#have a hair appointment in four days to go back to brunette

[unholyhelbig]

Part two of mafia nat???

Title: The Oversight [Part 2/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 3079

Warnings: Hostage situation, brusing, mentions of child abuse, horrible grammar, and Quiznos

[a/n: Thank you all for the great response to the first chapter! I'm making this a thing, for sure!] Let me know if you're interested in being added to the taglist for this story!

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

“The usual, sweet girl.” You set the plate of pancakes down in front of Veronica. A happy face was painted against the golden surface with whipped cream, with cherries and two slices of bacon divided perfectly for hair. Your daughter never seemed to grow tired of the meal and would swallow down a glass of milk with just a bit of strawberry syrup.

Despite having completed the maze on the back of the kid’s menu at least a dozen times, she remained infatuated, kicking her feet back and forth as the orange crayon made its way through the boldened lines.

You tentatively moved a lock of brunette hair from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. “Eat your food, kiddo. Big day tomorrow.”

Veronica nodded and started to fork down the smiling face. She didn’t speak much, a few words here and there, and that worried you enough to take the day off from work. You had found a speech therapist right outside of the city that accepted your HMO plan with enough fervor that you made the soonest appointment you could.

While you worked hard to shield Veronica from the life that you were determined to break away from, you were distressed. Kids were smart, they didn’t’ get enough credit. You were sure that she noticed the only meals she ate was at this diner and at school. The way that you were here all the time, dressed in the same uniform stained with ketchup and coffee. The way you fell asleep on the second-hand sofa for a few hours at a time.

“She your kid?”

While your back was turned, mind rushing with intrepid thoughts, someone had sidled up against the counter with an empty white mug, its mouth flipped to the ceiling. The blonde looked innocent enough, if not in despite need of the coffee she was asking for. Her accent was thick. Russian or Ukrainian, nothing you could fully place. 

“She is a very good artist.” She tapped her finger against the orange drawing of a sunset in the corner of the placemat. “A lot of talent in this one.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the compliment, picking up the coffee pot. The blonde nodded and smiled back as you poured her a cup. “She gets it from her father.”

While you weren’t entirely sure that was true, you did know that the talent wasn’t from you. You never had the artistic eye. Veronica, on the other hand, was a quiet force to be recon with when it came to art. Even at a young age, you knew whole-heartedly that she had a future in it if she stuck with it.

“That so?” The woman took a long sip of her coffee, not flinching at the heat. “She should keep going. It’s important to have something to hold onto.”

The memory flickered in our mind as you drifted in and out of consciousness. It could have been a day, or a week, and your heart ached just as fiercely for your daughter as it always had. She would be in safe hands for now, you were sure. Your sitter knew about your devoted love, your resilience to make sure that Ronnie was okay. You were all she had, and being tied to a chair until your muscles felt like jelly was not a good sign.

You weren’t sure what had pulled you out of a fitful sleep for a few moments, but there was a light squeeze on your shoulder. Your head shot back and collided with something. There was a soft grunt, and your inhale burned your lungs. When you blinked awake, there wasn’t complete darkness. A less harsh light had been turned on.

The blonde from the diner was standing in front of you, robbing a tender spot on the center of her nose. “Ouch, that really hurt!”

“Sorry, I-“ you frowned, snapping your mouth shut. You weren’t going to apologize. You were the one that had been kidnapped, not the other way around. “What’s happening?”

Natasha had left you without another word, and you hated the way you missed her presence. You’d drifted off in the quiet and considered it a better punishment than Clints vicious blows to the face. The girl in front of you held a bottle of water up as a peace offering.

She cracked open the top, and even if you weren’t quite sure if something was in it, you didn’t care at the moment. She guided it to your lips, and a few drops dripped over your chin. It cooled the burning in your throat.

“Thank you,” this time you meant it. Natasha had made it clear that there was no good cop, but this was starting to look like your reprieve. You tested your luck. “If they’re going to kill me, why hold me?”

“They are not going to kill you. Natasha is a cautious woman. She did not get to where she was without crossing a few lines. You claim that you’re not on drugs and my sister wants to make sure that is truthful. Can you blame her?”

From a technical standpoint- no, you couldn’t. You searched for some type of resemblance in the woman and came up with nothing but a slight similarity in the slope of her nose. She smiled, crossing her legs, and sitting back against the chair.  

“Let’s play twenty questions.”

You lifted an eyebrow, and it sent a shooting pain to your temple. “If I get one wrong, do you shoot me?”

She laughed, “No wrong answers. Can you believe that I want to get to know you? I’ll go first. My name is Yelena, and my favorite color is green. Forest green if you would like to get specific, which I would.”

“Dark red.” You said “I’m y/n.”

“Oh, I know. How long have you lived in the city?”

You rolled your shoulders back again. They were stiff. You’ve never been this uncomfortable in your life, and not just socially. There was a cool calmness about Yelena that put you at ease. Though, she was one of your kidnappers, and most-likely a member of the secret underground organization that had inexplicitly frequented the diner.

“My whole life. Not this part of town, though. East lower with my mom and my dad until my mom died and my dad got himself killed when I was seventeen.”

“Foster care?”

“For a year until I was old enough to be out on my own. I’m not going to let my daughter end up the same way. That was the hardest year of my life and if she loses me then… Her father isn’t around, but I’m afraid that going into the system would be best case scenario.”

“She’s six?” Yelena asked.

“And a half, but yes.”

“Non-verbal?”

You nodded again. This felt like a shitty game of twenty questions. Yelena already knew all the answers and you could still taste blood and the aching in your jaw. She tapped her fingers against her knee, uncrossing them and leaning forward.

The ceiling still stretched above you. There were rafters that you could barely make out in the darkness. You blinked so you wouldn’t cry. Still, when you spoke next, your words came out pinched and you couldn’t help but feel weak.

“The world is a horrible place, and the odds are already stacked against her, you know?” You sniffed to keep snot that you couldn’t wipe away from dripping onto your shirt already soiled with blood. “She’s a good kid. She’s funny, and smart, and I want her to have a life where she thinks everything is okay, even if there’s a possibility that it never is. Ronnie doesn’t need to know that. She doesn’t need to know.”

Yelena swallowed hard and nodded. She stood and closed the distance between you. Her hand was warm against you skin as she tentatively wiped away the moisture on your cheek. She gave you the rest of the water. “Okay. Drink.”

You were foolish to trust her. There was something in the water that was tasteless but rendered you unconscious all the same. You blinked awake, not sure how much time had passed. Your mind was swimming relentlessly, being forced in and out of lucidity had done nothing for your resolve.

Sunlight, something you thought you would never see again, flitted through an open window. A cooling summer breeze accompanied the sight. You’d been freed somewhere along the way, and your gratitude wasn’t lost on you.

Dark purple bruises encircled both of your wrists. Your whole body ached, and you let out a low moan at the sudden blinking movement. “Oh… fuck.”

“That’s a beautiful sound.”

Your back was pushed up against a dark oak bedframe, heels shoving you back. There was a lightheadedness swirling around you. A nice bedspread was underneath you, and the room itself was dripping in riches.

It was large with floor to ceiling windows, the walls slathered in deep maroon paint. There was a wall of bookshelves filled with expertly bound books. Two chairs and a small cocktail table was set up in a beam of sunlight.

Natasha held a crystal glass of unidentified alcohol in her hand. The ice floated within the deep brown liquid as if it were afraid to make a sound. She wore a suit, one that hugged her sides. Her lips were painted red to match the walls and she tapped her nail against the glass, observing you.

Her words sent a pang directly to your core, and that embarrassed you more than your exhaustion. Blood flooded into your cheeks and the very corner of Natasha’s lip twitched in response. She set her glass down on the table.

You recoiled as she rose and transplanted herself on the corner of the bed. She was gentle with her movements as if you were an animal that she was afraid to startle. Natasha had a tight hold on her operations. She was nothing more than a myth. Simply the boss.

Somehow, she scared you more now than she did before. When you were tied to the chair, you were certain that you were going to die. But now, in this royal-style room, you were filled with questions about why she let you live.

“I don’t make mistakes, but unfortunately, the same can’t be said for the people who work for me.” She was glaring at the design etched into the duvet, gold embroidery. Her perfectly manicured fingers thumbed the flower. “You were profiled, and you were profiled wrong. I don’t go after single mothers, especially ones that don’t keep certain… habits.”

There was a sinking feeling that you weren’t meant to speak. This was the delicate moment during a hostage situation where the robber has a gun pointed at your head, the finger on the trigger and a burlap sack of money in the opposite hand. Your words would do nothing but loosen the safety.

“This is being dealt with, believe me.” Natasha looked up at you, her eyes fierce, a beautiful fern color that bounded off the darkness of the walls. “But you must understand, y/n, I am not known for my kindness, and I am certainly not known for my mercy. You still took the money, and you still owe me.”   

You drew in a breath, opening your mouth to protest, but Natasha held up her hand and you snapped your jaw shut. There was a bit of amusement in her stare that you didn’t have the mental capacity to dissect.

“Yelena said that you know how to fight. Or, at the very least, take a hit. So, I’m not asking. I’m telling you that work for me until your debt is paid off.”

Natasha had gotten impossibly close to you. That same deep scent of mint filled your lungs. It wasn’t comforting, but it didn’t’ unsettle you anymore, and neither did her warmth. You winched when she reached up and grabbed your face, squeezing softer than Clint had, her nails still dug into soft bruising.

She whispered her words, breath hot on your lips. “You belong to me now, and I don’t always play nice.”

Natasha ‘not playing nice’ looked a lot like having a driver drop you off in front of your apartment without your shoes. The sidewalk was cold despite the hot day, and as you stared up at your unit, you swore that the curtains flickered. You blinked and squeezed the bridge of your nose immediately regretting it the second you felt the shooting pain reach your eardrums.

They had taken your keys, presumably to make copies, and the sweatpants that you were given were much too big around your waist. You had sinched them with a shoestring, just counting yourself lucky that they’d provided a change of clothes in the first place. Even the shirt was stained and had a logo on it for a defunct Quiznos in queens.

Your body threatened to give out as you took the stairs two at a time up to your apartment. You still didn’t’ have a grasp on how much time had passed, but it was evening when you left work, and the sun felt like a mid-day assault on your senses.

Frantically, you knocked on your neighbor’s door, wiping your sweaty palms against your pants. Natasha’s pants. More than likely- Clints pants. It took a few moments for the door to swing open, but when it did, you were flooded with relief.

Darcy had an eyebrow lifted at you. “Holy shit,”

You didn’t let her get another word in edgewise before you engulfed her in a hug. She let out a breath at the impact and after a few seconds, pulled you in closer. Darcy was a friend, someone you trusted enough to watch your daughter. There was a soft spot in your heart for her. You didn’t let go when she backed the two of you into the living room and let the door fall shut behind you.

“I was three seconds from calling the police, y/n.” she pulled back, squeezing your shoulders. “What happened to you?”

You were instructed on what to say, word for word. You’d repeated it twice to Natasha and once to the driver. Lying to Darcy, someone who was the equivalent of a lie detector. Her eyes were hard, her voice hushed.

“I got jumped by a couple of guys on the way out of the restaurant. I was stranded on the other side of town, no phone. I tried to get here as soon as possible but I got a little banged up. I’m okay, a little shaken, but okay.” You frowned, “What day is it?”

Your eyes searched the room for a clock, for anything that would give you indication, but Darcy, while one of the sweetest people you had ever met, was a bit scatter-brained. You trusted her with your daughter, and with your own life, but there were spare computer parts strung out across her coffee table, on the couch, and the television stand.

“Y/n, you’ve been gone for two days.” She lifted your chin with a curled finger, making a hissing noise as she sucked in a breath “Oh they got you good. You’re sure you don’t want to press charges?”

“More trouble than it’s worth.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I would love an icepack, though. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“I’ve got frozen peas and corn, dealers’ choice. Ronnie finally fell asleep; I kept telling her that nothing was wrong but she’s too preceptive for her own good sometimes.”

It was a bad move, but you gave Darcy a thankful squeeze on the shoulder and moved down the hall to the guest room.  It was the cleanest place in the house, reserved for visitors. Darcy still had zoomed in photos of computer chips. They were like little mazes without an escape, her personality shining through.

Veronica was laying on top of the duvet, curled up in a blanket that was typically strewn across the base of the bed. She wasn’t asleep, her tempered gray eyes flicking to the door and then lighting up when she realized that it was you. You leaned against the doorframe, warmth flooding you.

You wrapped her in a bone-crunching hug, squeezing her into you as if you never wanted to let her go. She smelled like Darcy’s shampoo, a light floral concoction that comforted you. Ronnie’s hand squeezing the fabric of your borrowed shirt.

“Hi, baby” you pulled back slightly, enough room for you to give her a kiss on the forehead, pushing back ringlets of curly hair. “I missed you.”

Her nose scrunched up and her little fingers ghosted so softly over the pulsing bruises on your face. You never wanted her to see you like this, for anyone to see you like this, but at the moment you didn’t care. Having her in your arms was enough to erase all of that doubt.

“It’s alright. I’m alright,” You assured, and she crunched her nose again. “Oh, you think I stink?”

You probably did. You’d been strapped to a chair for 48 hours, nearly vomiting up what little food you’d consumed the night of your abduction. You’d sweat through your clothes, and the borrowed ones weren’t much better in the scent department.

“Too bad, little one,” you poked at her sides, eliciting an infectious giggle. “You’re stuck with me, stink and all.”

You let yourself go slack against her, trapping her under one of your arms. Veronica playfully tried to shove you off and you let out a grunt at each attempt. Eventually her arms wrapped around yours and she settled into you.

Maybe some sleep wouldn’t do you bad. Your body was about to give out, and the only instructions you’d gotten from Natasha other than the white lie of your injuries, was to hang tight and heal until she contacted you, and she would contact you.

“I didn’t know which one you wanted, so I brought both.” Darcy said from the doorway. You mumbled into the pillow in response, nothing legible. “Oh, we’re cuddling, or is this a hostage situation?”

You winced internally at the words, but sighed contentedly when you felt the weight of the frozen vegetables against your shoulder blades. You melted into the pillows, the bed dipping down as Darcy laid on the other side of Ronnie, as you drifted off to sleep.

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toocreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff]

[leiawritesstories]

We're Really Doing This

Rowaelin Month 2024, Day 28: Eloping @rowaelinscourt

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: some swearing, innuendo

A/N: ✨happy birthday to me✨ here have a fun little elopement fic!! enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And do you, Aelin Galathynius, take this man as your lawfully wedded husband?” 

Aelin looked at Rowan, grasping his hands. “Are we really doing this?” she whispered, her breath hitching. 

He grinned at her, eyes bright. “We’re really doing this.” 

The officiant cleared his throat politely, and Aelin snapped her attention back to the ceremony. With a smile bright enough to shame the sun, she met Rowan’s gaze. “I do.” 

~

Three Hours Earlier

“So, to clarify, you’re actively trying to give your entire family and his entire family a massive heart attack?” 

“That’s exactly what we’re going for.” Aelin smirked at her best friend. “Are you in, maid of honor?” 

“Hell yes!” Lysandra kicked her feet giddily. “We need to go find you a dress like, now!” 

Aelin laughed. “One step at a time, Lys.” 

“Bullshit.” The brunette leapt to her feet and caught Aelin’s hand. “I wasn’t expecting this at all, since you and your mom have been planning a big-ass wedding ever since you and Ro got engaged, but you go, girlie. And if it’s your wedding day, you need a dress. Now.” 

“What if I told you I already have a dress?” Aelin and Rowan had gotten engaged just over a year ago, and Lys was right—practically since the day Aelin came home with that emerald glittering on her left hand, Evalin Ashryver had been in full event-planning mode. 

Lys stopped in her tracks. “You do not.” 

“Oh, I do.” Aelin’s grin turned wicked as she crossed the hotel room and opened the closet, revealing a garment bag that she unzipped. With a flourish, she pulled the dress out of the bag, and it unfurled in a spill of white silk. 

“Holy fuck!” Lys stared at the sleeveless sheath dress, examining its beautiful tailoring and the slit running up one seam. “Where did you get that?” 

“Ells knows people.” Aelin shrugged. Elide Lochan, another of her close friends and one of her bridesmaids, worked as a modeling agent, and she was always picking up clothes from various designers that she gave to her friends. “I had a few alterations done, and here we go.” She hung the dress up and picked up a smaller, flat box. “And I have my mom’s veil, so she can’t be too mad at me for defying tradition.” 

Lys laughed at that. “I still stand by my heart attack statement.” 

“Oh, you were a hundred percent right about that.” Aelin glanced over at her phone, where her notifications had been pinging for almost a whole minute. “Lys, what the fuck? Did you text the groupchat?” 

“Of course I did!” Lys patted Aelin’s shoulder. “Just the one with you, me, Rowan, and Lorcan.” 

“That’s marginally better.” Lorcan was Rowan’s best man, so the groupchat with just the four of them was where they handled most of the wedding details. Aelin looked at the string of texts. “Why is Lorcan asking if we have a limo?” 

“We’re in Vegas, baby!” Lys beamed. “Why shouldn’t you get a limo?” 

“Because they’re tourist traps, and before you say it, hell no. We’re not getting married by Elvis.” 

Lys frowned. “What happened to your sense of adventure?” 

“Ro and I already went and applied for a marriage license at the courthouse, and we have an appointment there later today.” Aelin flicked Lys’s shoulder. “We aren’t drunk enough to get married by some middle-aged man in a shitty Elvis suit.” 

“Fair enough.” Lysandra rolled her shoulders. “All right, lady, you better have brought all of your hair and makeup stuff, because so help me gods, you’ll be the most glamorous bride in the courthouse.” 

“I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it.” Aelin grinned and opened up her makeup bag. 

~

A good two hours later, she had her makeup done and her hair resting in rollers, lips held apart as the smudge-proof scarlet lipstick dried. Lysandra made her close her eyes as she sprayed her face with setting spray, and Aelin obediently sat and waited until Lys told her she could open her eyes and stand up. She looked at herself in the mirror, and she beamed. 

“I love you, Lyssie.” 

“Love you too, Aelie.” 

Aelin wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, why? We’re not in college anymore.” 

Lys snickered. “You said it first.” 

“Oh, fine.” Aelin went over to the closet, dropped her robe, and let Lysandra help her into the dress, carefully sliding up the zipper in the back. She turned slowly, admiring the way the silk flowed over the lines of her figure, molded to her body. The slit climbed up her left leg, stopping at the middle of her thigh, and the heels she’d brought paired perfectly with the sleek look of the dress. 

Behind her, Lys sniffled as she pinned the veil into Aelin’s curls. “You’re really a bride,” she murmured, and Aelin turned and flung her arms around her best friend. 

“You’re the best maid of honor,” Aelin murmured thickly. 

Lys managed a smile. “Of course I am.” She blinked back the sheen of her tears. “Let’s go get you married.” 

She and Aelin went downstairs to the hotel lobby, and a car was waiting at the curb. They climbed into the back seat and went off to the courthouse, only a short drive from the hotel. As she hopped out of the car, Aelin looked across the limestone steps, a smile unfurling across her face when she saw Rowan and Lorcan standing shoulder to shoulder at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Hey there, handsome,” she hummed, touching his shoulder. 

He turned, and wonder suffused his face as he gawked at her in her wedding dress. “Holy gods, Fireheart,” he finally managed to say. “You’re so beautiful.” 

She blushed under her makeup. “Thank you, love.” She swept a long look up and down his figure, appreciating the fit of his tux. “You look stunning, too.” 

“Luckiest man in the world,” he murmured, holding out his hand. “Ready?” 

“For you? Yes.” She tucked her hand into his, and they walked up the courthouse steps together. 

They checked in at the reception desk in the lobby, and an aide led them back to a small, unassuming courtroom. It looked like an office, just with a small version of a judge’s bench in place of a desk. The placard on the desk read “Justice of the Peace,” meaning that the man behind the desk was officially authorized to perform weddings and other official duties. He greeted them and had Aelin and Rowan stand facing each other in front of the bench, with Lysandra and Lorcan a couple steps away as the witnesses. Hand in hand with Rowan, Aelin lost herself in his gaze as the officiant began the wedding ceremony. 

~

“Do you, Rowan Whitethorn, take Aelin Galathynius as your lawfully wedded wife?” 

Rowan’s eyes were soft and filled with love. “I do.” 

“And do you, Aelin Galathynius, take Rowan Whitethorn as your lawfully wedded husband?” 

Aelin smiled. “I do.” 

They exchanged rings, Aelin sliding a steel-gray platinum band with an inlay of tiny rubies onto Rowan’s finger and Rowan slipping a gold band engraved with a subtle flame design onto Aelin’s finger, tucking it into place beside her engagement ring. 

“With the authority vested in me by the state of Nevada, I hereby declare you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride.” 

Rowan smoothly hooked an arm around Aelin’s waist and dipped her into a fervent kiss. 

Behind them, Lysandra whooped, applauding vividly. Lorcan joined in, whistling lowly when Rowan finally pulled away and set Aelin upright on her feet. She was smiling brighter than he’d ever seen her smile, her joy warming his heart, and his smile matched hers. 

“Hi, husband,” she whispered. 

He kissed her again. “Hi, wife.” 

Aelin raised her and Rowan’s hands into the air like a winning boxer as they walked out of the courthouse and down the steps. They climbed into the car that was waiting for them, Lys and Lorcan following, and they drove off to the hotel, where the families were gathered for what they thought was going to be an engagement party. Aelin’s mother had repeatedly questioned her daughter’s desire to hold her party in Vegas, but she begrudgingly agreed when Aelin told her that was where the bachelor and bachelorette trips were going to be. 

Lorcan and Lysandra went into the hotel event space first, giving Aelin and Rowan a few minutes to themselves. She and Lys had planned it out during the drive—the best man and maid of honor would say some words of welcome, and when Aelin and Rowan were ready, they’d walk in and be announced as Mr. and Mrs. to everyone’s shock. 

“Ready?” Rowan asked, wrapping one arm low around Aelin’s hips. 

She flicked a sultry glance up at him. “I might need a few more minutes.” Even in her heels, she still had to rise up to kiss him, and in a blur of hazy kisses, she’d tugged him into the closest coat closet. It was empty except for some hangers, since nobody was wearing a jacket in Vegas, and he backed her swiftly against the shelves, his lips attached to her neck. 

“Love you so much,” he murmured against her skin. 

She wove her fingers into his hair. “Love you more, Ro.” 

A fist thudded against the door, shattering their little bubble. “Break it up, you two,” Lorcan grumbled. “I’m not opening this door, but you might want to get your lovebird asses out here.” 

“Jackass,” Rowan muttered. 

Aelin snickered. “Thank you, Lor darling.” 

“Gods above.” Lorcan left, probably rolling his eyes. 

“We should go,” Aelin whispered, deftly tucking Rowan’s shirt back into place. 

He raised a brow. “Do we have to?” 

“I want to show you off, husband.” She kissed the corner of his jaw. “Please?” 

“Anything for you, love.” He laced his fingers with hers and led her down the hallway and through the double doors into the event space, where their family and friends were gathered. 

Lysandra leaned into the microphone in her hand as the couple walked in. “Mr. and Mrs. Whitethorn, everyone!” she whooped. 

And the crowd went wild.

~~~

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[flnpushy]

Classic repost 2

all birth stories

My Old Story: A hard birth and rebirth It had been a long 9 months for Kate carrying her baby, but the big day had arrived. It was time to birth. The morning started out normal with Kate getting up early along with her boyfriend John. She had planned on a midwife attended homebirth, so with the first contractions came a call to the midwife. She was inbound but awhile away. Kate was 18 and this was her first baby. Kate was a small petite girl with brunette hair and blue eyes. Her frame was small and her belly stuck out like a basketball. She was a cute pregnant girl. John had impregnated her 9 months earlier after they had purchased a home together. This was the next big step for them as a couple. After many appointments the baby was confirmed a healthy girl, but the baby was bigger then expected. At last estimate over 10 pounds was to be likely. For Kate this wasn’t good news as this was her first baby. She was small, but her baby wasn’t. As the morning drew on Kate’s contractions grew stronger. As she prepared a small lunch the midwife Amy had arrived. “Feeling pushy yet?” asked Amy. “Yeah I feel things are changing in there quite fast, it feels like the baby has dropped.” Replied Kate. “Good, lets do an examination.” Amy requested. Kate crawled into bed and pulled down her panties. Amy put on a glove and lubed it. “Ok, open wide.” Amy asked Kate drew her legs open revealing her vagina. It looked soft and supple. Her labia was smooth and clean. She was in her prime. Amy reached in. “Bit of pressure as I check the cervix.” Amy said. “Ouch, yes I can feel it.” Kate said. “You are progressing fast, I feel that you will be through transition soon.” Amy said. Kate continued to work through the pain. She layed in bed and had John by her side through out the short labor. Finally after two hours of labor it was time to start pushing. Before starting kate went to the bathroom. She sat upon the toilet and let out a small pee. Upon standing up a large gush of fluids rushed from her vagina. “Water broke!” Kate said. “Good deal!” Amy said. “We are making progress now.” Kate returned to bed and crawled in. John felt around her body and played with her nipples to increase contractions. The contractions intensified rapidly, but she hadn’t felt the need to push quite yet. After another 30 minutes kate checked the cervix once again. “Your ready hun, Your at 10 centimeters.” Amy said. “Drawback your legs and push like you are having a poop.” Kate drew back her legs and john helped support them. Kate held her breath and let out a push. She grunted with a moan. “Good Job mama, good push.” Amy said. “And again.” Amy replied. Kate drew back and pushed her little body tensed up as she bore down. As she pushed her body quivered and shook. “Not to hard now kate, Save your energy, you will need all of it to get the baby out.” Amy said. Kate let out her breath. She then awaited the next contraction. Amy reached in Kates vagina and checked the progress. Just up inside past the pubic bone was a hard surface. This was the head. “Ok Kate lets feel your baby inside you.” “Put your fingers in and push back.” Amy said. Kate put her fingers in and felt around, She was able to find the head. “Wow there she is!” Kate said. “So close but yet so far.” “Can I feel my child?” John asked. Kate gave him permission, he put a finger in and felt around. “Yep here she is.” John said. “Amazing.”

The next contraction came. Kate drew back her legs and pushed. Her vagina quivered as she bore down. “Good, and again.” Amy said Kate pushed again and felt the baby move within her.

“Shes definitely moving.” Kate said aloud. The next contraction came and Kate bore down. Amy could see that kate could use a position change. “Lets go to hands and knees to make room for that baby noggan.” Amy said. Kate pulled herself up and got to all fours. She then resumed pushing with the next contraction. The baby inched ever nearer to the opening of her vagina. With a few more pushes Amy noticed something happening. “Ok hun, on this push I’m going to pull your labia back to see where the baby is.” Amy said. As Kate grunted, Amy pulled back Kates labia to reveal a tiny patch of brown hair. “I see a baby noggan in there.” Amy said. As kate ended the push the head slipped back up a ways. As Kate pushed again the head came into view once more. With the end of the push the baby went back into her tummy. The game of in and out was beginning. “Its going to be a forward and back process.” Amy said. “She has to stretch your tissues to get free.” Kate continued to push a few more times without any sign of the baby. Finally she moved back to lying on her back to change the position. She began pushing once more. Amy pulled back on the labia again as Kate pushed. John watched his baby girls head appear in the opening, then slowly disappear back into Kates tummy. “How long will she go back and forth?” John asked. “Could be 10 minutes, Could be 3 hours.” Amy said. “All depends on size and how well she stretches out.” “This being a first born and a big baby it could take some serious time to get her out.” Amy Said. “I feel bad.” John said. “I put her in in 5 minutes and now she has to struggle for hours to push her out.” “Thats the way it goes.” Amy said. Kate pushed again. This time without assisting the labia the head was visible. But as the push ended the head went back into Kate. Amy positioned a mirror so that Kate could see the progress that she was making. Kate pushed hard revealing the babies head in her tiny slit. As she ended the push, the head went back in. Kate rubbed her tiny tummy. “Come out baby, Pop out of my tummy.” Kate said. “Its ok kate, push and stretch.” Amy said. “Why wont she just slide out.” Kate said. “Your a small girl hun, Its going to take time to get that big head out of your tummy!” Amy said. “I just want her out.” Kate said. “You have to push her out.” Amy said. “Thats the way it is.” Kate grunted and pushed hard revealing the head once more. The push kept the baby down but as she stopped the head went back in. She tried again. Kate bore down and the head appeared in the opening. She grunted and struggled a bit, only for the head to go withdraw into her tummy once more. “Can you pull her out?” Kate asked. “No you have to push her out, Its impossible to pull a baby out, Its too slippery.” Amy said. “Have you named the baby yet?” Amy asked. “Well we know its a girl so we decided on Rachel.” Kate said. “Good rachel, Slide out of mommies tummy.” Amy said. Kate pushed again. This time a bit more head came into view. But as the push ended the head stayed in view. However with a quick leg movement from Kate the head went back in. “Back in again.” John said. “Shes just not ready to come out yet.” Amy said. “It takes time.”

“Maybe its time to stretch your legs and walk a bit, it’ll help things along. “ Amy said. “Can I even walk with a head in my vagina?” Kate asked. “Yes you can, it will feel weird, but it will help position the head better.” Amy said. Kate stood up as she watched her vagina close. The baby went well back into her tummy, the only place it knew. Kates warm womb was where the baby wanted to be. Kate was ready for a baby, but her body had other plans. Her tight vagina ensured the baby wasn’t going to escape anytime fast.

After a quick walk around the house kate returned to bed. She began to relax and work with her contractions. She then began pushing again. Kate pulled back her legs and dug her toes into the mattress. Her vagina looked like it was moving, but the first push brought forth no head. She pushed again. Little movement. The next push however brought forth some hair into the vaginal opening. With the end of the push however the hair disappeared. The contraction was over. Kate relaxed. She reached a hand down and put a finger in her vagina. She could feel the babies head just inside a little ways. Her finger moved up and down the head. Feeling its every form. She could feel her baby, it was so close to the world but yet so stuck in her tummy. The skin around the head was tight and firm, clenching and holding the baby firmly in her. She withdrew her hand as another contraction started. She bore down as hard as she could manage. The head came into the slit of her opening, it stayed as she pushed, the head shook and quivered as she struggled to push it free. The push ended and the head slid back in. It was close but yet still within her. She tried again, this time the baby came down farther, and the head stayed in the opening as the push ended. Kate quickly pushed again as to attempt to hold the baby down there. It worked temporarily, but as the contraction ended and the head very slowly retracted back out of sight and back in.

“Poor baby girl don’t wanna come out of there!” Amy said. “She likes your warm little tummy.” The next push came and went. The head remained in her belly. “Ok hun lets try holding those pushes a bit longer. “ Amy said. “I’ll help you push.” Amy put her finger in kates vagina.

“Ok big push kate, big push.” Kate bore down and held her push. The head slowly reared itself from the vagina. “Good girl, good, push that tiny tummy.” Kate bore down again and the head made some progress. “Ok, good, good. Get that little noggan out!” Another push brought the head out a tad farther. The contraction ended and the head slid back. Slowly and gracefully the head retracted into kates vagina and back into her tiny cute little tummy. “Get out now baby!” Kate said. “This is so frustrating.” “Its ok, calm down kate, this is what babies do.” Amy said. “Its just so stupid.” Kate said. “Ive been struggling for hours.” “It will happen hun some babies are harder to get out then others.” Amy said. “Now bear down and push those tummy muscles.” Kate bore down as hard as she could, she grunted and groaned to free her baby. As she pushed her little belly button protruded from her. It was a cute sight as she worked so hard. The next push showed some progress. The head was coming more into view now with each contraction. As the head came farther it was becoming aparent just how big this little noggan was. Kate was birthing a huge baby girl, and she was in no hurry to come out. The rest in between contractions had the baby sitting just in the slit opening of kates vagina. As the next contraction began the head remained stationary in the vagina. As much as kate struggled and pushed, the baby made no progress. Kate was getting frustrated. “I think I need a moment.” Kate said. “A moment?” Amy asked. “Yeah can I just have a moment alone.” Kate replied. “Of course.” Amy said.

John and Amy departed the room and went to the kitchen. Meanwhile Kate Layed back and contemplated her situation. She had a large baby stuck in her vagina and even the hardest of pushes weren’t making much progress. She Relaxed and regained her strengh. Fifteen minutes later she groaned loudly, this prompted Amy to return. John remained away to give Kate some space. Amy checked on Kates progress. Kate opened her legs to expose and empty vaginal opening. The baby had retracted back into her. The hard work had slipped away. Amy reached in to check on the baby. She inserted a finger to check the head. She had to insert quite a ways before she found the head. Way in Kates tummy was Rachels head.

“Looks like the baby went back home on us.” Amy said. “Its time for some coached pushing to get this baby out.” Kate drew up her legs and Amy began the coaching. “Ok hun, Hard push and hold.”

Kate pushed and held as best she could. The push ended. “Good, Go again.” Amy said. Kate pushed harder this time. The baby was making rapid movement forward. “Good job mommy, Press again.” Amy said. Kate pushed harder yet. This time her vagina began to bulge. The head was coming in fast. Kates contraction ended. Amy pulled back the labia skin to see the baby as it retracted back in. “Your baby loves your tummy.” Amy said. “I think she would rather stay in.” “No she has to come out.” Kate said. “Ok lets get that noggan out.” Amy said. Kate drew back and pushed. The head now came into view. She pushed again and the head distended farther out. “Good momma, good push, Get that tummy pushin.” Amy said. Kate pushed again. The head was now really making progress. “Oh, Oh, Oh my god the sting!” Kate yelled out. “”Ring of fire hun, its happening, Work through it.” Amy said. Kate pushed again and the head progressed. Kates vagina was now protruding quite a way from her body, but the head was still within the labia. The contraction ended, the babies head moved back a bit but not to far. As the next contraction came the head moved out slightly, but remained pressed in the labia. The next push made little progress. The finally push of the contraction brought forth some blood. This was good as the tissues were stretching to allow the head to slip free. As the contraction ended the baby receded back in a bit. Kate relaxed her muscles and the head reacted. The head started to go back in toward the tummy. Kate pushed in protest, but without a contraction it was little to stop the baby. The vagina tensed up as the baby slipped back into her. “That little bum is still In your tummy!” Amy said. “Its ok kate. She is stretching you.” “This is torturous.” Kate said. Kate felt a contraction and pushed. the head quickly returned and within two pushes was back to where it was. The head came farther out on the third push, and remained stationary. The contraction ended and the head recessed back a bit. “We need a position change.” Amy said. Kate got up to all fours position. The head was just inside and visible. She began pushing again and again. The head protruded and retracted for several more contractions. Finally the crown had fully begun. The tips of the babies ears were starting to come into view as the contraction ended. Kate switched back to lying down just as the baby shifted back into the vagina. She pushed again and more ear came into view. Another push started to bring the forehead. As the contraction ended the head recessed back a bit slowly. The forehead slipped back, the ears faded away. Kate tried to stop it retracting by reaching down and holding onto the head, but her muscles were to strong. The head came out of the crown and went back farther. Her vagina tensed again and the head retracted farther yet. “NO, NO, NO GET OUT OF MY TUMMY NOW!” Kate yelled.

The head slipped back in farther and out of view. Back into Kate. “Ive been doing this for many years and never seen a baby retract that far.” Amy said. “I think we have a shoulder issue or a hand in the way.” Amy tucked a finger in under the babies head and pulled. A tiny little hand was there. She tugged at the hand and pushed it back under the head in a new position. Kate pushed and the baby made rapid progress. In three pushes the baby was starting to crown again. The next contraction brought her farther and farther. Soon she was back to the ear tips. Then the forehead came free. One more big push brought some eyes and an nose. “Shes on her way now!” Amy said. Kate pushed again and the babies head finally came free. “Yes!” kate said. “My baby.” John reentered the room to see his daughters head hanging out of Kates vagina. He rejoined Kate by her side. Kate gathered strength and pushed hard. The head quivered a bit but didnt move. Another push came and went with no movement. Finally the head rotated and the shoulders engaged. Kate tried bearing down but not much movement happened. The baby began making small noises as Kate pushed. Kate pushed again. No movement. The baby lets out some small cries. All of a-sudden the babies shoulders disengaged and the head retracts tight to Kates vagina. The shoulders are indefinitely stuck. Another contraction comes and the head is pressed tighter against her. The force is so strong the head actually starts to retract back in the vagina. “Oh my god, whats happening? Kate asks. “I have never seen this before, the shoulders were stuck but it seems your body is reacting to it.” Amy said.” “The baby is going back in!” “BACK IN!?!” Kate yells out. “You mean I have to birth the head twice?” “Its ok, its ok, It will all work out in the end.” Amy reassured. “Your baby likes that cute little tummy of yours a bit to much.” “I WANT HER OUT!” Kate wails. “It will happen, just let it happen.” Amy says. The baby slowly retracted again as a contraction hit. The baby cried a bit as it slowly got sucked back in. Kate winced and groaned as the babies head slowly recedes back into her tummy. The baby let out another series of tiny cries. “Poor little thing, cant get out of mommies tummy.” Amy says. The head was almost back to crown, as the mouth starts to go in the baby lets out one last cry before being silenced by skin. The nose and ears slowly disapear back into the vagina. The head then slips back in farther and eventually all the way back in. The crown disapears. The baby is back in kates tummy. The baby kicks around inside her as if to get free once more. Kates vagina looks as if a baby had never departed it. A few minutes later a contraction hits and the process starts over. Kate begins pushing back to crown. The head comes forth, then recedes with the push. Kate goes again and again until finally the tiny head starts to make an appearance. However this time something has changed. Instead of a hairy head a forehead and lips appear in the vagina. The baby is coming face first! As Kate pushed the face moves ever closer to the opening. The next push brings the face to crown. The baby lets out a tiny cry as kate pushes. Next the babies eyes begin to open for the first time. “Shes peeking!” Amy says. “Keep pushing mommy.” The babies eyes blink as the contraction ends. The baby slowly recedes back again. The baby takes one last look at the light before the vagina covers it once more. The babies nose is the only thing sticking from the vagina. The nose suddenly makes a noise. “The baby is trying to breathe!” Amy yells. “Legs back now, push as hard as possible, She needs out!” Kate drew back and pushed, the head surges forward and in a painful rush comes free. The baby begins to cry loudly and needs to get free. “Hard, hard, hard!” Amy yells. Kate gave it her all and the baby finally slips the shoulders free and comes out into the world.

Kate was elated at her accomplishment, and happy to finally be a mom.

[skelavender]

“What do you think, Scully?” He inquires. “You were right.” His smile spreads across his face slowly, and he drops his head to let out a relieved chuckle before looking back at her. “Well there’s something you don’t say to me often. It’s the house?” She nods, “Yeah, Mulder, it’s the house.”

read chapter four of shelter on ao3, or below the cut! plus, bonus content over here!

March 1996

When Scully gets to her apartment after a hair appointment, she’s greeted by the smell of baking bread. Mulder stands in her kitchen, spooning spaghetti into two bowls. He’s wearing a goddamn apron. Scully tries really, really hard not to stare, and even harder not to think about him at the stove wearing nothing but an apron. She fails on both counts. 

“What’s all this?”

“Dinner.” He replies simply, “How was the salon?”

“It was fine. I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Even I can make pasta, Scully. But the real pièces de résistance,” He opens the oven and lifts out a sheet pan of golden garlic bread, “Is right here.”

“Oh my God, that smells amazing.”

Queequeg yaps in the distance and comes running in from the bedroom to greet Scully. She crouches down to say hello.

“I’m going to walk him, I’ll be right back.” Scully reaches for the wardrobe where the leash hangs.

“I already did.”

“Really?”

“What, that’s so surprising?”

“Well you two aren’t exactly each other’s biggest fans.”

“We have a couple things in common. You, for example. A love of bacon. The occasional hankering for human flesh.”

Scully rolls her eyes and a small laugh, “Well, thank you Mulder. I appreciate it.”

“Have a seat.” Mulder pulls Scully’s usual chair out for her, and she slides into it. He places the bowls on the table, pasta now accompanied by fresh garlic bread. 

“Seriously, Mulder, What’s the occasion?”

Mulder gives her his Christmas tree smile, the one that lights up his entire face, the room, the fucking world. He plucks a newspaper out of the pocket of his apron and slides it across the table to her. “I found the house.”

Her eyebrows lift. “The house?”

“The house, Scully. Our house. It’s technically only two beds, but it has a finished basement space that would work as an office.”

“Another basement office?”

He shrugs. “I thought it was poetic.”

She scans the circled listing. He’s right; the house would be perfect for them. Right in their price range, a good neighborhood, two bedrooms and an office space. 

Not having taken a bite, Mulder rises from the table, “And the real estate agent emailed me more photos, if I can use your computer.”

“Of course.” She doesn’t even look up from the newspaper. When he indicates he has it pulled up with a “Here, Scully,” she follows him and leans over the screen, hand on the back of the chair. 

“You’re gonna love it, Scully, it’s on a quiet road, stained glass on the front door, there’s this detailing on the crown molding I think you’ll like–”

Scully interrupts as she clicks through the photos. “It’s beautiful,” she says breathlessly. She moves her hand from the chair to his shoulder, and he turns to look up at her with that beautiful, bright smile.

“You like it?”

“I love it, Mulder. It’s a little small, but it’s exactly what we need.”

“The real estate agent has time for a tour first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Book it.”

Mulder plucks the phone out of its cradle and dials. 

Once the appointment is set for the following day, they settle at the table and tuck into their meals. When Scully takes her first bit of garlic bread, she outright moans. Mulder’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

“God, Mulder, where did you learn to bake?” He blushes and turns his head down to focus intently on his plate, but doesn’t respond. “What, is there a story there? An old flame?” She tries to act like her stomach doesn’t twist at the concept of him making her another girl’s garlic bread recipe. 

He laughs lightly and twirls his pasta, “Oh yeah, Scully. Older woman, short, brunette.” He finally looks up at her. “Your mom taught me. When you were gone.”

“Oh.” Scully’s a little taken aback by this. “I didn’t know you two were… that close. Neither of you have mentioned it.”

“I mean, we don’t have weekly phone calls or anything. But I think having someone else around who loved you was really helpful for the both of us.”

Scully feels a little but like she’s been stabbed, as if Mulder’s words have taken a physical form and sliced through her flesh. His tone is affectionate, but the pain from their implication is ice cold. 

It's easy, sometimes, to forget that he grieved for her. Her mother too. She would rather not have to think about her chair empty in their office, of whichever one of them let themselves in to water her plants, of a gravestone that was engraved but never laid. She doesn’t want to think of either of them in that kind of pain. 

“So she taught you to bake?”

Mulder nods, “At first she started showing up with casseroles and stuff. I think someone from your church must have set up one of those dinner trains, but didn’t take into account that she’s one person so they sent too much. I felt like everything was out of my control, and she had me knead the bread when I came over for dinner once, and it was something that I could control.” He takes in a shaky breath, “I think she needed someone to take care of, since she couldn't take care of you. And I certainly needed it.”

“I’m sorry I put you two through that, Mulder. I’m glad you had each other.”

He huffs, “Don’t apologize for that, Scully. It’s not your fault. You were abducted.”  

Scully gives him a very sincere look and nods, biting her lip, and returns her eyes to her plate. After a couple more moments of eating in silence, Scully speaks. “I don’t suppose she gave you her pot roast recipe too? Bill and I have been trying to get that out of her for years.”

Mulder laughs. “No, just the bread. Don’t go expecting Christmas cookies or birthday cakes, Scully, that’s beyond my capabilities.”

After they’ve both had their fill, Mulder convinces Scully to leave the dishes for later and relax on the couch. He flips the channel to Jeopardy, which is just starting. 

“C’mon, Scully” Mulder says when she settles next to him, pulling her lightly until her head is in his lap and she’s laid out longways across the couch. She complies. “Remember when we came across that man in black who was Alex Trebeck’s doppelganger?”

“No I don’t, Mulder, because as far as I’m concerned, you snuck into my room without being invited,” she teases.

“Scully, I swear to god, they looked exactly alike.”

“Alright, honey.” She pats his leg affectionately. 

Onscreen, Alex Trebek reads out the category names. When he gets to the last one, and announces it as “The ‘Ex’ Files,” Scully sits up in shock.

“Did he just–”

“Yes.”

They stare at each other in silence for a moment.

“Okay, Mulder, I concede. There is a slight possibility that Alex Trebeck is a man in black.” 

***

The first thing that catches Scully’s eye, unsurprisingly, is the stained glass window on the front door. It’s floral, cast in pinks, purples, and greens, and contrasting the dark wood of the door and porch. 

As soon as she steps inside, she can see it. She knows then that it was the right house. A domestic scene blooms before her. She can see her couch in the living space, Mulder’s round table near the kitchen, right under another stained glass window, this one of a bee. She can see books stacked on the counters, case files spread on the coffee table as she sits on the floor inspecting them, with Mulder behind her laying across the couch. She can see their future. The one she wants them to have together. 

When she turns to look at Mulder, he’s already looking at her, like if he inspects her expression close enough he can tell exactly what domestic fantasies are playing out in her head. Maybe he can.

Something rises up in Scully’s chest. It’s safety, it’s rightness, it’s comfort. And it’s all Mulder. 

“What do you think, Scully?” He inquires.

“You were right.”

His smile spreads across his face slowly, and he drops his head to let out a relieved chuckle before looking back at her. “Well there’s something you don’t say to me often. It’s the house?”

She nods, “Yeah, Mulder, it’s the house.”

They come together in an embrace, and Mulder drops a kiss to her head. She tightens her arms around his waist. 

“I hate to interrupt,” The real estate agent interjects, “But it sounds like you two want to put in an offer?”

They don’t even separate to respond. Mulder’s voice is rough with emotion when he says “Yes.”

***

Mulder does the paperwork for once in his life, and miraculously, the house is theirs a month later. Mulder informs Scully of this fact by waltzing into the office and dropping a ring with two keys onto the file on the desk in front of her. 

She looks up at him and raises a single eyebrow in confusion. “What’s this?”

“Your set of house keys.”

“Already? How?”

“I know a guy who knows a guy.” Mulder takes a seat on the desk. “Do you want to play hooky and go visit?”

“You’ve already missed hours of work, Mulder–”

“C’mon, Scully, live a little. It’s not every day you buy a house.”

She bites at her lip, trying to prevent the smile from forming, but he knows he has her. He grabs the keys and her hand and pulls her out of the office, a peel of laughter trailing after them.

By the time Mulder pulls into the driveway, their driveway, Scully’s smile is uncontrollable, beaming. He resists the urge to ask if he can carry her over the threshold. 

Scully steps into the main room and turns slowly, taking in the space. It’s even more gorgeous than the first time they visited. When she faces Mulder again, a giggle bursts from her and she leans toward him.

“We have a house.” She reaches out to him, “Mulder, we own a house.” He gathers her in his arms and lifts her up, matching her joy. 

With Scully in his arms, the moment shifts from bubbly to tender. “We have a house.” He mumbles into the seam of her neck and shoulder as he clings to her body. He sets her back on the ground, wary of her death-trap heels. When he stands back up straight, his gaze falls on her parted lips before drifting to her eyes. It's then that he notices her own eyes are squarely on his lips.

For a brief moment, he wonders if she’s going to kiss him. To take her hands where they now lay on the back of his neck and guide his face down to hers. He wonders how their height difference would change things, having only ever kissed her in the car where it was reduced. He would beg to find out, beg for her to kiss him.

She doesn’t. She shifts her hands to the sides of his face and rubs her thumbs across his stubble tenderly. This is enough for now. It has to be. 

If Mulder looks at the facts on paper, he’s damn successful. He has what just about every man wants; a beautiful wife, with whom he has just bought a home. But with the complexities of real life, what he really has is a partner who hides her ring and a roommate at 34 years old. 

But he thinks, sometimes, that he can feel the outline of a them forming. They already are a them in many ways, but recently there have been more moments that spark a glimmer of hope in his chest. Hope that maybe his love is requited, that Scully might feel the same way. But he knows that if something were ever to happen between them, something real and undeniable, it would have to be Scully’s move. She needs to have control over when and how, and he’s absolutely fine with giving it to her. It’ll happen eventually. He can wait. She’s worth it. 

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[bluandtherestlesshands]

Heartstrings

Chapter Twenty Two: Aftermath

For Mature Audiences

CW: Some medical talk. Discussion of pregnancy and appointment.

In the Soul Society, in the medical center of Squad Four, any of the injured from the battle were being treated. In a specially marked room, Chisei laid unconscious in one of the beds. Her injuries were bandaged or stitched up, and her wrist was set in a cast. She slowly opened her eyes, the bright light making her wince. Standing by the window, looking outside, she noticed the white captain Haori first.

”Captain..? Who…” She groaned uncomfortably, when she stirred pain shot through her hip and she sucked in a breath. “Ow…”

”Been a while since someone called me that…” The man said, blonde hair shifting while he turned to give one of his signature grins. “Though it’s nice hearing it come from you.”

”Wh- Shinji?” Chisei blinked, rubbing at her eyes with her good hand. “What are you- Where…?”

”Not bad, right? Guess the battle helped to clear our names. A lot of us got our old jobs back.” He approached her bedside, shrugging. “Some of us stayed behind in Karakura Town. I’m sure you’ll see them eventually, you had a lot of people worried after your little stunt…”

”And… What happened with..?”

”Ichigo and Kisuke managed to do it. Central 46 is sentencing Sosuke in the next few days. We shouldn’t have to worry about him.” The man smirked, “Though from what I heard he had quite the meltdown… Wish I could’ve seen that.”

Chisei felt tears start to fall from her eyes, she kept opening her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Averting her eyes, a smile came across her face. She wiped her eyes, so many thoughts rushing through her head.

”I… Wow… He really did it…” She finally managed, “I’m…”

”Free? Feels good, doesn’t it?” He sat himself on the edge of her bed, his smile falling. “That said, you do still have a reminder of him…” When she looked up, Shinji pointed towards her stomach. “They confirmed it when you were brought here for treatment…”

”Right…” The brunette looked down, she sighed and shook her head. “…What’s going to happen to me? You have to know something…”

”We’re figuring that out, so far it’s looking like you’ll stay in the Soul Society.” Shinji’s gaze was still fixed on her stomach, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Aizen could have done to traumatize the woman. “For now, you’ll be here. Though I’d like to break you out for the festival happening, if you feel up to it…”

”Right… Wait, Festival?” Chisei looked confused.

”They’re having one to celebrate the win over Sosuke. You can’t drink with us, but maybe it’ll cheer you up to be around some friendly faces.” He chuckled, taking a moment, then his hand hesitated to cup her cheek. Looking deep into her eyes, there was nothing but longing and concern on his face. “… You remember what you said to me out there?”

The woman blinked for a moment, she was lost in his eyes. Then, the memory hit her. Chisei blushed, which made his smile widen. “Yeah… I remember… I… I still feel that way.” She admitted, “We really need to talk about us, don’t we?”

“Yeah, dropping an ‘I love you’ on a battlefield after you dumped me is quite a turn… But, if it helps the cause…” He leaned closer to her. “Before everything happened, I was waitin’ on you to say it first.”

“What- Shinji are you serious!?” The woman huffed, “Ugh… Of course we were both being stubborn…”

”Sounds par for the course for us, doesn’t it?” Shinji laughed, now just inches from her face. “That said… Am I going to be punched if I kiss you right now?”

Chisei paused, eyes flicking between his eyes and his lips, and that grin she so dearly missed. She moved forward by only an inch, that being enough of a cue for him to close the gap. He held her face while the kiss stayed sweet and gentle, despite how much he wanted to give her so much more.

”Captain Hirako, you shouldn’t be stealing her air.” A woman’s voice surprised the two lovebirds, making Shinji back away in fright. “Miss Kudake, I take it you are feeling better?”

”S-Sorry, Captain Unohana…” He said with a grimace.

”It is good that you are here. I expect to discharge her today.” Unohana stepped in, “Please give us some privacy while I check her injuries. I will call you back in once I’m finished to go over discharge plans.”

”Yes Ma’am…” Shinji gave Chisei a small look, something close to the effect of ‘I’ll be nearby’ as he stepped out. He closed the door on the way out, and Unohana stepped over to the Quincy’s bed.

”You were very lucky, Miss Kudake. If he had cut a centimeter over in either direction, you could have bled out from your injury.” She said, “Are you able to stand?”

”Y-Yeah, let me…” Chisei carefully freed herself from the blankets, wincing and holding back a moan of pain as she stood up beside the bed. “Ouch…”

”I need to move your clothing. Try to hold still.” The Captain carefully, but directly, opened the bottom part of the white patients’ kimono the woman was in. She draped the garb over the top of her hip, revealing the bandages and the woman’s entire thigh. “You had a previous injury here, correct?”

”Oh- Yeah.” She looked down, watching as the bandages began to unravel with a careful steady hand. “That’s from… Before I met you all the first time.” Chisei explained.

”It does look like it wasn’t caused by a blade or weapon. In surgery there was some scar tissue we weren’t expecting to see.” Unohana noted. “Work related?”

”Piece of equipment left in the long jump sand pit… Someone else’s mistake led to my season being cut short.” Chisei sighed, “Is… Is this injury going to cause problems too..?”

”It normally wouldn’t, but many people I see with a hip injury are not expecting…” She set aside the soiled bandages, using her hands to check the entry wound. “Depending on how much you can do to strengthen that joint before your body starts to change, it should only be a matter of time. I would like for your hip to be stronger before your child arrives.”

”… Right…” She looked away, wincing as the Captain went around to the back of her thigh and touched at the exit wound. “Uh, Captain Unohana? What are they planning to do about my… M-My baby?”

”It must be difficult to be in your position, left with child.” The black-haired woman pulled away to speak directly to Chisei. “However, it has been decided to give you the choice. Several Captains felt strongly that in spite of the child’s lineage, that does not mean the child is a threat when separated from that influence. There is also talk that your nature would ensure that there is not a repeat… I have also heard that if you were to terminate, it would not be held against you.”

As soon as she said the word terminate, Chisei’s eyes watered again. She took a few breaths, shaking her head quickly. “I-I can tell you this at least… I’m not terminating..” She said. “I… I lost one while I was with him. I don’t want to go through that pain again.”

”Understood.” Unohana applied a small amount of salve to the injuries, then proceeded to start bandaging up her thigh again. “Your wrist, is that comfortable? I did not see any bruising or swelling when I came in…”

”Yeah, it’s… It’s alright.” Chisei said, “Hurts a lot less…”

”Good. Thankfully it was a simple break, you should be healed in a few weeks. Until then, rest will be important.” As she secured the bandage, she fixed the woman’s kimono and patted it down gently. “As it will be with your hip. Rest to heal the injury, we will go over strengthening at a later time.”

”R-Right…” She knew exactly what she meant by putting emphasis on rest. What else could she mean, with a guy standing outside waiting for her?

”Captain Hirako, you may join us now.”

The door clicked open, and ordinarily she would have expected him to make some joke but it seemed he wasn’t in the mood with the other captain nearby. Chisei looked down and cradled her injured arm, only looking back up when Unohana stood fully.

”Her injuries will recover in time, there is no need for further treatment.” She stated, “For now it will be proper rest, and checking the healing process as she comes in for regular appointments for her pregnancy.”

”Alright… Regular wound care, I think we can manage that.” Shinji said, his eyes glanced to her stomach again. “What do we know about her condition?”

”So far, Miss Kudake is roughly at four weeks. It is still very early on, and many of the early symptoms should still be present - Morning sickness and mood swings that should go away once her body stabilizes with the change.” Unohana said, then smiled when she turned to Chisei. “Despite the physical injury, both mother and child are quite healthy. We can be grateful they were well taken care of in that regard.”

Chisei saw Shinji flinch uncomfortably at this, she wasn’t feeling too great herself with any praise going towards Aizen… At least she knew it was more the Arrancar he led that did the heavy lifting. “So, when should I come back..?”

”Let’s plan for two weeks. Also, I should make you aware of this…” The woman put a hand on Chisei’s shoulder. “My Lieutenant and I alone will be in charge of your care. Due to the nature of your condition, we wish to keep as few eyes on your pregnancy as possible.”

”Right…” Chisei took a breath and sat down for a moment, wincing at the pain in her hip. “S-Sorry, I need a minute… Feel like I’m gonna…”

The Captain smiled, she eased the woman down. “I’ll give you some medications when you’re discharged to help with that feeling. Captain Hirako?”

”Uh, yes Ma’am’-?” Shinji was practically sweating, everything about him screamed that he wanted out.

”I trust you will be able to help out Miss Chisei if need be?”

”Of course…” He walked over to Chisei, letting the medical Captain step aside. Chisei could see he was increasingly uncomfortable as they mentioned the baby. To be fair, she was too! Nobody was envious of her position here.

”I’ll prepare a small bag for you. I don’t know if you’d want anything from there, but, under your bed there is a bin full of the clothes you were found in.” Unohana walked towards the door, not turning as she added, “The pouch however was confiscated. Captain Kurotsuchi is researching your creation. He should speak to you on the matter at another time.”

”Th-Thank you Captain.” Chisei tried to smile, though when the door closed it dropped and she started to breathe heavily. “Is it just me or did this all become very real??”

“Crap, don’t panic-! She might come back in!” Shinji wasn’t always on his game when it came to tact, but with his mind scattered he was even worse. He crouched down and held her hand, trying to rub it soothingly. “That can’t be good for you right now, damn it…”

”I-I’ll be fine, it’s… Wow. Just, wow.” She laughed nervously, tears in her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m here… Thought my situation was bad before, but look at me now…”

”Listen to me, Chisei, you’ll be okay.” He stood up, now holding her shoulders while he spoke to her. “You’re gonna be just fine and this’ll be over before you know it.”

”It’s not like this all ends when I have the child!” Chisei retorts, “There’s still raising it, and gods, people are going to treat it like a monster…”

”We’re not gonna let that happen, okay? You two are gonna be fine and I’ll make sure of it myself.” Shinji wiped away her tears with his thumbs. “C’mon, stop cryin’… You’ve done enough of that today. It’s okay.”

”I’m sorry, I’m just scared…” Now the woman really began to break down, all while Shinji was cupping her face. “For me, for this… This kid… I don’t want to make a mistake…” She sniffled, and Shinji could only sigh as he pressed his forehead against hers, doing his best to calm her.

”Shhhhh…. We can figure it out.” He reassured her, speaking softly through her cries. “I’m gonna do everything I can to keep you with me, okay Doll? For now though, you’re still safe. Both of you. We can’t change what happened, but I won’t let anything happen to you. I love you.”

Chisei slowly looked at him, her face all puffy as she whimpered out a rather pitiful “I love you too” before pulling him into a hug - carefully. Shinji wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, cradling the back of her head. He continued to shush her, lips pressed against her hair. His eyes wandered through the room, but he remembered something as he pulled away from her.

”Doll, your cross.” He motioned to her cast. “Let’s get that, okay?”

”Right… Is it with my clothes?” Chisei asked, wiping her eyes as she looked down.

”Let’s see…” Shinji looked down underneath the bed and pulled out the bin, with the cross right on top. At least they took care to not lose it or give it away. “Here we are! Now, how to have you wear it…”

She was still busy wiping her eyes, Shinji eyed the cast while he pondered, but then noticed the length of the chain. He smiled a bit, taking the cross and coming up behind her on the other side of the bed. She had no idea what he was planning, but then saw the cross come down past her face and to her neck. The man took care in moving her hair out of the way, letting her wear the cross as a necklace instead. “Probably can’t fight with it like this, but as far as we’re all concerned you’re not battling anyone.” He rubbed at her shoulders, leaning over her to kiss her ear. “Besides… It looks pretty there, doesn’t it?”

Chisei touched the cross with her fingertips, it sat just above her collarbone. She nodded, then had to laugh. “One little cross… That was all it took to change everything.” She said sadly.

Shinji wrapped his arms around her from behind, one of his hands moving to cover hers. He rested his chin on her shoulder. “It got you all sorts of attention, but… If you think about it, I don’t think we would’ve started seein’ each other without it.” He said, giving her hand a small squeeze. “We may not have seen each other after that night at the club… It would’ve been like two completely different worlds… Not so much that way now.”

The woman nodded, and she remembered the sting those words left before. She linked their fingers together, watching them together. He followed suit, admiring their hands just as they had done before. When waking up beside each other and fighting off sleep for as long as they could, tangled together in his narrow bed…

”Hey Shinji?”

”Yeah?”

”Things aren’t… Going to be like before, are they?” She gave him a knowing glance.

”Some of it will stay the same. Other things, well, the location will be different…” Shinji thought aloud. “There’s gonna be some new challenges, but nothing we can’t handle. Can’t get much worse than where we’ve been… I think things will be different between us too. Seems like you already know that though…”

”Yeah… Very different…”

”I’m willing to make things work… What do you think?”

”I’ve gotta be honest… I don’t think I stopped thinking about you while I was there…” Chisei admitted, looking away, “Every time I thought I was happy there, I realized how effortlessly it came with you. Like I didn’t have to try.”

”Really?” The blonde lifted his head, “Not sure if I should feel a sense of pride that you were still thinking of me, or if I should be disgusted you had to fake it with him.”

”Ugh, don’t go there…” She shook her head, and Shinji released her when there was a knock at the door. “Captain-!”

”I’ve given you enough nausea medication to get you through to your next appointment. There are also bandages in here, and some pain medication. The pain medication is safe for the baby, so please do not go without. We will do everything to make you comfortable while you recover.” Unohana said, but as she approached the two she handed the bag of supplies to Shinji. “On your way out, please schedule your next appointment with myself and my Lieutenant. I’d like her to sit in on the first official one in case she needs to meet with you alone later. Captain Hirako?”

”Uh-! Yes, Captain Unohana..?”

”Will you be in attendance?”

”Uh, well… Guess it depends on if she needs help getting here…” The man said, hoping he didn’t say the wrong thing.

”That’s good. I’ll expect to have you there.”

Chisei stood herself up, and aside from a small wince she was overall stable. She looked to Shinji, who still looked terrified, and gave him a sheepish smile. “Captain Unohana, thank you… I’ll see you soon.” The woman started towards the door, Shinji trailing soon after and wrapping an arm around her back to offer stability.

The young Quincy has no idea what to expect. She didn’t even own the clothes on her back, she was pregnant, and in a land that previously wanted to dissect her. Her Karakura Romance was here for her to rely on, not the father of her baby, but the one who gave her freedom through the hard times. Uncertainties were sure to follow her wherever he was taking her next, for her, for her unborn child, and surely for her family…

At least moving forward, this way, things looked bright.

[greyeyedmonster-18]

(ootd, as we count down the last days of summer and prep for school,

-black tube top

-high waist, ripped boy jeans

-the sun is gone here so i have a shiny burgundy windbreaker that is part of this outfit. very 90's

-black filas

-hair in long dutch braid. rapunzel, rapunzel. sealed with a velvet dark red (not exactly burgundy) scrunchie

-holding onto my tan* skin, eyebrows, mascara

-a book for fun. and a lavendar latte.)

[favefandomimagines]

Why? (t.h.)

Summary: you and tom broke up at the young age of 21, after the success of Captain America: Civil War. now 3 years later, you run into him again with your three year old son

AN: more angst than fluff that’s for sure and here’s a twist: Evans!Reader (i’m also really bad a writing how toddlers sound so use your imagination)

When you imagined having a baby, you thought of the basic evolution of adulthood. Meet, marriage, then kids. Not meet, date for a year and a half, then baby. A baby who you were currently raising on your own. 

The breakup between you and Tom was the opposite of mutual. You didn’t want it. You wanted to be with him even before you got pregnant. But he wanted other things. 

He wanted other people. And that’s the part that broke your heart. 

“I don’t understand. You have never mentioned this before.” You said to him. “Y/N, it’s not you, okay? It’s just, we’re young. We’re 21 years old, our careers are just taking off. Don’t you want to be free?” Tom explained. 

“Free? You think I’m tying you down?” You questioned. “That’s not what I said.” Tom rebutted. “That’s exactly what you said! You think being in a relationship with me is tying you down. Well, fine Tom. If this is what you want, this is what you’ll get.” You snapped. 

You began to pack up everything you could fit in your small, weekender bag. “I’m going home and I never want to speak to you again.” You sneered. “No, Y/N, don’t do this. We can still be friends.” He told you. “No we can’t. Because I can’t be the friend who’s hopelessly in love with a guy who doesn’t love her back.” You said. 

“I do love you-” He started before you cut him off. “Don’t lie to make yourself feel better.” You sneered. You walked to the door of the hotel you were staying in and slammed it shut. 

You were a mess after the breakup. Physically ill is how you described it to people. You never left your room most days and when you did, you glued yourself to the couch. You lived off of Ben and Jerry’s and The Notebook.

Your friends tried to get you out of your apartment. But you didn’t feel like going out and facing the paparazzi. Especially when every time you stood up, you felt sick to your stomach. 

Even your older brother stayed with you most days. He didn’t want you to be alone. 

That’s when your friend suggested something. “When did you get your period?” She asked you. When she asked, you couldn’t remember when. You chalked it being late up to the stress you were feeling because of Tom and being cast in a new TV show. 

But, your friend bought you the test anyways. And it was positive. Your world was crumbling around you and now you had to fend for a baby. Tom told you he wasn’t going to leave you so you didn’t use a condom. And you couldn’t be on birth control because of underlying health issues you had. 

You were pregnant and you were going to have to raise a child by yourself. But your family was there through it all. Chris came to every doctor’s appointment with you, already earning the title of ‘world’s best uncle.’ 

You were about four months along when Kevin Feige called you about shooting an end credit scene for Spider-Man: Homecoming. How were you going to hide a baby bump from the cast and crew? But the only person you needed to keep it from was Tom. He didn’t want you so why should he be apart of the baby’s life? You would ask yourself that simply out of anger. There was no logical reasoning behind it. 

You shot the scene while pregnant and quickly left Atlanta before anyone began asking any questions. The main one being: who’s the dad? 

The night you gave birth, your entire family was at your side. Throughout the entire 20 hour labor before you welcomed a baby boy into the world. Theodore Evans-Holland was the newest member of the family. But Holland was only on the birth certificate. 

__

Three years had passed since you gave birth to Theo and when they said being a working mother was hard, they weren’t lying. Word spread that you got pregnant but the identity of the father unknown by the public. Including Tom. When asked about Theo in interviews you say it was a one night stand with a friend and that you weren’t together romantically. No one questioned a thing. 

On the set of Infinity War and Endgame, your mom brought Theo to visit often. He got to see his mom and his uncle Chris be superheroes.

“And cut! Let’s take a quick break! Y/N needs to go be a mom.” Anthony Russo joked. You smiled brightly at the three year old who was sitting on your makeup artist’s lap. 

You picked him and placed sloppy kisses all over his face, making the little boy laugh. “Are you having fun?” You asked him. “Yes!” He replied loudly. “Uncle Chwis!” Theo yelled, pointing to his uncle across the set. You couldn’t say no to him so you brought him to his uncle who was talking to Chris and Robert. 

Tom watched as you brought your child over to the three men. He didn’t know you moved on so quick. But he didn’t have a right to be mad. He broke up with you, not the other way around. Though a part of him couldn’t help but wish it was his son. 

You and Theo had decided to have a fun day since it was relatively nice in LA. You took him to the zoo and the aquarium before stopping at the Starbucks close to your house as a nice treat. 

Theo was a big fan of their frappucinos. 

You were holding him as he was beginning to get a little bit fussy after such a long day. 

“Y/N?” You heard from behind you. You turned around and saw Tom in the line behind you waiting for his name to be called. “Oh, uh, hi Tom.” You greeted him. “How are you?” He asked. “I’m fine. Just waiting on our order.” You answered. 

“Mommy, that’s spider-man.” Theo whispered to you. “Yes, baby, that is spider-man.” You spoke to him. “Hey little man.” Tom greeted the young boy. “You two have the cutest son. He looks just like his dad.” An older lady commented on the two of you. 

“No, he’s uh, not mine.” Tom quickly corrected her. The lady looked from you back to Tom before giving a pretty fake smile. “We, uh, we have to go. Theo needs a nap.” You said quickly, grabbing your drinks and making your way towards the exit. 

“Y/N, wait!” Tom called. You stopped a turned around to look at him. You and Tom looked at one another for a few moments before he looked at Theo. You could see he was doing the math in his head and analyzing Theo’s facial features. 

It was true though. He did look just like his dad. Same hair, same eyes, he had your nose though. 

“See you around, Tom.” You said breaking the silence before walking back towards your car. 

__

Later that evening, you were sitting on the couch with Theo watching Captain America. It was his favorite movie at the moment because he got to watch uncle Chris be a superhero. 

You were alerted by the sound of the doorbell and wondered who would be at your door at such an odd hour. “Stay here, buddy.” You told your son as you got up to answer the door. 

And when you did, you were very tempted to close it right in his face. Because Tom was standing on your doorstep looking completely distraught. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked. “He’s mine, isn’t he? Theo’s my son.” He said. You were quiet for a moment before you stepped out on to the porch so Theo wouldn’t hear. 

“Yes. Theo is your’s.” You answered quietly. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me?” Tom asked, the anger in his voice very evident. “Because, Tom, you didn’t want me anymore! A kid wasn’t going to change that! It would tie you down even more than I did.” You replied. “I had a right to know. I’m his father.” He said. 

You ran a hand through her hair as you squeezed your eyes shut trying to make the tears go away. 

“You didn’t want me, Tom. You didn’t want to be with me and a kid wasn’t going to magically fix that. Who’s to say you were going to want to be apart of his life if I told you? Like you said that night, we were 21, our careers taking off. I gave you the freedom you asked for.” You spoke. 

“I messed up, okay? I knew that the second I woke up the next morning and you weren’t there next to me. It was stupid of me to even think that. We could’ve been regular 21 year-olds together.” Tom said. “But at the time, you meant it.” You said. 

The silence that fell upon the two of you was awkward and uncomfortable. The only sound coming from the TV inside seeping through the cracked front door. 

“I need to know him. I know I hurt you and it was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. But I need to know my son, Y/N.” Tom begged. 

You looked at the man in front of you and didn’t see who you were in a relationship with three years ago. Maybe because he’s had to grow up faster than the usual person. Or maybe because you had to grow up faster and raise a child. 

“You can meet him. But we need to take this very slow. Theo is my entire world and I will not have him end up heartbroken like I was.” You finally spoke. 

Tom’s eyes lit up at your words and he rapidly nodded his head. You slowly let him into the house, Theo entirely unaware that anything was happening. 

“Hey, bud. There’s someone I want you to meet.” You said to the small boy. You sat down next to him, him taking the liberty of crawling onto your lap. 

He stared at Tom warily, wondering why a stranger was in his house. He knew. that he was spider-man but to him spider-man was a stranger. 

“Theo, you know how I told you that daddy was an astronaut exploring space?” You questioned. Theo nodded his head looking up at you. “Well, he’s back from space now. Theo, I want you to meet your dad.” You told him. 

The brunette boy looked from you up to Tom. “My daddy’s spider-man?” Theo questioned. “Yes, your daddy is spider-man.” You confirmed. “That’s why he was in outer space! Helping Iron Man!” Theo shouted. “That’s right bud. I was gone for a while, but I’m here now.” Tom finally spoke. 

Theo left your lap and launched himself at Tom. You didn’t know you would feel so emotional when Theo finally met Tom as his father. You just thought it wouldn’t be until he was older so you weren’t prepared for it. 

“Are you staying, daddy?” Theo asked the man. Tom felt like all of the oxygen was knocked out of his body when Theo called him that. 

He looked over at you and you reluctantly nodded your head. “Yeah, buddy. I’m staying.” He answered. Theo jumped up and down on the couch before you scolded him. 

“Hey, hey, we don’t jump on couches anymore, remember? Besides, it’s past your bedtime.” You told him. “I wanna show daddy my room.” Theo. “He can put you to bed. Now go get your PJs.” You said. 

Theo got off the couch and ran down the hallway towards his room. “He’s going to want to show you all of his Marvel stuff but only for five minutes. After that, tuck him in with his Black Panther stuffie. Then you have to read him a story or he’ll never fall asleep.” You explained to Tom as you stood up. 

“You did a really good job with him.” Tom commented. “I know.” You smiled fondly. “I don’t have to stay if you don’t want me too.” He said. “You’ll sleep in the spare room. He wants you in his life so you have to be here. And tomorrow, we’ll go get Tessa.” You told him. 

Tom smiled at you as you retreated to the kitchen to pick up a bit before bed. Tom walked down the hallway towards Theo’s room and found him all tucked in bed with various pieces fo Marvel collectibles. 

“Daddy, daddy! Come look at the things mommy and Uncle Chwis got for me!” He said to Tom. Tom happily obliged and sat on the edge of the bed as Theo began to explain what everything was. 

You leaned against the doorframe and observed the two together for a short while. You had a lot of healing to do with Tom but you couldn’t deny the fact that Theo needed his dad, despite Tom’s past mistakes. 

[triplexdoublex]

12:05

Pairing: Colson x Reader

Warnings/tags: smut, cheating, drug use, mentions of foot-fetish, mild blood (nose bleed)

Welcome to my first Colson Baker (MGK) fic. I used a lot of lyrics and lyric references in this. My goal was to make it seem like this toxic relationship and coversations between his and reader are what inspired a lot of his songs.

*************************

“C’mon get up,” your best friend Shawnie nudges you, pulling back the sheets of her bed she’s been kind enough to share with you since the breakup. “It’s almost noon,” 

“Grmmphf,” you groan tugging the sheet back over your head.

“I’m not gonna let you stay in bed all day again, crying over ‘Machine Gun Kelly’,” she says as she raises the shades on the window; the midday sun bright rays beaming through the thin sheet over your head. “It’s been three weeks now, get up. We’re gonna have a girls day.”

“He has a real name, you know,” you mumble from under the sheet. “Colson”

“Oh yes, Colson the compulsive cheater, how could I forget?” She rips back the sheet a final time.”How was he dumb enough to get caught this time?” She emphasizes, knowing it's not the first time you’ve caught him cheating. “Lipstick on his shirt? Hickey?” She taps the bed, “I mean it! Up! I'm taking you out.”

“Ughhh fine,” you prop yourself up. “Nudes on his phone actually. Found them his first night back from tour.” You swing your legs over the edge of the bed with a sigh. “ Do you know that dumbass really tried to convince me they were mine, like I dunno what my own pussy looks like!” You let out a half- amused chuckle.

“Wow, that’s pathetic even for him,” Shawnie rolls her eyes. “I don’t understand why you keep going back to him?”

“I dunno — it’s just..” you rake your hands over your face and into your hair. “I can’t explain it --it’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” Shawnie responds, taking a seat next to you on the edge of the bed. “Seriously, I’m listening. I just wanna help you get over him. I hate seeing you hurt all the time.”

“I feel like I’m addicted to him, like he’s my drug or something,” you admit.

“Except what fun is a drug if you can’t even get high off it and only experience the comedown?” She retorts.

“See that’s just the thing — you don’t know him like I do — there is a high,” you smile as fond memories flood back. “When it’s just me and him, when he’s just ‘Colson’, he makes me feel like I’m on top of the world. He treats me like a princess, he makes me laugh, he makes me feel good about myself, and OH MY GOD the sexxxx!” You whine, “You know I always talk about how good it is,” you laugh. “For real our sexual chemistry is just something I never thought I’d experience with anyone. He makes me feel so comfortable and open and unashamed of the things I’m into, and he shares a lot of the same desires. Everything with him is perfect... until tour starts up again”

“I can understand why all that’s important to you, but what about being faithful? Isn’t that important to you too?” Shawnie questions.

“Of course it is, that’s why I keep breaking up with him! And at first I hate him, I really do. I swear to myself I’ll never even talk to him again, but as the hurt wears away, I start craving him again,” A tear rolls down your cheek. “And then I start questioning myself like was I too hard on him? What do I expect from someone who’s living that rockstar lifestyle, getting high and drunk every night with gorgeous women just throwing themselves at him, ya know?”

“No, that is not your fault, you cannot be held responsible for him giving into temptations on the  road!” Shawnie exclaims in a motherly tone. “If he truly wanted to be faithful to you he would.”

“In Colson’s words he ‘fucks up when he’s fucked up’.” you defend him.

“Well maybe he shouldn’t get fucked up if he can’t keep his dick in his pants!” She expresses loudly.”Don’t make excuses for him... Now come on I’m taking you out today; my treat.” 

“Shawnie, really you don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine”

“Too late I already booked us appointments at the spa, and —” her voice then  shifts to a fast whisper “I may have set up a blind date for you with one of Gabe’s friends Kyle for later on tonight!” She finishes with a cheesy grin.

“Shawnie!!!” You gasp.

“Relax, I’ll be there with Gabe too. It’ll be a double date. We’re meeting at Club Hell at eleven. Now get up and get ready before we're late to our appointment.” 

‘Hell… how fitting. That’s exactly what this nights gonna be,’ you think to yourself. You’ve seen Shawnie’s boyfriends friends before and they’re not exactly your type.They’re  

just a bunch of preppy frat boys who’s penny loafers and crisp button down shirts scream ‘trust fund baby’ and ‘my dads a lawyer’.

*************************

In the passenger seat on the way home from the spa  you look down at your bright pink toes and can’t help but frown.

“What’s the matter?” Shawnie asks, nudging you with her elbow as she drives. “Do you not like the color?”

“No, no. It’s not that. I love the color, and thank you so much for taking me to get them done, it’s just that Colson always used to take me — the man’s a sucker for a fresh pedicure,” you answer smirking to yourself as you recall his peculiar kink.

“That is more than I needed  to know,” Shawnie’s eyes go wide while keeping them fixed on the road.

“Oh please like you don’t know every detail of our sex life already,” you say tapping her leg playfully.

“But feet is where I draw the line!” She exclaims, pointing a finger.

You let out a chuckle,“Well then I guess I shouldn’t tell you about the time he —”

“Blahhh blah blaaaa I can’t hear you!” Shawnie attempts to cover her ear closest to you with her shoulder, keeping her hands on the wheel, making you bust out laughing. “There’s that smile I miss, I knew it was still in there somewhere,” she smiles back at you. “ Seriously, fuck Colson and FUCK feet!” She laughs.

“I thought you didn’t wanna hear about that time,” you tease.

“What is wrong with you!!!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you clutch your stomach in laughter, “I couldn’t pass up that opportunity, you set yourself up for that.” 

***************************

Unfortunately Kyle is pretty much exactly what you were expecting and not at all your type but after a few rounds of drinks you decide to make the best of the night and invite Kyle out onto the  floor to dance  — Shawnie and Gabe to follow, the four of you forming a small circle. Not even five minutes into dancing you spot Colson entering the club with a tall brunette.

You grab Shawnie’s arm. “Look!” you say into her ear trying to be discreet about it.

“Oh my God, of all nights,” She rolls her eyes, “Is that the girl?”

“I dunno I didn’t exactly see her face, remember?”

“Is everything okay?” Kyle interjects, looking confused.

“It’s nothing, just someone I used to know,” you answer, returning to dancing as Colson and the brunette disappeared into the crowd. You were determined to have a good night, if not for yourself than at least for Shawnie. She was trying her best to help you get over Colson and have a good time. 

****************

“Wow, they really pack this place huh?” You yell over the music as the floor starts to get crowded. And as if you spoke too soon one of your elbows collides into someone behind you. Immediately you spin around to apologize. “Oh shit, I’m sorr — Colson!”

“Ah fuck man, why are you here?” Colson rolls his eyes, realizing it’s you.

“I could ask the same thing! I’m tryna have a good night and you gotta show up running shit.”

“Who’s this?” Colson’s date looks up at him annoyed before speaking to you, “Why you talking to my man?”

You throw your head back in laughter. “You’re man? Ha! You’ve got a lot to learn honey. Colson likes to run around. Colson’s everyone’s man! 

“Nah, c’mom,chill, chill,” Colson blocks his date with his arm as she tries to step to you. 

Shawnie reaches for you, pulling you back towards her by your shirt. “Let’s all be adults about this.”

“Fine!” you twist from her grasp. “Just stay away from me and I’ll stay away from you!” You shout at Colson before marching over to the bar. You need another drink. Your friends follow behind and Kyle sits awkwardly in the bar stool next to you. “Sorry about that, that was my ex, wasn’t exactly planning on seeing him here tonight.”

“No worries, seems like a total douche anyways.” Kyle responds.

“Yeah, something like that,” you answer in a daze staring into the crowded dance floor where you find Colson’s sky blue eyes locked on you from across the room. He watches you over the shoulder of his date, her back turned towards you.

“Can I buy you a shot?” Kyle offers.

“Uhh, yeah sure,” you answer, not paying attention, your eyes still focused on Colson.

Kyle pays for the shot, tips the bartender and hands you your shot. You don't even look to see what it is before throwing it back in one gulp. “Come on let’s go dance,” you slam the empty shot glass and  grab Kyle’s hand pulling him onto the dance floor, positioning his back to Colson. You don’t know what kind of game Colson is playing, but you can play it too — your eyes still locked across the room.

When the song changes — Closer by Nine Inch Nails now playing through the club speakers — Colson takes his game to the next level, grinding with “his girl” without breaking eye contact with you. You can’t decide if he’s trying to make you jealous or make you want him. And you can’t decide for what reason you keep playing along but it’s not long before you find yourself rolling your body against your date, your stare letting Colson know two can play this game.

“Damn, girl!” Kyle exclaims, shocked by your sudden shift in demeanour, his hands making their way to your ass, making you cringe internally at his touch. But you keep up the facade letting him push and pull your bodies together on the dance floor as Colson’s glare intensifies. 

‘I wanna fuck you like an animal, I wanna feel you on the inside…’  The chorus starts and you know things are about to get turnt up. Colson’s head dips down, his eyes still glued to yours as he sensually licks a stripe up his date's neck. Quickly, you spin Kyle around leaning into him as you grind your backside against the zipper of his denim. You reach behind your head with one hand, lacing your fingers in the back of Kyle’s hair and pull his face into your craned neck, simultaneously inviting him to taste you and shielding his view of you and Colson’s fervid eye fucking. You feel guilty feeling Kyle grow hard against you, knowing allowing his sloppy mouthing of your neck is definitely leading him on.

“Five.” Colson mouths to you, holding up the same amount of fingers behind his dates back, then motioning with his head to the bathrooms. You check your watch, it’s 12:00 exactly.

Five  minutes pass and you see Colson excuse himself to the bathroom. Immediately you push you date away frantically, making up a lie about feeling light headed and needing to go get some water at the bar, but head straight to the bathrooms. Inside the one person bathroom you find Colson doing a key bump of coke by the sink.

“What do you want?” You ask, annoyed.

“Ain’t that the tight little black dress from the first night we were together?” he asks, sniffing and wiping at his nose, as he locks the door behind you.

“Is that what you brought me in here for, to ask if this was the dress from our first date? You roll your eyes hopping up to sit on the edge of the sink counter, your fresh pedicured feet with open toed shoes dangling down in front of you. 

“MMMmmm you get them done just for me, baby?”

“Fuck off Colson, I didn’t even know you were gonna be here tonight, otherwise I wouldn’t have come,” you quip, folding your arms across your chest in annoyance. “Are you done wasting my time, I’d like to get back to my date.”

“Bullshit!” Colson calls you out. “ Little lawyer boy out there ain’t even your type, I know it and you know it. Your girl set you up on a blind date didn’t she?” He says cocikly. He knows you too well.

“You don’t know shit, Colson,” you lie, jumping down from the counter and heading towards the door to leave.

“Pretty impressive performance out there though, I gotta give it to you — .” Colson steps forward his body between you and the door, backing you back up against the counter. “-- letting him lick and touch all over you —-” he lowers his head, his whiskey-infused breath cascading over your neck and chest and he continues to speak. “-- knowing dayummm well you wish it were me.”

“You need to let me go, Colson. We’re over! You cheated … AGAIN!” You remind him, and apparently yourself, your head involuntarily cocking to the side, opening up your neck to him, your body half ready to give into temptation despite your anger with him.

“I’ll admit I took advantage of you every night that I was on the road,” he speaks in an apologetic tone. But don’t think for a minute i’ma let you convince me that what we started is finished, or for a second that I wouldn't take a bullet to the head for you!” He presses a single knuckle to your temple, his blue eyes piercing though your soul “You know we both want this. I know we’ve had some hard times but you said that even if it took forever that you and me would be together.”

 “You’re insane” tumbles from you lips in a last ditch effort to keep up your guard even though the breathy way it escape your mouth sounds a lot more like “fuck me.”

“Ok, yeah, I’m insane… but you the same!” He says, aggressively pointing at you and pressing his forehead to yours, his lips mere centimeters from your own.

You bite your lip; your guard, your walls, and common sense crumbling down around you. “We’re insane — both of us,” you laugh ,a single tear sliding from your eye. “I guess that’s just the way it goes.” You punctuate your words against Colson’s eager lips with a kiss.

There’s no turning back now, your fingers hurriedly undoing the buttons on the placket of his pink devil shirt as his hungry mouth devours kiss after kiss until you can barely breathe, his hands cupping your face so tight. He tastes of weed and whiskey, but you welcome the nostalgic flavor on your tongue. You slide his now open shirt off his shoulders, and let your hands trail down his tattooed torso. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he growls breaking the kiss, quickly lifting you back onto the counter, and letting his shirt fall to the floor. Nestling his face into your neck and hair, he breathes you in as if his memory is bottling up your scent for later.

“Colson,” you whine needily. Desperate to feel the heat of his mouth connect with your flesh, you rake a hand through his tousled bleach blonde locks, pushing down on his head until you feel his wet tongue begin to lap at your clavicle. You lean back against the mirror in pleasure as his tongue writes a sonnet across your neck and chest. He spreads your legs with his knee, your tight black dress inching up your thighs the wider your legs go. His hand slides up the expanse of your inner thighs to your core. Hastily, he pushes your panties to the side, the tips of his pretty painted fingers toying with your clit. The faster he rubs the faster and more sporadic your movements and breathing become, your body begging to be fucked. “Uhhh, Fuck me!” Your words echo your body’s pleas.

“Mmmmhh, he lets out a throaty rumble. “Thought you’d never ask,” he smirks, reaching for the delicate waistband of your black lace panties. He quickly pulls them down, struggling when they get snagged on the stiletto heel of one of your shoes. “Fuck it,” he laughs leaving them stuck in exchange for undoing his cherry red belt. With his belt undone he upzips his dark denim jeans pulling them and his ethika boxers down in one motion, springing himself free.

Wrapping his arms around your thighs he yanks you towards him, your ass teetering on the edge of the counter. With a hand behind each knee he shoves your legs back, bending you into one of his favorite positions; folded in half, legs up by your head. He loves how deep he can get like this. 

Still holding your legs back, he bends down, lowering his face to your core, tasting you. 

“Uhhhhh, Fuck, Cols,” you whine with eyes squeezed shut, griping his hair as he moves his tongue in a wide stripe from the bottom up, pausing to focus his attention on the sensitive bud at the top. 

“Ummghmm,” he hums against you before lifting his head. “No time for this right now” he says with glossed lips “but God, I had to taste you again.”

He removes one of his hands from your legs and grabs himself, bringing the tip to your entrance. Quickly, he slides it back and forth through your wetness before pushing in, a low gravely moan falling from his lips as he bottoms out. 

“Shit… Fuck...Oh my God!,” You slap a hand over your mouth.

“Nah, ain’t nobody gonna hear you over the music out there, baby” he says brushing your hand away from your mouth and replacing it with his lips, as he thrusts.

You moan into his mouth and he moves his lips lower, kissing down your neck, so he can hear your pleas of “Harder”. He obliges driving his hips forward with more force, and quickens his pace, the back of your head banging  against the mirror so hard, you swear the both of you are about to have seven years of bad luck. But you don’t care, the slight curve to his perfect cock ramming repeatedly into your g-spot. 

“Feels so good , uhhh right there. Yes!”  You scream out.

“Mmm, yeah you gonna cum for me baby?” 

“Ssso close.” You know you're practically guaranteed to cum before Colson; the man could go all night, often making you cum two or three times before he’s done. But you don’t have that kind of time tonight in this tiny club bathroom with both your dates nearby. A few more hard thrusts and your orgasm begins to  peak in your abdomen, the feeling as surreal as the Dali tatt on his back your fingernails are raking down. “I — I’m Cumming! 

He keeps up his pace, chasing after his own release, groaning with each clench of your walls as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

Still not there yet, he quickly pulls out, grabs you up by your hair, and shoves his cock into your mouth.You can taste yourself as he rams his cock in and out of your mouth. “Yeah, love watching you getting your throat destroyed’” he grits between his teeth, watching in the mirror as he face fucks you. “Uhhgh, gonna —” he exhales heavily, filling your mouth as he holds your head in place. After the last drop is out he pulls you off him with a ‘pop’.

The silence is awkward as you both get dressed, nothing but heavy breathing in the air. “Ah, shit,” Colson breaks the silence, a slow trickle of blood coming from his nose.

“Sit, sit. I’ll get it,” you insist, hurriedly grabbing some toilet paper from the stall, as Colson takes a seat on the counter. You dab at the dripping blood and pinch his nose shut. “Here hold this, like this,” you say, guiding his hand to his nose. “You really gotta stop doing coke, ya know.” you say in a caring tone as you finish buttoning up his shit for him.

He gives you a  simple “thanks” with a genuine appreciative smile. “Guess we would get back out there,” he gets off the counter giving his nose a final wipe.

“Yeah, Shawnie’s gonna kill me when she finds out.”

“Shhh,” he shushes your lips with his finger. “The homies don’t gotta know.”

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [13]

Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14

➜ Words: 4.3k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

“I’m in love with you,” he asserts.   “Gross.”   Your answer is instinctive. But you’re not disgusted with him. Your features don’t twist. Your lips don’t become lopsided. Rather, the word is stated blankly. Impulsively. After all, you’ve conditioned yourself to respond like that — like anything in relation to romance is now awful.   “Yeah.” Jungkook sighs, hair shagging over his forehead as he looks down. “I know. I’m pretty disgusted with myself too. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still in love with you. Fucking head over heels and all that crap.”   You’re rendered speechless, about to ask him if he’s fucking with you, if this is some kind of sick joke.   But then suddenly, Jungkook sighs loudly, startling you. His rigid body deflates, the tension in his muscles leaves and he knocks his head back, taking a deep breath. “God, it feels so good to be honest. With myself and with you.”   The sun is setting over the horizon, the warmth soaking into his skin and softening his edges. The pair of you face each other in the middle of the empty sidewalk on an equally empty campus. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to take cover.   You wonder how long he’s felt this way for.   You’re conflicted, unsure what to tell him. “Love’s a strong word, Jungkook.”   “I’m aware.”   “H-How are you even sure?”   The dark-haired man looks you in the eye, his own becoming half-lidded. His breathing turns shallow, heavy in his chest and out his parted lips. “I’m sure.”   You know Jungkook well enough to recognize his earnest sincerity. There isn’t a shred of doubt in his gaze nor his expression. He doesn’t waver once in his bold conviction. There’s only truth.   “Well…...shit.” The words sink into you. The claws and pointed ends of each syllable nick into your flesh. In an instant, your impassiveness is torn from you — your placid state taken — your stoic face uncovered. “Fuck. Fuck!”    You scream up into the sky, turning around, hands in your hair. What he’s saying registers and you hate it. You hate that love has to mess up every single relationship that you have. Goddamn. You can’t keep that disease away from affecting the people you care about most.   Jungkook watches you have the small meltdown with widened eyes, not sure what to do or say. But then you whirl around after a moment, determination set in your features. All of a sudden, you grab his hand, patting it with your other firmly as if you were a doctor coaxing and comforting a patient.   “We can overcome this together.”   “What?”   “It’s okay. This happens. If you’re friends with someone from the gender you’re attracted to, it’s natural you end up having a crush on them. It’s expected actually, considering we spend so much time together and interact so much. People encounter this issue all the time, but we can overcome it, Jungkook. Together.” You put your hand on his shoulder, eyes sympathetic. “I’ll help you get over me.”   Jungkook can feel his left eye twitching.   Of all responses, he did not expect this one. You’re acting like his therapist and that he’s got some kind of illness. You even end up thanking him for telling you the truth.   Jungkook might actually need to see a therapist after talking to you.

Infatuation only lasts so long. Personally, in your humble opinion, you aren’t hot shit anyway. You’re not that great. Jungkook will get over himself when he sees you for how you really are.   If anyone’s ever liked you, they won’t for long — you have evidence of that.   “Hey, buddy!” You give finger guns as a greeting, making sure to not get too close to him.   “You don’t need to patronize me.”   Your voice releases stiff laughter. “Alright, bro.” You put your fist out for a fist bump, but Jungkook completely ignores you. He walks right past you with his hands in the pockets of his open coat.   “Are you coming or are you going to stand there like an idiot?” he asks, briefly glancing over his shoulder.   You scoff.   Ever since the whole traumatizing confession, nothing’s changed. But at the same time everything has.   Jungkook doesn’t act any differently — he still glares at you, calls you stupid and a witch. But you also begin to notice how affectionate his physical gestures are, when he taps your arm, when takes your shoulder to guide you away from a crowd, when he pats your head.    And your efforts of keeping things as platonic as possible inadvertently makes everything awkward. It’s even worse now that you’re literally spending so much time with Jungkook. Exclusively. It’s just him, and for the months to come, it will only be him.   You’ve already decided within the first minute that you won’t ignore him or distance yourself. You can’t. Not with the upcoming internship, and not when you’ve had that happen to you. You won’t do such a cruel thing to someone else. Jungkook will always be your friend no matter what and you’ll make sure of that.   You catch up with him. “You know, I haven’t showered in days. This is like three-day old hair. Greasy, right? I just get so lazy showering.”   “Right.” He ignores you.   It goes silent and you noisily clear your throat. “Man, I had the worst shit today. It was explosive, dude.”   “You really think toilet humour is going to make me stop liking you?” Jungkook stops in his tracks and you halt in a delayed manner. He shifts towards you, glaring. “What do you take me for?”   You pout. “At least I’m trying.”   “Try harder.” He pauses. “For the sake of both of us.”   You’re befuddled over his answer and when he starts walking again, you quicken your pace to match his. “What? You don’t want to like me?”   “Not if you don’t want me to. I just wonder what’s more difficult,” he hums thoughtfully, “You trying to get me to stop liking you or me trying to make you like me.”   “I already like you,” you mumble.   “See?” Jungkook points out abruptly as the corner of his mouth quirks into a subtle smile. “That’s not going to help with my situation.”   “Sorry.” Your cheeks puff in your pout.   “Neither is that,” He says and when you quirk your head to the side, brows furrowing, he grins boyishly. “Stop worrying about it before you give yourself wrinkles. Save your energy for the internship. I’m the least of your concerns.”   He’s wrong.    Jeon Jungkook is the biggest thing on your mind lately.

Kim’s Wedding Cake Company sits in the middle of Imlings Avenue.    It’s a bakery played in between two small boutiques. It has tan brick walls and the shop’s sign is slightly worn around the red letters, but still legible. The doorway is narrow and crowded by two large glass windows on either side that invites onlookers inside for a session of cake tasting.   The bell chimes as Jungkook pushes the door open, keeping it wide until you’re able to step in.   The cream walls and the floorboards create a cozy atmosphere like you’re home. But what sets it aside from an intimate abode is the paintings of wedding cakes on the walls and the rounded tables with chairs around them for customers to sit at.   A counter is curved at the corner of the room, cutting off the main area from the back. The moment the bell stops ringing, a short woman comes frantically stumbling out from the doorway.   “Welcome!”    She grins and the wrinkles around her eyes crease. Her brunette hair is in a bun, strays falling to frame her face. The woman is maybe around her early forties. “Congratulations on your engagement!” She grabs her binder and starts flipping. “Do you have an appointment?”   “Oh no! He and I…” You point at Jungkook and then back at yourself, flustered. “We’re not like that.”   Jungkook is holding back laughter, watching you flounder about. You’ve suddenly become so anxious at the idea that the pair of you are engaged. He turns away to look at the woman. “What she means is that we’re your interns.”   “Oh, thank god.” The woman sighs, stepping back. “For a second here, I thought I had completely forgotten about an appointment.” She turns on her feet, placing her hands on her hips and shouts, “Namjoon! Honey! We were supposed to get our interns today?!”   From the other room, a man’s voice screams back. “What?!”   She goes closer to the doorway, shrieking, “Our interns! Were they supposed to come today?!”   “No! They’re coming in a week from now!”   “Then why are they standing right here?!”   “What?!”   “Why are they standing here?!”   You exchange a look with Jungkook, not sure what’s going on. At the same time, a stocky, tall man in the traditional chef's uniform emerges — white double-breasted jacket, black pants and an apron. “I heard you, I heard you.”   “Did you mark it wrong in the calendar again?”   “I swear I didn’t—” The older man’s eyes widen as they catch the two of you standing there awkwardly. You lift your hand in salutation and he laughs. “Well, what do you know! Here they are, today! Welcome to our home!”   Namjoon opens the wooden separator, comes out and wipes his hands on his apron haphazardly to shake both of your hands. His wife sighs and follows closely to greet you. “You must be Y/N and Jungsook?”   “Jungkook,” he corrects in dismay while you try to hide your giggles.   “Right, right. My bad. My name is Namjoon and my wife here is Sejeong.”   Sejeong smiles. “I’m glad you’re both on board. Do you have any experience doing wedding cakes?”   “No, we haven’t.”   “It’s alright,” she reassures, “We’ll teach you along the way.”   “We need all the help we can get.” Namjoon sighs. “Ever since Soohyun went on maternity leave, we’ve been swamped up to our chins. Doesn’t help that it’s wedding season.”   “Auntie.” A four foot eight girl comes out from the back, her long black hair tied into a ponytail at the crown of her head, and coral apron tied around her body. “The chocolate’s melted—”   The girl freezes on her spot, big eyes pinpointing onto Jungkook. You glance at him, and he looks at you with a small shrug.   “Has it?” Sejeong smiles and brushes past her. “I’ll go check.”   The younger girl doesn’t move and Namjoon smiles. “Oh, this is my eighteen year old niece, Yuna. She’s working here part-time to help out, mostly on the weekends when she’s not at school.”   “Nice to meet you.” She timidly approaches Jungkook, clearing her throat and batting her lashes at him.   Jungkook blankly shakes her hand. “Hi.”   You extend your own hand and it’s only then that she seems to notice you and reluctantly shakes it. “I’m Y/N and this is Jungkook.”   “Jungkook,” she murmurs after you. “So you’re going to work here till August?”   “Yes, they will.” Namjoon laughs heartily. “You should go help your aunt look at the chocolate, Yuna. You can only learn if you know what you did wrong or right.”   “Fine.” She exhales and drags her feet away, throwing a fleeting look to Jungkook over her shoulder.   Namjoon re-directs his attention to the two of you with a softened smile. “Let me show you around!”    The back area is a short hall that splits into three. The door to the left is a room with a table and chairs, posters of wedding cakes on the walls and happily married couples on their wedding day. “This is our only private room we have. It’s just in case a couple has a large party with them or would like some privacy when we have our consultation.”   You peek your head into the room across from it. “That is our staff room and our bathroom and where our offices are. You can always eat your lunch or take a break here.”   Namjoon leads you the other way and it’s to the place you know best — silver countertops, stoves, ovens, and sinks galore. “And this is our kitchen. We have a fridge here where we keep our cakes, a small fridge, our pantry. You’ll get yourself familiar pretty soon, don’t worry.”   You return from the tour back to the main area, asking questions along the way which Namjoon is happy to answer. The pair of you also offer more insight into what you know and he’s pleasantly surprised that his two interns are more experienced than expected.   “It can get pretty hectic around here during the wedding season. Some days we just have appointments and cake tasting all day. Other times, we’re rushing to make a wedding cake for the following day or we might be at the wedding venue getting it all set up. We usually open up shop around eight in the morning and you guys are let off at four.”   “Don’t worry, if we have to stay late to catch up on work or finish a cake up, you’ll get paid handsomely.” Namjoon grins. “We work five days a week. Sometimes you’ll have to come in on the Saturday if we have a wedding on Sunday, but it’s not often. Any questions? Comments?”   “Um…” You exchange expressions with Jungkook. “No, not really. I think we got it.”   Suddenly the older man bursts out laughing, startling you both. “You two don’t have to be so anxious! I was a student once too. Don’t they say wedding cake internships are one of the hardest ones you can take?”   “Uh.” Jungkook gingerly smiles. “We’ve heard of that.”   “Yep.” The older man bobs his head. “That’s what I thought. But don’t worry, it’ll be a lot of work, but it’ll be fun. Just don’t get on my wife’s bad side and you’ll be fine and dandy.”   “Are you talking badly about me?” Sejeong comes from the back, glaring at her husband.   “Oh, there she comes.” In spite of his playful warnings, Namjoon laughs, dimples marked on each side of his cheek. He leans over to plop a kiss at the top of her head and waltzes into the back, leaving her sighing.   “That man. Hopeless, I swear. Anyhow...I hope you both are ready!” Sejeong claps her hands together. “No time like the present to start learning and diving into it! We have a couple arriving in an hour for a consultation and I want you guys to lead. Should be easy enough!”   The two of you nod, preparing yourselves.   //   Both Namjoon and Sejeong give you a few moments to yourselves to breathe and not be overwhelmed. But you’re kind of excited. It’s a bit surreal that one moment you’re sitting in a lecture hall learning about theory and the next, you’re in the real world, about to apply all the knowledge you’ve gathered. For a while now, you’ve missed working and being more hands-on.   You glance down to your coral apron they gave you. Jungkook is in the same one and while he grumbled about not wearing much pink before, he looks cute in it. You wanted to take a picture but he didn’t let you. Self-conscious Jungkook is one you’ve seldom seen and admittedly, endearing.   “They seem really nice.” And in love. It’s pleasant to see. Even with how disgusting romance is.   It just isn’t often that you can look at a couple and not think about their inevitable doom.   “Yeah, they are. Thankfully. God knows how many strict head chefs are out there.”   You wonder what it’s like to own a business with your husband and work together all the time — though you don’t voice your question aloud. You have an inkling Jungkook would flirtatiously answer ‘that could be us’ and you don’t need to be distracted by him right now.   His presence is a distraction enough.   “How about Yuna though?” You elbow him lightly in the ribs, giving a nudge while wiggling your brows. “I think she likes you.”   Jungkook’s expression blanches. “She’s still in high school.”   “I’m just kidding—”   “And some other girl showing up is not going to stop me from liking you any less than I do,” Jungkook says nonchalantly, stating it like it’s a fact. He’s unaware of how your face heats.   You quickly take a drink of water in an attempt to cool down. Goddammit — he’s being a distraction already without you having to set him up.   “You still owe me that favour.” You clear your throat, changing the subject. “Remember? When you challenged me saying you could pipe better than I can temper chocolate.”   “I thought we called it even.” Jungkook grins, cutely with the mole dotted underneath his mouth.   “Nu-uh. That’s not fair and you know it.” You put your foot down. “We agreed the loser would have to cover for the winner when they go on break or make a mistake. And you lost, Jeon.”   “Already planning on making mistakes?”   You sulk. “No. I just want you to have my back.”   “You already have that,” Jungkook says tenderly with a smile. “And a lot more.”   Your mouth is filled with cotton. The corner of his mouth curls even more, relishing in your surprised expression. He doesn’t even bat a lash and merely looks away when the bell to the front entrance rings. “Welcome to Kim’s Wedding Catering Company.”   You tear your eyes away from Jeon Jungkook’s profile. “Do you have an appointment?”   “Yes, we do.” The woman smiles, dressed in a white beret and trench coat, her cheeks blushing. She’s accompanied by another woman in a leather jacket who’s holding her hand. “It should be under Lee.”   “You must be Sungkyung and Victoria, congratulations on your engagement.”   The both of them glance at each other, sharing giddy smiles. “Thank you.”   “Right this way.”   Jungkook leads them to one of the wooden tables, setting out a book as you grab the slices of cake on the plate from the back, all decorated and labeled. Sejeong who’s been watching at the counter gives an encouraging thumbs up.   “So your wedding is being held during the beginning of September?”   “Yes and we’re planning to cut the cake during the evening,” Sungkyung says as Jungkook jots it down on his sheet.   “Will this be an outdoor or indoor wedding?”   “We’re planning to have it outdoors in a garden.”   “That’s nice.” Jungkook smiles. “Do you have any themes in your wedding? Any colour scheme?”   “We have butterflies and we have green and purple as our colours.”   “And how many guests do you have?”   “About a hundred.”   “Okay.”   You come to the table with the long plate and two forks. Both of the women are excited, eyes lighting up as you place the cakes in front of them and take a seat beside Jungkook.    “This one is vanilla cake with buttercream. It’s simple, but a classic. This one is coconut cake with coconut cream. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting, chocolate with ganache, lemon with custard filling and fondant, strawberry with salted caramel filling and fondant, and the last one here is carrot cake with butterscotch sauce filling and chocolate buttercream icing. Take your time.”   “I really like this one,” Victoria whispers to her fiancée, fork points to carrot cake. “Or at least the icing part.”   “I prefer this one.” Sungkyung indicates the strawberry cake and takes another bite.   “We can always mix and match,” you tell them with a smile. “It’s possible to do strawberry cake with buttercream.”   “Buttercream usually tastes better than fondant, but if it’s hot outside, it might melt.” Jungkook’s brows knit together and you look at him, humming for a second.   “Well, we always put a layer of fondant over the buttercream so they also get that smooth look and we wouldn’t have to worry about melting.”   The boy nods. “Yeah, that would work.”    “That sounds really good.” The two women smile at each other. “How much would it cost?”   “Ummm…” Jungkook flips through the binder, memory failing him. He finally finds the table of all the prices on the tenth page. “For us, it depends on what kind of cake you end up choosing and how many tiers it’ll be, but it should be around four hundred to five hundred. For a hundred people, I’d recommend…..uh…”   “Three to four layers.” You finish his sentence and Jungkook looks at you gratefully.   You leave the two of them to finish up the cakes and to discuss with one another.   Sejeong who’s been waiting at the back has her compliments prepared. “Great job, you two. Couldn’t have done it better myself!”   It’s stressful to remember the details, but luckily Sejeong is merciful and allows the two of you to shadow her as she goes out to explain the designs, possible flower arrangements on the cake and discuss how they want it to look. She also goes more into detail about prices, providing the women with a write-up of what it would look like.   When the consultation is finished, there’s not a moment to breathe.   You’re ushered into the kitchen where Namjoon is working on a wedding cake.   “So I already baked these babies yesterday and let them cool down in the fridge. I’ve also made the buttercream just now. Today we crumb coat our cakes and colour fondant. Tomorrow, we’re going to cover the cakes with fondant, put dowels in and stack our tiers, and decorate, then it’s all ready for delivery! Easy, huh?”   “Umm…”   The older man laughs noisily from his chest. “I’m guessing you two know how to crumb coat cakes?”   “Yes, we do.”   “Great. Then this is all on you. Make sure not to mess up! It’s the bride and groom’s special day! People only have a wedding once...hopefully.”   There’s not any pressure whatsoever.   Namjoon leaves, coming in and out to help with his wife and niece cleaning the front and watching over your shoulder. But he has little to say to both you and Jungkook when he finds your techniques sufficient.   The cakes are placed on a turntable, bench scrapers and offset icing spatulas in hand. You add a thin layer of frosting to trap cake crumbs and prevent them from popping up in your finished cake. And while you crumb coat two layers, Jungkook does one and goes to colour fondant.   Namjoon teaches him, rolling the fondant into a ball and kneading until it’s soft and pliable. A small dot of pink is added and he kneads the colour until it’s blended.   Once you’re done with the cakes, you help Jungkook with another ball of fondant, kneading until your arms are sore. Afterwards, the two of you assist Sejeong and Yuna, organizing the shelves of baking pans, various coloured ribbons, and bins of cookie and cake cutters.   It’s tiresome, but you feel rejuvenated when they let you try some of the spare cake slices they offer. It’s delicious, melting on your palate and Namjoon jokingly quizzes both of you on what kind of icing works best with what cakes and what ingredients are in each of them.    You’d like to say you won.   They also teach you how to answer emails and phone calls, and both you and Jungkook arrange a few appointments for next week. The day is over before you’ve realized.   “Good work, you two!” Sejeong praises. “You’re very fast learners.”   “I heard you rank high at your school.” Namjoon smiles in spite of your modest protests. “I believe you know her as Miss. Kang. She speaks highly of you two and I’m not disappointed.”   “Jungkook, I heard you wanted to be a Chocolatier?” Namjoon asks and the boy is like a deer in the headlights, doe eyes rounded. He nods slowly.   “Yes, that’s my long-term goal.”   “When we have a moment then, I’ll work on something with you,” he promises with another dimpled smile and Jungkook is visibly enthused. “Anyway, I hope nothing was too overwhelming. Get a good night’s rest and we’ll continue tomorrow!”   They close up shop as the sun sets over the horizon and Yuna waves wildly, bidding Jungkook farewell. “Bye, Jungkook!”   He makes a noise, a small ‘bye’ to her before the two of you turn away after waving to the married couple. You walk down the street together, towards the bus stop where it’ll guide you home.   “That wasn’t bad.”   “Yeah.” There’s a pause. Jungkook smiles at you. “It wasn’t.”   Silence eventually falls in between the spaces.   You can feel your eye bags deepening, your bones creaking with every movement. You’re exhausted from the long day, unable to utter a single word, but the quiet that settles is comfortable rather than awkward.   Your feet are moving on their own against the pavement, the sounds of cars moving past shaping the white noise of the city. It’s a long way back home, but as you glance at Jungkook, walking alongside him with your footsteps synced together, you’re glad he’s here.   The two of you have each other for support.   You’re unknowing to how Jungkook shares the same sentiment. He takes a glimpse of you when you don’t notice, stealing glances like he’s stealing candy. The smile on his face softens.   His own words echo back to him— “I just wonder what’s more difficult,” he had hummed thoughtfully, “You trying to get me to stop liking you or me trying to make you like me.”   It occurs to Jungkook that he’s found his answer. He realizes he can’t ‘overcome’ his feelings. He can’t get over you like you think he can. 

If you rejected him, his concern of making you uncomfortable would far outweigh these simmering emotions inside of him, but you didn’t. The fact of the matter is that Jungkook knows your aversion is towards love, not him. And with such uncertainty and possibilities, it’s impossible to get over you.

It won’t work. Not when you’re you. 

So Jungkook chooses the other path — the other approach.    He makes the decision right then and there. Instead of idly standing by and allowing you to sprout nonsense and drive him even more crazy, he’s going to act. He’s going to actually do something about his feelings—    Jeon Jungkook is going to court you.

[swtorpadawan]

Backup

Author’s Notes: The following story takes place a few weeks after the Rise of the Emperor expansion.

Jonas Balkar’s eyes scanned the south balcony of the Star Cluster Casino on Nar Shaddaa.

From the nearby Strategic Information Service observation post, the senior agent had multiple angles to choose from on his monitor displays, both inside and outside the venue. Years before, Jonas and the Republic SIS – with the assistance of Havoc Squad – had remotely sliced the establishment’s nigh-impregnable security system ever since, giving them a backdoor to the casino’s entire network. Say what you will about the Hutts, but they weren’t stingy on surveillance. They wanted every credit and every gaming chip accounted for, and they were committed to keeping (unsanctioned) violence away from their lucrative hotels and casinos. There were literally hundreds of security holo-recorders and sensors throughout the Star Cluster, and Jonas had access to all of it. What’s more, he could adjust what the Hutts and their goons saw at their end, meaning they wouldn’t get wise to what Jonas was up to.

This had all made the Star Cluster the ideal location for a discreet handoff between their contact – a rather gullible Rodian information broker named Rox, who had a nervous demeanor – and a Nikto working for a Black Sun arms dealer who was (allegedly) supplying off-the-books weaponry for the new Sith Intelligence and their covert operations on the Smuggler’s Moon and other Hutt-controlled worlds. (Why waste time smuggling in ordinance that can be traced back to your government when you can just as easily buy large quantities of untraceable weapons after you arrive, and all at a reasonable price?) The plan was for the Rodian to pass a large bribe to the Nikto for a data-disk on these (alleged) shipments to Imperial safehouses. In one swoop, the SIS would pick up the drop-off points of the network.

But the plan got even better. If things went well, then two days from now, Jonas – through a proxy –would approach the Nikto – the fellow was named Fhentar – with all the information the man had illicitly provided to the Rodian, along with a recording of the hand-off. Using that evidence as leverage, he would turn Fhentar into an SIS informant by threatening to share what the Nikto had done with his boss. The Nikto would then realize that his future lifespan could be measured in minutes if that happened. With Fhentar in Jonas’ pocket, the arms shipments could be disrupted at the Republic’s leisure, forcing the Imps to resort to smuggling their own weapons to the planet. That would further antagonize the Hutt Cartel, causing the Empire even more problems.

Within a few weeks, the Empire’s entire Nar Shaddaa network – so carefully reconstructed by Lana Beniko, the new Minister of Sith Intelligence – would be compromised.

A beautiful plan. All it relied on was this handoff going well over the next few minutes. Just in case, Jonas had an SIS security team – disguised of course – standing by just a few minutes away.

The balcony hadn’t been the obvious choice for the hand-off, but Jonas was convinced it would work. When the action was going hot inside, most of the people tended to ignore the balconies; everyone liked a party, after all. He’d spent weeks surveying the surrounding buildings. A sniper from a nearby high point – should the Exchange or Black Sun or even Sith Intelligence choose to intervene – would find no clear shot of the south balcony. Surveillance – aside from that of the SIS, of course – would be problematic with these acoustics. Rox was wired, but any other audio monitoring would be suppressed.

It worked.

To ensure relative quiet on the balcony, a simple ruse had been arranged to distract any potential witnesses. At the appointed moment, a million-credit jackpot would miraculously (and conveniently) hit on one of the Star Cluster’s Kingpin machines to get the crowd’s attention. An undercover SIS operative would then create a diversion on the floor of casino, feigning drunkenness and staging a fight with the gambler who’d won the jackpot. The altercation would draw the remaining bystanders, all but clearing the balcony of potential witnesses and making it an ideal exchange spot. In Jonas’s experience, nothing drew eyes like a fight on the floor of a casino.  

Still, the SIS agent found himself nervous about this operation for some reason he couldn’t quite place. That’s why he’d called in backup to help him observe everything from his post.  

“You know, of the two of us, I’m supposed to be the one with the anxious reputation.” said the voice from behind him.

Jonas turned, giving Theron Shan a rather haughty smile. One of the top agents in the SIS and (technically) still a division head, Theron handed Jonas a steaming cup of caff, which he accepted with genuine gratitude.

“Well, maybe you’ve been rubbing off on me.” Jonas quipped. “I’ve seen you fret on these things more than a few times. Besides, you were the one who needed to get off Coruscant, remember?”

“I know, I know.” Theron held up a free hand. “Everyone’s still upset with me over that mess I made on Ziost.” He sipped his own cup of caff with a shake of his head as he let out a sigh. For a moment, his normally care-free demeanor slipped away, and Jonas could see the guilt weighing heavily on him.  

“I tell you, Jonas, I honestly don’t blame anyone for being angry with me. I should have called in the cavalry the moment I heard from my contact that the Emperor was back. Instead, I got most of my team killed, and that was before Saresh even called in the invasion out from under me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What a mess.”

Jonas felt an upswell of sympathy for Theron and his troubles. He knew the SIS agent had only ever done what he thought was right, even if that was exactly what got him into trouble most of the time.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up too much.” Jonas patted Theron on the shoulder of his trademark red jacket, giving him a smirk. “At least I still like you.”

Theron wrinkled his nose affectionately at his fellow agent, then rolled his eyes.

“Flatterer.”

“It’s true.” Jonas shrugged, still grinning. “And anyway. I did owe you one from that one incident at the Dealer’s Den back on Coruscant.” Jonas attempted to imitate Theron’s reproachful tone. “‘Jonas’ you said to me, ‘Casino jobs are always tricky. You need to plan to the last detail.’ And hey – you were right.”

“Well, at least this time you actually told me what the operation was. That should make it a little easier.” Theron gave him a scrutinizing look. “So you had a funny feeling about this exchange, and decided to call me in for backup?”

“You are here to add ambiance to an otherwise dreary observation post. Even if it is in an unofficial capacity.” Jonas found himself smirking again. “And hopefully, to start the process of rehabilitating your image with the top brass, even if you aren’t actually here officially.”

Theron nodded in gratitude.

“I appreciate that. I know you didn’t have to do this for me.”

“Don’t mention it. Just help me make sure tonight goes down alright.” Seeing that Rox was in position, Jonas turned back to the bank of monitors, noting the chrono indicator.

It was almost time.

Theron silently gave Jonas a thumb’s up signal as the slice command went through the system. From inside the casino came a blast of celebratory music as the jackpot hit, followed by a series of cheers from the crowd. Most of the handful people still on the balcony started making their way inside. The casino was known to offer a round of complimentary drinks for such rare events. Mere seconds later, shouting could be heard, indicating the scuffle had begun. On one of the peripheral screens, Jonas could see Dionne – a junior agent who showed promise and could play the ‘drunken bruiser’ well – shoving the beleaguered and confused Mon Calamari who’d won the rigged jackpot. The Zabrak’s antics drew even more interest from the casino’s guests than the jackpot had, both inside and out on the balcony. Four or five stragglers made their way inside, eager to watch. Jonas smirked at their reaction as he checked the chrono once again. Perfect timing. Within seconds, Rox, their contact, was one of only three people left still standing on the balcony.

Jonas’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the remaining two individuals; a young human couple who were standing in the far corner, holding each other in an intimate embrace. Jonas watched the man and woman carefully; you couldn’t be too cautious in this business. Both were wearing the revealing attire that had become so popular among socialites on Corellia since the battle there had ended three years before; the ‘Euphoric Corellian’, this look was called. Their arms and shoulders were laid bare, though their hands were gloved. The cut of the tunic was provocative, leaving their flanks bared and showing plenty of skin. This duo wore the outfits well, the woman’s was a deep green while the man wore a royal blue.  

He focused on the woman first; a beautiful brunette with shoulder-length hair, fair skin and green eyes that seemed to match her dress. Jonas would place her in her twenties. The Corellian outfit hugged her impressive feminine curves, but Jonas noted the equally impressive lean, athletic muscle of her arms as well. She wore no jewelry; her only accessory was a green purse she wore over her shoulder, and like her outfit, it matched her eyes perfectly. She was beaming adoringly up at her lover, with a dazzling smile that could have made even a Trandoshan’s heart flutter.    

Damn. Lucky boy. Jonas marveled, turning his attention to her companion.

The man was tall and broad-chested; from what he could see, Jonas would normally assume that he worked out extensively. The scarring, however, across his arms suggested otherwise, telling the tale of injuries suffered over the years; this man – like his companion, only in his twenties by Jonas’s eye – was no doubt a veteran soldier. Probably he’d seen action on Corellia during the war. Based on his attire, maybe he hadn’t been regular Republic military but part of the planetary militia or maybe CorSec. His hair was as raven black as Jonas’s, though the SIS agent suspected the man’s might have been dyed. Regardless, he was a good looking fellow, Jonas couldn’t help but notice. He could easily imagine him on a recruitment poster for the military or for some holo-ad campaign, and his hazel eyes were completely enraptured with the beautiful woman in his arms.  

Huh. Lucky girl. Jonas reflected, chuckling to himself.

His initial anxiety about the couple quickly faded; these two were clearly in love and hardly looked like they could be carrying any concealed weapons. They both clearly enjoyed an active lifestyle. He couldn’t pick up any audio from here – the device Rox was wearing was designed for conversations near him – but they were obviously whispering ‘sweet nothings’ in each other’s ears, holding each other and occasionally leaning in for a teasing kiss. They certainly weren’t paying attention to anyone or anything else but to each other and probably hadn’t even heard the jackpot or the fight from inside. They were plainly just enjoying each other’s company until it was time to withdraw back to their room in the hotel for the evening.

Jonas sighed inwardly, trying to remember how long it had been since he had withdrawn to his room with someone special. Almost on reflex, he glanced over at Theron, who seemed distracted scrutinizing another monitor.

No. Jonas thought to himself. Theron Shan had been fun enough on that late night years ago after a mission when they’d each had far too much to drink, but they’d both agreed afterward that it was better that they remain friends. And honestly, Theron was a good friend, one of the best he had in the galaxy. He shook his head to clear it and then turned back to his own screens.  

Regardless of anything else, that young couple shouldn’t be a problem during a simple handoff.

Confirming once more that Rox was otherwise alone, and naturally that he was looking nervous, Jonas turned to the entry door to the balcony. The time was one minute past the agreed time for the exchange; not enough to call it off just yet. This was always a concern for intelligence agents, but it was the price of working with criminals.

There he is.

The Nikto finally walked in, eyes glancing around the balcony, briefly noting the intimate couple in the corner before dismissing them just as quickly, finally focusing on Rox and approaching the Rodian. A quick holo-scan confirmed that he was unarmed; Jonas was confident the Casino’s security was up to that task of keeping lowlifes like Fhentar from carrying weapons, as they’d had far too many incidents of violence here over the past few years. Fhentar himself was a strange story; supposedly he’d been part of a cult on Taris that had worshipped a fallen Jedi years ago. The SIS file on that situation was still sealed tightly, even from someone of Jonas’s rank. How Fhentar had wound up working for Black Sun after his ‘religion’ had collapsed was anyone’s guess.  

Rox folded his arms, trying to give the Nikto a hard look, but to Balkar, it merely came off as petulant.

“You’re late.” The Rodian said in Huttese.

“And you’re impatient.” Fhentar retorted. “Give me a break. Didn’t you hear the commotion? The casino is going crazy right now.”

Jonas couldn’t deny the validity of the excuse, even if he didn’t trust it. It came with the territory of being a spy.

“Whatever.” Rox shrugged dismissively. “You have the disk?”

“Depends. You got my credits?” the larger Nikto wasn’t giving up any ground. It was the normal underworld posturing, practically clichéd at this point.

“Of course.” The Rodian pulled out the high-denomination credit stick from his belt. Jonas hoped the credits would prove to be money well-spent. The SIS budget was not unlimited.  

The Nikto knew the game, producing a data disk from his jacket.

“So who’re you selling this to, anyway?”

As Rox’s ‘tough’ demeanor – such as it was – started to falter, Jonas could almost smell the Rodian’s nervousness from here.

“Come on. I’m an information broker. You know I can’t talk about that. Not when my clients are paying for discretion, anyway.”

Jonas suddenly noticed some distortion on his monitors. He checked the sensors, but they all seemed to be coming up blank… wait.

There. A series of vibrations against the side of the Star Cluster that weren’t accounted for anywhere else; four distinct series in fact. Rapidly heading down towards the balcony.

Theron Shan noticed it, too. Jonas watched as he urgently plugged into the sensor grid through his cybernetic implants. Jonas hit the ‘standby’ button for his backup team.  

Meanwhile, the conversation was still ongoing.

“Ah, well.” Fhentar shrugged, with a degree of smugness. He tapped the button on his chrono-wristband. “If you’d actually told me now, it would have saved us all some time.”

Jonas was hitting the alert button before the Nikto even finished speaking.

“Team two! Move in! Move in!”

He watched helplessly as the four series of vibrations converged on the balcony. A moment later, he saw the tell-tale shimmer of stealth field generators shutting down as four armed figures in sneak-suits had suddenly surrounded Rox and Fhentar, each one attached at their belt to a rope running up the wall. The SIS agent realized immediately that they had rappelled down the side of the building. The Star Cluster’s sensors should have normally picked up the anomaly well before this. Something had gone wrong.

Many somethings were obviously going wrong.  

“My bosses want to know who’s got their eyes on their business, Rox.” Fhentar chuckled. “So my friends here are gonna take you up to the shuttle pad on the roof. I hope you aren’t afraid of heights.”

Jonas’s communicator beeped as the Rodian started to look around, panicking.

“Chief!” Wynnefred’s voice came through. “The kriffing catering trucks have blocked us off! We have to go around!”  

“Dammit!” Jonas’s hand slammed against the table, checking the layout and realizing he’d been outplayed. “My backup team is more than a minute away!”  

Theron just looked up at the array of screens and smirked.

“Mine’s not.” He reached up and tapped the relay on his earpiece.

Even afterwards, even with the benefit of re-watching the recordings at reduced speed, Jonas could still barely comprehend what took place over the next two seconds.

One second, the Nikto and the Rodian were surrounded by four armed assailants, ready to restrain Rox and take him away the same way they had come, all while the young couple in the corner of the balcony continued to bask in each other’s company, completely oblivious to the abduction taking place behind them.

The next second, there was a veritable explosion of movement. The young couple were gone and Fhentar and all four of his accomplices had been knocked to the ground. As for Rox, the panicked Rodian had fallen to his knees and found himself flanked by a pair of bodyguards… each of them brandishing lightsabers.

Jedi. Jonas marveled to himself.

Other things registered to Jonas. The long dark wig had fallen from the brunette’s head - he now observed her short red hair - and was lying on the floor of the balcony, an obvious consequence of coming out of a Force leap. Her purse had likewise been discarded, and he realized that was likely where they had been hiding their weapons. He noted that the woman’s lightsaber was of the fluorescent green double-bladed variety, while the man brandished a pair of radiant blue sabers.

But these were all secondary observations to Jonas, as he watched all four assailants – apparently oblivious to the fact that they were completely outmatched – attempt to rise to their feet and to press the attack, only to be cut down in a flurry of brutally efficient lightsaber strikes.  

Apparently wiser than his fellows, Fhentar remained prone on the ground. Jonas could hear his lamentations through Rox’s audio device.  

“No! Not Jedi again!” he groaned, raising his hands in the air and plainly giving himself up.

Jonas was right about to turn to Theron in for an explanation when recognition dawned on him.

Wait.

Jonas’s eyes refocused on the man. The shade of his hair and eyes were off, and he was missing that distinctive scar going down his left cheek, but his physical build, the twin blue lightsabers and his red-headed companion…

Jonas’s jaw dropped in realization and he gaped.

“That’s the Hero of Tython!” he whirled on Theron.

Theron Shan was doing absolutely nothing to suppress his amusement.

“Yup. Colored contact lenses, some hair dye, and cosmetics. Plus a wig on Kira – his partner – obviously. No one in their right mind would ever expect to see a Jedi dressed like that.” Theron smiled. “I put a scan-blocker in Kira’s bag. Hutt security trains to look for blasters, knives and explosives, not for lightsabers.”

Jonas finally let out an exhale, realizing only then that he’d been holding his breath.

“I’d heard you’d been working with him.” He offered, turning back to his screens as the gears of his mind started to turn. “Not a perfect night, but its salvageable. Rox is still breathing and we took Fhentar alive. It shouldn’t be too hard to flip him, even without the recordings. Not ideal, but he should at least be able to give up some Imperial drop points.”

He nodded, turning back to Theron with a grateful smile.

“Well. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Theron chuckled. “Like you said, something about this exchange felt off. I might have waited too long to ‘call in the cavalry’ on Ziost, but I wasn’t going to make the same mistake here.”

“After all, everyone needs backup sometimes.”

“That we do. Please make sure to pass on my appreciation.” Jonas smiled back, then turned back to the monitoring station.

“So you had Halcyon and Carsen pose as a couple?”

Theron smirked boyishly, obviously pleased with himself at the deception.

“Clever, huh? I was worried they wouldn’t be able to pull it off, being Jedi and everything. But they were great out there. Hell, they could have fooled me.”

Jonas turned away from his fellow SIS agent, regarding the screens as Wynnefred and his team finally arrived to take Fhentar into custody and to deal with the bodies of the four fallen assailants. Despite the Nikto’s importance going forward, Jonas’s focus again zeroed in on the pair of young Jedi.

Halcyon was cautiously turning Fhentar over to the security team. Clearly, the Jedi Battlemaster wasn’t taking chances. Carsen was standing beside him, positioned protectively over Rox. But their postures were aligned towards each other; Halcyon turned just so his wide stance was open to Carsen, who likewise was turned towards him, her eyes gazing up at him affectionately as he conferred with Jonas’s backup team leader.

Theron Shan was one of the cleverest intelligence operatives Jonas knew, and he was nearly as good an analyst. But sometimes, he couldn’t see the forest from the trees.

For once though, Jonas decided to keep his observations to himself.

Well. At least somebody’s going to bed happy tonight. He suspected, with an envious look back at the couple.

 Author’s Notes: I just take it as a given that Theron and Jonas once had a brief thing.

Fhentar shows up on Taris during the Imperial Agent story, serving the memorable Ki Sazen. Obviously, in my legacy, he survived his encounter with Cipher Nine. Unfortunately for him, his new employers don’t appear to be much better than the old ones. Rox and Balkar’s subordinates are my own creation.

The mention of Havoc Squad’s trip to the Star Cluster Casino for the SIS is obviously a reference to the Trooper’s class mission to Nar Shaddaa.

The Euphoric Corellian armor set is a real thing. It’s probably illegal on some planets.

Rodians get shafted in this game and in the greater Star Wars universe in general. So I feel bad for piling on.

Tagging people who expressed interests - @swtorshipping​ , @swtor-writers-guild​ , @raven-of-domain-kwaad​ , @ask-an-andalite​ , @a-muirehen​ , @taraum​ , @theravenassassin95​ , @sleepswithvillains​ , @blueburds​ , @sunnysayshello​

[giuliafc]

When Magic Fails - chapter 2

Read on A03 || FFN || Wattpad (links to chapter 1)

Summary: The Miraculous Cure can fix the damage caused by a specific akuma. But what happens when said damage comes after the Miraculous Cure? When the damage isn't caused by an akuma? Follow Marinette through the worst day of her life. The day where her identity, or Chat's, won't matter any more. The day when she will discover what's really important. But at what price? Lovesquare story.

Warning: VERY intense! Read previous chapter here on Tumblr

Betas: KhanOfAllOrcs, Agrestebug, Etoile-Lead-Sama, Speckleflower, AmberLambda, Anonymousfriend27 and MiniNoire

Big thanks to: Momo|MarinetteAgresteBrand and Genxha

Cover art and chapter art credit: Rosehealer02 on Deviantart.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by (c) Thomas Astruc; TS1 Bouygues, Disney Channel, Zagtoon, Toei Animation. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

oOo

Chapter 2 - Code Polkadot

It was a race against time. His ring beeped when she passed the Ministère de la Santé, and her own Miraculous beeped in front of the ambassade des Pays-Bas. People watched in horror as she jumped and zipped across the road. She could see their stares, could hear their whispers. They were probably wondering what Ladybug was doing, holding Chat Noir and running madly across the road, both covered in blood, dust and rubble. She glared at anybody that came within a glaring distance.

“WHERE’S THE HOSPITAL?” she shouted at someone who had just stopped on a bike next to her. A familiar face, but her vision was so blurred by tears and sweat that she couldn’t quite make out who the person was. She shrugged off the idea. Four different hands pointed in the same direction, immediately followed by another dozen. She attempted a grateful smile, but was certain, from the frightened reactions of the people on the road, that she had barely managed to put up a painful grimace.

She jumped across in the direction shown and immediately saw her reflection glaring at her from the windows of the building in front of her. She didn’t even stop to consider what she looked like. The words on the building's windows said Hôpital Necker, but they also mentioned "University". She looked around to find the blue "H" that clearly marked a public hospital and saw it just a few metres away, at the side of a small marble arched gate, which led into a courtyard.

She landed in front of it and burst inside; her eyes scanned the courtyard until she saw at her left a door manning the sign “Accueil”. As she walked inside and looked around, she saw lines of metallic black seats. Mothers and children moved to give her space, as well as the people queuing and standing in front of the reception check in. She heard whispers around the room, mothers consoling their children who were asking what happened to Chat Noir. Why were there so many kids? All the patients had children with them; that was weird.

“I need a doctor, quickly!” she said bluntly at the woman sitting at the check in desk. To her disappointment the receptionist was on the phone, so taken with looking at the screen in front of her that she hadn’t even glanced in her direction. Marinette’s gaze quickly ran to Chat Noir’s face. The side of his head was covered in blood, which had mixed together with the dirt and the pieces of mortar in his hair and had made a sort of paste that had glued to his and even to her own suit. Her heart raced faster in her chest. She needed to hurry.

“Have you got your child’s carnet de santé and carte mutuelle, and your carte vitale please?” came from behind the green desk the voice of said receptionist, who stretched her left hand out to her, her eyes still focused on the screen in front of her, her ear still glued to the phone receiver.

Marinette gulped. Child? She looked around again. There were plenty of colourful drawings and cartoon characters embossed on the walls of the reception desk and pictures of children with many different types of illnesses.

Oh yes. Hôpital Necker, the child hospital. That’s right. She had heard of it in the news so many times, looking for donations for their research.

“He’s not my child…” she said. If the situation hadn’t been so serious she was sure Chat would have found it funny.

The middle aged brunette in front of her took her eyes off her screen, put a thick pair of glasses on and gave her a practised look of pure boredom before her brown eyes widened. “Excuse me ma’am,” she said to the person she was talking to on the phone. “I have an emergency here. You will need to redial.” She hung up and dropped the phone receiver.

“La… Ladybug? Oh Jesus… Chat Noir? What… This is a child’s hospital Ladybug… we have adult patients, but they...they’re not our speciality...” She started stammering and paled considerably.

Marinette felt a gush of anger spreading all over her gut as she admitted it, hastily, “I’m fifteen… and I expect him to be around my age. I don’t care if it’s a hospital for children, for aliens or for wild animals. He could die if we don’t act fast. He needs help. NOW.”

People all around started whispering.

“Fifteen?”

“Oh my God.”

“They are kids.”

“Only kids.”

“Maman is Chat Noir really younger than my big brother?”

“Sure.” The woman at the desk picked up the phone and pushed a couple of buttons on it. “Dr. Richter? Yes, Sylvie here at reception. We have an emergency. Oh you know already? Good… code polkadot you say? What is it, I’ve never heard of it. Ah okay... Cool. Yes, they know. They’re 15! Yes. I hear you, yes. Crazy! I’ll tell her. Leave it to me.” She stood and ran out of the accueil’s room; Marinette could only follow. “They’re already waiting for you in front of the SUSI (2).”

Marinette paled. “But I thought this was…” she muttered, but the woman interrupted her.

“Ladybug, you’re in the wrong place. This is the reception for booked appointments and routine visits. The SUSI is over there.” She pointed to the left. “You’re probably going to be faster than the bed. It’s the other side of that rooftop.”

Marinette gave her a grateful look and a nod. “Thank you… Sylvie?”

“Good luck, Ladybug,” she said smiling warmly. “You saved my boyfriend when he was akumatised. This is the least I can do.”

Marinette nodded again and held Chat firmly, jumping on the rooftop as fast as her legs could take her. She immediately saw that three men dressed in blue were waiting at the back entrance of the next building, near what looked like a gurney and an ambulance. She jumped off right beside them.

“We’ve been waiting for you, Ladybug. Nadja Chamack rang the hospital to warn us of your arrival. Please allow me to take him,” one of the nurses said, as he tried to take Chat from her arms.

She initially resisted, but then heard Chat’s ring giving a louder beep, so she gave in. “Please, we need to hurry. One minute and our transformations will fall,” she pleaded. The man’s gaze became stern. He held Chat firmly and moved steadily towards the gurney next to him. He carefully put Chat on it and quickly pushed the gurney inside the building, trying to move it hastily to the corridor leading to a door labelled ‘PU - Urgences’ (1).

A loud beep came from her earrings, and in a flash of pink, Marinette’s transformation fell as she sped next to the nurses, not even trying to hide her face from the crowd that had gathered all around her. Her gaze stayed firmly focused on Chat and on the nurses who were putting what she thought could be an oxygen mask on his mouth and nose, taking advantage of a moment when the gurney stopped because of the crowd. She didn’t even pay any attention to Tikki, who had come out of the earrings and had looked at her worryingly before flying into her purse.

“Ew, what’s that?”

“A giant bug maman!”

“Does Ladybug keep bugs in her purse?”

“WILL YOU ALL PLEASE GO FASTER? HIS SUIT HELPS HIM, BUT THIS COULD BE THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HIS LIFE OR HIS DEATH! HE’S ONLY GOT A FEW MORE SECONDS TO SPARE!” She could swear that she saw a few flashes and tried to cover her face as best she could. Suddenly she felt someone’s arms wrap around her as a jacket was thrown over her head.

“There’s nothing else to see people, let the gurney pass!” a male voice said. She knew that voice… where had she heard that voice before?

They went through the doors of the PU and walked hastily a little longer until the gurney stopped and moved ninety degrees. The jacket was removed from her head as she heard the zipping sound of curtains being pulled all around them. A quick glance to her surroundings made her realise that they were in a sort of cubicle, protected from the view by a set of blue paper curtains, and the doctors and nurses were surrounding Chat, plugging different cables and machines all around him.

“Where do I plug the oximeter?” one of the nurses asked. She looked very young and a bit pale. She held a sort of peg in her hands, plugged into a machine and tried to attach it to one of Chat’s cat ears. “Nope. Does he have human ears?” She moved his hair at the side of his head and Marinette heard her sighing in relief as she attached the peg to something.

“What happened to him, how did he get hurt, Miss Ladybug?” she heard a doctor ask and she suddenly looked up, realising that the man was talking to her.

“Oh… he fell off the Eiffel Tower…” she started to say. Then she heard the last beep of her partner’s ring and in a flash of green his transformation fell. As Plagg twirled out of the ring and fell with a loud sob on top of Chat’s head, Marinette couldn’t stop her gaze from following the black kwami and running straight to the blond boy laying on the bed.

The plastic mask covered almost all his face, but even with that on, there was not a chance in hell that Marinette wouldn’t recognise his blond mane, now combed neatly to the side of his head and clean from the dirt, but not from the blood that plastered the side of his face. Pale; he was as pale as a ghost. She only caught a glimpse of his face before someone’s arms wrapped around her and held her tight. But that glimpse was enough.

No.

NO!

NOO! It couldn’t be...

“Gamin? Talk to me! Are you okay?” she heard Plagg say. Then, she saw something red dashing around the room, grabbing Plagg, oblivious of his objections, and disappearing behind the curtain. “Tikki, you don’t understand! I need to tell Pigtails! He’s been poi—” the little God of destruction whimpered as he was dragged away. She wasn't sure, but she thought she had seen tears at the corner of Plagg’s electric green eyes. Even her own eyes filled with tears, her chest shaken by loud sobs.

“Mar-Ladybug, it’s okay. He will be safe,” someone said, hugging her tight, but it sounded far away, like a whisper from a different time. "Marinette can you hear me? It's me, Luka," he added in a lower tone of voice. But all Marinette could hear were the sudden angry beeps of the machines in front of her, having gone mad the second Chat's transformation fell. A horde of doctors and nurses rushed to the gurney, busying themselves with plugging in more cables and hooking up strange machines to Chat's body and face.

“Sorry, Mlle. Ladybug, can you please wait over there? We need space!” Marinette heard the voice of one of the doctors say, and she felt Luka’s arms wrapping tighter around her as he tried to move her backwards.

She resisted sternly. That face. She had just given one quick glance to that face. She had to see it again, to see that it wasn’t the face she thought. She wriggled out of Luka’s hold and jerked towards the gurney, peeking around the doctors at work and trying to give another quick look, earning quite a few glares from a couple of nurses.

The neatly combed blond mane framed the handsome face of the boy she would recognise among thousands. As pale as a ghost. His once peachy lips now dry and blue under the transparent plastic mask. His beautiful green eyes closed. Why of all people did it have to be him?

She screamed.

"It's okay, Mar-Ladybug! He will be alright!" Luka's voice said again, his arms firmly wrapped around her shoulders to stop her from lunging straight to the bedside.

"ADRIEEEEN!!!" Her heart-wrenching screams came loud and clear in between the sobs that rocked her chest and lungs.

"Marinette? What… Adrien? Oh girl you must be kidding me! Mar… La-Ladybug?" This was Alya's voice. She heard Luka shushing her, and Alya’s eyes widened, as she corrected herself. What was Alya doing here?

Suddenly, a pair of extra arms wrapped around her from her left side. Another pair from the right, in a vice grip that kept her from going to him, that kept pushing her backwards.

A female voice spoke, the masked emotions trickling in through the tremble in her voice. “You can't go over there! You'll only get in the way of the doctors working on him! Stay here!”

“ADRIE—” A hand cupped over her mouth, barely able to muffle the sounds of heartbreak seeping out of her.

"Shhhhh! Do you want everyone to know, Ma-Ladybug?" It was Kagami's voice. She nearly didn’t recognise it, as the usually confident and blunt tone of the Japanese girl was missing completely. She sounded shaken and emotionally drained. Marinette darted her gaze around to notice that Alya was standing at her right and Kagami at her left, and they were both holding her tight, supporting Luka who held her from behind.

They were all there with her. She wondered when they arrived and how they knew where they were. Nadja probably had told them where she was heading, and they were allowed through the door of the PU before detransforming, Marinette thought, but the sight of Adrien being picked up carefully by one of the nurses and transferred into a hospital bed stopped the last of her rational thoughts from coming through. New sobs shook her chest, as new tears rolled off her cheeks. She buried her face in Alya's chest not even attempting to stop sobbing desperately.

Because Chat was Adrien. And Adrien could die. And it was her fault…

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

Notes:

(1) PU - Pavillon des Urgences (A&E/ER)

(2) SUSI - Service d'Urgences et de Soins Intensifs (A&E/ER, Emergency and Intensive Care department)

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

Author's Note:

Hi! *Keeps hiding*

I know, I know, this is probably the most catastrophic reveal ever. Please don't hate me!

I'll cut the fluff and get straight to the point. In the next instalment of "When Magic fails", “Secrets in the Open”:

— “We will need to put stitches on this cut at the side of his head.”

— “He has the right to choose how to live his own life!”

— “Chat Noir hasn’t just been injured. He’s been poisoned. And it’s not just an average poison. It’s extremely dangerous.”

I know, I'm cruel. If you want to kill m—, I mean, if you read this and you’re not part of our wonderful Discord server already, but you enjoy reading, writing and talking about Miraculous, please join our Discord server, Miraculous Fanworks (for people on FFN, discord dot gg slash mlfanworks). See you there soon, and see you soon here with the next chapters of this story. Won’t be too long. Promise!

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia Ch 13

Waking up late was so not the plan for today.

What was supposed to be a nice lovely day is slowly turning into your personal hell. Racing around the kitchen trying to keep an eye on your potatoes as you cut up the other veggies for the pie. So you can shove it into the oven then get ready.

Christ why hadn't you thought to prep your ingredients earlier?

Thankfully the cobbler was super simple tossing the sugar and flour into the bowl followed by the a cup of lemonade. Perfect cobbler base. After the batter was creamy you threw in the freshly washed blackberries. They bled a deep red into the batter around them. You had high hopes as you topped it with butter and threw it into the oven.

Both dishes had very quick bake times so you weren't too worried or stressed about them taking forever. In all honesty the only reason you were frantically running around your kitchen was prepping the inside of the forager's pie. And giving the mashed potatoes an essence of rosemary and garlic as if you were a chef on par with Gordon Ramsey.

Should you do dishes?

No, there's no time to worry about that.

Soon the cobbler is out of the oven and you have replaced it with the two pans of forager's pie. You don't give the cobbler any time to cool as you place the aluminum lid to the pan so the heat stays.

With that taken care of you speed off to your room and grab your outfit. The mini pencil skirt you'd purchased yesterday paired with some shorts so you didn't have to be careful with your movements all day. A plain block colored shirt in a cute primary palette. Finishing with yellow converses.

Changing doesn't take long but you do take some extra time on your hair choosing to style it a bit different today. As you're debating on if you should put the time into a fun makeup look your neck snaps harshly to the right.

There is no crack but it did hurt like hell.

As if that had been a sign from God you opt for your normal look. There will be other events and times for you to do fun looks, but not today.

The oven beeps as the timer goes off letting you know the pies are ready. Just a sprinkle of cheese on top before you cover them with the lid and you are all set to go.

Checking the time you see it's nine-o-two, and while the picnic was scheduled for ten thirty you are a committee member and should be there early to help set up. So without anymore hesitation you are flying out of the house and into your car.

You rush back from placing the food in the backseat to make sure your door is locked.

It is and you are free to enjoy the day...you hope.

Speeding would be the biggest understatement of the year. You were practically at the lodge in fifteen minutes and bustling up to the door. Opening it you rush in ignoring anyone you pass by in your mad dash to the kitchen.

“Hello to you too.” Barclays voice carries from the stove as you whisk past him to place two of your pans on the counter.

“Hi, Tim?” you say out of breath from your one person marathon. Practically vibrating in place unwilling to loose your momentum despite your need for a second wind.

Barclay just points to the den and you're out of the kitchen just as fast as you had entered. Most patrons in the den don't spare you a second glance used to your whirlwind mannerisms when your trying to follow a deadline. As self appointed as it may be.

There is one trio however giving you a mix of concerned and amused looks. Which quickly turn into concerned and interest when you make a bee line straight for them.

“Hi,” you say to Toby and Brian before looking at Tim and pushing the cobbler at him, “Thanks again  for last night.”

Tim can't even get a word out because as soon as he grabs the pan you're already back off to the kitchen. Determined to help Barclay with something before everyone starts moving to the Archway. You hear the chorus of chuckles coming from everyone as you leave a confused Tim, who now has to answer to the questioning glances of his friends, in your wake.

Barclay needed no help as you guessed but he was however open to you covering the food and stacking certain items together before helping to load everything into crates for easier transport. It wasn't long before the others start to make their way into the kitchen to get briefed on the plan.

You notice the trio being motioned in by Jake who holds the door open for them to make their way in too. Brian politely takes the door from Jake as Tim steps in place in front of him and Toby. The jerky movements of Toby's eyes as he scans the room is really hard to ignore. But it doesn't seem like he's looking for anything just taking note of who is in the kitchen and where they are.

“Ok, first thank you all for helping set up the picnic today. I really appreciate it.” Barclay's baritone voice says jostling you out of your thoughts to focus in on him.

“Second, we really don't have much to do for set up since most guests already have their baskets with them. We do have a few spares to lay down though. We'll be splitting off into three teams.” Barclay then points at you, Hollis, Jake, and Kirby.

“Team A is in charge of setting up the spare baskets.”

After getting your group's approval he continues down the line.

Team B consists of Brian, Tim, Toby, and Indrid. Their group is to bring out and set the tables that'll hold the food. Team C is Barclay, Aubrey, Dani, and Madeline. Team C will bring the main courses along with the heaters to keep everything warm.

With teams set and in place you all take to your positions and get a move on before the public arrives. You vaguely wonder why the Hornets aren't here yet but remember most had decorated and cleared out the Archway over the past couple of days. Pushing the thoughts away you grab two baskets and follow after your team. Thankfully there were only a few left over baskets, eight if you include Jake and Hollis' and then your own. Each member of your team carried two baskets through the thicket of trees until you reached the clearing of the archway.

It looked amazing, you'd only been out here one other time back when Bambi was still around. She took you out at night and the two of you just talked about anything and everything, including theories about the giant archway that towered over the clearing and just how it may have come to be.  Back then it had been a field of long grass and purple wildflowers. The grass was so thick the two of you used sticks to move it and insure there'd be no snakes harmed in your late night hike. Now though the grass had been cut save for aesthetically calculated patches of wildflowers and clovers here and there. The field was absolutely perfect for the event, and with the gorgeous blue skies partially clouded the scenery really seemed to pop out.

Especially the small lake glittering just past the archway. You'd never noticed it before but then again you came here in the dead of night.

Getting back to work you set out on placing the spare baskets a reasonable distance from the others. Close enough  to other blankets to feel included but far enough away to have their own space if that was their thing. When you had finished you take your own basket and join Hollis and Jake who finished placing their four baskets down faster with two people. They'd been setting up their own blanket on the outer rim of the perimeter, closer to the treeline than to the Archway. As if they were going to overlook the even and keep an eye out. Which they probably would be, just to ensure that everyone had fun and stayed safe.

Seeing you standing just a few feet away from the blanket Jake gives you his patented superstar smile.

“C'mon, join the party YN.”

With the easy going invitation you fix your blanket beside theirs. This way at one point or another you'd see a majority of your friends today as you knew for a fact they'd come over or be dragged over into seeing the couple beside you.

Kirby joins you three after lazily placing his baskets side by side closer to the archway. With the hustle and fuss of your prep work being done you can take a moment to take everything in.

“I love the shirt.” you say looking at Kirby's 'I'm not Allo but 20$ is 20$' shirt.

He gives a grin before presenting a folded up shirt out of his messenger bag.

“Thought you might...don't wear it now though. Don't want you copying my style, that'd be sad.” he jokes.

“Pfft, please everyone would know it's you who copied me.”

Jake and Hollis watch as the two of you continue your playful banter. Occasionally voicing whose side they were on, Hollis took Kirby's while Jake took yours. It was a fun way to pass the time as the other groups finished setting up.

Especially since you had Mr. Cool Guy himself on your side. How could you possibly not be the trend setter sibling with his vote.

Before long the other groups were also setting up their own baskets, which had been brought out by Barclay and Indrid a few hours earlier. And some Hornets started showing up not too long after that. Either rushing around trying to set up their baskets or sit down with friends after placing their food away. Though the event hadn't really started yet you could hear Aubrey starting up her music a few blankets away. She'd already gathered a small crowd that was chittering away.

Taking it all in you notice a certain trio looking incredibly awkward and out of place. You get up and make your way over to the men ready to invite them to sit with you. After all it's an eight person blanket it'd be a shame to sit all by yourself next to another full blanket.

Toby's dark eyes lock on to you first, you really suspect this boy has ADHD with his quick reflexes and spacial hyper awareness. He actually seems to deflate a bit, like the tension in his shoulders started to disappear the closer you got. You apparently weren't the only one to notice the subtle change in the brunette as Tim focused in on Toby. Meanwhile Brian clocked you just before you were within ten feet of their little group.

“Hey I have an empty blanket if you guys wanted to join.”

Just getting straight to the point was your thing. Most see your bluntness as rudeness but you just don't see a point in dancing around your message.

“Yea, that'd be nice.” Toby spoke before the other two could.

Smiling at him you hold a hand out for him to grab. You aren't really sure what possessed you to do that, but figure you must be in a rare tactile mood. Unlike when you're touched if you initiate the contact it doesn't hurt or squick you out. He grabs your hand and you can feel the scratch of his callouses. You remember Hollis said something about him being a mechanic, that would explain the tough hands.

You lead the trio over to your blanket where only Kirby sits, seems like didn't bring his basket and was going to share with you. Not that you mind at all, in fact this was the perfect time to introduce one friend to another.

“Kirby time to make a good impression.” you call out gaining his attention.

He takes a moment before taking note of the group you're guiding over. Kirby stands up to greet you all.

“Kirby this is my friend Tobias, and his roommates Tim and Brian.” you motion to the other two with your unoccupied hand.

Noticing for the first time that they have their hands interlocked. Not holding like you and Toby are but a more intimate hand hold.

'These bitches gay...good for them. Good for them.' is just playing on repeat as background noise in your head. Ignoring the loop in your brain you continue the introduction.

“This is Kirby, my brother or whatever.” Kirby snorts at your short introduction.

“I'll take it, 's a step up from gremlin.” he turns to the trio hand extended, “Nice to meet you guys.”

After the weird neurotypical ritual is over the five of you sit down and talk while you wait for the festivities to begin. Tim and Kirby dragging Brian along for the deep dive of god awful horror movies.

“You didn't mention a brother.” Toby says fiddling with your hand, someone really needs to get this guy a fidget toy.

“Huh? Oh no. No, not like that Kirby's more like a brother than my biological brother.” you pause while thinking how to explain this more articulately.

“We're just really similar and people thought we were dating, I guess, before we started calling each other 'sibling'.” it's really weird that that was even an issue. At least to you but Allos tend to be weird about mixed gender relationships.

For instance Brian and Tim can get written off as the best of best friends. But you and Kirby decide to sit next to each other for one Saturday Night Dead and the town is already waiting for wedding invites. Maybe this is a small town thing...you'll still blame the Allos.

Toby nods along, whether he actually understands or is trying to move from the topic you can't quite tell. You look down at his hand that's bending your fingers into your palm. His nail beds look better than last week you hope it means he wasn't picking at his skin. It's really not a great coping mechanism.

You let out a small sigh as you get lost in the feeling of Toby playing with your fingers. You're trying to think of something to talk about but the motions are kind of drowning out your thoughts. You can see why this might've been helpful the for Toby last week in the forest.

“...We're friends?” you aren't really sure if that was a question or a statement.

“Yea! Well at least I'd like to be. It's fine if you don't want to though.”

Toby gives a small smile to that, and releases your hand. It seems his anxiety has gone away for the most part. Maybe having the reassurance of another friend is all he needed. Just a little more moral support to get him out of his shell.

You smile back at him as he leans back on his hands. It's nice that you both can enjoy the day without your masks, even if you do feel a bit naked without yours. You wonder how Toby's been holding up wearing only the bandage over his scar. But you know you probably aren't at the friendship level needed to question him about it. No matter how nonchalant he'd been about eating in front of you that first day.

“How're the repairs coming?”

Toby rolls his eyes and lets out a frustrated groan, and for a moment you're concerned you upset him.

“It's a fah-fah-cuck...king rust bucket. Like Jesus fucking Christ first the AC blows out so I check the compressor...” he pauses and squints his eyes at you, “do you know cars?”

“Dad's a mechanic so I know enough. But you're talking about an RV unit and not a regular cabin AC might get a little lost but I can at least lend an ear. Like a rubber duck.”

The right side of Toby's mouth pulls a confused sneer, but his attention is soon turned to Brian who's chuckling having heard what you said.

“'s a coding thing Toby.”

“Uh...okay?” Toby just resigns himself to not understanding this particular topic and continues on.

“Yea so sorta the same basis, I guess. The units still pull air from outside into the vents and use a refrigerant liquid to cool the air it pushes out.” he pauses to make sure you're still following.

After you nod he continues to explain how it runs so the fans and circuits seem to be in order. There isn't a leak in the coils and the liquid's been replenished but it still isn't running cold. You nod while giving him a patient smile as you let him tear through his rant about the “piece of shit unit” because it seems this has been building in him for the past few days.  When he comes to the end of his rant the only thing you can really think to say is.

“That sounds rough.”

Not the most eloquent thing but Toby seems to come down from his vent high, after a few deep breaths.

“Yea it mrrow was. Well is.” he cuts his eyes back to the trio across from you noticing how they all seem invested in their own conversation now.

“Why'd you give Tim a cobbler?” looks like you two will be playing twenty questions today.

“He scared off the creep for me last night.” you shrug causing your neck to jerk to the side.

“'the' creep? Wait! The one that drugged you?” Toby is so lucky he can't feel pain because even you felt that crack that ripped through his neck as he whipped his head towards you.

And honestly you're kinda surprised it didn't draw anyone's attention to you two.

“First I don't think I was drugged, he might've just sent me into a panic attack.”

“Oh sorry the creep that sent you into a panic attack.” you really hate when people interrupt you like that he's really lucky you understand he's actually just paying attention to you rather than talking over you. You'd punch him if it wasn't the case. Punch him right in his cute snarky face.

“Bitch.” You do punch him, in his arm, he lets out a monotone 'ow'. You decide against punching him again for that, it was a hard choice though.

“Anyway, second yea same one. I just really don't like the guy and last night he'd been bothering Ronnie when I stopped by the gas station. She'd apparently forgotten Tim had gone on break and when I tried bluffing that he was there well...”

You took some time to explain the situation last night to Toby. Leaving out the parts where Not Tim showed up. After thinking on that you figure there was a possibility of Tim having an alter that he may or may not know about. And you aren't sure what the etiquette is for this sort of thing, like if Tim did know were you suppose to let him tell you or should you let him know you'd technically met his alter. Judging from Toby's face, the guy really wears his heart on his sleeve, he seems confused about something.

Maybe Tim  didn't remember last night and Toby was asking for him. That does put a bit more weight on your alter theory. And it seems to have more traction as something seems to click in Toby's head. He doesn't share whatever is making him nod. So you leave it be.

Before you know it an hour has past the field nearly full of town residents and Barclay, with his mighty megaphone, start calling people over for food so you all grab a plate from the basket.

“I want purple.” Kirby tells you.

“I could literally hand you any of these and you'd tell me 'thanks'.”

“That's pretty fucking ablest YN.”

You pause and look at the other three on the blanket.

“Is being colorblind a disability?”

A “Yes” from Brian followed by Tim and Toby's deadpan expressions and “No”s.

“Three against two, not ablest just honest...this is purple.” you had half a mind to hand him indigo.

Your group goes and gets food, debating the legitimacy of colorblindness being a disability, before heading back to your blanket. No sooner had you sat down are you body slammed into the ground. The familiar weight of an overexcited eleven year old smothering you.

“Hi can I sit with you?” before you can reply the rest of the Cowell family finds their way over.

“Josephine Cowell, I'm so sorry YN she's just been so excited all weekend. Josephine get off of YN you know they aren't very tactile.” Dia called.

Unlike her husband's hulking form Dia was a petite frail woman, you honestly wouldn't be surprised if Jo towered over her mother in a few years. And though she was small she had a fierceness to her that normally kept both the Jos in line.

“It's not a problem Dia. Jo I think you should eat with your parents first, we have all day to hang out.” Her eyes seem to sparkle with excitement and you can see her mother's apologetic expression just past her.

Understandably Dia is concerned with Jo taking up your personal time. The young girl sees you as an older sibling and wants to spend any second she can with you, but you aren't family. You're a young adult who has their own life to live. The last thing you need is to be babysitting the tween while you tried to relax with your friends today. Dia would do her best to have Jo give you some space.

“Hey you guys can just drop your blanket over here, we don't mind.” Janette, local mean lesbian, calls from Hollis and Jake's blanket.

Jo looks ecstatic at the thought and rushes to her father to pull him over to the area so they can place the blanket down. Booping her nose occasionally in her excitement.

“Hey Dia, Marnie's coming in an hour or so, soccer game got rescheduled. Jo will have someone her age to bug.”

“Marnie's coming?” leave it to a tween to finish setting up and get a plate of food all in under five minutes.

She's not even trying to be on her family's blanket as she plops down next to you. Taking notice of you staring she gives a wide grin practically buzzing with excitement. A bit too much excitement as she starts rapidly blinking, triggering your own as well. At least you have practice eating like this, unlike Jo who only just developed this tic.

After your tics subside Jo eats with you and just goes on into her usual tween drama stories. She's got to keep you up to date after all. It's like a soap opera just less adult topics and no evil clones. Kirby and Nate catch up and somehow rope Tim and Brian into their conversation as well. Toby just sits quietly eating and giving you amused looks every time you lock eyes.

You can't help but feel you're forgetting to do something every time you lock eyes with the brunette. The issue seems to resolve itself when a 'mrrow' slips from Toby as he takes a drink, causing him to cough from swallowing wrong.

An unconscious effort on your part, you lean and rub small circles into his back. Trying to calm his coughs. A mistake as the tween in front of you zeros in on the man as if she's just noticed he existed.

“Hi! Who are you?” if her eyes could turn into stars they would.

“uh...” Toby looks to you for help, as if the child talking to him was an alien species. “Toby...” he says uncertainly after receiving no input from you.

“Toby....”

“Rogers?”

“Are you YN's boyfriend?” Toby wishes he had an excuse to cough now.

His face flushes at the question and before he can sputter out any tongue tied response another 'mrrow' rips through him and his head harshly tilts back. Jo's eyes widen at the tic, she excitedly looks between the two of you. And you aren't sure what's going through her mind at the moment.

“OMG Do you have tourette's? Does he have tourette's or is he like you?” she's practically vibrating as she bounces between questioning both of you.

“umm...touretter's?” you say in Toby's place as the man beside you can't function a sentence right now.

Jo literally squeaks in excitement at the new development.

“I'm Jo Cowell, YN's self appointed sibling. I have tourette's too, I've had it since I was five. How long have you had tourette's?”

It felt like Jo's never ending barrage of questions was just that never ending. Toby took everything in stride, aside from the awkward dating questions. And for how worried she was about her daughter bugging you today every time you tried to catch Dia's eye she was somehow wrapped up in another conversation or her husband. Your saving grace came in a four foot two package wearing a dirty soccer uniform and sporting a fresh black eye followed closely by her frazzled step mother.

“Yikes, ball to the face or fight with the other team?” Janette asked her daughter as she walked towards the blankets.

“Fell off the bleachers.” fucking how? “Jo want to run some drills with me?” Marnie asked with a grin missing her front tooth, and before you know it your blanket was down an occupant and Toby was free of the never ending hell he'd been placed in.

“Do...do you want to take a walk? Get away for a minute.” you asked looking at the positively ruffled man next to you.

He nods numbly and follows after you into the tree line. You both just walk for a bit until Toby's complexion looses any rosiness. When he's back to his normal greyish cool tones you stop to rest. Leaning against a tree Toby follows your lead but slides down the base resting his arms on his knees as his head hits the tree behind him.

“Sorry about her, Jo can be excitable.” you'd remembered as soon as her tirade began that you should have warned him she'd lock on to his tics.

That was a near replica of your first encounter with the tween. Too late to change that now.

“I didn't mind,” he gives a boxy grin up at you “'s just how siblings are.”

There's a fond tone in his voice as he says that. And the gleam in his eyes tell a story of experience with that sort of thing.

“You've got siblings?”

“Yea, an older sister.” he sighs and looks down and the grin falls into a neutral look.

There's a story there, but you aren't one to pry. If he wants to indulge you or even himself he will in his own time. However, a joke should be able to disturb the tension that threatens to darken your moment.

“Oh I bet you were an absolute menace to her.” giving a good natured chuckle, one Toby returns as the fond look in his eyes came back.

“For your information I was a delight as a child.”

“Pfft yea I bet. And just how many times did you break an arm falling out of a tree?”

Toby looks stunned for a moment. Was that something weird to say? You remember the summer nearly everyone in your grade broke their arms falling out of a tree. Hell you would've too if you hadn't landed in a bush, all you got were some gnarly bruises and a few thorns stuck in you. Then you swore a vow to only climb thick limbed trees.

“Like twice...but..how did, how did you know?”

“It wasn't a universal thing? I just figured since we were both from Virginia like your class would've also had like sixteen kids break their arm or something over the summer.”

“Well I was home schooled so I wouldn't know.”

“Wait, like home schooled home schooled, or church home schooled. There's a difference.” giving you a sneer he just shrugs.

“Fucking home schooled home schooled. Don't see how that makes a difference.”  he pops his knuckles. Jerkiness of the motion indicating his tic rather than his choice.

“One you're supposedly taught science and the other you're told Jesus loves you.” you deadpan as you slide down the tree mirroring Toby's position.

“I had two friends, they were twins, who were church home schooled until high school. Nice girls but only so many times I can pretend to know what the hell a veggie tale is.”

Toby snorts and shakes his head. This is probably all you'll get from him about his early life. But he's not dancing around the questions as much as he was a few weeks ago. The quiet is nice and you could honestly just spend the rest of the day in the forest. A cool breeze blows through the trees and you catch the smells from the picnic. For some reason it seems to make you queezy, you'll probably stay here a while longer. You might be getting overstimulated.

“What...what was public school like?”

The question sort of shocks you breaking the moment. And you just stared at Toby for a while before you actually thought of an answer. The answer you wanted to say was “hell, it was straight hell”. You don't think he's talking about the institution itself and more the experience. So you tell him.

You start to weave together a picture spanning twelve long years for Toby. Telling him of pranks or jokes learned, older siblings bugged, holidays celebrated, tearful goodbyes, joyous reunions. Paint pictures of gossiping friends, Jane Austin worthy rumors, unified students banding together to change outdated rules, snowball fights in the courtyard, Snapchat stories shared through the school. The distance that gets put into place the second you aren't legally required to spend all your time with people. The feeling of emptiness as you try to navigate a world you were never prepared for...and doing that alone.

You tried to condense it but you went off into a lot of stories and probably gave him way too much context for everything. But Toby sat there and absorbed everything you had to say. When your mood dropped as you finished he only had one thing to say.

“Sounds like it sucked.”

Looking at him you could see the worried brow and small half smile on his lips. It was reassuring in a sense.

“Yea, yea it did.”

The two of you sat and stared at each other for a bit. A sort of connection being formed from a not so similar but not quite unsimilar schooling maybe. Or the acceptance that someone didn't have to be just like you to get you.

There isn't really a lot of time to dwell on that as a pop is heard followed shortly there after by a crack and sizzle. Soon Toby's face was bathed in a blue glow, as was the surrounding area. Another pop came and the crack and sizzle followed after. Bathing the forest in a neon green hue. Looking up in time to see a third and fourth flare go up and watching them expand in a firey orange and yellow burst. Fizzling out as they made their way down.

“I didn't know there'd be fire...fireworks.” he's tense at his tree as he swallowed the lump that you clearly heard in his throat.

“Yea I...I didn't either.” looking back to Toby you hold out a hand, “Wanna head back to the lodge?”

He pulls his dark eyes away from the sky to look at you and your outstretched hand. Not a moment later he has grabbed your hand and is yanking you into a standing position with him. Leading the way to the lodge as if he were a bat flying out of Hell. His ability to lead you both deftly through the dimly lit forest with barely any sunlight was pretty impressive. At least it would've been had you bee able to focus on it rather than cringing from the noise.

When you get to the lodge Toby doesn't say anything, nor does he let go of your hand. You feel like he's completely forgotten about you even though you're literally joined together. Toby pushes through the doors and makes his way up the stairs. Without a word you let him lead you to where ever it is he's going.

Based on his behavior you have a pretty good guess. When Toby pulls out his room key with his other hand you know you're correct. And that waiting inside would be a very good boy.

“Connor pressure.” are the only words out of Toby's mouth as he flings open the door and falls back onto the ground.

Thankfully he'd let go of your hand. Since he all but dragged you here you figure he could use the company. Closing his door you go over and sit beside his prone form. Not saying a word to each other, just waiting for the others to get back from the festivities.

[lils-writes-stuff]

The Lesson

Spencer Reid x reader

Best Years Season 2 part four | part three | part two | part one | season one

summary: the week that changed everything

warning: normal criminal minds things, angst, sadness, gore, fun stuff

A/N: based on season 8 episode 10; you’re all going to hate me, im sorry, i promise it gets better the is the storm before the rainbow

 The cool Georgia air hit Y/N’s face as she stepped out of her rental car. The scene in front of her seemed so foreign after years of being away. Her childhood home stared her down as she stood in its driveway. She almost didn’t want to go in. Every time she saw her mom, she came to visit her. So the last time she was truly home, was almost six years ago. 

 She walked up to the front door, duffel bag in one hand and the other raised to knock. However, that wasn’t needed, because her mom swung the door open the minute she saw her. 

 “Y/N!” She exclaimed, wrapping her in a tight, motherly hug.

 “Hi Mom,” she whispered, her cheeks squished against her mother’s shoulder. 

 “Come in, come in,” she ushered her daughter into the house. Y/N looked around the home she once called her own. The walls were a lighter color then she remembered and there was new furniture and decorations scattered throughout. 

 “So I have it all planned out, I know you’re only here for a couple of days, but tonight, you’re aunt and uncle are coming over for dinner, along with some of our friends. Them for the other two days we can do whatever you want.” Her mom was standing on the opposite side of the island from Y/N, a smile absorbing her face as she looked at her daughter. 

 Y/N just looked at her mom, a watery smile on her face. She wasn’t upset at all though, she was just so happy to see her mom again. 

 “What’s wrong, sweetie?” Her Mom walked to the other side of the counter. 

 “Nothing, Mom, I just am so glad to see you,” she whimpered. 

 Her mom gave her the same watery smile and wrapped her in another hug. 

 The two sat in the kitchen, coffee cups in hand, laughing about her mom’s stories at her restaurant she worked at. Y/N told stories of the team and how much they loved her mom from her visits up there. 

 “So have you done it yet?” Y/N’s mom asked, pointing to her left hand. 

 “No, not yet.” 

 “Why not?” 

 “I don’t know, I just haven’t found the right time I guess,” Y/N shrugged.

 “Well, I think that when you get back you should just do it.” Her mom laughed taking another sip of her coffee. “You talk about how perfect he is and me and London are waiting in anticipation for that call, so just do it. The next time you see him.” 

 “We’ll see mom, we’ll see.” 

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

 It had been two days since Y/N had left to go home for a visit. After the night where Spencer gave her the idea, she waited about three weeks before actually executing it. Spencer kept pushing her to go, telling her the team could survive without her. So she finally went. 

 “You know, now I know how you felt when I was gone on your leave,” Spencer laughed during his confession. His phone was pressed against his ear as he passed back and forth in their living room. 

 “Oh yeah, but I learned to survive, how are you holding up?” Y/N asked through the phone. She stood in the kitchen of her childhood home, leaning on the island with her coffee sitting in front of her. “And besides it’s only been like what? Three days?” 

 “Two days twelve hours and thirty-six seconds,” Spencer corrected. 

 “Ah, forgive me. And here I thought you didn’t miss me at all, clearly, you do.” 

 Spencer chuckled at her remark, “So much.”

 “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I miss you too,” Y/N admitted. “And my mom misses you too, she says that we both need to come down here and visit together sometime.” 

 “I think that’d be fun,” Spencer said.  

 “Hey, Spence, so listen I was thinking when I get back we could go out to dinner, you know like a fancy restaurant maybe?” Her voice was hesitant at her request. Her heart pounded in anticipation as she waited for Spencer’s answer. 

 “Sure, that sounds great. Rossi was telling me about this great Italian place yesterday that we could go too,” Spencer responded. His mind raced at the thought of them going, knowing it would be the perfect opportunity to ask her the question he’s been waiting for. 

 “Perfect,” she responded. He could see her do her little jump of excitement through her voice. 

 Spencer was quiet for a second and looked up at the larger than average sized clock in the living room. He was late. Then his phone pinged, pulling it away from his ear, he saw the message from Penelope about a case.

 “Damn it,” he muttered. “Y/N, I’m late and we’ve got a case, I love you, I’ll talk to you later?” He rushed around the apartment, grabbing all his items and go-bag so he could head out the door. 

 “Yeah, sounds good bub love you too,” she responded. 

 “Bye.” 

 Spencer pocketed his phone quickly and rushed for the door of the apartment. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the black box he left out. Quickly, he picked it up and put it in his satchel. He opened the door and rushed to make it to Quantico in time. 

 “Sorry I’m late, guys, I had an appointment,” Spencer rushed, taking his bag off and sitting in his chair. 

 “Uh-huh, did this appointment have to do with a Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, who you so dearly miss,” Derek teased, making kissy faces at Spencer.

 Spencer muttered a small ‘shut up’ and pulled the file on the table closer to him. 

 “Alright let’s get started,” Hotch said as he quickly entered the room. 

 Maybe I wasn’t as late as I thought, Spencer thought to himself. 

 “Yeah, okay,” Penelope said, standing up from her chair. “Three days ago, Bruce Phillips was found dead with his blond hair dyed black. He had been put in a box and left on a busy street.”

 “A custom-made box,” Rossi noted as the picture of the box came up on the screen. 

 “Maybe our unsub was a carpenter,” Blake posed, twiddling with a pen in her hand. 

 “He stuffed him in there practically folding him in half,” Derek added. 

 Spencer looked at the pictures of the man in the box. His legs bent and broken at the knee and his head leaned back against the box. 

 “He had also been hung and restrained and that’s where the plot thickens like a bad soup,” Penelope explained as she pulled up the next two victims. “Yesterday, Justin Marks and Connie Foster, who were dating, they went missing two miles away from the first abduction site.” 

 “A couple? He’s escalating,” JJ remarked at the new information. 

 “Yes, this morning Justin’s body was found. He had been hung, he had been stuffed in a box in an alley. Officers say his brown hair had been dyed black. Connie is still missing,” Penelope continued. 

 “So he probably still has her,” JJ said. 

 “Why would he reject Justin overnight but keep the first male victim for two days?” Derek asked, not understanding the escalation. 

 “Something about him didn’t work,” Rossi responded, looking up from his file to the TV with the victims. “Look at his neck. He was hung multiple times.” 

 “The question is, what does he do with Connie?” Blake asked.

 “He could make her watch him abuse the men or have asphyxiated sex with them,” Spencer posed a theory. 

 “Well, a brunette male and a woman are crucial to this guy's fantasy,” Derek said. 

 “Well he’s kept Connie, maybe she’s the object of his desire,” JJ said. 

 “Well, our first order of business is finding her and then making sure he doesn’t do this again.” Hotch closed his file and stood up. “Wheels up in thirty.”

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

 Spencer sat on the coach of the jet, his head resting on the backside of his hand as his eyes followed the clouds that rolled beneath them. He thought about all the ways the dinner with Y/N could go, his fear of rejection showing itself as he thought about her saying no. But then he thought of her saying yes, a smile shining bright on her face and it allowed some of his anxiety to wash away. 

 Still, he was nervous. Penelope and JJ had tried to reassure him many times that she would say yes, even Blake thought so, but he was still scared. But isn’t everyone when they’re about to propose? 

 “Alright let’s go over victimology,” Hotch said, gaining everyone’s attention.

 Spencer peeled his eyes away from the window and back towards the group. 

 “Both male victims had their hair dyed black, and the woman is a brunette,” Hotch began the topic. 

 “The guys are similar, same ages, same builds,” Blake added. 

 “Hey were also abducted outside their homes, which were all in the same area,” Rossi continued. 

 “So they were probably being stalked,” Derek noted.

 “Was Connie with her boyfriend when she was abducted?” Spencer asked quickly. 

 “It looks that way,” JJ answered, then began to read from the file. “Her purse was found on the ground outside of his house.”

 “So this involves some kind of ruse,” Derek said.

 “It’s difficult to lure most people from the security of their own homes,” Spencer added, not sure about the ruse thing. 

 “Well, some people let their guard down,” Blake countered. 

 For some reason, Spencer started to become very defensive about this. “Yeah, but stalking victims vary their routes home. They enter and exit through different doors, they wear disguises. They don’t talk to anyone in their driveway. They hardly talk to anyone at all, They’re-they’re terrorized.”

 Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have gotten so worked up about that. But he couldn’t help but spew the stuff he had learned about victims of stalking onto everyone. He couldn’t help that instinctive feeling inside of him. 

 The team looked at him, confused and shocked gazes on their faces. They did not expect that outburst from him.

 “Okay, so maybe they were followed, Reid,” Derek said in hopes to have him back down his front he was putting up. “I mean, the bottom line is the unsub escalated. The first male was abducted alone, the second was with his girlfriend.” 

 “We, what do we know about her?” JJ asked, hoping to find some new information to help them. 

 “Connie was in her thirties, baked cakes for a living, she never had a run-in with the law,” Blake answered. 

 “Assuming he kept her, what’s the reason?” Rossi posted the new question. 

 “She’s the necessity, somehow she fits into his fantasy,” Blake replied. 

 “And so far, that need may be what’s keeping her alive,” Hotch added.

 “So what we know is that we have an unsub with a fantasy or a deep desire that requires the man to look a specific way,” Derek said, going over what they so far had. 

 “Since he rejected Justin so quickly, he’s probably looking for a replacement as we speak,” Spencer added.

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

 The doors of the elevator opened with a ding as Y/N reached the sixth floor of the FBI academy building. When she stepped out, a hand grasped tight on the strap of her bag, she was met with the familiar smell of coffee and paper. She had made it back earlier that day,the apartment her and Spencer shared empty when she arrived. So, not being able to deal with the quiet again, she decided to head to the office. 

  She was supposed to be in Georgia for another day, but when she heard there was a case, she really couldn’t help but come back. Her mom understood, she would have been leaving in the morning anyway. So before she went to the airport, Y/N visited her brother's grave like she had intended to do. 

 She stood about ten feet away from the headstone, fear of stepping on his body in the ground made her stomach turn. She told him all about her job and how proud she thought he’d be of her. How Derek had become an older brother to her when she moved up there. And she told him about Spencer. All about how she was planning on proposing to him and how excited she was to do it. 

 “Hey, I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow?” Penelope’s question brought Y/N out of her memory. 

 “Oh yeah, but I heard there was a case and I was leaving in the early morning tomorrow so I just decided to catch an earlier flight,” Y/N answered, pulling her lips into a line. 

 “Oh, so you get to hang out with me on this one!” Penelope excitedly took Y/N’s hand and pulled her to her office. 

 “So catch me up to speed,” Y/N said as she sat in the extra swivel chair in Penelope’s office. 

 Penelope explained everything she did to the team before they left and added in the details of what they told her so far on their victimology. With only some of the broader picture told to her, she was able to fill in the rest of the victimology herself.

 “How was Georgia?” Penelope asked after she finished typing on her computer. 

 “It was good, got to hang out with my family, go visit some old friends, wasn’t too exciting,” YN said, her eyes still trained on the tablet in her lap as she looked at the photos of the case. 

 “Cool,” Penelops’s eyes wandered the office. “ So, did you figure out how you’re going to propose to Spencer?” 

 “Ah, so that’s why you’re making small talk,” Y/N laughed, closing the tablet now. “Yes, I have. When they get back from the case, we’re going to go to dinner and I’m going to ask him.” 

 “Oh my gosh, can I be there? No, that’d be weird he’d be suspicious. But I want to see his reaction and you’re reaction and-” 

 “Garcia-” Y/N put her hand up to have her stop rambling- “You will see tons of pictures, and I am sure you are going to convince Rossi to throw some sort of party.” 

 “Good point, Penelope whispered. “I probably will have that done.” 

-----------

 “I’ve been getting lame GSWs, a few bus crash victims, but a hanging? This is fun,” The M.E., Dr. Cross, said to Rossi and Spencer after she brought them over to the body. “You think it was sexual?”

 “Not in the traditional sense,” Rossi responded, slightly weirded out from the woman's excitement. 

 “Well, look-” she pointed to the victim’s body- “there are numerous ligature marks on the neck, indicating he was hung multiple times. The ones without abrasions were probably made by something soft, like fabric.” 

 “Any idea how long it went on for?” Spencer asked, looking up from the victim's body to Cross.

 “Based on the different varying coloration of the bruising, I’d say about twelve hours,” Cross answered, then pointed to another mark on the body. “This ligature mark with the abrasion is the final one.” 

 She moved the light in her hand down the neck of the victim to point out what she found next. “There’s an inverted ‘V’ in the back. He was hung with a leather strap or belt, which is what killed him. Oh, we also found ketamine in his system.”   

 When Cross mentioned the final hanging, Spencer stood up from his hunched position and walked over to the x-rays on the light board. 

 “Well, ketamine acts quickly, so he must have used a ruse to get close to our victim,” Rossi said. 

 “Look at this,” Spencer held up the x-rays, “The bones were perfectly disjointed.”

 “Could have dislocated from the fall after hanging or when he shoved him in the box,” Rossi said, trying to give some ideas as to why they were dislocated. 

 “Well, actually, the bones were dislocated antemortem.,” Cross corrected. Her attention quickly advertised the two men wheeling in the next victim. “Oh,” she gasped excitedly. “Goody, overtime.” 

 “Can you check to see if the bones were dislocated in the same way?” Spencer asked her as she walked over to the next victim.

 She pulled the sheet back on the victim. Her hands reached for his arm to check the dislocation. “Yep, the same way.” She removed her hands from the body then crossed them. “This guy’s sicker than my last girlfriend.” 

 Rossi turned to look at Spencer. “The question is, why is he doing this?”

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

 Y/N sat with Penelope in her office still, she wasn’t really planning on leaving though, since the rest of the team was away. She held one of Penelope’s many figurines in her hand, this one was a small unicorn that squished. While it was very childish, Y/N couldn’t help but be entranced by the object. 

 “Oh yay, we have a call,” Penelope said as she answered the phone. “Garcia and Wonder woman at your service.” 

 “Can you find anyone in the area that might sell or rent medieval torture equipment?” Hotch asked, getting straight to the point as usual. 

 “Besides a friend of mine in a knitting group?” Penelope asked jokingly.

 “Try S&M suppliers, we’re looking for a stretching rack,” Rossi elaborated. 

 “Spanking the keys as we speak,” Penelope began typing. 

 “Ew,” Y/N said in disgust with Penelope’s phrase.

 “Don’t worry they like it,” Penelope reassured her. “Okay, I have cross-checked stretching equipment with S&M equipment and I found something that stretches something…”

 “I don’t think this is something that we’re looking for,” Y/N said as she looked at the photo. Her head turned at the item in confusion. “How does that even work?” 

 “Maybe he made his own,” Spencer’s voice was heard as he came up with the new idea. 

 “That would be pretty elaborate,” Rossi remarked.

 “Okay, me and Y/N will keep looking, we’ll get back to you soon,” Penelope said, her pen hovering over the hang-up button. 

 “Hang on Garcia,” Hotch stopped her from hanging up. “Y/N when did you get back?” 

 “Couple hours ago sir, I caught an earlier flight home,” Y/N responded. She hoped Hotch wouldn’t say anything about her being back earlier, she knew Spencer would call her later about it though. 

 “Alright, hit us back when you get something.”

 “Will do,” Y/N said and then Penelope hung up. 

-

 “I thought you said she wasn’t coming back until tomorrow?” Hotch looked at Spencer. 

 “I thought so too,” Spencer replied, having no clue that she was home early. 

 “I just went to the latest abductee’s home,” Derek said as he walked up to the three standing in the conference room. “Not only did our unsub use fake blood in some kind of ruse, but the front porch security cameras were also disconnected right before the abduction.”

 “So he cased the site,” Rossi observed from the information Derek had given. 

 “Well, it’s residential streets-- a lot of people coming and going, that’s high-risk behavior,” Derek mentioned.

 “Yeah, the unsub didn’t care. He needed him and it was worth the risk,” Hotch added. 

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

 Spencer peeled the tissue paper inside the box they found back. It’s light airy pink color contrasted with the dark horror inside. 

 “The box is wrapped this time,” Spencer said as he looked at balled up tissue paper. 

 “What is this, a gift?” Detective Marks asked. 

 Spencer pulled back some of the tissue paper from the top. He pulled back about four pieces before the face of the latest victim was revealed. The man that had been taken the day before. 

 “His natural hair color is black and still he kills him,” Hotch remarked as Spencer pulled more pieces of paper away. “And, look, no neck wounds.” 

 “Then how did he die?” Marks asked. 

 “Maybe he bled out,” Hotch suggested.

 “Or he fell from something,” Spencer argued as he examined the body more. “Look at his hands. He bored holes through the hands that ripped, and then he moved them to the wrist.” 

 “Reid, check the feet,” Hotch ordered, getting a hunch on what it could be. 

 Spencer pulled the victim’s shoe back, seeing the same type of hole. 

 “Stigmata?” Spencer asked as he had a theory forming. 

 “Hanging and then crucifixion,” Hotch explained the meaning of the word for the detective. 

 “So this has to do with religious beliefs,” Marks said. 

 “Maybe he just found a new way to torture them?” Spencer suggested. 

 “And still he’s keeping Connie. Something about her is working,” Hotch said.  

 Spencer’s eyes kept on the body. He went over every detail in his head, comparing it with the other bodies. Then he came up with a hit. 

 “Hotch look-” Spencer pointed to the jeans on the victim- “These are the exact same jeans that victim number two was wearing. Look at the trim.” 

 Spencer reached his hand into the box, pulling on the color of the shirt the victim had on. When he pulled it around enough, he could clearly read the tag. “Bonner Brothers. Is that a local store?” 

 “About five miles, half thrift store, half yuppie mart,” Marks answered.

 “I’ll have JJ and Morgan check it out after we give the profile,” Hotch said. 

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

 “Okay, so we’re looking for a white male, at least thirty due to the sophistication of the crimes,” Y/N began to deliver the profile to Penelope. She sat in the swivel chair behind her, her head leaning on its back. She held a pink pen in her hand as she twiddled with it to keep her somewhat entertained. 

 “He’s torturing his victims. From what I’ve discussed with the team, he’s trying to perfect a delusion, which he’s failed. Three times.”

 Penelope sat, her hands laying on her thighs as she listened intently to the profile. She only usually got a small paper description to help her search parameters, so it was really cool for her to see a profiler at work.

 “With most delusions like this, the reality never lives up to the unsubs expectation.” 

 “That is the truth with anything though,” Penelope commented on Y/N’s last statement. 

 “Yeah, anyway, his fantasy involves the torture and stretching-”

 “Okay, you can skip that part, my perfect, pure, and gore free office space doesn’t need that,” Penelope said, holding up her hands to stop Y/N and her face contorting in disgust. 

 “Okay,” Y/N laughed before she continued. “Before he kills them, the unsub fixes their hair and paints their nails. The last victim he escalated to crucifying him, I’ll spare you the details of that. Crucifixion was used for serious crimes, so the unsub probably believes that his victims have wronged him.”  

 Y/N sat back in her chair, making it spin in circles as she kept thinking. “Something isn’t working though in his fantasy, because he keeps discarding the men…”

 Y/N stopped the chair and grabbed the tablet off the table beside her. She pulled up the picture of the latest victim in the box. “He kills them, then ritualistically places them in a box with tissue paper, which is weird.” 

 “Why is it weird?” Penelope asked, on the edge of her seat like Y/N was reading her some sort of novel and was reaching the climax. 

 “Well his initial behavior dehumanizes them, so it means his victims he values more when they’re dead,” Y/N answered. She looked back down at the photos again. “But if he's keeping Connie, does that mean she’s dead and he is doing ungodly things that I shouldn’t even think of, or is she still alive?” 

 Penelope looked at Y/N with a puzzled look on her face, not knowing the answer to her questions.

 “I was asking myself, Pen,” Y/N eased Penelope’s thoughts.

 “Oh good.” 

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

 After the team delivered the profile, Spencer had moved back to a quiet room to work in. Well, he wasn’t really focused on his work, he was worrying about proposing to Y/N. 

 All-day, the team had noticed his behavior. Of course, they would, they’re profilers. Spencer’s odd behavior on the plane, his constant whispering under his breath, and his nervous breaths.

  Blake took extra notice of this though, she had formed some sort of motherly bond with Spencer. And Spencer was glad to have it, she was someone he could relate to intellectually also so it was nice to have her to talk to. 

 Spencer sat in a small office, writing on some paper to help with his geo-profile. He was trying to narrow it down to an area where the unsub might be keeping his victims. He was hard at work, but his mind kept going back to Y/N. 

 She was all he could think about. His nerves from proposing, going over every possible way the evening could go. He couldn’t help himself but feel nervous. 

 “There you are,” Blake said as she saw Spencer in the room. “How's the geographical profiling going? And why are you doing it here?”

 “It’s going good. I’m just having trouble concentrating out there, is all, so I came in here.” Spencer gestured vaguely with his pencil around the room. He quickly looked back down to the map and continued to work. 

 “Hmm,” Blake hummed. “So what’s with you today?”

 “Hm,” Spencer said, not understanding what she meant. 

 “Is this about the black box in your bag?” 

 Spencer opened and closed her mouth, he really hadn’t told anyone about his plan to propose. Only JJ and Penelope. JJ because she’s his best friend and Penelope because she could help him find out what Y/N would like and she was also really close to him. “She asked me the other morning, for when she gets back, to go to dinner. And I-I decided that’s when I decided I’m going to do it.”

 “Awe, Reid,” Blake gushed. “She’s going to say yes, you know.”

 “I know, it’s just, she’s the most beautiful girl in the world to me, and I don’t want to mess it up,” Spencer confessed. “But what if she says no? What if she doesn’t want to marry me?” 

 “Spencer,” Blake scorned and then took a seat in the chair across from Spencer. “Why wouldn’t she say yes?”

 “Because I’m weird,” Spencer said. “I slouch, my hairs to long, she always has to fix my perpetually crooked tie-” 

 “Your hair’s fine.”

 “Really? Thanks, my mom thinks it’s too long and so does my Aunt Ethel,” Spencer admitted. 

 “Well, you’re not about to propose to them,” Blake laughed. 

 “I just don't want to ruin something so special, over something so trivial as looks.” Spencer was showing how insecure he was and it truly broke Blake’s heart. “She’s beautiful, Alex, she’s all I could ever ask for, inside and out. Her smile is contagious, her heart is so big, and her eyes sparkle.” 

 “Spencer, I think you’re excited but afraid,” Blake told him.

 Spencer nodded, agreeing with her.  

“But I have only known you two together for four months now, and the way she looks at you, with such love and adoration. Tells me she’s going to say yes,” Blakes gave him a serious face.  

 Spencer gave a half-smile, her words comforted him.

 “So don’t second guess yourself, just do it, because she is not going to say no,” Blake gave him one last word of encouragement.  

 “We’ll see.”

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

 “You know what’s crazy,” Y/N blurted into the quiet space of her and Penelope. 

 “What’s crazy?” 

 “The way that these victims were tortured. The dislocation seems so...moving? Like he wants to control them.” Y/N looked at the M.E. report. The dislocation just seemed odd and yet so familiar. 

 “Movement, control, crucifixion…” Y/N was muttering these words under her breath as she continued to think why she knew this case. It seemed like something she read before. A book? No. A Reddit scary story? Possibly. An old case? 

 “Penelope there was a case, uh around 2010 I think, I can’t remember the unsubs name but it had something to do with a woman drugging her victims and...oh and she dressed them up,” Y/N listed off what she could remember from the case file she read before she joined the BAU.

 “I think I remember that one, but let me look it up just to be sure.” Penelope began to type on her computer quickly and look up the case. “Here it is, Savannah Malcolm, thirty-two at the time of her arrest. She kidnapped and drugged women to look like a line of dolls due to a frontal lobe problem from electro-shock therapy prescribed by her father, who was a serial molester.”

 “Okay, the doll thing that’s what I’m looking for.” Y/N pulled her phone out and quickly scrolled to Spencer’s number. 

-

 “The M.E. just called, not only were ligature marks on victim three’s arms, but his jaw was dislocated as well,” Rossi said to Hotch after he hung up the phone. 

 “His jaw?” Spencer asked as he and Blake approached the two men. 

 “Why would you hang someone, dislocate their joints and their jaw, and then crucify them?” Hotch’s confusion was received all around by the group. 

 Spencer was thinking, long and hard. His eyes became focused on a Newton’s Cradle that sat on a deputy's desk. The wheels in his brain turned and he was so close to connecting them but he couldn’t find the last little bit. 

 “I can see your wheels turning, don't hold back,” Rossi said, bringing Spencer out of his head.

 “Maybe he’s dislocating their body parts so that he can manipulate them himself,” Spencer said, explaining to them what he was thinking. 

 As soon as Blake was about to ask a question, Spencer’s phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his back pocket and saw Y/N’s name light up the screen. 

 “Hey, Y/N, what’s up?” Spencer said when he answered his phone. 

 “Spence put me on speaker.” 

 “Okay, one sec.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and did as she told him. “You’re on speaker.” 

 “Savannah Malcolm,” Y/N said, confusing everyone in the room. 

 “What about her?” Hotch said as he recognized the name. 

 “She was a collector, she kidnapped women so that she could be a part of her doll collection she was missing. What if this guy has something like that, a male and female set of dolls, stuffed animals, even I don’t-”

 “Marionettes.” Spencer cut her off thinking the same thing she was. 

 “Yes! I know it’s crazy but-” 

 “No, no I see it,” Spencer agreed with her but when he looked around he could see the confusion on the other’s faces. “Think about it for a second. If you add the dislocation, the holes in the hands, the strange clothing, and the odd makeup, it sounds crazy, but our unsub could be turning our victims into human marionettes.” 

 “That makes sense, and it’s the best lead,” Rossi agreed, looking to Hotch who had a posing look on his face. 

 “The Greeks translated ‘puppets’ as ‘neurospasta’, which literally means string-pulling,” Spencer said as he gave more insight on the marionette theory. 

 “Oh and throughout time they’ve been used as a method to tell kings a story so the subjects didn’t have to speak to him directly,” Y/N piped in since she had some knowledge of the matter.

 Penelope looked over at her from her chair, a confused look on her face. 

 “What? I like history,” Y/N defended herself. 

 “She’s right,” Spencer said, a small sense of pride forming in his chest. 

 “It was a way to hear the truth,” Rossi said as he was taking in the information. 

 “It seems like this unsub is doing something similar. Using his puppets to tell his story,” Hotch added. 

 “He can’t be controlling them by hand,” Blake said as she thought about how the unsub would control two humans. 

 “No, he probably built some sort of contraption,” Hotch agreed. 

 “And he’s trying to lift his victims,” Spencer added.

 “That could explain why he discarded the men,” Rossi said as he looked at the victims’ charts. “They were too heavy.” 

 “Wait, Rossi what do you see?” Y/N asked, pushing her chair back so she could grab the copies of the victims’ charts she had. 

 “Well, I’m checking the licenses of our victims, and each weighed less than the previous one,” Rossi noted as he picked up each one to compare the weights. 

 “You know, if he’s making human marionettes, that also explains why he’s stuffing his victims into boxes,” Spencer said, his eyes bouncing between the three around him. “It’s like a sick toy chest.” 

 “So he is dehumanizing them,” Y/N noted.

 “But he’s not killing them, he’s turning them into his playthings,” Hotch said. 

 The four at the station turned as they heard steps approaching. 

 “A father and son were just abducted from a parking lot at gunpoint,” Detective Marks said when he reached them. “A witness saw a man force them into a car.” 

 “Dave, you and Blake go check it out,” Hotch ordered. “Garcia, you there.” 

 “Yes, sir,” Penelope piped up to be heard over Y/N’s phone. 

 “I need you to start looking for theater owners and puppeteers in the area,” Hotch said. 

 “Will do sir,” Penelope responded. 

 “We’ll hit you back with some results,” Y/N added and went to hang up the phone. 

 “Hey, Y/N wait,” Spencer said, pulling her off of speaker and putting his phone to his ear. 

 “Yeah, Spence,” she responded, doing the same as him. 

 “We're still on for dinner when I get back?” 

 “Of course, I already made the reservation.” 

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

 “Okay there are five puppeteers/marionetters in the area,” Penelope said quickly, seeing as there were two new victims.

 “Any recently released from prison?” Hotch asked. 

 Penelope quickly typed into the search engine and got no results. 

 “No,” Y/N answered when she read the screen. 

 “Yeah, they’re all working kids’ parties and at hospitals,” Penelope added. 

 “What about someone who had a traumatic incident with a brunette girl?” Spencer gave a new set of parameters. 

 “That’s kind of specific,” Penelope muttered as she began to type. While she was typing, she got a call from JJ and Derek. “Hold on let me patch in JJ and Morgan.” 

 “Hey, we’re at the clothing store,” Derek’s voice said over the phone. “And we got the names of five people who left numerous messages for Tucker this week.”

 “Give them to me and Wonder Woman,” Penelope said, hands at the ready to work her magic. 

 “Alright, we got Sam Holby, Terrence Crammer, Vincent Lang, Matt Parker, and Jill Olger,” Derek said, reading off the names he found.

 Penelope typed swiftly on her keys, doing cross-checks with all the things she’s been given so far. “And no, and I’m cross-checking those with Hotch’s list of puppeteers. And no.” 

 “So I’ve got eight more names, some written on pads in the back, others are frequent customers,” JJ’s voice was heard next. 

 “All right,” Derek said to JJ. “Penelope we need you and Y/N to trace the phone lines here, too, see if this guy Tucker called the unsub today.”

-----------

 “How’s your vegetarian pad thai?” Y/N asked as she gathered more of her own food in her chopsticks. 

 “Amazing,” Penelope took another bite of her food. The phone began to ring. Penelope used the ends of her chopsticks to answer. 

 “Garcia,” Hotch’s voice was heard through the phone. 

 “Yes, sir,” Penelope answered, swallowing her food.

 “Were there any incidents involving a father and son in the puppeteers’ histories that you found?”  

  Penelope set down her box of noodles and began to type on her computer. “Father and son. Okay, no, it’s coming up empty.”

 “What about twenty or thirty years ago?” Rossi’s voice asked. 

 At the new parameters, Penelope got a hit. “Well, there was a pretty famous puppeteer in the late fifties, named Alex Rain.”

 “He died in a robbery,” Y/N read from the article on the screen. 

 “Yeah, his son witnessed it.” 

 “What was the son’s name?” Blake asked. 

 “Adam Rain, mom died ten years ago,” Penelope answered.

 “Cross-check Adam’s name with the names of the patrons in the clothing store,” Spencer ordered. 

 Penelope began to type again and a huge list of callers appeared on the screen. “Oh, I got a big ‘ole hit. Okay, so Mr. Rain called Tucker, the owner, forty times in the last month.”

 “Damn, I don’t think I even call my mom that much,” Y/N commented, taking another bite of her food. 

 “Yeah, check this-- his father was most well-known for a pair of puppets named Mitch and Steph, the male one had dark black hair, the female was a redhead.” The picture of the two puppets was on the screen as Penelope began to describe their features. 

 “And they’re creepy,” Y/N sang as her eyes widened at the picture. 

 “Do you have an address?” Rossi asked. 

 “Last known was a building on Pine Street, that used to be his father’s theater,” Penelope said as the information on Adam Rain came up on the screen. 

 “And guess what he drives,” Y/N said. 

 “A blue van, call us back in the car,” Hotch’s voice said as he began to walk out of the room. 

 When Penelope hung up the phone, the sound of her door opening startled them. Y/N instinctively reached for her gun on her belt and Penelope jumped. Walking into the room was Erin Strauss, her normal pristine self. 

 “Agent Y/L/N, may I speak with you in my office please,” Strauss said. 

 It wasn’t a question, it was an order. Y/N nodded and stood up from her chair. “I’ll be back,” she said to Penelope who just nodded absently, not sure what was going on. 

 When Strauss entered her office, Y/N followed a few paces behind her. She was very confused about what was happening at the moment. Strauss knew they were on a case and she wouldn’t pull her away unless it was important. 

 “Have a seat.” Strauss gestured to the chairs in front of her desk. 

 Y/N slowly walked over to the seat on the left, nervous about what was happening. “Okay, I’m going to be blunt, ma’am, what’s going on?”

 “Well, I really didn’t want to do this,” Strauss began with a sigh. 

 Y/N’s mind jumped to the worse. “I’m not fired am I?” 

 “Oh no,” Strauss reassured her. She was a bitch, but Y/N was too good of an agent to fire due to budget cuts. “When I asked you to move to fugitive task force, I was hoping you would say yes so we could use that as your cover.” 

 “My cover? For what?” 

 “A couple of months ago, there was a letter left here, it told about how someone in the FBI was being watched,” Strauss began to explain. “The Director and I wrote it off as a simple ‘trying to scare’ type thing. It wasn’t until later that we realized that wasn’t the case. We received another note, with very specific detail about how someone wanted to hurt not just this one person in the FBI, but their whole team.” 

 “Do you think this has to do with Caroline?” Y/N asked, curious if that was a road Strauss had traveled down and looked into. 

 “We looked into it, it’s not.” 

 Y/N let out a sigh of relief, glad she didn’t have to deal with her again. 

 “This unsub has been stalking a member of your team, the last letter we received was about someone in the BAU.” Strauss handed the letter to Y/N in its evidence bag.

 Y/N took the letter from her hand, looking over the neat handwriting. “Well, by the handwriting I can tell this is probably a female.” 

 “Yes, I also thought that. There’s one other thing, if you notice in the letter, she mentions everyone on the team except you.” 

 Y/N looked closely at the letter, reading over everyone’s name except hers. “Do you think I am the one she’s after.” 

 Great, not again, Y/N thought to herself. 

 “Well, that was my initial thought, but then we got a break,” Strauss said. “We found out that these letters were coming from a student who attends George Town, due to a series of mysterious suicides that we believe are connected to this. George Town is a school we frequently have guest speakers at, especially from the BAU.”  

 Now Y/N was beginning to catch on. “Except me, I have never guest spoken.” 

 “Yes. We are assuming this unsub has only done research on those who have spoken at the school. This is where you come in. I would like you to go undercover as a girl’s advisor to get some insight and hopefully find out who this unsub is.” 

 Y/N looked at Strauss with wide, surprised eyes. “Oh-uh-okay, is this a ‘you can if you want to?’ or a ‘this is what you’re doing now’ thing.”

 “A little of both, but I believe you are the best hope of finding out who this is with little to no injury involved.” 

 “How long would I be undercover for?” 

 “Depends on what you find and how close you’re getting.” Strauss leaned on her desk, seeing that Y/N’s last question prompted that she was interested.

 “Okay, and will I have contact with my team?” 

 The sigh Strauss let out was not giving to Y/N’s hope. “This is the part where I believe you were going to say no. You would start tonight if you say yes, you would get some things from your home, leave your cell phone with me, I give you a new one and you will have no contact with your team unless absolutely necessary for an extended period of time.” 

 “What determines this extended period of time?” 

 “Your findings within the first month.” 

 “So at least a month.” Y/N knew she had to do this, after everything the team did to help her with Caroline, she couldn’t let this unsub get to them. But what about Spencer, or JJ, or Penelope? This was a hard decision she had to make, but she knew she’d be back. 

 “Okay, I’ll do it. But on one condition.” 

--------------  

 Adam Rain had been caught. He had been in a coma for a long time due to a car accident. He had a Peter Pan syndrome where he woke up as a young boy again. 

 Spencer was bouncing on his toes. After his talk with Blake, he had found a new sense of confidence for the evening and he couldn’t wait to pop the question. He had the ring out the whole flight home, the box in his hands and absent mindedly played with it. He opened the box, admiring the ring he looked for for so long. It was simple, a thin gold band that had three small diamonds in a line on the top of the ring. It was perfect and he was so excited to give it to her. 

 The team arrived at Quantico that evening. Tired from the long case and excited to get home.  

 “Hey guys,” Penelope greeted everyone when they walked in the door. 

 “Hey Baby girl,” Derek greeted her, giving her a hug. When he pulled away he looked behind her and then back at her. “Where’s Wonder Woman?” 

 “I have no clue, I was hoping Boy Wonder knew because Strauss called her into her office earlier and I haven’t seen her since,” Penelope explained. 

 Spencer walked up to the two when he heard his nickname. “She hasn’t talked to me since we last called you.” 

 The three were now worried and confused, no knowledge of where Y/N was.

 “I can answer that for you,” Strauss’ voice was heard as she walked into the room. Her announcement gained everyone on the team’s attention. “Agent Y/L/N has been assigned to an undercover assignment by me, starting right after the meeting we had earlier today.” 

 The team stood shocked, some with wide eyes and others with slack jaws.

 “I’m sorry, what?” JJ asked strongly.

 “The case is strictly need to know, but she wanted me to tell you that is where she was so you wouldn’t have to worry about her running off or having you think she left you.” The last part of her announcement was directed to Spencer, who Y/N knew would need to hear that until he got home. 

 “Erin,” Rossi said, anger and annoyance rising in him. 

 “Dave, the decision has been made, she was the best person for this job. You will have no contact with her unless extremely necessary for at least one month-” Strauss held up her pointer finger- “She told me to tell you that this was an extremely hard decision for her to make but she needed to do it to protect lives.” 

 With that, Strauss gave a curt nod to Hotch and started to walk to his office. Hotch followed, his walk angry as she had pulled someone from his team without telling him first. 

 “Reid,” Penelope said when she looked over to the man in shock. 

 He stood still, mouth closed and eyes pricking with tears he wouldn’t let fall. The ring in his pocket felt heavy now, like it carried all the weight of the world that just left him. 

 “Spence,” JJ reached her hand to touch his shoulder. 

 Spencer jerked at the touch and began to walk away. “I need to get home.” 

 His whole trip home, his hope was that what had just happened was just some fever dream. It was all fake from his nerves over the past couple of days and he’d get home and she’s been on the couch waiting for him.   

 But when he walked in the door, he was met with a quiet empty apartment. He let out a breath. It sounded like a scoff almost, and then he wanted to start laughing. Because this was fucking hilarious and crazy.  

 This was crazy, Y/N was gone. 

 When he closed the door and flipped the light switch, the corner of his eye caught a glimmer. His head jerked in the direction of the sparkle. 

 Sitting on the table was a white sheet of paper, folded in half and ‘Spencer’ scrawled on the front of it. Beside it sat the gold band Y/N had gotten him. 

 Slowly, Spencer dropped his bags by the door and walked over the letter. He picked up the letter, not daring to touch the gold band that sat beside it. 

 “Dear Spencer: My love, my sweet angel, my bub, I know you’re very confused right now, I am too. As Strauss told you, I was pulled away on an undercover mission. Sadly I cannot tell you what this is about due to the fact I am liable not to and technically I wasn’t even supposed to write this letter to you but you know me, I couldn’t leave without leaving something for you.” 

 Spencer laughed, a small tear he let escape running down his face. Of course, Y/N wouldn’t leave without giving him a goodbye somehow.

 “I know it isn’t fair that I am leaving you a letter, and trust me I didn’t want to leave you one. You’ve been left too many from people leaving you-- Gideon, your dad. But here’s the one thing that’s different, I am coming back. After this is all over I will be back.” 

 Spencer’s lip quivered, not letting any tears be held back anymore. 

 “Tell the team that I love them and I’m sorry that I had to leave like this. I know they were all probably shocked and some were probably angry. Hell, I would understand if you were angry. I would be.” 

 Spencer was angry. He was angry that she was chosen for this, that she had to leave. 

 “So you’re probably wondering, ‘why is there a ring here?’. Well, tonight I was going to propose to you, and it was going to be so great. Penelope and I have been discussing it all day on my speech, the delivery, the whole nine yards. But I guess that won’t happen now, but if you want to hear about it then ask her, she’ll tell you.” 

 Spencer looked down at the ring. The simple gold band sat there and was screaming at him to pick it up. Like if he wore it, Y/N would be right beside him. 

 “I don’t know if you’ll wear it, but I left it as a promise to you. So you’ll know I’ll be back to marry you soon. That this is just a bump in our story, and the rest of if we will spend together.” 

 Spencer danced the ring between his thumb and index finger. He looked at it all around, noticing their initials on the inside. He smiled at them, making his heart soar at how thoughtful she was. 

 “So, technically I am not supposed to do this, but I can’t stand the thought of not being able to talk to you for a month. I’ve thought about the safest way to do this. It’s the same way I’d talk to London in college when Caroline was...anyway. At the end of this letter is the number of the cell Strauss gave me, it’s in code but I know you’ll figure it out quickly. I want you to go to a payphone, call the number, let it ring twice, hang up, and then wait for me to call back. It’s safe and we can only do it maybe three times a week just to be cautious.” 

 Spencer made extra sure to remember each step, already excited to use it so he could talk to her. 

 “I have to go now, Spence. I love you more than anything you’ll ever know. I found a quote that is fitting for when I was going to propose, so I’ll just leave it here: Thomas Merton once wrote, ‘Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone, we find it with another.’  See you soon, Y/N.” 

 At the end of the letter was the code for the number. It was easy for Spencer to decipher, he didn’t even need to write anything down. He took a mental note of the number and was ready to use it first thing in the morning. 

 He then looked back at the ring. He had set it back down at some point and picked it back up again. It sat in the palm of his hand. 

 He was almost scared to put it on now. Then he thought about her words, it’s a promise I’ll be back. With slow, cautious movements, Spencer slipped the band on his ring finger. The ring felt at home there and he had no plans of taking it off.  

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[windywooshes]

Douma x (F)Reader

~*:beloved short cut guide:*~

(Y/N): Name

(L/N): Last name

(H/C): Hair color [i.e. brunette, blonde, etc ]

(E/C): Eye color

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

A rainbow. That was the first thought which crossed her mind when she peeked between the bodies of her parents and the two cult leaders.

Behind the excited chattering, was a boy, no older her age. He had silver hair and the most sparkly eyes the little girl ever saw in her young life. The boy himself was skimming the room, borred, until he locked eyes with the curious child. (Y/N) quickly hid behind her mother's legs with a slight blush covering her cheeks, when he smiled warmly over to her, waving his tiny hand as a gesture of welcome.

It seemed that the older female felt the curiousity of the (H/C) which was circling around her like a swarm of beez. Buzzing and summing. What would his name be ? Is he another kid whose parents joined ? Will he be her friend ?

Most questions were answered when she and her parents were led into the room. She was confused as to why her mother and father were bowing down deeply infront of the child. Tearing up, she was forced down for a bow as well. Her head colliding with the hard tatami matt, creating a blue spot the next day, probably. The boy's smile didn't vanish.

„Welcome to the cult of entire happiness~. May your stay bring joy and peace into your life. You may raise your head now.“

„Oh thank you, our beloved leader.“

(Y/N) raised both of her eyebrows in confusion. Leader ? Is she a leader as well ? There is no significant difference between the boy and her, after all. If this boy could bring happiness to her parents...would she be able to as well ?

She silently gasped. The girl would definitely make sure to ask the silverette how to do that. Life seemed to be very gloomy, whenever she was home alone with her elders. Loud arguments and ugly fights painted the nights in a muted color. How she longed for those old colorful days, where her father would embrace her mother tightly. Or the summer days where she was helping her mother with the laundry, laughing and enjoying the surring melody of the cicadas.

When the family exited the ceremony room, they were invited for tea to discuss the other details together. (Y/N) wouldn't stop thinking about the boy. Thanks to the mother of the leader, she was allowed to skim through the palace by her own. You wouldn't need so say that twice to her, as she immediately dashed her way out of the room.

To her disadvantage, the mansion felt like a labyrinth. Crossing many different rooms and areas but not the one she wished for. She sinked down on the wooden floor. Sniffles already escaping her nose.

(Y/N) was lost. But before she could even break out into tears, she felt a presence behind her. Turning around, she found the little boy from before. Her face lighted up on the spot as she made her way up to her legs again.

„Are you okay ? Where are your parents ?“

His voice sounded so soft, yet the words felt hollow. On a closer look, she noticed the colorful orbs to be dull. Without any emotion or life in them. How come such beautiful eyes, looked so cold ?

Douma shifted his head to the side. Was the girl deaf ? Could she maybe not speak ? Before he could say anything, he felt a tug on his hand as the girl suddenly grabbed it with both of her own. She was piercing holes into him. That was something he never had happen to him before. What a bold child, she was.

„Please teach me how I can give Mama and Papa happiness !“

Her voice sounded determined. Almost as if she blurted out a promise, she swore to fullfill and he was the only key which would lead to it.

Douma's eyes furrowed upwards. How should he confess to her that happiness is a fraud ? That there is no way to bring or become happy ? That it was all just a ghost of sensation inside someone's mind ? He placed his free hand ontop of one of hers, smiling again.

„I believe that you should find it yourself, as I am only a messenger between god and the humans.“

He couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth he believed in. She seemed to be too pure and innocent to be painted in muddy hues by this harsh reality. The mansion was a place of peace. Of illusions. It was not his job to destroy them. Especially for one of hid future followers.

He watched her eyes drifting off from his own, onto the floor. Her eyebrows knitted together. For a moment Douma expected her to be disappointed but he was met with an excited expression instead. Her lips forming into a toothy grin.

„Right ! I think I can do it even without god's help !“

He was caught off guard for a moment. All the time he was seated on the throne, he only saw people bowing down to him. Praying. Sending messages to god for help, instead of searching for solutions for their problems on their own. Suddenly his heartbeat quickened.

„Oh ! I'm (L/N) (Y/N) ! But please just call me (Y/N) ! We should play a lot when you can~“

Her smile was as bright as the sun. Genuine warmth which he hasn't felt in a while.

„Please call me Douma. It's a pleasure to meet a new follower~“

Before the two of them could chat any further, a female voice could be heard, calling out the name of the (H/C).

„I think you need to leave already. I hope we will meet again.“

With that, Douma disappeared inside the room next to them. Just in time before (Y/N)'s mother arrived to take her daughter to the exit of the mansion.

Maybe, they could become friends after all.

Months passed with her family visiting the cult on a regular basis once a week. Sadly the girl couldn't make much progress with their friendship since Douma was only seen durring the ceremonies or private prayer appointments. It was a very frustrating visit every week but the girl told herself to keep trying.

She found a chance to approach him after hearing about the latest tragedy. Douma's father was found murdered by his wife while she herself took her own life by poisoning herself.

(Y/N) felt sad for the young boy. How would he live without his parents ? How can he live day by day, knowing about such a horrible event in his own home ? After all it seemed to happen inside of his ceremony room too.

She carefully peeked inside of the four walls, hoping not to interrupt him in one of his cleansing ceremonies. He was lying on his pillow, eyes closed. It seemed as if he was fast asleep from all the stress and preasure. Suprisingly, the room didn't contain any sight or smell of the blood bath.

Carefully the (H/C) girl, sneaked in her way infront of the pillow and starred down at the child with her big (E/C) orbs. It didn't take long for Douma to open his own, to gaze right back at the owner of the second pair.

„Do you wish for an audience ? I can squeeze in some extra time for you.“ he smiled brightly but it felt so hollow and cold as always.

Inching her way closer to the male, she carefully glanced around the room, making sure that no adults were close who could scold her for her actions.

The said boy just looked at her, confused by her behaviour but not questioning it any further until he felt small arms wrap around his body and the warmth against him. The colorful orbs blinked, not sure what to do or say in such a situation. It felt warm. It felt save. His chest tightened for a bit, heart beating louder. Something was dwelling up inside of him but he couldn't really catch this intruder. It was unknown for him. It felt just like the first interaction they shared.

Hearing sniffles, his bushy eyebrows arched up. Was she crying on his behalf ? Because of the latest events ? Douma couldn't even understand why she would make herself sad because of something what happened to him. It shouldn't matter to her. It was his life, his tragedy to bear, not hers.

„I'll make sure to come every day and play with you ! Pinky promise !“

Holding out her tiny finger infront of him, after leaving the hug, (Y/N) had a stern yet soft look on her face. The boy shouldn't feel lonely all by himself. She'll make sure to bring some fun and adventure into his life ! Only because he brings happiness doesn't mean that he can't have some of it as well, right ?

Douma on the other hand was just perplexed and totally unsure as to what to do now. He just ended up copying her and held out his own pinky infront of her. As quick as he could blink, she had both of their fingers wrapped up together and gave it one nice shake before letting go. Giving him a bright toothy smile, before waving her hand to say goodbye.

„I'll be back tomorrow !“

With that, the silver haired male was left alone in the room, still holding his pinky up, confused and unsure as to what just happened.

And as tomorrow came, (Y/N) dashed along with it. Somehow both kids managed to sneak out of the stuffy ceremony room into the big garden which was located in the middle of the temple. With paper squares in one hand and entwined fingers in the other, the (H/C) made her way over to the pond with the boy.

„(L/N)-san...I believe we are not allowed to trespass into the garden.“

Actually, Douma couldn't care less about the rules as he was the center of attention in the cult but he just tried to find a way to get back inside, since the bright sun burnt down on them, as it was already the middle of summer.

„Aw...you are no fun, Douma-chan !“ she puffed her cheeks out with her eyebrows knitted together but eased up once she handed him some square papers.

Seating herself on the stoned pavement, she started to fold and bend one of the thin sheets and managed to create a decent looking lotus flower.

„Let's decorate the pond a bit. It looks so bland and the koi seem to like the flowers too !“

Glancing into the reflecting water, he watched as two kois swam underneath the freshly folded lotus, trying to hide from the shining orb in the sky by swimming in the shadow of the paper figure.

Douma looked over to the side, catching the eyes of the girl and smiled a bit. He gently placed his hat down from his head and sat himself close to his companion. Watching her tiny hands gliding over the paper with each new fold. Copying her movements calmly, as if he had done this millions of times before. The girl glimpered her eyes in amazement.

„Woah ! It looks so pretty ! I'm sure the fishes will be happy about it !“

Her smile was just as bright as the afternoon sun, watching happily when he placed the flower gently into the water with a smile gracing his own lips.

Douma caught himself gazing at (Y/N) with his own amazement and curiosity. His chest was fluttering again but he didn't seem to mind it as much as yesterday. He just took her hand in his tiny one and smiled brightly.

„Let's make this pond beautiful together !“

The (H/C)'s face lighted up with his promise. Nodding her head in excitement, she squeezed his hand gently before continuing to fold new flowers to place into the liquid.

Years passed and the garden grew, along with the two kids. The new flora and fauna decorating the center of the mansion proudly.

Both , (Y/N) and Douma continued to care for it and the koi. Meeting up every day just for a bit tranquillity from the cult. The silverette was dreading for the small amount of time he could spend with the girl. After all those years, he grew to enjoy her company and her refreshing nature. Just like a fresh cube of ice durring a hot summer day, she was cooling him off and bringing him the relaxation he secretly hoped for since his early childhood days.

Douma was currently seated on the wooden floor which connected the garden and the house with each other. Gracefully folding a lotus flower from a peachy pink colored origami paper. Even though they planted real lotus in the pond, he still found himself crafting them whenever he was waiting for the (H/C).

Quick taps on the floor brought him out of his daydreaming. He knew exactly who they belonged to as he heard the same rythm for such a long period already. A smile waved upon his face when he caught the (E/Y) orbs and the slightly messy (H/C) locks of (Y/N).

„I told you that you don't need to run~ you might slip and hurt yourself as you did that time...“

(Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows together, cheeks tinting pink. That time, she was running through the hallways to find the devil himself. Well, the females search was successful. She managed to slip and bump right into him, sending them both onto the hard wooden floor, earning an earful afterwards from the cult followers who witnessed the whole fiasco.

„I've been more careful since then though !“

The male laughed at her reaction. It was always interesting to watch her flustered face and her movements along with it. Patting the spot next to him, he invited her over to enjoy the scenery of the garden and the cold breeze of the wind. She quickly sat down, back facing him as he took out a comb from one of his pockets.

It became a daily ritual for him to brush her hair after she arrived, since it always looked all over the place from her running. A time where both of them could have their peace from the loud city or from the other members. A small moment of recharging.

(Y/N) started to humm a small melody while she patiently sat besides the cult leader, while the man himself couldn't help but smile slightly. Admiring the soft touch of her hair against his fingers. He carefully inched closer to her neck and gave it a quick kiss, before leaning back again once he heard her shriek of surprise. Holding up his hands in defence, he couldn't hold back his chuckles at the entertaining ruckus she gives him. He earned some gentle smacks with the fan which the girl brought along with her. Cheeks puffed out and brught red.

Once she stopped she sighed and put her hands down on her lap, looking at the leaves which were swaying with the light wind. Douma followed her gaze but caught himself stealing some looks at the female next to him intead. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her against his chest. Surprisingly enough, he was not poked and shoved back. Feeling his company ease up against him.

.

.

.

„You should move into the mansion.“

„Huh ?“

„You wouldn't need to run here. We could enjoy the view even at night! It looks beautiful with the fireflies. I could comb your hair everyday. We could fold other paper figures~“

„You know that I can't do that...because-„

„Because of your sick mother, I know...“

Douma sighed and rubbed his temple. For a while now, you have been taking care of your ill mother since your father passed away. He knew your hardships and saw your bruised hands and legs from carrying the heavy vegetables everyday to sell them on the market. Just so you could earn some more yen to get both of you through life. And as disgusting and inhumane it sounded, he was wishing for your mother to finally pass away and free you from your slavery. He could offer you more. Anything you would wish for, it would be there in mere seconds. Yet you declined all of his offers up until now. Refusing to live life easy.

It made him frustrated but he respected your decision. Honestly, he couldn't care less as to what you make out of your life...right ? It should be like that but he still seems to grow annoyed by the constant rejection. Don't humans usually go for the easiest way ? Why wouldn't you do the same. Why were you so stubborn. A contrast to his usual followers.

„As you wish, my lotus~“

She sighed before poking him in the side, earning no reaction whatsoever.

„Here, I made this fan for you since you seem to hate the heat so much.“

Pulling away from the embrace, (Y/N) pulled out a beautiful golden fan.

„For our wonder and blessing, Douma-sama~“ copying one of the desperate cult members voice, she held out the item and bowed down deeply.

Douma chuckled and gently picked up the fan, answering in a mocking royal voice.

„I am grateful for your generous offering, my lost lamb. May you find happiness~ you may raise your head now.“

Placing a hand ontop of her head, he could feel the shaking of her body which came from the laughter she tried to hold back.

The wind chimes ringed with the gentle breeze which was traveling through the garden and another day ended with (Y/N) heading back home.

The next day, Douma was surprised to be alone in the garden. As well as the following. And the other.

2 weeks passed and he hasn't heard anything of (Y/N). But when he did, it was not a pretty sight for him to see. Her hands and cheek were swollen with bruises, she was dirty, her once beautiful (H/C) locks looked like a total mess.

Apparently his wish became true.

After (Y/N) arrived at home that night, she was met with the terrible fate of discovering her mother brutally murdered. It was a horrific sight. To her dismay, she met face to face with the attacker and almost got killed herself. Almost. If it wouldn't have been to the swordsman who beheaded the monster inches away from of her face.

The shock from losing her last family member and for almost having her life pulled away from her grasp, let her fall into sadness and fear. She couldn't move or eat for days. This also meant that she couldn't pay for her necessities in time, bringin the owner of the fields and house, home to her and beating her for the refusal of work over the time span. Taking away all left over possessions she was left with. Without a roof over her head or a job to feed her, she didn't know where to go or what to do. Once she snapped out of her trance, she found herself infront of the gates of the cult mansion and broke down into tears when she was met with the face of Douma.

The members helped her clean up and cutting her hair. Sadly it was so messed and clogged up that brushing wouldn't help. Which ended up with her hair becoming a bon cut. The bruises were bandaged and taken care of, in hopes that they won't leave permanent marks on her skin.

Once night arrived, (Y/N) made her way silently to the garden. Plopping down on the spot she usually sat on with the cult leader. Gazing at the small glowing dots which danced through the petals and leaves.

„It really does look beautiful...“ she whispered, not sensing the presence of Douma behind her.

He sat down next to her and looked at her face. It felt empty. Her sparkling eyes completely dull. Her voice drained of joy. Raising up his hand to touch her head, the impact of his touch resulted in a flinch and the girl backing away from him a bit.

„A-ah, I apologize...I was in thoughts...“

She tried to crank up a smile but it looked horrible. It felt as if everything bright and beautiful was taken away from him the second he saw her today. Attempting to show some kind of comfort he wrapped his arms around her smaller frame. Careful not to put pressure on the wounds and blue spots on her flesh.

„You will be well here...I will give you anything you want or need. You won't face any more fear. You will be safe. I will make sure of it.“

He felt her shaking, not from laughter this time though. Her sobs filling the silence of the safe haven they built up together. A beautiful summer night, yet it was so ugly.

The following weeks, Douma tried to fulfill any wish the female had. He would make his followers bring her the sweetest treats, the most beautiful kimono to wear, bringing her a fresh bouquet of flowers to decorate her room. To his frustration, nothing seemed to bring the smile back he was always curious about. The spark which brought him calm. Nothing of it surfaced, remaining shut inside of the shell which created them.

His actions seemed to have brought the dismay of his followers as well. Many females and males complained about his bias towards the (H/C) girl. He brushed them off, assuring them that he was just trying his best to recreate the happiness which the girl lost. But it didn't seem to work. Soon enough, certain members started to push her around, ignoring her or talking behind her back. Spreading rumours and untasteful remarks.

It seemed that it affected the male more than her as she was only sitting outside the garden, watching the scenery with an empty stare.

As days went on, (Y/N) seemed to become ill. Becoming weaker and weaker with every sunrise which followed. Soon, she was not being found outside but laying inside her room with the shoji door open, to bring some fresh summer wind into the square which caged her in.

The silverette made sure to visit her with each day. Bringing her the nutrients she needed along with the medicine which was prepared by his cult members.

„Douma...I'm grateful for the time we spent. Even though my life was not painted in colors...but whenever I saw you and spent time in the garden, it was filled up with them and brought me peace.“

Before he could respond, he was cut off by the female once again.

„I am aware that you cannot feel as I do. Or see as I do. Hate and greed, happiness and love. Those are emotions you do not possess. Maybe you never did. But let me confess you my love, at least now before I pass...“

Her voice was raspy and very quiet. If he didn't lean in closer to her, he would have barely caught what she tried to tell him.

(Y/N) proped herself up shakily, Douma helping her up as good as he could since he was clearly unsure how he could aid her. Once she somewhat sat up, she leaned against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. She was aware of his lack of emotions. Even from the early childhood days, yet she still grew to love him. No matter how empty and cold he was.

Pressing her soft lips against his cheek, she gave him a small peck before succumbing back into his arms.

Her last breaths were decorated with a genuine last smile she gifted the male, on his way through life without her. A talisman.

He burried her in the garden, next to the pond. Where she would remain one of his beloved lotus flowers. She was the reason why he grew to like them. And after the harsh winter and the visit of Kibutsuji, they were the only flowers which survived and stayed in the garden with him through all these years. The first and last memory of his humanity for a good while.

So fleeting. Like a rainbow after a summer rain.

——————

This was one of the two requests I received ! The next one will be another Zenitsu x Reader :) thank you for the love !

[yourneighborhooddisaster]

kings of unconventional (part two)  LOGAN

This is really really late, I’m so sorry.

Warnings: swearing, therapy and crying mention?, death mention, suicide mention (not in depth at all), car crash mention, leukemia mention.

Tagging: @emiisanxious @genderfluidmoma @my-life-is-an-artistic-mess @penguins-penguins @jinxedrose101 I really hope I didn’t miss anyone, I’ll be happy to add you to the taglist! Although I do feel like directly messaging me would probably help me keep track of it better, you can also reblog or tag me. I love reblogs, comments, and constructive criticism! Fic under the cut. I’ll be getting an AO3 account soon!

LOGAN cleaned his glasses for the third time. Sure enough, the screen still read that a donation had been made to the campaign by Remy Starr, in the name of Starr’s Packaging. A five hundred thousand dollar donation. He cleared his throat without realizing. He didn’t actually need to talk to text Emile, but it was a nervous habit of his. Logan took a screenshot and sent it to Emile, who left him on seen. Oh right, someone had booked an appointment with him. A new client, which was huge for Emile considering his eccentric personality.

Logan shook his head to clear his thoughts. He needed to focus. He was already a day late replying, mainly because he couldn’t seem to word his gratitude quite correctly. But how was he supposed to answer this?

We thank you very much for your donation, Remy Starr. It is highly appreciated, especially considering how it has exceeded our goal so greatly. Please pass this message along to your company and have a wonderful week. -Logan Redding

Despite the fact that a little blurb had taken him ten minutes to write, he felt proud of himself for even being able to send anything. He couldn’t comprehend being able to randomly donate even a fifth of that sum. Just as he was about to put his phone away, it buzzed and he checked it to see Remy had replied.

relax gurl! the company just wanted to help out. thank my buddy virgil, he’s been following you for a while and he suggested it.

My buddy Virgil.

VIRGIL. 

Logan didn’t need to roll up his sleeve and check his arm to see the name in neat black print. In fact, he self consciously tugged it down further. His names had been burned into his brain ever since he was a child and his mother had broken the bad news. Yes, he should have been prepared for something like this to happen soon. Was he? Not in the slightest. Logan had always wondered who he would have a life with first. He assumed it might be in the order of the names. Janus, Patton, Virgil, and Roman. Guess not. His mother’s names had been like that. Dylan, then Marcus, then Timothy.

They were all dead now.

His mother had known her first soulmate when she was sixteen. But Dylan had crashed his car only a year after. Marcus was Logan’s father. He was only four when Marcus died of leukemia. But Timothy was perhaps the most tragic because he was the one Logan really considered his father. Suicide.

His mother had soon followed.

Logan couldn’t blame her really. She had suffered so much heartbreak. Part of why he was glad all his names appeared to be boys. Aside from the fact that he was gay, he wasn’t certain if this was hereditary or caused by other factors. If it could be passed on, it would die out with him. Turning off his phone, he wiped his eyes, which were certainly not watering. Emile would be available soon, meaning Logan could stop by his office and talk to him. His roommate had forgotten his lunch again anyways.

The drive wasn’t long; but it was just long enough that he needed to be distracted from his thoughts. He flipped on the radio. An old pop song he couldn’t remember the name of faded out, but it was soon replaced by a soft indie song. Logan had to admit he didn’t know much indie music, as he tended to listen to either rap or classical, but the music was pretty, and one line in particular stuck with him. I’m sure my soulmates won’t mind if we watch the sunset together. Soulmates, plural. The song ended much too soon.

“That was Tricking Fate, by Janus Diesel, an up and coming-” Logan flipped off the radio in shock. JANUS. Two soulmates in one day. Logan knew of course that it was possible they weren’t his, but were Janus and Virgil really common enough names? His heart was hurting and it was a damn good thing that he was just about to park because his emotions were making him dizzy now. At least he remembered to grab Emile’s bag of food.

“Oh, hello Logan! Dr. Picani is with his new client right now, but they’ll be done in about five more minutes. Just dropping something off or staying?”

“Staying, thank you Mary.” The brunette secretary smiled and Logan sat in the waiting room. Mary had been an absolute godsend to Emile, being much, much, much more organized than him and Logan combined. His mind was running so slowly five minutes passed in what seemed like only moments.

“Alright. Same time next week right, Patton?” Logan froze. A curly haired young man wiped his eyes, smiling brightly at Emile, who hovered just inside the door.

“Yeah. Yeah that felt… really good.” Patton waved goodbye and passed Logan, keeping his head down.

“Hey you.” Patton stopped, looking back over to Logan, who did not go red. “Um, I know I don’t know you, but you’re really cute.” Patton beamed, his cheeks flushing pink. Oh no. Logan was in deep fucking trouble. 

“Logan? Is that you?” Patton’s eyes widened, and Logan practically ran into Emile’s office. His heart was sinking. 

That was definitely his first soulmate.

[reincarnated70sbaby]

star crossed

-chapter four-

*disclaimer: this work is entirely fiction, all scenes with real life people presented in this work are entirely fictitious.*

word count : 2.4k

warnings : angst! (af!) swearing ?  charlie watts being unbothered as ever, did i mention angst?

<<previous chapter

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a couple drinks in, the conversation of recording a track started up. Jimmy was actually quite excited, a Rolling Stones and Jimmy Page track was bound to happen sometime. Sure, Jimmy had played with them in his session days, but not anything to the extent of actually being featured and credited for the track. They decided to come back tomorrow to Bill’s home studio to record a track that might feature on the upcoming Goats Head Soup album. Two nights previous, he finished up the English leg of the 72/73 tour. In a couple weeks, Led Zeppelin would be embarking on their biggest tour yet - the 73 North American tour. There was plans to record a concert film and album, and Jimmy was really hopeful everything would work out.

“Lads I’m about to fucking pass out here, I’m out, see you all tomorrow yeah?”

“All right Jim, see y’a tomorrow, not to early mate right?”

After agreeing to come in the early afternoon with Bill , he bid goodnight to the rest of crew there, Charlie and the pianist for the album, Nicky. Sure, they weren’t as wild as the Toxic Twins, but they were still good company - better than getting drunk in his hotel room alone.

Walking back to his hotel room, the walk felt much longer than 10 minutes. Even though it was the beginning of February, and therefore the start of spring, he had to wrap his arms around himself to preserve body heat.

Reaching the hotel lobby, he was met with the warm air of the large room. Red carpets and gold accents adorned the room. It was quite late in the night - or early in the morning, so he decided to skip going to the bar in hopes of picking up a partner and instead, head straight to his room. On his way into the elevator, he passed two women, both wearing sunglasses. He thought that peculiar, and even more peculiar, he thought he recognised the woman with short brunette hair. After attempting to place the woman, he concluded he was in no state of mind to try.

Laying down on his bed, his thoughts wondered to Alice. He hadn’t heard anything about her since they were last together. He wasn’t even sure if she was still in the music business. He wondered would he ever see her again. He hoped he would, but a feeling in his gut told him it would happen eventually. Sooner, or later, he thought.

Waking up slightly hungover, he showered and prepared for the day of recording ahead. It wasn’t to be a serious session, more of a jam of sorts and hopefully produce a track in the process.

Strolling casually into Bill’s recording studio, he noticed that, as per usual, everybody was there expect Mick. On second look he noticed that Mick Taylor was not there either.

“Where are the Mick’s?”

“I think Jagger is just late, but oh, theres Taylor there now!”

Just as Keith finished speaking, Mick Taylor walked in, guitar case in hand. This would be the first time Jimmy and Mick played together, and he hoped they would get on well.

“Jimmy, great to see you again, ready to play?”

“Nice to see you too, lets get down to it shall we boys?”

Mick Jagger had finally arrived, so he and Keith were working on lyrics, while Charlie and Bill were working on rhythms and riffs, leaving Jimmy and Mick Taylor to work out the main guitar melody. They worked really well together, as they both had the same blues origins and both loved incorporating it into new material.

“So who's the sound tech here anyway” Jimmy asked, while in the process of tuning his guitar down.

“Allie, she's been with us for the album, she's great, have you met her before?”

“Hmm, the name doesn't sound familiar I don't think”

“Well she had an appointment, so she’ll probably be here within the next hour” Mick commented, a shy smile coming onto his face when mentioning her.

After around half an hour of messing around, the boys were finally ready to start the recording tapes. All that stopped then was the missing sound tech.

“Good afternoon boys, I, being your guardian angel have brought lunch for all of us” Alice said cheerily, bursting through the door with a bright smile.

Jimmy’s head shot up at the sound of her voice, suddenly connecting all the dots. The feeling in his gut about meeting her, the woman in the hotel, and the ‘Allie’ nickname.

“Oh thank you Alice, forgot to mention we invited a special guest to join our entourage, last night at Bill’s after you and Taylor left” spoke Mick Jagger with his usual eloquence.

“Alice!”

“Jimmy” Alice replied curtly, a hint of sourness in her blank expression. Jimmy was now in front of Alice, greeting her.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, its been what, nearly four years! I didn’t even know if you were still an audio tech” Jimmy said warmly, excited to see her again

“I would say it’s a pleasure to see you too, but its not, so I wont” Alice casually said, blanking him, and moving further into the room. She set the bags of fresh food on the table, in the back of the recording section of the large hall. Jimmy watched her walk away casually, totally taken off guard by her coldness. The rest of the Stones all caught this too, extremely confused, but a little entertained by their encounter.

“Wait, you guys know each other?” Keith asked, a small smirk on his lips, pointing between the two.

“I would say used to know, I was on of the engineers on Zeppelin II in 69”

“Hold on, I didn’t know you worked Zeppelin II? That means you must have been a teenager when you worked on it. Blimey” Mick, asked, all of this coming news to him, as well to the others. 

“I suppose you wouldn’t, after all I wasn’t even credited, nor my boss Tom” Alice said coolly, still not turning away from setting up the various soups and sandwiches. 

Obviously, the teenage Alice that Jimmy once knew was long gone. 

“God, Allie you look so old, what are you now? Twenty four, twenty five” Jimmy asked, sampling the new nickname, trying to break the stifling awkwardness that now infected the room.

“Still getting my age wrong I see, Jimmy. Im surprised you still know my name, after all the stunts you pulled over the last four years” Alice replied, walking directly towards Jimmy, accompanied with razor sharp glare. She now stood directly on front of him, slightly invading his personal space. She has grown taller and her face matured, loosing the slight roundness to her cheeks she once possessed. She apparently had cut off her long wavy crimson locks, in favour of a modern, dark brown bob.

“Uh, what’re you talking about?” Jimmy asked chuckling nervously as he scratched his head, hoping she wouldn’t notice his feigned innocence.

“Oh I’m sure you know, as does everyone else in this room. I don't really have the energy to continue this irrelevant conversation, or frankly, any conversation in general with you at this point. Also, it’s Alice to you” Alice stated sternly with a finger pointed to his chest. Jimmy could practically see the ice swirling in her cool blue eyes, the eyes he had come to miss over the years. He had never had encountered her true, red headed temperament. Now that he was on the receiving end, he desperately wanted to stay away from it.

“I’m not really hungry anyway, so I’ll be in the mod room if you guys need me” Alice said, directing her words to everyone but Jimmy, before leaving and entering the conjoining mod room. Mick Taylor quickly set his down his burnt orange Les Paul, then followed Alice out of the room.

“Woah, I haven’t seen drama like this since the last time Mick and Bowie had an arguement - which was last week, I think hmm” Keith remarked with a sarcastic finger on his chin, before moving to serve himself some soup.

“Actually Keef, I think this charade is a lot more entertaining than David’s and I’s little tiffs, as this is bit more of a lovers quarrel”

“Better not let Taylor hear that, or he’ll have to have a word with you Pagey” Bill commented, wide grin now on his face.

Jimmy was now the confused one. He turned to Charlie, silently asking him about Alice and Mick with the point of his finger. Charlie simply shrugged his shrugged his shoulders in response before going back to drumming a riff with the hi-hats and snare drums.

After everybody had ate or, cooled off, recording was finally underway. After a couple of takes, Alice interrupted to give some pointers.

“Look boys, I’m gonna be candid with you all. It sounds shit” Alice said into the mic. Ever since she had gotten more experience under belt, she became renowned for her no bullshit opinions. In turn, people valued her honestly and knew what she said was, more often than not, right.

“Yeah, boys let’s not sugarcoat it, we’re not exactly gelling as one” Keith commented, starting to become fed up with having to balance not only Mick Jaggers usual dramatics, but another egotistical lead guitarist in the mix.

“Okay, what do you think love?” Mick Taylor asked softly, trying to keep the peace before something erupted. He wasn’t wrong, the Stones, along with a quarter of Led Zeppelin, and a hot headed tech was a bit of a lethal cocktail. Fights often combusted quickly between the Stones and Alice, as all members were just as stubborn as each other.

“Well it sounds like there’s 5 Stones, and 25% Led Zeppelin playing. What I want, and what fans want to hear is The Stones featuring Jimmy Page. You five need to change your usual routine of recording for once and mix it up. And you” she looked to Jimmy “need to stop pretending you’re with the other boys. You both need to work with each others strengths and quit overcompensating. Stop pretending you’re something you’re not”

Everybody in the entire house probably could pick up that the last sentence was a direct jab to Jimmy. Another awkward silence passed, ultimately stemming from a staring contest between Alice and the famed guitarist.

“Oh my fucking god, kill me now” Mick muttered, pinching his nose, while Charlie just rolled his eyes and started drumming the start of the song. Eventually Keith started the riff with Mick Taylor,along with Bill and Charlie carrying the bass and percussion, and Mick Jagger singing the lyrics. Only when they reached the solo part, did Jimmy break eye contact with Alice and begin playing.

Finishing up recording, the boys all started to leave. Mick and Jimmy were the last to pack up their stuff, and an uncomfortable air fell over them. Obviously they both either had history, or were making history with Alice. Eventually Mick realised he should probably let the pair talk it out, so, as Jimmy toward the mod room door, Mick moved toward the hallway door.

“Alice, can we talk? Obviously things have become a bit strained between us, and I don’t want it to stay like this” Jimmy started softly. It was probably his choice of words that set Alice off, as immediately after his finished she whipped around from the sound board and kicked off.

“ 'Strained' Jimmy, are you serious?! Strained?! First of all, you didn’t even tell me you weren’t mixing the album with us, and then you just left after our night together. Then- don’t try to interrupt me James. Then, you barely even credit Tom for his songwriting tips on the album. You didn’t even mention me once, even whenever anyone brings up that Theremin part in ‘Whole Lotta Love’! You blush and go on to explain how it was your own fantastic brain that thought of it. The you had the audacity to diss Mystic studios in the papers! What was it you said again? Oh yeah, 'Mystic Studios was far from mystical and closer to meagre, and as a result, the workers were too.” Alice snarled, stream practically blowing out her ears.

“Okay, I agree that comment about Mystics’s capabilities was definitely wrong, I was extremely out of it in that interview- hell I even jibed Atlantic Records!” Jimmy was now getting frustrated too. Normally, no one put him in his place, or gave out to him.

“And then how cold you were about Tom!”

“Wait what happened with Tom?” Jimmy inquired, now serious.

“Oh my fucking god Jimmy” Alice shouted at him “you don’t even remember to you?” She said with a laugh. She searched his face, but all she saw was confusion in his light grey eyes.

“Tom had a fucking stroke last year. Peter told you, and don’t you dare deny it, as he told me he informed you all when I spoke to him on the phone. For Christ’s sake even Bonzo rang to see how he was doing! He didn’t even have my number, but he found it anyway! Robert and John joined the call after he finished speaking. When I asked for you, they said you were in a closet fucking a groupie!”

“Look Alice, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to sa-”

“I’m not surprised Jimmy, it’s a marvel you can play guitar at all, with having no fucking sense in your thick head”

“Stop being so fucking rude to me, you’re not perfect either! Don’t act so high and mighty! I know what went on in Geffen records! I’m mates with David Geffen” Jimmy was no shouting too. At the mention of David Geffen, Alice’s face immediately switched from red to a pale white.

“You do not know what happened between myself and David, if you did, you wouldn’t speak to him ever again” Alice spoke low and slowly, her face now white as a sheet.

Unbeknownst to the pair, all of the Stones were listening outside. When they heard Jimmy shouting about Geffen, Mick Taylor had enough and burst in. The rest of the boys tried to stop him, but he broke free.

“Jimmy, stop it. You don’t know anything about the Geffen incident. You don’t know Alice anymore. I suggest you leave her alone before I step in more. Al, let’s go, our driver is outside.” Mick stretched his hand out to Alice, her eyes now watery, trying to bite down her quivering lip.

Alice immediately joined Mick, and left without a second look to Jimmy.

Jimmy, now alone in the mod room, felt his gut twist with guilt. Had something bad happened with David Geffen and Alice? His mind wondered to Mick’s choice of words -‘incident’. He had heard rumours that were more damaging on David’s behalf, but being friendly with him, he thought he knew him better than all the tabloids and industry gossip.

Jimmy realised that both he and Alice had changed drastically in the last four years, how could he have expected everything to go back to how it was in the summer of ‘69? Now, they were even more distant than ever before.

Maybe they had missed their chance at eternity. Maybe the stars had uncrossed.

His heart nearly broke at the revelation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ok so chapter four !!!

I wanna write angst more often it’s my guilty pleasure

anyway, I think this is my favourite piece I’ve written 😌

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