#i got like 5k or something into ch 3 and decided

[miiyumei]

i have not: finished chapter 3 of the skk tennis au

i have: rewritten chapter 2, adding over 4k new words to it……

[simplygojo]

The Devil He Made Me - Ch. 3

Authors Note: Hello friends!! Thank you to everyone who has been reading this so far, I appreciate the kind DMs I’ve gotten :) I’m excited for this series a lot so I hope you enjoy, and oh boy am I only getting started. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the next chapter!!

ALSO I have been getting some requests, I am super sick right now so I will get to them asap but I LOVE the ideas y’all are giving me!! THANK YOU!

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Series Summary : After being found by Gojo and his first year students in a sticky situation, y/n joins Jujutsu High under the close supervision of Gojo. As time passes, the two of you become close, with a strong unspoken bond forming as you work together. Although, there is something dark looming over the situation, and those at Jujutsu High are determined to get to the bottom of it, before it is too late.

Chapter Summary : Tensions rise as Gojo and the first-years return from their mission, only to find y/n grappling with the growing mystery of her cursed energy. After a fateful encounter with Maki, and an accidental release of power, the higher-ups demand answers. Gojo decides to bring y/n along on their next mission, but when her cursed energy flares uncontrollably during a high-level curse battle, questions of who—or what—she truly is become impossible to ignore.

Word Count : 5k

Warnings : Some general violence, suggestive themes

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The mission at the community college had been tedious but successful. Gojo, Megumi, Nobara, and Yuji walked back onto school grounds, a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction hanging in the air. The sun was already sinking, casting the campus in a soft, warm glow. Despite the day’s events, Gojo’s stride remained as casual as ever, hands resting behind his head, as though he hadn’t just helped exorcise multiple curses.

Megumi was the first to notice you, pacing anxiously near the common area, your movements restless. He nudged Yuji, who caught on immediately and called out, “Y/n! We’re back!”

You stopped mid-step, eyes lighting up with excitement as you walked over to the group. “You guys! You’re back! I’ve been waiting to tell you something!”

Gojo quirked a brow, his usual playful smile stretching across his face, watching you cheerfully walk towards him. “Oh? Miss me?”

You rolled your eyes, though a grin tugged at your lips, your heart produced an extra beat. But, you ignored his comment. “I ran into Maki earlier, and…” You paused for dramatic effect, looking between Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara. “I accidentally released cursed energy. Actual cursed energy!”

There was a moment of silence as your words sunk in. Yuji’s face lit up like a firework, excitement practically bubbling out of him. “No way! That’s awesome, y/n!”

Nobara, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. “Accidentally? Or are you secretly getting good at this?” She teased with a smile.

You gave a sheepish shrug, the memory of Maki’s provocation still fresh in your mind. “I wasn’t really trying. It just… happened. Maki kind of…well to sum it up I guess I just got frustrated.”

Gojo stepped closer, his curiosity piqued. “Frustration, huh? Strong emotions are usually a pretty good trigger for cursed energy.”

Megumi regarded you with his typical calm, analytical stare. “Was it controlled, or was it just a flare?”

“I think it was more of a flare,” you admitted. “But it was something. Everyone here has been waiting for me to do something.”

Yuji clapped you on the back with an encouraging grin. “Hey, progress is progress! You’re on your way.”

“Mm, a fluke maybe,” Nobara teased, though there was a hint of approval in her voice. “But if you’re already producing cursed energy by accident, imagine what you could do on purpose!”

You couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride swell in your chest. For the first time since being found in the forest, you felt like you had a tiny bit of control over the strange circumstances you found yourself in. 

Gojo’s voice interrupted your thoughts, his tone light but with a strange undercurrent that you couldn’t quite place. “Well, fluke or not, it’s a good sign. Guess I’m doing a pretty decent job with your training after all.”

Your eyes narrowed playfully at him. “You’re giving yourself too much credit.”

“Oh, come on,” he grinned, leaning a little too close, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “You know I’m the best you’ve ever had.” He let out a loud chuckle. “Best teacher, that is.”

You opened your mouth to retort but thought better of it, deciding not to feed into his usual antics. Instead, you took a step back, straightening up. “Yeah, well, I still don’t know how to use the cursed energy.”

Gojo’s grin softened just a bit, “Well then, that’s your focus for the next few days.” You nodded quietly, feeling the weight of the task settling on your shoulders. Without another word, you turned away, heading back to the couches to gather your things. The others had already started heading to their rooms, leaving you in the common area with only the faint echoes of their retreating footsteps.

As you bent down to collect your jacket, you felt eyes on you. Glancing up, you realized Gojo hadn’t left with the others. He stood there, casually leaning against the doorway, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“Is there something else, Gojo?” you asked, unsure why he was lingering.

“Not really,” he said shortly. His usual cocky grin had faded, replaced by a gentle smile that seemed strangely out of place—content, almost peaceful—nothing like the Gojo you were used to. “You know, y/n, most of the students around here call me ‘sensei,’” he added with a teasing lilt as you approached.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not doing that. Besides, we’re practically the same age. And I didn’t ask for you to be my teacher, so I think it’s fair I just call you by your name.”

As you tried to step past him, he moved quickly, his arm extending across the doorway, blocking your path. You froze, blinking up at him in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden proximity.

“So, that means we have a more casual relationship, then…” he said, his voice low, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

You stared at him, unsure how to respond. There was no way he was serious. Gojo was a notorious tease, always testing boundaries with his playful charm. You told yourself this was just another one of his games—something to fluster you, to keep you on your toes. He didn’t mean anything by it… right?

With a shrug, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, hoping your smirk looked as confident as you wanted it to. “I guess so,” you replied, the words coming out more smug than you intended.

Before he could say anything else, you ducked swiftly under his arm, slipping past him and into the hallway. You kept your pace steady, resisting the urge to glance back, but you could feel his eyes on you the whole way.

Gojo watched you as you walked away, his thoughts lingering on the way you spoke to him, the way you moved, the way you handled yourself. There was something about you—something different, something he couldn’t quite put into words. You weren’t intimidated by him. Not in the way most people were. You challenged him in a way that made him feel… unsettled. Intrigued.

He couldn’t help but smile to himself, shaking his head as he pushed off from the doorway and followed in the direction you had gone. There was a lot he didn’t understand about you yet. But one thing was certain—you were far more interesting than he had expected.

—

Later that evening, after everyone had settled back into their routines, you found yourself alone in the common area, curled up on the couch with a book that Inumaki had lent you about the inner workings of cursed energy. It was peaceful, the kind of quiet that you had grown to appreciate after the chaos of training and missions. You absentmindedly flipped through the pages, your mind wandering back to the encounter with Maki.

It had been such a small moment—an accident, really. But the cursed energy that flared from your hands had felt real, like something buried deep within you–something that wasn’t there before–had been awakened, however briefly. You had no memory of your life before being found in that forest, but for the first time, you wondered if this power had always been inside you.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. You glanced up to see Gojo sauntering into the room, his hands in his pockets and his signature grin plastered on his face. He plopped down beside you on the couch without so much as a greeting, stretching out his long legs and letting out a content sigh.

“Enjoying the quiet?” he asked, his voice calm as he leaned closer to you to see what you were reading.

You shrugged, closing your book. “It’s nice… for a change.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something Gojo wasn’t saying. His usually playful demeanor seemed… muted. And it wasn’t like him to sit still for this long.

Eventually, he broke the silence. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything? From the forest?”

Your stomach flipped at the question. You had gone over this a hundred times with Shoko, but every time he brought it up, his voice had a new edge—like he wasn’t just asking out of curiosity anymore.

“I’ve told you,” you said, a little more defensively than you intended. “I don’t remember anything. It’s all a blur. I’m not some enemy trying to infiltrate the ‘jujutsu world’ or whatever.”

Gojo tilted his head, his smile softening into something that almost looked like concern. “No strange dreams? No flashes of memory? Nothing?”

“No,” you replied firmly, though his questions had begun to unsettle you. “Why? Do you think there’s something I should remember?”

Gojo leaned his head back and let his gaze drift to the ceiling. You noticed his jaw clench as he did so. "Nah, I just thought that maybe something might come back eventually."

You narrowed your eyes at him, not quite believing his casual tone. “Is that really why you’re asking?”

Gojo chuckled, though it was a bit more forced than usual. “Maybe I’m just worried about you.”

“Worried about me?” You raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you become a big worrier?”

“Since I found you half-conscious in a forest with no memory,” he replied smoothly, though there was a new tension in his voice. 

There it was—the shift you had been sensing in him lately. He was always teasing, always playing around, but in the past few weeks, there had been moments like this where something in his tone changed. Like he was watching you more closely, paying attention in a way that made your skin tingle and your heart flutter. But just as quickly as it came, it disappeared. His usual smirk returned, and the moment passed.

“Don’t overthink it,” Gojo said, standing up abruptly, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’m a curious guy, and you’re a mystery to us all right now.” He paused, patting down his pockets as if searching for something. “That means you really are just my type, y/n.”

Your breath hitched slightly at his words, but before you could say anything, he casually pulled a small white pastry box from his pocket and placed it on the couch cushion where he had just been sitting. “Picked this up today in Tokyo while heading back from the mission,” he added with a nonchalant shrug before strolling toward the door.

You stared at the box, trying to process the whirlwind that was Gojo Satoru. One moment he was making cryptic comments, the next he was leaving you sweets. ‘What a strange guy,’ you thought to yourself, shaking your head at his unpredictability. There was always something about him that kept you guessing, that made it impossible to fully figure him out. He was an enigma, equal parts charm and mystery, with a habit of leaving you just as intrigued as you were confused.

Curiosity finally got the best of you, and you reached for the box, unfolding it to reveal a freshly baked, delicious-smelling chocolate chunk cookie. You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you stared down at the treat, warmth spreading in your chest. For all his teasing and unpredictability, Gojo had a way of surprising you in the most unexpected ways.

Taking a bite, you practically melted at the taste—it was perfect, like everything else he seemed to do effortlessly. As you savoured the sweetness, you glanced at the door where Gojo had disappeared.

‘Maybe he’s not as impossible as I thought,’ you mused, biting back a grin. Even if he was a strange guy, maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than he let on. And with that, you enjoyed your treat and returned to your studies.

—

Meanwhile, in the administrative wing of the school, Nanami, Principal Yaga, and a few other higher-ranking sorcerers had gathered for a private meeting. The topic of conversation was you—and the growing concern surrounding your mysterious past.

Nanami sat at the table, his brow furrowed as he listened to the others discuss the situation. He had always been one to trust his instincts, and something about you didn’t sit right with him. He wasn’t suspicious of you, per se, but the circumstances surrounding your discovery were troubling.

“We still have no idea where she came from,” one of the sorcerers said, shaking his head. “No family, no records. It’s like she just appeared out of nowhere.”

Principal Yaga nodded thoughtfully, his hands clasped in front of him. “And she has no memory of anything before we found her?”

“None,” Nanami confirmed. “Shoko has done multiple tests. Everything comes up clean. But that doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous.”

Nanami’s words hung in the air, the unspoken implications clear. While you hadn’t shown any signs of malicious intent, the lack of information made everyone uneasy. In the world of jujutsu sorcery, too many unknowns could lead to disaster.

“What about her cursed energy?” Yaga asked.

“She’s shown some potential,” Nanami replied. “But it’s raw. Uncontrolled.”

“And Gojo?” another sorcerer chimed in. “He’s the one working with her most closely.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened slightly at the mention of Gojo’s name. “Gojo believes she’s harmless. But he also has a tendency to take risks.”

Principal Yaga’s eyes narrowed, clearly weighing the situation carefully. “We can’t afford to ignore this. If there’s even a chance she could become a threat…”

“We should monitor her more closely,” Nanami suggested. “Let her accompany Gojo and his students on missions. That way, we can observe how her cursed energy reacts in different situations.”

There was a murmur of agreement around the table, though the atmosphere remained tense. No one wanted to treat you as an enemy, but the unpredictability of your situation was too great to ignore.

Principal Yaga leaned back in his chair, his expression grim. “Keep an eye on her. But if anything changes—if she shows any sign of being a threat—we’ll have to eliminate her.”

Nanami nodded, though there was a heaviness in his chest. He didn’t want to think the worst of you, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to your story than anyone realized.

—

It was two days later when Gojo approached you with the news.

“You’re coming with us on the next mission,” he said casually, as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked, looking up from where you were seated on the outdoor training grounds, a faint breeze rustling through the trees as you practiced your breathing exercises. “Wait, what? I’m going with you?”

Gojo strolled over, hands stuffed in his pockets, before plopping down on the grass beside you, stretching out in his usual relaxed manner. “Yep. Nanami and the higher-ups want to see how you handle real-life situations with curses, so you’ll be tagging along. It’s mostly for observation, though. Don’t worry, I won’t throw you into the fire.”

You frowned, setting aside the faint energy you had been trying to summon. Your fingers trailed over the grass absentmindedly as you narrowed your eyes at him. “And you’re okay with that? Letting them spy on me?”

Gojo’s expression didn’t shift much, but his eyes—those usually carefree, playful eyes—darkened just a little. “They’re just being cautious. No need to take it personally.”

“Right,” you muttered, sarcasm lacing your tone. “Because being treated like a ticking time bomb is totally not personal.”

Gojo sighed, leaning back on his arms and staring up at the blue sky. “It’s not that simple. You’re still a puzzle to everyone, including yourself. Until we know more about where you came from and what you’re capable of, there’s going to be some hesitation. You get that, don’t you?”

You hated to admit it, but he was right. You had no idea who you really were or what had happened to you before Gojo and the first-years found you in that forest. As much as you wanted to believe you were harmless, the unknowns surrounding your situation were hard to ignore.

Still, it stung to be treated like an experiment.

“So, what exactly am I supposed to do on this mission?” you asked, shifting the topic slightly, your voice quieter now.

Gojo’s grin returned, though there was still a hint of seriousness beneath it. “Observe, mostly. Keep an eye on how curses react around you and try to get a feel for controlling your cursed energy in a real situation. I’ll be there to guide you, so no need to panic.”

You shot him a skeptical look, brushing stray grass off your pants. “That’s reassuring.”

He chuckled, leaning in a little closer, his voice lowering just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Trust me. I’ve got you.”

For a brief moment, his playful mask seemed to slip, and you caught a glimpse of something deeper in his eyes—something protective. It was fleeting, though, and before you could dwell on it, Gojo was back to his usual self, standing up and stretching his arms over his head.

“Anyway, get some rest tonight. We leave early tomorrow.”

He gave you one last lazy wave before turning to head back toward the school, leaving you to sit in the growing twilight, the weight of his words settling in. Trust him… Easier said than done.

—

The next morning, you found yourself standing alongside Gojo, Megumi, and Yuji at the gates of the school. The atmosphere was unusually tense, likely due to the nature of the mission. Gojo had explained that the team had been called to investigate a cemetery that had been plagued by a high-level curse, and while it was supposed to be routine, there was always the possibility that things could go sideways.

You weren’t sure how you felt about being thrown into the mix so soon, especially after the incident with Maki. But Gojo had insisted that it would be fine, and as much as you hated to admit it, you trusted him. His carefree attitude aside, Gojo had proven time and time again that he was more than capable of handling dangerous situations.

“Ready for your first mission?” Yuji asked, bouncing on his heels with excitement.

You offered a small smile, though your stomach was doing flips. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got your back,” He said, giving you a reassuring nod. “Just stick close to us.”

Megumi, standing a little further back, glanced at you with his usual unreadable expression. “If anything happens, don’t hesitate to use your cursed energy, even if it’s just a flare. These curses are quick.”

You nodded, appreciating his calm presence. Even though you hadn’t known Megumi for long, there was something about him that put you at ease. Maybe it was his no-nonsense attitude or the way he always seemed to have things under control. Either way, it helped.

Gojo led the way as the group set off toward the cemetery. It wasn’t too far from the school grounds, but the oppressive energy that seemed to hang over the area was enough to send a chill down your spine. As you approached the iron gates, you could feel the cursed energy in the air—thick, heavy, and familiar...

“This is it,” Gojo said, his tone more serious than you were used to. “Stay close, and don’t wander off. We don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with yet.”

The cemetery was eerily quiet as you all stepped inside. The overgrown grass rustled faintly in the wind, and the gravestones seemed to loom larger than they should have. You could feel the cursed energy pulsing beneath your feet, like the ground itself was alive with something dark and dangerous.

Gojo motioned for the group to spread out slightly, keeping a cautious distance from each other as they scanned the area for any signs of the curse. You stayed close to Yuji, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to keep your own cursed energy in check. It was difficult—the atmosphere here made your skin prickle, and you could feel your cursed energy stirring just beneath the surface. 

“Stay calm,” Gojo’s voice rang out softly, his eyes sharp as they scanned the cemetery. “We’ll handle whatever comes our way.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to focus on keeping your energy under control. But something about this place was getting to you. The air felt thick, suffocating, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching you.

Suddenly, Megumi stopped, his eyes narrowing as he pointed ahead. “There.”

At first, you didn’t see it, but then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of movement. A shadow, slipping between the gravestones, too fast to track. Your heart skipped a beat as the cursed energy in the air spiked, the oppressive force nearly knocking you off balance.

“It’s moving,” Yuji said, tensing as he prepared for a fight.

Gojo’s grin returned, though there was a sharpness in his eyes that told you he was ready for whatever was coming. “Alright, team. Let’s make this quick!” 

The curse made itself known then, rising from the shadows, a grotesque figure with six twisted limbs and three hollow eyes. It moved with unnatural speed, lunging toward Megumi with a snarl, but he was quick to summon his shikigami, meeting the attack head-on.

The battle erupted around you, and for a moment, you were frozen, unsure of what to do. Your cursed energy was still pulsing wildly inside you, but you didn’t know how to control it. You could only watch as Yuji and Megumi moved with practiced precision, their cursed techniques flowing effortlessly as they fought off the creature. And that is when you noticed a lack of Gojo’s presence. You were just stood there watching, frozen in place.

Suddenly, you felt a surge of cursed energy within yourself—stronger than anything you’d felt before. It came out of nowhere, like a dam breaking, and you gasped as the energy flared to life around you. The sensation was overwhelming, electric, as it crackled along your skin, raw and untamed. Your breath hitched, memories of your accidental release in front of Maki flashing in your mind. But this time, there was something different—this time, you could feel it building in your palms, swirling with more intensity than ever before.

“Y/n!” Gojo’s voice cut through the haze, sharp with concern. You blinked, trying to regain your focus, but everything around you seemed to blur. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure moving jaggedly toward you—a curse, creeping closer.

Your heartbeat quickened, panic rising. Your mind screamed at you to move, to act, but your body felt frozen in place, the cursed energy continuing to surge uncontrollably within you. The adrenaline hit you like a wave, along with an undeniable frustration—an anger, even—at feeling so powerless. Your body reacted on instinct.

Without thinking, your hands glowed a bright blue, cursed energy pouring into your palms. It was hot, too hot, burning as it built up, and before you could process what was happening, you let it go. The blast of raw power shot forward, aimed directly at the curse.

The energy struck the creature with a force that staggered it, causing it to shriek in pain. The cursed form writhed as it absorbed the blow, disoriented and vulnerable. It gave Yuji the opening he needed. He didn’t waste a second, leaping forward with a yell and delivering a final blow laced with a streak of red cursed energy. The curse crumbled into ash, dissolving into the wind.

For a moment, everything was still.

You stood there, breathless, the remnants of cursed energy buzzing faintly across your skin. Your hands tingled, shaking slightly as if they hadn’t quite registered the release of power. The cemetery, once filled with the sounds of battle, was now eerily silent. And then, you noticed it—all eyes were on you. Yuji, Megumi, even Gojo. Everyone was staring, as though they had just witnessed something… different, something they hadn’t expected from you.

The weight of their gazes made your chest tighten. You felt exposed, vulnerable, like a secret part of you had just been revealed—one that you didn’t fully understand yourself.

Gojo was the first to speak, stepping closer. His usual playful demeanor had dimmed, replaced with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Concern? Pride? Maybe both. His voice was uncharacteristically soft, yet carried a strange intensity. “Well, that was impressive, but a close one, y/n.”

His words hit you like a cold splash of water, pulling you out of your daze. You looked down at your hands, still trembling. “I… I didn’t mean to do that,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

Yuji came up behind you, his hand landing on your back in a reassuring pat. His smile was warm, but his eyes reflected a hint of worry. “Accidental or not, you helped. That’s what matters.”

Even Megumi, who was always so stoic, nodded at you, his gaze steady. “You did well.”

Despite their reassurances, a sinking feeling formed in the pit of your stomach. That power you had unleashed—it didn’t feel like it was entirely yours. The cursed energy felt foreign, almost as though it had been pulled from somewhere deep inside, a place you hadn’t known existed. The sensation unsettled you.

As you stood there, still trying to process what had just happened, you could feel Gojo’s eyes on you. Unlike the others, his expression wasn’t one of relief or approval—it was far more unreadable. His gaze lingered longer than usual, as if he were trying to unravel something, some mystery that only he could sense.

It was the same question that had hung silently between you since the day he found you.

What are you?

His silence carried that question now, as did the way he watched you with a mix of curiosity and concern. He didn’t say it, but you knew. You could feel it. And what scared you most was the nagging fear that you might not want to know the answer.

“You two go see if there are any other low level curses lingering, meet us back here.” Gojo instructed to Yuji and Megumi, who quickly went to secure the area.

Gojo’s voice broke through your thoughts once more, this time quieter, more subdued. “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” he said, his tone laced with an unspoken concern. He took a quick step toward you. “You’re still new to this. You shouldn’t be able to summon cursed energy that strong… not yet.”

You looked up at him, the faint tremor still lingering in your hands, tears welling in your eyes, threatening to spill over. It took you a second to fully realize just how close he was—closer than he usually stood. Your breath caught in your throat as you noticed his blindfold, usually obscuring his gaze, now hung loosely around his neck. It was startling, seeing his ocean-blue eyes for the first time without any barrier, and they were locked onto yours, as if searching for something beneath your surface.

His gaze was intense, almost too much to bear, like a storm brewing just behind the calm sea of his eyes. The way he looked at you, so deeply, so fully—it felt like he could see right through you, down to the very core of your being. Your heart pounded in your chest, and for a moment, it was as though the world had shrunk down to just the two of you standing there, in the aftermath of whatever it was that had just happened.

“I don’t know what happened,” your voice was barely a whisper, shaky, raw with emotion. “It just… came out. Like I couldn’t stop it. I-I’m sorry.”

His frown deepened, the sharp edges of his usual confidence dulling as his expression softened in a way you hadn’t seen before. His eyes, so clear and unguarded now, reflected something you hadn’t expected to see in him: worry. For the briefest moment, the mask he wore, the one that shielded him from the world, slipped. His vulnerability was laid bare, just for you to see.

“That’s exactly what worries me,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, his voice a low, hushed tone that sent a shiver down your spine. His words lingered in the air, heavy with a meaning that neither of you fully understood yet.

For a second, his hand twitched, like he was about to reach out, to touch you, but he stopped himself. The space between you felt charged, a tension hanging in the air that was as palpable as the energy crackling through your fingertips earlier. His closeness, the warmth of his presence, the way his gaze softened as it held yours—it all felt too much, and yet, not enough. You could feel the pull between you, something unspoken, lingering in the narrow distance that separated you.

But then, just as quickly as it had appeared, that moment of vulnerability was gone. Gojo stepped back, the mask of his usual calm, collected self sliding back into place like a practiced routine. His playful smirk returned, though there was still something different about it, like the echoes of his concern hadn’t fully faded yet.

“Don’t think too much about it for now,” he said, his tone light but his gaze still serious. “Just… rest. We’ll figure this out. You’re okay.” And with two fingers he lifted his blindfold back into place.

You nodded, though your mind was far from calm. Your hands still shook slightly, your heart still raced from the intensity of the moment. But more than anything, it was the memory of his eyes, his bare, unfiltered gaze, that lingered long after he turned to walk away, leaving you with more questions than answers.

As Gojo turned to walk away, his usual swagger in each step, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was shifting—that this wasn’t just about you anymore. All of the mystery surrounding you was concerning.

And in that moment, you realized he wasn’t just concerned about your situation—he was concerned for you.

[imogenleewriter]

I have opened up to reading WIPS because of your fics (I love all of them, by the way!!!!!!!). Do you have any others to reccomend? 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Honestly, I hate that WIPs get such a bad wrap. I get it because I hate waiting too, but it's also so exciting to get the email, you know? Like I'd rather get it piece by piece than not at all. I'm not going to make this a pretty post because they won't stay WIPs, but here are some of my favourites! I'm only posting ones that have been uploaded to within the last month, but most have been uploaded to within the last week. I Don't Wanna Face The Music - hereforh / @hereforh Current WC: 24k 3/10 - Weekly uploads. Summary: Louis likes to think he's a pretty normal, typical lad. He likes spending nights at the pub with his mates, he loves football and is very close to his family. So when he moves to London for uni, he doesn’t think much will be different. Until he makes these new friends who are nothing like his mates back home and change his life for the better - and this one boy who messes with his head from the get-go and makes him question everything he has ever thought about himself.

Anything But Awkward - The_Dizzy_Pixie / @dizzy-pixie17 Current WC:91k Ch: 17/? Summary: Harry looked down at the signed album in his hands before flipping it over. He blinked at the sight of the cramped and rather messy handwriting scribbled on the back of the vinyl jacket. When you’re less tongue-tied, maybe give me a call, babes. xx :)  +44 280913 7777 Harry groaned when he walked right into the side of a bus shelter. Louis Tomlinson had given Harry his number. OR The one where Louis's a rockstar, and Harry's his biggest fan. When he meets him at a signing, he's awkward and forgets everything he wants to say to him but Louis thinks he's cute and gives Harry his number.

Babes In Boyland - bananaheathen/@bananaheathen Current WC: 37k Ch: 4/? Summary: The genderqueer parenthood sequel to Of Mates and Men ❤️ In which, Harry and Louis decide to start a family. Or, the one where they all grow up.

The Pros and Cons of Breathing - HelloLovers13/@hellolovers13 Current WC: 50k Ch: 12/19 Summary: Omega Harry has always known he'd be married off someday, so when he's betrothed to Prince Louis, he's anxious about having to leave his life behind, but hopeful for a happy marriage. The hope doesn't last long, with his husband avoiding him at all costs and Harry being left to fend for himself. Can he find happiness even in a broken marriage? everything to lose - stylinsoncity / @stylinsoncity Current WC: 80k Ch: 14/15 Summary: harry is a global popstar who's convinced the world he has it all -- a happy marriage to a devoted alpha, two beautiful children, two grammy awards, three platinum albums, and a budding film career. but some aspects of his image aren't as true as they seem. like the fact he's been separated for over a year, uses meaningless flings to cope and occasionally forgets responsibilities or commitments to his family. he and louis once commanded stages together. they tackled any challenges to their future. and no matter how hard things got, they always returned to one another. harry would always return to louis. until one day, he finds he can't.

Bike Strike - thinlines / @thinlinez Current WC: 62k Ch: 13/14 Summary: What would you do if you saw someone riding your bike, which had been stolen weeks before, across campus? Omega Harry chose to show no mercy. He didn't know it would all lead him to his own demise. The Habit That I Cant Break - Cyantific / @cyantific Current WC:5k Ch:2/10 Summary: While searching for a healthy alternative to fill the void that one habit left, Louis gets hooked on something and someone totally different. This new experience pushes him way out of his comfort zone, making Louis realize he’s capable of so much more than he could’ve ever imagined. Or… The one where Louis quits smoking and tries to get healthy, and Harry is the fitness instructor who helps him achieve those goals while making him sweat in and out of the gym. In which Harry and Louis still meet at bootcamp, just not the one you’re thinking of. Featuring Lottie as the supportive sister that drags her brother to bootcamp class, Louis as the grumpy ex-smoker, Harry as the instructor with exhausting amounts of enthusiasm and one obnoxious pair of yellow trainers.

Addictive Heart - Alwaysinlove /@always-in-love-x Current WC: 91k Ch: 41/? Summary: Louis prefers to be single. He's seen too many relationships crumble around him to want a boyfriend in his life. As a successful singer on tour, his schedule doesn't exactly allow for a relationship anyway. So he has Harry. Beautiful, handsome Harry, who always turns up whenever Louis is lonely or horny. Because Harry is in love with him. Sadly, Louis doesn't do love. Until one day, Harry stops replying to Louis' messages and he goes on a mission to find out why... Two Hearts In One Home - enchantedlandcoffee / @enchantedlandcoffee Current WC: 14k Ch: 3/? Summary: Best friends Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles have been living together for almost 3 years. With Louis' YouTube videos mainly featuring challenges, vlogs, and tutorials, his best friend is unknowingly a common topic on his channel (with his identity hidden) leading his viewers to believe that they are dating. What happens when Harry's childhood friend, Niall Horan, returns from Ireland and turns out to be one of his biggest fans and sends a tweet that turns his life upside down?

On The Horizon - FitzAndLarry / @fitzandlarry Current WC: 169k Ch: 16/? Summary: “Let’s enjoy each others’ company. You’re fit; you’re young; you’re a bloody doctor. You’ve got everything going for you.” There’s a moment of hesitation before Louis plants a gentle kiss atop Harry’s head. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be as long as we’re having fun, yeah?” Drunk, loose, and excited on the first night of his two-week-long cruise, Doctor Harry Styles finds himself with a little extra company on what has turned out to be a lonely experience. Louis, the pilot who helped fly him across the Atlantic, is the object of his fling. Thus begins an adventure filled with laughter, sun, and trauma rearing its ugly head. Deadline on their companionship, the pair commit to enjoying their time - and Harry, the screw-up he is, can't help but lose himself in the fantasy.

[juniperwoodwell]

Dedication

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 |

Kylo Ren x F! Reader

Word count:5k

Warning(s): I'm not sure rn, proceed with caution I guess.

Summary:As a Captain in the First Order, Y/N has never been one to bring attention to herself unless it was commanding her squadron. What happens when a personal hobby make's her prey to one of the most feared men in the universe?

A/N 1: I'm so sorry this took so long to get out! I had a hard time writing these few week. This is only half edited because an hour ago my mom went to the hospital, but I wanted to get this out for you guys. I will edit it in the future! ❤️

A/n 2: Btw, I decided to try something else for splitting up the scenes , any words in bold red letters is the beginning of a new scene. Lmk if you like that better than the dots.

"You're right on time."

 The deep tone of his distorted voice sent shivers down her spine. She stared at the back of the mountainous man in front of her; swallowing her nervousness, she cleared her throat and stood beside him.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

Kylo turned his head slightly to analyze her momentarily, then looked back at his ship.          

"Why did you disobey direct orders?"

"I-I don't understand-"

"You snuck onto my ship while I was away and after hours."

Y/n bit her lip and sighed;

Well, might as well get this over with.

 "I know the risks, Sir, But the information I gathered was vital to my success. I don't want to disappoint you." Her last sentence was mumbled, admitting that hurt her pride.

Kylo hummed and nodded. "Well, since you disobeyed my orders, there will be a punishment." His tone darkened.

"I understand..." This was it; my desire to always succeed would be the end of me.

 "You will do a pre-test. No data pad, no notes."

 "What?" Her head snapped in his direction; she expected to be dead already.

"You heard me. Let's go."

 The inside of the Silencer was cramped, to begin with, but now it was almost suffocating.      

Kylo sat in the Pilots seat; his presence alone seemed to fill the tight space with a tense atmosphere. Y/n stood beside him so she could access the flight computer.

"I-Is this necessary, sir?"

 Kylo had his hands folded in his lap and nodded. "I need to see you doing it. It'd be useless if I were down there."

Y/n nodded, rolling up her sleeves. "I do suppose so, Sir."

"You may start."

Kylo's POV: (-Example- : Y/n's thoughts)

"You may start."

He watched as she crouched down and turned on the flight computer; no better option other than the floor, he supposed.

He didn't care if she got it right or wrong. He was too caught up in his thoughts;

She was certainly strange. She's always so anxious around me but still manages to back-talk me.

He closed his eyes as he began listening to her rushing mind. It brought some sense of calmness to his constantly overwhelmed one.

- Shit, If he knows about last night, what else does he know? Does he know about my mother? -

He opened his eyes and turned his head, looking at her profile. Her eyebrows were knitted as she worked on the computer.

Her mother? Does she mean her biological or stepmother?

"Your father isn't your biological father isn't that correct?" He asked, watching as she turned to him.

Shock etched into her attractive features. "How'd-"

"I did a background check on you when you requested this assignment."

"Oh, well...yeah. My mother divorced him and left us both. My bio father is unknown."

Kylo hummed. "Does that mean your father's wife is your stepmother?"

Y/n nodded, Turning back to the computer. "She's more of a mother to me than my real one."

"Oh? And why's that?" He smirked as he watched her physically tense up.

-Oh, Fuck.-

 "I...Well. My biological mother was hardly there for me growing up, and after she married Raife, my father. She only became more distant. Then divorced my father to join the new republic, and I haven't seen her since." She sighed. "My stepmother took me in as her own; she was super protective of me as a child and was against me joining the first order."

- Why am I spilling my secrets to him!?-

Kylo chuckled at her thoughts, though it came out as a distorted crackle, catching her attention. "Your mother joined the new republic?"

Y/n sighed,

-Too much information, dumbass. Way to dig your own grave. Again.-

" Yeah...She's some big-shot counselor now, but like I said. But as I said, I haven't seen her since the divorce- Oh, wait- Actually, that's a lie. She did try to reconnect a few years ago, tried to convince me not to join the first order, but I told her to politely fuck off."

Kylo sensed anger in her tone as she fiddled with the computer. "I see."

Silence filled the space; Kylo shut his eyes and listened to Y/n's mind, He searched for more information about her mother, but her mind was so filled with overwhelmed thoughts that it made it difficult to navigate. Kylo had never experienced such an active mind; It fascinated him.

The silence and his investigation were interrupted when a bang echoed in the cockpit, followed by a hissed-out curse.

"Fuck!"

 He opened his eyes to see Y/n standing now, rubbing her head. Frustrated by something,

 How is it that every time I'm one way, she manages to be the complete opposite? Like now, I'm the most relaxed I've been in weeks, and she's completely stressed out and frustrated.

"Are you alright?"

He asked suddenly. Startling them both, It's a very known fact that Kylo Ren is not one to care for others,

 "Y-Yeah, Sorry, Sir. Low ceilings."

He stared at her momentarily, an idea forming in his mind.

Y/n's POV:

This whole situation is bull- Why is he asking so many questions? Why this freaking Pre-Test as a punishment? Does he really need to be here? Why is he asking about my mother?

-ERROR: INCORRECT-

The screen showed those words in bright red lettering; she groaned softly.

This is stupid.

She ran her hands over her face and stood up. Too frustrated to remember the low ceilings,

"Fuck!" She cursed when her head collided with the durasteel ceiling.

 "Are you alright?" His voice startled her, making her gasp and turn to him.

"Y-yeah, Sorry, Sir. Low ceilings..." She was shocked by his sudden concern, but what happened next made her want to scream as if she'd just seen a ghost.

 Kylo grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto his lap; Her back faced him as she straddled his right thigh. Blush crept up her neck and face; she turned her head to look at him. Unsure of what to do.

"Does this help?" He asked,

"What?"

"Does this help? With how you were crouched, I could assume that was uncomfortable, making it difficult for you to focus." He spoke calmly as if what he'd just done hadn't almost caused her to have a heart attack.

 "O-Oh...Uh." She looked at the computer, the angle was better and would relieve stress from her ankles, but the warmth from Kylo's thigh made her believe crouching might be the safer option...

Y/n wasn't the most active woman in the world; she preferred to focus on her work over fulfilling any personal pleasures, Minus her Starship hobby. But this sudden contact with someone made her realize how touch-starved she was.

"Yes...It does help. Thank you, Sir." Kylo nodded, and she continued her work; in truth, being beside him earlier was nerve-wracking, but now sitting in his lap? Oh...It was worse. It was distracting and made it even more difficult to focus, especially when he'd move his foot, flexing his thigh. Or when he'd roll his shoulders, brushing his chest against her back, causing goosebumps on her exposed forearms. The proximity was becoming too much; she couldn't concentrate.

 Y/n sighed and shut off the flight computer, running a hand through her hair.

"What's the matter?"

Y/n looked over her shoulder, shrugging. Could she tell him that he was causing her to feel slightly turned on? No! Of course not! He's her boss...Technically. So she went with the half-truth, avoiding the embarrassing stuff.

"I've done this test sixteen times now; It's much more than I thought it would be. I can barely remember any of the small details; I'm practically guessing half of it." She sighed again, her shoulders slumped as she spoke, "I give up; I'm sorry, Sir." She began to stand up, but Kylo wrapped his arms tightly around her front and pulled her flush against him. They were so close she could hear his breathing, undistorted. It was calm.

 "You aren't allowed to give up, Capitan. You're here to prove that you are exactly as everyone says you are. You're constantly being praised for your piloting and engineering skills. You're apparently so good at what you do that the Supreme Leader permitted you to train a squadron of pilots from childhood, these children are orphans, and you're training them to be loyal to the first order by acting like a mother. Which is proving to work better than Hux's brainwashing method. It infuriates him; it's...very amusing for me."

He paused, his grip on her loosened slightly. Y/n was shivering; she wasn't cold, though...How could she be? Kylo radiated heat like a fire. It was from a combination of things, Fear, curiosity, surprise, and arousal. To name a few. He must have noticed this, she assumed, since his grip tightened and pulled her impossibly closer. "One little ship shouldn't be all that difficult for you." She sighed, nodding her head.

"I know.."

"Then why is it?"

She shrugged. "It's stressful; what you've asked me to do is...it's foreign to me. And you...Sir," She bit her lip to stop herself from digging herself a deeper grave. But he was persistent.

"Go on?"

 She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I-...I am afraid of you. Sir."

 "As you should be. But you aren't right now, are you?"

 She shook her head, "No, Sir."

 "Then what are you afraid of?"

"Honestly? Even though I am afraid of you most days, I have a lot of respect for you, and now that I have this assignment, I'm afraid of disappointing you and not meeting your expectations."

Kylo nodded, "I wouldn't have approved your assignment if I wasn't confident in your abilities. Unless...They're all lies, and you've somehow managed to fool everyone and are secretly a rebel spy?"

Y/n gasped, turning her head to gaze into the dark visor of his helmet. "I am NOT like my mother. I would never betray the First Order."

Kylo chuckled, "Good to know where your loyalties lie." Y/n could feel the vibrations of his distorted chuckle; she realized now that he was teasing her,

"Is this amusing to you?" She asked, turning her head to look out the windshield, crossing her arms over her chest, accentuation her breasts.

 Kylo inhaled sharply, covering it up by teasing her once again. "Yes, very much so. You're something else, Captain Seinar"

She huffed and absentmindedly rested her head against his shoulder. "I could say the same for you?"

"Oh? How so?"

"Well...for one. You haven't killed me yet like I've expected you to...Multiple times-" "I have no reason to." "But I've sassed you, talked back to you, disobeyed your orders. I was late, and you destroyed a hangar terminal. You have literally killed for less."

It was his turn to shrug. "...I didn't destroy the terminal because you were late. I apologize if I gave you that impression. Hux had informed me that they lost the location of the scavenger girl. You just happened to show up, and I needed an excuse." Y/n put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing. "Is this amusing for you?" His tone sounded playful as he mirrored her words from moments before.

She shook her head, but her expression betrayed her, unable to contain her smile.

 He chuckled. "To be honest, you are a valuable asset to the First Order. You've managed to make yourself indispensable. It'd be a waste to kill you."

"O-oh..."

"So, what else then?"

"Well...For instance," She lifted her hands to accentuate her point. "It's very out of character for you, sir."

 "Maybe for you and everyone else, it is."

 "What? Are you saying you're actually kind and considerate?"

 Kylo scoffed. "Not usually. But somehow, you've managed to bring out that side of me-" As he was about to finish his sentence, Y/n's watch beeped, indicating that the hour had finished. "You did well; I'll give you an extra hour tomorrow." Kylo let go and helped her stand. He lifted his hand above her head before she could bump against it again. "Thank you, sir."

When she returned to the lounge, the only one there was Miya; when she saw Y/n, she stood up and rushed over to her.

"Where the hell have you been?" She scolded.

 "Miya-"

"You missed lunch and dinner, and you're back late! We were worried Sick! "

"A lot happened. Can I explain in the morning? I'm exhausted."

 Miya signed, "Yeah, fine. But I want a full explanation."

"Yes, Ma'am," Y/n Yawned and trudged back to her room. She signed, "So many questions; why does he make everything so difficult." slowly, she peeled off her work clothes as her stomach grumbled. "Shit- I'm starving." She changed into something comfortable and then went out to the lounge.

 As she was scrounging around for a snack, a heavy knock echoed through the room; y/n gasped at the sound and then quickly opened the door to find a trooper standing there holding a black cafeteria plate with a matching lid.

"Captain Seinar?"

"Yes?"

"This is for you."

"Uh? Are you sure? Because I canceled my meal delivery."

 "Yes, Ma'am. But I was ordered to bring it to you."

"By who?"

"Kylo Ren, Ma'am,"

Y/n scoffed. Really?  "ah, alright. Thank you." She took the food back to her room and sat it on her desk. She crossed her arms and stored at it.

"Why in the world would he have someone bring me food? Is he sorry he made me skip dinner? This man, I swear. one minute he wants to slice me In half, and the next he's acting as though he's my friend or something" She shrugged and sat down at the desk. When she opened it, there was a note written on real paper; this surprised her because It was rare to see actual paper since everything has become mostly digital. It read,

You did well tonight. Meet me in the hangar right after dinner tomorrow. You'll do your two hours then. Enjoy this; You deserve it.

Y/n stared at the note in awe, "This man is not who people say he is. Goodness." Cautiously she began to eat the meal.

The next morning went suspiciously well. Y/n woke up before her alarm, made it to breakfast, and taught classes. It wasn't until after lunch that things started to go downhill. She had gone to her office to do paperwork; the office was the equivalent of a large closet.

 A knock on her office door startled her from the report she had been writing.

 "Come in."

The door slid open to reveal Kylo Ren. She stood up quickly, "O-Oh, Hello, Sir. How can I help you?"

"I need your help with a ship."

"Your silencer?"

 He shook his head slightly. "My command shuttle. Come, I'll explain more on the way."

She nodded and followed him out of the room. He explained what was wrong with the ship, and he took her to the hangar.

 Y/n placed her hands on her hips as she stared at the large ship.

"Huh..."

"What is it?"

"Oh- Uh. Sorry. I just assumed it'd be in worse shape. You have a reputation for destroying things when stuff is inconvenient to you."

"I chose to find you first."

"Ah."

Kesta came down from the ship when she saw Y/n; her eyes lit up.

"Oh, Good. You're here!"

 Y/n offered her a soft smile. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Of course, Though. We've practically torn the cockpit apart trying to figure out what's wrong with the damn thing. So watch your step."

"Thank you. I will." 

 Kesta was not kidding. There were wires hanging down from the ceiling. The control cover was taken off the dock and sat to the side. Wires were littered all over the floor as well. "Goodness..." She trudged her way through the mess and went over to the dock where the flight computer resided.

Y/n wasn't unfamiliar with the Upsilon class command shuttle. It had just been released the year she joined the first order, and when she did her engineer training, one of her tests was to program it. Her programming came in second to a punk who decided he'd steal her idea, which in turn made it look like she stole his.

 So in truth, this was her creation, but no one knew. She nodded to herself, then exited the ship,

"Well?" Kesta asked, walking up to Y/n.

"I think It's the wing retraction gear. When it starts up, does it make a high-pitched screeching?"

Kesta nodded.

"Then...Yeah, somethings wrong with the wing retraction."

"Would you mind taking a look at it?" The older woman asked; y/n internally groaned. This could take hours.

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll need some tools, though."

Two hours of screwing and unscrewing bolts, rewiring the wing retractor, and then having to do it again because she forgot that it needed to be wired to a different input. Kylo had left as soon as she got her tools, and Kesta left after that.

Tiredly y/n sat at the bottom of the ramp on the ship; she wiped her forehead as she sighed. A shadow eclipsed her, and she looked up to find Kylo looming over her. Quickly she stood up, almost stumbling forward into him. Catching her balance, she spoke,

 "I-I wasn't slacking, Sir."

 The new familiar crackle sounded softly between the two. "No. I didn't think you were."

 "Ah. Well- Is there anything I can help you with?"

He shook his head slightly. "Is it fixed?"

 Y/n looked over her shoulder and nodded. "Yes, Sir."

 "Good. You may go."

She looked at him confused but then shook her head. "Yes, Sir."

Before she could walk passed him, he grabbed her arm, Wo- Deja Vu. "Do not worry about Hux's order. Continue the way you have been."

 She looked into the dark visor with an uncertain expression. "Are you saying that just because it would only piss him off more?"

 "Yes. But also because I meant what I said. It works." She looked away and nodded; before He let go of her arm,

He said, "Go to the infirmary."

 "For what?" She asked; he tilted his down, and she followed his gaze. Her dark grey shirt was stained a deep red on her side. "Oh- Wow. I didn't even feel that."

"Obviously."

She glared at him. "Thank you for noticing. I'll go now." He nodded and let her go.

"Are you kidding me?" A short, blonde-haired woman in a white doctor's coat walked up to Y/n as she entered the infirmary. "I swear, You're here every week, Y/n. What'd you do this time?"

"Hi, Sara...I was fixing Kylo Ren's command shuttle and must have cut myself. Not sure how it happened."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Must have is an understatement." She said as she slightly lifted up the hem of Y/n's shirt. "Come on. I'll fix you up."

"Thank you-"

"You'll be paying me."

Y/n laughed softly and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, don't worry."

Sara lead Y/n to a bed and closed the curtain. "Are you doing alright?"

 "What do you mean?"

 "I mean, You're the center of everyone's gossip recently."

"Because of my new assignment?" Sara nodded as she disinfected the small but deep gash in Y/n's side; Y/n gritted her teeth, "Y-yeah. It's...complicated. At least I'm not dead yet." She joked, earning a glare from Sara. "Sorry- It's nothing though. Just lots and lots of studying." The doctor hummed as she began to stitch up the wound, causing Y/n to grasp the firm mattress.

"...You must not know then."

"K-know what?"

 "There's a rumor growing around that you're screwing him. Especially since last night."

 "...last night?"

"Yeah, One of the engineers told me he saw the two of you inside his ship." Y/n groaned. "Is it true?"

"No, of course, it's not Sara. He found out I snuck onto his ship while he was gone and made me do a pre-test as punishment. He had to be there to observe my progress."

"But did you need to be sitting in his lap?"

"How much did this engineer see!?" Y/n exclaimed, wailing her arms around; Sara glared at her. "Sorry.."

"He saw enough to spread some nasty rumors." Y/n sighed and began to explain everything to Sara from the beginning, and by the time she was done, Sara had finished stitching and bandaging her side.

"Are you sure you can handle this?"

"I...I'm not sure. Tomorrow is test day, and I don't think I'm going to succeed; I'm too far in to back out now. This might be the last time we see each other."

 "I want to say don't be so dramatic, Y/n...But who knows what he'll do to you if you fail."

 Y/n scratched her head. "Yeah... I know."

"How are your nightmares?"

 "Oh-...Good." Sara knew she was lying but didn't persist. They knew each other well enough.

"Okay, You're all set." The women stood and exited the area; a few of the nurses looked at Y/n harshly. She avoided their gazes, and Sara walked her to the door. "Just be careful. Rumors like these...They grow legs."

"I know. Thank you. I'll send you the money tonight."

It seemed as though everyone's eyes were now on her as she made her way through the long tiring halls. Checking the time, she decided she could change out of her stained shirt and then go teach her flight lesson.

Walking into the lounge, she bumped into Callisto,

"Hey! Where have you been?"

"I'll tell you later, Cal. I gotta change and go to my next class."

 "Wait- No. Hang on. Is that blood?"

"yeah, It's nothing. I'll be fine."

"Did he do that to you?"

"Who?"

 "Kylo Ren."

"What? No. I cut myself while fixing a ship."

Callisto sighed. "I swear-"

"Cal. He didn't do anything. Now I have to go."

"Fine. But you're coming to dinner, right?"

She didn't give him an answer as she went to her room.

"Captain!" Dante's voice alerted the woman as she wrote down a report on her data pad.

"Yes, Dante?"

 "General Hux wants to see you. He said for you to go to his office in the command center."

"Now?" Dante nodded. "Okay."

Quickly she gathered her small group and told them they could go back to their dorms and that the training was canceled.

 Nervous didn't even begin to cover what she was feeling the moment she stepped through the command center's doors.

Cautiously she knocked on Hux's door.

"Come in."

Taking a deep breath, she stepped into his office.

 "You asked for me, Sir?"

"Yes. Take a seat." She nodded and sat down in a chair across from his desk. "Is your assignment going well?" He asked as he linked his hands together on his desk and leaned forward.

"Yes, Sir." She kept her expressions blank.

"I was informed that you snuck onto the Silencer after hours. Is this true?"

 Shit. She nodded, "Yes, Sir."

"Why?"

"Because I needed more information."

 "I was also told that you stole a copy of the ship's programming. Is this true?"

 "Y-Yes...Sir."

Hux hummed and sat back in his seat. "I respect you and your reputation Captain. But this is something I can not allow to pass. You will be completely suspended for five weeks, Along with your personal project."

 "Which one, Sir?"

"Your squadron." he paused as he glared harshly, making her want to crawl away and hide. "If you choose to do such things again, I will have you fired and your squadron terminated."

 "But you can't-"

"You're dismissed." biting her tongue, she stood and left.  

                                                                         When she exited the control center,  she got lost in her thoughts.

How could he have known? Did Kylo tell him? Maybe Cal's right. He is just toying with me.

She was stopped in her tracks by a firm hand grasping her shoulder; she turned to see one of the Knights of Ren. Cardo, she believed.

"Captain Seinar."

 "Y-yes, sir?" She turned to face him as he let her go.

"Kylo Ren has ordered me to find you and bring you to him."

 "O-Oh. Alright."

 Anger slowly started to boil in her bones as they made their way to where every Kylo was.   

The room they arrived in seemed like a recreation room. She noticed how the other five knights were there and turned to her as she entered. Cardo continued to walk through the room to another in the back; Y/n kept her head down as she followed him.

Kylo Ren stood in Infront of a large Transparasteel window that looked out into the vast expanse of space.

"Here she is."

 Kylo nodded and waved him off. Cardo left the room, closing the door behind him.

 Y/n stared daggers into the back of his helmet, her fists clenched tight by her side.

 "Is something the matter?" His voice bounced off the walls.

"All that shit you told me yesterday was just a fucking lie. Wasn't it? You've been trying to ruin my life from the moment I requested to look at your damned ship."

"I do not know what you mean." He turned around to face her.

"Bullshit! You have changed my schedule twice already, stressed me out beyond compare, and told Hux that I took a copy of the ship's programming plus that I snuck on board after hours!" Her strides were quick as she made her way over to him, and her chest was heaving. She stared up at him, face red with anger.

 "I did no such thing."

 "Liar! He's suspended me for over a month and my squadron as well. He told me if I slip up again, he'll fire me and that he'd terminate my squadron. You can't fucking handle someone being better than you at something, can you!? You're getting exactly what you wanted!" She yelled colorfully.

 Kylo took a step in, their chests brushing against each other. His voice was low as he spoke,

"Watch it."

 She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "what're you gonna do? Kill me? Please, that'd be a mercy."

He chuckled darkly. "That mouth of yours...It could get you in some serious trouble." He grabbed her arm and slammed her against the nearest wall, caging her in. Her anger was washed away in an instant, and fear now occupied her mind.

"Come now, where's all that fire?" She took in a shaky breath, "What's wrong? Are you scared I may actually kill you?" She looked away, but he grabbed her chin, holding her in place. "I meant every word I said to you. I would never jeopardize your position; I know how hard you've worked for it."

 "But-"

"I did not tell Hux what you did. That was between us, and It does not involve him." He sighed as he noticed the fearful look in her eyes. He let go of her chin; she seemed to relax some, but her mind continued to rush. "He has no proper authority to fire you or terminate your squadron, and if he tries, I will intervene."

"Why?" Her voice was soft and quiet.

"Because, as I've said, you're a valuable asset to the First Order. It'd be foolish to do away with you."

She nodded, biting her lip. "I'm sorry for practically screaming at you. It wasn't fair of me to assume you did those things without asking you."

"You're very good at that."

 "At what? Assuming things?"

 "No- Owning up to your mistakes."

 Y/n looked down at her feet, but Kylo lifted her chin with his thumb. "This brings up a problem, though."

 "...And that is? Sir."

 "We possibly have a snitch." He let her go and pulled away, turning to the window.

 Quickly she controlled her breathing and stood beside him.

"Did you tell anyone?"

 Y/n had to think for a moment; she gasped when a name flashed through her mind.

 Callisto.

 "I-...Yes. My best friend. Special Forces Pilot Timothy Callisto, but he goes by Cal." She turned her head to look at Kylo, and he did the same. Her eyes were filled with worry and desperation. "He wouldn't..."

"It's a possibility."

"But-...We've been friends since the academy. He wouldn't betray me."

 "You put too much faith into people."

She scoffed. "How would you know."

 "I just do."

 They stood there quietly for a while.

"What did you want me for, sir?"

He let her question linger as he turned away from the window and took a seat at the table that sat to the side of the room. "Join me." He said, motioning to the seat in Infront of him. Sitting down, she fiddled with her hands, suddenly anxious.

"I would like for you to join my division."

"Like the knights?"

He shook his head. "No. Like as my second in command, as in...Being my wingman and Captain."

She looked at him in disbelief. "I-...sorry. What?" she tilted her head slightly. "Why?" she asked.

"Because someone with your skills deserves to work with people of your same standard."

"Are you saying that my friends in the special forces aren't of my standard" Her tone had an edge to it as she spoke.

 "That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean then."

"The special forces are the best of the best when it comes to the first order. But you, you're something-" His words are interrupted by the door opening.

 "Apologies, Sir. But you're being summoned to the supremacy." One of the knights spoke. Kylo turned his head to the knight and then back to Y/n.

"Thank you, Ap'lek." The knight: Ap'lek. Nodded and closed the door.

 Kylo stood, offering his hand to her. "Think about my offer." His voice sounded soft behind the mask, but she thought she had just imagined it; sighing, she took his hand and stood.

"Thank you, Sir. Do you know if you'll be back in time?"

Kylo hummed, looking down at her hand that was still in his own. "I am...unsure. If I am not. I will have Ap'lek accompany you."

Y/n froze, and her hand subconsciously gripped his. She stared into the visor, anxiety etched in her features.

"Is something wrong?"

She gulped and shook her head. When she went to pull her hand away, he grabbed it tightly,

"Do not lie to me." His commanding tone made her look away,

 "...I'd prefer not to do it at all than have to do it without you." her confession surprised them both. "I-I mean the ship, of course; I...I'm just used to you now. It'd be awkward with anyone else." She explained.

 A static crackle echoed off the walls. He was laughing at her. She met where she assumed his eyes were and rolled her own, a smirk on her lips.

"You should go. Don't want to make the supreme leader angry."

 "How would you know it's the supreme leader?" He asked teasingly,

 "Why else would you go to the big man's ship?" Another crackle and a nod from Kylo.

"You are right, though. I should. I will try to be back before our scheduled time, but if I'm not. Don't worry too much. Ap'lek is a man of few words, and he's the...Nicest. I suppose, but he'd deny it. He's just polite." Y/n nodded,

"I understand. Thank you, Sir. Good luck." She offered him a smile, and he gently squeezed her hand before letting go and leaving the room.

Tag list:

@kylowritten

@capitanostella

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 15]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, softdom!seungcheol, blowjob, cum swallowing, restraints/blindfold, daddy!kink, dirty talk, v little hair pulling, orgasm control, squirting, sex toys 😗💕 hope y’all are having a good weekend! As you can see, with this chapter comes the decided amount of chapters 😭 which means! cherry bomb ends on jan. 1st! 😭😭😭 I’m sad about it but!! excited to start the new year with some new projects too!! and I promise it won't be the last of this au either (I'll upload and talk abt a new schedule when it gets closer to time)💕💕 Thank you, as always, for your support with Cherry Bomb and I’m glad some of us have had pavlovian responses when we hear the term now LOOOL😩💕 Enjoy ch15 and have a great weekend! see u tomorrow for the last intro post! 💕🍒 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - x - x - x - x - x 

Seungcheol takes it as a blessing that he doesn’t work on the weekends.

You do your camshow on Friday and upload prerecorded content on Saturday which leaves two whole days of relaxation that the two of you enjoy.

But Monday comes quicker than you anticipate and Seungcheol drops you off to work before he heads back to the roller rink; ignoring the multitudes of texts it seems Jeongguk is sending.

I’ll be at work in 30 minutes, he thinks.

“I’ll be back to pick you up after work, baby!”

You nod back, blowing Seungcheol a kiss through the window before you turn to leave.

Seungcheol’s phone rings 3 more times, brows furrowed.

‘It can wait.’

“Hyung, we’re in trouble… Maybe?”

Jeongguk’s big puppy eyes stare back at the older male and he can already feel the blood draining from his face at the potential reasons that the younger male would even say that. “Um… is---is this pertaining to why you tried calling like 14 times?” Jeongguk nods, tugging on Seungcheol’s shirt and pulling him in closer.

“Before you say anything… Namjoon-hyung didn’t find out, did he?”

“Find out about what?”

“That I… cam… I don’t want to get fired because I--”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, “Listen, I’m gonna be real, I don’t think he cares. The problem is… remember that dude that came in? A couple weeks ago. Lookin’ for a job.”

Seungcheol nods slowly; trying to remember the male’s name. “Seok--something, right?” Jeongguk nods.

“Apparently, he came back, and at the right time too. Namjoon hired his ass on the spot and he starts tomorrow. I heard from Seokjin.” Confusion crosses Seungcheol’s features as he stares and waits for Jeongguk to continue. “... And? How is that trouble for us?”

Jeongguk lets out an over dramatic sigh, hands on Seungcheol’s shoulders. “Nevermind, I forgot you’re making bank on those videos. I was gonna say, we might get a pay cut! Or maybe Joon-hyung’s trying to replace us but I guess that’s not a ‘you’ problem.”

Seungcheol laughs under his breath, shaking his head before patting Jeongguk’s hands.

“You’ll be okay. I don’t think anyone is coming for your concession stand job.”

The next day when Seungcheol makes it to work, he can’t help but have a weird feeling in his gut.

Much like the time when he first met Jun, there’s an indescribable feeling bubbling up in his body that he can’t seem to shake off once he arrives at the roller rink and the sight of Jeongguk with the new employee doesn’t help to settle the feeling at all.

Just before he can make his escape, the younger male waves him over; a cheery smile plastered on his face when Seungcheol starts walking over.

“Hyung! It’s the new employee!”

So much for panicking about being replaced, Jeongguk.

Seungcheol smiles at the other male, introducing himself swiftly before extending a hand to shake. “Ah! I remember you! I’m Seokmin! I’m the same age as Jeongguk!” Seungcheol’s lips part as he nods in understanding; that had been why Jeongguk seemed so okay with it all of a sudden.

Seokmin’s eyes form crescents when he smiles and Seungcheol takes a second to do a once over of the other male; noting the pins tacked to his denim jacket. His eyes hone in on a specific one, narrowing once he realized what it was.

It’d been a while ago now, but when you’d hit 5k subscribers to your camming channel, you had made only three of the same pin, which you had raffled and only gave to three winners.

By nature, Seungcheol was one of them, and the other two were ‘xcaliburDK’ and ‘gentleman_josh95’. Seungcheol could deduce from usernames alone that this wasn’t ‘Josh’ so it only left one option left; albeit Seokmin didn’t add up to the username either.

“Hyung? Hyung, are you okay? You’re spacing out.” Jeongguk waves a hand in the elder’s face as Seungcheol shakes himself from his thoughts.

He’d just have to figure it out later.

Although, he can already feel the groan spilling from his lips.

Why was everyone popping up now?

When he picks you up from work, later that afternoon, he can already tell something is off about you too.

You slink into the passenger’s seat of his car, quiet and a little jittery. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He comments, watching as you fumble with the seatbelt.

“Yeah it’s just… Can we talk about it when we get home? I think I’m still recovering from the weird experience I had earlier.”

Nodding, Seungcheol reaches over, placing his palm in yours in a means of comforting you; even just a little.

“Guess we both have had weird days, huh?”

You can’t thank Seungcheol enough for how patient he is.

He doesn’t say a word in the car and lets you have your quiet, cool down time before you get home.

But when the lock slides into place and you finally plop down onto the bed, you know it’s finally time to have the talk that you knew was brewing.

“I met another one of my regulars at the diner today.” You mumble; beating Seungcheol to the punch of him asking.

“Weird, I think I ran into one of your regulars at the roller rink today too. He works there now, by the way.”

The two of you share an awkward laugh as Seungcheol lays down next to you; neither of you bothering to change out of your outside clothes as you bask in the oddly similar occurrences. “Wouldn’t happen to be ‘universe_WZ’ would it? He came by the diner earlier, ‘just passing through town’ he said. It was so weird though, y’know? Him and Jun kinda got along ‘cause apparently they’re born in the same year.” You smile at the memory, despite how odd it was at first. “He was quiet and Jun is very much not. I think he bailed earlier than he wanted ‘cause his ear was getting talked off. But he asked me for an autograph on the way out and some old lady stared at me. It was just… a little weird.”

Seungcheol laughs; somewhat glad that your experience hadn’t been as bad as he was expecting.

“How ‘bout you, ‘Cheol? What was that about him working with you?”

The male groans, sliding a hand down his features. “It was… somethin’ else.” You turn on your side to face him, raising a brow.

“Couldn’t be that bad, could it?”

Seungcheol laughs, but only in the way he knows that the next words out of his mouth will sound ridiculous, even to you.

“I’m not going to say who it is because I don’t want you to be extra weirded out. He’s an okay guy, very diligent about his work. But let’s just say I caught a glimpse of his wallpaper, which was you by the way. And when I asked him, ‘hey, is that your girlfriend?’, the fucker lied and said yes!”

It takes a second before you’re letting out a boisterous laugh; tears springing to your eyes at the hilarious encounter Seungcheol had experienced.

“You’re not mad!?” He comments, eyes wide as saucers as he watches you curl up in laughter. “I thought you’d be mad!” You wipe a tear from your eye, catching your breath before you turn back to Seungcheol who watches you in confusion.

“No way, that’s fuckin’ hilarious! And let’s be real, probably not the first time someone’s lied about me being their girlfriend, right? But I--he doesn’t know, does he? That you’re… y’know, ‘dom.cheol’?” Seungcheol blushes, cheeks blooming a pale pink when he thinks about it.

Would his voice be enough to give it away?

“I don’t… know? He didn’t say anything but neither did I, honestly. It was just… weird. And now I work with him so that’ll be fun. Can’t wait for him to tell me how cute his girlfriend is.” He grumbles.

“Awww, is widdol Swungcheol jealous?” You blink cutely back at him; a teasing smirk on your lips when you see him narrowing his eyes back at you.

“Watch it, brat. You know I can punish you at any time, right?”

“Try me, then~”

Seungcheol mentally logs into his brain and waits until your Wednesday show before he makes a move.

He brings his favorite silk ties from his closet and places them on the bed while you get changed; a sly smirk on his face.

“‘Okay, ‘Cheol I’m--whoa.” You bite your lip when you step out and see the array of ties and the vibrator already sitting on the bed. “Um… I take it that these are part of the show tonight?” You end with a shy giggle; body already warm at the way Seungcheol looks at you.

“Mmhmm. For the ‘lil jealous comment you made. What was it that you said? ‘Try me, then’?” He grins in a way that you know you’re screwed and you saunter up to him in hopes of maybe pacifying him a little.

“Too late to say that I take it back?”

“Waaaay too late, baby. Now, let’s get started.”

chwenon has donated $50

sleepy_wonu has donated $100

artist8hao has donated $75

artist8hao: she’s so pretty with her hands tied behind her back like that

angelhan: shibari next time???

universe_WZ: she’d be so pretty all tied up

universe_WZ: rly nice seeing u btw ;)

therealchan99: where tf are all of u seeing her!?!?? I need to go out more im lackin bro

alphagyu97: its the way u walk into every set up for me

Seungcheol chuckles under his breath, reading the comments with his hand tangled in your hair and your arms tied behind your back as you work your mouth up and down on his cock.

Before the show had even started, he had quickly rearranged the setup so that the camera was angled down towards the space in front of the bed instead of where it usually faced which was on top of the bed. You were a little confused at first when he had nodded and told you to start your camshow from the rug placed underneath you but it soon made sense when he had tied your arms behind your back and made you suck him off with your knees digging into the rug and a silk tie tied into a bow around your eyes to prevent you from seeing.

“Shibari, huh? Ooh, wouldn’t it be a treat for your viewers if you did a show where you were all tied up? I’d have to start it for you, or maybe they’d like to watch the process and see how quickly I can get you to fall apart.” Seungcheol pauses; hips canting up slightly into your mouth as you swallow and gag around him. “We can make it an extra long camshow… Maybe a pay-per-view situation. They can watch you squirm and cum all night long while I keep a vibrator pressed against your clit until your cute body is trembling.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head even if Seungcheol can’t see it and you moan around his cock when you feel him throbbing in your mouth.

The sound of donations and comments is all you can go off of with your back towards the camera and your vision taken away; noting that the viewers must’ve liked the idea.

j__min has donated $150

j__min: popping in to say if u need help buying ropes, i know a guy ;)

alphagyu97: wait is this rly happening

alphagyu97: i’ll clear my schedule gentleman_josh95: yea same

xcaliburDK: i just started a new job i cant have any sick days plz… at least reupload it for me 😭😭

Seungcheol smirks when he reads that particular comment; fingertips massaging your skull when he hears you whining. “I know, baby. You wanna be fucked, huh? It isn’t nice being teased, right? So now you know how I feel~” In a blink of an eye, ‘xcaliburDK’s comment is buried and Seungcheol is thankful that you didn’t see it. He’d just have to keep it a secret for now while he played along and listened to what else Seokmin had to say about his so-called ‘girlfriend’.

You rub your thighs together; already feeling the slickness on them from how wet you already were and how long you’d been teasing and sucking his cock.

“Fuck, I could cum down your pretty ‘lil throat and then make you work for my cock. Drag your punishment out even longer than your viewers would see.” You moan around his cock in response and Seungcheol can only take it as a whiny ‘no’ before he’s pulling you off of him by the hair; soft sputters and coughs spilling from your wet lips as you catch your breath.

“But I think you’ve earned your orgasm, hmm? What do you say, princess?”

Your throat feels hoarse and your body feel obscenely hot at the way Seungcheol doesn’t seem to want to take off your restraints just yet. “Y-yes, daddy I--I want to c-cum… pl--please.”

tangerine_kwan: ahhh shes so cute

tangerine_kwan: petition for baby pink ties next time i think they suit her

sleepy_wonu: if that shibari show is happening, yes

“We’ll talk about it later, although I don’t think she’ll be opposed to it~” You furrow your brows; wondering what Seungcheok was referring to. 

You’d ask later.

“D-daddy…?”

Seungcheol tugs you slightly by your hair, urging you up as you slowly stand on shaky legs. You let him take the reins as he unties your arms and repositions you until you’re bent over the edge of the bed; left leg folded atop the bedsheets while your right leg keeps you upright. He keeps your blindfold on but lets you keep your arms loose; which you find out fairly quickly, is for good reason.

The buzzing of the vibrator makes you bite your bottom lip and soon enough, Seungcheol places the toy in your clammy hand.

“You’re gonna slide your hand under your body and keep that vibrator pressed against your clit while I fuck you. And you’re not allowed to cum unless I say so. Am I understood, baby?” You feel Seungcheol teasing you as he slides his cock through your soaking folds before circling the tip around your entrance.

“I expect a response when I ask you a question, sweetheart.”

“Y--yes, daddy, I--ah!”

Seungcheol grins as he slides his cock into your tight cunt; watching as you slowly sandwich your arm between your body and the bed sheets to place the vibrator against your clit. You cry out, a mess of sharp whines and jumbled words spilling off your lips with the combination of Seungcheol’s thrusts and the vibrations on your clit.

“Ngh, d--daddy! Fuck me m-more!”

Your other hand digs into the sheets, fingers tight around the fabric as Seungcheol fucks you from behind. He knows your body like the back of his hand and he quickly already has you on the verge of an orgasm despite only having started fucking you, moments prior.

“Don’t cum, princess~” Teasingly, he alternates from quick snaps of his hips that have his cock slamming into your g-spot to slow thrusts that have you remembering every groove and vein of his cock when he pulls out. And when he fucks you like this, it’s easy to forget the camera was even on and that people were watching; if not for the constant pinging of comments and donations that mix in with your moans, Seungcheol’s harsh breaths and the sound of the vibrator against your clit.

hoshi_tiger_xx: hmm but shes obv being punished and we all kno good girls dont get creampies

therealchan99: ur right,,, where should he cum then?

kitty_junjun: my votes on her tits

kitty_junjun has donated $75

sleepy_wonu: maybe all over her back and then post the pics in the private room

xcaliburDK: or raffle them!! I want them

chwenon: ooo cum in her mouth but dont let her swallow

chwenon: then u can raffle those pics or sth

Neither you nor Seungcheol are even paying attention to the comments that fly past on the screen and the only thing Seungcheol even turns slightly for, is to check to make sure he’s still properly out of frame.

He can already feel you tightening up around him and with the vibrator on your clit, he knows for a fact you won’t last much longer before you’re cumming.

“Hmm, princess, I can feel you getting so tight around me. Bet you wanna cum already, huh?”

“D-daddy, I dunno, ah, how--how much longer I can h-hold off…” You mumble; already feeling the tension in your body ready to snap at any second.

“Be a good girl. I said you earned your orgasm but you need to be patient.” You nod to the best of your ability; head feeling heavy and fuzzy as you try to stave off your orgasm for a little longer. “Y--yes, daddy…” He slows down his thrusts in order to help you a little and the soft praises that fall from his lips have the warmth blooming in your chest.

But it doesn’t last long because despite Seungcheol’s valiant efforts, you’re already too close to cumming to stop yourself when you feel the pressure building up too fast.

“Oh, d-daddy, I---I can’t, I---I can’t, I have, ah, to---to c-cum! Fuh--fuck, ‘m s--sorry!”

Seungcheol can’t even manage a word in before he feels his cock being forced out of your pussy and the wetness that squirts all over his cock and lower half. Loud cries and whines are all you can manage in the thrums of pleasure and the grip you have on the vibrator only tightens as you grind against the toy to ride out your high.

Seungcheol takes the time to wrap a hand around his cock as he strokes himself; body turned halfway towards the laptop to see what everyone was saying.

hoshi_tiger_xx: uh ohhh pretty baby came without permission

hoshi_tiger_xx has donated $50

hoshi_tiger_xx: donation for squirting tho

alphagyu97: ugh look at her cute lil hole begging to be filled up

angelhan: bet she’s feeling empty rn huh

Your soft mewls have Seungcheol turning back to face you; eyes trained on your twitching body when the pleasure starts to ebb away and the overstimulation from the vibrator starts to bite. “Daddy… the---the, mmh, toy…”

“You can turn it off, sweetheart.” His tone is clipped and you already know you’re in for it once you manage to find the switch on the silicone toy. You turn it off and slide your hand from underneath you; palms flat against the sheets as you sniffle.

“I--I’m really s-sorry, I--I couldn’t--”

“I want you on your knees again, princess.”

Nodding shakily, you ease your bent leg down as you maneuver yourself onto your knees; hands already searching for Seungcheol before you hear his small ‘ah, ah, ah’s.  “Hands behind your back and tongue out, baby.” You follow his orders as you clasp your hands behind your back and diligently open your mouth and stick your tongue out as far as you can.

He brings his cock towards your face, tapping his cock head against your tongue before he starts to jerk himself off over your mouth and face. “I gotta hand it to you, princess. At least you apologized.” Seungcheol laughs under his breath, “But next time though? I won’t even let you have my cock.”

You whimper in return, brows furrowed under the silk tie.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum all over this pretty face.” His grip on his cock tightens and he thrusts into his palm quicker as he chases his high. “Don’t worry. I’ll take pretty pictures of your cum stained face.”

Seungcheol groans as he feels the coil in his body snapping and not a second later do you feel warm rivulets of cum hitting your cheeks and your tongue. Some of it manages to catch on the silk tie as you moan. The donations and comments pour in like water as Seungcheol continues to cover your face in cum and for the umpteeth time, you’re reassured that this was a path that worked out for you.

It was so silly that you’d thought of quitting camming earlier. 

Although, you never brought it up to Seungcheol.

In actuality, there were quite a few things that you’d never brought up to Seungcheol.

“Fuck…” He mutters from above you and it’s enough to bring you out of your thoughts as you hold still. Seungcheol takes the hint, using a sticky cum covered hand to reach for his phone to snap pictures of you; he’d just clean it up later.

“Say cheese~” He laughs, taking a couple photos before tossing his phone onto the bed as you draw your tongue back into your mouth and swallow down the warm salty substance that managed to hit your tongue.

Seungcheol helps you up from the floor, pouting when he sees how red your knees have gotten. “Hmm, think I need to take care of my princess after this.” He helps take your blindfold off and you’re quick to blink the fogginess away as  you try to focus on Seungcheol’s face before peering over to the laptop’s screen.

Your cheeks burn hot at the cum that still stains your cheeks when you see  yourself but the comments that flood in calling you pretty make you giggle.

“Ooookay. I think daddy is gonna get all cleaned up and I’ll wrap up here?” You check in with Seungcheol, who shoots you a nod and a small thumbs up before slinking completely out of the camera’s view.

“Okay guys, now what were you all talking about while I was on my knees?”

You get out of the shower feeling refreshed; tossing on a loose shirt before skipping out of the bathroom.

Seungcheol is cozied up on the sofa, waiting on the food that the two of you had ordered right after you ended your show. “‘Cheollie~” He turns to you as you plop down next to him and he’s quick to wrap an arm around your shoulders as he tugs you into his side.

“Feeling better?”

“Mmhmm~ A ‘lil sleepy but I can go for that food and then sleep.”

The two of you share a laugh, eyes focused on the movie that plays on the TV. “Say…” You start, “Someone asked a good question in the comments after you stepped out.” You gulp; palms a little clammy.

You just had to know.

“Yeah? Was it about the shibari camshow again?”

“No, actually…” You take a deep breath, telling yourself it’d be okay regardless of what he said.

“Seungcheol, am I your girlfriend?”

[scullydubois]

Only the Light: Ch. 15

15/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: Anasazi/The Blessing Way | T | 5k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic <3

After shooting Mulder to prevent him from implicating himself in his father's murder, Scully takes Mulder & Melissa on a road trip to Albert Hosteen's Navajo reservation in New Mexico.

TW for mentions of guns/shooting, death, funerals

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

His eyes flutter open to some place like Heaven, which pisses him off cause that’s not supposed to exist, and if it does, then how in the hell did he make it here? A fiery-haired angel lays a gilded hand upon his chest, her touch made out of air. Tendrils of hair fall against her face, and Mulder wonders where one gets haircuts in Heaven. 

He must be floating on a cloud, so close to the sun that it is stained an earthly golden-yellow. His sky accommodation is not as comfortable as all those Renaissance painters made it look, and for that he feels deceived. Is the soul so solid that it is weighed down, even in Heaven? And if it is, well, doesn’t that defeat the purpose of a soul?

He is fatigued, and it’s bullshit, in his opinion, that he could be dead and still feel anything but blissful numbness. He’s about to voice this particular grievance when he realizes where he is, and sure English is turning into a lingua franca of sorts, but something tells him that God isn’t spending his spare time teaching the angels the difference between too and to. So he keeps his mouth shut, unnerved by not knowing whether he’ll ever be able to speak his mind again. 

“Hey,” a soft voice breathes, and he’s surprised to understand it, but not altogether upset. He tries to respond, but his tongue has tethered itself to the base of his mouth.

“Mulder…” the voice says, and it registers in his mind that it’s not an angel--not technically--but Dana Katherine Scully, and my god, what atrocity has dared to send her to Heaven so damn soon? 

He coughs, then grumbles from deep in his throat. He’s got to be the most undignified person in this joint, and he can only hope his welcome dinner with God isn’t anytime soon. The angel’s hand that is actually his partner’s drifts over his forelock, her fingers guiding his hair back into its part. 

“Mulder, can you hear me?”

He nods, hungry for some sense of things.

“You were shot, Mulder. By me. Because you were acting very stupid.”

She killed him?!? Maybe he shouldn’t be so shocked by this, but he can’t help himself. And she’s here too, so how did that happen? Murder-suicide?

Her hand sweeps his shoulder, and he looks down to see the space where her bullet must have pierced him. Patched up right above his heart. He didn’t expect to carry wounds into the afterlife.

Her eyes meet his, blue as ever. “I’ve been taking care of you, and you’ll be just fine.”

His lips form an O, but no sound follows. 

“Let me get you some water.” Scully disappears from his line of sight, and he realizes that his cloud has a roof and an open door. You can’t see those from the ground.

Scully returns with a plastic water bottle. Deer Park, to be exact--another thing he didn’t expect to find in Heaven. She holds it to his lips, tilting the liquid gently into his mouth. He revels in it, vitality slowly being returned to him.

At last, his tongue functions as it should. “Where are we, Scully?” he asks, his voice creaky. He’s beginning to think it’s not Heaven after all, but the back of his partner’s Chevy. Which feels about as equally likely, if he’s honest.

“At a gas station In Texas, about two miles off I-40,” she answers, twisting the cap back on the bottle. “We’re headed to a Navajo reservation in New Mexico.”

Met with the realization that his life is not, in fact, over, Mulder tries to piece together the last moments he can remember. He squints, the sun outside the vehicle colliding with the darkness in his brain. He remembers a fever and a bed that was not his. 

“Did I sleep in your bed?” he asks, fairly confident that more important things before and after have slipped his mind.

“You did indeed,” Scully replies. And before he can get to it--”Melissa and I shared.”

“Ah.” He pushes himself up, every muscle in his arms rebelling. 

Scully pats his shoulder. “You should stay reclined.”

“I’m like a whale in a fish bowl back here,” he protests. And he’s not wrong, Scully knows this. To fit him in, she leaned his head against the driver’s side windowsill and let his bare feet push against the passenger side door, then said a silent prayer that there would be no potholes. 

“Why can’t I come up front?” he whines. “I’ll lean the seat back.”

“Because Missy’s sitting there.”

Mulder glances into the front, his expectations of privacy shattered. Still, an empty passenger’s seat meets his gaze. “Well, where is she then?” he pesters, more pointed than intended.

Scully chuckles. You can put a hole in the man’s chest, but you can’t take the restlessness out of him. “She’s inside getting snacks.” Scully smiles at her partner, fondness flowing out in a way she rarely lets it. He’s been out for a couple days now--and while she was closely monitoring him and knew he was okay--she’s so glad that he has come back to her. “Do you want sunflower seeds?” she asks with a sparkle in her eyes.

He nods. “Sp--”

“Spitz.” The moments that have gotten them there, that have indebted her with that knowledge, flash through her mind. “I know.”

And it feels almost prophetic, to Mulder, that she does.

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

The plains of North Texas roll past them, headlights and moonlight meeting in a demure embrace. The two-lane road bears a great resemblance to many they’ve gone down in days past. There’s no one else in sight. 

Mulder has been relieved of his back seat duties, taking Melissa’s place at the passenger side so she could get some sleep. He’s slipped on the shirt Scully swiped from his apartment, a Knicks 1990 tee that she must have found in the corner of the living room where he throws his dirty clothes. He wonders if she even packed anything for herself before she hightailed it out of the city.

He couldn’t have imagined that punching Skinner would lead to his father dead, him shot by his partner, and them on the run across the country. And yet, there’s no place he’d rather be. The desert gifting them with a stunningly clear night, he’s opened the car’s sunroof and kicked back to stare up at the stars. The radio having long turned to static, quiet permeates the car.

“I’d gladly live in the middle of nowhere if I got this view every night,” Mulder remarks, drinking in the night sky.

Scully glances at him. There’s a rogue part of her brain that hoped he’d be looking back at her. Alas, the sky is his mistress. 

They continue barreling down the highway, about seven hours out from their destination.  The speedometer reads 87 mph...Scully is prone to speeding when she can get away with it.

“Keep it up and we’ll beat the sunrise,” Mulder jests. 

“That’s the plan.”

Mulder pulls his seat back into place, popping suddenly into Scully’s peripheral vision. “Hey Scully, can I ask you a question?”

“If I said no, would that stop you?”

“Negative.”

“Go on, then.”

“Setting aside the why--though I’d be interested in that, too--how exactly did you decide that shooting me near the heart would be the safest bet?...Unless you wanted to kill me.”

“Well, I was pretty certain I’d be able to remove the bullet with what you had in your apartment, since the wound isn’t near a bone. That also makes it easier to prevent infection.”

“So you either have an insane amount of confidence in your shot, or you don’t value me very much,” he quips.

Scully smirks. “Lucky for you, I consider target practice a great stress reliever.”

“Does the Bureau psychologist know that?”

She bats his arm playfully, the car swerving as she does.

“Hey, that’s no way to treat a patient. Now I know why you’re not practicing.”

“Oh, did I forget to mention…? I’ve decided that I prefer Dr. Scully to Special Agent Scully, so this is the last you’ll be hearing from me.”

Mulder chuckles, though the very idea that there could be any truth to that gives him a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. “There are millions of doctors out there,” he says, “and some of them aren’t even the cool type. Special Agent? That’s way sexier.”

“Oh, is that the metric we’re measuring at now?”

“That’s the metric I’m always measuring at,” he deadpans. 

“Mmm.” Scully looks at the rearview mirror, her sister’s steady-breathed sleep reflecting back at her. Good. She’d never hear the end of it if Missy overheard this conversation.

Mulder rubs his eyes, the events prior to his blackout having flowed back to him through the waking hours. “I’m sure I’ll regret asking this,” he begins, “but am I a fugitive?”

Scully glances out the driver’s window, as if she were going to change lanes though there is nowhere to go and no one else around. “I took your weapon to ballistics and proved it wasn’t the one used in the murder.” She says it so casually, Mulder notices, distancing them from the fact that the victim was his father. “But you’re still the only one placed at the scene, and it doesn’t look good that you called the police then ran. Still, the evidence implies that it wasn’t you. Of course, there’ll be suspicion…”

“Especially since we’ve both disappeared…”

“Hey, we’re on FBI business,” Scully declares. “We didn’t go through the official channels, but this is related to the X-Files.”

“Maybe Skinner will believe that if he hears it from you.”

“That’s what I’m banking on.”

Mulder smiles. She’s using her reputation to pull off a ruse. And damn, does that turn him on. 

He breathes in the scents of the car--the McDonalds fries they bought with Melissa’s credit card (just to be safe), his own eau de cologne from three days without a shower, but, above all, Scully’s sweetness. Her, just...her. A hint of strawberry, a swipe of gardenia perfume, and her honey-suckle skin. Smoke was never a fitting scent for her, and he is glad she has given it up.

“I’m guessing it’s safe to say you never caught up to Krycek,” Mulder mutters, balling up the fast-food straw paper and tossing it in the air. “Unless you’ve got him in the trunk.”

Scully shakes her head. “No stowaways besides you. He ran off after I shot and catching him wasn’t exactly my top priority.”

“So you do value my life…”

Scully flashes a brilliant but bashful smile. “You caught me.”

What a relationship they have. They are each other’s slayer and savior;  a cut of the knife stitched by a meticulous hand. Hurt then healed on the other’s command.

“Fox…” 

Mulder glances at the backseat. He finds Melissa sound asleep, snoring softly, and his gaze snaps back to the other Scully in the car. What glitch in the universe has led her to address him by his dreaded name?

He has never been so sure as in this moment---his partner is an otherworldly being, something supernatural. Not an alien, nothing so sinister...but perhaps the angel he imagined, or a fairy who has guided mankind for millennia, or a genie granting his wishes in freeze-frames. She looks through him...not in a way which makes him invisible, but one that takes the physical aspect out of it entirely. She sees his soul. He knows this.

“Fox,” she continues, layering on the vulnerability, “I’m sorry about your father. I know you loved him, above it all.”

Mulder pinches the bridge of his nose. “Something like that...I don’t know, honestly, that he ever loved me.” He looks at his lap. “He spent his last breath asking for forgiveness. You have to wonder what he’s done with his life to end up there.”

“It all becomes clear at the end,” Scully responds, not so much a hypothesis as a statement of fact, drawn from experience. “His regrets caught up to him, and he loathed some things he did while cursing himself for the things he left undone...And in that moment, an apology was all he could do to right some wrongs.”

Mulder looks at her through the corner of his eye, somewhat disturbed by the oracle she has become. “He asked me to forgive him,” Mulder replies. “That’s not the same as an apology.”

“Isn’t it, though?’

Mulder crosses his arms over his chest, the lumpy gauze of his wound rubbing him through his shirt. “Well, first of all, he didn’t even specify what I was supposed to forgive him for, so I don’t see how that can yield any sort of apology. And the very fact that was saying it at the end of his life means that it wasn’t actually about soothing my feelings, but lessening his guilt. Really, it didn’t have a damn thing to do with me.”

“So you’re saying it was a selfish apology, and that doesn’t count.”

“Exactly.”

“So do apologies only work if the recipient accepts them?” Scully interjects. “Is there no value in the attempt?” 

Mulder bites his lip.

“I’m not trying to play devil’s advocate,” she clarifies. “I’m genuinely curious about what you think.”

He sighs. “I think...what matters is not necessarily if the apology is accepted, but the intent of it. Like in this case, it was ill-timed, and so I don’t accept it. Maybe if he had said it to me ten years ago, it would have mattered, even if I were too stubborn to accept it at the time.”

“So if your father had apologized to you ten years ago, you would accept it now that he’s dead…?”

Mulder shrugs. “I think I’d realize that he actually meant it, and so I should cut him some slack.”

“Interesting.” Scully says nothing else, keeping her attention straight ahead.

Mulder smirks. “You don’t agree with me, do you?”

She pulls her lips into a tightly-knitted line. “No, no, that makes sense. I just think there are instances when a poorly-timed apology is accepted, and what then? Is the inevitable misunderstanding that will result the recipient’s fault for being so naive? Or do they get to place all the blame on the dishonest person?”

“How about a little bit of both, ey? Spread the blame out nice and evenly. A sprinkle there, a pinch here...”

Scully cracks a smile. Of course he’d make this conversation dirty. “You know, you scare me sometimes, Mulder.”

And just like that, they’re back to his preferred name. He lets out a sideways smile. “Yeah? Why?”

“Because I think that maybe you’re truly crazy, you’re not just faking it.”

He laughs, deep and sudden. Pulled from the trenches of his being. “Glad to hear it,” he snickers. “Glad to hear it.”

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

As the motorcycle rumbles over the desert dust, Scully wonders how she could be so stupid. Barely out of psychosis and she sends Mulder to a burial ground. She didn’t intend for it to be his final resting place. 

Eric had tried to warn him before the helicopter men, as he called them when describing the scene to Scully and Melissa, burned the place. But Mulder couldn’t hear him over the whirl of the blades--that’s what Eric suspected. As he recounted to the girls, the smoking man had threatened him, had laid a grotesque hand on him and forced him to show the way back to his house. They interrogated his father Albert and bruised and bloodied him. The conclusion, all around, was that nobody knew where Mulder was. Regardless of whether he had burned in that boxcar or somehow disappeared into the desert beforehand, he was gone.

Scully has a pretty clear idea of who’s responsible, and she wishes she had a helicopter she could ram into their dumb black helicopter to wipe them off the face of the Earth... and prevent them from wiping anyone else off the face of the Earth. Thwarting their ambitions will have to be enough.

But how? Desert heat mixes with smoldering ash as she stands over what’s left of the boxcar, making the moment unbearable. It is obvious to her that if Mulder was still in the boxcar when the ignitor went off, he is now dead. No human can survive that magnitude of burning--he would, in fact, be incinerated. Not a piece of him left behind, identifiable even to Scully’s trained eye. 

And if he wasn’t in the boxcar, if he heard the helicopter and gave himself over to the desert? What then? Surely he would have found his way back to where she was standing by now. Surely she’d be able to see him, hear him, touch him. There’d be proof he was something more than ashes. Maybe even, he might have made it back to the motel. But Melissa is keeping watch, and she hasn’t said a word. Missy would not play games about this. 

Logic prevailing, as it often does with her, Scully lets Eric drive her back to the motel. If he’s not here, then he’s there. And if he’s not there then--well, she knows. And isn’t it just like Mulder to leave her enough evidence to point one way without giving her the proof she needs to conclude? She imagines a funeral sans a body and shutters. 

When they get back to the motel and Missy opens the door and she is alone in the room, Scully is not surprised. She is shattered. It’s like learning the day you’ll die, then waking up on that day and recoiling at the calendar. What will be cannot be stopped. Not by any power of persuasion. Any.

She wants to scream, cry, file a personal complaint with God. Instead, she walks through the door, thanks Eric for his help, then asks her sister what she wants for dinner. Scully’s not hungry--she rarely is these days, and how could she be at a time like this?--but Melissa, she’s human, and she’s been waiting around all day, and all they have in the room is a quarter-full bag of gummy worms, so yeah, Scully decides, Missy probably is hungry. And that’s something she can take care of. 

Missy looks at her sister like--well, like she said she just saw an alien. “Dana, you’re not well.” Then, after getting no reaction--”It’s okay to be upset.”

Scully throws her blazer over a chair. ”I didn’t say I wasn’t upset.”

Missy sits down on the bed and pats the space next to her. “Come on, let’s talk about it.”

Scully throws her hands in the air. “He’s gone, Melissa, what else can I say?” She paces through the room. “If he was in the box car, he burned to death. And if he wasn’t, then shouldn’t we have found him by now?”

“Not necessarily,” Missy counters. “Albert told me about the Anasazi, a tribe that lived here hundreds of years ago.”

“I know, I know. They disappeared, historians have no explanation for it.”

‘“That’s what they say. But, honestly, Dana--nothing disappears without a trace. Mulder included.”

Scully shoots her a look. “So what is your explanation? That he was abducted, despite there being multiple witnesses who didn’t see a thing?”

“He called you, he said he saw something in the boxcar.”

Scully nods. “Bodies...lots of them. He said they didn’t look human. And they all had smallpox vaccination scars.”

“What do you make of that?”

Scully shrugs. “I don’t know, but I don’t think it has anything to do with the Anasazi.”

“So why did the men burn the boxcar?”

“It could have been because Mulder was in there, and they wanted to kill him. Or because what’s in there was damning to them.”

Missy bites her lip. “Did the boxcar blow up?”

“No, but it’s still smoldering.”

“Could you go in tomorrow and take a look? See what you can find?”

“Missy, I doubt there’s anything left. And besides, I’ve already ignored about thirty calls from Director Skinner. I need to get back to DC...I’m lucky if I’ll still have a job.”

“Fuck the job. Think of Mulder.”

“I need to consider both if I’m actually to uncover any of the conspiracies that Mulder--and his father and so many others--died as a result of.”

Melissa frowns. Dana’s already counting her partner out...that’s hard to come back from, being christened as a corpse. She sighs. ”Alright, I’m going to preface this by saying that I truly don’t believe that Mulder’s dead, and I know you will find him.”

Scully’s eyes narrow, intrigued by her sister’s shift in tone. “Okay…”

“There’s a technique that I learned from my therapist friend,” Missy begins, already setting off alarm bells in Scully’s head, “that is meant to help process complicated feelings about a person.” 

Scully purses her lips as Missy continues--”It’s used to find clarity and--if it’s someone you’ve lost, literally or metaphorically--to give closure. I think it would help you establish a clear motivation to keep up your work on the X-Files.”

Scully’s forehead creases right between the eyebrows. “I just told you, I have one.”

“Yes, but if you go back to Washington, bureaucracy’s gonna get in the way of all of that. That’s why you drove out here in the first place, isn’t it? To avoid bureaucracy and push forward with the case?”

“I suppose,” Scully mumbles.

“And that’s exactly what Mulder would have done, and that’s what he would want you to do now.”

“This is beginning to sound like one of those ‘if x jumped off a bridge, would you?’ scenarios,” Scully retorts. 

“But with the opposite sentiment,” Melissa clarifies. “You and Mulder have never been closer to finding the truth. Now do you want to hear my suggestion or not?”

Hands on her hips, Scully’s silence commands Missy to continue. 

“Let me remind you that Mulder is not dead, and this is just an exercise.”

Scully nods, more to keep her moving than in agreement. 

“I want you to write a eulogy for him.”

Scully’s mouth drops open in protest. “And this is going to advance the investigation how?”

“By giving you emotional clarity. Essentially, you’ll realize how much he means to you, and it will push you to do whatever you can to complete the investigation.”

Scully scoffs. “You act like I don’t even like him or something.”

“You like him, but you’re afraid of imitating him. There’s a lack of...respect for his methods. And they’re the only way this case is gonna get solved.”

Scully crosses her arms. “Gee, apparently you should have gone to Quantico in my place.” It’s not that she’s afraid, per say, but that she doesn’t think Mulder’s unconventional approach will work. Two plus years in and she still believes herself more than him. She wishes she didn’t.

“You don’t have to read the eulogy out loud,” Missy coos, knowing full well that she’ll be sneaking around during the night to get her hands on it when her sister refuses to share. 

“Wow, thanks. That makes me feel a lot better,” Scully groans. 

Melissa squeezes her sister’s shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay. You’ll find him, and this will help you know what to say when you do.”

Scully leans into the hug. “For the record, I think this is insane, alright? I’m only doing it because it’s getting too late to search the desert.”

“Understood.” Missy stands up. “Oh, and to answer your question, Albert invited us over for a traditional tribal feast at his house.”

“What?”

“You asked what I wanted for dinner. Those are our plans.”

“Oh.” Scully looks at her lap. It seems unfair to have to face the world at a time like this. Especially when her head is plagued with thoughts about what she would--will?--say at her partner’s funeral. And still, she continues.

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

Crowding around Albert’s dining table, the party finishes the last bites left on their plates. It has been a long day--or days, more accurately--and the desolate black sky outside makes Scully feel like it’s 4am, though the clock only reads 7. She blinks toward her company, trying to remain present.

“I am thankful we could share this meal,” Albert says, nodding to Scully and her sister. “It is not often we get outsiders here, and even less often that we’re able to indulge in the foods of our ancestors.”

Missy reaches for the final piece of fry bread, biting into it daintily. 

“There’s not a lot here,” Albert tells them, eyes downcast. “Nowadays, we take what we can get, and that means eating to survive...your processed foods and non-perishables have become the staples of our diets.”

Scully tries not to frown. “Well, we’re very glad that you prepared this for us. It was delicious,” she says, trying to inject enthusiasm into her downtrodden heart. 

“Yes, thank you very much,” Missy affirms. 

Albert casts his eyes in Scully’s direction. A shadow falls over her. From where, she is not certain. 

“You are hurting, but you do not need to be. What is yours will find you. There is no such thing as disappearance.”

Scully pulls her lips into a solemn smile. “That’s kind of you to say.”

“It is the truth. The desert acts in its own way, and it is never wrong.”

Scully nods, trying to believe him. Trying to have faith. “Thank you, Albert.”

From across the table, he extends his palms toward her. “Pray with me.”

She clasps his hands and closes her eyes. Prayer is not normally something she engages in with others around, but neither is grief. 

Albert begins speaking in the language written on the Defense Department files. She doesn’t understand the words, but his sincerity transcends semantics. The spirit of faith--the spirit of God--is there.

She has been thinking lately of faith. The faith she has been feeling is not that of Sunday mornings and ‘forgive me Father for I have sinned.’ It’s something else entirely, something that has compelled her to do things she would never do... until she looked down at her hands and she was doing them. 

So many transgressions to count, and yet she hesitates to even call them that. Injured her partner--a suspected fugitive--to keep him from implicating himself, tapped her sister as her sidekick to take him halfway across the country, and deserted her duties at the FBI, all in favor of the truth. 

Maybe truth is faith that good will prevail. 

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

When Scully sits down that night with the motel notepad and a pen, she becomes a conduit for everything she couldn’t say out loud. She copies the entire Mulder file from her brain, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. It doesn’t capture any of his essence, the unique flavor of humanity that he bravely faced the world with which made him so...him. 

It is then that Scully realizes you can know all the details of someone’s life without ever really knowing them, and that scares her because she gets the inkling that she has never truly let Mulder in--though he has opened up to her--and what if he dies feeling like he never got further than the young woman whose physics thesis he read? That’s not fair, not when she knows him so well.

She takes a breath and puts the pen down. She can’t compose Mulder to life. Resurrection doesn’t work that way. What she can do--and what she realizes is what every person does in this situation, and there must be something wrong with her because it wasn’t her first instinct--is write about how the man she knows (knew?) made her feel. About the impact his life had on her life. 

Her vision blurs as she works to consolidate her unauthorized biography of Fox William Mulder into a passage that suggests the joy their partnership brought into her life. Though Missy said she wouldn’t have to share, Scully can’t shake the feeling that she will need this at some point in time, that having a eulogy on call might not be such a bad idea. It’s a terrible thought, but a truth every agent knows. After all, she and Mulder witnessed each other writing their wills, and that was considered a customary work duty. Nothing is out of reach.

And so she wrote as if she’ll have to read it one day, letting her emotions flow within the confines of her finely tuned self-awareness. The end product turns out somewhat more sentimental than she envisioned, but she caps her pen and walks away, giving herself permission to take up space. 

--Fox William Mulder--

As he despised being called by his first name, I must take the liberty of referring to my partner as Mulder one last time. I was lucky to know him. Not as Spooky or the alien-obsessed man in the basement, but for who he truly was. Nothing was more important to Mulder than the truth. And the truest truth I know about him is that he loved his sister, and he wanted justice for her. It’s what he spent his life on, and ultimately, what he sacrificed it for. I am honored to have played any role in his mission, and I hope to continue it in his memory. 

If there’s one piece of Mulder that I hope to carry with me for the rest of my life, it’s his tenacity. Mulder never, never let any obstacle get in his way. I can’t tell you how many times I wasn’t sure where he was, only to learn that he had flown to the ends of the Earth to investigate whatever lead he found promising that day. I doubt that I’ll ever encounter anyone who lives up to the passion and determination he contained within him. And it’s a shame because the world needs that...The world needed him. 

I needed him too. He challenged me in ways I never dreamed of. Sometimes I wanted to pull my hair out, but mostly, I just kept thinking about how boring my life would be if I never met him. And now...I don’t know what’s next. There were so many possible futures ahead for us and the X-Files. This isn’t just a eulogy for Mulder, it’s a eulogy for all that could have been. He was my best friend. There’s nothing more I can say. 

When she reads it back the next morning, she falls to her knees in conversation with God, pleading for a miracle to bring the man she has finally realized she loves back into her life.

[bebychangbean]

Strangers Ch.1

Demon! Han Jisung x Reader

First chapter of a 3 part series. This story isn’t gonna be lighthearted and fun btw. It’s based on a nightmare I had a few days ago,,, that should tell you enough. 

Warnings: minor character death, violence, heavy themes.

Next

Word count: 5k

Jisung had always known he was different. There was a voice in his head that had been there since he was a child. The voice told him to do horrible things: hurt his friends, run into a busy street, jump out the window. He had complained to his mom about it for the first time when he was four, but she had already known what was wrong with him.

Jisung had started showing signs of possession when he was five years old. It started with a flash of darkness in his eyes and his tiny hands scratching into his mother’s arm, leaving small red marks on her pale skin. It escalated quickly, Jisung’s body starting to float when he slept, whispering to himself unintelligibly, a different voice coming out of his own mouth.

His mother recognized the second voice and she knew that his condition was her fault.

He shouldn’t have been born.

Jisung became severely violent by 2nd grade, fighting with other kids and getting into trouble. Teachers thought he was just a troubled kid, but Jisung’s mom knew better. Jisung had explained to her the feeling he would get before a fight: blurry vision, involuntary movements and a foggy feeling in his head.

When Jisung was 8, the two of them moved to Malaysia where Jisung could learn to control himself as he got older. He went to school there, causing mayhem until he was eventually pulled out and homeschooled after beating a kid so mercilessly that they had to be taken to the hospital.

By the time Jisung was 14, he could control his impulses fairly well. The voice was still there, and he still talked to it in his dreams, but he was no longer in danger of hurting anyone.

He and his mother moved back to Korea, allowing Jisung to go to highschool and live as normally as possible. He graduated without a hitch, making tons of great friends that stuck with him into his first year of college.

~

School had just ended and Jisung was heading to a nearby convenience store to grab a snack with some friends. His head had been hurting all day, the voice inside just a little louder than usual, his fingers twitching, arms moving with a mind of their own.

Something was wrong.

He pushed those feelings to the side as he approached the counter, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket to pay for the orange juice and the bag of M&M’s he was holding.

His eye twitched, his vision blurring heavily, the edges tinted red. The girl behind the counter said something, but the ringing in his ears drowned her out almost completely. His head was spinning as something in his mind activated his fight-or-flight responses against his will. He staggered as his heart rate jumped.

Jisung’s arms reached out before he could stop them, one hand securing itself around her throat and the other on the side of her face. Hyunjin looked over just in time to see the commotion, letting out a shout of alarm and running toward his friend.

He was too late, the girl’s eyes rolled back in her head, a scream caught in her throat as Jisung snapped her head violently to the side, his own head mimicking the action mockingly. A disgusting crack resounded throughout the shop.

Hyunjin grabbed Jisung’s arms, pulling them away from the poor cashier who fell promptly to the ground.

The tall boy’s shouts alerted the rest of their friends who were scattered around the small convenience store and Chan ran over to see what was wrong. He dashed immediately behind the counter to check on the girl, alarmed at the awkward angle her head was at and the stillness of her pale figure. He lifted her by the arms into a sitting position, looking into her vacant eyes as he checked for a pulse and watching for even the faintest rise and fall of her chest. Finding nothing, he looked frantically up at Hyunjin.

“She’s not breathing!” he yelled, panic taking over.

Hyunjin was still holding Jisung by the shoulders, shaking him and trying to get him to respond.

“What did you do?” he screamed, eyes bulging, tears streaming down his face at his best friend’s actions, “Jisung what the fuck did you just do?”

Jisung’s vision was still cloudy, intrusive thoughts echoing in his mind. Everything was going too fast, Hyunjin’s shouts, the vicious movement of his already dizzy body.

Within seconds the rest of the boys were crowded around the counter to see what was wrong. Chan shouted for someone to call an ambulance as he continued trying to wake up the girl who was clearly long gone. Jisung covered his ears with his hands to block out the voices of his friends, but it only amplified the shrieks in his head.

“Run!” the voice said. “Get as far from here as you can!”

And Jisung listened. Ripping Hyunjin’s hands off his shoulders and shoving past Seungmin and Minho. He sprinted out the door and down the street, shoving pedestrians, running faster than he ever had, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Jisung didn’t even bother to look where he was going, his feet taking him wherever they pleased, whipping around corners and across streets. Cars honked furiously at him as he dodged through traffic, trying to get away from the police he knew would soon arrive.

Jisung was so in his head that he didn’t hear the heavy padding of the feet that followed him. Chan had jumped the counter to run after him as soon as Jisung left the convenience store, Hyunjin and Minho close behind.

Chan’s chest was heaving from the effort of chasing his friend–was Jisung always this fast?–he heard the sirens ringing out from the convenience store a few blocks away.

Hyunjin was having a hard time keeping up, but Minho grabbed him by the arm and pulled him along, the three of them not letting Jisung get away.

The four of them ran for at least 30 minutes, Jisung trying to get out of the city before the cops found him. He was sure that his face would be on the news within hours. He wondered what his sentence would be if he was caught. He thought briefly about his friends who had stayed behind in the store, selling him out to the police. He thought of the girl he killed. He didn’t even know her name, his eyes skipping over the nametag that was clipped to her shirt.

Jisung shook his head as he stopped to catch his breath, leaning against the side of a building on the outskirts of Seoul. The other three caught up to him there, Chan grabbing his arm to stop him from escaping again.

“What the fuck, Jisung,” he said, gasping. “Where are you going?”

Jisung looked up at him and Chan noticed the tears in his eyes and the scared expression on his face. He realized that Jisung’s life could never be the same after this. He also realized that he didn’t want his best friend of four years to go to prison and never be seen again.

“I didn’t mean to,” Jisung whispered, burying his head in Chan’s chest.

Chan wanted to push him away, still scared and disgusted with the younger boys actions. He would never be able to forget the feeling of holding the limp body of the girl who looked like she couldn’t have been much older than himself.

“I couldn’t control myself,” Jisung continued, “It’s like something took over. I couldn’t stop it in time.” He looked down, clutching onto Chan and attempting to steady his breathing and stop the panic from rising inside himself.

“We can’t stay here,” Minho said. “The police will find us if we’re out in the open like this.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened at Minho’s words. Was he implying that they keep running and hide from the police?

Jisung wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, Minho locking eyes with him reassuringly. “I’m not leaving you, Jisung,” he said, taking his hand and pulling him away from the wall.

The two boys had known each other since they were children. They grew up on the same street, keeping in contact even during the six years that Jisung was in Malaysia. Minho was the only person Jisung had ever told about the voice in his head and the older boy was sure Jisung wouldn’t have acted this way on his own. He knew it wasn’t his fault.

Minho started to run again, a little bit slower this time, pulling Jisung behind him. Chan kicked off the wall next to them, getting ready to run after the two.

“You two better explain this later,” Hyunjin muttered, taking off as well.

They continued to run until they were just out of Seoul, then walking along a dirt road on the edge of Suwon. They didn’t forget to toss their phones in a nearby puddle, effectively killing them. They stomped on them, just to be safe, and buried them a few feet off the dirt road they were walking on. They weren’t taking any chances of getting caught. If they were gonna run away, they were gonna do it right.

The houses in Suwon were few and far between, farmland taking up a majority of the wide landscape. It was unlikely that they would be found here, so they decided they needed a place to stay for the time being.

“That patch of trees looks pretty nice,” Minho said, pointing out a relatively hidden spot a few yards off the road.

“We don’t have blankets,” Chan pointed out.

“Or food,” Hyunjin added.

“Well damn, I didn’t realize y’all wanted to be picky,” Minho shot back, rolling his eyes.

“I wouldn’t call basic necessities ‘being picky’,” Hyunjin argued, the two quarrelling like usual.

Jisung quietly kept walking along the road, clearly not content with sleeping outside in the middle of autumn. Chan caught up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Jisung didn’t say anything–he’d been eerily quiet since they’d left the city–and lifted his hand to point at a cozy looking house about half a mile away.

“You wanna stay there? What if someone lives there?” Chan asked, wary of showing their faces to strangers. The boys had pulled facemasks from their backpacks to hide their identities once they got out of Seoul, Hyunjin and Chan pulling up the hoods of their jackets to shield themselves from oncoming cars.

“I don’t care,” Jisung responded, his voice hollow and devoid of emotion.

Chan simply nodded and kept walking with him, Minho and Hyunjin still bickering quietly in the back.

~

The knock on the door startled you. You nearly burned yourself on the edge of the pan you were cooking with as you turned to look at the window next to the door, the sheer curtains showing the silhouettes of two boys holding hands nervously. You turned the fire down and wiped your hands on your apron, walking toward the door. Sure, as a young girl living on your own it was probably not wise to open the door for strangers, but the crime rates were low here and you were willing to take your chances.

Upon opening the door, you were greeted with four nervous faces, two smiling and the other two with shifty eyes.

“Can I help you?” you asked politely. You figured they were neighbors who had just moved in nearby.

“Um…” the boy with curly hair trailed off, trying to figure out how to word his next sentence. “We need a place to stay for the night and we were wondering if we could maybe stay here?” Chan asked, wringing his hands in front of him.

Your eyebrows raised, unsure of what to do in this situation. Obviously you shouldn’t let them stay. They hadn’t even told you their names. Then again, the sun was starting to set and it would soon be quite cold outside. You’d feel horrible if they froze to death.

You wordlessly stepped aside, letting the four boys into your home, slapping yourself mentally as you realized that you were such a stereotypical horror movie character. But they looked so tired, the least you could do was feed them and get to know them a little. They seemed relatively harmless.

You led them back to your kitchen, the space now a little more crowded than before. “Please, sit,” you said, gesturing to the dining table on the other side of the room.

The boys moved cautiously from the doorway as if they were worried about scaring you if they went too fast. You simply resumed your cooking, adding a bit more rice to the pan to accommodate for your newcomers.

“So what’s up with you guys? How’d you get out here?” You asked, thinking for a second before adding, “And while you’re at it, why don’t you tell me your names.”

“I’m Chan,” the boy with the curly hair from before spoke up.

“Minho,” added another boy from his seat at the table. He nudged the boy next to him, silently telling him to go next.

“I’m Hyunjin,” he said. He turned to the final boy whose eyes were cast down at his hands as he played with his fingers. “That’s Jisung.”

You nodded and introduced yourself, “I’m Y/n.” You waited for them to continue talking as you turned back to your fried rice, still not knowing what the boys were doing showing up at your house at 7 pm.

Chan spoke up, “We’re on vacation,” he lied, “We came from Seoul to spend a week–”

“We’re on the run,” Jisung spoke up, cutting off Chan’s next words. You spun around and looked blankly at him. Those were the first words Jisung had said to you, and they weren’t reassuring your decision to let them into your house. “We’re wanted,” Jisung looked dead at you. “I’m wanted.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. Of course your life couldn’t be like some fairytale movie and you had to meet a band of criminals. You had half a mind to just tell them to leave and chase them out with a knife, but they’d been otherwise nice and harmless so you almost couldn’t believe Jisung’s statement.

“I don’t even want to know what for, do I?” you asked rhetorically. “Anyways, I hope you guys like fried rice.”

They did, apparently, the four of them ravenous after running for almost four hours. There wasn’t much talking during the meal, but Chan made sure to thank you for your hospitality, the other boys following suit. They expected you to kick them out once dinner was over and to be honest, you probably should. You already knew that they were criminals and you knew nothing else but their names, but it was still unlikely that they’d survive the night outside.

You had two spare rooms anyway and the couch was pretty comfortable. It was fortunate that the boys had come when you were the only one home, your parents living in Seoul for work and your older brother travelling overseas for school. You were taking a year off of college to focus on getting a job and making money so that your tuition didn’t put you in debt for life.

Chan stood up from his seat, bowing respectfully to you and thanking you again for the meal, Hyunjin standing up shortly after. The boys shuffled towards the door, Jisung the last one to move.

“Wait,” you called out. “You guys can stay the night.”

Minho turned around, shock riddling his features. You were actually going to let them stay? Even after Jisung blew their cover? He was almost going to question your decision before Chan cut in. He wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip away, thanking you profusely and bowing.

You led the boys to your brothers room and upstairs to your parents room. You watched, amused, as the boys played rock-paper-scissors to determine who would be staying on the couch. The five of you didn’t talk much after that, the boys throwing their backpacks near the foot of the beds and passing out rather quickly. Chan had told you that they’d come on foot all the way from Seoul so their sleepiness made sense. He didn’t explain why they were hiding from the police, but you figured you’d have an easier time sleeping if you didn’t know. Ignorance is bliss.

You made sure they all had water and that Chan, who was taking the couch, was comfortable before slipping upstairs into your room.

You locked the door behind you, still not fully trusting the strangers, and you tossed and turned a little before finally falling asleep.

~

Jisung had never shared a bed with anyone before, so tucking up next to Minho in your parents’ bed worried him. Minho was his best friend and the only one who truly knew Jisung’s secret, but he was still wary of his sleeping habits. He prayed silently that Minho would sleep all the way through the night as he drifted off to sleep.

His prayers were apparently unanswered as he woke Minho up around 2:00 am.

The older boy fought for the blanket he was sharing with Jisung while they slept, rolling over to face him when he felt the blanket shift further off of his body, exposing him to the chilly air in the room. Minho slowly peeked one eye open to look at the small boy, confused for a second as to why Jisung was not there. Rather, the blanket was dragged upwards into the air and Minho’s eyes followed it to his friend’s levitating body.

Jisung was floating almost three feet above the bed, his arms crossed over his chest, blanket still covering the lower half of him. The boy was whispering quietly to himself, two distinctly different voices coming out of his mouth.

Minho listened, stunned, as they conversed. He realized that the second voice, the deep one that certainly did not belong to Jisung, was speaking a different language. It wasn’t one he recognized, but Jisung responded in Korean. Minho only understood bits of the conversation, but it seemed like Jisung was accepting praise from the other voice.

Minho slowly came to his knees on the bed, arms reaching out to hold Jisung and gently pull him back to the bed. He was worried that Jisung might wake and fall suddenly, so he was as gentle as possible. It didn’t take much effort to lower the boy back down, but as soon as he removed his hands, Jisung’s body would start to float back up.

Minho threw an arm and a leg over the sleeping boy to hold him down. Jisung’s whispering hadn’t stopped, but the voices were a little quieter than before. Minho didn’t know why he was so calm when faced with his levitating best friend, but he simply shut his eyes and tried to fall back asleep.

~

You woke to the quiet sound of your phone alarm going off at 6:00 am. You had set it early to make sure that you would be the first one up, not wanting to give the boys the time to wander around your house. You stayed in bed for a bit, scrolling through your phone, killing time until you heard quiet voices in the room next door. Jisung and Minho were awake, it seemed.

You kicked your feet off the side of your bed, pulling the hood of your soft sweater over your ratty hair and giving yourself a once-over in the mirror. You walked out the door and down the stairs, finding Chan wide awake on the couch. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all (he hadn’t), but he still greeted you with a charming smile before getting up from the couch.

He followed you into the kitchen, sitting down at the table and watching you pull out ingredients for a large breakfast. You didn’t know what the boys liked, but you decided omelets couldn’t be too bad.

Chan helped you grate cheese as you sliced up some ham and mushrooms for filling.

“Hyunjin doesn’t like mushrooms, by the way,” Chan said, breaking the silence in the room.

You snickered quietly at how well he knew his friends and continued on to cut up some green onions.

“Hyunjin doesn’t like onions either,” Chan added with a laugh.

“God damnit, he’s getting eggs then,” you said, exasperated.

The tall boy walked into the kitchen behind you, groaning and dragging his feet. He also looked like he hadn’t slept much despite how tired he was last night. He collapsed into a chair at the table, closing his eyes as if trying to get just another minute of sleep.

“Hey, picky,” you called out to him. He opened his eyes slowly, raising his eyebrows at the nickname. “How do you like your eggs?” you asked.

“Just the whites,” he responded, sinking back into his chair comfortably.

“What the fuck,” you whispered to Chan. He rolled his eyes and pulled a frying pan off the rack on the wall while you opened a cupboard to get the oil.

You made Hyunjin’s awful food first, sprinkling some salt on his dish and handing him the steaming plate of scrambled egg whites. It looked disgusting, but he didn’t look phased as he thanked you and started eating.

You and Chan then got to work making edible food, pulling out extra plates for the other two boys who came down the stairs together, holding hands. You almost made a joke before you remembered Jisung’s words from last night, the sudden realization of who they were hitting you in the face.

You had seen an article on your phone about a murder in Seoul. Police said that a young boy had killed a girl in a convenience store, but there wasn’t much more information about the case. You wondered briefly if those were the boys in your house before turning yourself back to the eggs at hand.

Once you had served the boys, you took your plate and sat on the couch in the living room as the table in your kitchen only seated four. You turned on the TV, scrolling to the news channel. You needed to confirm your suspicions before you decided whether you’d be kicking the boys out of the house today or not.

The boys heard the news anchor before they could stop you, their ears perking up at the familiar story, Chan shooting up from the table, eyes widening.

“Han Jisung’s whereabouts remain under investigation after his murder of Kim Eunjung in a 7/11 in Dongdaemun-Gu yesterday,” the announcer said.

You stared, horrified at the picture of Jisung on the TV. Chan’s head peeked out of the doorway to look at the TV, eyes fixed on his friend’s face.

You glanced toward Chan, your eyes meeting Jisung’s who stood behind him as the announcer continued talking.

“His three friends have also gone missing after Han ran from the scene,” pictures of Chan, Hyunjin, and Minho flashed across the screen. “If you have any information on the location of these people please call 119.”

You pulled your feet up onto the couch, wrapping your arms around your knees and hiding your face. This couldn’t be happening. Jisung had already told you he was wanted, but seeing the police report had solidified the truth.

“Y/n,” Chan started. He didn’t know what he was going to say. They couldn’t get out of this one. “I promise we’re not dangerous,” he said.

“Oh really?” you asked rhetorically, your brain falling back on sarcasm to hide how scared you truly were. “Then what the fuck did I just watch?”

Chan couldn’t answer. Truthfully, he didn’t even know what was wrong with Jisung. The boy was usually so sweet and innocent, he didn’t understand why he’d lashed out so suddenly.

Jisung stepped into the living room and turned off the TV, his eyes not missing the way you flinched away from him. It hurt him a little bit, but he understood your actions.

He sat down on the floor in front of you, sighing to himself as he realized that he would have to come clean to everyone.

“I’m not fully human,” Jisung said clearly.

All eyes shot toward him except Minho, who had heard this story before.

“My father is a demon,” he clarified. “Minho is the only one I told, but I have my pieces of my father inside of me, feeding off my energy. He always speaks to me, but I can usually control his impulses and ignore his thoughts…” Jisung trailed off. “I don’t know what happened yesterday, but he took over. I couldn’t stop it in time.”

‘This kid is fucking insane,’ you thought to yourself, eyes blinking incredulously at the ridiculous story Jisung had just told. Chan and Hyunjin looked just as skeptical and Jisung started to sweat under their doubtful gazes. Perhaps he didn’t expect you to understand, but he hoped for a little bit of sympathy from his closest friends.

Minho spoke up to defend him, “He’s not lying,” he said. “He floats in his sleep. I saw it last night. And there were two different voices coming out of his mouth when he talked.”

“So you’re both crazy,” Hyunjin said accusingly, backing against the wall of the kitchen, shaking his head at his friends. Your eyes darted around the room, studying the boys' expressions.

“I don’t think he’s lying,” Chan said. You could almost see the gears turning in his head, things clicking into place as he remembered little moments with Jisung that hinted to his confession. “He talks in his sleep. Two different voices. I remember it,” he admitted. “I don’t know about the floating shit though.”

“How do you know?” Jisung asked, his question not helping his claims, but he was always careful not to fall asleep around anyone. He was curious when he’d slipped up.

“You fell asleep in my car one time,” Chan answered. “I remembered thinking it was weird, but I didn’t ask any questions,” he explained.

“Your seatbelt,” Minho interjected. “It must have held you down.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Hyunjin said. You could tell he was starting to panic, his voice a bit shaky, breathing unstable. Chan moved toward him, but Hyunjin pushed him away. The younger boy continued speaking, his voice getting louder with every word, “You’re telling me I was tossing and turning in bed last night trying to figure out why the fuck my best friend had just murdered someone right before my eyes when the whole fucking time you had a demon inside you?”

“I couldn’t have just told you though, could I?” Jisung asked. “You’d think I’m crazy. You already do.”

You were silent this whole time, watching the boys try to understand Jisung’s predicament. Trying to think of what to do next. You had never heard of demons being real before, only ever hearing about them in books or on TV, maybe remembering the faintest story of them in church when you were a child. There’s no way that was real. There was no evidence online or anything.

“Are there more of you?” you asked, the boys suddenly remembering that you were there. “I’ve never heard of any real demons before.”

Jisung was relieved that you were finally believing him. “If there are then they certainly haven’t said anything. I guess it’s the same as me never telling you guys,” he said, gesturing to Chan and Hyunjin.

You didn’t know what to believe. If he was telling the truth, then you should certainly kick him out of your house right this instant. And if he was lying then you should still kick him out. You didn’t know what was more dangerous: a boy with a demon in his head, or a lying psychopath.

You stood abruptly from the couch. “I think it’s time for you guys to go,” you said, ushering them toward the door. Sure it was rude of you, but all formalities were out the window the second demon boy had revealed himself.

“Wait,” Jisung said, suddenly terrified at the prospect of being caught by the police. “They’ll find us outside. I can’t go to jail, please,” he cried. “It’s not my fault. The police wouldn’t believe me. I’d have to plead insanity and–”

Jisung was getting worked up rather quickly, fighting against your gentle push toward the exit. His feet were planted and he clearly wasn’t going anywhere, his strength not matching up to his small frame.

“I’m not housing murderers any longer,” you said firmly, “I’ve already done too much. What was I thinking? Feeding you all and letting you stay the night,” you let out a sigh, disappointed in your foolish self as you continued to push against Jisung. “You guys could kill me any second now,” you added, making sure they knew how uncomfortable you were with their presences now that you knew the truth.

“Wait. Please,” Minho said, looking at you with his big round eyes. “He’s not dangerous. He’s controlled the impulses for 19 years. Yesterday was the first slip-up. It won’t happen again,” he assured. He didn’t even know if that was true. Maybe the first murder would open the flood gates and Jisung would go on a rampage. He had kept so much pent up inside of him for so long.

Jisung nodded furiously, willing to do anything to prevent you from turning him out into the street. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in prison, especially for a crime he didn’t commit on purpose, but he knew the CCTV footage from the 7/11 would be impossible to fight in court. He and his father had talked about it all last night.

You shook your head. How the fuck were you supposed to just let them stay here in your house? But even you had to admit that it wasn’t fair for Jisung to be thrown in jail for something he couldn’t control. Besides, he was only 19. He would spend at least half of his life in prison if he got caught, worst-case-scenario being the death penalty. How could you do that to him? You would never wish that on anybody.

You dropped to the floor and gave up entirely. “What am I supposed to do?” you asked yourself.

“Please just let us stay a little bit longer,” Jisung begged. You looked up to see his big, brown eyes fill with tears, “Just until we find somewhere else to go.”

You nodded, not trusting your words. You knew it was a mistake. You knew it was illegal to hide criminals in your house. If they were found here, you’d all be in trouble.

You were in some deep shit.

[saveyourblood]

Stolen Dance | Ch. 3

Summary: “Maybe this was a pipe dream, a delusion you’d soon awake from or a phase you’d outgrow. You didn’t really care. For a brief moment in time, you were in love. That’s what you chose to care about. That what you made matter.”

The one where you’re a paramedic, he’s an FBI agent, and the time you spend together is borrowed.

Notes: 15k+ in and I still ain’t done. I’m like an annoying cockroach that lives under your fridge.

Word Count: 5k

Song: Someone to Stay - Vancouver Sleep Clinic

Warnings: starts out cute, ends up kind of dark. Mentions of kidnapping, trauma, usual CM warnings. 

_____________________

Clearing out your apartment was easier than you thought it would be; turns out, ever since you got back from Syria, you didn’t have much in terms of belongings. Being a soldier, you learned to pack light. You supposed you never made it out of that mindset. 

Saying goodbye to your parents was surprisingly easy. Of course, your dad couldn’t really argue, him being six feet under and all. You hoped he approved, wherever he was. Like your mom said — he’d want you to move on. 

Your mom managed to keep it together until the two of you were standing in the driveway, saying your ‘final’ goodbye. You caught her wiping away a few tears.

“Come on, mom, don’t cry,” you begged, pulling her into a hug.

“I’m just proud of you, honey,” she assured. She pulled away, setting her hands on your cheeks. “I’m a little sad, but mostly, I’m proud. I know this wasn’t an easy decision for you.”

“I’ll text everyday, and I’ll call you at least once a week,” you said. “I’ll be back for the holidays, too. And hey, maybe I’ll bring Spencer.”

“I can’t wait to meet him.”

You smiled and hugged your mom one last time. You got into your jeep, waved goodbye, and pulled out of the driveway. Only then did you let a few tears of your own fall.

They weren’t out of sadness, per se; you could feel the chapter ending, was all. You didn’t like endings. You didn’t like to say goodbye. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, Spence,” you greeted warmly. You were standing at a gas station somewhere in Western Missouri — about halfway to Virginia.

“What are you doing up so early?” He asked. You could hear the sleep in his voice.

“Oh, shit, did I wake you up?” you said, feeling guilty. “I’ll call you back in a few hours.” 

“No, it’s okay,” he promised. “I like talking to you.”

You smiled again. “Do you like seeing me?” 

“Of course I do.”

“Can I take you out to breakfast Friday morning?” 

“How can you do that if you’re in Colorado?”

Your smile widened. “I never said I was in Colorado.”

“...You’re in Virginia?” He asked, confused.

“I’m on my way,” you answered. “I’m in Missouri now, so I should be there in two days.”

“Two days..?” He thought aloud. A moment of silence passed. “Oh my god, Y/N, are you driving?!”

“Of course I am,” you replied. “What else did you expect?”

“That’s over 1,500 miles!” He shouted. “Something could happen!”

You leaned against the jeep. “Like what?” “Anything! Your car could break down, your reservations could fall through, you could get kidnapped…”

“Spencer,” you said, cutting him off. “I lived in a warzone for 3 years. I can handle a 25-hour road trip.”

“Where are you? What’s your specific location in Missouri?” Spencer asked. You could hear shuffling.

“Does it matter?” “It does matter, because I’m gonna catch a flight,” he said. 

“No you are not!” You laughed. “I am fine, Spencer. I’m not letting you waste a couple grand on a last minute flight to Boondocks, Missouri.” He sighed. “What are your plans for tonight?”

“I have hotel reservations in Nashville,” you chuckled. “I should be there no later than 7 tonight.”

“And if you’re not?”

“Then I’ll call you,” you answered simply. “And if I don’t respond, I just gave your team a case. You’re welcome in advance.”

“This isn’t funny, Y/N!”

You covered your mouth to stifle your laughter. “You know, it’s a good thing we weren’t dating while I was in Syria,” you said, still giggling. “You wouldn’t have survived the first night, let alone 3 years.”

Silence.

“Spence, are you there?” you asked.

“You said we’re dating.” 

Your heart rate picked up. “Aren’t we?” you asked with a nervous chuckle. “I mean, you introduced me to your mom. Fuck-buddies don’t do that.” 

“I guess they don’t,” he ceded. You could practically see his smile. “Hey, why are you coming to Virginia anyways?”

“I can’t drive over 1,500 miles to see you?” you joked.

“You can, but you never have.”

That was a can of worms you didn’t feel like opening over the phone. 

“I’ll tell you when I get there,” you said. “I’ll call you at 7, let you know what’s going on.”

“Stay safe, okay Y/N?” 

You smiled. “Always.”

After filling up the jeep, you sat down in the driver’s seat with a sigh. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes for a moment. You wondered how Spencer would have reacted had you told him you had slept in your car the night before. 

You opened your eyes after awhile to see your dog tags hanging on the rearview mirror. You leaned forward, took them off, and  put them around your neck. You were closing a chapter in your life, so it seemed appropriate to remember the old ones. 

_____________________

You found your new apartment complex in no time, as it was only a few minutes from campus. You considered staying in the dorms, but ultimately decided against it for multiple reasons. It wasn’t much cheaper to live on campus, you being an out of state student, so financially, there was no benefit. Also, you’d been used to living on your own since the Army; you didn’t feel like living with a stranger in their early twenties at the oldest, 18 at the youngest. 

You parked in front so your stuff would be easier to move in. What you didn’t expect was seeing Spencer sitting on the front steps. 

“What are you doing here?!” you asked, jogging up to greet him. Without hesitation, you pulled him into a hug.

“I asked Garcia to do some digging,” he admitted. “You could have told me you were moving.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” you grinned, pulling away. You brushed some hair out of his face.

“Believe me, I am surprised,” Spencer promised. Then, he grinned, grabbed you by the waist, and pulled you into a kiss. 

“You know, we can do this as much as we want now,” you said smugly after pulling away. 

“I guess so,” he smiled. He ran his thumb over your mouth, biting his bottom lip as he did so. 

“If you help me move in, I’ll let you stay the night,” you bribed, resting your arms on his shoulders. “We can order a pizza, watch a movie… do a little more than kissing.”

“You had me at ‘stay the night.’”

Just like moving out didn’t take much time, neither did moving in. Truthfully, you took the most time making your bed. The rest of your items were unpacked in less than an hour.

“Is this all of your stuff?” Spencer asked, looking around the bare room. 

You nodded. “Besides the stuff my mom has at home. I’m not very materialistic.” 

“Have you always been this way?” He inquired curiously.

“Ever since Syria,” you admitted. “Once you see how people in poverty live, a 70” flat screen doesn’t seem all that important, I guess.” 

Spencer took a seat on the couch. “You served for 3 years, right?”

“I thought you had an eidetic memory,” you teased, taking a seat beside him.

“I’m trying to be more conversational.”

“Just be yourself,” you encouraged. “I like you for you.”

He smiled, looking down.

“I was deployed for 3 years,” you said, despite him knowing the answer. “Served for a total of 5. I saw a lot of things. But no matter how bad it got, I knew the people in the situation had it so much worse. It’s like your work at the BAU — you see the worst of humanity, but you don’t suffer from it. It’s just your job to help the people that do.”

“Speaking of the BAU…” Spencer segued. “Have you called Hotch?”

“I… don’t know what to say,” you admitted. 

“I can talk to him for you, if you want,” Spencer offered.

“I’m a big girl: I can do it myself,” you replied. “Thank you, though.”

“Of course,” Spencer said, taking your hand.

Turns out, Spencer didn’t have to tell Hotch anything for him to figure out you were in Virginia. You got voicemail one afternoon, right after a different job interview. Hotch said he ‘got a hold of’ a letter of recommendation your former Sergeant Major wrote for you. He proceeded to say that, if you were still interested, he’d like to set up an interview. 

You called Spencer right away, and the minute you told him, he picked you up and spun you around with joy.

Who knew Virginia could be so great. 

_____________________

The hours before your interview was probably the most nerve-wracking moment of your life. You were terrified of failing, even more so than when you joined the Army. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you fluked this. 

“I’m gonna vomit,” you told Spencer, who was sitting at his desk in the BAU bullpen. Meanwhile, you were relentlessly pacing. “Or faint. Or both.” 

“You’re gonna do fine, Y/N,” Spencer assured. “I’ve never seen Hotch offer an interview to someone. As far as he’s concerned, you’re qualified.”

“Hey beautiful,” someone behind you remarked. You turned around to see Derek Morgan.

“Hey, Derek,” you smiled with some relief. 

“What brings you to Quantico?” He asked, taking a sip from his mug.

“An interview,” you answered simply. Had you continued, you would have rambled. It’s a nervous tick of yours.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “An interview for the BAU?”

You nodded. 

“Good luck, doll,” he said, patting your shoulder. “You’ll do great.” 

Suddenly, you felt Spencer take your hand. 

“Seriously, Y/N, you’ll nail it,” he promised. 

“Y/N Y/L/N?” Hotchner called from the balcony. 

You let go of Spencer’s hand, looking up. “Yes sir?”

“Ready when you are,” he said, then walked back into his office. 

You smoothed down your blouse, sucking in a breath. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it,” Spencer said with a smile. 

“Thanks,” you replied, taking a few steps towards the stairs. “Oh, and Spencer?”

He looked up.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” you said with a wink.

“She’s not wrong,” you heard Derek say before you made your way up the stairs. 

“Why do you think you’d be an asset to this team?” Hotchner asked.

You sat across from his desk, while Erin Strauss, the section chief, stood to the side. 

“Well, all of my former commanders speak very highly of me,” you started. “I was a combat medic in an active warzone for 3 years. I saved more lives than I can count, both civilian and fellow soldiers.” 

“While we appreciate your service,” Erin started, “all BAU agents hold a specific set of skills. What are your qualifications in terms of education?”

“I’m pursuing a degree in Psychology at the University of Virginia,” you informed. 

“What year are you in?”

“...I’ll be a freshman in a few months.”

Strauss shot Hotchner a look.

You pursed your lips, then let out a soft, almost inaudible chuckle. 

“Is something funny, Miss Y/L/N?” Stauss asked.

“No ma’am,” you assured. “It’s just… I’m twenty-five. I enlisted the second I turned eighteen, and I served my country for 5 years. Uncle Sam is paying for my degree, which I couldn’t pursue earlier, because like I said, I was serving my country.”

“And like I said, your service is appreciated,” Strauss countered. “But -”

“I get it,” you cut her off, feeling suddenly confident. “There are probably better candidates out there, at least on paper. You can hire someone that’s worked in the FBI for years, who’s taken the proper classes to become a profiler. I get it — they’re less of a risk. But I’m good in a crisis. I’ve worked in emergency medicine for 7 years, and for 3 of those years, I was being shot at while practicing. I could ace any physical or psychological evaluation you throw my way. And, even though it doesn’t mean much, I’ve been profiling since before I could spell my own name. Maybe there are better candidates out there, I honestly don’t know. But what I do know is that I could be pretty damn amazing, if you give me the chance. ...Ma’am.”

_____________________

Spencer invited you over for the night, but you couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than the interview. 

“I mouthed off to her,” you said, running your hands through your hair. “God, I’m an idiot. I’m never getting the job.”

“Y/N, come lay down,” Spencer said. His back was against the backboard, the book he was reading now in his lap. 

“I can’t, I’m pacing,” you mumbled, continuing to walk around his bedroom. 

Spencer didn’t say anything; he put his book on the nightstand, pulled the covers back, walked over to you, and set you down on the bed. He sat behind you and began rubbing your shoulders. 

“You’re smart, you’re strong, good under pressure, and more than qualified,” he said. “You’ll get a call back. Just give it some time.” 

You leaned into his touch, letting yourself relax for the first time all day. “You’re right. I’m sorry I’ve been so crazy. I just… really want this. I’m terrified that I ruined things for myself.”

“I’m sure you did better than you think,” Spencer said softly. “Strauss puts up a strong front, but she’s not as bad as she seems. All she wants is someone who can do the job well and stay out of trouble.”

You leaned your back against his chest. “Thank you,” you whispered. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his lips into your shoulder. You set your hands over his. 

You weren’t sure when the two of you fell asleep; all you knew is that you fell asleep on top of Spencer’s chest with your face buried in his neck. Normally, upon waking up, you would savor the moment. But this morning, your ringing phone woke you up. 

Carefully moving as to not wake Spencer, you untangled yourself from bed and picked up your phone on the 3rd ring. 

“Hello?” you asked, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Y/N?” The voice asked. “It’s Aaron Hotchner.”

Any fatigue in your body left at that exact moment.

“Yes, Sir. Good morning,” you greeted.

“I just heard back from Erin Strauss. Are you able to start Monday?”

“Yes! Yes, absolutely.” 

“That’s good to hear. I’ll see you 8AM sharp come Monday.”

“Yes Sir. Thank you, Sir,” you said, before wishing him goodbye. 

You hung up the phone, squealed, and began to jump around. You were so absorbed in your own happiness that you didn’t hear Spencer stir awake. 

“Good news?” He asked sleepily. 

Beaming, you leaned down and kissed him. “Great news.” 

_____________________

Your day started with a lot of formalities — you sat in an office with the head of HR,  learning about uniforms, insurance, and retirement plans. Your uniform was easy compared to virtually everyone else in the BAU; you had to wear a garment stating your job as a paramedic at all times. This came in two easy forms: a t-shirt or a bomber jacket, both provided by the Bureau. Apparently, you’re supposed to stick out in a crowd. You wondered if it was a rule for all medical personnel in the FBI, or if Strauss had something to do with it. 

The HR manager was about to get into 401ks when the two of you were interrupted.

“Oh good, you’re still here,” a high, chipper voice said from the doorway. “Y/N, we need you for a briefing.” 

You turned around in your chair to see a blonde woman dressed in bright clothing. From what Spencer had told you about the team, you guessed it was the one and only Penelope Garcia. 

“Already?” you asked, then looked back to the HR manager.

“Y/N hasn’t had any training,” he said slowly. “Can’t the team wait until the next case?”

“Talk to SSA Hotchner,” Garcia stated simply. “Until then, the medical goddess is mine.” 

You turned back to the manager. He sighed in resignation.

“We’ll talk later,” he dismissed you.

You smiled professionally. “I look forward to it,” you said pleasantly before exiting the room behind Garcia. 

“You’ve seriously had no training?” Garcia asked in disbelief. Her heels clicked loudly on the floor as she walked.

“Not with the FBI, no,” you confirmed. “My training so far has come from different jobs.”

“Sorry honey, but that won’t get you a gun,” Garcia said. 

She stopped dead in her tracks, which caused you to almost run into her.  Garcia merely stuck out her hand.

“I’m Penelope Garcia, by the way. Technical Analyst, genius extraordinaire,” she said. 

“Oh, I know,” you chuckled, but shook her hand anyways. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She frowned. “How so?”

“Oh, Derek talked about you before my interview,” you quickly recovered. “I was nervous, so I asked if he could distract me. You were the first thing that came to his mind, I guess.”

She smiled widely. “My sweet, sweet boy,” she sighed blissfully, and continued walking.

Thank god Spencer told you all about Penelope and Derek’s flirty relationship. 

You followed Garcia into a room with a round table and a few TV screens close to the far wall. Almost all of the team was already sitting somewhere at the table. 

“Everyone, this is Y/N, the BAU’s newest beauty,” Penelope said. She patted your arm. “Take a seat, my dear.” 

You smiled shyly, sitting in the first empty chair. You ended up between Prentiss and Rossi. 

“Aren’t you supposed to start next week?” JJ asked curiously.

“Yes,” someone from behind you answered. Hotch walked into the room. “Plans changed. Garcia?”

Garcia picked up a remote on the table and pointed it to the screen. She began to hand out files. “So, this boy was found two hours ago in the middle of nowhere — well, technically he was found outside of Crawford, Arizona. My point is, he has clearly been to super hell and escaped some sort of captivity.”

“How do we know he wasn’t just dropped off?” Derek asked.

“He has fresh cuts on the bottom of his feet from the local cactus fields, and that's away from any through roads, and his skin is rubbed raw around his ankles from chains,” Garcia answered. She maintained her composure, but hints of disgust and sympathy showed through.

Derek nodded, looking at the photos in his file. “He must have had the chance to escape and took it.” 

“Or the UnSub could have  had him in transit,” Emily purposed.

You looked at the photos of the boy. They were absolutely heartbreaking. The boy shied away from the camera — only one of them caught his face, which was covered in grime and framed by ungroomed hair. His clothes were tattered, and the skin he had showing was covered in scars. You couldn’t imagine what that sick bastard put this boy through for years.

“Look at the whites of his eyes — he’s jaundiced,” you observed. “He hasn’t seen Sun in… awhile. Garcia, have they figured out the boy’s age?” 

“They don’t even know his name,” Garcia said sadly. “He hasn’t spoken yet. They’re lucky they got the pictures they did.” 

“Are there any missing children in the area, Garcia?” Spencer chimed in.

“None until now, but Sir, you may have more information than I do?”

“I do. Earlier tonight another boy was reported missing in Flagstaff,” Hotch confirmed. 

“That’s not far — can’t be a coincidence,” JJ said.

“Technically it could, but Arizona has the lowest abduction rate in the country, so the chances of these cases not being related are ridiculously slim,” Spencer replied nonchalantly. 

“This is a child abduction case?” you asked, startled. “What do you need me for?”

“I’ll tell you on the jet. We need to get moving — every second is crucial. Wheels up in 15,” Hotch said, then dismissed himself from the room. 

Per Spencer’s advice, you packed a go-bag the day you got a phone call saying you were accepted. He kept yours at his desk, ‘just in case’ you needed it before you had a desk of your own. You’d have to thank him for that later.

You learned on the plane ride that you’d be working with the boy who escaped. As Garcia briefly mentioned, local law enforcement and even hospital staff had yet to break ground with him. It would be yours and Spencer’s duty to change that. 

You wanted to ask why you were needed again, but the answer eventually came to you: Hotch, or someone else on the team, thought you’d bond with him. Considering they knew almost nothing about you, they probably thought you’d bond over trauma. 

A thorough background check is done on anyone and everyone that has even the slightest bit of interest in joining the FBI. You understood that. You accepted that. But you knew the hacking abilities Garcia was capable of, and thanks to Spencer, you knew how protective she was of the team. That woman probably dug up some of your darkest moments, put screenshots in an email, and sent it to her boss like it was an everyday occurrence. Hotchner probably knew everything you went through overseas: the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

He knew you’d find a way to connect with the survivor. 

Hotch gave you a change of clothes on the plane; it consisted of a black t-shirt with the FBI decal as the left chest logo and ‘Paramedic’ written in big, white letters on the back. He also gave you a navy blue bomber jacket that, in terms of lettering, looked exactly like your shirt. You decided to leave the jacket off when you went to the hospital.

“You can’t examine his scars?” Spencer asked as the two of you followed the survivor’s doctor down the hall. 

“I can’t get close enough,” he corrected. “He has the most severe case of CER I’ve ever seen.”

“Conditioned Emotional Response,” you and Spencer said simultaneously. 

The doctor turned around for a brief moment. “You guys did your homework,” he remarked. 

“People experience and impose conditioned emotional responses almost every day,” Spencer continued. “In normal settings, CER is emotional discipline, or cause and effect. For example, if someone develops a fear of dogs after being bitten by one, that fear is a conditioned emotional response. After years of abuse, trauma, or toture, CER can be worse than PTSD.”

“He’s afraid of light and sound,” The doctor agreed. “We’re keeping it as dark and quiet for him as possible. He’s also been somewhere crammed — his legs show signs of advanced arthritis.” 

“Any idea how old he is?” You asked.

“It’s hard to tell. He has major skin and tooth decay, probably caused by the massive vitamin D deficiency.”

The doctor stopped walking when the three of you came to a door that was guarded by a police officer. 

“Best guess?” you pushed.

He sighed. “Maybe sixteen.”

“Thank you,” you told him, and he nodded before walking off. 

Spencer flashed his badge to the police officer in front of the door, and just like that, the two of you were let in. You clicked a button on the wall beside the officer, which opened the room’s automatic door. You followed Spencer inside.

The blinds drawn shut, and all medical gear in the room was turned off. The bed was empty, and the food on the tray was left untouched. You scanned the room, and eventually, you found the boy — he was curled up under the table in the corner of the room. You pulled the curtain in front of the door shut before approaching him. 

“Hey,” you said softly, crouching down on your knees. You kept a decent distance. “My name is Y/N, and this is my friend, Spencer.”

Spencer crouched beside you, offering him a wave. “Hello.” 

He cowered away, trying to make himself smaller. 

“We’re the good guys,” you promised, then paused. “Is it okay if I hang out with you for awhile?”

He didn’t respond, which you fully expected. Asking to stay wasn’t a formal request of yours; mostly, you wanted to silently show that he was allowed to be in control of some things.

You looked up at the stand, which held a plate full of fruit, an energy drink, and a bottle of water. Everything appeared untouched. You turned back to the boy, then briefly stood up to grab the water. 

“You must be thirsty,” you said, crouching back down. “Want some water?” 

You extended your arm, offering him the bottle. He swatted it out of your hand and across the room before backing up into the corner again.

“Okay, it’s okay,” you said gently, backing away to give him some more space.

“This is years of conditioning,” Spencer murmured. “I’ll go tell Garcia to expand the search.”

“Good idea,” you agreed. 

Spencer walked out, and with that, it was just you and the boy. 

You picked up the water bottle and sat against the foot of the bed. You let silence fill the room, hoping your lack of sound and movement would assure him you were nothing to fear. 

After awhile, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a quarter. You began rolling it across your fingers, stopping when the coin was wedged between your pinkie and ring finger. Then, you started over, and rolled it across your fingers again. You’d been practicing the trick for awhile: basically since you and Spencer met. It wasn’t his ‘disappearing’ trick, but it was fairly easy to learn and execute.

You eventually looked up to see the boy staring at you. He was still under the table, but his body wasn’t facing the wall anymore. You smiled softly and rolled the quarter across the floor. 

The boy laid it flat on the ground.

“I know you’re scared,” you said quietly. “You were taken away from your home and put in a place you didn’t feel safe. You spent the first few days scared out of your mind, wondering when he was going to just get it over with and kill you. Eventually, though, you realized he didn’t want to kill you — you didn’t know what he wanted. That scared you even more.” 

He stared at the quarter, but you had a feeling he was listening to you, not just hearing you.

“I know you think he can still hurt you, that he’s standing right outside that door,” you continued. “He isn’t. And even if he was, he’d have to go through me before he could get to you. No way would I let that happen.” 

The boy picked up the quarter and looked at it. Then, he rolled it out from under the table, and back to you. 

You picked it up before it could hit the ground. A small smile crossed your face. 

Slowly, over what you guessed was an hour, the boy made baby steps. Eventually, he began to move out from under the table. Once he sat across from you, no table or wall as his shield, you were able to turn on the overhead lights. He still had an aversion to sunlight, but you decided not to worry about that for the moment. 

You and the boy took turns with the coin, rolling it back to the other person when you were finished. You showed him a few hints and tricks on how to roll the quarter across his fingers, all without actually touching him. 

You caught movement in the corner of your eye. Spencer stood in the doorway.

The boy slowly scooted over. You stuck out your hand in reassurance. “It’s okay,” you promised. 

He sat still.

Spencer entered the room, taking a seat in the chair behind where you sat on the floor. 

“What did Garcia find out?” you asked Spencer. 

“She broadened her search, but there’s no one that matches his description,” Spencer replied, tone hushed. 

“Someone has to be missing this kid,” you said. 

Then, an alarm in the hallway went off.

The boy immediately scrambled across the floor, frantically making his way back under the table.

“No, no, no, that’s not for us,” you said, reaching out instinctively. “That’s for the doctors outside. It’s for the doctors, not us.”

Sure enough, an automated voice called ‘code blue’.

“It’s alright. It’s okay,” you said. 

He peeked his head out.

“It’s not for us,” you repeated. “Okay? You can come back out. I promise.”

He slowly made his way back over to you.

“There you go. That’s it,” you praised. You reached your hand out, holding the quarter. “Take it.” 

He took it quickly, covering it with his freehand.

“There you go.”

You sighed, turning your head to Spencer. “I got him to nod, but that’s about it.”

“And you asked him his name?” Spencer questioned.

You nodded. 

“Have you tried Spanish?”

“The language doesn’t matter if he won’t talk,” you spoke.

Spencer moved from the chair to the floor space beside you. “Mi nombre es Spencer,” Spencer said. “como te llama?”

Silence.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” You asked gently.

Once again, nothing.

“Can I see what you have there?” Spencer asked, a small smile on his face.

The boy stuck out the coin.

“Wow. Do you like eagles?” He asked.

The boy pointed to the wings.

“Yeah, the wings are beautiful, aren’t they?” Spencer agreed.

He reached up and touched his back. He pointed to the wings again.

“Wings?” Spencer frowned. “You have… wings, on your back?”

It clicked in your brain. “Angel?”

The boy looked at you.

“Is your name Angel?” You asked. 

Angel smiled.

_____________________

Part 4

Notes: Let me know what you think! Comments keep me motivated to write xo

[eddiesasspbrak]

When I’m With You Ch. 3

Eddie can't stand the barista at his favorite coffee shop. Richie has fallen in love with the man he sees twice a week. Stan is dating someone but won't let his friends meet them. Ben is in love with Beverly, but is so afraid of scaring her away he's not moving forward. Chaotic friends navigating college together.

Ch. 1

Ch. 4

Read on AO3

5k+ words

When Eddie signed up for classes, he made sure that he had Monday’s free. Especially since he’d signed up for such an early class that met twice a week. Tuesdays and Thursdays, he had the early class with Ben. Tuesday-Wednesdays he had different afternoon classes, sharing the Thursday class with Bev. His Wednesday class was in the same building as Stan’s and they usually met up for lunch beforehand and walked together. Mondays though, they were for him. It also meant he got a four-day weekend, which was just fantastic.

Ben and Stan both had Monday classes and he didn’t expect to hear from either of them until the following day. He thought he’d spend the day cleaning as he hadn’t properly cleaned for a few days. He wiped down the counters in the kitchen, putting away things he’d pulled out and left out. He stripped his bedding and took it down to the laundry room. He knew exactly how long the washer and dryer both took so he could set a timer and be back before someone messed with his stuff. While his bedding was in the wash, he swept and vacuumed. He made himself a grilled cheese for lunch and washed the dishes and wiped down the stove when he was done. He decided this was a good chance to also wash his clothing. Using the laundry room during the afternoon on a Monday was perfect as most people saved it for the weekends and evenings.

Spending the day doing chores wasn’t viewed as fun for some, but having everything clean, fresh and organized eased his anxiety. He was sat folding his laundry, the TV on in the background. Everything was quiet. Occasionally he’d hear a door close, someone walking down the hall or the elevator doors opening and closing. It was typical noise in an apartment building for this time of day and he was able to block most of it out easily.

What he couldn’t block out was when a door down the hall slammed, followed by thumping footsteps and yelling. It started a few doors down and grew closer, finally stopping as they reached Eddie’s door. He reached for his remote and muted the TV, listening to see what was going on. Finally, a knock sounded at his door.

Part of him was worried. The reasons someone would be outside his door yelling and knocking on his door were vast. There could be a fire in the building, they could have locked themselves out and need to use a phone, or they could be angry at him for something and be coming to beat him up or kill him. He kept to himself. Didn’t really know his neighbors other than the older woman who lived directly across from him. They often got home at the same time and sometimes she’d share her leftovers with him if she cooked too much. He knew it couldn’t be her.

Warily, Eddie headed to his door and looked out the peephole. Whoever it was, was looking down so all he could see was a mess of black hair on the other side. Gripping his phone tightly in one hand, just in case, and feeling anxious, he opened the door a bit and peeked out.

“Yes?” He asked the stranger.

At the door opening and the sound of his voice, the person looked up and Eddie just about choked on his own breath.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He asked, unsure if he should be angry or just annoyed.

“Eddie.” Richie was just as shocked as he was. “Is this your place?” He asked.

“Didn’t you already know that? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“No. I live down the hall. This is crazy. Have you been my neighbor this whole time?” He grinned.

“I guess. If you didn’t know I lived here, then what do you want?”

His smile fell away instantly, and he winced. “Right. See, I have a pet and she escaped.”

“I thought this building didn’t allow pets.”

“Oh, they do as long as it lives in a cage.”

“Ok. So, what do you need from me?”

“Well, she’s small and she kind of…went under your door.”

The hairs on Eddie’s arms stood up as a sudden shiver overtook him. “What kind of pet did you say you have?” He asked, scared of the answer.

“A mouse.”

At that, Eddie’s eyes opened wide. A mouse. A mouse was loose in his apartment and it was all Richie’s fault. As if the new knowledge that they lived down the hall from one another wasn’t bad enough. He opened the door more fully and turned to scan his apartment. He didn’t see any movement, hadn’t even seen her when she crawled under the door.

“Are you telling me, there is vermin in my apartment right now?” Eddie’s voice shook as he spoke, and he resisted the urge to gag.

“I mean, I wouldn’t call her that, but I guess. She’s sweet, just mischievous. She’s probably under your couch or something. Can I come in and look for her?”

“Well, I’m not going to!” Eddie said, horrified.

Richie had an almost apologetic look on his face as he entered the apartment. He dropped to his knees beside the couch and looked underneath. Eddie watched for a moment only to realize he was opening staring at Richie’s ass. Which was not something he wanted to do at all. He found himself looking at anything not in the general vicinity of the other man or his ass. After not seeing her under the couch, he crawled over to the chair to look beneath it as well.

“I’m not seeing her. Do you have crackers or something?” Richie asked, looking up at Eddie, who finally looked back at him.

Eddie sighed and rolled his eyes as he went to the kitchen to retrieve the crackers he had left from the other day. Richie stayed in the living room to look under the TV stand against the wall. He was standing to head to look in the coat closet when he heard a yell in the kitchen followed by a crash. Startled, Richie ran to the kitchen and found Eddie sitting on his counter, the half sleeve of crackers in his hands, the single stool knocked over on its side in his hurry to get atop the counter.

“What are you doing?” Richie asked, laughing.

“Your pet just ran across my foot!” He shouted, pointing near the fridge.

Richie went over to the fridge and looked into the small space between it and the counter. Sure enough, there she was. He turned back to Eddie with a grin.

“Found her. Toss me a cracker.” He said.

Eddie stayed on the counter and threw the entire sleeve of crackers at him, a little angrily and hoping to hit him. He was slightly satisfied when the packet smacked against his shoulder and fell to the ground. Richie pulled out a cracker and slid it between the counter and fridge with his fingers. Her nose wiggled as she sniffed and slowly moved forward to investigate. As she got close, Richie began pulling the cracker back until he lured her out into the open. He gently scooped her up in his hand, holding the cracker out to her.

“There we go. Good girl.” He crossed the room and smiled up at Eddie. “This is Penny.” He held Penny out to Eddie, and he leaned away.

“I do not want to meet Penny.” Eddie said, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“But she’s so sweet. Sometimes she climbs up my arm and sleeps on my shoulder. She likes it because it’s warm against my neck.”

“That’s so gross. Mice are dirty and they poop everywhere.”

Richie looked at him like he was crazy, still smiling. “She’s not dirty, Eds. Penny here is way easier to take care of than a dog or cat. Her poop is small, I just have to clean out her habitat from time to time.”

Eddie shook his head, keeping his eyes on the mouse. “I would like for Penny to leave now before she attracts any of her friends.”

“You’re such a dork.” Richie reached out with his free hand and ruffled Eddie’s hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, yea?” He asked.

“If I’m not too traumatized tomorrow to go to class, then I guess so.” Eddie carefully climbed down from the counter and righted the fallen stool. He escorted Richie and Penny to the door, keeping a distance from her.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow, my dear.” Richie shot him one more crooked grin before exiting through the door Eddie had opened for him and heading back down the hall.

Eddie closed the door and shuddered, gagging slightly. He suddenly felt the need to wash his hands and, after locking the door, rushed to the bathroom. He turned the hot water on and scrubbed his hands until they felt clean enough. While drying his hands, he looked up into the mirror and saw how messy Richie had left his hair. He sighed and smoothed it back down. He hadn’t even been tracking how he’d let the other man touch him so casually. After touching a mouse. Yea, ok, he was going to need to shower and wash his hair now.

*

“He has my phone number, Ben. And now I he knows I live down the hall. I will never know peace again!” Eddie put his head on the table and stretched his arms out in front of him.

“It’s not that bad, Eddie. He seemed like a nice guy when we all went out. He was pretty funny too.” Ben said, rubbing Eddie’s back in attempt to comfort him.

“He is not funny. He is the farthest thing from funny. He’s annoying. It’s only the fourth day since he started texting me and I’m about to lose my mind. He sends me endless memes and most of them I don’t even get.” Eddie turned his head to the side to look at Ben. “He can show up at my home whenever he wants to now and I’m powerless to stop it. Oh God, I’m going to have to move.”

Ben couldn’t help but chuckle at the horrified look on Eddie’s face. “You don’t have to move. Between work, school and socializing, he’s probably hardly at home anyway. I mean, this is the first time you’ve run into him, right?”

“That’s true. He’s probably lived there for a while and I’ve never seen him on the elevator or getting my mail or just like out in the hall or on the street. I just can’t stand him, Ben.”

“I know, buddy. Just ignore him and he’ll eventually get the hint.”

Eddie sat up as their professor called for attention. He had a hard time focusing during the lecture. He’d barely slept the night before, constantly worried that the mouse would appear again. He was so tired he felt himself nodding off a few times. He needed coffee more than anything and it was the last place he wanted to go after his eventful long weekend. After class, he begged Ben to go with him, but he had made plans to meet with his project partners from another class. He told him to be brave and left him. Again. Eddie was really starting to rethink his friendship with someone who kept leaving him with a guy he hated. Of course, he could never actually stop talking to Ben.

He dragged his feet as he made his way to the café. When the shop was in sight, he stopped and made a mental note to find another convenient place to get coffee near campus. If he was going to be forced to see Richie, now that they both knew they were friends with Bev and the whole being neighbors thing, he was going to make sure he saw him as little as possible. Taking a deep breath, he trudged the last couple of feet to the shop and pushed the door open. The line was fairly short, and he tried to hide behind the guy in front of him.

He didn’t hear the usual loud ruckus up at the counter, so he stole a peek around the guy he was hiding behind and saw a guy he didn’t know at the counter. He didn’t see Richie at all. Mike, who he’d kind of met last time, was making the drinks as he always was on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Richie wasn’t in sight. Eddie smiled and did a little cheer inside his head. He couldn’t help thinking that he must have gotten some kind of disease from his mouse. He was probably sick in bed or in the hospital, wishing he’d listened to Eddie when he told him that the mouse was dirty. He wasn’t at all worried about the other man or the fact that he had seemed find yesterday.

He stood taller, no longer trying to hide as the line moved forward. There were only two people left in front of him when the door to their back kitchen opened and Richie came out, his apron dusted with flour. He held a tray of muffins in his hands and Eddie watched as he carried them to the glass case and slid them into place. Crouched down behind the glass case, Richie looked up and their eyes met. Eddie quickly looked away, feeling stupid for staring at him in the first place. He’d just never seen him come from the back before. He was always at the register when Eddie came in. He hadn’t been expecting to see him after not seeing him at the counter and his heart was only racing because of the shock.

Richie stood up, a smile already on his face. “I see you survived your meeting with Penny. Not too traumatized then.” He leaned against the back of the case, crossing his arms over the top of it.

“Barely. I’m only here because I couldn’t sleep after that encounter.” Eddie said, refusing to look at him.

Eddie’s turn came then and he stepped out to the counter, turning a smile to the guy at the register. Richie appeared beside him, throwing his arm around the guy’s shoulders.

“Hey, what did I say about cheating on me?” Richie asked.

“What the hell are you talking about? The coffee is still from here even if you don’t take my order.” Eddie’s smile fell away, annoyed that he hadn’t thought to comment on how he’d already had coffee elsewhere that week. And that he could not cheat on a someone he was not dating.

“I’m not talking about the coffee this time. You never smile at me. How come Bill got a smile?”

“Because I don’t hate him.”

Richie put a hand to his chest. “I’m hurt, Eddie. Absolutely destroyed. I’m a much better person than Bill.”

Bill, as Eddie gathered, pushed Richie away with a hand to his face. “So, you’re Eddie.” He said.

“Uh, yea.” Eddie said, suddenly feeling nervous. He didn’t remember ever meeting him before now and wondered if he’d just forgotten him.

“Nice to finally put a face to the n-n-name. Richie never shuts up ab-bout you.”

Eddie looked to Richie and couldn’t ignore the light flush he saw on his cheeks. Why was he embarrassed? And why did he talk about Eddie when he wasn’t there? That just made him feel uncomfortable and his stomach did a weird little flip as he felt heat rising up his neck. He imagined Richie sitting around with his coworkers, talking about him the way he talked to Ben about Richie. Well, it wouldn’t be exactly the same. Richie actually seemed to like Eddie, so who knew what he was saying to his friends when he wasn’t around.

“We’re…neighbors.” Eddie said, looking back to Bill.

“Yea, I heard f-first thing this morning. He s-said you met P-Penny.”

“Unfortunately.”

Bill smiled in amusement. “Well, Eddie, w-what can I get for you?”

“I’ll have-.”

“No! Wait!” Richie yelled, finally speaking again and shocking both of the other men. “Don’t take his order. He’ll just hate it anyway. I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night. It’s cool if you don’t want to drink your calories or whatever, but what about something with sugar free syrup?”

“Artificial sweeteners are supposed to be really terrible for you.” He frowned.

“Not in moderation, my dear. Why not give it a try and if you hate it, I’ll buy your coffee.”

That was the second time in less than a week that Richie offered to treat him to something. Even if the first time had fallen through. Not that he cared. Missing out on the chance to eat pie at 1am with Richie was a good thing. Right? Still, if he could get out of paying for a coffee, why not agree?

“Fine. Don’t make it too sweet though. And no hazelnut. I’m allergic.”

Richie grinned and moved to join Mike. Eddie stepped aside as another customer entered the shop and waited. He’d never actually seen Richie make a drink before. Mike was always zipping around making different drinks of varying difficulty, but he’d only ever seen Richie pour plain black coffee. He actually seemed to know what he was doing. Go figure. He’d always assumed they put him at the register because it was the only thing he was good at. Then again, his personality wasn’t easy to get along with, so he wasn’t too great at that job either. Now, he saw him coming from the kitchen seemingly having been baking, and he was making some kind of complicated concoction. He kept surprising him, which wasn’t always good.

Richie finally came over, his grin back in place, as he placed the drink down in front of Eddie and leaned against the counter, expectantly.

“Give it a try, Eds.” He said, excited.

“I’ve told you not to call me that.” He grumbled, taking a whiff of the caffeinated beverage before placing to cup to his lips. He carefully took a sip of the hot liquid and hated that it actually tasted good.

“Well?”

“It’s…ok. Not terrible.”

“So, you like it then?” Richie’s smile grew.

“I didn’t say that.”

Richie ignored him. “It’s a new drink I whipped up just for you. We’ll put it on the menu and call it ‘the fanny pack’.”

“Sweet Jesus, please do not.”

“Too late. It’s already done.”

“It’s literally not. You just came up with that.”

“Don’t know what to tell you, Eds.” Richie shrugged.

Eddie sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes, fending off the impending headache that was bound to hit any second. Bill and Mike were both laughing, seemingly enjoying their back and forth. It was just like Friday night when Beverly and Ben kept laughing at their endless bickering. Suddenly remembering that Richie was Beverly’s friend and seemed to know her better than he did, he begrudgingly continued their conversation.

“Are you going to Bev’s party?” Eddie asked, taking another sip of coffee.

Richie’s eyes widened in shock. “Yea. Of course. Are you?”

“She invited me. I have to go for Ben. We’re going shopping tomorrow to find gifts for her. What does she like?”

Richie deflated a little bit, as if he’d been expecting him to ask something else entirely. He put his arms on the counter and leaned forward, blowing air up toward the hair that was hanging in front of his face. It fluttered and then fell right back over top of his glasses where it had been before.

“She likes clothes, games, coffee mugs. She also likes 80s boy bands.”

“Which 80s boy bands?”

“I don’t know. Do I look like I know the names of 80s boy bands?”

“Yes.” Bill said with a laugh, earning a rude gesture aimed his way.

“Ben likes some of them too. It might be a good talking point for them if he gets her a gift related to it. That was actually helpful. Thank you.”

Richie seemed surprised by the gratitude and his smile returned in full force. “No problem.”

“Anything else she’s into in case that doesn’t work out?”

Richie shrugged. “Whenever I shop for her, I usually just look around until I see something I know she’ll like. They’re a hit 100% of the time.”

“That’s less helpful.”

Mike inserted himself into the conversation and patted Richie on the shoulder with a heavy hand. “Why don’t you just go with him tomorrow? Help him find something.”

“Uh…” Eddie said, not wanting to sound rude but also really not wanting that to happen.

“I’d be down for that.” Richie said, positively glowing.

“I guess…to help Ben.” Eddie said. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to see Beverly had sent him a text. “Speak of the devil.”

Bev: Hey, do you have some time before your class? I need to talk to you about something

Eddie: Yea. Where?

Bev: The union?

Eddie: K. Off campus. Be there soon.

“Bev or Ben?” Richie asked, still watching him.

“Bev. She needs me. I have to go.”

“Oh, wait. Take her a coffee. She loves my random concoctions.”

Eddie was glad for the escape from the conversation, but he stood and waited anyway. He couldn’t tell her tone from the text, but he worried something might be wrong. If a custom drink order would make her happy, then he had to stand here with Richie and wait. For Bev. A minute later, Richie was handing him the drink.

“Wait, shit, I didn’t pay for this.” He said, holding up his own drink.

“Don’t worry about it. You didn’t love it, so it’s on me.” Richie winked.

“No…that wasn’t…”

“It’s fine. Bev is waiting.”

Eddie just kind of nodded awkwardly as he turned and headed to the door. He juggled both drinks carefully so he could pull the door open. He’d have to tell them later that it made more sense for the door to open out onto the street, so people leaving with full hands could shoulder the door open instead. He looked back in the window and saw Richie watching him with a dopey smile on his face, his hand raised in a wave, and Eddie hurried out of sight.

*

Eddie arrived at the student union, his coffee almost gone and Bev’s cooling rapidly. She’d probably have to pop it in one of the communal microwaves to reheat it. He walked amongst the tables, crowded with students eating an early lunch, or late breakfast depending on how you looked at it. He finally spotted her ginger hair at a table near the windows and picked up his pace.

She spotted him before he reached the table and smiled at him. She seemed in good spirits at least. Eddie sat across from her and placed her drink in front of her. She picked it up and eyed the logo on the cup.

“What is it?” She asked.

“I have no idea. Richie made it and told me to give it to you.”

“Ah.” She said, taking a big gulp without smelling it first. “He never fails to impress me.” She sighed, seemingly liking it.

“Sorry if it’s cold. It’s freezing out there today.”

“No, it’s fine.”

Eddie took a sip of his own rapidly cooling drink and watched her face for a moment. She’d seemed happy when he arrived, happy about the drink, but her features were slowly softening. She almost looked a little worried. Eddie still didn’t feel like he knew her that well, but they’d connected instantly when they’d met at a party the previous semester. It was Halloween, she was dressed as a generic witch and Eddie, forced by Ben when he insisted he wasn’t dressing up, was a black cat. She’d come over, already drunk, and made a joke about witch familiars and spent the night dragging him along with her. She was funny and charming, even when drunk, and Eddie agreed to swap phone numbers at the end of the night. Their friendship had blossomed from there rather quickly.

“So…” She finally said, setting her coffee down but keeping her hands wrapped around it. “Ben likes me, right?”

Eddie took another long sip of his drink, not knowing how to respond. Obviously, Ben did like her, and he’d confided in him that they’d kissed, but could he tell her that? He really wasn’t good at this whole relationship talk thing, unless it was with Ben and Stan. He didn’t know how much he was allowed to say in these situations.

“Yea. Totally. Ben likes you.” He said in a tone of voice that could mean friendship if it needed to.

“Are you sure? Did he tell you what happened?”

“No.” Eddie lied, trying to seem curious.

“After we left the other night, sorry about that by the way, we hung out for a while and I kissed him.”

“Really? You guys kissed? I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.”

Eddie wasn’t the best actor or liar, but Bev seemed too distracted to notice. Her thumbs peeled at the cardboard sleeve on the cup, surely a nervous habit.

“Yea…he didn’t seem to hate it. He held my hand and walked me back home, but then I tried to get him to come in for a bit and he said no.”

Ok, that part Eddie really didn’t know. “Wait, he actually said no?”

“Well, I mean, I asked if he wanted to come in for coffee. Which, like, everyone knows is code for come in and get some.”

“Sure.”

“And he was like ‘but we just had coffee’. Which, yea we had but that’s not what I was actually asking. I told him we could have more coffee and he goes, ‘nah, I should probably go home and sleep’. Then he kissed me on my forehead and left.”

Eddie could not believe the stupidity and naivety of his dear friend. When he’d told Eddie he’d kissed her at her door, he’d assumed he meant on the lips. Not on the forehead. That was the kind of kiss you got from your grandmother when saying goodbye. Not the guy you’re interested in. Eddie had to physically stop himself from slapping his forehead with his own hand.

“Ben is such a fucking idiot.” Eddie sighed.

“I just don’t think he likes me. I kissed him and he made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t see me like that.” Beverly’s frown was enough to break Eddie’s heart. He’d tried to stay out of it for the most part, not talking to her about it all. But he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“Bev, he’s crazy about you. He’s just really, really stupid.” Eddie reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “Well, not stupid, I guess. Just stupidly respectful.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s not the kind of guy to come in for coffee. At least not after the first kiss. It’s something he definitely wants to do, believe me. If he weren’t so worried about you hating him, he would have been all over that.” Eddie gestured with his hand to Beverly’s whole being and she smiled.

“But he hasn’t texted me since then. I asked him if you guys were coming to the party and he just said ‘yes’ back. Nothing else.”

“And it probably took him twenty minutes to work up the courage to send that. Our, dear sweet Ben has the brain of a baby bird and is just as cute. Basically, you need to be really straight forward with him. Tell him you like him, and I guarantee, he will turn into a blathering, blushing fool and pronounce his undying love.”

Bev’s smile was wide, and she squeezed Eddie’s hand. “Alright. Thursday. I’ll tell him and if you’re wrong and he doesn’t like me, you’re getting wasted with me.”

“Deal.” Eddie smiled, knowing good and well that he wasn’t wrong.

They sat in a comfortable silence and let a few moments pass, drinking their coffees and watching the people around them. Their hands were still clasped in the middle of the table. They probably looked like a couple to outsiders and that thought made Eddie laugh. Beverly was gorgeous, but she wasn’t his type being a girl and all.

While Eddie was observing the people around him, he thought he saw Stan in the crowd, thought their eyes met and then a second later he was gone. Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed together, and he leaned to the side to try and see where he had disappeared to, but he didn’t see him anymore. There wasn’t any reason for Stan to be avoiding him, though he had been hard to track down since he started dating this mystery person. Eddie would have to ask him the following day at lunch about it. Maybe he could finally get an answer out of him about the person he was hiding from his friends.

“So, Eddie.” Bev said, snapping his attention back to her. “How is your love life? Maybe I can return the advice.”

“What love life?” Eddie breathed out a bitter laugh. “I haven’t seen any action in months.”

“Isn’t there anyone you’re interested in?”

“Not really. I’ve seen some hot guys around campus but none worth pursuing. Also, guys don’t exactly walk around with signs on their shirts saying if they’re gay or not.”

“I have some gay friends I could introduce you to. If you want.” Bev took a sip from her coffee, raising her eyebrows at Eddie over the top of the cup.

“Really? Who?”

“Richie.”

Eddie laughed louder than he meant to and quickly covered his mouth when he earned a few looked from those nearby.

“Yea…not gonna happen.” Eddie said with a smile.

“Why not? Richie’s cute.”

“And annoying beyond belief. Thanks for giving him my number, by the way. He won’t stop sending me outdated memes at three in the morning.”

“He asked for it. I couldn’t exactly say no.”

“You could have texted me to ask and let me say no.”

“Too many steps. Besides, just because they’re outdated doesn’t mean they aren’t funny.”

“That man is not funny.” Eddie said for the second time that day. “Did you know we live in the same building?”

“Seriously? No, he didn’t tell me. What the hell.”

“Yea. Right down the hall too. We just found out yesterday.”

“Damn. That’s convenient.”

“How? In what way is living so close to him convenient?”

“His baking, duh.”

Eddie gave her a confused look. Sure, he’d seen him seemingly having just been baking back at the café, but he didn’t figure he’d be baking at home when he had to do it for work. He just couldn’t picture Richie at home with an apron on, covered in flour and mixing up a batch of cookies. His cup now empty, he leaned over and dropped it into the nearby trashcan, turning back to her when he was done.

“I still don’t get it.” He said, sitting back in his seat.

“He likes to bake and give treats to the people he likes. He’s the sole reason for my freshman fifteen with cookies and brownies and cakes. Oh God, I’m so hungry.”

Eddie chuckled as she wiped imaginary drool from her chin. “I didn’t know he could bake.”

“Have you ever eaten a pastry from the café?” She asked, holding her cup up. “He makes all of that shit and it’s so good.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Next time. You have to. Though, before spending money on anything maybe just wait and see if he comes over with a plate of something. I know he does it all the time with other neighbors.”

“That’s so stupidly adorable.” Eddie laughed, though his smile faltered when he saw the look Bev was giving him. “What?”

“You just called him adorable.”

“No. I did not. I called what he was doing adorable. And stupid.”

Eddie didn’t like the look she was giving him, but he didn’t want to protest anymore, lest she think that he actually liked that guy. He would be stupid and blind if he didn’t recognize that yea, Richie was attractive. Of course, he was. His dopey, crooked smile that stretched across his cheeks. His curly, floppy hair that seemed to have a mind of its own. His pretty eyes that were somehow enhanced by his obnoxiously big glasses. Eddie had thought he was good looking the first time he saw him behind the counter at the café. It was his personality that made him not want him. His annoying jokes and stupid teasing at Eddie’s expense. He could barely stand to be around him for the short amount of time it took to get a coffee order. He did not like Richie, and he never would.

[nycrunning]

well, August is always a good month because of SUMMER STREETS, literally, I should be hired by the Summer Streets People because I feel like a community evangelizer. That is all I talk about to anyone all year long. You know it. Anyway, to recap: I like Summer Streets. A bit. If you just met me or this is the first time you read this blog, Summer Streets happens 3 weekends in August, on Saturdays: they close traffic on Park Avenue in the Upper East Side all the way to the Brooklyn Bridge, for 5 hours. It’s MAGIC.

If you missed it, shame on you (and, how are we friends???). If you never heard of it, pen it in for next year and don’t make vacation plans or don’t say yes to weddings. If you don’t live in NYC, get tickets now. 

So, Summer Streets was awesome, even though it RAINED ALL THREE SATURDAYS as you can see in the pictures (ugh) and we have to chop one run short because there was lightning, thunderstorm and flash flooding (but mostly because with all that water I couldn’t keep my contacts inside my eyes…!). It was still awesome. 

The day after the first Summer Streets, July something, a Sunday, I run the NYRR Manhattan Mile, a new race and a distance I’ve never run. So, automatic PR you say? Meh I don’t count those, but I WILL COUNT THE NEXT TIME I RUN THIS DISTANCE because I run it as slow AF. So, here we go: I have a bum knee. It’s not chondromalacia patellae, it’s not ITBS, I’ve ruled out a lot of things but it’s just weird because it hurts VERY randomly. AND, if I take time off, it hurts more. Go figure that one out. Good luck. Anyway, that day my knee was hurting so I struggled to finish. It was also like one hundred million degrees celsius/fahrenheit. 

Luckily I had Jackie, Michael and Brian to not only keep me company but throw power boosts at me during the last mile where they all decided to pick it up and I was just not into it. Aw, friends that throw stuff at you while you want to curl and cry are the BEST! ❤ I guess.

HA.

The next weekend was another combo of Summer Streets and a race. This time I attempted to do two races on Sunday and it didn’t work out AT ALL. I wanted to do the France Run, a 5 miler in Central Park at 8, and then scoot out to Williamsburg (in Brooklyn, for all my international readers! This Wsburg is in BK, not Colonial Pennsylvania, as I had to be told a few times in my first years in NYC coming from Philly!!!) (where was I?) then scoot out to Williamsburg to race the Brooklyn Mile. My heat was at 9:30 am. Possible?? Not really. What was I thinking? Not only David and I run France Run as slow as we possibly could without bursting into a walk spider-crawl, BUT we then proceeded to be extra stooopid fun after we finished and pretend talk in French and rename everything. We then also decided, while it rained, to taste and eat all the French things they had… chocolate, financiers, it was good… oooops, it’s 9:30! CRAP. And the truth is, I wasn’t in any shape to race a mile. My knee agreed (probably).

The last weekend of August (am I missing one???) it was a doubleheader. I did the Percy Sutton 5K in Harlem on Saturday and the Henry Isola 4 Mile XC in Van Cortlandt, Bronx, on Sunday. Who knew I could handle it? The knee was stoopid all week so I run to the 5K with Kettia and David SUPER slow, like 11 pace and was thinking to maybe cheer. I felt 100% pain-free so I decided to race. It was slow (23:06 It think, 7:24 pace) well, yes, I haven’t done anything hard in 2 months so I couldn’t expect much more but I felt good and that is all I cared about. Plus it was fun. We met lots of people, Frankie run me in, we had an hour-long stop on the run back… it was all shit and giggles, the way a race morning should be (to me, don’t judge!).

We run back. I ended up with like 10 miles… then… the next day, cause I felt ok… (who feels ok the day after a 5k?) I decided to run to the Bronx to run the Henry Isola 4 miler. It’s in the trails and it’s cross country. Ummmmmmm I was an XC virgin and had NO IDEA what I was doing. I didn’t even know why my age and gender was on my bib! Or how we all run on the grass and not the path…? it was all so weird. So, I’ve done trail races, like ultras, or like Bear Mountain 50K, or stuff like that. But this was SOOO DIFFERENT. Fast but also trails, crazy. Anyway, I run to the Bronx, got there at 8 am, race was starting at 9 and it was SO BURNING HOT already… I started feeling all the heatnessticity before we even started. It’s a smaller race than the typical NYRR race, like a LOT smaller. 40% of it were we out of the trails and in THE SUN. The last loop was hard and I won’t admit this to myself but there’s a chance I didn’t negative split this race. It was still great though (if can call walking up Cemetery Hill twice because your legs can’t run up, then yes it was great).

I think you can tell how HOT it was. Maybe by the sun situation, or my sweat situation, or maybe becase my hair is fried. I didn’t run back home. At all. I tried. But no.

DATA DOWNLOAD

Total Miles: 157, biggest mileage month so far this year. Just checked and my biggest month was 187 miles in October 2016. 

Races: Four. Two were miserable/slow. One was ok, one was awesome.

Ups: UM, HELLO, SUMMER STREETS. Did you forget already??? Also, that’s the most miles I run in a month this year. Catching up.

Downs: THIS STOOOOPID KNEE. Sorry, sorry, I still need love you knee, please don’t hurt me, anymore, prettyplease?

Balance: I wanna feel un-pain again and run hard, and do speedwork and I hate this crap. 

July

I barely remember July already and it was just now. My parents were still visiting so we kept touristing around and we had an amazing Fourth of July with all the official NYC fireworks on the East River. Epic. I did two races, with meh performances. The first one was the NYRR

hair working hard for the picture, post-Retro 4 Miler

 Retro 4 Miler, and I was really lame to not dress up, or back?  I seriously will wear any costume but just like happens every single Thanksgiving Halloween, I don’t care enough to remember more than 1 minute ahead of time. Every year I tell myself I am totally going to dress up next year and then I forget. Then every year, when the costumey event happens, I tell myself I am gonna set a reminder in the calendar for a month BEFORE Halloween/race/etc so I can plan ahead… but I am a snooze-hitter with things I don’t really want to bother with (NOT the alarm, you KNOW I wake up before the alarm even goes off!), and I use my go-to motto: if I didn’t bother doing it so far, no chance in hell this is gonna get done ever. Just like with the emails at the bottom of my inbox. If it’s been 2-3 days, there’s a high chance they won’t get opened/read/replied to… AAAANYWAY, I didn’t wear a costume for the Retro Run because I am lame. But people do, and it’s SUPER fun and I really really really always wish I did. mooooving on. Ah, so, the race. Wasn’t feeling it. I met with Courtney to do about 4 or 5 miles before and I kept wanting to go home. I was THIS close. Does that ever happen to you?

Then, I also did the NYRR R U N 5K in Central Park last week. Also wasn’t fast or anything special. It was a bit like hell hot so I decided to hold it in a bit. I managed to not kill myself. It was meh, but I love that course, it’s pretty fast with just one hill. Saw like a million people I knew, which was fun as always to catch up and chit chat and all those things with lots of chs in them. cha cha cha.

If anything else exciting, fun, amazing happened, I either don’t remember or it’s totally private or NSFW! HAAA, got you thinking!!!

DATA DOWNLOAD

exciting huh? I am behind on my mileage… been behind since,… January??? I am lazy or having too much fun, you decide.

Total Miles: 152, not bad, not bad… not amazing but the most this year. July is a good month to run!

Races: 2. LAME!!!! Last month I had 6… so… AH THAT’S WHY MY MILEAGE IS UP!!!

Ups: I heart running in the summer. LOVE IT. JULY NEEDS TO BE 325 DAYS PLEASE.

Downs: omg my hair in the weather. HELP. Send the firemen or the paramedics or Paolo Puttanesca asap.

Balance: I have no idea. ALL I CARE ABOUT RIGHT NOW IS SUMMER STREETS. SUMMER STREETS STARTS IN TWO DAYS. SUMMER STREETS IS THE BEST. SUMMER STREETS HERE I COME. SUMMER STREETS IS THE BEST. DID I TELL YOU I LOVE SUMMER STREETS?

can you tell I am melting?

June

was a great month. Let me break it down before I forget it all (photos and a super organized calendar really do help!). I often wondered if I should do these weekly… there is so much to say but then I forget. Anyway, JUNE was BUSY, My parents came to visit from Argentina, which is awesome, they come every other year, for about a month and it was amazing. We did everything, we went everywhere, I got myself them so tired every single day…. it was awesome and rough at the same time. We literally did it all in a month. We even went to Miami for a few days of untamable hair and sticky skin. I forgot how insanely hot Miami is in the summer. #protip, don’t effing go to Miami in the summer, ever. or really, at any other time but definitely NO in the summer.

Anyway, the month started with the Italy Run NYC, a 5-mile race in Central Park, sponsored by Ferrero where I proceeded to smear Nutella all over me post-race, best celebration possible, correct? Before you ask, there are no pictures of that because it’s a LIE. Race was good; my performance… meh (actually, I don’t remember anymore!).

Literally 3 days later, I did another race, the Summer Series 5K in Prospect Park. It’s on Wednesdays at 7 pm, which REALLY messes up my sleep AND my Thursday morning run with my Flyers friends, BUT…I kinda love showing up because:

I see lots of friends I don’t see every day in Central Park

I cherish (and also hate) racing in a different course than the ones I did one million times in CP (though it’s also harder)

Love the small race ambiance

Also, don’t remember much I think (given there is a picture of my holding a medal, duh) that I placed and I got a medal. Oh, and I totally remember I got something like 71% AG. YEAH, nbd.

And… 3 days right after this one, I had the 3rd race in 6 days… can you imagine how that one is gonna go???? So, Saturday morning was a Mini10K, which is a mega party, so I wasn’t going to miss it. BUT, I also wasn’t going to miss the other mega party Friday night… So come Saturday morning I was a MESS… my feet hurt (from the heels or dancing, who knows!) and I was sleeeeeeepy, SO SLEEEEEPY. I have no idea why, NOT ONLY I SHOWED UP TO THE RACE, BUT I also met Elizabeth (she is real, I promise) to do 4 miles before the race. MENTAL.

But, it was all worth it. I run it, EASY, with 3 friends, and it was a frigging BLAST. I regret nothing. #noregerts.

Told you it was FUN! Yeah, I was physically miserable but no one remembers that… smh. So then my parents arrived and we started the daily tour of all the food and all the things we don’t tell the tourists about. AND the World Cup. June was literally mental. Somehow I managed to get to Queens the next weekend, early, to run the Queens 10K. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to make the trek because Argentina was playing at 9 am against Iceland and I’d miss the first half, but so happy I went… Not only I had tons of fun at the race, I SOMEHOW (…miraculously) managed to do OK. Noooo, not a PR or even close but I got up to 69% AG, I was just one minute off from my PR, which is from frigggggging 2013! Does that even count anymore? I say NO.

I am a sucker for high-fives!

Then, wait for this because the madness doesn’t stop there…. I did TWO races the next weekend!!!! YEAH, again, NBD! Crazy, right? I agree. It’s good that I am a biomechanics coach and I know what I am doing because otherwise my leggies would have fallen off by then… Saturday was the Pride Run and OMG I WAS NOT GONNA MISS THAT. I always race the Achilles Hope and Possibility race (which was going to the next day), so I decided to take the Pride Run easy and save my legs for Sunday. Only… I didn’t quite do that. I ended up with a lot of fun AND 12 miles… oooops. #mischiefmanaged (for you all PotterHeads!)

Jackie, Mary, Michael and I run the whole thing chatting from start to end. And the outfits were ON POINT.

Sunday I woke up to do a few miles before the Achilles Hope and Possibility race and I was wishing I had raced the day before… It was muggy, humid, gross and I was tired. You do what you can.

David and Patricia (and corrals B,C,D,E and F) smoked me but I was happy. My parents had come to spectate and it was AWESOME. They came both days. They LOVED IT. Those two races and really something. REALLY REALLY something.

The next weekend was a wash because I was out of town, and back just on July 1st to watch the husband race the NYC TRI, with the parents and my cheering crew along. TRIATHLETES ARE CRAZY, just saying. But he’s so cute, it evens out.

DATA DOWNLOAD

Total Miles: 139, eeeeeek. too much racing makes the mileage go puff!

Races: SIX. 6 races in month. That’s probably maybe a PR, at least this year… ha, I have 12 races this year, 6 in ONE MONTH. 

Ups: All the fun things I did with the parents…!!! The Nutella at the Italy Run was HEAVEN. The Mini10K was SO FUN. Queens was a MEGA REVELATION. Pride and Achilles get me teary every time…

Downs: Mileage was yuk and I am behind my yearly goal. Tapering before races and how sore I am sometimes after…

Balance: ALL AWESOME!!!! I can’t believe I did all those races with all the other stuff I had going on…!

May

May was a whirlwind!! So much happened, and so many races also! I remember I started the month with something we had planned since September last year: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child!

Call me a Potterhead, That was awesome! Twelve hours later, I was up early for the Newport 10K, just over the Hudson, one of my favourite 10Ks, because 1, it’s flat, 2, the finish line bagels (and I don’t really like bagels!). The race was a blast as usual: I’ve run it a few times and it always delivers! It’s usually hot but I love the vibe and the views!

Of course, as usual, there were many runs and stairs workouts sprinkled through the month:

And then there was the Japan Run. I remembered being tired from something but then, at the start, I met with Brian and Nick and Jackie, and we all decided to run together and pace Jackie. Those are my favorite types of races!

Way too much fun was had!! The next weekend, just so I wouldn’t fall off the wagon, I run the NYPD Memorial Run 5K. It was HOT and humid but I rallied and for the first time in months, I did OK. I measure my race performances by AG and I feel I do ok when I get close or over the 70% AG mark. Lately, I had been around 64% to 69%, and in this race I went back up to 70% wohoooo. Also, it was super fun to run on the West Side Highway. I really like how wide it is there.

Then, three days later, after a brutal stairs workout and speedwork, we raced the Prospect Park Summer Series 5K: no biggie. The course was slower (as there is a hill in Prospect Park) but I managed very similar results! Just like 10 or 20 seconds off. I find it so weird to race at night (well, 7 pm), that I find it quite amusing to try to figure out what to eat, how much, when, etc. Of course, then I slept like crap after because I was so wired!

That was a lot of racing…!

DATA DOWNLOAD:

  Total Miles: 147, coming back up, but it’s hard with those short races because I feel like I need a good taper before and then my legs are thrashed for a few days…

Races: FOUR, here we go. Racing season is upon us!

Ups: the NYPD and the Summer Series 5K were definitely a surprise! I wasn’t expecting to do so well (NOT IN PR SHAPE YET THOUGH, ok?) and even though I don’t feel as strong as I used to, feeling in control of the situation really helps! One more thing: Central Park blossoming is the BEST!

Downs: how tired my legs feel two days after any short race! YUK

Balance: VERY HAPPY

So, I need to race more. Even if I am not in fighting shape or without any kind of expectations, I really enjoy it. The fewer expectations I have, the more fun I have, and so I go out there controlled and just let the race happen. I’ve actually started measuring races and performance by the amount of time it takes me to get back home, aka “how much fun I have”. For example, the NYPD Memorial Run was at 9 am and I got home at 4 pm: THAT is a successful race in my eyes now. The truth is I am not always (or ever again!) be as fast as I used to be or as I would like to be or as I would expect to be, so what should I do? Stay home until I feel I am in shape? HECK NO. To me, races are not a test of my fitness or “what I get from the work I put in” but a chance to enjoy with the community of friends who like to get out and enjoy the park with one foot in front of another trying to stay healthy. Yes, I’ll push hard here and there, but if one day I don’t feel like it or I decide to stick with a friend, it’ll be no different: it just HAS to be fun. 

April

We started the month in Argentina, which was great because it was WARM and hey, it was vacations. Got to see the fam and a few touristy things of course, and yeah, a few runs with Juan. Oh and of course I ate my face away. Lots of asado and steaks but also a lot of nikkei, my favourite non-native cuisine while in Argentina (my favourite non-native in the US is Japanese and French, you always gotta know where to get what!). I got back, I did a 4 miler in Central Park, the Run as One… it was so long ago, I can barely remember, or maybe it’s because I’ve been racing a lot the last two months! Oh yeah, I remember I got really hot (I was overdressed) and started way too fast or something, here is one picture!

I obviously spent some time running around, exhibit A:

or working:

or with Juan, usually eating crap:

and/or usually with friends, running or not!!!

DATA DOWNLOAD:

Total Miles: 119. Ooops. That’s low. I really vacationed in Argentina… IT HAPPENS, OKAY?

Races: just one but it was more like a tempo, wasn’t expecting to go all out.

Ups: the fun runs!

Downs: didn’t get a lot done!

Balance: it was good -> lots of blossoming happening all over NYC made it amazingly beautiful!

March

March is always a good month because it is my birthday!!! HA. I started the month with a race, the NYRR Washington Heights Salsa, Blues and Shamrocks 5K (there is a post there), which wasn’t great time wise but it was fun. See proof here:

There was a lot of running, maybe not tons of miles, because it was still cold as hell Alaska? ok Alaska, but it got done. 

And the United NYC Half happened. I saw so many of you there. That was an intense week and I was REALLY just a bit jealous of everyone running the new course. I got to run parts of it last year and was on one of the Pro lead trucks on race day and it looked amazing!! and everyone looked SO happy at the finish line… Really jelly So happy for you all!!!

We then went to San Antonio for a few quiet days of pulled pork and warmer weather. For my bday. We ate a LOT.  We run a bunch too:

DATA DOWNLOAD:

Total Miles: 151, it’s starting to pick up

Races: one. and I was so not wanting to race!

Ups: I did a lot of really great runs

Downs: still not feeling my best.

Balance: not letting it get to me. Let’s hope the nicer weather brings better running!

Also, one more thing I forgot to report on this whole year. A few friends and I have been doing monthly challenges. January was squats, February was pushups, March was planks. We usually just grab one from popsugar.com. Basically it tells you how many to do every day and each day is a bit more. It’s interesting. Maybe you’d want to try it with a few friends? we all text each other to make sure we’re all doing them EVERY DAY… Protip: it works better with a reward at the end of the month!!!!!!!!!!

February

was weird. I happened so quick I barely noticed. Instead of ice-fest, we had a few meltdowns (all kinds of meltdowns!) and even one day in the 70s… OH OH what are people going to use now to discredit “””global warming“””? I feel so bad for those polar bears, and hey, we won’t be moving to Venice anytime soon. Glad I live in a 2nd floor too, but I digress… Anyway, my body decided also to have a meltdown and I had a couple of stooopid issues (my hormones have decided they need more attention than any Kardashian!) and even some very very easy runs where my heart rate was about 50 over the usual… anyway, I was signed up for the NYRR Al Gordon Brooklyn 4M, and I was literally too tired to get up. Of course, I ended up running 11 miles in Central Park instead but my pace was 10:00 and my heart rate was at 82%. Insane. You just can’t win them all, can you? About two weeks ago, I spent the husband and I spent two hours shopping for half marathons for me… I came up with not a lot. If you have any ideas, let me know. Also, my running is so up and down I’ve started questioning if I should try to take some weeks/months off so my body doesn’t feel pressured and maybe that would help?

ha, I was just kidding! I’d be super hyper and way too annoying after just two days and waaaaay unhappy. So, let me just slow down, do it when my body is ok with it, and just enjoy it with no pressure. Deal?

So, I had a few awesome runs, still.

  Plus it was Valentine’s Day and who thinks we’d let any reason to celebrate pass by? any excuse works!

Also, I got to spend some quality time at work (at NYRR) with some people you might know… Meb and Jenny. Do you even need last names? Don’t think so! Meb is now a Team for Kids Ambassador and Jenny is a Rising NYRR Ambassador and both were in town to run the Virtual For the Kids 5K race. If you haven’t check NYRR’s Virtual Races, you should.

  Anyway, it all went waaay too fast!

DATA DOWNLOAD

Total Miles: 124, emmm, got lazy a bit!

Races: big old zero for the year

Ups: weather got surprisingly “hot”. 40s and some 50s even.

Downs: not feeling my best.

Balance: i am getting a bit frustrated. cause, wtf.

January

was really cold. The first two weeks we set cold weather records. It was awful. Running was awful. I started the year working at the midnight run and it was really really cold. I wore everything and it was still crazy cold. But it’s a super fun race!

It was so cold that the races on the second weekend of January got canceled. I managed to run both Saturday and Sunday but it was insanely cold. Everyone kept asking me what I was training for, as most people assumed I had to get the miles in for some marathon or something. I am not really training for anything, just trying to not let the winter win. I can’t say I loved it, but I got out there.

  This slideshow requires JavaScript.

As you can see there was a couple of blizzards in there, snow, ice, and all the layers. Luckily we had planned a trip to Mexico for mid-January to escape the cold. The vacation part was uneventful but we had a few epic runs with Juan (the husband!).

First night in the hotel, a guy who worked there came up to talk to Juan as he was wearing his 2017 TCS New York City Marathon shirt, to ask him if he had run the marathon. Turned out that Armando, our new friend at the hotel, was a runner too and invited us to his team’s workout the next morning. So, at 6:30 am we went out to meet up the Red Runners, who were having a special run as one of their teammates had passed that week. There was a half an hour of a warm-up, everyone in a circle, probably around 130 people, and the coach had a microphone and big speakers. Before we headed out, we all got one white rose to carry for the memorial. We all run together to a gorgeous lighthouse I never would have seen, we got there with the sunrise, there were speeches, even a triathlete pastor, there were prayers, and we run back with the boombox in tow. Everyone was together. It was very moving. And everyone was so welcome to this stranger. It was very special.

  When I travel, to me, the best thing EVER is to hang with the locals. Nothing could have beat that run.

Juan and I did have a few osom runs. The day after the run with Red Runners, there was a race in town, which we didn’t sign up for because registration was miles and miles away but we run to the start and finish to cheer/spectate. Funnest part: Kukulcan road (the main drag) had no traffic for the race. Quite FUN!

  The next few days we did great. We did a tempo together and we run back to the lighthouse so Juan could see it. We managed to get the sunrise too.

  And like that, we were back and the month was over!

DATA DOWNLOAD!

Total Miles: 140

Races: not even one. But we spectated at one..!

Ups: the runs in Mexico!

Downs: running in the sub 10 temperatures (which is like minus 20 in Celsius). NOT FUN. WITH WIND!

Balance: can it be June now? I really miss racing a LOT.

August 2018 – the month that was well, August is always a good month because of SUMMER STREETS, literally, I should be hired by the Summer Streets People because I feel like a community evangelizer.

[weannoyingbouquetgalaxy-blog1]

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"I'm 27 years old and I wanna get life insurance ? Any thoughts on which type i should get . ?

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I am 19 I drive an old 1997 Nissan I've only been in one wreck but that was over 3 years ago. I've been driving since I was 16. My mom is now making me pay my own insurance, and she said it would be around $600. This is insane to me. I don't understand why insurance is so expensive especially if you have been a safe driver for years. I feel like you are just throwing away money for nothing. Could someone explain why car insurance is so expensive and why do you think mine is so high?""

Is it bad to cancel new car insurance after just 1 month?

ok i bought a bad car from a dealer that scammed me and im a new driver and it was the first time i had a car and the first time i put on car insurance the reason why im asking is because ive bought the car and after 10 min of driving the car it died on me and there was no warranty dumb of me not to buy a warranty plus it was an old car anyways i got new car insurance and i sold the car and people was telling me that because im a new driver if i cancel my insurance early that i wont be able to open up a new one or it will be harder to open one up in future is that true?

What is the cheapest DUI insurance in california for a male when i become 18?

I just want liability for other drivers and i will get a crappy car so i dont need coverage for it. & I am 17 now. Am i able to get insurance if i don't have someone 18 or older sign for it? any ideas? Thank you

How much would a 2002 impreza wrx cost to insure?

Im 17( i know im about to get a bunch of your going to kill yourself! AHHHH!!!! i regularly drive my dads 05 mustang gt, i know how to responsibly control power) and me and my parents have found a great deal on a 2002 impreza sedan, it has 125k miles on it, and the last thing deciding factor before buying this vehicle is the insurance. We already have a mustang gt on the family plan, i live in VA, make all A's(supposed to give me a 30% discount), im male, the color is blue, with only a greddy bov aftermaket part installed. The car itself is blue, it is the turbod WRX version(not the sti), and has never been wrecked. We have state farm, im not sure as to what other information anyone would need to know, but im jusst looking for a rough estimate, thanks for any input.""

Insurance for a first time motorcycle driver?

is insurance cheaper for a pickup truck or motorcycle for a first time driver? either would be pre 1990 the motorcycle would be a 250cc honda

When can I get my auto insurance after applying for it?

Right now I am having G1 licence and bought a car. My G1 exit test is on June 5,2007. Can I apply as registered owner having G1 and add primary driver who's having G licence? How long will it take to get insurance? Also please provide cheap auto insurance provider's name. Thank you so much for your help. :-)""

On average how much is horse insurance for a 5yr old 16hh Thoroughbred Show Jumper for example?

I'm trying to calculate expanses for when I get my own horse. I will most likely be getting a Thoroughbred around 5 to 8 years of age. I will have him/her for Show Jumping purposes including competing. On average how much will insurance cost for this horse?

Worries about insurance with a tracker?

Being a 19 year old male who lives in London, insurance was clearly going to be a problem. I have however found some decent quotes which include having a tracker fitted. Now, I don't mind it too much but I do have some worries: a) The location/address: on the quote, I provided a relative's address which is outside of London (the address is about 40 to 50 minutes away from my actual address). Consequently, the price was cut by about half! The worry I have is that if I have a tracker installed, won't it be obvious to the insurer that this isn't my real home address when they see me parking and basically using my actual address instead of the relatives'? I won't be anywhere near the relative's address b) Speed limits: I once read somewhere that '90%+ people go over the speed limit' and although I don't know how true this is, it's clear from driving that in some areas, going at 30 causes delays and its a bit daunting when you're at the limit but everyone else is just speeding past. How much would this change the insurance? c) Price: is the price of the quote they provide the limit? What I mean is if they see bad driving with the tracker, could it increase the quote or is there a limit? Thanks for any help :) P.S Happy new year!""

Car Insurance Cost in NYC?

I have a question regarding car insurance. I'm 29 years old. I've been in 3 car accidents but was not at fault for any of them (2 of the times my car was sitting still! lol) and I've never gotten a ticket for any of those accidents. I used to have insurance through State Farm, full coverage for a 2004 Jeep Liberty that cost 50-60 a month in upstate NY. While driving to NYC one winter I got a speeding ticket, my first ticket ever! I was going I think 82(?) in a 65. This was just before I moved to NYC, and because I got the ticket in a podunk little county I was driving through I had no idea what the name was, the ticket flew out my door and I lost it. I figured they would mail me something else to tell me the payment was late but I never received anything else about it. Well I found out later it was because I moved, even though I moved about 2 months after the fact they wait quite a while to send another notice, and I never received it. Thus, my license was suspended but I never knew. I never got caught driving without it either. So I moved here in 2007 with my Jeep which I was very behind payments for, and then it got towed away for alternate side parking BS. I could have borrowed the money back then to pay to get it out but I let it go. Alright so long story short, I don't have the truck, it was auctioned. I'll be done paying for it through a collection agency settlement offer this May. If I had kept the truck, I would be paying 200+ more a month than I pay now, and I wouldn't have been done paying it til August 2011. Plus I would have had to pay to catch it up the 3 months I was behind, plus pay my boyfriends brother back who was willing to lend me the money to get it out of the car jail (lol) I had the suspension lifted last July so I could rent a car, again no issues. So I'm thinking of buying a 2,000 car (cash! I learned my lesson) in June when I'm done paying for the truck and I want to get no fault insurance. I know it will be a lot more here then what I used to pay, and in addition I now have a suspension that wasn't there before. How much do you guys have to pay for your insurance, if it's not too much information to ask? And how much do you think mine might be, or compare your cost and history to mine? Thanks.""

What is the difference between term life insurance and cash value life insurance.?

which one is better if you are starting your own business. also how much time you need to have to cash it out all the money from the term life insurance. Moreover, what are the advantages and disadvantages of both of these options?""

I'm 27 years old and I wanna get life insurance ? Any thoughts on which type i should get . ?

simplify your answer please .

What kind of Insurance should we have when doing a Re Fi Loan?

I am looking over the paper work and one form mentions that we have options at time of closing for different types of insurance. We have Home Owners Insurance/ I noticed disability and mortgage and Life help please

Auto Insurance Rates Increased for NO Reason?

I was in an accident where the other driver was negligent. However, we both have the same insurance company. It's been nearly a year and since I've been receiving the run around from them, I decided to get a lawyer. Once my lawyer contacted them, 2 weeks later my bimonthly bill went up about $15 (over $30/month). Keep in mind, that for nearly a year my rates remained the same but less than 3 weeks after my lawyer contacted them, up the rates went. Is this normal? Is this illegal? Should I inform my lawyer of this shady action?""

Whats a good health insurance company for when the baby is born.?

Is there any inexpensive insurance companys. I am financialy not able to provide the best but I want to atleast have health insurance on the baby. I am looking at affordable. I live in North Louisiana.

Age for car insurance?

I have heard that you cannot get your own car insurance policy untill you are 18. Is this true for new york state?

How much is the average travel trailer insurance rate?

I am interested in getting a modern (2005 +) travel trailer approx 25-28'. I wanted to know what the average rate would be to insure it. Also, is it a requirement to get it insured? Thanks.""

Why isnt health insurance free.. (taken out of taxes)? like other countries?

with all the taxes taken out ud think that would be the most important thing... i presume its because it would hurt companies that sell insurance in some kind of way... but im not sure... can any explain to me why? will it ever change? i think of all the things our taxes pay for ... it should at least pay for health insurance ...

If someone hits me do I file a claim with his insurance company or mine?

on new years eve a man backed into my car, I'm kind of behind and starting to finally get on it, when we called state farm (my company) they said it would make our rates go up because we were filing with them, do I have to call his insurance company or mine? and is there a certain amount of time i have to file a claim?""

Insurance question (=?

Do people in the UK lie about their age to get a low premium on their car insurance? have you lied or know someone who have? I know a lot of people who said they lie about their age (19 say say're older) and get a lower insurance price, is that possible? PS - quotes for young people are utterly ludicrious due to daft drivers, yeah, but still, roundabout 3000 if below 21 for lads. Cheers for any answers.""

""If minors can't sign contracts, why can they get their own car insurance?""

If minors can't legally sign contracts, then why can we get our own insurance policies? The policies are way higher in price, but in Virginia, where I live, you can legally have your own insurance policy and insurance, separate from your parents. They don't have to sign anything, they don't even have to know that you have the policy. Statefarm, Progressive, Allstate, all of them do it.""

How much is the average car insurance payment for a teenage?

I'm 16 & I know I'll be on my moms insurance since I'm not 18. would I be better off getting a 2011 or 2012 year car? I've heard it's pretty costly

Help with getting health insurance?

I'm a 22 year old college student and need health insurance. My mother doesn't work and has medicare/medicaid. I don't speak to my father. I'm a resident assistant on campus, which doesn't offer health insurance as a benefit of working. The school offers health insurance but it's around $2,000 a semester (four months) for very little coverage. There is commercials on TV about automotive insurance and life insurance but I don't know how to find health insurance. Where can I go to find more information on different real insurance companies and what's the average price (either per month or lump some) I would have to pay for health insurance? Any help would be great! Thank you!""

How much would it cost to insure...?

A .. 1999-2002 Mustang (Coupe) 1999-2004 Grand Prix (2 or 4 door, either estimate works) 1999-2003 Grand AM (2 or 4 door, either estimate works) 2000-2004 Mitsubishi Eclipse Any other decent looking car...That's within a 6-7k range. Other notes, I am 16, Male. A new car would go under my Mom, or Dads name...They both have perfect insurance, no wrecks, etc... Please don't tell me to go get a quote, because you need to be 18 to do those (I want accurate answers), plus, I cannot get an accurate answer off those knowing I'll be on my parents insurance. Any help is appreciated.""

Registering a car in California?

I just bought a car in California. I just moved here and am still looking for a place to live. It was a private sale, but they left me the plates, they said it goes with the car. She also told me I have 10 days to report to the DMV. Is this true? I haven't yet because I still have no place to live. If I opened a PO Box, would that be sufficient to register my car to, and even a drivers license? Or do I need a street address? What should I do? Also, can I insure it with just a PO box? I hope to have a place within the next week, but I'm still waiting on all of this right now.""

How much would i have to pay extra on my car insurance if i added my 18 year old son?

he jus got his license a few days ago?

How will the Affordable Care Act help the self-employed?

While I have been examining the Affordable Care Act from the employer's side (I work in HR), I haven't put much time into how it helps individuals. My brother is married and self-employed. He has no employees. His wife is currently a full-time student. Neither of them currently have health insurance because it is too expensive. They are in their 20s and are both healthy. What type of health insurance options are going to come available to them with the passing of the Affordable Care Act? What is the time frame on this? (I know I read something about the State Pools starting in 2014 but surely there is some relief sooner).""

What the best life insurance for a 23 year old female?

i want what best so when something happen to me my girls has the money to buried me nice. I want something that don't go away in 30 years and i half to get another policy. ...show more

Mom discovers $9 car insurance trick. What kind of scam is this ?

Mom discovers $9 car insurance trick. Auto insurers are scared you will learn this too.

Im starting my own roofing company how much would insurance cost me?

im starting my own roofing company , after working for someone els i want to do my own thing and start my own company so i want to know how much would the insurance cost me to get?""

How can I apply for Insurance???

Is there a site where i can go and Apply for Insurance??? Is there another way to do it?? Thanks that would be great.

How much is moped insurance?

getting a scooter , how much will my insurance be?""

Why is car insurance compulsory here in FL?

I own my car. The cheapest car insurance here (only) covers $10k on damages which is called PIP insurance and it is required by law. If the PIP insurance only covers $10k on damages, and I have more than 10k dollars on my bank account why in helllllll do I have to give my hard-earned money to these moth*rfu(kers? Sorry for my temperament but I need a clear explanation on this. If I am willing to give those $10k to my car insurance which is the only that they cover on damages if I crashed, why wouldn't they accept the dial and stop charging me monthly in my whole life? and return me those 10K when I stop driving? Again, I'll explain it easier. I'd give $10k to my car insurance till I crash. 10K is what they only cover. Why would they charge me every month needlessly? I have never crashed in my life. I have never filled a claim, then why would I have to pay my car insurance when they only cover $10k nothing else. ( I have been driving more than 15 years)""

""Does anyone know of an auto insurance provider that does not require a credit check in Vancouver, WA?

I switched from Progressive to Allstate online about a month ago. I started the policy and paid the premium. Now I get a letter from Allstate saying they are unable to carry a policy for me due to my poor credit. I'm angry and totally disagree with my credit score having anything to do with my driving ability. I refuse to do business with any company that uses a credit score to determine auto insurance rates or availability.

So is there any health insurance for those with serious medical conditons?

My younger brother who's only 20 years old has a host of serious illnesses: crohn's disease, rheumatoid arthritis, irritable bowel syndrome, and a few more conditions that has constantly kept him sick for a good portion of his childhood. He's missed at least half a school year on a number of occasions, and despite his maturation he's still heavily affected by his conditions. Obviously, it's practically impossible for him to hold a steady job, he'll work for a while and then he'll have to take off a month or two just to deal with his illness, with that said he surely won't have employee health insurance. Currently, he's using our state's medicaid, however once he turns 21 he's no longer eligible for medicaid. With the health care system being the way that it is, is there any possibility that he could continue receiving health care despite his ineligibility? He takes a ton of drugs daily, and even takes some of the same medications that our grandparents take lol. I know some of you heartless conservatives believe he should provide his own health coverage, but how? His drugs cost thousands, and he's in the ER constantly, thus making his health-care only affordable to extremely rich individuals. When healthy, he does contribute as much as he possibly can, however for someone in his condition it would be downright shameful if he can't continue to receive any healthcare.""

Usaa car insurance rates?

Hey guys! I was wondering if you could answer my question about the usaa car insurance rate for a 2011 Hyundai Genesis Coupe for a 18 female driver. Thank you! :)

What would be a good life insurance policy?

What is the difference between 10 and 20yr terms etc. What is the benefit of the whole life insurance? And why do those one's cost much, much more? What should the average 35yr old female enroll in. I'm looking at probably 500,000. That's way more then ten times the amount I earn in a year. Do they grow with interest? So many question's I know. But if anyone has the time to give me the basics I will appreciate it. Thank you.""

I'm 27 years old and I wanna get life insurance ? Any thoughts on which type i should get . ?

simplify your answer please .

What is the average car insurance rate for a teenager?

I am currently under my mom's insurance. I don't know what she has, but she said after I get my license I need to give her $1200 up front for my part of the insurance. Is there anything cheaper I can get on my own? JSYK: I am a 17 year old about to get a license in 10 days. I have a 3.8 GPA and got over a 90 on the written portion to get my permit. I live in New Jersey, and I am a female. I currently have about $1,100 saved from working the passed few months but I need some of it for band camp and I am paying for my car. My parents won't put anything forth to help me with the payments.""

Car insurance is very cheap or very expensive?

Car insurance is very cheap or very expensive?

Is it possible to get heath insurance in the US w/ a pre-existing condition I was born with?

I was born and raised in Ontario, Canada, and we get free heath care. But I'm moving to California for school in a little while, and I have a few questions about heath insurance. I was born w/ a serious heart condition that required several surgeries and will probably require even more in the future. Is it possible for me to get heath insurance w/ a pre-existing heath condition like that?""

Car insurance under my parents name w/o parents being present?

Hi, i live in Miami and my parents are currently out of state. I just bought a car and i need insurance in order to get the title. I was wondering if i can go under my parents insurance without them being present or if i can do it over the phone? also the car is a honda civic ex 99 and i am 19 years old. Its my first car and i have good credit, i am a university student with very good grades, and have not had any tickets or gotten into any car accidents. About how much will my insurance be? and would it be cheaper to be under my parents name, which i might add has been in a lot of car crashes, had a lot of tickets, bad credit, and jus has bad history, or would it be cheaper to just get it on my own??? thank you!!!!!""

About NRMA Car Insurance?

My grandma was driving and she was insured with NRMA. But since the past few weeks she just stopped driving and started taking public transports since she wasn't travelling to far. And the insurance expiry date is due, which mean she has to pay to continue to be covered. I was just wondering if its possible for her to not making the payment and pause the insurance for a while? Or is it compulsory to have an insurance with the car all the time?""

Is motorcycle insurance expensive in southern california for an 18 year old male?

i want to drive a motorcycle, but if the insurance is too expensive, then ill refrain from it. How much is it for a male, 18 years?""

How much would insurance be for a 16 year old with a v8 truck?

I'm looking for a first car. I need to know the price of insurance for ford or Chevy truck with a v8 before I can go out and buy one

Mechanical Breakdow Insurance refuses to pay...?

Hi and thanks for taking time to help me out. I have bought a BMW 540i (1997) back in January. I was really happy as this was my first car. Two weeks ago, I was driving to France and my gearbox died leaving me only with the first gear working. I went to a garage in France and we phoned the insurance but the insurance said that it cannot guarantee that it would cover me. They offered me to leave the car in France and to go back to London by myself. I refused to consider this option as I could not allow my self to stay in France (I had to go back to work) for more than the week-end and I could not afford to take the train/plane from Paris to London. The insurer said that they would not cover any costs associated with me going back to London. So I had to get the car back to London, and to drive it back home. I went to a garage where a very nice person accepted to take care of the car. He phoned the insurance and arranged everything. The insurer sent some engineers who inspected the car and the insurance said to the garage that they would only cover 65% of the costs...due to the mileage of the car (83,000 miles roughly). The garage has repared the car without asking me if I was ok to pay the last 35% and the insurer did not mention it to me either. I am going to call the insurance tomorrow to get more details about this story...but my concern is that : 1/ I am afraid of talking to them and to commit a mistake that could cost me more 2/ I don't know exactly what I am entitled to get and what are my resources in case they just refuse to change anything on this 3/ They ask me to pay the money upfront (around 2,000) and then I would have to make a claime but...I don't feel confident doing this..and I am far from having this money... I am really looking for help and advice here, I hope that someone will be able to assist, Thanks a lot, and have a very good evening

""How can i get insurance if my car cost 20,000?""

How can i get insurance if my car cost 20,000?""

""I got my first ticket today, will my insurance go up?""

I have had my lisence for about a year, im 17. i got pulled over today for going 29 in a 20 school zone. i got a 66 dollar ticket, but i really need to know if my insurance will go up... so can i get some help please?!""

""50% fault accident, but my insurance did not need to pay. Will my rate be affected?""

I was recently involved into an accident in a mall parking lot. My car was damaged and the other driver's car was not. I filed a claim with their insurance and received 50% of my claim as they determined comparable negligence, 50% fault . The other driver did not file a claim, and my insurance company did not pay any money to anyone. Will my rate be affected by this accident?""

Help i need cheap auto insurance.?

i have a 2001 pontiac grand prix gt and i am 19 years old and i live at zip code 48726 i need cheap car insurance can you help please

MICHIGAN NO FAULT INSURANCE?

I was in an accident today and the other person left the scene, cops came and got all of my info... my car is REALLY banged up.... i have michigan no fualt insurance becuase that is all i can afford... a $500 deductible ..what does this mean? how much will my insurance company cover to get my car fixed? thanks""

What is the penalty if police finds i have an old car insurance card in my car and not the current one?

i switched car insurance company, and i forgot to put the new car insurance card in the car, i still have the old one there but it expired. if the police stops me for some reason, will i get into any trouble? i have the new car insurance company phone number in my cellphone.""

Gap insurance on new auto?

what is the cost for gap insurance for honda acord 4 door sedan 06 year

""In 1000 years time, what do you think history will say about AGW?""

What do you think future historians will have to say about our time and its consequences? Based on your understanding of the subject; also what you think is our most likely response, how do you think AGW will progress over the next few centuries? Clearly there are many unknowns; just consider the changes in the last 100 years, let alone the last 1000. Chances are that there will be many developments that could never be predicted or even conceived today. Obviously answers will be highly speculative. So, just for fun then, what do you think the history of these times is likely to be? What do you think is likely to happen?""

Affordable health insurance?

I'm nineteen years old and I don't have health insurance. I'm going to be a college student in the fall. I was wondering if anyone had any idea how I could find good, affordable health insurance? Also some help as to how the whole co-pay thing works would help out, too. I used to have a certain health insurance for people from low-income families but they just cut mine off so I need to get some. Thanks in advance!""

Insurance for a 2005 Infiniti coupe for a 16 yr old in Houston area?

I'm about to turn 16 and am starting to look at cars. Does anybody have an Infiniti coupe and how much is it to insure? I'm just north of Houston if that is a factor

Does anyone NOT have health insurance?

How did it work for you to not have health insurance? Money is really tight these days and my husband and I are going to stop our insurance. But we are going to put our daughter who is almost 2 on CHIP. (Children's Health Insurance in Pennsylvania). So my question is for parents.. What are the pros and cons of not having health insurance for yourselves? and has anyone used CHIP and did you like it? Thanks everyone!

Trying to get public liability insurance?

I am a self employed sub-contractor for a drylining and plastering company. I am trying to get public liability insurance but every single insurance website or insurance comparing website keeps asking me for my business details and address and whether I have any employees and how long business has been trading etc....obviously none of these are applicable to me as I don't own and run a business but can't complete the form without the details. Can any other sub contractors tell me how they filled theirs in?

""When you rent a car, what happens if you get into an accident? Does your own insurance company?

cover your liability? Or will insurance automatically come with the car you rent? How does it work?

How much is car insurance for a 19 year old?

im 18 and have had/drove cars be4 but without a license, but i jst went for my g1 a few days ago nd i passed, so im jst startin to save up for a car tht i can put 100% on the Road when i gget my g2.. im not gon to drivin school cuz i dnt have the money so i have to wait a yr nd not 8months till i can get my g2, but i am jst wonderin how much will insurance be?? (i live in Belleville ontario Canada) im hoppin ill have enough save to pay 4 the 1st month then try nd fine a job asap. im wantin a 2door car from 96 nd up, a z24 cavalier, mazda mx6/mx3, sunfire, or a honda civic.. (i have had a mx6 nd cavalier already but they were not on da road)""

No insurance ticket do i have to be under the insurance of the car i was driving in?

ok so i got a no insurance ticket but im not covered in the car i drove in. i drove my parents car and so i couldnt find the insurance card when i got pulled over. i rarely come home i live about 400 miles away. the car has insurance and i am just waiting for my letter to come. so in Californa do i have to be under my parents insurance to get my ticket cleared?

How can one state offer more affordable insurance than another?

If Anthem Blue Cross/Blue Shield can compete nationwide as many others do it is not as though national insurance companies lack competition. So my question is; if every major insurance provider who could provider the greatest value due to economy of scale(greatest risk pool) in this nation how could a small company out bid a large one when faced with risk pools without cherry picking? How could insurance from one state be cheaper than another unless to bypass quality regulations and sell crap insurance?

Florida motorcycle insurance?

So I have a small 49 cc scooter that is street legal and I drive through the roads like everyone else. In Florida it's not necessary to have insurance on this small of an engine bike, so I don't. My question is, in the case of an accident that's NOT MY fault such as a car rear ends me at a traffic light or any other incident, can I still claim anything? Will the other persons insurance still fix or replace my bike? Will the other persons insurance cover me in any needed doctor visits?""

I'm 27 years old and I wanna get life insurance ? Any thoughts on which type i should get . ?

simplify your answer please .

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/how-much-would-cost-insurance-2001-lamborghini-diablo-roger-luther"

[scullydubois]

Only the Light Ch. 14

14/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: early 1995 (Humbug adjacent) | T | 5k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic <3

As the new year beckons Scully to put her life back together, she and Mulder share a Valentine's 'anti-date' on the Hoover Building rooftop.

TW for brief discussion of disordered eating.

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

The new year struck Scully with a particular melancholy. 1994 was, to put it plainly, one of the worst--if not the worst--year of her life. Even without her disappearance, it would earn that title. Her father’s untimely passing and the brief but brutal closure of the X-Files wrenched the few good things left from her fingers. Factor in the four weeks in late summer that she has no memory nor knowledge of, and you’ll understand why Scully has taken to calling it her year on the dark side of the moon.

Of course, the aftershocks of her abduction are still felt every day. Flipping the calendar does nothing to remedy that. At her last appointment, Dr. Zapolsky noticed that Scully’s weight had decreased rather sharply from previous visits and made the point that “rapid weight loss can stop ovulation,” which Scully interpreted as kicking her while she was down. That’s not exactly fair, after all. Technically, her period stopped well before she decided to restrict herself. 

It’s odd how it happened. Her weight was fine before her abduction; slender but within the healthy range for her height. Even when she was returned, it had only dropped a couple pounds, as if they fed her...as if they cared. She found that hard to believe. In the months afterward, she sought a physical representation of her mental anguish, and since she and food were never on the best terms to begin with, the choice was simple.

The other day, she had to punch an extra hole in all her belts to hold them steady on her hips. She knows the consequences of this; she’ll live them and accept it. 

There has been some beneficial progress. Dr. Zapolsky started Scully on low-dose birth control around Thanksgiving, hoping that it would balance her hormones and regulate her periods. It has, in fact, brought back her cycle, something that Scully did not expect. She gave Melissa her leftover tampons in October. Now Melissa buys enough for the two of them and insists that Scully doesn’t owe her a dime. Scully is too grateful for this to speak about it.

Her downward spiral reached a snag when she realized that smoking would make her birth control ineffective, shortly after her and Mulder’s Christmas Eve smoke break. She ditched the cigarettes, mad at herself for taking a month to read the disclaimer (she’s a doctor for god’s sake, she should know better!), yet glad to have an out. Smoking was a habit she exercised because she could. It won’t hurt her anytime soon, and millions of others do it, so where’s the harm? That was her thinking. As soon as she had a reason to stop, she did, and it felt a bit like jumping from a runaway train just before it skids off the tracks. 

So she is better, and she is worse. Which really means she is the same as she was. That is the conclusion she carries into 1995’s frosts and thaws. 

There is one thing she is certain of, something that she hadn’t given much thought to until the one year anniversary of her father’s death. She needs her faith back. She’s always practiced in a cyclical pattern, her devoutness orbiting in and out like the moon around the Earth. Sometimes closer and brighter, sometimes farther away, sometimes nowhere to be found.

She has to believe it will come back; it always does. She was made in God’s image, and her father’s. This is both a blessing and a curse.

But no one can be God, and she can’t be her father either. His faith never wavered. If hers was the moon--fickle and subject to doubt--his was the sun, steady and warming everything around it. This was a quality she was envious of, and then guilty in her blasphemy. She has never managed to feel completely content inside the bounds of piety like he could. She’s constantly shaking the devil off her back, then repenting for it, then wondering if it were all worth it. What if...what if...what if...she isn’t fully persuaded in her beliefs, and she knows that this is the worst sin of all. Like Mulder though, she wants to believe, and shouldn’t that count for something?

Imperfection is allowed. Understood, even. Doubt is not as permissible. “He who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind,” the Bible says. Sometimes Scully takes that to mean she should walk into the ocean. Then she realizes that would be blasphemous too. 

Some people believe without trying. Her father was one of those. Mulder too, in a different way. She used to think that she was too. Now she’s not so sure. “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” How many times has she read that line? Has she ever lived up to it? She’s seen and still not believed. Certainly that means she’s going to Hell.

Or is she already there?...She wonders that sometimes. Maybe she didn’t make it back from the other side. Maybe the devil just wanted her to believe that she had, and so he’d constructed some kind of diorama of Scully’s life that would go wrong bit by bit, boiling her like a gradually heated bathtub. No resting in peace for the unbeliever.

She can’t imagine a worse punishment than all the potentially good things in her life getting dismantled beyond her control. She’d rather never experience them at all than know their joy then watch them fall apart. Missy would kill her if she heard this, but you can’t please everybody.

It is at this point that Scully embarks on her chosen method of religious self-flagellation: going through the Ten Commandments and determining whether she’s violated them. Count up your sins and God won’t have to; practically the tagline of the Catholic faith.

She thinks she does okay with the first few. She has no idols, she honors her mother and father, and Mulder knows not to call her on Sunday mornings. Of course, the part about not taking the Lord’s name in vain can be tricky, but she’s working on it. 

Number five is where it gets dicey. Thou shalt not kill. She imagines that she wouldn’t, not on purpose, but the circumstances of her job worry her. God makes no exceptions for self-defense. And what if she were ever to be a true doctor? If she couldn’t save a patient, does that mean she killed them? 

Her father was in the Navy. He never killed anyone.

Number six...well, she doesn’t mention that often. Few people know about Daniel. Missy is one. Scully harbors a genuine shame regarding that time in her life, not so much because of Daniel, but because she was complicit in hurting his wife and daughter. It was a young, foolish mistake that she never wants to make again. 

She feels pretty good about number seven. The only thing she has ever stolen is one of Charlie’s matchbox cars when they were kids. She was uninterested in Missy’s hand-me-down Barbies and Raggedy Ann dolls. The boys’ toys were much cooler. She trusted the Lord enough to know that He wouldn’t hold something she did when she was seven against her. Besides, she gave it back when Charlie figured out it was missing. She just wishes he had let her play with him after that.

Number eight: thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. She considers honesty one of her best qualities. She sure hopes God does too. She’s not the most open person, but that’s different from lying…

Nine is a lost cause, considering six had been broken. This was her least favorite part of her family’s religion: the power it had to cause her shame about her own body, her own desires. She had her first crisis of faith over this at age 14. Missy comforted her with something she has never forgotten: “The original sin was the serpent’s deception, not Eve’s desire. Even God pins it on the woman.” She knew her sister could only say that because she didn’t truly believe and wasn’t trying to, but it had stuck with Scully through many moments when she needed it. 

And finally, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s goods. She supposes she did this with the matchbox cars when she was seven, but in literal terms that’s about it. Metaphorically, she does this all the time and struggles with why she feels so inadequate. Her sister’s confidence, Mulder’s tenacity, her father’s faith...The ideal Dana Scully would have all of these. The real one is a work in progress.

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

So it goes that she finds herself prepping a case in the office on Valentine’s Day. Mulder’s scheduled to fly to Florida the next morning to investigate attacks in a community of circus performers. He’s convinced it’s the Fiji Mermaid, she’s convinced he needs to get his head checked; the usual. This is one comfort Scully can always rely on. No matter how utterly twisted her life gets, she will always think Mulder is crazy, and he will always go along with it. 

The occasion of the day goes unmentioned until what Mulder lovingly refers to as “closing time,” which is not a specific time but rather the point that he finally gives up for the day, usually hastened by his partner’s prodding. Scully has learned the signs of his dwindling tenacity by now. She glances at the clock as he pulls his glasses off his head and tosses a sunflower seed in the wastebasket, pleasantly surprised that it reads only 5:15. He catches her checking, his eyes--amber today--meeting hers.

His lips curl in amusement. “You got a date or something?” 

“No,” she blinks, feeling like a child caught taking a cookie from the jar. Her cheeks grow hot, threatening to make a scene. “I figured you did, since you’re finishing up so early.”

Mulder straightens his stack of papers, clinking them against the desk obnoxiously. “Think again, buckaroo.”

He’s taken to calling her that lately. Neither one of them is sure why, it just popped into his mind one day and stuck. It makes her feel like a heroine in some 70s Western shoot-out flick who wrangles all the bad guys and locks’em in the county jail. She’s thankful that someone can see her for what she could be rather than what she is. It helps her see that too. 

He stuffs his papers in a manila folder, then rises from behind the desk and stoops toward the backpack he prefers to a briefcase. (She called him a kindergartener once because of it and he remarked that he’d ‘rather be a kindergartener than an adult.’ She couldn’t argue with that.) “Valentine’s Day isn’t really observed under the Fox Mulder calendar,” he says, unzipping the bag and putting the folder in. “Halloween and Thanksgiving, those are my holy days.” 

“You worship at the shrine of the food pyramid,” Scully smirks. 

“Yes indeed. Wait--” Scully’s gaze flicks to him, genuinely concerned. He dissolves her uncertainty with a boyish grin. “--does the food pyramid include candy?”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s not deeply felt. She misses these flat-lining comedic routines of his, usually at their best when they’re putzing through some tumble-weed town where the bathroom stalls at the gas station don’t lock. He loves being the funniest person in a ten-mile radius, and that’s not a satisfaction he can have in DC. She wonders if he tells these lame jokes to strangers now, or if they were just for her. 

“Speaking of food,” he says, brushing a hand through his hair, “you wanna grab dinner?”

Scully’s forehead creases. “Like, in a restaurant?”

“I mean, I wasn’t gonna be that forward, but I guess we could take it to yours or mine...”

Scully laughs lightly, wrapping her arms around herself, fingers caressing her bony elbows. “We’ve already covered what day it is,” she demures. “Everyone having dinner is going to be on a date.”

“You’re right...the restaurant probably won’t let us in unless we make out in front of the hostess,” he deadpans. 

“Not to mention that we don’t have any reservations…”

“Well, making out might remedy that, depending on the hostess.”

She gives him her ‘last straw’ look--crossed arms, arched eyebrow, stinging glare--and he raises his hands in surrender. “I’ll stick to slipping a twenty, then.”

Scully uncrosses her arms and slinks toward her purse rather languishly. “No restaurants, Mulder. It’s too much trouble on a holiday.”

“I sure hope you didn’t mistake my suggestion as an invitation to Mulder’s Downhome Country Kitchen, cause that place is not Michelin star rated.”

“I’m well aware. I’ve seen the menu.”

“Is Chateau de Scully open tonight?” he asks with an eyebrow raise that his partner couldn’t have missed if she tried--and she did. 

“Well, the chef is celebrating Valentine’s Day with her girlfriend in Oregon, so you’d be waiting awhile for your meal.”

“There’s no back-up chef? I don’t know, someone who may need to feed herself while the chef is away?”

“Yes, but she doesn’t serve the public.”

“Ouch.”

He plucks their respective coats off the rack, folding his own over his arm and throwing his partner’s over her shoulders. She jumps just the tiniest bit--she probably thinks he didn’t notice, so he’ll pretend he didn’t--then slips her arms in the sleeves and pulls it on properly.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, avoiding eye contact.

After he’s put his own jacket on, he hoists up his backpack, fielding off his partner’s near swerve into laughter. She’s barely maintaining a straight face, and even if it’s at his expense, he loves it because unadulterated joy is something she deserves so much. 

“You know what, I’ve got just the solution,” he says as he strolls out the doorway, flipping the light switch as he goes, leaving Scully scrambling in the dark. 

“Hey!” 

He hears her petulant voice, followed quickly by the laugh he was looking for. When she turns to him after locking the office door, her eyes are still shining from the momentary euphoria. He is so happy to know her.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this place is the Smithsonian of vending machines.”

“Mm-hm.”

“And I know a door to the rooftop that never gets locked.” He flashes her a sly look, his intentions pure despite himself. 

“It’s 40 degrees outside,” she counters before he can even voice his proposal.

“Sure, but we can make some fresh coffee, and there’s gotta be blankets in that storage closet of ours.” Ours. Very few things are theirs. She wishes he would say it again.

As much as her instinct is to protest, she can’t quite muster the resolve to. I mean, it checks all the boxes. It’s not a restaurant, she’d only have to eat a snack from the vending machine, and she wouldn’t have to spend Valentine’s night alone, which is a sneaky sadness that had been pressing at the back of her mind.

“Fine,” she bluffs, as if it were a great inconvenience to her. She enjoys the cat-and-mouse game, what can she say? “You find the blankets, I’ll get the coffee.”

Mulder smiles, his lips edging over his teeth in an aesthetically pleasing way that makes Scully feel like he missed his calling as a male model. Of course, this smile isn’t posed. The constant in his life is his partner’s unpredictability. Everyone thinks she’s a stone-cold skeptic, but he knows she’s an uncertain believer, and there’s no one harder to pin down than that. Her yes to his Valentine plans may as well be an admission that Bigfoot exists. 

“Let’s meet by the sixth floor stairwell, okay?” he prompts, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Flashes of Christmas Eve sabotage her thoughts--her mother’s kitchen, her untidy tipsiness, Mulder just trying to iron things out. He’d touched her, and she’d lashed out at him. Reaction formation, that was the term for the defense mechanism she’d used. He knew it, probably studied it extensively. Concealing an impulse by acting out its opposite.

Instead of mentioning this, she looks him in the eyes and says, “Okay, I’ll use the coffee machine on the sixth floor then,” as if his touch hadn’t brought forth both memory and desire. 

“Great. See you there.” He pulls finger guns, and she thinks that maybe this is already her best Valentine’s Day yet.

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

Five stories of stairs is a long way to go with two hot mugs of coffee. Scully had hoped there would be some styrofoam cups--something she could put a lid on--but the Bureau is stingy, so she had to go all the way back to the basement, grab their coffee mugs, take the elevator back to the sixth floor, brew some dark roast (to Mulder’s probable discontent), then hope that by some miracle, they could make it to the roof. 

Ever the idealist, Mulder takes the challenge in stride. Though his arms are already bundled with some comforters he found tucked away in storage (he shudders to think how old they must be), he takes the handle of his mug, squeezing the blankets snug against his chest. 

“Are you sure about this?” his partner asks with her usual uneven tone. “What if we get all the way up there and the door is locked?”

“We knock and get the snipers to open the door for us,” he answers matter-of-factly.

Scully’s eyebrows shoot up. “Snipers?”

“Oh yeah, did I forget to mention? There’s a longstanding rumor about snipers on the roof that I’d like to get to the bottom of.”

His demeanor is just loose enough to make Scully question whether he is in fact kidding. A conversational casualness permeates all of his sensational soliloquies because to him, the phenomena he’s discussing should be regarded as a fact of the world. If he ever launched into an indifferent lecture on the subject, she’d know he was bluffing.

Having never heard the rumor herself, she decides this is simply a figment of his overactive imagination. She’ll play along. “Well, if it’s anything like the talk of you being spooky, then it doesn’t look good for us…” she teases, her own smirk eliciting an identical one from her partner. 

Masking his impatience by embodying the role of the gentleman, Mulder uses his free hand to prop open the stairwell door, ushering his partner through. The landing of each story has one stray light bulb, there for show more than anything. Most of them are either flickering or burned out, the agents discover as they inch their way up, one slowly taken step at a time. Step, pause for the coffee to settle, hope it doesn’t breach its container, step: that’s the process they adopt for approximately 100 steps in the cold Hoover stairwell. There are many ways to show love; Mulder bets that you wouldn’t find this in any lame self-help book. 

“Do you think Romeo would have done this for Juliet?” he muses.

“Depends on what he was expecting once they made it to the top,” Scully quips, the edges of her lips turning up slightly.

Mulder nods, perpetually amused by her (too) infrequent jaunts into suggestive territory. “My man really got ahead of himself with the whole ‘dying for her’ schtick.” 

“You’re one to talk.” 

Mulder eyes her. “Actually, I think it was you who was going to die for me.”

“Not for you, because of you.” Her statement is neither packed with malice nor free of blame. “There’s a difference.”

She may as well have shot him at point blank range; then at least she could see the bleeding. She didn’t mean to be so blunt, but he gave her the perfect setup. Mulder cauterizes his own wound, disguising his pain as a joke. “Damn, I was finally moving past that!”

“At least one of us was,” she says, her voice fluttering, and he knows she’s just teasing, but god, what if she’s cauterizing her own hidden wounds?

They reach the door labelled ‘roof,’ and Mulder can’t decipher what happens first, him putting his hand on the door handle or her placing a chilly hand on his cheek. Playing it back in his head later on he won’t even be able to figure it out-- it cut time loose from its axes in such a way. 

“Are you okay, Scully?” He’s not sure why this is the first question out of his mouth, but it is.

“I need a hand warmer,” she murmurs. “The coffee’s already cooling off.”

All the while, Mulder is acutely aware that her hand’s still on his cheek and she’s got him propped against the door, and what does she want him to do with that information?

Her thumb grazes his mole, and it becomes clear to him that there are two ways this scenario could go, and if she doesn’t want the second one it’s imperative that she stop rubbing rhythmic circles into his skin.

He clears his throat. “Do you want to...do you want me to check for snipers?” Her touch continues, uninterrupted. 

“Is the door unlocked?” Her voice sounds airy and far away. She probably didn’t even hear his question. 

He pushes on the handle, confirming their freedom. “Yes ma’am,” he answers, fear of a sort edging him into total politeness. He is twelve tiptoeing through the too empty halls of his house, again.

“Let’s have a picnic,” she says, still light and airy, as if that weren’t the plan the entire time. Then, she breaks into sudden laughter, pulling her hand away from Mulder’s cheek in her fit. “We forgot the food!” 

She is back to normal now, his steadfast Scully with a side of joy. 

Half of him mourning for the otherworldly Scully and the moment that could have been, he laughs too. “There may have been some lapses in planning.”

“We can make do, can’t we?” There’s a glimmer in her eyes that suggests the moment is not as far gone as he believed.

“Cold coffee sounds like an enduring Valentine’s tradition,” he affirms.

They choose not to dwell on words like “enduring” and “tradition,” entering the chill of the Hoover Building rooftop on Valentine’s night. 

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

They’re not that far above the city really--the Hoover’s no NYC skyscraper--but their heads are in the clouds, that’s for sure. It’s not the typical dinner date complete with melted candles and overpriced dessert and overly attentive waiters, but as it turns out, they would both hate that. After all, this is not a date, it’s a casual hangout between two coworkers who don’t have dates on Valentine’s Day. If anything, it’s an anti-date. That’s what they tell themselves.

February’s unrelenting chill swirls around them, catching Scully’s hair in playful tantrums and turning the two of them into life-size paperweights atop the blankets. More sensible people may call the night a bust, but not the Prince of Halloweentown and his esteemed guest. This unconventional adventure is exactly what they bargained for.

Scully looks to Mulder, who’s holding his coffee like it’s a beer. She smiles. That is so him.

She exhales, and her breath spells itself out on the air. She tilts her face to the sky, as if the sun might suddenly rise and bask her in its heat. Mulder notices and fixes his attention there too, happy to have an excuse to look skyward. It’s his outlet, like hers is the sea her father dedicated his life to. His preferred escape method is to fly away; hers is to drift off.

He forces himself back into the moment, here, with her, and the expanse of the sky. “I once spent fifty bucks on one of those ‘name a star’ certificates, and I can’t even see it because of the goddamn light pollution.”

“I think that’s really more about the gesture than anything else,” Scully replies, trying to soothe him as if this were actually a pressing problem. “Unless you bought it for yourself...?”

Mulder chuckles. “No, no. It was for an old girlfriend.”

Scully raises her eyebrows in amusement. “Did you name it after her?”

“No, we named it the Rhine star.”

A puzzled look passes between them. It gives him a twinge of joy that his partner is not the encyclopedia she seems to be. 

“After Joseph Banks Rhine, the founder of parapsychology,” he clarifies. “We were both fascinated by the field.”

“Oh.” She turns her face back toward the sky with the feeling of a kid who missed the winning word of the spelling bee. There are times when she is grateful she does not know everything, and times when she is not. Somehow, this is both. 

“I’ve thought about buying another one and naming it after Samantha,” Mulder continues, “but it feels too much like a grave marker.”

“I’d consider it a lovely tribute,” Scully counters, used to doing so. “But I’m thirty and I own my own gravestone, so take that with a grain of salt.”

It’s true--once Dana was returned, her mother couldn’t bear to look at the gravestone she’d had engraved in memory of her missing daughter, so she gave it to Mulder, who saw no logical place for it to go except the woman whose name it bore. Margaret hadn’t wanted her to know that it existed, that they’d gotten so far as considering her gone. While it brought Mulder no joy to present it to his partner, it served as a reminder of the miracle her survival was, and in such bleak times, they had both needed that. 

“It doesn’t scare me--the thought of dying,” Scully says to the stars. Mulder wonders if she meant for him to hear it. He wishes he hadn’t, but he’s met with the realization that she is trying to start a conversation when her eyes look into his.

He doesn’t know where to go with this, so he toes the line between deep and sarcastic. “I thought Catholics were all about that heaven and hell stuff.”

“Yes, but…” where is the line between truth and blasphemy, she wonders? Settling herself, she starts over. “I’ve lived both on Earth, so what have I got to fear?” She turns her glance to the blanket, as if shrinking out of the Lord’s sight. “Besides, sometimes I think I’m already there.” 

“Heaven?”

“No, Hell.”

He should have known. He grips the edge of his blanket, wondering why his parents had prioritized the sex talk but never explained what to do in a situation like this. He has a psychology degree, sure, but he’s as much a psychologist as she’s a physicist. 

“There are periods of life, I think, where everyone feels like that,” he says in the most earnest voice he can conjure. “It’s just that nobody ever talks about it.”

“Did you feel like that with Samantha?” 

Leave it to Scully to turn a personal conversation back on him.

He bites his lip. “Yeah, yeah, I did. Still do, if I think about it too long.”

“How did you...move past it?” The lights of nearby buildings reflect off her blue eyes, galaxies to his black holes. He’d give anything to sluice the pain right from her heart. 

He’ll rely on his words instead, despite knowing there are depths they cannot touch. “I, uh, I didn’t really move past it, I just moved. Kept moving, I guess. I found a place where I could make progress out of my pain. Here--the X-Files.”

Scully swallows hard, knocking back tears. "That’s the issue. I feel stuck. Just completely unable to go forward. There’s a current in my brain that keeps pushing me backward.”

Mulder lets out a deep breath, trying to take both their pain with it. “Have you considered seeing a therapist?” he asks delicately. “It sounds like you may have PTSD.”

“Over what?” she practically snaps. “I don’t remember a thing.”

“That doesn’t mean you have no memories. Regression hypnosis could help recover repressed or unconscious memories, so you could understand exactly what’s bothering you.”

“You think I haven’t heard this spiel from Melissa?”

“I bet Melissa doesn’t have first-hand experience with it.”

“No, she doesn’t,” she murmurs in the tone of an apology. She knew that he had it, she had listened to the tapes. How could she let it slip her mind? It is uncouth of her to look down on his chosen method of healing.

Mulder isn’t bothered. He continues, “It helped me. Both in recalling the details of the experience, and in having a recorded recollection of it. It helped me feel less...insane.”

“Mmm.” If he were just a bit closer, she’d reach out and touch his hand.

“If anything, I wish I did it earlier.”

Scully’s understanding of him sharpens, like an ophthalmologist flipping the lens, making her vision clearer. Her gaze probes him, mutual souls recognizing mutual pain. 

“Hey.” He uses his extended wingspan to touch her shoulder with the care an older sibling would show holding their baby brother for the first time. She turns her head, their faces mere inches away from each other. His eyes are a dopey brown, his breath scented with coffee.

“Yes?” she says with a coquettish flitting of her eyelashes. 

“You should come back out on the road. I could use someone to shoot down all my wild whims.”

She can’t help but smile, though she keeps her mouth closed. “Tired of telling jokes to strangers who don’t laugh, are you?”

He smirks. “Well, yeah, that too.” He leans back a bit, putting enough distance between them to keep the sparks in check. “Of course, if you’re not ready, there’s no pressure. I just think you could use the change of scenery and--you know--companionship.”

She nods, looks out into the night. He’s got the pulse of her problems and the salve that could soothe them. “You’re right.” How often does he get to hear those beautiful words come out of her mouth? “I need to get out of my cocoon, and I think I’m okay enough to do that now.”

“Yeah?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, something like hope.

She laughs--catharsis manifest--and it’s like a sheen of light coming through a crack in her jagged surface. “Yeah, Mulder. I’ll make the arrangements with Skinner.”

He pumps his fists in the air. “Hallelujah!” 

She hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her. Any stray thoughts she had of him being lonely she chalked up to her own delusions. 

“Florida is probably a lost cause,” she notes, “but after that…”

He nods, pats her shoulder. “After that.”

To have her back meant something like freedom. The X-Files had never been anything without her. He had never been anything without her.