mean Girls, I don’t care if it’s on Broadway or not. I just love them.”

You couldn’t help but snort in surprise. 

“Hey, you said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I’m sorry!” You took a sip of hot chocolate to hide another giggle. “That’s just not what I expected.”

“You expected metal and rock, didn’t you?”

You gestured at his leather biker jacket. “You kind of have the right look for that.”

“Haven’t you ever seen Grease?” He purposefully smoothed a hand over his hair, and suddenly Shawn made sense. A blonde Danny Zuko. 

“You’re full of surprises.” 

Shawn hummed in agreement as he sipped the hot chocolate. “So are you. I wasn’t expecting you to… come to the rescue at that party. Thanks again, by the way.”

You shrugged. “I’ve been wanting to stick it to Ava for years. Thank you for the opportunity.”

“Still.” An easygoing, maybe nervous, smile spread across his face like melted butter. “How can I make it up to you?”

“Forget about it, it’s nothing.” You almost missed the way his smile faltered slightly. He’s playing at something. 

“I don’t think I wanna forget about it.”

“No?” The sugar from the hot chocolate started to buzz through your veins. “Maybe I should make you.”

His eyes widened, but darkened as well. Lust. You knew it well, mainly from working so close to Shawn for so long. Your breathing quickened as he put his mug on the coffee table. Is he leaving? Had you pushed it too far too fast?

“Okay.” Shawn studied you. “How are you going to do that?”

In for a penny…

“You still have the present I picked up from Kathy's, right?”

He frowned and reached for the bag. “Yeah?”

“Open it.” You shifted closer to Shawn as he picked the jet black ashtray out of the bag. 

His eyes went wide, a confused smile lighting up his features. “Jet black? My favorite color? This is even more badass than the last one!”

You nodded, leaning closer to his ear to whisper, “I’m going to take that ashtray and put it right here.” You took it from his hands and placed it on the coffee table.

“What else?” Shawn breathed, and you could see something twitch in his pants. It took everything in you to fight a smirk. 

“I’m going to take your hands, I’m going to suck the rings off of each finger and spit them into that goddamn catch-all. Then, I’m going to let you fuck me.”

Silence. You fought to keep your breathing even, not daring to lean back and look him in the eye. Oh god, he really had just come up for hot chocolate, hadn’t he? Shawn was-

Oh.

While you were busy fighting within yourself, Shawn took your face in his hands and kissed you. There was nothing innocent about this kiss; it was all tongue and tooth as you moved to sit on top of him, his hands on your lower back. 

He drank your breath in like a man parched, and it dawned on you Shawn must have been fighting the same attraction you’d been, for who knows how long? You swallowed his growl when you ground your hips against the hardness in his pants. 

“You keep doing that, I won’t last long.” He hissed in your ear, moving to devour your neck. 

You moaned in return as his hands grabbed your hips, helping you move in a rhythm that had the two of you out of breath in moments. 

Shawn wore his dark blue button-up mostly undone, and it didn’t take you long to undo the rest of the buttons, giving you access to his torso. He wasn’t overly muscled, but he was lean enough to have a clear outline of his abs, a V shape disappearing into his jeans. You drank him in like a tall glass of eggnog before leaning down to attack his neck, nibbling at his ear until his hands tightened on your hips, tilting you back and forth. 

Shawn’s plush lips were pink, swollen from kissing as he reached a hand towards your face. 

Now you could read the inscription on one signet ring. It was big and heavy-looking, full of tiny writing. 

When stormy weather comes around

It was made in heaven

When sunny skies break through behind the clouds

I wish it could last forever

“Queen.” You said, toying with the ring on his pinky finger. “Interesting.”

Before he could reply, you took his finger into your mouth and sucked, swirling your tongue around the tip before pulling at it with your teeth. It gave way easily. True to your word, you spat it into the ashtray in a way that had Shawn’s breath hitching in the back of his throat. 

His middle finger, the one with the calavera, tasted of mint and sugar, like the peppermint popcorn from Kathy’s party. Once the ring was free you sat back and opened your mouth for Shawn to see the skull balanced on your tongue before you dropped it too in the ashtray. 

“Fuck, you’re hot.” He growled as you moved on to the final ring, the one with the sparrow.

How was it possible that seeing his hands bare was hotter than seeing most men fully naked?

Shawn shrugged off his leather jacket and shirt, leaving him bare from the waist up. 

“I think you’re overdressed.” He smirked, hands reaching for the zip at the back of your dress. You stood up to step out of it, leaving you in thigh-high white stockings and a set of red lace underwear that matched your heels. 

He drank you in like a work of art before standing, taking your head in both hands, and capturing your lips with his. He tasted like eggnog and something stronger- maybe whiskey, which had also been a staple at the party. You were just glad you were both clearly sober enough to consent.

In fact, Shawn was sober enough to pick you up, your legs wrapping tight around his waist in an instant. 

“Which way to the bedroom?”

"Shawn, it's a studio. The bed's right behind you. The light is by the fridge.”

“Good. I want to see you.” He devoured your neck on the way, pressing you against the wall so he could turn the light on before continuing the journey. 

You bounced on the bed as he set you down and crawled up your body. Heat radiated from every line of muscle, and you traced them all as you stroked his arms and down his back, pulling him close enough that it was hard to breathe. Hard to think. 

Not that you were interested in thoughts- the sensations he could pull from your neck with his lips alone were mind-numbing, especially when he licked his way up your neck to whisper,

“Can I taste you, beautiful?”

You could only nod and watch as he kissed down your body, pushing down your bra to give his tongue access to your nipples, learning every movement that pulled a fresh cry from your lips and repeating it again on your other breast. 

His fingers hooked around your panties and pulled them down. Shawn kept eye contact with you as he shoved them into his pocket, earning a groan from you. Were you into that? When it came to Shawn, yes. 

From the first hot press of his tongue to your clit, one thing was obvious: he loved to eat. And he was good at it. Even the expel of air as he smirked against you had your hips grinding, pleading for more friction. 

Then one of those damned fingers slid into you, curling, searching for the right spot, and your own hands flew to his slicked-back hair, ruffling it, pulling. Shawn groaned into you at the sensation, speeding up his ministrations. 

“I- I need-” You gasped, not knowing how to finish your sentence when he was between your legs, your panties in his pocket, your red heels no doubt leaving marks on his back. 

You came. The growl that left Shawn’s throat as he attacked your clit with his tongue was nothing short of brutal, and you loved it. Pled with him not to stop. Clawed at his hair, tightened your thighs around his head as he milked your orgasm for all it was worth. 

When it was over and your clit was at its most sensitive, he blew cold air there, causing a whimper to leave your lips. 

Shawn climbed back up your body to give you a searing kiss. His lips were salty, his tongue anything but gentle as it toyed with yours. 

“Fuck me.” You wrapped your legs around him and ground your hips to his. 

He smirked before wrapping his hands around your back and flipping the two of you over so you were straddling him before he retorted, 

“Ride me.”

Your shaking hands made quick work of his belt, unzipping his black jeans and pulling down his boxers. When Shawn’s cock sprang free, you were almost nervous. He was bigger than the men you’d been with in the past, but when you wrapped your fingers around his cock and gave a few experimental pumps his eyes flew back in his head. 

I can work with that. 

His fingers toyed with the white lace of your stockings as you began to ride him. His cock was incredible, hitting a new place with every thrust. With one hand on your hip and the other on your breast, Shawn started fucking up into you in time with your bounces. 

Every fluid movement of your hips was an experiment as you set a pace that was all for Shawn: when he groaned, you tightened around him. Every sensation was tense, building up to something incredible. 

Words got caught in your throat, pushed to the side by loud moans that somehow said more than words ever could. Your hips sped in time with Shawn’s thrusts as you locked eyes.

The climax hit you both at once, Shawn calling out your name as he unloaded into you and you collapsed on top of him, feeling utterly satisfied for the first time in… well, ever. You’d thought you knew what it was like to be satisfied before, but this was something else. You couldn’t move for several long minutes. 

Shawn’s hands stroked your back as you both came down from the high. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Hey, beautiful.” 

“Hey.”

“How was that for you?”

“Earth-shattering. You?”

“Dazzling. I can see why you haven’t worn these to the office before-” He tapped your heels- “I’d never get any work done. Nobody would.”

You hummed against him, tiredness pulling at your eyes. You winced as you moved off of him, suddenly sore from the roughness of the night’s actions, just from the size of him.

Shawn shot you a shy smile as he buttoned his jeans once more. “Hey, did I see The Grinch under your coffee table?”

Heat rushed to your face. “Yeah. I usually watch it every year.”

“Could I join you?”

You shared a warm smile. “I’d like that.”

[spencerreidslove]

Let’s Be Bad

A/N: I was rewatching season 6 episode 13 “The Thirteenth Step” when it hit me. What if Spencer and Y/N were a crime duo being hunted by the BAU? So this idea was born. This fic is my baby and probably one of the longest things I have ever written. There is mentions of aclchol, a couple sexual themes, and normal Criminal Minds case stuff, so be aware. Let me know if you guys want a part 2 with their interrogation and stuff.

————-

“Buckle up crime fighters, because this one is bad.” Garcia said, standing up at the board. She clicked the remote to show a murder scene, four bodies in total, in a totally destroyed gas station.

“Not only did our bad guy murder four people last night in Chandler, Arizona, the police believe that he also did this.”

Gracia clicked her remote and the picture changed to another scene, six bodies this time, in a drugstore.

“A massacre just outside of Las Vegas, three weeks ago.”

“Three weeks is a long cooling off period.” Rossi said.

“M.O’s the same, though. All shot in the head and then all dragged into a line, store totally destroyed.” Prentiss said.

“With last night’s murder bringing the body count up to 10, the police need our help now. Wheels up in thirty.” Hotch said, standing up from the table.

-

“Seriously? You want to go somewhere cold?” Spencer asked as you made your way into a small sandwich shop, just over the Utah border.

“Yes! Imagine waking up on Christmas Day to a white Christmas.” You said, wrapping your arms around one of Spencer’s.

“Where would we go that’s like that?” He asked, looking up at the menu, printed on a board.

“Wyoming. Up in the mountains. It’s nice there. We’ll get a cabin, live up there, together.”

“Alright,” Spencer said, smiling. “We’ll go to Wyoming. After.” He put one of his arms around your shoulders.

“After.” You agreed.

The two of you made your way to the counter, where a man, no older than 20 or so was waiting.

“What can I get you?” He asked, cleaning a spot on the counter.

He looked up and immediately his eyes latched onto yours.

Spencer said his sandwich order, but the boy didn’t seem to hear him. He was too busy staring at you, making you very uncomfortable.

“Hey.” Spencer said, slamming his hand on the counter. This seemed to knock the boy out of his trance.

“Sorry.” The boy said, still not taking his eyes off you.

“Take your eyes off my girlfriend and take our orders.” Spencer said, getting angrier.

“Sorry, she’s just like really pretty.” The boy said. Under his breath he mumbled, “I don’t see how she ended up with you.”

“That’s it.” Spencer said. He reached into his waistband and pulled out his pistol. Spencer quickly shot the boy in the head, and then turned to the other two patrons in the store. He quickly shot them, and then started moving to put them in a line.

This wasn’t the plan. You had only killed 2 days ago, the police would be quick to link you to this murder. But, Spencer sometimes had a temper and when it took over, there was no going back.

You pulled out your own pistol, and shot the remaining store worker who had come out from the back room.

“I’ll line them up.” You said to Spencer. “Go clear the security cameras.”

Spencer nodded and went into the back room. You spent the next few minutes lining the bodies up in a row. When you went into the back room, you saw Spencer toying with the panel that controlled the cameras.

The cameras quickly went blank, and only showed dark screens.

“I’m so glad you’re smart enough to know how to do that.” You said.

“IQ of 187 sweetheart.” Spencer said. “C’mon, let’s get going before the cops show up.”

-

“Hotch!” Emily called putting across the parking lot. “You aren’t going to believe this.”

Hotch turned his attention from the local police officer to Emily.

“A witness was next door at the craft store and saw a man and woman leave the sandwich shop together a couple of minutes after the gunfire.” Emily said.

“We’re looking for a man and woman killing team?” Hotch asked.

Emily shrugged. “Apparently.”

“Another witness said he saw the back of the liscine plate from across the street.” Morgan said, coming up to the group. “He didn’t get any numbers but he saw it was from Nevada.”

“Makes sense of their first murder was in Vegas.” Emily said.

“Prentiss, make sure the witness who saw the man and woman gets to a sketch artist. Morgan, see if the man remembers what type of car they were driving, then see if Garcia can find anybody from Nevada who drives that model.” Hotch said, directing out tasks.

“Going from three weeks to a 2 day cooling period is a massive deescalation.” Rossi said. “Something in that shop must’ve set them off.”

“You said the security cameras were wiped?” Hotch asked.

“Yeah, you can’t even access them now.” Rossi said.

“Get then to Garcia, she’s the only person who might be able to get them back and working”.

-

“They’ve found out that we’re a man and a woman team.” You said, calling out to Spencer, who was in the bathroom. You were laying on the bed in a random hotel, watching the news, where a blonde woman was talking about your most recent murder.

“Doesn’t matter. They haven’t linked us to the others, have they?” Spencer asked, coming out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“They don’t have a clue.” You said.

“Good. For all they know we just shoot random people. They have no clue about the others.” He said.

You smiled as he came over beside you and started kissing your neck. “They’re never gonna get us.” He said.

You laughed a little as Spencer nicked lower on your neck.

“They’re too stupid to know what we’ve done.” You said. You could feel Spencer smile as he continued his kisses lower.

-

“What have you got Garcia?” Hotch asked to the laptop that was sitting on a table in the local police precinct.

“Not a lot, sir. Whoever wiped these cameras is some kind of genius. It’s nearly impossible to get the footage. And I am a cyber genius.” Garcia said.

“So you can’t get any footage off them?”

“Sir, I said it was nearly impossible. I will have this footage recovered wether it kills me. Au revoir!” Garcia said, signing off.

“These sketches aren’t helpful in the slightest.” Prentiss said dropping the pictures on the table. “The witness said she only saw the side profile of the woman and the man had sunglasses on and was faced away from her for most of the time.”

Hotch sighed. “We don’t have enough.”

“Ok, why these people? Why these places? They’re clearly going somewhere, but where is that?” Morgan asked.

“We have too many questions and not enough answers.” JJ said.

-

You were laying across the backseat of the car, your head in Spencer’s lap. You were drinking some kind of random alcohol Spencer had picked up straight out of the bottle.

“I can’t believe we’re here.” Spencer said, stroking your hair and looking out of the window.

“I could’ve waited.” You said.

Your car was parked down the street from your childhood home. It was your brother’s birthday and you knew he would be home. It was finally time to exact your revenge, just had Spencer did.

“Y/N, c’mon. It’ll be good for him to be gone.” Spencer said. “Plus, I get to see your childhood room in all its glory.”

You laughed a little and shoved him lightly. “You got it?” You asked.

Spencer moved as he reachedfor his bag in the front seat. He pulled out a small vile of poison. “Wouldn’t forget it.”

You slowly sat up. “We have a birthday party to attend.”

-

“Oh!” Garcia cried, looking at her computer screen.

She quickly reached over and dialed for Hotch’s phone number. “What have you got, Garcia?”

“I got the footage back! It took a lot of work and a lot of trouble but I got it! It’s already sent to your tablets.”

Hotch picked up the tablet and clicked play on the video Garcia sent him. In the video, a young man and woman were walking into a sandwich shop, talking and holding hands.

“Keep an eye on those customers that just walked in.” Garcia said.

They reached the counter and engaged in a heated discussion with a worker.

“There’s no sound on the original video, so I don’t know what they’re saying.” Garcia said.

The man took a pistol out of his waistband and shot the worker, and then turned and shop the other customers. The woman reached and grabbed a pistol and shop the other employee that had come running out.

The woman began lining the bodies up while the man disappeared into the back room. The woman joined him, and then the cameras went dark.

“Garcia, run their faces, see if anything comes up.” Hotch said.

“Already on it. If they have ever been photographed, I will find their entire life.”

Hotch let out a sigh of relief.

They finally had a break in the case.

-

“I’m nervous.” You said. You and Spencer were standing on the front porch of your childhood house, waiting to ring the bell.

“It’ll be fine. We get in, act all friendly, and then we put it into their drinks, and then we get out.” Spencer said, coming over and rubbing your back.

“Alright.” You said, ringing the doorbell.

There was a moment before somebody came to the door. “Y/N?” A woman asked on the other side of the door.

“Hi, Mom.” You said.

“I thought you said you’d never wanted to come back here again?” Your mom asked.

“Yeah, well things change.” You said. “This is Spencer, he’s coming in too.”

You and Spencer made your way past your mom into the living room where your brother and his wife were sitting.

“Y/N?” You brother asked.

“Max.” You said, addressing him. “Happy Birthday.” It took everything in your power not to slap him. He was the reason for all your suffering.

“It’s nice to see you.” He said, standing up and going to hug you. You flinched slightly, but still managed to hug him back. He squeezed you just a little too tightly.

“And who’s this?” Max asked, looking at Spencer.

“Spencer.” You said.

Max sighed and shook his head. “Never one to elaborate.” He stuck out his hand for Spencer to shake.

Spencer kindly shook it back, giving Max just the slightest smile.

“Happy Birthday.” Spencer said.

You caught Spencer’s eye as Max moved to sit back down. It would be a happy birthday, just not for Max.

-

“We are looking for a man and woman killing team, they are most likely in a relationship and are on a mission.” Hotch said, standing in front of the local PD.

“At this time we do not know what their mission is, but we believe they are on a trip to reach that point. They started in Nevada, and were last seen in Utah. They could be headed for any of the surrounding states, including back to Nevada or Arizona.” Prentiss said.

“They are rapidly devolving, as they went from having a three week cooling off period, to two days. We don’t know when they’ll strike again and have to catch them sooner rather than later.” Rossi said.

“All of their attacks have been in small stores; a drug store, a gas station, a sandwich shop. We believe they choose these places due to personal connection to one. Whoever they are going after probably owns a small store.” Morgan said.

“With that in mind, we suggest all owners of small stores who know somebody who looks like this, to keep an eye out. Do not try to approach them, they are armed and dangerous.” JJ said, from her place outside, briefing the news.

“Everybody keep an eye out and be vigilant.” Hotch said.

The crowd dispersed. Morgan’s phone began to ring.

“Talk to me Babygirl.” He said, answering.

“Well, tall dark and handsome I have some great news for you. I got a hit off the faces from the security feed.” Garcia said.

Morgan put her on speakerphone and the team gathered around to listen.

“Your man is Spencer Reid. Child prodigy from Las Vegas, he graduated high school at age 12 and his IQ tests 187. He dropped out of college at age 16 due to the fact that his mother’s schizophrenia was getting worse. Reid became her full time caregiver until around age 25, when he sighned her up for a new drug test that involved her living in a new campus.

“It seemed to be working, until a year ago when the main Doctor administered a new drug cocktail that was not FDA approved, and ended up killing Reid’s mother and several other patients.” Garcia said.

“Garcia, where’s that doctor now? They might be going to kill him if they both lost a parent.” Rossi said.

“I would say yes, but it seems like they already have. Four weeks ago the doctor, his wife, and son were found dead in their apartment from cyanide poisoning.” Garcia said.

“What about the girl?” Prentiss asked.

“Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She is from Silverton, Colorado. She was working in a casino in Vegas until around a month ago.”

“Must be how they met.” Morgan said.

“She filed several cases against her older brother Max Y/L/N for physical abuse, but the charges were dropped everytime. From the looks of her hospital records it was bad.”

“They’ve exacted their revenge on Reid’s nemesis, now they want revenge for Y/N. Garcia what’s Max’s address?” Hotch said.

“He won’t be there. On his wife’s Instagram it says they’re going home for his birthday. I’ve sent you that address.” Garcia said.

“We need to get there, and fast.” Rossi said.

-

Talking and laughing with your family for several hours was painful, and Spencer could tell. They had watched you suffer for years at the hands of your brother, and did nothing.

“Why don’t I refill everybody’s drinks?” You asked, standing up.

“I’ll help you.” Spencer said.

After you had collected everybody’s cups, you made your way to the kitchen where you filled everybody’s cups with what they had asked for.

Spencer pulled the cyanide vial out of his pocket, and put a little bit in each cup. When you returned to the living room, you handed everybody their cups and watched as they took drinks.

It would be a few minutes before the poison started to kick in, but you couldn’t wait.

After a few moments, your mom started to choke.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Your dad asked. Then he started to choke. After just a few seconds, everybody was on the floor, choking in pain.

You and Spencer quickly came around, grabbing phones and smashing them with your heels, making sure no one could call 911.

When you reached Max, you kicked his face. “That’s what you get you son of a bitch!”

You kicked him again, and again. Before you could do some more damage, Spencer grabbed your arm.

“We better get out of here, darling. We have a lot of ground to cover.” He said. You nodded and followed him out of the house, with one last slam of the door.

-

“Dammit!” Morgan said, entering the house and seeing that all members of the Y/L/N family were dead in the living room floor.

“They’ve already been here.”

“Hotch, these bodies are still warm, they can’t be far away.” Prentiss said. “We probably just missed them.”

“Hey! We just got a hit from APB, their car was seen headed twoards a hotel a few miles from here.” The local sheriff said.

“Dave stay here and figure out what happened, Morgan, Prentiss, JJ, with me.” Hotch said.

-

You and Spencer we laying on your bed in your hotel room, drinking the same alcohol from earlier.

“You were right.” You said.

“I am about most things. Be more specific.” Spencer said, taking the bottle from you.

“That it would feel good to have him gone.” You said. “I already feel twenty times freer.”

“I knew you would.” Spencer said. He placed the bottle on the bed side table and rolled ove on top of you. “I know lots of things that would make you feel good.”

Suddenly, there was a pounding on the door.

“Spencer Reid! Y/N Y/L/N! This is the FBI open the door!” A male voice called from the outside.

You and Spencer both looked at each other in terror.

Could they maybe have found us? Your eyes asked.

The door was suddenly knocked open and FBI agents were flooding into your room.

Spencer and you were being pulled apart and cuffed.

“Spencer Reid, Y/N Y/L/N, you are being charged with the murders of 21 people.” A serious looking man said.

“What?” You said. “You have the wrong people!”

“No we’re pretty sure we don’t.” A brunette woman said.

“You have to have the wrong people! We haven’t done anything!” Spencer said.

You were both being hauled up by the agents behind you.

“Anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.” The agent behind you said, reading off your Miranda rights.

Your eyes caught Spencer’s as you were pulled to separate police cars.

Could this really be it? You thought. It looked like it just might be.

Tags! (Open)

@rexorangecouny @magnificentmgg @rachelxwayne @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @just-damn-bored @andreasworlsboring101

[call-me-rei]

Chapter 5

The weeks that passed brought changes to San Diego. The weather was starting to cool down, although not enough for kids to go to school in coats. Still, it was evident that the summer season was ending in the northern hemisphere. The sticking feeling of humidity that wavered around in the air was dying down and being replaced with brisk, refreshing breezes.

Vic smiled to himself as he sat in the backyard of his house. He loved the cooler seasons of the year. The town he had lived in previously was always so cold, albeit gloomy, but Vic enjoyed it. He saw the sun on the rare occasions that it wasn’t hidden behind clouds and enjoyed the cool temperatures that happened because of that. Then he moved to California and the sun was always shining bright. He had no idea if the state ever saw temperatures lower than eighty degrees.

But today was a counter to that thought. He sat on the swing set his father had built in the backyard and lazily rocked back and forth, enjoying the cool air that blew through his hair and tickled his cheeks.

It was peaceful in Vic’s neighborhood. Even though it was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, there was hardly any activity on the streets. Maybe families were sleeping in, or maybe they had gone out before he got outside. Either way he was enjoying the quiet that surrounded him.

Vic had had a good week. Ever since he received the picture from Kellin, the two boys had been leaving drawings and little notes in their shared desks. Vic was nervous that Kellin would have stopped after he got Vic’s first picture, but when he got to his classroom the day after and saw the thank you note from his new friend, he knew that he needed to continue being his secret pen pal.

So the boys kept it up for days. Then days became weeks and they were still leaving little things in each other’s desks. Sometimes it was a random drawing they’d made in art class or during a brain break, and other times they were asking each other important questions:

Do you like cake or pie better?

What’s your favorite color?

Do you have any brothers or sisters?

I’m sorry I’m asking so many questions. I just wanna get to know my new friend :)

The boys quickly learned how to communicate with each other to make each other’s day. It started with Kellin asking Vic random questions to which Vic always answered. Then the blond boy would draw a picture that corresponded with the answer he was given. When Vic had answered that his favorite color was red Kellin drew him a picture of Pikachu in a red rocket ship with a red flower crown on its head. Vic kept that picture in a sheet protector in his binder with the other pictures Kellin had given him.

And of course Vic drew him pictures back. It almost seemed like a competition to see who could outdo the other with their artistic abilities, but neither boy saw it that way. They just wanted to show that they cherished the friendship the other had offered. What better way to do that than cute pictures of their favorite things?

Vic leaned back on the swing and looked at the sky. He had a genuine smile on his face as the thought about his interactions with Kellin. He never would have thought that he’d make a friend in the first week of school, let alone keep a friend, but he had and he was happy. He was genuinely happy.

His family of course noticed the boy’s happiness. They didn’t comment on it though, for fear that it would make him revert back to his gloomy self. Still, they enjoyed seeing the oldest son happy when he got home from school. He was even beginning to talk more at home, something neither parent thought would happen.

Mrs. Fuentes looked out the sliding glass door into the backyard and watched her son on the swing. She smiled at his smile. She wasn’t sure why her son was so happy, but as long as he was out of his funk, she wasn’t going to question it. All that mattered was that her boy was doing better than ever before.

The other boy involved in this friendship was also doing better than before, although it was harder to tell. Kellin was always a happy child and rarely seemed to get upset, so it was hard to tell if he was having a bad day. Even his mother couldn’t see it unless he told her outright. So when the friendly relationship with Vic started no one noticed how much Kellin needed it.

Kellin appreciated how much Vic seemed to be drawn to him. He knew the new student was wary of making friends, so he felt flattered that he was the only one who could capture his attention. It made him feel special and wanted. Out of all the students in third grade, Vic had chosen him. That thought always made him smile.

The two continued to talk underneath their tree at recess. Vic always assumed that Kellin would leave one day when he got bored and go play with his friends, but the blond boy showed no signs of doing so. In fact, Kellin looked forward to sitting with Vic every day. He loved talking about nerdy things that his other friends had no interest in. Jack and Jesse thought Pokémon was nerdy and laughed at the kids with backpacks or clothing that represented the series. Kellin, not wanting to be included in the taunting, always kept silent, something that he regretted each time it happened.

But with Vic he could talk freely about the series, and about anything else he wanted to. Vic was a great listener and let Kellin talk about whatever he wanted. Kellin knew it was because the other boy wasn’t keen on talking, but that didn’t make a difference to either of them. Vic was always happy to listen to his new friend speak. And boy, did Kellin speak.

Anyone who spent time with Kellin knew he sociable. He wouldn’t consider himself an extrovert like others would, but his ADD made him susceptible to speaking fast and moving faster. He found an interest in many different things and was always excited to talk about them to anyone who’d listen. Even complete strangers. There was one moment in his life when he saw a teenager with bright purple hair and immediately went up to them to ask them about it.

“That’s so cool! I wish I could do that! You’re so lucky!” he had said to the unknown boy in the middle of the grocery store. The teenage boy just chuckled and thanked him for the complement before walking off to continue his shopping.

Some people thought this side of Kellin was strange, but not Vic. Vic liked that Kellin took control of the conversation and didn’t force him to talk when he didn’t want to. It made him feel comfortable knowing he could add in when the anxiety he sometimes felt lessened. Vic also liked how interested Kellin was in things he hadn’t seen before. Kellin would ask many questions that Vic took his time answering. He would have stuttered out an answer to anyone else, but Kellin made him feel comfortable enough to come out of his shell and talk about himself or his interests more freely.

Both boys appreciated each other so much, even if they’d never said that before. Instead, they continued with their notes in each other’s desks and their talks at recess that each party looked forward to every day.

But the Monday after the that cool day on the swings changed things for Vic and Kellin.

The two friends had spent the morning in their homeroom classes learning the respective content before they went to specials. Kellin had art that day while Vic had music. Neither was complaining; both boys enjoyed starting their week in their favorite fine arts class.

Kellin sat in art listening to their teacher, Mrs. Miller, talk about the day’s project. “I want you all to create a picture of a happy moment in your life. We’ll use pencils to sketch it then we’ll add watercolors next week. Start by brainstorming and when you have your idea write it down so you don’t forget it. I’ll come by and ask you some questions before you start your sketch.”

Kellin smiled to himself as Mrs. Miller talked. He was excited about this project. A happy moment in his life? He had so many he could sketch! Happy moments just seemed to come naturally to him, so he wasted no time writing his ideas on the scratch piece of paper the art teacher had handed out.

By the time Mrs. Miller came over to his table Kellin had six ideas he was passionate about drawing. There was his first visit to the beach when he was five, the first time he rode a bike, a random day he played with Jack and Jesse, the one summer he went to a waterpark, last Christmas when he got a remote-controlled dinosaur, and the day he made a new friend.

“You have a lot here, Kellin,” Mrs. Miller said. “Do you know which one you want to draw?”

Kellin shook his head. “I like all of them!” He hadn’t realized how much of an attachment he had to each of the memories. He frowned. “How am I supposed to pick?”

“Well, when you think of the time you were the most happy, what do you think about? Whatever it is, draw that.” Kellin thought the words over as Mrs. Miller left to speak to another student.

What was the happiest moment in his life? How could he figure that out before class ended? The answer was he couldn’t. Specials ended before Kellin had made a decision. That frustrated the boy, and he took that frustration with him to lunch.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jack asked when he noticed his blond friend was surprisingly in a bad mood. As usual, Jack, Jesse, and Kellin were sitting behind each other at their respective lunch tables so they could turn and talk to each other when they were done eating.

“Mrs. Miller wants us to draw a picture of a happy moment in our life,” Kellin answered, “and I can’t think of what I wanna draw.”

“But you’re like, the happiest person I know,” the brunette said. Jesse nodded along. “How can you not think of something?”

“I did, but I have so many that I can’t pick just one. And Mrs. Miller won’t let me draw all of my ideas.” Kellin huffed at the end of his sentence. He was annoyed that his teacher didn’t allow him to draw more than one idea, no matter how much he begged.

“Man, I’m gonna hate this project,” Jesse said with a shake of his head. Jack looked to him and nodded in agreement. If Kellin was having so much trouble, then the two of them were goners.

“Okay, but what am I supposed to do?” Kellin asked in annoyance. This wasn’t about them, it was about him, and he needed advice.

“Just close your eyes and point to something,” Jack suggested. Kellin pouted. He would have loved to do that if he didn’t feel so connected to all of the things on that list. Blindly picking one wouldn’t sit right with him. He wanted to genuinely draw the moment.

He explained this to his friends who offered less than helpful solutions. They meant well but Kellin was stubborn. He wanted it to be his way, but his brain and Mrs. Miller were making that difficult.

He kept up with his frustration as he went out to the playground with his class. He kicked rocks down the sidewalk that lead to the jungle gym and swing sets, opting to walk away from the tree he had sat under for weeks. He couldn’t be bothered with sitting still; he needed to do something to help this feeling building up in his chest.

Ms. Barnes’ homeroom came outside shortly after Kellin’s class had. Vic walked toward his familiar spot but was surprised to see that his new friend wasn’t there. Usually when one of their classes came outside before the other, the boy would be under the tree waiting for his friend. But today there was no Kellin. Where did he go? Was he abandoning him? It was about time, Vic thought sadly.

Vic wanted to sit in silence and wallow in his broken heart, but he heard a sound that drew his attention.

The brunette turned his head to the left and saw his new friend. Kellin was seemingly upset and was kicking gravel into the metal frame of the swing set, enjoying the harsh clicks and dings of the two objects meeting.

Vic, unsure why his always bubbly friend was in such a mood, slowly walked over to him. “Kellin?” he said softly. The blond boy ignored him; he didn’t want to talk. He was so frustrated that the only sounds he could hear were the rocks hitting metal and his heavy breathing as he kicked harder and harder.

“Kellin?” Vic tried again. When the boy didn’t respond Vic took it upon himself to get his attention. He put a calming hand on his friend’s shoulder which startled him. Kellin let out a high-pitched yelp as his body jerked up. He hadn’t realized someone was behind him.

“Sorry,” Vic said sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Kellin just huffed and turned his head away from his friend. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” Kellin muttered.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

The bright-eyed boy blew an angry breath from his nose. “No,” he answered, “I wanna swing.” Without another word Kellin took a few steps toward an empty swing and sat in the seat. He wanted to continue kicking rocks so that’s what he did. He sat on the seat and kicked the gravel underneath him, not intending to rock himself back and forth but achieving that anyway.

Vic didn’t know what to do. Kellin hadn’t invited him to swing with him, but he didn’t want to leave his upset friend alone. With a sigh he made a decision and sat in the swing next to Kellin. He hoped that Kellin wouldn’t tell him to go away, but in actuality, he was glad that Vic didn’t abandon him.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, neither boy knowing what to say. This was foreign to both of them; they had been speaking to each other since the day they met. It was all different and uncomfortable, especially to Vic. He never knew Kellin could be so quiet and that alone worried him. Whatever was bothering him needed to be put out in the open so he could have his friend back.

“Did you wanna talk?” Vic eventually asked.

Kellin sighed at the brown-eyed boy’s question. He didn’t want to talk, but he knew that Vic cared enough to stay with him while he was upset. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to open up to him.

“Vic?” The other boy hummed. “What’s a happy moment from your life?”

Vic looked at Kellin with furrowed brows. “Huh?”

Kellin sighed before he began his rambling. “Mrs. Miller is making us draw happy moments from our lives and I have a few but she only wants me to draw one, but I don’t think that’s fair to the other moments because they all mean so much to me. Jack and Jesse told me to just close my eyes and pick one, but I don’t wanna just draw a random moment that I didn’t really wanna draw in the first place, you know?”

Vic nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

“It’s just so frustrating because so many good things have happened to me, but I feel so stupid that I can’t just pick one.” Kellin frowned when he was done, looking down at his shoes that were still kicking the rocks below.

“I’m sorry.”

Kellin quirked an eyebrow. “For what?”

Vic shrugged. He wasn’t sure why he apologized, but he knew it made people feel better so why not?

It looked as if his kind gesture worked because Kellin’s lips finally turned up in a small smile. “Well, thanks.” Vic smiled back before he nudged his feet off the ground and began swinging slowly. Kellin looked at his friend rocking back and forth. “So what would you draw?” he asked.

Vic looked to his left. “For Mrs. Miller?” Kellin nodded. “Uh…”

The brunette had to think about it. It wasn’t easy for him to find happy moments in life, but knowing he had to before the next day when he had art put a bit of pressure on him. What would he draw?

“I guess I’d draw a picture of me reading to my brother. He loves when we read together, and it makes me happy too. Or I’d draw a picture of my new house. I finally have my own room and that’s pretty cool. Or maybe when we went to Universal over the summer. That was a lot of fun.”

Kellin nodded along as Vic spoke. “Okay, but which one of those was the happiest moment?”

Vic stopped swinging and looked up at the sky. There were some light clouds passing over the sun and a cool breeze rustling through the trees around them. It reminded him of the good feeling he had over the weekend; that even though he was at school and not sitting in his backyard, he was still content.

“None of them,” he answered with a soft smile. Kellin opened his mouth to continue his questioning, but Vic cut him off before he could start. “I mean, getting my own room was nice, and Universal was fun, and I always read to my brother so that’s a happiness that never leaves, but they aren’t the happiest things that have happened.”

“So what is?”

Vic bit his lip, embarrassed to admit the reason why he had been so happy lately, but fighting through it to say, “The day we met.”

Kellin’s wyes went wide. “Really?” The brown-eyed boy nodded. “Why?”

“Because that was the day I made a friend.”

“At this school?”

“Yeah…and ever.” Vic mumbled the last part, his cheeks beginning to burn.

“Ever?” Kellin was confused again. He chewed on his bottom lip as he thought over what his friend was telling him. “Wait, I’m your first friend?”

Vic nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re kinda my only friend.”

Kellin didn’t say anything. What could he say? What was he going to say when the shock wore off? His new friend had never had a friend before. Was that weird? Was it because he was weird? All of these questions swirled around Vic’s mind as he watched the boy next to him go through different confused expressions.

“Kellin?”

“Does that mean I’m your best friend?”

Vic blew out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and shrugged. He didn’t know how to answer that. He didn’t know anything about best friends since Kellin was the first and only friend he’d ever had. “I guess?”

The blond boy’s eyes lit up and became brighter than before. His lips broke out into a wide smile. “Oh wow that’s so cool! I think you’re my best friend too! I mean, Jack and Jesse are too but I don’t like playing with them as much as I like playing with you. And we can talk about Pokémon and I don’t feel like a dork. Yeah, I think you’re my best friend too.”

Vic couldn’t help but smile back. The content feeling turned into one of utter happiness. Not only was Kellin in a better mood but he had admitted that they were best friends. It was enough to make the grumpiest person feel warmth in their heart.

The two boys stayed on the swings and talked about their weekend. Of course, that meant discussing the latest episodes of Pokémon and Yu-Gi-Oh. When recess was over, they went inside their classrooms and left each other notes in their desks, hoping to continue the conversations from outside.

The next day Vic went to art and made good on his words from the day before. He drew a picture of himself sitting with Kellin under their tree. Both boys had smiles on their faces as they read the book in Vic’s hands. And since Vic had known exactly what he wanted to draw before he got to class that day, he was able to make two copies of the picture: one to turn in to Mrs. Miller that he drew in class and one he’d drawn the night before with more detail to give to Kellin with a note written on the back.

For my best friend

Kellin received the picture the day after and kept it in a folder with all of the other pictures and notes he’d gotten from Vic. The following Monday he went back to art and drew a picture of him and Vic soaring through the sky on the swings. It wasn’t necessarily the happiest moment in his life, but he had too many moments with Vic to just pick one.

[buckysrighthanddoll]

Nyx, of the Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

The reader is called Nyx in this, however, it is a reader insert :)

Warnings: language; slight pining; mentions of PTSD, anxiety, and drugs; the reader literally murders two people (oof)

The most recent addition to the Avengers--that’s who you were. They called you Nyx, the Greek Goddess of the night. You worked tirelessly at perfecting your powers--bringing death and sleep to people with a focused glance. You could also use “force fields” to do many things, including moving objects and throwing back the enemy.

Nobody was sure how you got these powers. You didn’t have a tragic backstory (beyond childhood trauma that was experienced by far too many people), you weren’t in some freak accident; nothing indicated that you would ever turn into this.

You, being a worshipper of the Greek deities, thought that perhaps it was a divine thing. Maybe something convinced a god or a goddess to bestow you with powers. The theory was ridiculous, but it was the only thing you could even think to come up with.

Getting close to the team wasn’t as easy as you would’ve hoped. It took a while for Steve to warm up to you, and even longer for Nat to start conversing with you openly. But, now, you were at least on good terms with everybody. You, Natasha, Steve, and Bucky were a small team within the team, which made you happy.

You and Nat would go out to brunch, you and Steve would sit around and sketch, and you and Bucky did everything together. He was easily your best friend. You used to think that he was quiet and held back, but it was the exact opposite when you got to know him. He was always making comments and joking around about whatever topic you were on about. Bucky made you laugh a lot more than you cared to admit.

Which brings us to the next point--you were deeply in love with your best friend. He just had a charm about him, and he cared about people, and he was friendly and funny, and have you seen those thighs? The man was a Greek god, and you were just another hopeless devotee.

You wouldn’t say anything, though (much to Steve and Nat’s dismay). It wasn’t that you couldn’t date him, but it was that you both just worked so well as friends. You were terrified to fuck that up. So much could go wrong, and you weren’t willing to risk that unless you were certain Bucky felt the same way.

Bucky, luckily, felt the same way. Yet, he also kept his mouth sealed about it. Even when it was blatantly obvious to everybody else, he chose to see it as you two just being friends. Steve and Natasha understood why; Bucky thought that he was a monster, even after all of the therapy and constant reassurance that he wasn’t. He believed that he didn’t deserve someone like you, who made him forget the past and live in the present. You were grounding to him, like a breath of fresh air.

The four of you were making cookies in the kitchen. It was Christmas, after all, and you wanted to do something privately before Tony’s big party tonight. Were any of you shocked that Tony was hosting another party? No. Were you happy about it? Also, no, but you supposed this was a better way to spend the holiday rather than out in the field. Besides that, this was your first Stark party.

Somehow, you’d managed to get out of the other two Tony had thrown this year. The first one, you played sick and snuck out with a friend from way back in the day. The second one, you were on a mission in Bulgaria. You and Nat managed a ten-minute facetime call with Bucky and Steve, and even got a quick moment with Sam and Wanda before they had to go.

And now, even though you wanted to just curl up under the blankets and put on a movie, you forced yourself to go to Stark’s Christmas party.

You had plenty of time to prepare for it since it was currently noon, and the party was at seven. Steve had suggested doing some baking for the team and some of the higher-ups of SHIELD, which sounded great at the time--now you just wanted another hour of sleep.

For the most part, you just mixed and decorated since baking wasn’t a strong suit. You stayed in the kitchen when Nat went to do her workout (“it’s a daily requirement, Nyx”), and you started decorating when Steve responded to a text from Tony.

“Are you ready for your first Stark party?” Bucky asked, leaning on the counter beside you.

“I feel like nothing can prepare me for one of his parties,” You laughed, adding more frosting to a piping bag.

“Whatcha wearing?”

“You tryna match or something?” You joked flirtingly. He rolls his eyes with a smile. “Nat picked it out, so I have no clue if it’s up to standard.”

“If Natasha has any say in anything, you’re prepared,” Bucky laughs. Fuck, that laugh. It was music to your ears.

“Don’t forget what you promised me,” You sang out as the oven went off. Bucky groans and pulls out some pecan tarts while you cut the tip of the icing bag.

“I can’t forget when you remind me every two minutes,” He jokes, setting the tray on the counter. He spins you around and places his hands on either side of you, trapping you in a way. Both of you knew that you could give him one look and he’d be asleep, but this was a position you certainly weren’t complaining about. “I owe you one dance, doll. I know,” He says, his voice softer than usual. It took everything in you not to reach forward and kiss him. But, of course, you reminded yourself why you couldn’t. It could ruin your friendship.

Instead, you stealthily dipped your finger in the frosting and then swiped it on the tip of his nose. Bucky had a look of shock, and then a wave of expectation. You couldn’t see either of them, though, because you were laughing your ass off. He backs away and grabs a cloth to wipe his face, and then you get back to work.

It was moments like those that you loved with Bucky. Sometimes he’d back away, and other times he’d tickle you until you couldn’t breathe; either way, it gave you serotonin.

Natasha finished her workout routine right as you finished frosting the cookies, and she helped you clean up. “Hope you don’t mind, but I gotta steal her for a bit,” She smirked, looking at Bucky.

“I don’t mind at all,” He says, trying to get some flour off of his black shirt. “I’ll see you soon, ladies,” He adds, giving that signature smile.

Natasha decides to get some food from a random diner on the other side of town. It was a light lunch but definitely needed. You had managed not to eat any of the batter (which was truly surprising). And then, once you got back to the tower, it was go time.

Nat went to her room to shower, so you did the same. She met you back in your room twenty minutes later with a towel wrapped around her and a makeup bag in hand. You put your wet hair back and started on the makeup.

It was a full beat, to be honest. Your skin looked like porcelain, and your eyes and lips were snatched. Nat went all out, too, opting to use a bold red instead of your mauve lipstick. Then, you did your hair in curls. They weren’t too tight, and they weren’t too loose. Tonight, you let your hair stay down rather than pinning it up. Next came the dress. Nat picked a flowy red dress for herself. It ended a few inches above her knees and had a halter top to it. She chose an a-line forest green dress for you. It had a deep neckline, and it shimmered, but it wasn’t sequin. It was like there were diamonds sewn into the fabric--it was unlike any dress you’ve seen. Your dress, like her’s, ended quite a few inches above the knee.

After sliding on your heels (and realizing you were half an hour late), you both took the elevator down to the party deck. It only took up one floor (typically Tony’s parties took four, but he kept it light for Christmas), but it was still set up so extravagantly.

“Let’s make a straight shot for the bar and see how many shots we can take before Steve and Bucky find us,” Nat said. It was less of a suggestion and more of a command, but you did it either way.

“Nat, you know I’m a lightweight,” You warned as you stood at the bar.

“Even more fun,” She smirked, waving down the bartender. The young man poured six shots to share between the two of you, and they were gone in seconds. Your goal was to keep up with Nat. And you did, but you were also feeling it by shot number six.

Steve found you guys first, asking what was going on. Natasha gestured to the empty shot glasses and water that you were sipping on, and he nodded his head in understanding.

“Where’s Bucky?” You asked.

“He’s in his room; he had a flare with his PTSD. He just texted me and said that he’d be down soon, though,” Steve answered. He whisked Natasha away after that, taking her to the dance floor.

You were concerned about Bucky, so you downed the water and hit the elevator. Tony made these so that they were faster than any elevator in New York, but the ascent to Bucky’s floor was maddeningly slow.

Passing your living area and heading to the only other door on the floor, you knocked. Bucky answered it a few seconds later, eyes widening at you.

“Doll, you look stunning,” He said.

You stepped into his room and shut the door, turning back to him. “What’s going on, Buck?” You asked him.

He sighs, knowing that he couldn’t keep anything from you. “I missed two days of my meds, so my PTSD and anxiety are flared.”

“Okay,” You told him. “Is it okay to touch you right now?” Bucky nods his head. How could he say no? Your arms around him grounded him in ways nothing else could. As much as he hated his nightmares and restlessness, he longed to have you in his bed and helping him sleep. Half of the time, you didn’t even need your powers to accomplish it.

You wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into you, gently laying your head on his chest. Both of you let out a sigh of relief and welcomed each other’s warmth. “I’m sorry,” He muttered.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart,” You replied. Bucky furrowed his eyebrows at the pet name (you never used them on him) but felt his cheeks heat up at the sound of it. “If you don’t wanna go down there, you don’t have to.”

“But I promised you that dance.”

“I’ll take a raincheck, Buck. Your health and wellbeing are infinitely more important than a dance.” Before he could counter, you speak again. “Wanna come with me to take my makeup off?”

“I have some wipes in here,” He says, releasing you from the hug. You follow him through the hallway and to the bathroom, where he pulls out an unopened pack of makeup wipes. “I keep them in here just in case you or Nat need one.”

“You’re so sweet, Buck,” You smile, taking a wipe from the package.

“I’ll grab some sweats and a shirt for you if you’d like me to,” He adds. “We can set up a movie or something.”

“That sounds perfect,” You say. Bucky goes across the hall into his bedroom, and you take off your makeup. When you’re done, you meet him in his room, where he’s scrolling through Netflix. Changing in front of Bucky was something you had done before, but it never stopped being awkward, especially when you needed his help to unzip your dress.

Once you were both ready, you got under the sheets. At first, you were just side by side, but it quickly turned into a full cuddle session. For once, you were the first to fall asleep.

The next morning, you and Bucky were called into Tony’s office.

“You two look splendid,” Tony quipped. You didn’t think twice about being in Bucky’s sweatpants and shirt, a cup of coffee in your hand and a scowl on your face.

“It’s five in the morning, Tony,” You snapped back. You weren’t an early riser compared to the rest of the team--it was something Steve repeatedly told you to work on. “What’s this about?”

“There’s a trade deal happening on the Solviski case,” Tony started. “And you two are the only ones here that speak Polish. Therefore, I’m sending you both out for recon and hit.”

“So what you’re saying is the biggest mission we’ve seen all year, where we need to exercise every facet of my training, is my first mission?” You asked. You were in disbelief. You hadn’t been on a single mission. The only thing that came close was when you stopped a bank robbery. And that wasn’t a mission--that was just poor timing for you and the robber.

“Yep,” Tony said. “Get suited up. There’ll be a quinjet ready in an hour. The mission should be two days tops.”

You and Bucky turned and went back to your rooms to get ready. You brushed your hair and teeth, packed your bags, and met your partner at the hangar. Once he got there, you both loaded up and took flight.

It was relatively easy, considering Bucky can put in the coordinates and place the flight on auto-pilot. So, when he did that, you sat back and tried to enjoy the ride. It was ten hours from New York to Poland.

You got a hotel room first. It was a damn good thing you were both fluent in Polish because the nerves started to kick in, and Bucky had to do most of the talking to get checked in.

“Okay, so we have to go to his party tonight--”

“Another party?” You groaned. Bucky laughs softly before continuing.

“We’re going undercover as Mr. Dominik Rovlov and his loving wife, Mrs. Katina Rovlov. We’ve been married for five years, and we need to make a deal with Solviski to get drugs for our small gang in western Russia. And we have a deal that he can’t refuse.”

“Which is?”

“20 million zlotych, or the equivalent of five million dollars,” Bucky answers. “Let’s hit the town,” He added.

“For what?”

“I didn’t bring a suit, and I’m assuming you didn’t bring a formal dress. Plus, you need to work out your nerves,” Bucky answers, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Why are you nervous?”

“It’s my first mission, and it’s high-profile. Mixed with the fact that Polish isn’t my native language--it’s like my fourth or fifth.”

“Hey, listen to me,” Bucky coos. “You’re Nyx. You’re like a Greek goddess. I wouldn’t mess with you; you’re powerful beyond words, doll.” Bucky always knew what to say and do when you were nervous. He knew you like the back of his hand. “You ready?”

“Sure?” You questioned. You were as ready as you were going to be. This was the easy part. All you needed to do was get a dress and get back here to prepare.

Bucky decided to split up when you got to town. He said that it’d be quicker since we only had two more hours to be at the party.

Once you got back to the hotel, you quickly changed into your dress while Bucky changed into his suit. The man was hot beyond belief.

“You look--wow,” Bucky smiled, running a hand through his hair.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, sweetheart,” You smirked. Bucky tied his hair up, slipped on his shoes, and then you got into the rental car. It was luxurious, but you didn’t care about the vehicle. Bucky had all of your attention.

Once you showed up at the party, Bucky parked a block away. He got out and opened your door for you like a gentleman.

“Okay. If something goes wrong--anything at all--you pull the pin,” He starts, referring to the codes you had made up in the hotel wrong. If you adjusted your earrings, it meant that something was off. It could be that you suspected that he was catching on to you, or anything along those lines. But if you pulled the pin out of your hair, it meant that a fight was going to break out any second, and you needed to be prepared. You weren’t horribly concerned with hand-to-hand combat or even knife-fighting; your powers were well adjusted to that. But if bullets were going to start flying, you didn’t know if you could put up a strong enough field to keep you and Bucky safe. “Nobody gets a single scratch; you got it?”

You nod your head in agreement. “Got it.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, taking a nervous breath. “Now, kiss me.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Kiss me. I need to know what to expect, so I’m not surprised in there.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You took a second to process the situation. Bucky was right--he usually was. This would eliminate both surprise and flooding emotions if you had to kiss in front of a crowd of people. It’s just that this was not how you expected your first kiss with Bucky to go.

You place a hand behind his neck and gently start to pull him down to you. He cups your face, leaning in agonizingly slowly. His lips flicker from your eyes to your lips, his mouth slightly parted, and if you didn’t know any better, this would be a dream-come-true.

Your lips finally meet, and your eyes flutter shut. This kiss felt right, even though it was a practice for a mission. Bucky’s lips were so soft and gentle, and he moved so smoothly that it didn’t let you think. His other hand, which previously held no position in this, came to rest on your waist.

You broke the kiss first, moving only an inch away from him. Your mind wandered back into your body, and the weight of what was happening around you hit.

Bucky had a small smile on his face for a second. “Okay, I got it.” You swallowed thickly and backed away from him, and you both walked the block to the entrance of the house.

“Dzień dobry (hello),” The guard at the front said. “Dla kogo jest rezerwacja (who is the reservation for)?”

“Dominik i Katina Rovlov,” Bucky said. The guard checks his list, sees the names, and lets us into the house. The house was extravagant. There was gold framing on hand-painted walls, a giant chandelier, and all the guests looked eloquent.

“To jest piękne (it’s beautiful),” You said, taking everything in.

“Nie tak piękna jak ty (not as beautiful as you),” Bucky responded, his eyes never leaving you. You smiled and looked up at him.

“Co powiesz na ten taniec (how about that dance)?” You asked. Bucky took your arm and led you to where the other couples were dancing, and you joined in smoothly.

“Solviski knows how to find us,” Bucky whispers. “The offer was already laid out; now it’s about waiting.”

You nodded your head but didn’t say a word, focused more on the dance than the mission. It was a bad idea to go on a mission with Bucky Barnes. He would be the death of you--or perhaps he’d be the life of you.

And you could’ve sworn Bucky was an actor in his youth. The way he looked at you right now, with such tenderness and warmth, like he would do absolutely anything for you, it looked like he was falling in love with you right before your eyes. It was intoxicating. You could get drunk off of one simple look from him, and that was perfectly fine by you.

“Jesteś poszukiwany w głównym biurze (you’re wanted in the main office),” A butler said, tapping Bucky on the shoulder. “Chodź za mną (follow me),” He commanded, nudging his head toward the upstairs.

Bucky and you followed in a single file line, with you in the back. You made as many observations as you could--escape routes, the number of people that were in any given area, the location of the guards and butlers. Anything to help if the plan went wrong.

Once the butler got to the door, he knocked in a code. A female guard on the other side opened the door, giving a curt nod before looking at you and Bucky. She wore a plain black mask that covered the lower half of her face. Her dark brown hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and her eyes were a piercing grey. She was intimidating to most, but to you, she was as innocent as a child.

She opened the door and let you in, standing in front of it once it was closed. “Cieszę się, że przyszedłeś (I’m glad you came),” The man behind the desk said. From the files you’d gotten from Tony, it was easy to tell that this man was Solviski. Your nerves wanted to scream at you, and you had to keep your mind focused on anything other than kill mode, but you managed to look stoic. “Miło cię poznać (it’s a pleasure to meet you),” He added, gesturing to the chairs in front of him.

“Przyjemność po naszej stronie,” You said with a light smile.

“Moja żona i ja nie mogliśmy się tego doczekać (my wife and I have been looking forward to this),” Bucky adds.

“Otrzymałem twoją ofertę (I received your offer),” Solviski starts, tapping a file on his desk. “Po prostu nie mogę odmówić (I simply can’t refuse).”

“Świetny (excellent),” You say, clapping your hands together. “Załatwmy to (let’s arrange it).”

Bucky pulls out the briefcase he had carried in, and sets it on the desk. He opens it to reveal the money that we “owe” him. As Solviski looks through it, Bucky wraps his arm around your shoulders and gives three quick taps--the symbol to enter phase two. The hit. This, in your opinion, would be the easy part.

“Przepraszam (pardon me),” You started. “Myślę, że właśnie zacząłem okres (I believe I just started my period),” You added, faking some sense of panic. You stood up and looked to the female guard, who (although rather neutral) looked sympathetic. “Czy możesz mi pokazać łazienkę (may you please show me the bathroom)?” You asked her sweetly.

“Czy potrzebujesz czegoś ode mnie (do you need anything from me)?” Bucky asked, like a good husband should. It wasn’t a part of the plan for him to be caring, but you supposed it was just who he was.

“Nie, dziękuję, kochanie (no, thank you, my love),” You responded with a small smile. Turning back to the female guard, you nod as a signal that you’re ready. She leads you down the hallway and to the guest bathroom, where she opens the door and holds it for you.

You feel absolutely horrible for doing this to her, but it has to be done for the mission. So, you use a force field to shove her into the bathroom, and then shut the door behind you both. “I’m sorry,” You mutter as the lunges at you. You grab her arms and twist them so they’re pinned behind her, then you turn her to look into the mirror. Your gaze focuses right into her eyes and you will your brain into kill-mode. She looks stunned as she has an aneurysm, falling to the ground.

Quickly, you grab her body and place it into the bathtub, shutting the curtain. It was a good thing you wore gloves to this event because even though the Avengers would be taking care of the legal matters, you still felt horrible about the evidence you left behind.

You opened the door and locked it from the inside, shutting it behind you as you left. This would buy more time to complete the hit and make your escape. You gave the knock that the guard had given before entering, and the second you had entered, you gave a major blast to Solviski.

He flew backwards and hit the wall behind him, immediately coming back with a gun drawn. You threw up a forcefield right as Bucky stood in front of you with his metal arm as his only defense. The bullet stopped in mid-air, suspended by the field. You let Solviski empty his clip, watching as he panicked more and more. Once he ran out of bullets, he went to phone for more guards, but you gave him the same look that you gave to the guard, and he was dead in seconds. The second you felt the life leave his body, you dropped your shield, letting the bullets fall to the ground.

Bucky turns back toward you, heaving a sigh of relief as he pulled you into a kiss. You stood shocked for a second, but then your brain caught up to what was happening. Bucky pulled you tightly to him, nearly moaning when your hand went to his hair to keep him in place.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” He said against your lips.

“I had it handled,” You argued, biting down on his lips gently. He let out a breathy laugh as you pulled away.

“We have five minutes before the butler does his routine check-in; we need to leave,” Bucky said. You nodded, reluctantly processing his words.

Bucky led you out of the room calmly in an attempt to play it cool. It was a quick exit, and an even quicker walk to the car. The two of you didn’t even stop for a breath when you were at the hotel. It was two minutes of throwing everything into your bag and speeding to the quinjet.

You felt like you could finally breathe the second the jet was in auto-pilot. Leaning back in your seat, you took one grounding breath before undoing your seatbelt and standing up. Bucky followed behind you, and you quietly changed back into your civilian clothes.

“Hey, we should probably talk about that,” Bucky said as he slid his shirt on.

“Yeah, we should,” You repeated. You sit down on one of the benches, and he takes a seat next to you. “Listen, I don’t know if you kiss everybody like that on their first mission, but--”

“I should’ve done it sooner,” Bucky blurts out. He notices your shocked expression and takes that at his opportunity to continue. “I’ve liked you for months, and I should’ve said something before we went on a mission.”

“You--did--Buck--I just can’t--huh?” You stammered. You take a second, collect your thoughts, and try to speak again. “Bucky, are you sure?” You asked. Wow, that was a dumb question. “I mean, aren’t you scared that we could ruin what we already have?”

“We could, or we could have something even better,” Bucky bartered. He had a point, and you truly never thought of it quite like that. “I wanna give us a shot, as long as you’re okay with that.”

You smiled and nodded your head at Bucky, making him smile even more. He leans down, cupping your face and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. This feeling was one you could get used to. Where you felt warm and fuzzy, as though you had taken five shots and were just starting to feel it hit.

They called you Nyx. The goddess of the night. But even the goddess of the darkness deserves a little light, right?

[true-blue-megamind]

Daylight and Dark Ch. 3 - Ares

Photo by Joe Waranont

Some Yuletide silliness and... At last!  Enter the villain!

CHAPTER RATING: Teen; FULL FICTION RATING: Explicit.   WARNINGS FOR  ENTIRE WORK: violence, sex, language, references to prior domestic abuse, and rock n’ roll! CHAPTER WARNINGS: brief description of violence.

There is nothing NSFW in this chapter, but it is a bit long, so I am adding a Click Here to Keep Reading link.  You can also read the entire entire fiction HERE.

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There were moments in life when Roxanne couldn't help but think about perspective: about how funny it was that a person could never clearly see the road to their destination until that destination had been reached. She'd felt that way one bitter winter morning, in her office, when she had suddenly realized that she was becoming one of those sentimental hack reporters she'd always hated. She'd felt that way on the long-ago windy spring afternoon when she had finally understood that she would never have feelings for Metro Man, and she'd felt it on the early summer day last year when she'd learned, to her own surprise, she was in love with his former nemesis. Roxanne had that same feeling tonight. Stepping out of the taxi Megamind had insisted on paying for she'd immediately been met by three brainbots, two of which immediately took charge of her small suitcase.  Greeting them with pats, she had walked the last block through the biting December chill with her unusual escort bowging at her heels.  The little cyborgs had darted away once their charge reached Megamind's invisible doorstep, probably to inform their master of her arrival. Now she stood alone and stared at a cross-stitched sampler, hung incongruously beside what appeared to be a solid wall, which read: "Lair Sweet Lair" in slightly crooked letters. What was he up to?

That September afternoon on the balcony, after the first night they'd made love, had been a turning point in Roxanne and Megamind's relationship. She had expected that, of course, but now that she had arrived at this still-mysterious milestone in her life, something in the back of her mind teased that it had been even more important than she'd realized. They had shared deep, personal sorrows, hidden from all other eyes, and an impenetrable glass wall had been removed. She realized, at this moment, that something undefinable had happened as well. Ever since that day, something had begun building between them, unnoticed and unspoken, creating a channel into which two spirits were poured and mingled. Try though she might, however, that something refused to slide into focus. It was both elating and terrifying, for Roxanne had not fully expected the cozy intensity that she and Megamind had found. How was it possible to feel so relaxed, so at home, around someone that being near him was like snuggling into a favorite sweater, while still feeling so powerfully and passionately attached to that same person that he made you antsy, strangely warm, and a little nervous? How was it even possible to feel simultaneously self-conscious and comfortable in the first place?

The oddity of those emotions was disconcerting enough, but worse still was the fact that Roxanne had realized that she no longer loved solitude, because solitude meant Megamind wasn't around.  True, she still enjoyed many of the same quiet hobbies— reading books, binging sci-fi movies, solving crossword puzzles—but now she was only happy if a certain blue alien was beside her, busily sketching design schematics for his latest invention, or pointing out in hilariously descriptive detail why a particular piece of film prop "space tech" wouldn't actually work at all.  She had always disdained those couples who seemed to be attached at the hip: the sort that showed up to every party together and skipped any function one of them couldn't attend. Now it seemed she was becoming half of one. Worst of all, she didn't mind. She liked it. She was sublimely happy with it.

What is wrong with me?

She and Megamind had fallen into an easy rhythm as serene and unquestioning as the deepest friendship, yet had retained all the fire and ardor of a new infatuation. A traitorous little voice in her head asked if this was the way people felt before they got married, moved to the suburbs, gained ten pounds, and started daydreaming about babies. She refused to listen, refused to even consider the possibility of leaving chic professionalism for matrimonial doom, but that same little voice reminded her that it wouldn't be so bad as long as it was with Megamind. Despite all her denials, Roxanne had to admit that something new had grown between herself and her favorite hero, inching up, bit by bit, undetected, until suddenly she noticed it was all around her. Small kindnesses, shared moments, camaraderie, and passion had all built into something beautiful, strange, and a little scary.

Which is what brought her to tonight and her current situation, as she stood shivering in the winter evening, looking at that foolish sampler and wondering why the sight of it set alarm bells ringing in her head. Megamind had invited her over, insisting that he had a Christmas gift that couldn't wait for Christmas, and she had not considered the oddity of the date until this moment.

Why now? Why tonight?

That was it. Roxanne's eyes widened with a realization that should have been obvious. Today was December 12th. Exactly eighteen years ago Margaret Ritchi, Roxanne's mother, had taken a turn too quickly, swerved on icy pavement, and ended her life. Although it wasn't unusual for Roxanne to visit her lover in the middle of the week, it was unlike Megamind to ask her over at a specific time, especially when she had just gotten back into town, tired after a business trip, which indicated that he probably had something planned. It would be exactly like him to researched old traffic incidents just so that he could invite her over to cheer her up on the anniversary of her mother's death.

The question was, was he just planning on distracting her from her memories, or did he have something more serious in mind?

"Miss Ritchi," Minion appeared through the hologram wall, less than two feet away from Roxanne. She had to crane her neck up to look into the fishy face set atop his six-foot-tall robotic body. "Miss Ritchi, if you please, could you come inside? He's been watching you on the monitor for ten minutes and he's starting to worry."

"Oh, I… Of course. I'm sorry Minion. I just—"

It was always odd watching a fish smile. "No apologies needed. Just come inside before you freeze."

He ushered her through with the wave of a metallic arm, and Roxanne stopped so suddenly that he nearly crashed into her as he followed.

"Oh, my…"

Garlands. The Evil Lair was strung with garlands of faux evergreen twigs, plastic holly, and red and gold ribbons. Multiple strings of colored lights, hung with no apparent order or plan in mind, blinked, chased, and sparkled in crisscrossing lines until the flashing dials and blinking buttons in the workroom looked like no more than additional decorations. In the middle of the yuletide chaos stood a massive Christmas tree, its top nearly lost in the shadows of the high ceiling. Brainbots hovered and buzzed around it, trimming it in a haphazard fashion that Roxanne suspected explained the random order of the rest of the decorations. Most of the items being hung on the tree were normal— glass balls, silvery snowflakes, diminutive, jolly Santas— but every now and again a brain bot added a shiny bit of wire or a large metal nut. Christmas carols were blaring from the nearby stereo.

"Roxanne! What do you think?" Megamind's happy voice startled her from her contemplation. He jumped down the last two industrial steps leading up to the second floor, his face glowing with good cheer and one arm sweeping out proudly to indicate the scene. Roxanne turned her eyes back to the seasonal décor and the happily buzzing robots. After the initial shock, it really wasn't so bad. In fact, it was almost cute, like the messy decorations of enthusiastic children.

"It's wonderful," she answered, turning back to her lover with a genuine smile.

He beamed at her. "I'm so glad you like it! And look," he added with a sly smile. "We've got rocket-toe!"

"Mistletoe, silly," Roxanne smiled, leaning up to give him a soft kiss.

"Rocket, missile, what does it matter? Missiles have rocket propulsion systems."

"Uh-huh," Roxanne's expression was all wry amusement.

"The early Soviet Vostok rockets were based on the R-7 ICBM," Megamind informed her. "So I can see no reason whatsoever why rocket-toe should be any less—"

"Megamind?"

"Hmmm?"

"It's still called Mistletoe."

"Potato, tomato, potato, cucumber," he answered with a teasing grin.

Roxanne laughed. "Cucumber? Really? Why cucumber?"

"Well, they both grow on vines. Yet tomatoes are technically fruits while cucumbers are vegetables."

Roxanne laughed. "I always thought that was kind of weird. I mean: why?"

"They're gourds."

"What?"

"Cucumbers. They're gourds."

"Megamind, I was talking about the tomatoes-are-fruits thing."

"Ah, well, botanically, they're ripened flower ovaries that contain seeds, and—"

"Sir—" interjected Minion.

"And this will really blow your mind: so are zucchinis!"

"Sir—"

"Think about it: cucumbers and zucchinis, so similar yet so different."

"Sir! Didn't you have something to show Miss Ritchi?"

"Oh! Of course!" his face lit up, and he grabbed Roxanne's hand. "Come up! You'll love this! Wait until you see the dining room!"

"Dining… But you don't have a—"

"We do now! Follow me!"

He pulled her bodily past the command room and back up the metal stairs, her surprise growing with every step. The conference room near the kitchen— which had never seemed to serve much purpose since any meetings involved only Megamind, Minion, and, during the last several months, Roxanne— had, indeed, been transformed into a cozy dining room. Another garland swagged across the doorway, and a dark wood table, set as if in expectation of a festive meal, displayed a centerpiece of holly and ribbons surrounding three crème-colored candles. Beside the industrial stairs leading to the third floor— their banisters also bedecked in Yuletide fashion— the plain bathroom that had once served the offices over the factory had been updated and expanded. It looked as if it belonged in a wealthy grandma's house— if Granny had decided to go Goth. A largely unused, cavernous storage space had been turned into a sitting room. It proudly boasted not only a black leather sofa, matching recliner, and built-in dark wood bookshelves stuffed with second-hand volumes, but also an old-fashioned pot-bellied stove that Roxanne was almost certain was against fire codes. In one corner, a more elegantly decorated Christmas tree— probably Minion's work— stood glittering with white lights and antique glass ornaments.

Even that wasn't the most shocking addition to the new living space, however.

"Megamind, there aren't any external walls here. How on earth did you put in windows?"

"Isn't it great?!" he threw himself into the chair, grabbed a remote control from a side pocket, and aimed it at the window. Instantly the view of Metro City Beach was replaced by a forested mountain range.

"It's absurdly simple, really: just a high-definition plasma monitor that I mounted behind framed glass and connected to video feeds that I've had set up in various locations! That conversation we had last autumn about your apartment windows gave me the idea. Look! If you don't like the view, you just change the scenery with a press of a button!"

He clicked the control a couple of more times, bringing up a snow-covered prairie, a quaint French village, and a tropical reef.

"Minion picked out the last one," he explained. "It also interfaces with the supercomputer, so you can use it for research, calls… Look, the frames retract for a better view!"  he demonstrated.  "Then you push this button, and... voila!" A holographic keyboard had appeared in midair above the remote.  Megamind set the device down, and, to Roxanne's astonishment, began typing.  A browser popped up on the "window," and he navigated to a video featuring winter scenery to the accompaniment of a Boston Pop's Christmas album.

"Megamind, that's really amazing," Roxanne managed. "All of this is, really... I mean, you've made it so—" she almost said "homey," but bit back the word and finished with: "comfortable."

"I'm glad to hear you say that!" There was something warm in his voice that both thrilled and frightened her. "Oh! Oh! Oh! But it gets even better!" He leaped up and tugged her out of the room. "Let me show you what we've done upstairs!"

The third floor, once comprised of large executive offices, was where Minion and Megamind slept. Roxanne had been there many times in the past weeks, though she was admittedly usually too preoccupied to give much attention to the décor.

Megamind's room had changed from a blacked-out bachelor pad to a stylishly Gothic bedchamber. The walls were a rich blue. A full suite of carved ebony furniture—bed, wardrobe, nightstand, and chest of drawers— had replaced the previous collection of mismatched thrift finds. The ornate four-poster sported a new satin coverlet set in hues of gray, black, and cobalt, and was piled with silky-looking ash-colored pillows that Roxanne suspected matched the sheets. An impressionist oil painting of a historic street at night— rendered almost entirely in blue shades and black shadows— and a large mirror both hung in antique silver frames. Two lamps and a small chandelier, all wrought iron, completed the picture. It belonged on the cover of Evil Lair and Garden. Or maybe as the set of a photoshoot for Bad Boys Weekly. That would be better. All it lacked was its sexy male occupant lounging on the covers. The thought made Roxanne shiver with delight.

Minion's room reminded her of a garden pool, all greens, browns, and teals.  Its bamboo furnishings and simple stone accents gave it a slightly Asian ambiance. The style was completely different from Megamind's Vampire Chic bedroom. Full of clean lines and abstract art, it looked more like a post-modern interior design catalog than a Goth culture magazine.

"He picked everything out himself," Megamind was saying. "You should have seen him, like a kid in a candy store! When I told him I wouldn't invade his privacy by bringing you to his room, he was utterly offended! He insisted that if I didn't show you he would never speak to me again. And that I could expect literally everything he cooked to be smothered in mayonnaise for at least a week!" The blue man made a show of shuddering in horror. Looking around, he added: "I should have let him redecorate years ago."

"I'm curious, why is there no bed?"

"Roxanne, he's a fish. He lives in a fishbowl."

The grin she gave him was three parts knowing and one part sly triumph. "And so he has a bedroom because….?"

Megamind blushed a little under his blue tint. "Well, I mean, you know..."

Cocking one arm to rest on her hip, Roxanne gently poked his chest with her other forefinger. "I always knew you were a big softy deep inside, even when you were a supervillain."

He spluttered. "That isn't… I am not… I was disgustingly horrifying! And..."

She laid a finger over his lips. "I always knew, and I love you for it." Smiling into his emerald eyes, she tilted her face up to give him a long, deep kiss. "Now, before you take me back to your new bedroom, tell me: what's that other door at the end of the hall?"

"That, well," He smiled and rubbed one ear, a nervous gesture she had come to adore. "That's my early Christmas present to you. Come have a look."

He took her hand gently this time, and when he pushed open the third door, Roxanne's mouth fell open.

"Ta-da!" he spun to face her, cloak billowing.  His tone was all bold showmanship as he swung his arms wide to encompass their surroundings, but Roxanne knew him well enough to recognize the uneasiness hidden behind the bravado.

She stared around wide-eyed at the vaguely familiar round room. Everything in it had been changed so completely that it took her a moment to recognize the place she had awoken during her final kidnapping. The industrial elevator and second floor had been removed. A spiral staircase now led to a cozy loft and catwalk lined with wooden bookcases. All of the equipment had been moved out, the domed walls and ceiling had been expertly plastered and painted, and, where there had once been a telescope with mechanical shutters, there were now two glass doors leading onto a private balcony overlooking Lake Michigan. It was… perfect. Wonderfully, frighteningly perfect. Her own style—too formal to be modern but too clean to be antique—her favorite colors—sage green, sky blue, and soft ivory with cheerful red accents.  The bookshelves—obviously custom-made to fit the curving walls—and few other pieces of furniture were warmly-stained oak that exactly matched the contents of her apartment.  There were several empty spaces where she was clearly intended to move in her things. Roxanne knew she should have been thrilled—all the work, care, and expense he'd put into this would be enough to make any one of those silly interns goofy with elation—but all she could feel was cold dread.

"I was thinking we could put your living room suite upstairs to make a reading nook! And look!" He grabbed another remote control from a bracket on the wall. "I've renovated the alligator pit!" With the push of a button, a round trap door—one the reporter remembered with something almost like fondness— opened, and a half-moon desk with a cushy office chair rose on a platform to click into place with the rest of the floor. "I've, ah, also included controls in a hidden wall panel. I know how you lose remotes." He paused expectantly. "So, what do you think?" His smile was starting to look a little forced around the edges.

"Wow, Megamind," she tried not to sound unhappy. His feelings could be so easily crushed, though he excelled at hiding it. "This is…unexpected..."

His face fell slightly, and she searched quickly for something more positive to say.

Deciding on gentle honesty, she added: "I mean, this is exactly the way I would have decorated it myself. I had no idea…"

"Really?" God, she hated the vulnerable hope in his eyes.

"It's beautiful. It is. And sweet. But…"

"But?" he urged uncertainly, nervously fiddling with one of the studs on his black leather gauntlet.

"It just… This… All of this… It's happening so fast." It sounded like a canned response even to her.

True to form, her blue-skinned lover tried to put on a brave face with humor. "Oh, come on, you already sleep here more than you do your own place. This would make everything easier."

"Megamind, this is serious. I'm not sure if I'm ready yet."

"If there's one thing I've learned from all my battles, it's that there are some things you'll never feel ready for, but if you really want it, you just have to jump in anyway."

"Okay, but this? We've never even discussed me moving in, and this is just one step away from being married, and… I just…" she sighed. "I love you. I do, but I've never lived with someone before, and I… I need a little time to think this over." she finished lamely. Seeing his unhappy face, she added: "I'm not necessarily saying no, just...not yet."

"But Roxanne—"

"This is a wonderful gesture, but it's so sudden. I just don't think I can."

"Of course you can. Please, Roxanne, Sweetheart, say yes. Stay here with me," his voice took on an almost pleading tone. "It doesn't have to feel like we're living together. That's why you have a separate bedroom. Whenever you need time to yourself, you know I'll always give it to you."

"Megamind, it's not—"

"This doesn't have to be any more than you want it to be."

"Megamind, please—"

"I'll never invade your privacy unless you want me to." He dropped his voice to a sultry purr. "And when I do, I'll invade it very, very well."

"That isn't what—"

"I promise I'll be the best roommate you've ever had. We share a bathroom," he indicated the door on the left-hand wall. "The plumbing was insufficient for two, but there is a double sink. And I can use the facilities downstairs if you need me to."

"That's really sweet, but it's not the issue. I'm not ready for this."

"Stay anyway."

"I can't"

He crossed his arms. "Can't, or won't?"

"Why are you being so pushy about this?! You never push! And now you're asking me to give up my apartment, change my life… Megamind, that's a huge decision!"

"You're right. I never push. I've never before asked you for anything unless it involved protecting this city. But you know what? I'm asking now. This is the only request I've ever made of you. So please, please do this for me."

"Damn it, Megamind, that is so unfair!" Hot tears stung Roxanne's eyes. "I can't! Not yet! I'm not ready! And it's really low of you to pull that never-asked-for-anything card!"

That hit a nerve. "I am NOT pulling a card, Roxanne! I'm being very, very honest!"

"I didn't mean… I just…"

"I'm offering you everything! My home! My privacy! A place in every aspect of my life! I am offering you—a reporter!—all my secrets! I'm offering my feelings, my time, my vulnerability! I'm pulling out my heart here, Roxanne, pulling it out and laying it at your feet! Don't pay me back by stomping on it!"

There was ringing silence for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Megamind said at last. "That was… It wasn't fair of me to say..." He drew in a deep breath. "I just really need you to stay here."

Roxanne swiped at her eyes in frustrated, jerky movements.

"I think I'd better go."

"No! Wait!" he grabbed her arm.

"Let go!" She demanded. He did and she stormed toward the door.

"Roxanne!" Megamind dodged around to block her path. "Roxanne, I'm sorry, but I can't let you leave yet.  Please listen to me! I know you're upset, but please let me explain!" He braced his back against the door as she tried to push past him. "This isn't just about me wanting you close! This is about your safety!"

"My… Oh, God, now you're starting with the helpless damsel crap?!" She tried to push past him again.  "Let me out!"

"I will, Roxanne, as soon as you hear what I have to tell you."

She glared at him.  "Let.  Me.  Out."

"Sweetheart, please..."

"Megamind, I mean it!" she yelled.  "You promised me!  You said no more real kidnappings!  You promised!  Let me out!"

The pain in his eyes was like a punch to Roxanne's heart, and that somehow made her temper burn even higher.

"You promised!" she said again, her voice rising nearly to a shriek.

"That's not what this is, Roxanne!  If you would just listen I wouldn't have to do this!  You think I like feeling like a monster?!"

"Then stop doing it!"

"I can't. Not when you're trying to run away rather than listen. Look, you're angry.  I don't pretend to know why, but I accept that you are," His voice was deliberately calm, emotion simmering underneath, but he held his ground, pressing his weight back harder when she scrabbled for the doorknob. She wanted to slap him. "But, Roxanne, I still need you to listen," Megamind lifted one hand like he meant to touch her cheek, but stopped himself, closing his fingers on thin air. "I know you can take care of yourself under normal circumstances, but things have changed. Something's happened, and now… Metrocity isn't safe for you anymore."

That stopped her in her tracks. "Megamind, what are you talking about?"

"I didn't want to bring this up until I could gather some more information." Fishing into his pocket, he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "I didn't want to worry you, not until I had a plan…"  He sighed. Reluctantly, Megamind handed over a folded letter.  His lover opened it to reveal oddly formal calligraphy.

My Dear Hesperos,

I have recently undertaken a business proposition in Metro City, which I understand is under your protection. In general, I applaud your intelligent planning and remarkable success in execution, but I wish you to understand that I cannot allow my operations to be jeopardized. Although your newfound love of justice and position as Defender of Metro City are both, to say the least, surprising, I shall not disparage your change in career. However, I believe that you also have seen enough of the world and society through the eyes of a villain to know that law and justice are, too often, completely disparate, and that sometimes an act of villainy is the only truly righteous course. Therefore I am sending this correspondence as both a professional courtesy and as an offer of peace.

Out of respect and remembered fondness for you, I desire to find a mutually beneficial compromise. It is therefore my hope that this communication will achieve two purposes. First, I wish to assure you that, as my plans currently stand, my activities within your city will neither be aimed against the populace at large nor intended to undermine the normal daily operations of the city itself. I will not, however, insult your intellect or my honor by claiming actions will be viewed, by the strictest interpretation of the law, as anything other than criminal. Nonetheless, be assured that it is my intention to complete my business quickly, discreetly, and without any more loss of life than is necessary. Second, I wish to cordially advise you not to attempt to dissuade me. I do not desire harm to come to you, or any dear to you, but I am a gentleman of business and must protect my interests. If you will consent to allow me to complete my task without interference, you will hardly notice my presence. However, if you take it upon yourself to trouble me, I am afraid I shall have to extract a dire price.

I would take no joy in harming a lovely young lady like Miss Ritchi, but accidents do happen, especially to those who oppose me.

Yours in Good Faith,

Ares Coeus

Roxanne felt slightly cold by the time she finished reading. To think that two minutes ago she'd been worried about whether Megamind wanted to become too serious!

But she hadn't become a star reporter by letting fear control her.  "Wow, okay.  So, this is... Not what I expected." She looked at him. "I'm sorry... I..."

"It's alright, Love.  And I understand. Believe me, it's thrown a wrench into my gears, too."

She nodded, forcing her mind to focus as panic tried once again to drown her natural spunk and curiosity.  "Ares? Like the god of war?" she managed a wry grin. "Really? That's a little dramatic."  Her attempt at a smile smile felt wrong, like it was stretched too tight.

Megamind didn't share her humor. "Yes, Sweetheart, like the Greek god of war."

Something about that name tugged at the depths of her mind. "I think... I think I remember hearing something about him now. Ares escaped Metro City Prison for the Criminally Insane when I was in the fourth grade. No one except you had ever done it before. No one except you has done it since. People were panicking. Some parents wouldn't let their kids go to school."  She paused.  "That was weird, now that I think about it.  They never did that when you escaped."

"I was not just the local supervillain but also a recognized super-genius.  My escaping was almost expected, even if they did everything they could to prevent it.  That was just another Tuesday.  But Ares' escape wasn't part of the show.  They couldn't tell themselves it was only because of my extreme brilliance and ingenuity; not when the escapee was another human.  That made it more... real."

Roxanne nodded and cleared her throat. "So… Hesperos. Is that you?"

"Yes. It was Ares' name for me. Hesperos Oldwin."

"Oldwin. That doesn't really fit the pattern. All the other names he chose sound Classical."

"You're right. It doesn't. Ares was obsessed with Greek myths, among other things—especially with both his namesake and with the story of the titan Cronos eating his own children, who were then reborn as gods—but the ancient Greeks didn't have a word for 'blue.'"

"Seriously?"

He made a brave attempt at a chuckle. "Clearly they didn't appreciate the finer things, at least where colors were concerned," His weak smile couldn't seem to hold onto his lips, and quickly fell away. He sighed. "Anyway, Ares gave me the name Hesperos Oldwin because it means Morning Star Blue Sky. The blue part is obvious—"

"Hmmm," she agreed

"And then, of course, my escape pod came from the stars and fell from the sky one morning."

"So he was, what? Your friend? Why is he threatening you?"

"I think I was the closest thing to a friend Ares ever had, but that wasn't very close. More like hero worship." At Roxanne's look, he grimaced slightly. "Remember, I was young and… less brilliant."

"But you liked him?"

"'Like' is too strong a word.  Ares was… strange, but he enjoyed my company when I was a boy because I was the only one who could keep up with his intellect, even beat him at chess, although I quickly learned that outsmarting him too much led him to abandon me for days on end.  He could be… disinterested, but more often he talked to me, sometimes for hours, when he wasn't locked in solitary confinement. I thought he was cool— smooth, sophisticated, well-spoken, smart, tough— and maybe I liked finding someone fairly close to my own age who didn't revile me for a change." He studied his black boots. "Maybe it made me feel special that I was the only other person he bothered naming."

Roxanne gently lifted his chin. "You were lonely.  I can't really blame you."

"I can."  Megamind sighed. "As I grew older I began to realize that some things about him were just… off. It wasn't until years afterward that I learned 'morning star' is also the meaning of the name Lucifer, as in the devil in most Abrahamic religions. By that time Ares was already gone, but I have the feeling the parallel wasn't an accident. The worst part is, I don't think he meant it as an insult."

"Okay, but how much of that is just a persona? You once said that the difference between a villain and a supervillain is presentation."

"Minion said that," he reminded her.

"It's still true."

"This is different."

"I don't mean he's necessarily a supervillain. You grew up in prison. You're better at analyzing criminal minds than any psychiatrist I've ever heard of. I've seen you figure people out so fast it's almost like mind-reading. I'm guessing Ares isn't his real name, so clearly he's putting on a show. How much is him and how much is just an act?"

"Oh, you don't understand!" Megamind threw up his hands and began pacing. "Ares does not play at evil insanity. He's the real deal! No one in that prison ever crossed him. Convicts, guards, even the warden feared him. Most people, even criminals, have limits… lines they won't cross, but Ares… He had no lines. He would be a perfectly nice and polite man until someone did something he didn't like—anything, a tone of voice, the wrong look—and then, in a flash, he could turn horrible and callous. He would get this cold smile on his face, and you knew sometime soon something truly terrible was going to happen to that person. And it never bothered him. Not even a little."

"You make him sound like a monster."

"He is."

Roxanne stood up and stopped his pacing with a hug. "No, Megamind. He's just a man."

With a sigh, Megamind gently pushed her away. "Roxanne," he looked her in the eye. "I was twelve when Ares was arrested. He was only a few years older than me, not quite a legal adult, but they sent him to a high-security facility for the criminally insane. Do you know why? When he found out his father was cheating on his mother, Ares murdered both the man and his mistress. And not in a crime of passion. He searched, learned, planned, and prepared. He found out about the spa resort his father often took his mistress to— an exclusive and very discreet place outside of town—"

Roxanne was starting to feel a little sick. "Oh my God… The Nelson Case. You knew that guy?"

"Yes. Ares' real name is Eric Nelson."

"I read about that trial for a paper when I was in college. Did he really kill them in the steam room?"

Megamind nodded. "He told me all about it. Bragged. The fake ID, the forged credentials, the Social Security System hack… And then he got a maintenance job at the spa resort. Even though he was rarely around guests, he was always in disguise, even changing his mannerisms and the way he walked… He learned how the steam system worked, created a bypass for the safety measures…." Megamind shuddered. "Roxanne, he literally steam broiled those people alive. And he watched. He stood there and he watched. His own father…" With a shake of his head, Megamind added: "He wasn't even sorry. Ares called himself a 'soldier of righteousness,' and insisted it was the legal system that was corrupt."

"How could he think that?"

"He's crazy. But he's also calculating, cold, and cruel. That makes him dangerous. When his twisted sense of honor and justice is incensed, he is capable of truly horrific things." Megamind sighed again. "After Ares escaped prison, he joined a paramilitary organization, but apparently his philosophies were too... extreme even for them. The last I heard, he was working as an assassin, but he only takes certain jobs that he feels are in line with his off-center views of right and wrong. He's so good at making his murders look like accidents that no one— not even in the criminal underworld— really knows what his kill count is. Even so, the sorts of 'accidents' he causes… Let's just say people don't hire Ares if they want the funeral to be open casket."

"Maybe he's not serious." Even to her, it sounded more like a plea than a suggestion. "What if he's just playing mind games with you?" Roxanne trailed off as she studied her lover's face.

"No. Ares isn't like other villains we've faced… like I was. This isn't something he does for fame, money, petty revenge, or for the simple reason that he's bored out of his skull and needs intellectual stimulation. He doesn't play games, or if he does, he plays for keeps."

It felt as if ice had replaced her spine. "And you really think he'll do it? That he'll find me?"

Green eyes met hers, and something in their depths made the ice expand to fill her stomach.

"Megamind?"

He glanced away again, like he couldn't bear to see her reaction. "Sweetheart, there were..." his throat bobbed.

"There were photographs enclosed with the letter," he answered quietly, as if lowering the tone of his words would somehow lessen their impact. "They were… One was of you standing just inside the glass doors of your balcony—"

"Oh my God." she breathed, moving to collapse into the desk chair.

"One was of you leaving the news station. The last was of you jogging in Hill Top Park." He finally met her gaze again. "Sweetheart… I'm sorry… He has already found you." He knelt beside her, turned the desk chair to face him, and took her hands in his, looking earnestly up at her. "I have to try to stop him. You know I do. I'm the good guy now. But I can't do that and watch your back at the same time. Not if we're apart. That's why I really, really need you to stay here."

Something in her vaguely understood that she should care about that, but it suddenly seemed as if her brain, overwhelmed with terror, had opted to turn itself off. Her heart, in contrast, was screaming and she felt like she might be physically ill. This, Roxanne decided distantly, must be what a panic attack felt like.

"What about… my job?"

"Telecommute."

Her laugh sounded bitter and wild in her own ears. "I'm an on-scene correspondent. I can't telecommute."

"Then take some time off," he offered gently. "We'll talk to the station, or have the officials contact them. This is little different from a witness protection program. And it's only temporary. They'll have to understand."

"And if they don't?"

"I'll make them."

Roxanne buried her face in her palms. She heard the tread of leather boots, the sighing swish of a cape, and deft hands began massaging her shoulders. Megamind's voice spoke gently behind her.

"Roxanne. Listen to me. It will be alright. Everything will be alright. We are going to get through this. He hasn't found this place, and I've made some alterations to ensure it stays that way."

"How do you know he hasn't found your hideout?" she asked between her fingers.  "You can't possibly know that."

"He hasn't.  Trust me.  His letter was sent to my fan mail post box. Ares likes keeping people off balance, making them feel he has the upper hand. If he had known where my Lair was, he would have found a way to deliver it directly here. He didn't, which means we're safe. I've been working on some enhancements for a while, but Minion and I have put in a lot of hours to finish them quickly. This entire building is now outfitted with a cloaking shield: a hard light hologram similar to what the holowatch produces. I took it down briefly when I saw you approach, and put it back up once you came in. Now all anyone will see is an empty, condemned building. No dome, no signs of life, nothing."

Turning the chair to face him, she suddenly threw her arms around Megamind and held him close.  He knelt to let her hide her face against his neck.  Like a child awakened from a bad dream, Roxanne buried herself in his warmth and breathed in the comfort of his scent.

"I really am sorry," her words were muffled by his skin. "I'm so very sorry."

He ran gentle hands up and down her arms.  "I am too."

"You shouldn't be."

"If you weren't with me, this never would have happened."

"No.  People assumed I dated Metro Man, and they would have assumed the same about us." 

"I should have realized sooner.  I should have done better."

"You're doing your best."

"We both are."

"I'm so sorry I yelled at you."

"You didn't know."

The moment of weakness passed, and Roxanne gathered herself, gluing pieces of broken confidence back together with spunky determination and brave humor.

"Yeah, well, you know, you could have told me this sooner and saved us the trouble of arguing," she jibed halfheartedly, her crooked smile appearing through tears.

His answering grin was weak, and a little sad. "I didn't want to have to tell you. Not now, not tonight. And I didn't want to ruin your holidays." His shoulders drooped slightly. "Tonight was supposed to be about cheering you up. I wanted to make you happy, not terrify the living daylights out of you."

"But I thought you liked terrifying me. Why else did you kidnap me all the time?"

"How else could I spend time with you? Besides, you were never truly scared of me. Annoyed, yes. Sometimes even angry, but never scared." He wrapped her in an embrace. "And I happen to think you're extremely sexy when you're angry."

That drew a tearful laugh from Roxanne. "Right, because, you know, that's one I've never heard before." Sighing, she looked back at her new bedroom. "Thank you for everything you've done, Megamind. If it's okay, I'll enlist the brainbots' help in moving my things tomorrow."

"I'll be glad to have them give you a hand, but we should do it late at night. That's when Ares… works. He'll be less likely to be watching your apartment."

They were silent for a moment.

"Well," Roxanne's voice held a tone of determined calm. "At least we have a plan."

He smiled. "We have a plan."

There was another pause.

"So..." casting around for something to say, Roxanne landed on: "how long has Ares been in Metro City, and what do we know so far?"

"Not much. I got the letter last Thursday, but Ares has been laying low.  I've had brainbots guarding you twenty-four-seven."

"I thought I saw more of them around than usual.  Wait," she looked around her room with new admiration. "You managed to get all of this pulled together in six days?  That's... Darling, that's beyond impressive! That's amazing!"

"Five days, six hours, and fifty-three minutes, to be precise," Megamind answered, standing up and managing another gray smile. "Incredibly Handsome Genius, remember? You'd be surprised what can be done with a little determination, a large budget, and thousands of tireless laborers."

"Large budget?"

"I have contracts with various companies for a cut of the profits from all Megamind merchandise sold, among other things."

"Seriously? That's not standard hero procedure, is it?"

"Being a good guy doesn't exactly pay well."

"Wayne never did that."

"Ha. Metro Man was adopted by a multi-billionaire. He has a trust fund big enough to support an entire third-world country, not to mention that all of his abilities are inborn. I, on the other hand, have supplies to buy, bills to pay, evil inventions to construct..."

"I thought they weren't evil any more?"

"Well, evil only to evildoers." His burgeoning grin faltered. "Roxanne, be honest, are you angry at me? For not telling you sooner? I know you always hated it when Metro Man treated you like a powerless victim, and I want you to know that isn't why I didn't tell you. I just wanted the brainbots to do a little reconnocense first. And, as I said, I wanted you to enjoy the holiday season before I threw this at you."

Drawing close to him, she cupped his cheek and looked sincerely into his face. "No. I'm not angry. Not now that I understand." She hugged him once more. "But from now on I need you to trust me enough to just tell me things. I can't be prepared if I don't know."

"It's a deal."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She pulled away enough to look into his eyes. "I'm sorry I doubted you."

He kissed her cheek. "I suppose it's possible I could have handled it a little better."

She finally managed a real grin. "Maybe a little." She held her hands a foot apart. "Like this much."

"Oh, come on, not that much." He moved her arms closer until her palms were only a couple of inches apart. "Maybe that much."

"This much," she spread her hands even wider.

His mouth quirked. "Now you're just being unreasonable."

Despite everything, they both laughed, releasing the tension in the air.

"I'm glad I'm here," Roxanne said.

"Me too." He held her, kissed her brow. "You'll be happy here, Sweetheart. I'll do everything I can… I want this to be comfortable, and good… You like having your own space, and that's fine, but I want you to know that this is your home, too. Always."

She felt herself smile, although the expression lacked its usual confident strength. He wasn't wrong. Sometimes Roxanne felt she practically lived in his hideout already. Well, the past few weeks had been an exception. While the blue hero had dealt with a plot by the Doom Syndicate and the usual holiday season uptick in thefts, Roxanne had been forced to travel, first covering a rare blizzard in the Upper Penninsula, then a meeting of the newly formed Michigan State Disability Caucus in Lansing, and finally attempts by members of the state legislature to conceal certain business interest's tax frauds. She and her lover had only been able to steal occasional dates during her brief returns home, and he had spent one night in a Lansing hotel with her. Even when life wasn't so busy, however, the reporter and her lover rarely spent the night at her apartment anymore. Not since Ms. Farley, a sweet but nosy elderly woman who lived next door, had caught Roxanne out in the hall one evening and invited her over for what had turned out the be the most awkwardly embarrassing cup of tea in all history.

"Listen, Dear," the old lady had said amicably after a few minutes of small talk. "Between you, me, and the lamppost, I just want to tell you that I am really very happy you and our hero have such a healthy and loving relationship, but— I really hate to bring it up— but maybe three in the morning is a little late for… nocturnal activities? And… well… you might just ask him to be a little more circumspect about his language? It's only that Len Paszek mentioned that his little boy asked last week what all those funny words the Defender kept shouting meant…"

Megamind had blushed fuchsia when she'd told him, and admitted that one of his new friends on the police force had laughingly informed him they had received no fewer than three noise complaints from other tenants in Roxanne's building.

"He seemed to think I needed to be congratulated?" the blue man had said uncertainly. "He kept slapping my back and saying I must be doing something right?"

Roxanne had felt her own cheeks burning. "I… um… yeah, that's a… pretty normal human male bonding ritual…"

"Humans are strange," Megamind had informed her.

They'd spent almost every night at the Lair ever since.

"Sir, Code C and C," Minion's voice crackled from the vicinity of his master's left hand, disrupting Roxanne's thoughts.

"Code what?" Megamind asked into his wrist.

"Cookies and cocoa!" Minion explained. "Come and get it while it's—No no no! That is not a toy! Drop it! Drop it right now!"

A sound suspiciously like breaking china echoed through the watch's speaker.

Megamind and Roxanne looked at each other and laughed again. It felt good. "I suppose we had better go downstairs while the cookies are still edible," the blue hero said. "You don't mind, do you, Roxanne? It's just that— well, you know— Minion has planned out this entire evening, and it really means a lot to him…" he trailed off as Roxanne gave him his favorite knowing smile.

"Thank you and Minion both for planning tonight. Of course I want to be a part of it." She sighed, looking down one more time at the disturbing letter. "Let's just take a step back. We can deal with this tomorrow. Besides," she brightened slightly. "I wouldn't miss Minion's home baking for anything."

Megamind chuckled again. "Be sure to tell him that." With a dramatic flourish, he swept his cloak behind one shoulder and offered her his arm. "Now, Miss Ritchi," he purred in that tone that always melted her down to her toes. "If you'll come with me, please, I fully intend to spend the next several hours cuddling by the stove, if only I could find a beautiful, intelligent woman to cuddle with."

A small, very grown-up and professional part of Roxanne hated that Megamind always knew how to make her blush. The rest of her, however, adored it.

"I think I can oblige," she answered, linking her arm through his.

He returned her smile and led her downstairs.

[roseofithaca]

Gingerbread

A sugary-sweet Hellstrop drabble written by a slightly drunk Rose.

“Okay, bud. You can open your eyes.”

Eleanor had lightly marched him from his office down a random path with his eyes closed. As much as Michael was certain he knew every speck of dirt in his neighbourhood well enough to be able to tell where he was, he had felt startlingly lost, unable to trust his demon senses to give him his bearings. He’d had no choice but to trust in Eleanor’s hand holding his.

And that was fine.

He suspected that Janet might have played a hand in dulling the sights and sounds around him to add to the surprise, which is confirmed when he finally opens his eyelids at Eleanor’s command. His jaw drops at what is before him.

“It’s-.”

“All for you, tallest hobo. I kept nagging you to build yourself a proper house or else I’d get one for you. So now you got a lifesize Gingerbread House.” She waves her hands at the two-story bronze-breaded walls and icing roof.

Michael gasps as he admires the candy cane beams, smoothing his palm over the red and white hard surface. The smell of freshy baked sweetness hits his nose, somehow unable to be detected before he opened his eyes.

“This is surprisingly sturdy! I mean I’m pretty sure that roof isn’t durable for harsh weather but, who cares, I get to control the weather!” He claps his hands, barely able to contain his joy, “What beyond Earth made you go for this design?”

“Well...I guess it doubles as a belated Christmas present.” She nudges her shoulder against his arm; “I saw that stupid grin on your face when I was wearing my giant shrimp slippers the other day. I asked Janet, she said you two were the ‘Mr and Not-Miss. Giftman’ who sent us those surprise gifts that one Christmas on Earth...and that you happened to pick out these ones for me.”

A blush fills his cheeks. 

“I just imagined you watching us on that rather creepy camera system of yours while we had that party...I know we don’t get Christmas here but seems sad you got to miss out and we didn’t even realise. So, here you go, dude. Do you like or should I send it to one of the cookie monster demons?”

He shakes his head, sniffing back some of the tears in his eyes. He clasps his hands together.

“Oh, it’s beautiful...Thank you, Eleanor, I...” He looks at her smiling up at him, a face of smart-ash sunshine, proud she was able to dupe him again; “Thank you so much, it’s beautiful.” He says as he keeps his eyes on her, not the house.

She reaches to take one of his hands, giving his fingers a squeeze.

“Well let’s go inside and decorate it then, the interior might be a bit boring...”

“Oh, are the guys all inside? Did you prepare a surprise Christmas party too?!”

Her smile fades to wide-eyed annoyance; “What?! Did you see them inside because Janet was supposed to block-.”

“No, no, no, it’s just...” He reaches up to thread his fingers through her hair, retrieving a shiny thread of silver; “You got tinsel in your hair.”

Fork, her expression reads before she smiles again. 

“Damn it, I thought I got it all.”

“I just assumed you were going for a new hairstyle. It suited you.” He compliments, his fingers still hovering rather too close to her head.

And yet she simply keeps smiling and leans into his touch.

“Oh, I also made this...” She hands him a card with a rather simple but vibrant drawing on it.

Is she trying to turn him into a sobbing wreck? Because it’s only sort of working.

It’s the first Christmas card he’s ever got....Even him and Janet forgot to exchange any, despite everything else they decorated their secret office with. The sketch is far cuter than his true form but he doesn’t correct her.

“Happy Christmas, you dumb demon.” She moves to stand on her tiptoes and kiss his cheek before pulling him into a hug.

“Happy Christmas, you filthy cockroach.” He whispers, resting his chin on her hair for a brief moment.

His hand rubs up her back, eternally grateful for the festive embrace he had wished he’d been able to give her that last Christmas, but seeing her face when she opened the present had been more than enough warm feels, and it much beat stuck in a room in another dimension holding her ticker tape. 

The hug is interrupted by a dangerous crumbling sound coming from the house.

“Oh, fork,” Eleanor pulls back; “We better get in there. I told Jason not to eat the load-bearing fudge!”

[collecting-stories]

Secret Santa - Connor Murphy

A/N: Getting some things out before Christmas comes. Ah! 

It’s Christmas time and the reader got Connor Murphy for secret Santa. 

-

“It’s secret Santa, it’s anonymous.” Jared pointed out, looking passed you toward the sign for the food court. It’d only been ten minutes since he parked the car and you walked inside but Panera was really starting to call to him.

“No, it’s supposed to be a surprise to the other person, it’s not anonymous.” You replied, ignoring his longing looks and starting to walk again, “What if we got each other? And then I give him his present and it’s shit and he’s gotten me something nice.”  

“Knowing him he’ll have forgotten until the day of and end up giving whoever he got a joint.” Jared pointed out. “Or Wednesday Addams will have a freak-out and then no gifts.”

“Can you just help me?”  

“Alright, alright. I gotta buy a present for Evan anyway.”  

“You got Evan?” You asked.  

“Unfortunately.” Jared had been tempted to the name back in Zoe’s jar and pick again, not exactly wanting to tackle buying a present for Evan. He would have preferred Alana or even Zoe, he could have just gotten off with an itunes giftcard and a cheesy card.  

“Please, Evan is easy.” You had gotten Evan last year and given him a forest guide, plus when the weather cleared the two of you had taken a trip to the state park together. Connor had not participated last year.  

“Connor is easy too, buy him a joint or lay on his bed naked...he’d probably be down for both.” It was no secret that you and Connor had a thing going on. If you could call awkward flirting and pinning over each other from a distance a thing.  

You thought that going away to college would make it harder to keep in touch with everyone but somehow with Connor, it had become easier. While Evan had opted for in-state (closer to Zoe he claimed but closer to his mom you were sure), you and Jared had both ended up out of state, at the same college. Connor was “taking a year off” and working and yet you were certain he spent more time in your dorm than your roommate did. He drove the four hours up on Friday nights and stayed until Sunday evening, you texted him constantly and had managed to convince him to make a snapchat (“So I can see your beautiful face every day”). But you were just friends. Or something along that line, he hadn’t talked about wanting more and you were afraid that if you mentioned it he would want less.  

“Jared!” You hissed, glaring at him.  

“You could lay on my bed naked.” He smiled cheekily, earning an eye roll from you.  

“Keep dreaming.”  

“What about money?” It was what he was thinking about getting Evan and at least if you gave Connor money too then he wouldn’t get flack from Alana about his gift being impersonal.

“I was thinking something more personal than that. You’re not helpful.”  

“I never said I would be. Besides I thought you got me and that’s why you wanted to go out.” Jared pointed out.  

“I needed a car. You have a car.” You replied, shrugging.  

“I can’t believe you used me for my car.”  

“Jared, focus, presents.”  

-

You weren’t surprised when Zoe told you that Connor would not be joining the party. He had, according to her, had a blow-out tantrum over something Larry had said earlier and had locked himself in his room. And despite her warning not to go upstairs you did anyway, carrying your giftbag with you. Willingly choosing to take your chances on Connor when you could easily stay downstairs with the rest of the party.  

You knocked on his closed bedroom door, listening for his inevitable ‘fuck off’.  

“What?” Connor shouted, a harsh tone to his voice.  

“Is it okay if I come in?”  

“Tell Zoe I’m not coming downstairs,” he yelled, “this whole thing is stupid.”  

You waited for a minute, mulling over whether you should go back downstairs before finally deciding to try one more time. “Connor?”

“Go away.”

“I’m not here to drag you downstairs Connor, I got your name for secret Santa so, stupid or not I have a present for you,” you held up the bag as proof even though he couldn’t see it.  

While you couldn’t hear the sigh that escaped his lips you could imagine it. “Come in.”

“So, it’s not much, but,” you handed over the present as you came in, standing awkwardly at the edge of his bed. He was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling and throwing a hackey-sac up in the air. He looked over at you, managing to catch the sac before it landed on his face and sat up, taking the gift bag.  

“I didn’t get you anything.” He mentioned, picking at tissue paper.  

“It’s not a big deal, I got your name so-“ You shrugged.  

“That’s what I mean. I got your name too.”  

“Just give me a joint or something, it’s really not that important. If you don’t wanna participate you don’t have to.” Zoe made everyone pick names at her friends-giving, which Connor also made himself scarce from. He didn’t want to be part of the secret Santa and he’d told her enough times that she should have known but she insisted that he take part.  

It didn’t matter to you that he hadn’t gotten you anything. Regardless of the idea, the intent of the tradition was not to receive. And besides, he had given you plenty. He stopped at Starbucks every Friday and brought you ridiculously overpriced lattes. He bought you packs of pens or notebooks or random things he found while stocking shelves at Target. He spent money on gas driving eight hours every weekend just to see you. No gift could top that.  

“Yeah but I still feel shitty about it now.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t get you a present?”

“I thought Zoe would tell you I wasn’t gonna do it.” He replied, fiddling with the tag, you’d written his name in pretty cursive.  

“Well too late for that, open your present, I wanna see if you like it.”

“Thought you said it wasn’t a big deal?”  

“It’s not.”

“Seems like it.” He mumbled, pulling different tissue-wrapped gifts out. It wasn’t much. A pair of socks with marijuana leaves on them, a dark grey sweater that looked warm and that Evan had weirdly known the right size for, a moleskine sketch-book and some watercolors that you’d spent way too much money on, and a set of Christmas themed scrunchies as a gag. He held up the pack of scrunchies, shaking them and watching the bells on the red one jingle.

There was a long pause, thoughtful even, as he looked over the presents that you had spent the weeks between Thanksgiving break and Christmas break mulling over. The green scrunchie in the pack was velvet and he tore the plastic binding them together so he could pull his hair back with that one. It was his favorite color and while he realized that it was just a stupid variety pack he recognized from a display at his Target, he knew there were two other packs as well. Maybe it was too much to be hopeful for but he sort of wished you had chosen that specific one because of the green.  

You were still standing there, waiting in silence. Watching him patiently. You gave the best gifts, he knew from experience. In third grade you made everyone in class ornaments out of intricately folded paper. You’d made him a snowflake and glittered the edges dark green and told him you hoped he liked it because you knew that was his favorite color. The paper was a page from your favorite book, you had mentioned when he attempted to make out as many words as he could. Tuck Everlasting, you said you’d been to the town where they filmed and it was right by the beach.  

He hadn’t said it then but he had thought about how fun it would be to go to the beach with you.

“Hold on,” Connor jumped up and went over to his desk. He made a show of rummaging through papers and drawers.  

“Connor,” You stayed in place but twisted your body to follow his movements.  

“I’ve got something I can give you.”  

“It’s really not a-“

“Not a big deal, I know, I know, just, just close your eyes.” He requested, turning back toward you.  

“Why?”  

“Just do it okay?”

You closed your eyes and waited for whatever might happen next. His footsteps were muffled by the carpet but you felt his hands on your upper arms. You could hear him breath and, as he leaned in, you realized you could feel his breath on your face. Just as you were about to open your eyes and ask what he was doing you felt his nose brush against yours and his lips press a kiss to yours. It wasn’t anything especially romantic or passionate. It was quick, a closed mouth kiss, just the ghost of the feeling of Connor’s mouth on yours and then he was gone. You opened your eyes and he was still holding your upper arms but he was looking at you a little more vulnerably than before.  

And you opened your mouth to say something intelligent but the only thing that came out was, “Oh, thank you.”

The nerves broke and Connor smiled, teeth and all, so close to laughter he let you go to cover his mouth, “did you just say thank you?”

“You said it was a present,” you dumbly replied, the heat of embarrassment warming your face.  

“No one says thank you after someone kisses them.”  

“Maybe they do if it’s a present.”  

“I don’t think so.” Connor teased. He undid his bun and then tied it back up, a nervous habit you’d picked up on from all the times he spent at your dorm.  

“Well next time I won’t say thank you.”  

“You might. I might be that good a kisser.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You tried for even an ounce of sass but all you could muster was the same tone of awe you’d had since he kissed you. He had kissed you and your whole body felt like it was tingling with a wonderful buzz of happiness.  

“Who do you have to stack me up against other than Evan?” He joked, sitting back on his bed. He was trying to play it cool, doing a better job than you, though he was still filled with nerves. Had he read the situation right? Did you feel the same way about him that he felt about you?

“Oh god, Zoe told you about that?” You paled at the thought of Connor knowing about that kiss. A dare Freshmen year of high school.  

“Jared.”

“That’s even worse!” You groaned.  

“It’s not so bad.” Connor replied, “didn’t turn me off the idea of kissing you.”

-

I’m finally posting again and it’s still whatever I want...sorry, its the most I can do for now. 

[toxoiddiamond]

T H E B A S I C S Given Name: Seong Ki-mun Nicknames: He briefly went by the name Kyle in middle school because he was tired of people teasing him about his “weird” name. But by the time he got to high school he didn’t care anymore and was back to going by his real name. (He also started purposely mispronouncing the names of anyone who made fun of his name– think A-a-ron.) Age: 30 Birthday: November 23rd Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius Birthplace: Anaheim, California Current Location: NYC, New York Speaks: English, Korean (fluently, but his family teases him about his “American accent” all the time) Dominant Hand: Right Education: He got his Associates Degree from LaGuardia Community College, then transferred to NYU and got his Bachelors in Arts & Sciences. He cheerfully refers to college as the most money he’s ever wasted in his life. Occupation: Teaching Assistant in the English department at CUNY Hunter College. He mostly assists with the Writing and Poetry classes, but also helps out with various Literature classes and acts as a substitute teacher within the department if a professor is out sick or anything. He sometimes ends up being treated more like a personal assistant– sent out for coffee or lunch, asked to type up notes or sort paperwork, but he doesn’t mind. Vehicle: Ki-mun’s aunt and uncle bought him a white 1998 Honda Prelude when he graduated from high school, and he still has it to this day. He doesn’t drive much since it’s so impractical in the city, but he likes having it around as an option for longer trips, road trips, etc. Worldly Possessions: Tons of random art supplies– pencils, charcoal, sketchbooks, clay, paints, brushes, etc. Notebooks completely filled with poetry (with many of the poems scribbled out). A fancy smart TV. A bunch of bean bag chairs. A super nice tablet (Ki-Mun may have a bit of an obsession with having the latest technology~). Tons of socks– like, way too many socks. He has an entire dresser drawer just for his socks. Pet(s): A super adorable calico munchkin kitty named Bugsy.

A P P E A R A N C E Height: He says 5’8”, but he’s closer to 5’7”. Hair: Dark black. Very full, soft and shiny. Always seems to fall perfectly into place even with the bare minimum of effort. He usually just puts a bit of pomade in it and tousles it. Facial Hair: His facial hair is very patchy, so he doesn’t bother growing it out. Eye Colour: Brown Skin Tone: A makeup artist friend of his, Andi, occasionally asks to put makeup on Ki-mun as practice (and also for fun) and has informed Ki-mun that his skin tone is “warm beige.” She also informed Ki-mun that he is an Autumn– Ki-mun doesn’t know what that means, but he likes to share it as a fun fact anytime he has to introduce himself to a group of students. Clothing: Ki-mun dresses like a pretty typical hipster, honestly. Skinny jeans, oversized sweaters, band tees, peacoats, cardigans, leather jackets, etc. He usually wears contacts, but occasionally wears big ol’ glasses. Distinguishing Marks: Does being adorable count as a distinguishing feature? Face Claim: Justin H Min

H E A L T H Physical Health: Not bad. Ki-mun was born HIV positive, but has been taking antiretroviral medications since he was a kid. At this point, his viral load is basically non-existent and he is considered to be in remission, with a very good prognosis. Because of the medication he takes, his immune system is not the best, and he is much more susceptible to getting sick as a result. During cold and flu season, Ki-mun will often wear a mask when he’s out in public– his aunt and uncle ingrained that habit in him from a young age (and also wore masks themselves so he wouldn’t feel like the odd one out). Physical Abilities/Limitations: He’s decent at almost anything to do with art, but is especially good at drawing with charcoal. He also likes doing speed-sketches, figure sketches, etc. He is also weirdly good at baseball, and plays on the New York City Metro Baseball Team as part of the NY Blacksox during the season (June through August). Also, he is great at tossing food directly into people’s mouths– popcorn, M&Ms, etc. He hardly ever misses. Addictions: Definitely caffeine, but no serious addictions. Allergies: He gets a mild rash when he eats or touches strawberries. Mental Health: It’s not horrible? It’s not great, but not horrible. As much as he denies it, Ki-mun is pretty lonely, partly because he has such a hard time letting anyone in. He’s not the most trusting person, and tends to keep people at arms’ length until he’s sure they can be trusted. At the moment, he only has one person in his life that he would actually consider a friend. Everyone else is just an acquaintance to him. Ki-mun has sort of “accepted” the idea that he may end up being alone forever, even though that’s not really what he wants.

H I S T O R Y Summary: Ki-mun was born in Anaheim, California, and got off to a pretty rough start. His mother had AIDS, and unfortunately, it was passed on to Ki-mun. He was fine and had no symptoms for a few months, but eventually began to get sick, though thanks to swift treatment, he recovered quickly and the HIV never progressed. As Ki-mun got older, his mother’s health began to deteriorate, until finally they moved in with Ki-mun’s aunt and uncle so they could help take care of her. She eventually was bedridden and had to stay in the hospital full time. One of Ki-mun’s earliest memories is of visiting his mother in the hospital for the last time, which is absolutely one of his worst memories. After his mother passed away, Ki-mun’s aunt and uncle took him in and raised him as one of their own children. They love him like crazy and were amazing parents to him, and Ki-mun has always been grateful to them– not only for raising him, but for loving him as much as they love their actual children and never making him feel like he mattered less. He had a relatively happy childhood in spite of everything. After high school, Ki-mun decided to move to New York– he wanted a change of pace, and wanted a chance to start over and reinvent himself. He found a job and began taking classes at the community college, managed to get his associate’s degree after a year and a half, and transferred to NYU to get his Bachelors. Ki-mun was a very dedicated student and didn’t spend a lot of time getting to know any of his fellow classmates, going to parties, making friends, etc. Still, he ended up being roped into a friend/study group, which is where he ended up meeting Spencer. Spencer was the first person that Ki-mun had serious feelings for. They were friends for the better part of two years, each attracted to the other but both too nervous to say anything. Finally, a week before graduation, Ki-mun got up the courage to confess how he felt, and they became an official couple for all of one day. Unfortunately, once Ki-mun explained to Spencer about his diagnosis, Spencer flew off the handle and accused Ki-mun of being deceptive, being a liar, being manipulative, etc. He told Ki-mun he was disgusting and to never contact him again, and that was that. Shortly after Ki-mun’s heart was smashed to pieces, he packed up everything he owned and moved to a new area of the city, wanting to put at least a little bit of distance between himself and his old friend group. It was here that he met Andi and became close friends with her, and also found a job at CUNY Hunter College. Although Ki-mun feels that his life is generally good and happy– he enjoys his job, has a really good friend and coworkers he likes, he has gotten really into his poetry lately and has been reading it at open mic nights– he can’t help but feel that something is missing from his life. Job History: He worked in his aunt and uncle’s restaurant from ages fifteen to eighteen. When he moved to New York, he did a little bit of job hopping before finally settling on a job at a grocery store– he stayed at that job until he graduated from college and took his job at CUNY Hunter. Fondest Memories: Despite the fact that his childhood was pretty rough at times, Ki-mun has a lot of great memories as well. Family trips to Korea, various birthdays, his graduation day. He also has fond memories of his job at the grocery store– as much as he didn’t enjoy the work, he really liked his coworkers. Plus, all the various spur-of-the-moment adventures Andi has dragged him into. Worst Experiences: His mother dying when he was four years old. Finally getting to be with the person he’d been hung up on for two years, only to be broken up with after less than a day.

C O M M U N I C A T I O N Speech Pace/Style: Sarcastic. Often sounds like he might be annoyed. He speaks in monotone with most people, even when he’s not in a bad mood, so people often think he’s angry or doesn’t like them (and to be fair, they are sometimes correct). If he’s talking to a friend, he’ll definitely be more animated and not so grumpy. And if, by chance, he’s talking to someone he’s attracted to (*coughDODGERcough*) then he’ll get a little tongue-tied, like he wants to flirt but he doesn’t really know how. Accent: American. When he speaks Korean, his American accent does come through a bit, something his family likes to tease him about. Favorite Phrases or Words: When he’s done listening to someone and wants them to stop talking to him/stop telling him a boring story, he will just say “cool” in the most monotone voice he can manage. It usually works. Usual Curse Words: He says “Jesus Christ” and “oh fuck” a lot.

P E R S O N A L I T Y, M I N D S E T, A N D B E L I E F S Personality Type: ISFP-T Sense of Humor: Definitely sarcastic and dry. He can be mean at times, but usually only if the person deserves it. As a result, Ki-mun has been described as “sassy” more than once. When he’s with people he actually likes, Ki-mun is a lot more lighthearted and not so sarcastic. Habits: Twists his lips a little when he’s thinking hard. Rolls his eyes when someone says something he thinks is dumb. Also rolls his eyes and sighs if he’s stuck in a conversation he really doesn’t want to have. When he’s reading his poetry out loud, he never looks up at the audience/whoever is listening because he’ll get too nervous if he sees everyone looking at him. Fears/Phobias: As much as he tries to act like he doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him, Ki-mun is very secretive about certain aspects of himself, and is very afraid of someone finding out more about him than he wants them to know. He can’t stand having his privacy invaded, and it honestly makes him feel sick to think of the wrong person knowing too much about him (he still hates that he ever let himself be so vulnerable with Spencer, and blames himself for not seeing more clearly what kind of person he was). Strengths: Ki-mun is very creative and has a knack for all kinds of art. Although it’s hard to get to know him, once he becomes friends with someone, he is fiercely loyal and would do anything for them. As a teacher/teaching assistant, he is exceptionally patient– much more so than in other aspects of his life. He is always happy to answer questions and help anyone student who needs it. Underneath his harsh exterior, Ki-mun is a kind person who just has trouble opening himself up to others. Flaws: He has built up a lot of walls around himself in an effort to try and keep himself from getting hurt. Every time he’s let those walls down, he’s ended up regretting it and building them back up even higher. Anyone who wants to get to know him has to be very determined. Ki-mun is also not the type of person to be nice just because social conventions say he should– if he doesn’t like someone, he won’t talk to them. If he thinks someone is boring, he will tell them so. He can’t stand small talk and will never willingly engage in it. This makes him a very difficult person to interact with. Hopes/Desires: He is not entirely sure what he wants to do with his life, but right now, he’s happy just working and exploring his options. All he knows is that he wants to keep writing poetry, possibly get some published, and keep working in a field that lets him play to his strengths. Wildest Fantasy: A cure for HIV/AIDS being found. Self-Esteem: It’s a little complicated. On some level, Ki-mun is confident in himself and proud of all he’s accomplished in his life. But at the same time, he has it in his head that he doesn’t deserve some of the things he wants, such as a romantic relationship, marriage, a family, etc. He kind of views himself as damaged goods, unfortunately. Religion: He was raised Protestant, and his family used to be fairly devout. He went to church every Sunday, they read scriptures and said a family prayer every night, etc. But the older the kids got, the less active in the church the entire family became. His parents and siblings are still casually religious, and Ki-mun has held on to certain aspects of it, but he doesn’t care about going to church or reading the bible or anything.

R A N D O M Sleeping Position: Usually on his stomach, occasionally on his back. Boxers or Briefs?: Briefs Day or Night?: He’s okay with both. He works during the day, which he likes, and in the late afternoon/evening he goes to the cafe and hangs out or reads his poetry. Top or Bottom?: Bottom, but he’s willing to switch if his partner wants to. Partying or Relaxing?: He likes parties, but he really prefers relaxing when it comes right down to it.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S Closest Friend: Andi is currently the only person Ki-mun would call a friend. He has a lot of acquaintances, but no one else that he’s really close to. Relationship History: He dated a couple of people in high school, but it was just puppy love and nothing serious. He had a couple of flings in college as well, just short-lived, purely physical relationships, and the only sexual encounters Ki-mun has ever had. And then there was Spencer. Ki-mun has not even been on a date since that whole debacle. Sexual Partners: Just the two guys Ki-mun had brief flings with. Thoughts About Sex: He enjoys it. He’s also pretty sure he’s never going to have it again, and has come to accept that.

P A R E N T S Name(s): His mother’s name was Seong Bo-ram. His aunt and uncle are named Park Min-ji and Park Kang-dae. Age(s): His mother passed away at the age of 28. His aunt is 57 and his uncle is 60. Social Standing: His mother was very well-liked, but was shunned by a lot of her friends after she not only became pregnant out of wedlock, but ended up contracting HIV. His aunt and uncle are well-respected in their community, and also well-off financially, firmly in the upper middle class. Occupation(s): His mom was a flight attendant. His aunt and uncle run a small Korean restaurant which is extremely popular– on weekends there’s often a line of people outside waiting to get in. Religion: Protestant-ish. Quality of Relationship With Their Children: Ki-mun’s mom loved him a ton– the reason she left him to her sister and brother-in-law is because she knew they would love Ki-mun as much as she did, and she was right. Ki-mun is still very close to his aunt and uncle. Living/Deceased: His mother is dead, but his aunt and uncle are alive.

S I B L I N G (S) Name(s): Park Kang-min,  Jang-mi (aka Jamie) Sanders, and Park Bo-ram (named after Ki-mun’s mother). Age(s): 33, 31, and 27. Social Standing: They’re all doing quite well in life and are upstanding members of society. Occupation(s): Kang-min is a commercial airline pilot, Jamie is currently a stay-at-home mom but plans to go back to work as an RN once her kids are a little older, and Bo-ram is a violinist with the California Symphony. Religion: They’re all sorta Protestant, but Jamie is the only one of them who still goes to church now and then. Quality of Relationship with Character: Even though they are technically Ki-mun’s cousins, they always refer to him as their brother. They’re all pretty close; they don’t talk all the time or anything, but when they do, they get along very well and have always enjoyed each other’s company. Living/Deceased: All living~

D A I L Y L I F E Living Arrangements: Ki-mun lives in a modest studio apartment fairly close to both his work and Central Park. The apartment is well-decorated, with a lived-in, cozy sort of look. He’s very comfortable where he is, not at all bothered by living in a small space, especially considering how much more expensive it would be to upgrade to a one-bedroom.

[oneandahalfwolf]

Benley for the ship meme!

send me a ship and i’ll tell you; [x]

who hogs the duvet?

iley is a total blanket hog. like literally with actual blankets but also like… ben is often her blanket. she will hog them too. not only is she the big spoon, she is a total koala.

who texts/rings to check how their day is going?

both. when they actually remember since the pair are often forgetful or hyper focused on something. however they actually remember to do that a lot more with each other than they would with other people. plus they are the only people on each other’s phones who’s texts and calls are programmed to ignore any do not disturb functions.

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts?

both can be rather creative when it comes to thinking of unique gifts that other people would never think of, let alone believe to be an appropriate or well received gift. in terms of actual manual creativity, that would probably lie with ben given they are so crafty. they'd make all manner of things for iley – artwork, metalwork, woodwork, etc. iley doesn’t back down and will do her best to make her own creative presents for the pup.

who gets up first in the morning?

it can depend on what kind of night the pair have had (what with insomnia, nightmares, and then just normal late nights), but generally iley is the first one to get up.

who suggests new things in bed?

well they’re relationship is entirely platonic, so new things in bed for them consists of new sheets or blankets. and iley would probably be the one to suggest changing up the décor – though ben would probably be the one to do it.

who cries at movies?

depends on the movie or what happened, but usually probably ben.

who gives unprompted massages?

given their general aversion to touch and chronic pain, ben’s more likely the one to give massages in general. iley would give unprompted hair pets and head scritches.

who fusses over the other when they’re sick?

both will fuss over each other, a lot. one has so much as a sniffle or cough the other will be fretting and worrying. however iley probably fusses over ben a little bit more, simply because the pup is immunocompromised and has had a lot of health issues since birth (no matter the verse), so she’s always worried something might turn out bad. obviously if the ‘sickness’ is something fatal, the pair are even more worried over the afflicted party and will do everything they can to find a cure.

who gets jealous easiest?

the pair’s relationship is so strong that they have no reason to be jealous and usually aren’t. however, iley can get jealous easily when other people take ben’s attention or get to soothe them/patch them up – even other pack members.

who has the most embarrassing taste in music?

both have a very eclectic taste in music – musical theatre, rock, grunge, metal, pop, foreign language; the list goes on – so they don’t really get embarrassed by it easily, since its all over the place.

who collects something unusual?

ben collects scraps of things (metal, fabric, pretty rocks, shards of gems) that they could maybe one day use in some sort of project. they also technically collect pencils, but that’s simply because they never throw any away, just throw them in a drawer when they get too short. iley collects notebooks and shells.

who takes the longest to get ready?

it depends on whether they care about their appearance or what they’d doing. often they take about the same time, no more than an hour – including showering and dressing.

who is the most tidy and organised?

ben. while they can both be scatter brained and leave stuff lying around, ben is much more likely to start putting everything into nice looking piles. at least their immediate area. they can’t begin work in chaos, though they often end up leaving a mess by the time they’re done. they’ll actually clean it up though. iley just leaves her stuff scattered everywhere.

who gets most excited about the holidays?

iley is the most outwardly excited usually, but ben’s probably more excited overall because usually they didn’t get to go on lots of holidays when they were younger (at least in verses where iley grew up with her wealthy parents).

who is the big spoon/little spoon?

iley is the big spoon and ben is the little spoon. that's just how it is. (occasionally they may switch but it’s usually just if iley really needs the comfort of being wrapped in ben’s arms.)

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports?

iley. don't get me wrong, they both get rather competitive – but iley is just… on a whole other plane.

who starts the most arguments?

they don’t really argue that much with each other, and if they do it usually stems from the other not taking proper care of themself.

who suggests that they buy a pet?

it doesn’t really come up as a suggestion, ben just keeps finding or attracting random stray animals who end up being allowed to stay.

what couple traditions they have?

they link pinkies a lot – iley’s left to ben’s right – as well as holding hands in general. in canon, but any verse really, iley rubs ben’s ears with her index finger and thumb, as well as generally running her hands through their hair. ben does forehead kisses, iley cheek kisses. pressing foreheads together. if not holding hands, iley likes to hold some part of ben’s clothing. ben braids and styles iley’s hair a lot. they also both trace each other’s scars a lot.

in terms of event traditions; every halloween they dress up and go trick or treating before watching hocus pocus. easter they binge all the chocolate they can manage. at christmas the house is supremely decked out and there’s always lots of presents under the tree. a more basic tradition is if the kids can’t sleep or one has a relapse, they will go to a 24 hour diner or fast food joint at 3am to just eat and talk until they’re spent.

what tv shows they watch together?

all of them. they tend to do everything together which extends to watching tv shows.  

what other couple they hang out with?

the only couple they know (other than their parents if they are alive) is missy and ori. also ben hanging out with wyn and iley also counts I guess.

how they spend time together as a couple?

doing anything and everything. they literally (usually) spend all of their time together, so there’s a lot of things they get through. for examples though – watch movies, play video games, go on drives or walks, eat at diners, simply enjoy each other’s presence. one thing they do a lot is sit in the same room while iley reads a book out loud and ben sketches designs for some sort of project.

who made the first move?

there wasn’t a first move to be made, their relationship kind of just happened and blossomed. they gravitated towards each other and their bond only grew.

who brings flowers home?

iley often finds really pretty flowers, either in the wild or at a shop, and brings them home.

who is the best cook?

ben, though usually not by much (though in some verses they’ll have learned a good number of recipes from their mama and took to it like a duck to water, since its simply another form of engineering/creating). however, iley could burn a boiled egg. this is why the kids eat out most of the time (in verses where they can afford it of course).

[coffeecomicsgalore]

25 Days of Adrien (+6 of Marinette)

Alya has the group wear superhero themed sweaters.

Ao3

Chapter 17 – Ugly Christmas Sweaters

“You guys really need to get a room.” Alya points at the kissing couple of the bench.

“Seriously, dudes. And I thought me and Alya were bad.” Nino added while nudging Alya in the arm.

Marinette pulled away from Adrien and smiled. “We just realized a few things over the last week that just made our relationship ten times stronger.”

“Plus, this is the only time I could really do this without the press being in my face.” Adrien had his Chat-like smile spread across his cheeks. “Last thing I need is my father to put a stop to this madness and make me bid her farewell.”

“Like that will ever happen.” Marinette added. The comment made them both giggle.

“Seriously, you two. I know romance is your thing, Adrien, but I never thought that red was your color.”  

Marinette noticed what Alya was teasing him about. The red lipstick she wore was now all over his lips which also helped bring out the rosiness of his cheeks. She licked her fingers to help rub the tint off his face which only led to Alya and Nino gagging over the motherly act.

Things really weren’t all that different after the reveal. A random akuma attack happened which allowed them to see how their new dynamic would work. They were worried that it would cause either worry on one side of the duo or extra flirting from the other. Actually, it only made their partnership grow so much stronger now that there were no secrets between them. And by the end of the week, their public displays of affection were the only part of their dynamic that got worse; but not in a bad way of course.

They still needed to maintain a level of secrecy while in their masks, and to do so they decided to keep their romantic affections to a minimum. Chat, of course, was not happy about it, but he understood the reasoning. But that did not stop the flood of pictures into the Ladyblog when the rare moments of kissing did happen. Alya was through the roof and believed her Christmas wish came true exclaiming that her ‘ship was finally sailing’.

Since this was the last full week of school before the holiday break, the school announced a week of fun activities. Each day, the classes were able to wear or do something that represented the activity of the day. Monday was cookie design day, Tuesday was wear a funny hat day, Wednesday was decorate your classroom day, Thursday was holiday color themed day, and today is wear an Ugly Christmas Sweater day.  

Alya came up with a plan to have the quad of friends wear a group themed ugly sweaters. With Alya being Alya, she thought it would be awesome if they went as the opposite counterparts of the superheroes. Alya would go with something Carapace themed while Nino went with something Rena Rouge themed. Marinette would go as something Chat Noir themed while Adrien went as something Ladybug themed. Adrien and Marinette quietly giggled at the thought, but ultimately agreed to the plan.

Of course, Marinette could not just go out and buy hers and Adrien’s sweaters. No. She just had to make them something specialized for them. Plus, how many people can say they can dress up as their superhero beaus and get away with it? Besides them, only Alya and Nino could claim that title. But that was their own little secret.

Marinette spent the rest of the week working on the designs. Adrien spent every day with her, watching her knit with pure joy, and lending his input on the handiwork when it was requested. It still felt like a dream that they would soon wake up from, believing it was a nightmare that made them regret never revealing themselves and hiding their secret to each other.  But it wasn’t. It was pure, real, and absolutely amazing.

That Friday, Adrien arrived to Marinette’s home to pick up his sweater. She had a few last-minute finishing touches to complete after he had left for the night, but she promised it would be finished by morning.

When he arrived in the Dupain-Cheng's bakery, Sabine scurried Adrien up the stairs with some croissants for breakfast. Marinette was already awake, excited to show off the final touches on her sweater before handing Adrien his.

Marinette answered Adrien’s knocks on her door with a large smile.  

“Good Morning, Chaton!”  

Adrien bowed to his cheerful princess. “Good Morning, M’Lady.”  

When he straightened back up, he sees Marinette wearing her sweater. He was floored. Marinette knitted an overly large black sweater that went down to her midthigh. She was wearing lime green leggings with shin high Chat Noir socks. Little bells hung on the socks where Chat’s bell would be. On the sweater itself, she knitted in a lime green tree with bells attached to the limbs in every direction and a had little white cats underneath the tree. She finished the look with her Chat Noir beanie that she made especially for Adrien. Her hair was down with curls peeping through the cap and even her makeup was done up with cat eye eyeliner and a green hue. She looked absolutely adorable.

“What do you think?” she said as she spun in circles.

“Paws-itively amazing, my princess.”

She covered her smile as she giggled. She took his hand to bring him into her home so they could enjoy the morning together before school.

“Go ahead and set the pastries down and I’ll go get your sweater.” Marinette said sweetly.

Adrien set out a plate with the delicious pastries as she walked back down her bedroom steps. “I hope you love it!”

Adrien grabbed the sweater from her hands and held it up. It was perfect. Marinette had knitted Adrien a red sweater that stopped at his hips. She had placed large black spots all over the sweater, each looking like an ornament with a small ribbon hanging from the tops of each. On some of the ornaments, little bells hung from the strings, while others remained plain. It wasn’t as adorable as Marinette’s Chat Noir themed sweater, but it worked well with their little group outfit.  

“Hold on! I have one more thing to add to yours.” She went and grabbed a shiny red present bow that was attached to a clip. She placed the clip on in his hair before kissing him on his lips. “Merry Christmas to me!” Adrien just laughed over the extra touch.

-----xoxox-----

Alya and Nino were already in class when Marinette and Adrien walked in. Nino, being the funny bro that he is, whistled at Adrien when he walked in.

“Hey hot stuff! Are you a present for me?”

“In your dreams, Nino. This present is all mine!” Marinette teased.  

Adrien blushed as red as his sweater. Marinette could only smile lovingly at her boyfriend, the cute bow on his head really sealed the deal.

Needing to say something back to his best friend, Adrien could only laugh at how short and unfestive his sweater was. “Nino, I thought it was supposed to be ugly? It actually looks kind of cute for a crop top.”

Nino shrugged his shoulders down with a sigh. “Man, there were no Rena Rouge looking ones in the men's department. Alya had to buy the only orange top from the woman’s department. And even with the biggest size, dude, the sweater is still too short.”  

Adrien patted his best friend in the back. “No worries Nino, you look just as hot in that outfit as I do.” Adrien winked at him making Alya and Marinette fall over laughing.

“Sunshine boy has got you there, Nino.” Alya reiterated. Alya’s outfit was a little better with a simple green turtleneck with black leggings. Around her neck was a shimmery garland necklace and she added these adorable green Christmas tree earrings. She wore brown knee-high boots and a green beanie to finish the look.

“Alya, looking great as ever.” Marinette cooed.

“Thanks girl, you don’t look too bad yourself.”

The rest of the class shuffled in all wearing festive and fun looking sweaters. Each one personalized with a fun design. Kim wore a sweater with a stocking sewed to it. He left candy in the stocking to keep him happy all day long. Max wore a white sweater with math problems that were piled on top of each other to look like a tree. Rose wore something pink and glittery. Sabrina even wore a sweater that had a kitty Christmas tree on it. Chloe and Lila were the only two to not dress up.

The best one was Nathaniel’s as he sketched an entire Christmas scene on his sweater and hand painted it with fabric paint. It came out absolutely amazing.  

The class enjoyed the day filled with games, a little bit of classwork, and ended the day with the last holiday party of their last year at lycée. It was bittersweet, but fun nonetheless, and Adrien couldn’t ask for a better time.

[europeanguy]

Gotta Gogh [Part 5.1: Sure Moments]

Pairing: Nadia x Maxwell

Words: 2k

Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergence, Crossovers, time jumps and POV changes… and uh… angst?

Maxwell is soaked to the bone.

He stands in the carpeted hallway – the downpour outside not showing any signs of stopping. Before knocking, he tries to catch his breath. And for a moment he just stands there – and all he could think about is her.

-

Maxwell tugs at the collar of his turtleneck. Bertrand insisted that he wear the itchy thing along with that new checkered suit – it made him look like a “proper nobleman”, apparently. He doesn’t know how this led to his older brother also talking him into getting his hair cut shorter now that he’s just one semester away from graduating. Bertrand had his way of relating two completely random things together, probably an inborn talent. He said it made Maxwell look more serious – and as usual, his brother is right. Even he wanted to take himself seriously for once.

He decides to finally come out of hiding in one of the many palace offices. There’s never a silent moment once he rejoins the party, so he savors a few minutes of this. Every December it was the same old tradition. The royal family would throw their annual Holiday Charity Gala – the usual party with the usual people trying to outdo each other’s donations. Maxwell had been attending ever since he can remember. The only thing that changed is the pressure to impress, now that it was just him and Bertrand trying to uphold the Beaumont name.

He wishes that Nadia could’ve been beside him.

The trip back from the Paris weekend was quick, the both of them asleep for the most of it. Neither talked about the kiss or where it left them. Not until a few days later when he was walking her back to her dorm and instinctively leaned in – the very action coming to him like second-nature. Nadia kissed him back under her door’s threshold and told him that We can’t do this again. To which he nodded in response, still a little dizzy in the head. Another few days after that, it was Nadia who broke their agreement. He almost found it comical how cliché their Talk after that went.

We’ll figure it out.

Tomorrow would be her last day – and they hardly had anything figured out. What happens the moment she boards that plane, how often they would talk if at all, how soon he could go visit. What changes over the years – how many it would take for them to drift apart and move on. He doesn’t even know why he’s bothering to show his face here in the first place, when he could be spending his last sure moments with her, even though he made a promise.

“Now hold on,” A hand lands on his shoulder, and some musky, flowery perfume fills his senses – and he shudders. Adelaide. He turns around the face the aging duchess. “I believe I was promised a dance?”

He laughs awkwardly, shifting a little further away. “I don’t see anyone dancing yet, Your Grace.”

She flashes him an oily smile, her skin stretching taut across her cheeks from constant upkeep. “Oh Maxwell, you’ve never been one to shy away from starting the party!”

“Later. I promise.” He forces a smile and a lie to placate the older woman. He desperately searches the ballroom for a familiar face to rescue him. Liam is preoccupied with a serious-looking conversation with even more serious-looking people, Leo is trying to soothe an upset Olivia in a far corner of the ballroom, and Drake is of course, nowhere to be found. The only other familiar circle of people were “friends” he no longer talks to. He only really found out what happened at the polo match after a lot of convincing and dessert-bribing. Neville catches his eye but quickly looks away, pretending to see through him. As if he wasn’t just a major member of their stupid club, his position now gladly replaced by Tariq.

Penelope stands in the same circle too, but she doesn’t look away. And Maxwell doesn’t know if he should be disappointed or relieved when she makes her way over to him and Adelaide. She smiles brightly at him, and for a moment he sees a glimmer of the girl he thought he knew. Then she curtsies at Adelaide, no doubt perfected with etiquette classes. The heavily beaded skirt of her royal blue gown swishes and sparkles under the lights.

“Well, this glass needs a refill,” Adelaide doesn’t bother to make her smile look genuine. “You two enjoy yourselves.”

Penelope smiles shyly up at him. “You look really handsome. Did you get a haircut?”

“I did, yeah,” Maxwell’s hand involuntarily reaches up to the back of his head. He racks his brain for a polite compliment to throw back at her. “You look pretty.”

“We kind of match…” She lightly touches the fabric of his navy turtleneck. Maxwell catches her hand and gently places it back on her side – her face immediately falls.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and waits for her to speak. No matter how things played out that day, in the end, he shouldn’t have left Nadia to fend for herself. Was it totally his fault to be so trusting of the people he grew up with? He didn’t expect that sort of treatment to come from them, let alone Penelope.

Penelope’s hands find the stiff tulle of her skirt, bunching it in her fists. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Maxwell nods. “Two months?”

“Will you spend Christmas here?”

“Bertrand has arranged for us to go home tomorrow.”

“Ahh… Ramsford.” Penelope looks wistful. “It’s beautiful there this time of year.”

If only Maxwell had the freedom to fully appreciate it, to do whatever he wanted like back then. But him and his brother have responsibilities now. Three years since everything fell on Bertrand’s shoulders. It’s about time Maxwell bore some of the load too, and his brother isn’t wasting any time. His winter break would be spent neck-deep in tedious meetings with fund managers, investment portfolios, smile and shake the hands of the many people that rely on him now; truly show everyone that even though he’s the spare, he’s completely committed to Ramsford.

“It is.” He lies, wanting nothing more than to run off to New York. Or anywhere for that matter.

A familiar melody comes on from the string quartet and everyone starts pairing off on the dance floor. He’s almost relieved that it broke the awkward moment, but then Penelope looks at him expectantly. A part of Maxwell wants to be a gentleman and at least take Penelope for one dance – for old time’s sake since they were always the designated partners. It was a running “joke” between their families that they would be married someday. It wasn’t too far-fetched. People in their circles rarely married for love.

“It’s my favorite place in Cordonia.” Penelope says quietly, turning away to watch the dancing couples once she realizes that Maxwell isn’t going to ask anytime soon. She stops fiddling with the material of her skirt, smoothing it self-consciously and then turns to him again. “Is she here?”

“No. She leaves tomorrow too.” Nadia had repeatedly made him promise not to see her off.

“I’m sorry about the way I acted, Max.” Penelope fiddles with her silver and diamond bracelet. “Will you tell her I’m sorry?”

Maxwell tries to smile – more sad than angry. “Sure.”

He remembers dancing with Nadia under the moonlight on the cobblestone street like two people so into each other that they didn’t care about looking stupid. That night when he danced with Nadia on the street. He didn’t see people looking in either adoration or judgement, he saw Nadia. He would give anything to be in that moment than be here right now.

In the distance, Adelaide catches his eye and starts to make her way towards him like a woman on a mission.

“I have to go,” He declares, heart suddenly racing. “I’m sorry.” I can’t keep my promise.

Penelope catches the sleeve of his jacket, her big blue eyes searching his own. “Where are you going?”

“Out of here.” Maxwell gently pulls away. And with that he turns – flooded with a sense of urgency to catch those last sure moments.

-

Welcome home,

The University of Cordonia promised Nadia a home away from home – and in a way she found it. But not in the university and its very welcoming community. She found it in the museum and in the aloof museum custodian, Otis. Most importantly she found it in Maxwell Beaumont.

She looks at the Cordonian Ruby painting with a strange sense of melancholy. This particular painting had gotten her in so much trouble. Only just a few months ago, she had almost destroyed one of the country’s national treasures by taking it to the back for restoration along with some other “wall space-occupying” paintings – according to the owner’s representative. Anything that didn’t hold too much history or cultural significance gets stashed in the back rooms until the restoration expert arrives. Needless to say, the artist came running out of the back with what’s left of his thinning white hair mussed and his glasses crooked atop his nose, screaming at Nadia in rapid-fire Greek as Otis watched in silent amusement.

Nadia sighs and steps away from the painting, deciding that she should stop reminiscing and get on with the inevitable goodbyes. She can’t decide if it’s a good thing that she barely made any friends – less people to say goodbye to. Or maybe it’s a lot worse that she met just one, someone so amazing and genuine that she connected so much with that just the thought of leaving hurts.

She watches the dull pink and orange sky through the big windows – it would rain soon. She had hoped for a clear night to see the stars from here. From Cordonia. It’s always too bright in New York City to look at the stars properly. Sighing, she packs her stuff from the receptionist’s desk – leaving a soft leather cover sketchbook on the table. Hopefully Otis would love the book, filled from front to back with sketches of museum guests, animals, other random things. She looks up to find the old man lingering under an archway, pretend-cleaning a carved moulding. Nadia hoped she was imagining the distant loneliness in his air – she did NOT want to cry right now.

Five o’clock.

“Hey Otis, I’m going home!” Nadia manages a big smile as she runs up to him, hiking her backpack up her shoulders. “I left something at my desk for you, so um…” Nadia mostly did it as a sign of thanks – but in a selfish way it also made her feel like she wouldn’t be some footprint in the sand, fading away from their memories as the waves slowly wash her away.

Otis nods, not meeting her eyes. She tries to ignore the fact that his eyes look shiny. He takes a moment to reply.

“Thank you.”

That’s all it takes for Nadia’s tears to start. She sobs, feeling ridiculous and wipes her tears with her sleeve. “Sorry… I’m sorry.” She laughs, sniffing.

Otis’ face breaks into an unexpectedly smile. He almost looked grandfatherly. It catches Nadia off-guard – today being the first time she really saw him smile.

“Go,” He pats her shoulder and nods towards the door.

Nadia nods, smiling and feeling lighter. “Okay. Goodbye.” Still, the hard part isn’t over yet.

She doesn’t go straight home. The walk from the museum to the main library (the only place with a half-decent phone signal) is a transition from elegant and historical to dreary and dusty – but just as empty now that finals are over. Faded tapestries and pictures of alumni line the dark paneled walls, the librarian sat behind a heavy and ornate front desk – looking thoroughly bored. Nadia nods at her in an attempt to be friendly and she is met by a bored expression, her mouth pressed in a thin line.

Nadia isn’t surprised to find there are absolutely zero students in the main hall. Once she reaches a row of desks far enough inside to be out of the librarian’s ear shot, she drops on a random seat, feeling tired all of a sudden. Quickly, she calls Kai.

-

Raydan L. Hall is an old building – its age made obvious through the weathered bricks and the dust settled in the cracks. The foyer’s chandelier blinks once in a while, the hallways usually desolate. Maxwell has never seen it so full of people, a constant flow of students moving in and out of its doors fully packed to go home for the break. A few faces light up in recognition as he passes them, scanning each one for the one girl he was looking for.

And he is soaked to the bone.

He stands in the carpeted hallway – the downpour outside not showing any signs of stopping. The sounds of his clothes dripping on the floor feels embarrassingly loud, but he doesn’t care because on the other side of that door is Nadia Park. Before knocking, he tries to catch his breath. And for a moment he just stands there, shivering – and all he could think about is her.

How funny life works. Because of course it had to rain so hard, nonstop. Of course the car had to get stuck in traffic – so he had to run the last few blocks.

Deep breaths. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous, but he knocks.

No answer.

  End of finale pt. 1

 Useless factoids that I like to put in under each chapter bc I’m a bad writer who can’t figure out how to insert these in without it beinFUN FACTS

Well, hair we are (I hate myself):

-        In my first drawing (the very drawing that spurred this on) Maxwell has wild, curly-ish hair. It’s definitely long and a little unkempt – the most that he does to it is brush it back with his fingers or tie it in a little bun if he doesn’t want it in the way. His new, shorter hair is closer to what it is in canon.

-        I honestly just didn’t want to draw that hair again lmao (since I’m planning on putting out more drawings WHOOPS although I would have to draw it again for chapters before this one, huh? Dammit.)

-        So yes. This younger version of Maxwell has messy, kinda long and curly hair. Which I think really fits.

Squids and Narwhals:

-        In my head, maybe Penelope and Maxwell’s parents would have pushed them together. Their house symbols are both sea creatures… and man… idk just… humor this random headcanon of mine okay.

More excuses:

-        So there you go, the Cordonian Ruby Incident. Don’t think about this too much HAHAHA

-        I wasn’t gonna break this in half but I decided to lump in part 2 with the epilogue. I felt like it would be too much to take in, so… welp!

tag list: @littlecrookedheart, @femmeshep, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @zaffrenotes, @teamtomsato, @pixieferry

A/N: guys I just wanna say thank you so so so much for your patience!! here it is, it’s DONE!!

[swingsetboys]

How about Wonah, 1-25 (you don’t actually have to do this, I’m joking, though if you want to do it, be my guest lol.)

well,,,, it took me a million years but ofc I did it (this is for you anon)

a date an aquarium

already answered!

a date at an art museum

also answered!

a date at a coffee shop

why do I feel like they’re the personification of a coffee shop au ksksns

walker doodles on their cups!! just little doodles on his at first, but jonah complimented them when he noticed him doing it so walker started doodling/writing notes on jonah’s too

a date at a book shop

WALKER SHOWS JONAH POETRY BOOKS we’ve all seen this boy there is no way he isn’t into beat poetry or something he shows him all of his favorites and it turns out jonah’s actually into them too! he admires how good these people can be at expressing their feelings in such a creative way (and lowkey tries to write some himself, but he doesn’t show walker until he’s sure he made something good)

a date at a hat shop

jonah doesn’t seem like a dress-up person (see: the ren faire episode shdhs) so he just takes photos of walker striking poses and making dumb faces in them

a date at the movies during a good movie

POPCORN lots of shared popcorn!! and other snacks. honestly they almost buy out the whole concession stand

and I feel like they’re both silent movie watchers, so it’s just intense staring at the screen with their arms wrapped around each other until the end when they talk about it for hours

a date at the movies during a bad movie

answered!

a date at a drive-in movie

also answered!

a date at a local park

walker packs a picnic basket full of their favorite lunches and his sketch book! he likes to sketch random people in the park, and jonah will watch him draw while making up ridiculous stories about them

and!!! jonah brings his guitar. he’ll play random tunes throughout their date, and eventually the two of them start improvising a song (it’s ridiculous and horrible, but they have a good time doing it anyway)

a date at a zoo

listen jonah wants to see the otters as soon as humanly possible. he’s not gonna rest until he sees one.

so they go there first, and he takes SO MANY PHOTOS of the lil guys bein cute and walker just feels his heart melt watching jonah look so happy (he almost cried when two otters held hands so walker had to hug him for a few minutes)

a date at home with parents

we don’t know a thing about either of their parents so I’m spitballing here: walker has very supportive and encouraging parents that just adore jonah. they think he’s the cutest thing ever and they admire how much he tries to impress them

a date at home alone

walker shows jonah his room that’s covered in art that he loves!! paintings and drawings all from his favorite artists, concept art for animated films, and album art!!

and then they try to watch movies on his couch but jonah falls asleep on him like twenty minutes into the first one

a date at a school dance

answered!

a date in a forest

I can see this going two ways, one being walker taking jonah to his favorite scenic spots in the forest (the creek during the spring a few days after it’s rained, a big clearing during the fall when the leaves are red and orange, a pond during winter that’s been frozen over so they walk on it)

the other way being jonah taking walker to the place where he practices throwing frisbees

a date in a cave full of crystals

I feel like most of these involve walker drawing something but like,, you know he would be sketching these things (and he’d take pictures of jonah holding them to draw in charcoal later. he gets one of him holding a green one that matches his eye color so he colors those parts in)

and they’d bring some back for andi!! they don’t know it but as soon as she sees the crystals she gets the idea to make the two of them matching bracelets with them for christmas 

a date the beach at night

listen I barely know what to do at a beach during the day buT WHAT DO YOU DO AT NIGHT

a date at the beach during the day

they build sand castles together!!

and I just… feel like jonah goes through a surfer phase. you can see it in his eyes.

a date at the boardwalk

w,,alk??? I’ve never been to one forgive me

a date during an after-school club

let’s pretend that they go to the same school for a minute ahshhs they would be goofing off the whole time, whispering to each other, passing notes, and giving each other Looks™

a date at an amusement park

mayhaps… a double date with tyrus?

they ride Every Ride (and their favorites more than once, obviously) and play so many games, competing to see who can win the other more prizes

and also ferris wheel!!!!!!!! ferris wheel!!!!!

a date at an orchestra concert

I feel like that’s one of those dates that they both thought the other would be into (because walker = art and jonah = music) but halfway through the concert they both look at each other like,, can we leave

so they bail and end up at the spoon instead!

a date at a popular band concert

answered!

a date a pizza parlor

these boys sit on the same side of the booth with their arms around each other all affectionate and gross

and honestly I feel like this would be a date where they’d invite other friends in couples?? like tyrus, muffy, and ambi just to have a big ol’ pizza party together

a date at a soda fountain

a what

a date at a magic show

why do I feel like they both adore stage magic hdhsjhsns

they’d be living it up dude!! holding hands and having a great time watching the magician do their thing

later on they buy some amateur magician kits and try to replicate the tricks they saw during the show together. needless to say they don’t do great the first time around

[aion-rsa]

MST3K Turkey Day: The Long History of Mystery Science Theater 3000 and Thanksgiving

https://ift.tt/3l4KHUl

Sometimes a long-running TV show finds itself linked to a certain holiday. Community had Christmas. The Simpsons has Halloween. Brooklyn 99 had Halloween, then changed it to Cinco de Mayo for scheduling reasons. Saturday Night Live has…Election Day, I guess? I probably should have thought this through a bit more.

While Mystery Science Theater 3000 has done a handful of Christmas-themed episodes (one major one per host, at least), the series has a much deeper relationship with Thanksgiving. Turkey Day is essentially its legacy. It started on Thanksgiving and it always comes back to that one Thursday in late November, whether the show is on the air or not.

Back in 1988, Joel Hodgson created a new show idea inspired by a random image from the liner notes of an Elton John album, wherein a couple of silhouettes sit in front of a movie screen. He and some robot puppets would watch bad movies and crack jokes. While the 15-minute proof of concept footage of him watching The Green Slime never made it to air, the world would be introduced to Mystery Science Theater 3000 on November 24 as he and Crow (here voiced by J. Elvis Weinstein) sat through Invaders from the Deep.

Well, only a very small piece of the world would be introduced. The show aired on KTMA-TV in Minnesota. Regardless, the first time MST3K hit the airwaves, it was Thanksgiving night.

The episode – and really the entire KTMA-TV season – wasn’t great. The idea was there, but they hadn’t come close to hitting its potential. It still found an audience and about a year later, it was airing on the Comedy Channel. That first season, which had Joel Hodgson as Joel Robinson, Weinstein as Tom Servo, and Trace Beaulieu as Crow T. Robot, was also pretty rough. It wasn’t until the second and third seasons (where Kevin Murphy had taken over the Servo role) that MST3K really started to find its footing.

On November 28, 1991, to celebrate MST3K’s third anniversary, Comedy Central put together the very first Turkey Day marathon. Starting at midnight and ending at 6 AM on the following day (!), they would air fifteen episodes in a row, accompanied by various Thanksgiving-based bumpers and sketches.

Keep in mind, this was long before the days of The Daily Show and South Park, so Comedy Central’s pool of popular shows wasn’t the deepest. This was back when you’d turn on the channel in the middle of the day and see episodes of Soap or some ’80s movie about a mime joining a ninja academy. No really, that was a thing. They played it all the time.

In 1992, they kicked up Turkey Day a notch. While still a 15-episode marathon, it started on Wednesday, November 25 at 6 PM with the debut showing of The Beatniks. By the time they reached the home stretch at 10 PM on Thanksgiving night, they played the episode premiere for Fire Maidens of Outer Space. At midnight, to finish things off, a half-hour special called This is MST3K was aired.

They kept many of the bumpers from the first Turkey Day, added some more, and each episode was introduced with a segment where Dr. Forrester would force-feed TV’s Frank some kind of turkey dish themed to the featured movie.

1993 went even bigger by adding one more episode to the marathon, making the whole thing 32 hours long. This time, the framing bumpers took the form of clips from a party that an MST3K fan won via contest. Initially, Comedy Central wanted the guys from the show to put together some segments with a tiny budget, but it was probably for the better that they didn’t. By the time Turkey Day ’93 aired, Mike Nelson had taken over for Joel as the show’s host and that major transition was still less than a month old.

This time the marathon went from 6pm on November 24 to 2am on November 26. At 10pm on Thanksgiving night, they premiered the episode featuring Beginning of the End.

The next year’s special episode premieres were Kitten with a Whip (starting the marathon) and Zombie Nightmare (ending it). Using Zombie Nightmare worked out perfectly because that movie’s antagonist was played by none other than Adam West and who better to host the Turkey Day segments? Though in retrospect, Adam West was pretty much everywhere in the mid-90s, so it wasn’t the biggest deal ever.

Still, it was nice and even featured appearances from other MST3K targets like Robert Vaughn, Beverly Garland, and Mamie Van Doren. The main focus was Adam West cooking turkeys themed to each episode and delighting us with his smooth, tryptophan-laced voice.

The 1995 edition (officially called “MST3K Anthology” despite still airing on Thanksgiving) existed to debut the seventh season of the show, known for its meager six episodes. As Comedy Central was losing interest in the series, the marathon was shortened to fifteen hours. It also featured a rare inclusion of a Season 1 episode, The Crawling Hand.

What made MST3K Anthology so memorable was not that it was the last hurrah for Comedy Central’s annual marathons or the shortened string of episodes. It was for the premiere of Episode 701, Night of the Blood Beast and the interesting way that episode was handled. Throughout the marathon, episodes would be introduced via Dr. Forrester being forced to host an impromptu Thanksgiving party with guests including preexisting characters Jack Perkins (Mike Nelson), Mr. B Natural (Bridget Nelson), Pitch (Paul Chaplin), Kitten with a Whip (Kevin Murphy), and Michael Feinstein (also Mike Nelson). This led to the airing of Night of the Blood Beast, where not only were the host segments based on celebrating Thanksgiving, but it was shown that Forrester’s Thanksgiving party was still going on.

In later airings of that episode, the host segments were completely different and had zero connection to Thanksgiving. Everything inside the theater remained the same. They just took a holiday-themed episode and made it run-of-the-mill for the sake of easier reruns. The host segments from the MST3K Anthology version of Night of the Blood Beast are available as extras on various DVD releases.

MST3K would spend three seasons on the Sci-Fi Channel, but would only get one Thanksgiving marathon, taking place in 1997. Even then, it was a bit half-assed. The marathon aired from 7:30am on November 27 to 4am on November 28, but with a six-hour break in the middle to play a couple of Star Wars movies. It also lacked any special flavor to it, foregoing any special bumpers or segments. No episode premieres. Just a handful of Sci-Fi era episodes and a lengthy Star Wars break.

Then it was sixteen years of silence. MST3K was cancelled after its tenth season in 1999. Those involved in the show mostly split into two teams. Some followed Joel as he started his new venture Cinematic Titanic. Others followed Mike, whose failed series The Film Crew was followed by the much more successful RiffTrax. That left MST3K rights owner Jim Mallon, who tried to move forward with an animated web series starring the robots and…the less said about it the better.

Joel was seeing enough money coming to him from DVD sales to realize that despite being cancelled a long time ago, there were still people wanting MST3K. With a 25-year anniversary DVD set coming out, Joel decided to promote it with the return of Turkey Day. Turkey Day ’13 featured Joel introducing the six most popular episodes of the show, which he’d also give hints about ahead of time. Streamed online, the special ended with him at the dinner table with Servo and Crow, causing speculation amongst the fans.

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There was more speculation a year later when Turkey Day ’14 had the two bots regularly appear during the host segments, voiced once again by J. Elvis Weinstein and Trace Beaulieu. There would also be segments of Joel, Trace, and Frank Conniff sitting back and reminiscing about the history of this MST3K/Thanksgiving connection.

While riding the wave of the previous year’s success, this installment of Turkey Day was also promoting a DVD set Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Turkey Day Collection. The set mainly featured four random episodes (Jungle Goddess, Painted Hills, Screaming Skull, and Squirm), but with Servo and Crow hosting intro segments to give it the illusion of a Turkey Day marathon.

By early November of 2015, shit had hit the fan. Joel had bought the rights to MST3K from Mallon and started up a Kickstarter to raise money for new episodes. Wouldn’t you know it, Turkey Day ’15 happened right during said Kickstarter. The theme of the marathon was mostly Joel hanging out with different Kickstarter employees, but it also had newly-announced Season 11 host Jonah Ray Skype his way into the broadcast to introduce one of the episodes.

The following year was pretty chill, all things considered. The new season hadn’t started yet, but it was very much on the way. Just not far along enough to show us any clips or give us any juicy news. Joel and Jonah casually hosted the six most popular episodes as polled by the fans. Nothing too crazy.

The chillness continued in 2017. This time, things were hosted by Joel, Jonah, and Felicia Day. Things seemed pedestrian with another six episodes being streamed online, but there were two important things about this marathon.

First off, everyone realized that Joel’s arms are beefier than expected, netting him the nickname Swole Hodgson.

Second, after it seemed like they were off the air, it bounced back with a special announcement that – yes, Virginia – MST3K was coming back for a twelfth season on Netflix! It’s a Turkey Day miracle! Happy Thanksgiving, you ol’ savings and loan!

Turkey Day ’18 was a bit complicated. Rather than air on Thanksgiving, the marathon streamed on the Sunday prior, once again hosted by Joel and Jonah. What made it special was that Netflix had allowed them to include the Season 11 instant classic Cry Wilderness. As for why they didn’t air the Turkey Day marathon on actual Turkey Day?

Well, Thanksgiving was when MST3K’s twelfth season debuted all at once on Netflix. Also known as MST3K: The Gauntlet, the six-episode season was based around the idea of binging the whole thing in one day. Kind of like what MST3K fans have been using Thanksgiving for for many years. While it wasn’t on the exact date as the first KTMA-TV episode in 1988, both that debut and this debut happened on the same holiday and that’s good enough as a way to celebrate the show’s 30-year anniversary.

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Unfortunately, much like the Comedy Central days, having a season of only six episodes was a bad omen. Merely a day before Thanksgiving 2019, it was announced that Netflix had canceled the show. The jerks. Any hope that Turkey Day ’19 was going to include some kind of announcement about a thirteenth season was immediately crushed and murdered like it was one of the Brute Man’s victims.

That said, the marathon that year did feature segments filmed behind-the-scenes at the third MST3K live tour. In a pre-COVID time, this was how Joel and the rest intended to keep MST3K in the minds of the public until the Netflix contract runs out and they can search out new outlets.

Up next is Turkey Day ’20. Right now, details are a little scarce, but they are figuring out the six movies via fan votes. A tournament of 24 episodes has been set up on MST3K.org, though I’m not quite sure how a tournament leads to six winners instead of just the one.

The post MST3K Turkey Day: The Long History of Mystery Science Theater 3000 and Thanksgiving appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[unkindnessofone]

5SOS. Son of Man

Just a random story that I wrote for fun on my phone. Let me know what you think. I actually really enjoyed writing it. 

For Daphne, everything went back to her former normal when school began. She had spent under a year with March and that had introduced her to a brand new group of friends and busy weekend evenings. Now that they had broken up, it was back to being called “dumb”, spending her lunch hour in the tutoring room, and having just two somewhat close friends. It was easy for her to fit back into her old life. She didn’t mind not being invited out or noticed every time she changed classrooms.

Things were different for March. He was still popular, but the assertive ache that had filled the spot in his heart that Daphne gave up still raged on. He didn’t want to hang out with friend after school, though he always went anyway. He didn’t want to make out with whatever girl was flirting with him, though he sometimes caved and snuck out of class to do so. Mostly though, he wasn’t able to sleep. He used to be a log in his bed the second his head hit the pillow, but he figured all the time he spent holed up in his messy room missing her had hindered his rest because it now seemed impossible to sleep the whole night.

In downtown Sydney, Iden Clifford walked the line. In some ways, his world had changed drastically. He was going back and forth between his mother’s luxury mansion and his dad’s tricked out condo. He had a girlfriend and not just a warm body to hang onto from night to night. He was also on the right prescription finally so his mood was stable and it made him happier to be with his old friends. Still, the demons weren’t quite silenced. They still moaned in his head and he had to argue with them sometimes to keep from laying in bed all day or wanting to hurt himself.

This was a crossroads for all three of the youngest in their families. They were on the cusp of adulthood, but there was still limits that kept control from being entirely their own.

Hugging and puffing behind Iden, March jogged through five in the morning with his head wrapped under the grey hood of his hoodie, his hands keeping warm in the sweater pouch. Outside of touring together as kiddies, the two guys rarely spent time together. It took Iden helping March and Miles clean their family home after their botched house party for them to make plans. March had mentioned that he wasn’t sleeping well and Iden told him that he went running around 5 every other morning in order to keep up for football season every year. He suggested that he join him once, but that was seven weeks ago. March had been coming every day since the first time. It helped him focus his anger better than skateboarding did. He felt as if his thoughts were clear when he was running even if he was always a few steps behind Iden. As much as he still felt grouchy all the time, March was feeling a lot physically stronger than before.

“We’ll break at the end of the pier!” Iden turned his head to the side to inform March, speaking effortless as if they hadn’t been jogging nonstop for forty five minutes.

March couldn’t speak. He felt like he would trip if he tried to open his mouth or make any noise. So he just nodded and kept trying to breathe in a balanced fashion.

Since Iden picked up his pace, March followed suit. He was always competitive, it was something about being the youngest in his family or having a twin. He had to give everything his all and strive to be the best at all activities. He knew he would never be as fast or strong as Iden, but he still had to try.

March flailed his limbs around as he started to brake, Iden already at the end where the waves for viciously crashing into one another. He had dropped to the ground and was holding up with both his hands behind him, watching the angry water and steadying his heart rate.

“I’m thinking of putting on an art show.” Iden told March once he was sitting next to him, panting like he had just had vigorous sex for hours on end. “Would you come if I did?” With people occasionally buying sketches from him, Iden’s usual self-bullying mind was growing confident in his passion. It didn’t hurt that Mariona was so encouraging and even suggested going in with her photographers. It made exposing his soul on paper feel a lot less frightening. Still, Iden wanted to be assured that people would actually show up for him.

“Yeah! Of course.” March eagerly told him, reaching out to smack his friend’s back, but thinking twice when he realized how much energy it would take. “As long as Daphne doesn’t come.”

Iden’s face pulled inward as he almost laughed at March’s response, “Don’t you two go to the same school?” It wasn’t as if he never saw the girl with eyes as big as a full moon.

“Yeah and it’s brutal.” In order to not sound like a baby, March chuckled and reached to clutch his ankles, stretching out his tired legs. “It feels so weird.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have yelled at her at your party.” He knew it wasn’t a novel concept, but it was worth mentioning.

“I know.” At himself, March sighed and dropped his head down with forehead sweat slipping off him. “I can’t help myself sometimes, like, I never plan to.” Into the night, March spoke before shaking off his hood and looking back down at the very dirty soles of his favourite running shoes. They were his only pair not made for skateboarding. “I’m like my dad. When I feel something, it just comes out.” With some embarrassment, March was finally able to admit what almost everybody else knew as fact. Like Luke Hemmings, he couldn’t get himself out of his own way. “Only thing is he has an outlet for it.” He was a great songwriter and could manage his varying feelings that way. March didn’t think there was a calm or creative bone in his body. “I just freak out.” It wasn’t as if he was violent, but his house party was the first time that he was reduced to sobbing tears on the floor. Of course, he had also wrecked a hotel room before and tossed his skateboard through a parked car window once. He did feel like running was becoming an outlet for himself though and he assumed that it was better for him to have found it now than not at all.

“I’m the other way. My dad used to always need to be alone and I’m the same way.” Iden confided, leaning back and relaxing comfortably in his position. His heart was just beginning to relax.

“Even with Mariona?” He was pretty sure that was Iden’s girlfriends name. “You seem really close.”

“No, we are. I still like to be alone sometimes though.” He had accepted he would always be that way. “We can work on our stuff silently together though so that’s nice.” Iden summed up with a shrug.

March understood. Even the chores he had to do like vacuuming the basement or finishing a science project were better when Daphne was sitting on the couch waiting for him to finish or with him in the library making her own flash cards. She made even the worst parts of the day great. He missed that most about her, more than any of her curves, her brightly painted lips leaving colour on his body, or how her chest felt pressed against his when he was falling asleep on a beach towel. She just made everything better by being herself. Even though it sometimes stung harshly when he saw her in their school halls, March still felt glad to see her. She was a bright sunbeam even if these days he needed protection from her powerful ray.

“Jesus, us and our Daddy issues.” Iden shook his head at both of them before rolling his eyes and laughing. He checked his stats on a wrist watch he wore when running, monitoring his progress for himself.

March would have admitted out loud how much he missed Daphne, but Iden distracted him with his joke. It gave March a whole different kettle of fish to consider. It wasn’t the first time someone made that crack, but it was the first time he didn’t just laugh it off. His mom always told him that he was just like his dad, but he didn’t see it himself because he didn’t want to see it.

“Hey, you talk to Emme? I saw her on the back of a magazine.” He had been getting a soda at a gas station on the way home a couple days ago and felt her eyes with their piercing diamond dust staring up at him from the mint and bubble gum selection. “It was for nail polish. I think.” He didn’t really pay close attention to what she was selling with her hands on both sides of her face. He just snapped a picture of the picture with his phone to send it to his siblings.

Iden knew the ad, nodding at March’s small description. It was nail polish that made his sister a model. She had signed on with Essie Nail Inc to represent them right before she turned sixteen and Iden remembered knowing that she would never stop after that. She had done local runway shows and helped new photographers in different locations start their portfolios, but that was the first professional job with a real pay check and international distribution. His sister’s face was in the middle of drug stores and she loved it. Iden was happy for her, but he wished she could have stayed back in Sydney. He felt like he needed her more than the rest of the world did.

“Yeah, we text, but she’s on the other side of the world.” It made for varying response times from both of them and sometimes a person just needed a quick answer in the moment. Iden checked the sweat on top of his head, it’s buzz nature scratching with a mind familiarity at his palm.

“Yeah, Pen might as well be on, like, Saturn.” March mused. Between their distance, her courses, and kitchen job, it seemed like all of her time was spoken for. March was close to giving up on Daphne ever messaging him again. He had stopped bugging her himself, but he did find himself following his sister’s social media religiously and wishing she would send him a stupid joke via text. “They’ll both be back at Christmas though.”

“Knowing Emmeline she will rent a castle in Ireland or some shit just to be dramatic and have a reason to not see my parents.” Iden hadn’t even realized he would have split Christmases this year. He was too busy with his final year of school and catching up with the other two hundred changes currently going on in his life. “Which, by the way, if they can handle having to talk to one another then you can come to my show and pass by Daphne.” Coming full circle, Iden thought out loud.

“I’ll be there.” Taking a moment to think, March agreed. He rose as he watched Iden did, always letting him take the lead when it came to their dark morning cardio. Iden shoved his limp knuckles into March’s chest and took off, keeping his pace regular enough for March to be beside him. Well, for a little while.

++++++

Though lighter in its violet shade, the city was still dark when March made his way back home, walking at his own pace and looking around on his phone for the last ten minutes instead of jogging. His house was vast in size, but he was still mindful when he crept in. Even without Penelope there, three other people occupied the house and he grew up having to share spaces with them. He learned from watching Penelope always getting in trouble for sneaking in and out how to move around silently. March held the door that led from the backyard deck into their kitchen until it was completely closed. He realized once his shoes were lazily off that the living room lights were on. His dad was laying on the couch, his hands on his shirt covered stomach, with his headphones on listening to music so loudly that March could make out what band it was.

“How was your run?” Moving his headphones off his ears and resting them behind, Luke asked his doppelganger as March took a deeper step through the house.

“Good?” The status of his relationship with running was still up in the air. He liked it, but it was daunting. March folded his hands behind his head and stretched out his triceps. He was sore and he wasn’t used to his Dad greeting him this early even though he knew that he also was not a great sleeper. The whole house always blamed that on Penelope though. “Mom knows I go running with Iden. She was cool with it.” March darted his eyes from wall to wall before bringing them back to Luke’s. He wasn’t sure if he was in trouble or not.

“I know.” Sitting up, Luke assured him instantly. “It’s fine by me too. I was just FaceTiming your sister. She says hi.” Luke fiddled with his phone to pause his music, giving March better attention.

“Oh. Cool, cool, cool.” He nodded along. He wished Penelope would have FaceTimed him. Right now, he felt like Penelope could fix things. She could work her cocksure charm on Daphne who always looked up to the blond mermaid and then they could be together again. More importantly, she would just be around to hang out with and March wanted that. He missed just eating cereal and watching TV with both his brother and sister at once. “I thought maybe you were up to catch me sneaking in.”

“No.” Luke gently shot down right away. “I think the running is good.” He also trusted Iden more than he did the stoners that filled his house before school started. “I think it’s good you’re working things out.” It was no secret that March was struggling with his recent break up and Luke was trying to soften himself and be supportive of his youngest kid. “Maybe I could join you and Iden one day.” He didn’t know when. He preferred weights or sex with his wife to running, but Luke knew he needed to find new ways to stay in excellent health. Plus, it would be bonding.

“Iden outruns me.” March mentioned instead of just suggesting the two of them go on their own without Mike’s boy before exhaling deeply, his heart still racing.

“Well, I’m sure you’d both kick my ass.” Luke joked and followed March into the kitchen where the kid went to get water from the fridge’s door filter. The purring noise of the machine and water hitting his glass echoed due to the high ceilings. “Your brother has a soccer game today at your school. Do you want to stay and watch?” He was going to go with Cagney since it was the first game of the season.

“Uhhh…I don’t know.” With his back to his old man, March thought out loud before tossing back a refreshing gulp. He wasn’t used to his Dad being so chatty, but ever since he found March crying in the studio, Luke had been asking for details from both boys. It was as if with Penelope gone and her head trauma not in the forefront of his mind, he needed a new dilemma to solve. His hero complex was fully engaged since coming from from Paris and New York.

“Scared you might have to see Daph?” Everyone else might have clumsily danced around it on their tip toes, Luke was not worried about shooting straight.

“I see her at school every day.” Meekly defiant, March turned around and retorted, leaning against the fridge and scowling he would as a toddler when he was on a time out.

“And it’s the worst, right?”

Hesitantly, the younger Hemmings agreed, “It blows, yeah.”

“Have you two talked?” Luke hadn’t a clue about how March grew unnerved and blew up at Daphne at the house party. He didn’t even know that Daphne had been in his house since the break up at all.

“No. We only have one class together.” It was a core subject though, so it was every day unfortunately and March hated that he had to see the back of her head, her soft legs under her kilt, and her bright pink backpack that he used to slip Hershey’s kisses in. “She tried to talk to me.” Finally, March admitted.

“Yeah?”

“I shut her down.” He found a creative way to admit that he lost his temper. March watched his Dad drop at the shoulders with one fast motion as he leaned against the kitchen island. “I know!” Sensing his Dad’s disappointment, March jumped in defensively. “I’m a moron.”

“No.” Grinning with amusement, Luke looked up and corrected him. “You’re not a moron.” He was a teenager. “Your mom is right.” And his band mates, and Simone, and Grandma Liz, and Skye, and every neighbour they had ever had. “You and I are exactly the same.”

It was March’s turn to make an unimpressed face and, even without seeing it, he knew it looked everything like his father’s had.

“Your mom has always accused me of being harder on you than on Miles.” Luke cleared his throat and pulled out a stool so that he could sit at the island that had been reinstalled more times than he could remember. “I don’t know if that’s actually true or not, but we definitely handle situations the same way. I think because I know how life is going to be for you, I freak out a little more.” It was harder to protect someone when you knew for a fact they weren’t going to listen. Luke had been just as stubborn, selfish, wild, and needy as March was and he had done it all with too much money in his pocket and everyone saying ‘yes’ to him. Luke feared for March because Luke knew what it was like to be your own downfall. Miles was level headed and came with a healthy dose of fear, but March was born trying to soar long before he could even wiggle around on his knees.

“So, what am I going to do about Daphne then?” If March was so much like his father, he wanted some insight because he was driving himself crazy these days.

“I know your mom would say give her space and just be her friend,” He knew that because his wife’s approach was always to listen and try to find common ground. The hairstylist in her always won. She had raised her children by giving them the greatest customer service ever encountered outside of a shopping mall. “but I know how fucking hard that can be.” He knew that because he had been in March’s situation before. He had scared Cagney away, she had broken his heart, and they had disappointment one another before, but they stayed together because they were never afraid to fight for one another. They were dedicated to staying in the ring with one another even if they would have been able to breathe easier outside of the mat. Of course, it was different. He and Cagney were married, they had children, and they had years of memories collected together. March and Daphne were still finishing high school and Daphne was almost March’s first everything. “What do you want to happen?”

“I want us to be together.” March felt like he said that every single day lately.

“Then give her a reason to be with you.” Luke shrugged, remembering that Ashton had once said that to him when he was younger and struggling in his own relationship. “And yelling at her is not going to work. A, I don’t think it works for anyone because all they hear is your anger,” He had learned that from couple’s therapy and his father. “and B, Daffy has never liked being yelled at.” People used to raise their voices on the tour bus, not even at her, and she hide inside a cupboard somewhere and take a few pieces of chocolate coax out. She was an easy person to spend time with, but she hated confrontation.

“Thanks, Dad.” Sincerely, March said and reached across the table with his hand free of a water glass to fist bump Luke. Embarrassingly eagerly, Luke returned the gesture. “Appreciate it.” He nodded before putting down his glass in the sink. March started to leave the room to shower since he still had school to attend. “Hey, Dad?” He poked his head out from behind the wall, catching his Dad in the middle of patting himself on the back for another successful pep talk with March. His dad perked up like an excited puppy that just heard it’s favourite human call for it. “We could go for a run some time if you wanted. I have a spare last period every Thursday.”

“You got it.” Luke shot his finger out at his boy and committed.

Strangely, both Luke and March felt excited about the prospect of going for a jog together even if they both weren’t fans of physically exerting themselves. There was something sweet and promising about where their time together was going. They were both getting to know one another more as humans than father and son and they both preferred it that way so far.

++++++++++++

Coming up the elevator of the condominium building that his Dad now called home, Iden emerges into the 22nd floor and walked to the far end. He realized his abnormal childhood had prepared him for being able to adjust to changes. He grew up with his older sister on red eye flights, in hotel penthouse suites, and in the loading dock of arenas. He did it all without being one of the more temper tantrum driven kids and he did it all while wanting to kill himself. Iden would never give himself credit for it, but he was resilient. Perhaps, that was why he was handling his parent’s divorce better than Emmeline was. He was used to having to lay awake day after day trying to survive personal Hell. Emme was used to people bending and adjusting to keep her happy.

Iden fiddled with the lock and key then walked into the place as if it wasn’t very early in the morning. When home, his dad always slept through his footsteps in the doorway and even the shower he jumped in right away. Iden never worried about waking him up because Michael Clifford could sleep through anything. Iden kicked off his sneakers and organized them at the door before starting to peel off his damp black shirt on his way to the washroom. Once the fabric was over his head, he was surprised to catch a glimpse of his Dad on the balcony. At least that’s who it looked like from behind, strumming guitar and watching the sun just begin to rise over the downtown area.

Shirtless, Iden walked right up to the screen door and pressed his face against it. He wanted to check that it was, indeed, actually his dad sitting out there strumming. He nearly spooked Mike right out of his skin at his surprise appearance.

“Fuck Iden.” Mike softly hissed. He had almost dropped the acoustic guitar on his lap.

“Sorry.” Iden moved the door open and joined his Dad. “You’re usually asleep.”

“How was the run?” He asked while placing his fingers back where they had been on the neck of his instrument. Sometimes Michael considered going along with his son on his jogs, but he could never pull himself out of bed when the time came.

“Fine.” Shrugging, Iden summed up. He grimaced at the light breeze that blew by and wished he had kept his smelly shirt on. Iden simply folded his arms across his chest and leaned against their railing that overlooked the world that was just waking up.

“March still go with you?” He thought it was nice that Iden was growing closer to one of Luke’s kids. Iden had a close personal relationship with depression and Michael had heard through the grapevine that March had been feeling low lately. He hoped his son could, maybe, help.

“Yeah. I thought he’d quit by now.” Iden said to the city. “Why are you up? You work today?” Turning to his side, he questioned his Dad. He was pretty sure Mike was on a break, needing one with all the drama with Emmeline and his impending divorce.

“Nah.” He cocked his head lazily to one side and then shook it before resting the guitar against the glass part of the balcony door. “Just…” He wasn’t sure how much would be considered okay to share with his son. It wasn’t as if Michael could talk to Iden about everything going on with the divorce: how he hated talking to lawyers, he hated thinking about dating, he hated only having Iden around his home sometimes, how he felt like a failure to his wife and kids, and how he felt like it was really Grace leaving him - that she was escaping him after how much she had depended on him throughout their marriage. Michael felt left out of his own life and waking up early gave him extra time to beat himself up about it. No, he couldn’t tell Iden any of that. Iden wasn’t like other kids. He knew neither one of his parents were angels, but Michael didn’t want to confuse him or accidentally say something unkind about his mom. For all Grace’s faults, she had been the most attentive mother. Michael sighed and decided to be honest about other things with Iden instead, “Your sister called a few times.” It been right after Iden left and it didn’t stop for an hour or so. Usually, Mike kept his phone on ‘do not disturb’ when he slept, but with Emmeline far away and Grace under a different roof, he had some exceptions to his rule.

“Yelled at you?” Iden missed Emme terribly, but he knew all about how difficult she was being to their parents.

“A little.” Mike nodded, deciding it wasn’t fair to either kid for him to delve into it. Mostly, she just cried and even asked him to never remarry which Michael hadn’t even thought of until then. Unfortunately though, he couldn’t honestly promise her that. “She’s having a hard time with things. I suggested a therapist -” Michael had seen therapy work miracles for people, himself included. He would even cover the cost for her. He wanted to.

“I bet she loved that.” Sarcastically, Iden said and raised his messy brows. He knew if his Aunt Keg saw him she would whip out her travel tweezers and not even ask.

“Yeah,” His chest inflated high only to collapse in on itself in memory of the recent conversations he had with his daughter that was all emotions and very little logic. “She said she wouldn’t need therapy if your Mom and I just stayed together.” Michael told Iden only to wish he hadn’t. “Sorry, this isn’t your business.” He would crack a beer with Calum and Skye and mention it all to them when he and Iden went for dinner at their place tonight. Skye was convinced Michael wouldn’t get a single decent meal if he didn’t come over to her place and eat with her small family at least once a week.

“It’s okay.” Iden didn’t mind in the slightest and his straight face suggested that. “I know how Emme can be.” He told to the whistling wind that crept up to meet their floor. Emmeline might have been his favourite person, but Iden knew that she wasn’t a picnic. It took a professional amount of stamina to just hold a conversation with her sometimes. She could be your strongest ally, but also descend a storm onto your life.

“Well put in a good word for me when you talk to her.” Michael finished and picked the guitar back up to his lap. He loved how close his kids were, but now he was grateful they had one another to confide in and lean on. “You got to get ready for school.” With a yellow glow illuminating him as the sun rose, Michael changed the subject.

“Yeah, I got to shower.” Iden pushed off the railing and headed back inside.

Their exchange was short and sweet, but Michael could remember effortlessly when Iden closed off the whole world to him and wanted to die in his room. His thoughts of frustration and concern for Emme shifted as Iden went back in, sliding the screen door shut behind him. He just felt grateful. His life might have felt like it was in tatters, but Iden had made incredible progress and that made so much pain seem worth it.