#i have no intentions of changing this routine though i like how efficient it is

[burningcomputerpersona]

also how is it that spanish love songs has such good merch??? i don't think I've ever been to a show before where I had to struggle so hard to pick just one thing, like in a lot of cases there's only really one thing that appeals to me or I just get something bc i love the band and need to have them on me regardless of what the design looks like. but i was spending ages just staring at the merch stand trying to pick one out of alllll the things i wanted

[kaonarvna]

FROG UPDATE!

We're finally able to tell the frogs apart! And as such, we're finally able to figure out their personalities/different behaviours!

"Log" spends all his day in The Log™, and as a result his camo is BROWN all the time. Log isn't too active, but likes making lots of noise. He cronks often at night, and periodically throughout the day when he hears a cronky noise (car horns, some songs, certain doors, coughing). He doesn't like to jump when he hunts, he sits in place, waits for food to come in front of him, and shoves it into his mouth with his little frog hands. Brutal, but very efficient. He handles really well, doesn't put up any fuss when picked up, but cronks every time he changes location (main viv to feeding tank and back, lmao). (Below is Log, freshly emerged from his log)

And "Rog" spends all his day in a plastic green hide attached to the glass. So he's GREEN most of the time now, at least until late at night. Rog is a bastard. Rog has taken a liking to trying to climb me. If you so much as come near the vivarium doors, he'll lock onto you with intent to jump. You can see the schemes in his little frog face. He seems a little too eager to be handled, and doesn't want to be put down. He wants to climb me like a goddamn tree; he does not do this with my spouse. Just me. Rog seems to recognise me, and is comfortable trying to jump straight at me. Rog is a very eager eater, and prefers to jump at his food rather than shoving fistful of cricket into his mouth. He eats fast and aggressively. When it's time to return to the viv after eating, he doesn't want to let go of my (gloved) hand during transfers. He still likes to hang out on the rock (rog) at night, once lights are out. Rog croaks too, often in call and response with Log. If Log starts croaking for an extended period, Rog cronks in between his cronks. It's so fucking loud. You cannot imagine how loud two pubescent frogs having a screaming contest at 3am can be. (Below is Rog, locked onto me, ready to jump)

At night they both tend to go brown once Rog leaves his hide, and we can't tell them apart too distinctly. We're starting to figure out behavioural difference, though! Only took us uuuuh three months.

I swear frogs are liquid. Depending on how they sit they either look tiny or extremely chunky. They're lush. So happy they're healthy and comfortable in their viv, and have come to anticipate the routine of being fed every other day.

[deborahotero]

Me, briefly living in Juana Diaz, Puerto Rico when I was 18.

Freeform Friday | Born Again

"I want to go on living even after my death! And therefore I am grateful to God for this gift, this possibility of developing myself and of writing, of expressing all that is in me. I can shake off everything if I write; my sorrows disappear; my courage is reborn. " - Anne Frank

This is the first entry of my new weekly writing posts.

I am so excited to get on here again with the desire to share my thoughts with others. For long periods of time, I tend to just keep my personal writings in my phone notes or in my physical journal. I was also never very good at typing on a keyboard before working the job I have now. So grateful my typing skills have improved significantly because I've had lots of practice the past two years working remotely where most of my social interactions and exchanges are through chat or e-mail. When I was younger, I would hesitate to get on a laptop whenever I had the urge to write because I could never seem to type fast or efficiently enough to keep up with my thoughts. The urge has since re-emerged - at least it has today. Let's see how long this lasts.

Trying to be a little more disciplined these days, even took out a book at the library today on stoicism called, The Everyday Stoic: Simple Rules For A Good Life. I really want to try to keep this healthy habit up (along with my workout routine) of writing on here weekly because not only does it feel really therapeutic for me to write out my thoughts, but I also love the idea of having a way to record my neural processes in one digital place to be able to reflect and easily track my personal growth. Added bonus: people may gain something from reading it.

Today, 10/11, especially feels like a new beginning worth noting because it is the one year anniversary of my move from my beloved hometown of Brooklyn to Inwood. Literally teleported from one planet to another. Went from Tastee Pattee to Sabor Tropical and it hit different. I've noticed over the course of my little thirty-eight year long journey, most of the biggest changes in my life happen in the fall time - no surprise there though, right? At least from my perspective, the autumn season is all about transitioning and getting ready for the transformational power of winter. You can really feel the the seasons change living here in NYC. The trees embody it the best - learned a lot from getting lost in the parks out here. Not unlike the trees, my mind, body and spirit have undergone many transformational phases in 12 month's time. Getting my thoughts out in this way really helps me make sense of all the shifts, emotions and possible purpose behind them. I desire to express not only thoughts about where I've been but also where I envision myself going next.

I am just getting warmed up.

"Today I woke up with the intention of my day off feeling really good."

I have learned that if I set a clear intention for my day a the very start - before cluttering my mind with other stimuli (that so rapidly comes up in the morning with my iphone and IG opening up almost automatically in my hands - shamefully) I am in way more control of how my day actually unfolds. Because I set the intention to feel good, I found myself course-correcting my thoughts whenever I veered off into negative thought streams. With a daily meditation practice and patience with myself over time, I have become much better at catching myself and switching over to a healthier mindset in the moment. Practicing this today allowed me to have a day filled with all the simple things I love (new library reads, a vanilla latte, cute girly self-care moments, a gorgeous sunset, a healthy salad, fun catch up sessions with my loved ones) in order to consistently reach for a better feeling thought and stay in alignment with what I set out to achieve.

Over the course of my beautiful (and not so beautiful) journey, I've found my mindset to be of utmost importance - especially when facing really difficult life challenges like grief over my parents and siblings, several near-death experiences and unhealed childhood trauma. The power of perception is real. How you perceive the experience, how you label it, how you come to understand it, choose to learn from it or repress it - really shapes how your body responds to it. How you interpret obstacles on the path has the ability to empower you to move forward or hinder you.

I can't believe I have written this much already - (I mean I can - I am a chatty Gemini ) but damn, that was fast. I clearly have a lot to express. I almost always sit down to write and nervously think, "well, what am I going to say? I don't know that I will have enough to write about to fill up an entire post worth reading." Literally all of five seconds later, I have written an entire auto-biography. I have also been reading Love Poems by Pablo Neruda (again) and am inspired to write more poetry, stay tuned.

Fun fact, my fellow chatty gem girl Anne Frank was born a day after me, June 12th. I have always admired her diary entries.

Here's to the Diary of Deborah Otero, aka Freeform Fridays.

With Love,

Debs

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

if I can never give you peace — two || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 5.8k // Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers // Ao3

↳ It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Warnings and tags (chapter): Descriptions of violence, Threats, kind of dark in general

First · Previous · Next

The car is late, you think as you smooth over the fabric of your skirt, your mouth twisted in a disapproving scowl. Annoyance is one of the few emotions that ever appear on your face, and you don’t even bother to hide it. You have only been standing there, waiting, for a few minutes, but it already disrupts your perfectly well-oiled routine. This is just one of the many changes that have come with Jungkook taking over, but it could be the one you are the least fond of.

You used to have the routine down to a T. You knew exactly when to leave your apartment so that the car would stop in front of you right as you reached the pavement. There were small hiccups every now and then — traffic, last-minute phone calls —, but most of the time, it went perfectly. You liked that. Having that kind of control, when your life had always been completely out of your hands, was comforting.

That went out the window the day you started working for Jungkook.

When the car stops in front of you, five minutes, that’s three-hundred seconds, after the agreed-upon time, you take a short breath before opening the door and stepping in.

There, of course, is your new boss, sitting with his legs widely spread on the leather seat. He changed your discreet sedan for a limousine, which you find obnoxious, but you didn’t protest. You liked to think that you were better than that at picking your battles

“Mr. Jeon,” you say with a nod, voice even.

Jungkook grins when you call him that. You know he enjoys the title, the power it indicates, particularly since hybrids are supposed to only ever have the same last name as their owners.

“Lot of work to be done today,” he comments, and you know he’s just saying that to rile you up. You used to report to Mr. X, but you worked on your own more often than not. Now, you’re basically Jungkook’s glorified secretary. You wouldn’t particularly mind the change if it didn’t mean that you had to sit and watch him superbly ignore your carefully crafted schedule, as he had every single day for the past week.

“Indeed,” you reply without batting an eyelid. “This morning, you have a meeting with Suga,” this one he should go to, he never misses them, “then you are supposed to eat with Fred Lucas,” chances were he wouldn’t show up to that and make you take him to a fancy restaurant instead, and you would be the one to have to handle the situation with him, “and later today I think it would be important for you to pay a visit to the Mystery Room.” That place was one of the few legal aspects of the business at the moment, if you ignore the drugs that get sold there, and it was not a location you should lose right now. “They have been quite… difficult, since the change in direction.”

That last one is new, and you’re not sure how Jungkook will react to it. Of course, there is plenty more work to do, but you’re trying out new methods to get him to do at least what really matters. You don’t understand why he would hire you if he doesn’t let you do your job, but hey, at least you’re alive. And so is your family.

You don’t know how long that will last, though. Unless Jungkook seriously gets his act together, it won’t take long for someone to think that they can do the same thing he did, and have him murdered. You’re even mildly surprised it hasn’t happened yet. That’s the thing, when a leader gets killed. It weakens the whole structure, and it gives people ideas.

The grin disappears from Jungkook’s face and he nods gravely at that last piece of information. That catches your eye, because it’s new. You tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, he spent the last week riding the high of his victory against Mr. X, and that he will be efficient if there’s trouble, at least.

“Cancel that second thing,” he says. “I want to eat at that restaurant I went to last week. You should get me a reservation there.”

Or not.

“But you can go meet him,” he adds, and you blink.

“Mr. Lucas is expecting to see you,” you say, in case you weren’t clear.

“And he doesn’t get to demand my presence like that,” Jungkook snaps. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from wincing. His voice sounds harsh, cutting. Dangerous. “Did he think that I’d go ask for treats because a human joined us? That’s not how that shit works.”

Okay. He’s not wrong here, but you don’t know about this— approachto the situation. Fred is, indeed, one of the two human leaders who decided to immediately join Jungkook when the news of the death of Mr. X and the uprising of hybrids in various parts of your branches in the city spread. You wouldn’t be surprised if he expected a treatment of favor for that, too, but you’re not sure letting him know how little his gesture was appreciated was the way to go.

“I don’t think—”

“He’s replaceable,” Jungkook says with a dismissive movement of the wrist. “I’ll swap him for one of my men the second he makes a mistake. It would be a lot better if no one forgot that.”

The look he gives you makes his message crystal clear. You feel your mouth getting dry, but you know nothing is showing in your expression, and that at least is a relief.

“I’ll go to the meeting and get you your reservation, then,” you say, pulling out your phone. “Does the rest of the schedule work for you?”

Jungkook frowns, and the tiniest feeling of satisfaction spreads in your chest. You know he’s just applying pressure and waiting for you to crack, but you won’t.You’re used to contorting yourself to please everyone. You’ve made it work for years, and it will take much more than those childish games for you to snap.

Or, at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the past week.

“Fine.” Then he closes his eyes and leans back in the seat. You raise an eyebrow at the sight. You know it’s not because he trusts you, but because he doesn’t think you have the guts to do anything to him — and because, even if you did, he’s pretty confident he wouldn’t have any trouble stopping you. You hate that you find something endearing in that vision. Jungkook was genetically designed to be handsome, and he is.More than that, though, when you look at him right now, even though his long bunny ears are skillfully hidden under a headband, he looks cute.

And he could — and would — take less than a second to snap your neck.

“This afternoon should be fun at least,” he mumbles under his breath, and you hide your grimace.

Shit. That can’t be good.

It’s been clear to you from the very first day that Suga knows exactly what he is doing. It’s also been clear that this isn’t his scene. Being at the forefront of operations, taking the lead — it’s obvious that he would much rather stay in the shadows. You’re not sure how important he was to Jungkook’s organization before, since no one has bothered trying to inform you of that, but you suspect that he’s usually more the type to be in the field.

Right now, though, he’s standing in front of a small group, exposing what the recent developments have been. Sitting behind Jungkook, you listen to him attentively. Those reunions should become less frequent, but right now things could still change completely, and you cannot afford to be taken by surprise.

You are, however, starting to feel less and less comfortable with the fact that nothing seems to be coming out of them. Sure, Yoongi informs you of the people who have sided with Jungkook and of those who are openly opposed to him — a minority, so far — but there is a large group in between that seems to be in no hurry to take position. And you don’t like it.

It hasn’t been long since Jungkook has taken over, but you should at least have gotten someintel by now. You’re not sure what isn’t working here. For now, you don’t want to risk provoking anyone by offering your services. Worry is starting to gnaw at you, though. You could all be driving into a dead-end street at full speed, and that stupid struggle you’re having with Jungkook just isn't worth dying over.

“So not much has changed,” Jungkook comments, tapping his fingers onto the table. He looks nonchalant, but you notice a muscle in his jaw twitching. You wonder if he understands more than he lets on.

“Things have been stagnant,” Yoongi admits without batting an eye. “There hasn’t been any open rebellion, but communication is lacking.”

“That needs to get better.”

“We’re working on it.”

They probably are, but it doesn’t look like that’s going well. Word has reached your ears that some of the branches have been keeping hybrids at bay as discreetly as possible.

“What about that Mystery Room thing?” Jungkook asks, frowning. “What’s going on over there?”

“The what?” Yoongi frowns.

Jungkook looks puzzled — pissed, actually — for a second, then glances at you over his shoulder, and the attention of the whole room suddenly shifts to you. You straighten your back, swallow.

“The owner of the bar has missed a payment to us,” you state calmly, “and it seems that he has no intention of making it and is trying to get out of his contract with us. It would be better if we didn’t lose it right now.”

“What do you mean, ‘it seems’?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his golden eyes at you. His voice sounds more like a hiss, and this time, you struggle to hide your reaction. You haven’t forgotten what it felt like, when you thought he was going to kill you. It’s affected you more than you’d like to admit.

“I have a contact who—”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, and you close your mouth.

“I’m going there today,” Jungkook informs him, and Yoongi nods.

“I’ll be around.”

The two men have a silent exchange of looks. Their relationship is somewhat atypical, not something Mr. X had with anyone. It looks like they genuinely rely on and trust each other. You suppose someone else would find it touching, but you don’t have it in yourself. Especially not when that means they both have it out for you.

“Haven’t you been following what we’ve been talking about here for the past week?” Jungkook snarks at you, and you blink. “Any information you get from now on needs to get to Suga so he can factor it in.” At that, you give him a disbelieving look. That just won’t work. It can’t. Not for the first time, you wonder how much he underestimates you, exactly. If he knew anything about the way you work, about how many contacts you have and how much information you’re usually juggling with, he would never ask that of you.

Yet you nod. You don’t know yet if you’ll send a believable amount of intel to Suga, or just absolutely drown him under it until they tell you to stop, but once more, this just isn’t worth fighting over.

Especially when fighting over something can so easily mean dying over it, in your current situation.

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

He looks displeased, and you know it’s because all he’s waiting for is for you to slip.

“I shouldn’t even bring you to these meetings. You’re not even taking any notes. That’s fucking useless.”

It takes everything in you to bite back a scoff at that. You could tell him you don’t need to take notes when Yoongi is talking about minimal changes in a landscape you know on the tip of your fingers, that maybe you would if he said anything of value, and that this wouldn’t be an issue if people actually feared him.

You marvel at how annoyed that quip makes you. You suppose you don’t like it when your competence is questioned. You don’t like the threat either, though. You don’t want to risk falling out of the loop.

“I’ve gotten you a reservation at that restaurant,” you say. “If things are done here, I’ll be on my way to meet Mr. Lucas.”

Changing the subject. Deflecting. Trying your best to live to see another day. It seems like it’s all you’ve been doing for the past week. You know you can keep it up for a long time, you’re patient enough. You also know that this game is set up to make you lose.

Right now, as Jungkook looks at you, clearly not amused by your attitude, there is a terrifying moment during which you fear that he might just drop the charade. The only point of this whole thing is to get rid of you. He could decide he only wants to do that any second.

“Yeah, right. Be on your way.”

He dismisses you like you’re some low lackey, but that, at least, isn’t anything new, and you know how to handle it. You bow politely, then exit the room.

“You really wanna keep her around?” Yoongi asks once you’re gone, and Jungkook groans.

He doesn’t know why he had expected you to break easily. He’d seen you work for Mr. X, do that same shit he makes you do and survive as long as you had, so he should have known you’d be good at it. He supposes he’d been used to you making decisions for him, back then, and had thought that was a normal thing for you, that you wouldn’t enjoy being in the position of taking orders. But you were, after all, just someone who worked for others that whole time.

Not that he gives a fuck about it. He couldn’t care less why you did the things you did. All he wants is to give you a taste of your own medicine. Dangling a false chance of survival in front of your eyes and let you handle the rest yourself. So as long as you push through… well. He’ll let it slide.

It’s not like you can keep doing it forever anyway.

Fred Lucas worries you. He’s always smiled too widely, been too loud, made too many jokes. You know Mr. X considered him to be some sort of buffoon, but also kept his distance from him. Mr. X didn’t like people who pretended to wear their hearts on their sleeves.

“Always a pleasure to see you, (Y/N),” he greets you warmly when you walk up to him and you give him a nod. If he’s upset that Jungkook isn’t there, he doesn’t show it, just like you don’t show your distaste for his use of your first name. “I’d like to discuss with just you, though,” he adds, eyeing Hector, who’s standing beside you. The fact that you still have him by your side is the only good thing that has come from working for Jungkook so far.

You don’t like that. You’re all too aware of the fact that this is his land, and that the only reason why he’s saying that is that Hector is a hybrid. If that gets back to Jungkook, it wouldn’t be good for Fred — but you don’t think he’ll go down without a fight. You glance at Hector, who looks as placid as always and offers no help. The gears in your head are turning fast. Before, you were protected by how indispensable you were considered by Mr. X. That is clearly not the case anymore, but Fred likely isn’t aware of that. Yet.

On the other hand, sending Hector away would show weakness, and you can’t afford that.

“Hector goes where I go,” you say.

Fred’s smile widens even more.

“Of course, of course, can’t trust anyone those days, can you?”

You wonder if it’s a jab at you and how quickly you changed sides, but he is more or less in the same position, so you could just be paranoid.

“Come on, come on in, let’s get ourselves a drink.”

You don’t want a drink, but you do follow him in. The sooner you do that, the sooner you will be out of here.

Fred has a lot of things to say. Most of it isn’t relevant to anything that is happening right now, but you’ve never been able to tune things out. You always worry you’ll miss an essential piece of information. So you listen as he babbles about his business — getting weapons in and out of the city, something he is decently good at — but also about his family, his friendships, and his favorite kind of alcohol. You let him pour you a glass, even if you have no intention of touching it.

“I hear you,” you manage to interrupt him, “but I am curious to know why you wanted a meeting with Mr. Jeon. It seems to me that you have the situation here under control.”

Flattery has always worked on Fred, and you have no issue in using that against him.

“Of course we do,” he gloats. “It’s just— There are a lot of rumorsfloating around those days, you know?”

You do know. You suspect Fred has heard the same things as you. You also suspect most people have been very careful not to let those things reach Yoongi’s ears.

“People are talking about a ‘human opposition’ forming,” Fred gasps dramatically. “Can you believe it? Some people are really not happy about being led by a hybrid.”

That seems to be more concrete than what you’ve heard, which means that Fred could be exaggerating things… or that he was contacted to join that opposition. And you don’t like that second possibility, not at all. You trust Fred about as far as you can throw him, and that means you certainly don’t trust him to not try and play both sides.

“That was to be expected,” you reply calmly. “I do not doubt that Mr. Jeon knew such a reaction was coming.”

Fred narrows his eyes at you, trying to gauge what you knew then and what you know now. Which isn’t much, but that’s not something you plan to let slip out.

“Do you know of anything specific?”

You see from the glint in Fred’s eyes that he knows the game is on. If you know something and he doesn’t tell you, he will look suspicious, but he could also reveal too much, and you doubt he wants to play his cards so soon.

“I— don’t, unfortunately,” he finally says, and you nod. Either he hasn’t heard of the Mystery Room, or he is voluntarily hiding it from you. Regardless, that limits how useful he is to you. “But the word on the street is that Jungkook may not know what he’s doing all that well.”

You send him a sharp glance. He’s taking a risk in telling you that, you both know it. That doesn’t make the information any less precious.

“I see. And, again, I don’t suppose you know where this— ‘word on the street’ is coming from?”

He shrugs, a true picture of innocence, and maybe you’d have believed it if Fred hadn’t been in the business for longer than you. He knew, he just wasn’t telling because he wanted to preserve his opportunities if something happened.

“I have to go, then. Thank you for the drink, Mr. Lucas.”

“Please,” he says, holding out his hand. “Call me Fred.”

That won’t be happening.

“Goodbye, Mr. Lucas.”

Once you’re out, you take a second to collect yourself, Hector following like a shadow and waiting for you silently.

“Is everything okay?” he asks after you’ve mulled over the conversation that just happened for several minutes.

“It’s fine,” you say as a reflex. You couldn’t stop thinking about how Fred had taken a gamble when he’d proclaimed his allegiance to Jungkook. He’d bet on him coming out on top, and yet you didn’t trust it. You couldn’t think of a reason why he would do that instead of carefully waiting to see how things would go, like everyone else. You didn’t like this. Not one bit. “We need to get to Mystery Room,” you add.

“Of course,” Hector nods, gesturing towards the limo, and you don’t bother repressing a groan this time.

“God. That’s so tacky.”

That brings a smile to Hector’s lips, but you don’t smile back. You never do. Instead, you climb in, roll your eyes at the whole thing, and let yourself be driven away. You can’t come to a conclusion about Fred Lucas just yet, but you have no intention of forgetting about him either.

It takes you a few seconds, once you’re out of the car, to understand that something isn’t right. You’ve never been good with feelings — instincts, as hybrids call them — and the air doesn’t feel particularly tense or charged to you. Hector stands a little close to you for comfort, and you piece things together from there. There are a few cars around, but not too many, which isn’t surprising considering it’s the middle of the afternoon. Still, you can hear voices from inside, and you know there’s an argument going on there.

“Let’s go,” you say with a decided nod, and Hector leads the way, shoulders tense, ready to pounce if needed. You trust him to do his job, and that’s a lot, coming from you.

You frown when you walk into the bar, taking a few seconds to let your eyes get adjusted to the lack of luminosity, and that frown only deepens when you hear the argument going on and recognize Jungkook’s voice. God. The concepts of subtlety and discretion are completely lost on him, aren’t they?

Making your way through the room, you try to evaluate the situation. Yoongi is leaning against a table, looking bored out of his mind, though you’re sure he doesn’t miss anything from what is going on in the room. As if to prove your point, his golden eyes flick towards you for a second when you approach, before looking away, clearly uninterested. Other than him, it seems that the only other people present are the owner and various employees. You think it’s stupid and dangerous that they showed up here basically alone but, for the millionth time today, you grit your teeth and don’t say anything.

There are five men around, including the bouncer and a security guard. They’re probably armed, and that’s to say nothing of anyone you cannot see. Outside of Yoongi, though, no one pays attention to you, not until the bartender asks loudly “Mojito, as usual, Miss (L/N)?”

It’s a bit early for that, actually, but you give him a nod. The Mystery Room isn’t quite your scene — you’ve always been one to prefer classy restaurants — but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re well-known here, and everywhere, actually, which is something that everyoneknows, except your own boss. That is obvious by the way people’s attitude shifts when they see you. The owner bows to you politely. You acknowledge it with a curt movement of your chin. Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. He doesn’t look happy about it.

You wait until you have your glass in your hand to say something. The silence that fills the room is heavy, and you can feel Jungkook’s anger emanating from him, having lost the men’s attention. He’s the man who murdered Mr. X, took over half of his operations without anyone noticing, and their fucking boss, and they’re still treating him like a low-life hybrid.

“You haven’t been paying what you owe us,” you say, almost lightly, when you get your drink. “Has business been slow?”

You know it has. You know people aren’t too sure what to think of Jungkook yet. You also know they’ve still made money. Better yet, you’re sure the men in the room know youknow that. You’re giving them an obvious way out. All they have to do is say “yes”, and you’ll come up with something. You won’t let them go off scot-free, but there’s no need for this to end in a bloodbath, either.

“That’s not the issue,” the man says, voice raspy, and you don’t let it show, of course you don’t, but you’re still taking the hit. They’re underestimating Jungkook.

This might be the last mistake they make.

“I think it would be better for everyone if we could work through whatever issue there is,” you say slowly.

Better for them, really, especially because this is you giving him a second chance. There won’t be a third one.

“I’m afraid we don’t, uh, approve of the recent change in direction,” he replies, a stupid grin on his face. He’s mocking you and your infamous overly procedural speech. You know people say you can’t accept who you’re working for, that you can’t take the idea of having blood on your hands.

You may not care, but you’re well-aware of it, and you really don’t appreciate him saying that to your face. You’ll have to make an example out of him.

You sigh and shake your head at his answer. You’re not going to enjoy this. You’ve seen people’s attempts at rebellion against Mr. X, even if those were few and far between, and no matter how much of a fight they put up, it never ends well. For them.

You’re prepared to just leave the place and arrange for it to be set on fire during the night, when Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of it.

“What’s your problem with the change in direction, fucker?”

The mood changes immediately. Hector’s hand on your shoulder gently pulls you back, and Yoongi hops off the table to come stand next to Jungkook, hands in his pockets. He looks nonchalant and relaxed. He could probably easily kill everyone in this room and not get a drop of blood on his jacket.

The owner squares his shoulders and walks up to him. He’s slightly taller and much larger than Jungkook.

“Listen, bunny…”

You barely have the time to widen your eyes at the word, to think about all the ways Jungkook has made it clear that he’s not your typical rabbit-hybrid before his right hook connects with the man’s jaw, so fast you would have missed it if you’d blinked.

A moment of stunned silence follows, during which the man stumbles backwards, hand coming to cup his face in disbelief. And then, he seems to decide that it’s a good idea to retaliate. The dozens, hundreds maybe, of fights you’ve seen Jungkook win flash before your eyes. He doesn’t stand a chance.

People start moving around you, but it seems like it’s only a fistfight. No guns are drawn, for now, and you’re reminded of how much you fucking hate watching people fight. You take a step back, bored already at this stupid display of strength and violence. Still, you can’t help it when your eyes are drawn to Jungkook. There’s a— curiosity within you. How much has he truly changed, in the past two years?

For one, he certainly isn’t pretending this time, isn’t trying to make this fight last for a few more rounds. There iscertain showmanship there, though, you note. He’s giving time for the owner to recover while he takes out some of the other men with hits of surgical precision. He wants them to seewhatever he’s going to do to their boss. Hector and Yoongi keep the fight contained, don’t let anyone escape or call for help, but Jungkook doesn’t need their help. No one here is a threat to him, and it doesn’t take long for the men to be on the floor, groaning in pain.

The owner pushes himself up, spits some blood on the floor. Jungkook turns to face him and beckons him closer with a flick of his hand. He looks amused.

“You fucking piece of—”

This time, Jungkook doesn’t go for the head. His fist gets the man in the ribs, and that first punch is followed by dozens of others, not giving the man any respite, not letting him breathe. When the man falls back, Jungkook doesn’t stop, though the hits slow down, based on what you can see and hear. You have to clench your jaw to stop yourself from grimacing at the sound of flesh hitting flesh, of the bones underneath clashing. It was drowned out, back when he fought in a ring, but knowing it was there disgusted you back. You don’t know why, you just hate it. It makes you sick.

When Jungkook finally gets back up, he hasn’t even broken a sweat. There are five men on the ground, clenching different parts of their bodies and crying out in pain, and he isn’t even out of breath.

“You should fucking reconsider,” he spits out.

They won’t have to. This place will be gone soon enough.

His eyes meet yours as he walks out, and his expression turns to a disgusted scowl. It almost draws a scoff out of you, but you hold it in, and instead, you follow him dutifully.

Jungkook doesn’t speak to you in the car, eyes instead on his bloody knuckles. It will heal fast, you know, and that’s probably why he doesn’t bother taking care of it. When the car stops, you look outside and find yourself faced with your own apartment building. It’s not even five in the afternoon yet. You turn around to give your boss a quizzical look.

“You’re not needed anymore,” he shrugs. He doesn’t sound like he’s playing this time, though you’re still sure that he wants to get on your nerves.

You hate that it’s working this time.

“The day isn’t—”

“I think you’ve proved exactly how efficient you are today,” he says, obviously dismissing you. “I have no fucking idea how you got this job.”

You bite your tongue not to reply. You don’t care about the job, you don’t care about his opinion of you, you barely even care about the Family. You should just nod, give him the usual “yes, Mr. Jeon,” and walk out. But something keeps you in place a little longer than it should, and that’s how much you hate jobs that aren’t well done.

Your voice sounds distant to your own ears when you say what you’re supposed to, your body doesn’t feel like your own when you walk out and close the door. Your breathing quickens while you hear the car leave behind you like it’s all happening in a dream, your head spins, and you stand frozen in place, staring right in front of you.

Is this your life now? you wonder, feeling your heart thumping like it’s trying to get out of your chest. Are you going to let yourself be so disposable, so mediocre, let everything you’ve spent years building fall apart? This isn’t the time for pride, you’re well aware of that, but it’s still eating at you inside.

You walk back to your apartment like you’re in a trance. There’s a heavy weight on your chest, and you realize you have to make a choice. If things stay like that, you suppose Jungkook will have your head at some point. This is a fight of patience. One you cannot win. But if you make yourself indispensable, then maybe, maybe you can survive it. You’ve done it once already.

You brush aside the little voice mocking your reasoning, telling you that you’re doing this because you don’t want to lose your status. Not because it’s wrong, but because you know that’s not enough of an incentive for you to take a risk. You need something stronger than that. Even if you know it’s a lie.

That doesn’t stop your hand from trembling as you dial Yoongi’s number. You’re happy there’s no one to see you, because God, you couldn’t take your carefully crafted facade crumbling right now.

“Yes?” he answers quickly. If he’s surprised to hear from you, it doesn’t show.

“What are the plans for the Mystery Room?” you ask, satisfied that your voice doesn’t quiver, even if you’re a mess right now.

There’s a silence at the other end of the line, and you suspect he’s considering not answering you, so you take the initiative.

“You need to at least replace the owner,” you say, kicking off your shoes. “You can convince him to sell to us,” — convince, one of your favorite euphemisms — “or get rid of him and get the place from his family. Burning the place down is also an option. We can’t let what happened slide like that.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi says.

“Also, it would better if Mr. Jeon could avoid fighting with people. The last thing we want is people who think they can challenge him.”

“He can take them.”

“That’s not the issue. If people think they have a chance, they’ll keep trying. We don’t want them to do that.”

Another, longer silence.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he’ll listen to you.”

“And you think I will listen to you?”

You roll your eyes. It’s strange, you know you’re gambling your life right now, but the tension you were experiencing earlier has been replaced by an eerie calm. You feel detached from everything.

Maybe you’ve been doing this for too long.

“You don’t have to,” you say, “but this is my job. I’m good at it. If you just let me do it, it would be far more efficient than whatever has been going on for the last week. I know you don’t trust me, but you can probably come to the same conclusions as me in this situation at least.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest. This is an explicit critique, something you would never have risked with Mr. X, and it’s the most open act of defiance that you’ve ever done — and it’s to convince them to let you workfor them.

“We’ll see about that,” he replies dismissively, and your shoulders fall at first, but then he adds, almost reluctantly, “I’ll take what you said into consideration.”

“Good. We also need to talk about tomorrow’s meeting. I’ve gotten some important information about the opposition to Mr. Jeon, and I think—”

As you explain the situation to Yoongi, you feel yourself calming down. Maybe it’s because you’re doing something that’s familiar to you, you’re not sure, but you can breathe again, and that solidifies your conviction that you’re making the right decision.

Finally, you’re ready to take back your life.

Tag list: @chaiwivluv @mintyrae @btswdwsmhrdt @xxquenwxtchxx @fekitza @kimmieloveswho @deeepvibes @lonleycoffee @gookiebts @kpop-baka @taecallsmenoona @mimiinluv @dabbingangels @jooahchu

[crimsonophelia]

Can I request for a fluffy friends to lovers fic with Venti and a human gn reader? They’re good friends (but the reader doesn’t know his real identity) and when reader brings up their desire to see a wind wisp in real life Venti decides to surprise them by transforming into his true form and paying them a visit. The reader finds this mysterious little wind wisp at their doorstep and gets excited, takes care of it, and while feeding it apple slices starts talking about how their good friend Venti would love to see them - but oh, he’s less of a friend and more of a crush who I’ve loved for a long time… wait, where did the wisp go? Wait, Venti?! When did you get here?!

featuring: venti x gn!reader

warnings: none

published: june 30, 2021

form: imagine

a/n: thank you for sending this in—i need more venti requests, he’s my baby <3

you could tell that the drink was beginning to hit you hard when you felt your muscles go slack. it was your fourth pint of the night, and although you thought that you could hold your drink fairly well, you could never hold a candle to your bard friend’s seemingly bottomless appetite for wine. venti was on his seventh--or was it eighth?--mug of cider for the night, and was still fairly unfazed, if you consider his usual bumbling amiability to be his default. after a long day of working and whatever it was that venti did in the daytime, you two had decided to meet up at the angel’s share that evening for a drinking night between friends, and to catch up on life and whatever else goes on in the city of mondstadt. 

the night had begun with a mug per person, as you and venti caught up with each other. due to your duties at home, and his rather inconstant job as a traveling musician, it was oftentimes difficult for you and the bard to stay in touch--responsibilities always seemed to get in the way. so, naturally, you took advantage of every opportunity you could get to see venti, one-on-one, and simply talk. after knowing him for quite a while, he really was a delight to talk to, always full of witty riddles and forever knowing the right thing to say at the right time. venti really was quite remarkable. 

he also had the unique talent of contagious alcoholism; after having spent an hour or so drinking and chatting with him, you unwittingly started drinking more than your usual limit, absolutely carried away with whatever small conversation venti had you engaged with at the moment. the conversation had somehow strayed into the topic of myths and legends of mondstadt. venti was speaking of some strange conspiracies surrounding the origin of the anemo hypostasis up in the mountains, and as the alcohol began to break down your proper judgement, you began to go on and on about how you, as a child, dreamed of seeing an elusive wind wisp. 

you had heard stories about the boy revolutionary, armed with his bow and his words, accompanied by a little white wind wisp, leading mondstadt’s journey to freedom. the story had enchanted you when you were young, and clearly you still had not given up hope of meeting a similar wind wisp. perhaps it would bring you the same joy and power to change your life for the better, just like it did for the hero of old mondstadt. 

venti listened to your reminiscing closely, looking at you with a quizzical look of interest. your intoxicated state made it so that you didn’t notice the look on his face as if he was plotting something, but, to be fair, venti’s poker face was notable for its impregnability. the night ended with him having to walk you home, propping your arm over his shoulders so that you wouldn’t trip and fall on the cobblestone streets. the last thing you remembered was him tucking you into bed, and singing you one of his funny little songs.

the next morning, you woke with a pounding headache and the bright noon sun peeking through your shutters. archons, was it so late already? you pulled yourself out of bed, trying not to stumble, distracted by the pounding in your head. you had a long list of things to do today that you had to complete, and you severely regretted drinking so much and so late with that damned bard last night (though you could never really hate him--he was too adorable).

slipping on whatever clothing closest to your bed and sluggishly following through with your daily morning routine, you got ready to head out the door to water the carrots and potatoes in your backyard. as you pulled open the door, prepared to step out and face the piercing daylight, you caught yourself as you almost stepped on the little figure at your doorstep. lying there on its side, was a wind wisp. yes, just like the ones you had read about all your childhood and you had mused about endlessly last night. it had its little eyes shut, sleeping probably, its delicate little form curled up on the step. 

you were bewildered, partially at the coincidence of it all, but mostly by the rarity of what had occurred before your eyes. a wind wisp, something most people never even saw once in their lifetimes, suddenly showing up right at your doorstep after you had talked about your desire to meet one just the night before. crouching down, you scooped up its little body in your hands. the little thing began to wake, hands rubbing its eyes sleepily, as it made a chirping noise. it was ridiculously adorable. 

“hey there, little guy”, you cooed. “what are you doing here?”

as it began to regain consciousness, the wisp floated up off your hands, small gusts of air emitting from its form, and it flew up to nuzzle against your face. it felt like a warm breeze brushing against your cheek, and you heard it chirping in your ear. 

you giggled. “well aren’t you the cutest little thing!” you raised your hand to pet it, and it made a little gurgling noise, leaning into your touch. something about its mannerisms felt so familiar, almost like something you had known in a past life perhaps, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. its presence was just endlessly comforting, even though you had only known it for a few minutes. 

reaching into your pantry, you pulled out some apples you had picked the day before, and cut it into small slices. the wisp watched you eagerly as you went about your business, like it could understand everything you did. holding up a thin slice to the wisp, a little hole in its void of a face opened up and enveloped the slice whole. a little shocked but certainly entertained, you gave it an approving head pat. 

as the day went on, the little wisp continued to follow you throughout mondstadt as you ran your errands. you went outside, behind your house, to take care of the crops you were growing. as you watered your plants, the little wisp helped you disperse the water more efficiently, blowing a gentle wind from your watering can so that you didn’t have to walk as far to water the faraway plants. you go to pick some apples and sunsettias nearby, and the little fellow would fly up to the hard-to-reach fruits and throw himself against them to knock them loose from the branches, right where you could catch them. you worried a little bit whether he was hurting himself by doing so, but he appeared to be pleased just to assist you, and he certainly was not ashamed to take a few bites from the fruits of your shared labor at the end of the day. 

considering how efficiently your errands were completed today, of course all thanks to the helper you acquired that morning, you thought it would be nice to use the time you had in the late afternoon to take the wisp out for a picnic dinner at windrise to show your appreciation. gathering some of the fruit the both of you had collected, and some sandwiches you made, you placed it all in a little wicker basket and set off for the great tree with your companion upon your shoulder. 

upon arriving, you laid down a gingham blanket in the shade of the great tree of windrise, just a moments away from the ancient statue of barbatos. you felt like a child again, remembering the summers of carefree exploration, tunneling through the thickets in the forest, or catching frogs by the creek, or tumbling down the hills by the sea. and now, a wisp joined you, taking you back to the memories of those years, when life was much simpler.

you couldn’t help but to think of venti, the bard, the friend, who had brought you such comfort through difficult times, whose music, like the warm touch of the wisp, reminded you of home and the beauty that life could bring. your companion was now feasting comedically fast on the food you had brought along, swallowing up fruits whole, and chewing for several moments before helping itself to another. you chuckled and gave it a pat. “greedy little fellow, aren’t you?” you couldnt help but to think venti would have loved to meet the wind wisp, considering his love for nature and all sorts of fauna, and considering the small resemblance between himself and the creature.

“stick around for a bit and i might introduce you to my friend, the bard”, you told it, not really caring that it probably couldn’t understand you. “im actually not sure that we are friends, to be honest. these days we rarely see each other but...” you trailed off, distracted by the sound of the breeze through the branches. the wisp stopped eating and watched you intently. “well”, you began. “i sometimes find myself wishing him and i were more than friends. maybe not lovers, not right away but... i just know that dearly. i cannot be sure that he feels the same, but that is of no matter.” you pat the wisp’s little head again. “if i can make him happy, even just as friends, that is enough for me.”

out of nowhere, a strong wind blew past you, knocking over your wicker basket and sending it flying several feet away. agitated, you scrambled up to chase after it, finally grasping it before it could fly too far. you were perplexed—where in the world could such a strong wind have come from? the sky was clear, and there were no clouds obstructing the setting sun. how odd, you thought to yourself.

you turned around to bring the basket back to your sitting spot, but to your surprise, the wisp was gone. no, in its place was now your bard friend, venti, sitting there on the blanket like he had been there all along. how in the world did he get here without you noticing, and where in the world did the wisp go off to? you hurried over to venti, questioning, “since when did you get here?”

the bard smirked, and fiddled with his lyre that you just noticed he had brought along with him. he had that look on his face again, the one he wore whenever he had some sort of plot in mind.  “whatever do you mean, [y/n]?”, he replied amusedly. “i’ve been here all along.”

[flshtopher]

where the heart is

pulcinella takes young fatuus ajax back to morepesok for his birthday.

/

The year after Ajax joins the Fatui, Pulcinella pulls him aside before routine combat training and tells him to pack an overnight bag.

So he does, with all the speed and efficiency of a boy whose worldly possessions consist of little more than three sets of the same drab uniform and a handful of toiletries. Part of him is disappointed. He likes it—the training. He’s good at it. The other recruits are older than him, bigger, but that hardly matters when everything down there had been older and bigger and a hundred times more terrifying than any human.

Still, orders are orders, and Ajax is a soldier now.

(He knows better than to talk back, had learned his lesson the hard way.)

Pulcinella greets him with a kind smile when he boards the carriage. It’s just the two of them, and Ajax allows himself to sink into the plush upholstery.

“Where are we going?”

“East,” Pulcinella says.

An answer, but a nonspecific one. Ajax drops the matter.

By and large the journey is uneventful. Ajax spends half of it gazing out at the Snezhnayan countryside and the other half dozing in his seat while Pulcinella busies himself with some sort of report.

It’s nice, almost.

Ajax rarely has time away from the hustle and bustle of his unit. He’s used to it—the noise, the lack of privacy. Growing up as the middle child of a large family meant there was always someone around. Someone to play with, someone to laugh with. And at the end of the day, he would snuggle up with his siblings, all of them in one big pile to keep warm.

(These days, Ajax sleeps by himself on a hard cot with a knife beneath his pillow.)

Some time later, Pulcinella wakes him with a gentle shake of his shoulder. The carriage is stopped, and the sky through the window is painted in hues of yellow and orange and purple. Half a day has passed since they set out from the Fatui camp.

“Big Brother!”

For a moment, Ajax writes off the voices as figments of his imagination. Then his senses register the crashing waves, the distinct scent of salt and sulfur he’d spent the first fifteen years of his life marinating in. He clambers over Pulcinella, scrambling to wrench open the door and—yes, there, two rapidly approaching figures with their arms in the air screaming and waving and Ajax doesn’t hesitate to leap out of the carriage to meet them halfway.

His back meets the ground with a thud. The air is knocked from his lungs, and he can barely breathe with the weight of both Tonia and Anthon on his chest, but that small detail hardly matters when he can finally wrap his arms around them, feel their warmth and reassure himself this is real.

“I… What are you two doing here?” Ajax asks. “I mean, why—“

“The young lady wrote to me,” a voice from above replies. Pulcinella shoulders both their bags.

“Tonia?”

His sister pouts. “Because Big Brother wouldn’t answer my letters!”

Well, no getting around that one. It wasn’t intentional—not entirely, anyway. He’d been angry at first. Hurt and betrayed. Not by his younger siblings, never them, but for a time, he remembers not wanting to think about anything related to his past life. The home he was no longer welcome in, the celebrations he would miss, the childhood that was cut so painfully short.

(Weeks and months pass, and Ajax’s anger morphs into something closer to shame. The letters stay hidden beneath his cot, dozens of them in a secure box Ajax buys with the first payment he receives for his service to his nation.)

“Sorry,” he says, because what else is there to say? “I’ll write back next time. Promise.”

Tonia looks at him for a long moment. Then, satisfied with what she sees, she extends her pinky.

“You break a pinky promise…”

-

The house hasn’t changed much. Ajax is greeted by the same old yard, the same old chipped front door. His family has lived here for generations, many of his ancestors having never ventured outside their small village.

(His father was different though, and oh how little Ajax wished to be like him—)

The inside is much the same too. It makes it easy to pretend the past year has been nothing but a bad dream, that he is simply returning home after a day of play. His mother has dinner on the stove, and his father sits in his leather armchair with a toddler on his lap.

“Ajax,” he says, setting Teucer down.

Teucer approaches him with none of the wariness Ajax possessed at his age. Rather, he offers a wide grin to the brother he was too young to remember, and extends his chubby arms with a simple request:

“Up!”

Glancing between the wide eyes of his youngest brother and his father, Ajax waits for a nod of approval before scooping Teucer into his arms. “Wow, look at how big you’ve gotten!”

The delighted squeal Teucer lets loose is infectious, and soon Ajax is laughing too as he spins them around. A whole year… he’s missed a whole year of this. Of Teucer’s first words, his first steps. He won’t be around for Teucer’s birthday, or his first day of school, or any of the days in between.

A large hand claps his shoulder and Ajax stops to meet his father’s gaze. There’s an unreadable look in his eyes, similar to the day he—

“Ajax,” he says, gruff but not unkind. “Son, how have you been?”

Son.

(The stench of alcohol, a stinging handprint on his cheek—

“Who the hell are you? What have you done to my son?”)

Ajax coughs. “Good,” he says. Hates how his voice wobbles. “I… Lord Pulcinella has been taking good care of me.”

“It’s been my pleasure.” Pulcinella’s smile is kind, betraying none of the ruthlessness that comes with being a Fatuus, with being a Harbinger.

His father nods. “Thank you, Lord Harbinger.”

-

Growing up, Ajax is something of a crybaby. A mama’s boy, they called him, always clinging to his mother’s skirts and hiding behind her leg. She indulged his desire to stay close, and it was her who taught him how to cook a proper meal, how to make a home.

She cries the day Ajax emerges from the Abyss.

(It’s the first time he sees her cry, but not the last.)

Now, as she crushes him to her chest, Ajax feels the tension melting from his body because no matter how tainted he’s become, part of him will always be the little boy who craves the comfort only a mother can provide.

(She doesn’t fight the day Pulcinella takes him away, but Ajax sees the way her hands tremble, the wetness in her bright blue eyes.)

“I’m sorry.” The words are murmured close to his ear, and it occurs to him that he’s taller than her now. “I’m so sorry, Ajax, I—“

Ajax returns her embrace. “What are you going on about? I’m fine, see?”

“Ajax—“

“Dinner smells good. Do you need help with anything? I can set the table.”

With a firm shake of her head, his mother starts ushering him out of the kitchen. “No, no, none of that. You must be exhausted. Go wash up first and show our guest around. He’s more than welcome to sleep in Simon’s old room tonight.”

She lets him go with kiss to his cheek, right above the scabbed over cut he received during training earlier that week.

“And put some medicine on that, dear.”

“I will, I will.”

(The cut is minor and already on its way to healing, but he’ll slather the smelly ointment on anyway for her sake.)

“Love you.”

“Love you too, Mama.”

-

Pulcinella is a hit with the kids.

They call him Uncle Boris, and Ajax doesn’t miss the way Anthon hastily wipes the crumbs from his face as he approaches. Bribery—classic.

The tour of the house doesn’t take long. There isn’t much to show, after all, but Pulcinella seems charmed anyway. Vaguely, Ajax wonders if Pulcinella has a family of his own, if he misses them, if—

—if any of the harbingers have a family to return home to.

(Maybe that’s why Pulcinella treats him the way he does.)

-

The carriage arrives first thing in the morning.

Ajax yawns, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as his mother stuffs his once pitifully empty bag with food, clothes, medicine, and Celestia knows what else. She fusses with his hair, and straightens his uniform, and pulls him in for one final hug before he turns to leave.

“This will always be your home, dear. You and Uncle Boris come visit any time and I’ll have a hot meal ready.”

Ajax smiles. His bag is heavier, but his heart feels lighter. “I know, Mama.”

Next to her, his father calls out just as Ajax gets one boot on the footplate.

“Be safe, Ajax,” he says. Then, to Pulcinella: “Please continue to take care of my son.”

-

“Thank you,” Ajax says, a little ways into their return journey.

Pulcinella glances up from his report—different from the one he’d been reading yesterday—and Ajax notes the dark circles beneath his eyes. “Of course,” he says. “Happy birthday, my boy.”

[fayeimara]

Sakusa Kiyoomi || Quiet Corners of Our World

SUMMARY. A busy Sunday becomes something else entirely when your typically routine-loving boyfriend has some unexpected surprises in store.

PAIRING. You x Sakusa Kiyoomi

GENRE. Fluff <3

WARNINGS. Suggestive

Reader Request Part Two | This is a continuation of the story in Small Moments.

It's a small kiss behind your ear that wakes you up, along with a whispered, "Good morning, love." You turn towards the deep baritone, seeking its owner even though you've barely roused. Sliding one hand forward to squeeze in between the cool pillow and cooler sheets, enhanced by the press of Sakusa's head still lying atop it, your other hand finds his cheek even before you've opened your eyes. When you do briefly flicker them open, it's to meet his amused gaze for just a moment before the bright rays streaming in from your windows compel your lids to flutter shut again. There's an enticing aroma in the air and it's not just your boyfriend's aftershave.

Tilting your head up in a silent plea for his soft lips to meet yours, you hear a low chuckle instead before you feel something light brush the tip of your nose back and forth. A butterfly kiss. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth but quickly turns into a pout when he his teasing tone breaks the silence again.

"I'd like a proper kiss, love, wouldn't you?"

You nod with an assenting hum and it seems he'd anticipated your non-verbal answer because he's already continuing. "Then you'll come brush your teeth, won't you? I have a surprise for my little butterfly."

The words are still soft with temptation and your eyes peek open again, this one longer than your first attempt. This time, when you meet Kiyo's deep gaze, it anchors you to him as you fight off the last hazy remnants of your sleep. If only you didn't feel like you could lay there falling into the dark, mesmerizing pools of his eyes instead.

You're tempted to close your eyes again just to regain your equilibrium but it would be quite futile. That, and you're realizing it's Sunday, which means both you and Sakusa have your respective engagements for the day. Your mind wanders back to the previous day, an improvised but perfect lazy date indoors, which already seems so far from reach.

What if the two of you canceled your plans to pursue a whole, lazy weekend? Would the world stop turning? You smirk, tempted to be a little bad and see if you can convince Kiyo to join your sudden scheme.

"What's that little smile about, sweetheart?" You startle, realizing your thoughts have wandered while he continued to study you, holding your unfocused gaze. He has his own little smirk on his face, as though he's actually able to peer right through your eyes and view your most intimate daydreams.

A blush works its way onto your cheeks, you can feel the warmth even if you can't see it but you're definitely aware of his eyes tracking every miniscule change with that beguiling smile still curving his lips. You pretend to stretch out in order to hide your clearly telling expression, hoping to compose yourself again quickly. With your arms hovering over your face you miss his movement, only feeling the slightest shift before his fingers caress the now exposed skin at your stomach and waist.

"Kiyo!" You're jackknifing so fast in order to jump out of the bed as you reach for his wrist to pull his arm away but he's not done with flustering you when you're in your sleepy state because his other arm catches you mid lunge and you're drawn back against his hard body before you can even register that you're trapped.

Kiyoomi's long legs stretch out alongside yours, shepherding them with light pressure so that he can form a cage around you, finally complete when the hand with the wandering fingers enters your line of sight before dropping to your shoulder. Arms criss-crossed around you, one across your waist and the other crossing that space just below your collarbone, he finally leans in with a brush of his lips to the shell of your ear and whispers, "Didn't you want to stay in bed longer? Isn't that what you were just thinking... How you might convince me to stay?"

Even as your stomach flips at his seductive tenor, your face burns as you're caught at your own game before you could even begin to truly consider it. What a dangerously perceptive man you've chosen to call your own. And how like him to torment you when you're caught unaware. He had better be prepared for some payback. Much later.

"Ah..no."

"No?"

"No." You shrug as much as you can in his hold, thankful you're at least facing away as you boldly lie, "I was... thinking about you brushing my teeth."

You might have actually thrown him for a loop as he pauses and then, his flirtatious game forgotten, warily repeats, "Me brushing your teeth?"

Oh no. You can't laugh. But it's difficult as you can quite literally imagine the exact look of distaste on his face at this very moment. He might end up thinking it's an amusing or even cute concept some day but this reaction is pretty typical when he processes new actions that go against his natural instincts. Exactly why you chose this very visual.

"Mhm. You withheld my rightful kisses because you wanted me to brush my teeth first, didn't you?" Okay, so maybe there's a little payback for him sooner than you'd planned. Three birds, one stone. What a feat.

"So... you think I want to brush them for you...?" He trails off, completely unsure where you're going with this.

You shake your head, tone quite glib when you elaborate on your lie, "Not quite. I just imagined you might force me, like a bad puppy or something you apparently think you can order around. That why I was smiling. The imagery and all."

"You were smirking." He corrects with authoritative tone completely ignoring your subtle admonishment. Is that humour seeping back in, as well? "But if you want me to treat you like a pet..."

You jerk forward again, trying to slip his hold as he manipulates the conversation to regain the upper hand. This isn't where the conversation was supposed to flow.

"Not a pet, Kiyoomi."

"Really? If you like that stuff, I guess I can give it a tr-"

"It was a joke!"

"You sure, pet?" His amusement is back full force and you have to roll your eyes at your now failed attempt to regain your composure because, well, maybe you walked into that one by being impulsive.

"It was actually a lie, wasn't it?"

You stay silent, debating if it's better to just refuse to talk until you're completely awake with a cup or two of coffee to fortify yourself from your boyfriend's unexpectedly bold banter today. It seems like Sakusa is in a playful mood but you have no idea why, given that you each will be going separate ways for your respective commitments in less than two hours.

You find yourself suddenly lifted up in his arms, as he effortlessly carries you off the bed before swinging you up like a ragdoll, in a maneuver that ends with his arms cradling you bridal style as he walks you both to the adjoining bathroom. Now you're actually speechless, without deliberate intention, as you find yourself staring up at the elegant lines of his face, hands having wildly grabbed his shirt at the chest and behind his neck when he moved.

His dark eyes are filled with mirth as they connect with yours, "Your silence is incriminating, love. I may just have to follow through with your request in retaliation for ever uttering such a suggestion."

"I didn't ask-" You start of indignant but end up cutting yourself off as a thought occurs to you, "Wait. Do you actually like the idea?"

His eyes narrow down at you, face falling into his classic inconvenienced expression as if you've somehow disrupted his rhythm. Isn't it the other way around? Hey, you should be the one giving him that look!

"Of course not." His voice is clipped and slightly unconvincing.

When he finally sets you down on your feet, you lean on the counter to watch him as he reaches for your toothbrush, neatly squeezing out the perfect amount of paste on its bristles before letting it swing quickly under a soft, brief stream from the tap.

It's when he turns back to you, holding it up holding the instrument up to your mouth and going, "Say ahhh." as if trying to feed a toddler, that you realize he's actually going to try to brush your teeth. You suppose neither of you have been good at backing down from the others' challenge and it's placed you in odder scenarios than this. A giggle spills from your lips at how silly this one is and it's his small answering smile, with a mix of self-deprecation and good humour, that prompts you to obediently follow his instructions.

It's... intimate, to say the least. He's very methodical, probably too gentle, as he makes sure to count out the strokes at each and every side. You find yourself with rare minutes of being able to study him completely unfettered, starting with the tiny dent between his brows from the intense concentration to his task at hand. The way his head tilts and mouth purses between instructions to you is quite endearing.

But as his eyes wander up to yours, the bristles begin to tickle your gums, as if he's applying exactly the wrong amount of pressure, enough to make it unbearable so you're pulling your toothbrush from his fingers to finish the job with ingrained, thorough efficiency.

You notice he doesn't move for his own brush, watching you instead with a silly smile that no one else would believe Sakusa Kiyoomi could produce. When you finish, mouth clean and minty fresh, he leans down to present another butterfly kiss but this time you finally feel the soft melt of his lips onto yours before he pulls away again. Hm.. he's already brushed his teeth before you woke?

You can't help but tease, "So that's it, huh? I suppose my kisses were denied on account of morning breath."

"Not quite." He mimics your own words from just earlier and it has you arching an eyebrow in challenge.

"Mhm.. convenient timing to receive my first kiss of the day, then."

"Love, I would kiss you any time of day or night. There's nothing about you that could push me away."

The absolute certainty with which he says that makes it feel like your heart could beat its way out of your chest just to go claim its space in the undeniable warmth of his.

But.. "Then why use it as a bribe?"

Instead of answering, Kiyo curls his fingers around yours to draw you back into the bedroom as he throws over his shoulder, "It's probably cool by now, so it might be a little late but..."

And with a little gesture, he reveals the source of the heady aroma that you couldn't place earlier, the savoury scents of grilled fish, rice, and miso soup permeating your room, scents which now feel quite familiar and easily placed once you see the prepared breakfast tray perched on his side table.

"Oh Kiyo.. breakfast in bed?"

"We missed it yesterday and I was up early so I wanted to surprise you." He sounds a little disheartened but you've never been one to shirk food even if it's not piping hot.

It couldn't have been sitting too long either, it hasn't been more than ten minutes since he tried to wake you, maybe fifteen. You move back to the bed, careful to fold the soft down duvet to the lower half of the bed. It's a pretty big step for him to bring such spillable and worse, stainable, meals into your room, let alone on the bed.

You look him over carefully but truly can't find a single tell that it's bothering him, so you accept your tray gracefully, seating it on the bed between you both as you notice two pairs of chopsticks. A shared breakfast in bed. While he's long since gotten over his aversion of sharing food, at least with you, it's definitely a monumental milestone and an incredibly romantic gesture in his special way.

It's over this new shared moment that you're tucking away in your memories, that Sakusa give you his biggest surprise yet.

"I've canceled our plans for today." "You ca- our- what?" You're at a loss for words, wondering what's prompted these sudden impulses in your typically steadfast boyfriend.

"I've canceled out plans for today and made us new ones."

You're speechless again, in the calm face of Sakusa Kiyoomi, who has managed to spend the little time you've been awake completely blindsiding you with new experiences and developments. Why is he pushing himself so?

"Baby-"

"Love. Don't question it. Just follow my lead, yes?" His question is so openly trusting, as if the only answer you can give is an affirmative yes, that it takes your breath away. This man..

"...yes."

The first place Sakusa takes you on what you've now realized is a second attempt at your much anticipated but canceled date from yesterday is far more extravagant than the simple park picnic you'd planned. The two of you spent about an hour's car ride before finally arriving at your destination - the breathtaking botanical gardens you're now strolling through.

It's everything you imagined and more, having never had the chance to visit previously, and it's the perfect time to see almost all the flowers at their very peak, in full, resplendent bloom. The air is heavy with the natural fragrance of the vast gardens, the scents tantalizing without becoming overwhelming, possibly due to the natural paths that divert from extremely aromatic sections at just the right pace and lead into refreshing contrast of scents as you weave through each of the different environmental hotspots.

Even Kiyo has his mask tucked down under his chin, the clean air and lack of crowds enabling an easy freedom from his usual concerns. You trail through most of the flower gardens in the southeast portion up to the northeast corner of the sprawling land before spying a maze of many tangled trees, all twisting and twining together in various formations.

As you approach, letting go of your boyfriend's hand to pull slightly ahead, you realize it's actually been cultured to grow as a real, living maze. There are arched entrances made from the same twisting bark, strands about the size of your wrist or smaller twining to cover more surface area in specific spots. You duck through one of the entrances to explore, marvelling at being able to hear Kiyoomi so clearly as he calls to you in exasperation to wait for him.

You don't intend to, of course, because you're delighted to discover this little marvel and that excitement only heightens your urge to tease and play with him a little. You're certain he's picked up his pace, hot on your trail as you duck through many different types of 'doorways' and 'windows', sacrificing your sense of direction to barely keep ahead.

He remains mostly quiet, calling your name softly every now and then, but you're undeniably attuned to his fall of his steps and continue to choose the direction that will take you most opposite him so as to avoid sudden junctions where the gnarled maze might allow him to cross your path in his pursuit.

As the sounds of nature start to dull around you, as if soaking into the depths of the maze, you realize that you too have already traversed further than you intended. It becomes more difficult to identify Kiyo's steps around you, lush grass growing steadily the farther in you seem to progress, even the curled branches seem to soften but you soon catch on to the reason why.

Soft buds are now visible and as you go deeper still, you encounter their full blooms, sprouting in a light pink blush. The path is more linear now, with almost no more forks or diversions to choose from, and before you realize it, you've arrived at the center of the maze. Directly in front, at its very heart, stands an elegant marble gazebo adorned with the same pink flowers yet with a complimentary mix of pale white and even dark red flowers threaded through, their striking petals peeking out as if from behind a latticed shield.

You've stopped entirely, taking a deep breath in as your eyes land first on the layered fountain, also gleaming marble, beyond the gazebo and then quickly shift to what's in between the two structures. Two wrought iron benches sit facing each other so that one only has to turn their head to each side to admire a different view and on one of the benches is what seems to be an abandoned picnic basket. Between the two benches sits a pastel picnic blanket, spread out with more than enough room for two.

You feel Sakusa's quiet presence behind you a second before his arm loops your waist and his smug whisper reaches your ear, "Caught you, little butterfly."

Your mouth drops open as you realized how deftly and thoroughly you were enticed into and maneuvered through this seemingly random maze. He really does know you too well, this beautiful man.

"You planned this?"

"You wanted a picnic, didn't you, love?" You don't have to see that small, satisfied smile of his to hear it in his tone. He's practically glowing with the success of achieving his goal.

You suppose, since you had to cancel the reservation at that special restaurant yesterday, he might have felt compelled to make it up in some way. At this point, however, everything starts to overwhelm you and the light sting at your eyes warns you that one of your rare, emotional moments might just intrude on this small moment.

It's Sakusa, grasping your chin to turn and tilt your face up to his, who answers your unspoken question, the one you need answered.

"Not a single moment for this day was planned from guilt. I just.. wanted to make you as happy as you make me."

"But Kiyo.. are you happy?"

He pauses as if to contemplate his current state but when he answers, he's clear and unhesitant, "I'm so incredibly happy, love. I get you all to myself in our own little corner of the world."

There's something about his words that sparks a memory of a thought you had yesterday, when you made what could have been considered sacrifices for him but was really an incredible, restful day you thoroughly enjoyed yourself from the very moment you'd committed to it. Fair enough then, you trust Sakusa to be unfailingly honest with you and can do nothing more than accept his genuine words. It would be a waste of his careful, meticulous plans to let any doubt ruin the day.

He leads you forward through the beautiful gazebo, moving slowly so you can admire the dedication that has gone into cultivating such a striking space, before helping you down onto the blanket. Once he retrieves the basket sitting idly by on the bench, because it was not in fact an abandoned item but a planned one, he rejoins you on the blanket so that you can examine the contents as you help him lay out the spread.

Incredible, he's somehow got your favourite food and drinks together, from substantial meals for you both, to delicious dessert, and even the drinks have remained chilled in the heat of a midsummer afternoon peak.

Hm.. "How exactly did this get here? You were with me the entire hour it took us to make our way up here and I would definitely have noticed you carrying this."

"I had some help."

"Not going to elaborate?" You give him your most pleading look, you actually think you have an idea but your curiosity is more focused on confirming your guess between several most likely possibilities.

But he just smiles and it's almost maddening when he replies, "No. I'd rather talk about what portions of the gardens you still want to visit. I definitely don't want to rush you but I was hoping to leave before it gets completely dark out."

"That's about three hours, right? "

"Yes, love."

You consider what you know of the gardens for a moment and then with certainty, you answer, "There are only two spots I'd like to see before dark. The butterfly garden and the pools, the ones they say make you feel like you're on some other, magical world."

"That's perfect," Sakusa reviews his mental map of the gardens, "They're both on our way through the loop that'll take us completely through the rest of the gardens. It shouldn't take us more than maybe an hour and a half to finish our tour here once we're done lunch."

You hesitate, something on your mind from his earlier statement about leaving before it's too dark, but decide to say, "There's also a whole section fitted with beautiful lights that turn with the sunset, it's been described to be mystical, like finding fairies playing in the gardens..."

"We'll be able to enjoy that on the way out, love, I've already checked."

"Oh." You pause for a moment in both surprise and appreciation, "You're just so well prepared today, aren't you?"

He arches an eyebrow with indignation, "When am I not?"

"Hm," you let out a chuckle at his expression before clarifying, "I mean, with the finer details of the date, Kiyo. You usually leave that to me?"

"Are you disappointed so far?"

"I'm as far from disappointed as I can be, baby." Without knowing, you answer Sakusa with a smile he's seen countless times today.

It's a stunning one but that's not what's so special about it - it's the very smile he loves to see adorn your face, this expression of complete joy and abandonment. A testament to your free spirit thriving even anchored to his grounded beast, the two of having met in the middle to ruin each other in the best way possible.

The remainder of the afternoon flutters by as you and Kiyo finish your meal before following the plan of action you discussed. The butterfly conservatory and oasis of pools are as breathtaking as expected, creating a multitude of small, precious moments for your memories. The fairy lights quite literally seem to be out of this world, almost as if you've been transported into a beautiful fantasy that's really just another perfect little corner of your shared world.

When you finish up at the gardens with the sun having set, you find out that Sakusa has yet another surprise in store for the day as you both first head home to change into semi-formal outfits. He looks decadent in his black silk button up and you finally get to wear the stunning cocktail dress he gifted to you on your last birthday.

You're moved to tears for the second time that day when you realize where he's taking you for dinner, the very restaurant you had to cancel the reservation for the day before. The same restaurant you both shared your very first date together, back when it was still a little known but elegant spot, long before becoming as popular as it today.

It's there, as you sit on the towering balcony, so unnervingly close to the skies and under a carpet of twinkling stars that you feel you could almost reach out and brush, that Sakusa finds his breath becoming shorter and hands shiver with nerves, as one slips into the pocket of his slacks to brush against the small velvet box that he's carried with him since your third month together.

There have been many small, perfect moments today, ones where his hand slipped in and out of his pocket as he debated if it was the right moment. This weekend has been an unexpected whirlwind of worthwhile compromises but the best example of why he knew, that very day he was drawn to step into the jewelry store, that there would never be anyone else he wanted by his side more than you.

It's at this small moment, in this quiet corner of his world with you, that your eyes meet his with your brilliant, perfect smile painting your lips, and Sakusa's hands suddenly still. His breath evens out, certainty calming his thoughts as his answering smile curves at his mouth. There's no doubt that with you, every moment is exactly the right moment.

A/N: Surprise! It's your date with Sakusa (adorably planned by Sakusa) <3 :D This is partially why completing your request took a little longer - I'm honestly so happy to be able to explore writing a request (so excited that I made it two oop-) and as I've mentioned by now, you were my first lol so I really wanted to make sure it was commemorated with something special. Also, how could I give you only just one or the other with the love of your life? He's literally perfect and has a piece of my heart too so once I thought about how to fulfill your request and landed on the first part, the second just kind of bloomed from it. An expected date turning into a lazy day and now a day that begins lazy but is really the most thoughtful of surprise date days planned by the man who treasures your love... I really hope this was along the lines of what you were looking for and that you enjoyed reading <3

Vibe. Oh, and in case you're curious, I had Daydream in Blue by I Monster on repeat for these :)

© 2021 fayeimara. All rights reserved. Please do not repost, modify, or claim as yours.

[emilycollins00]

I saw your requests were open so I 🥺👉🏼👈🏼 I’m not sure if you do Guy but if you do, maybe a scenario where the reader is dancing under the rain and having fun but Guy is worried for their health and is trying to coax them back in but the reader manages to pull Guy with them and start dancing together. I personally think Guy wouldn’t understand the concept or the appeal of dancing under the rain until he sees you and is dancing with you and just goes “oh” yknow 😔✊🏼 if you don’t do Guy or aren’t comfortable enough yet you could replace him with Juza/Tasuku

THIS REQUEST WAS EVERYTHING. I've wanted to write Guy for a while so this was absolutely wholesome to do, thank you Ever!

Hope you all enjoy it 💕

One soulful moment it's all it takes (Guy x Reader)

People say monotony kills the heart. Ironically, monotony is what also keeps the heart working.

It wasn’t that Guy enjoyed it per se, it's just that it was proven things got done quicker when you set up a system. It was more productive. More efficient. Waking up early every morning to practice karate was good to improve his health. Making and drinking tea also helped. Going fishing or taking care of Tsukioka’s garden had also become part of what he got used to when he started living in Mankai among other activities.

The only variant he could never seem to grasp was you.

“You should go out more!”

"I believe we are already outside."

"No- I mean, to play around, you know? Enjoy life! Nothing like a good bruise on your leg to remind you that you have a leg."

You always picked on him based on the consistency of his routines, on the rigidness of his answers. And while sometimes Guy had to admit he didn’t quite grasp the full meaning of what you said, he found you captivating, intriguing even.

Everyone around always seemed to have a smile next to you after all, and as you two got closer, Guy found himself wishing he could be half as carefree and adventurous as you.

“Come on!” You made him eat some of the food you had ordered- even though his own plate was more than enough for one person’s fill. “I can’t believe this is not making you smile. If you are not excited when you eat, you are doing something wrong.”

You always loved to try new things, which was why whenever you would suddenly appear at Mankai you would try and drag him all over Veludo. Openminded experiences, you liked to call them. It was also how Guy had gotten used to asking for places others recommended, such as the cat’s café, Veludo main acting street, or this new curry restaurant director and Usui had seemed to enjoy so much lately.

As you finished your meals and paid, you both stepped outside while making light talk. “Ah… that was spicy but delicious! Not Omi’s level though. I’ve only eaten snacks from him but I bet all his food tastes just as good. You guys are lucky.”

“Yes. He is one skilled young man even among other Zahran’s royal court's chefs I know. I have no doubt anyone that would try his cooking would think so as well.”

“Right? Anyway, I didn’t know you could handle spices so well,” you patted his arm happily. Those plates had been no joke, Chikage and Izumi were monsters. “I mean, you finished it all! I believed this was the time I was gonna see you making weird faces."

"Do you want me to?"

"No! I was joking Guy. You always take me too seriously I swear," you laughed as you both left the shopping district.

The winter member nodded, taking a mental note once again. From his early childhood memories he had always been told to be careful about everything, and was made to follow the path everyone told him to. And though there were times when he wanted to step out of the beaten path, he hadn't been much of a rebel- until Citronia left, that is. He would easily put those thoughts aside and go on doing whatever he was supposed to do.

All of a sudden a few drops fell, snapping him back in the present and made him blink surprised at the sky at the unexpected wet contact. He had seen the weathercast that morning over breakfast and it hadn’t said anything about raining.

“We should look for shelter before it becomes heavier.”

“Uh? What are you talking about?”

Guy stopped walking and met your questioning eyes, as if you truly didn’t understand what he had said. People around you both began passing by jogging with jackets, briefcases, or whatever object they might have in hand acting as umbrellas, and for a second he didn’t know how to explain it more clear. “The rain. We will get wet otherwise.”

There was a sound of thunder in the distance, which made people speed up their walking pace. Not you though.

“I know." you shrugged. "Still can’t see the problem.”

As the raindrops started to make their way through you, causing you to get wet, you stepped away from him, welcoming the cool drink from the clouds.

“Y/N? Where are you going?” he called out to you when you started moving around in circles.

The unaware worry tinted in his expression resonated in your mind. In time, you were able to control yourself enough to let out a snort of a laugh. "Nowhere. I'm dancing silly!" you replied, your voice high with joy and arms open up in the sky. "The rain feels good. I love to walk and dance in it. Don’t tell me you’ve never done this."

“But you will get sick.”

“Oh come on, healing rain is real!”

“Is that so.”

“Yeah! It can be physical healing or emotional or whatever you want it to.” You smiled. Your movements were rusty under the slow and endless drizzle, making jumpings and turns here and there. “It washes your sins away.”

Guy kept staring not entirely convinced. As much as he saw you enjoying yourself moving around in the rain, he had seen Tsukioka and a few other members from Mankai get sick just from running under in the rain on their way back home and all in all, he still didn't fully understand the point of what you were doing.

“It doesn’t seem very conclusive.” He looked around, trying to look for any shop that might sell umbrellas. Without any result he turned to you once again, rain getting heavier as you two talked. “If you wish to feel water running under you a shower could work as well, although I admit the space is considerably different if you decided to dance.”

“Oh for the love of-" you ran up to him, grabbing his elbow and forcing him to come out of the somewhat safe roof he had been guarding himself against since you had left him laughing. “Just come here. Now close your eyes and enjoy the music!”

He followed your instructions and stayed in silence for a few seconds, then he opened them. “There’s no music Y/N.”

“Of course there is! Try closing them again and pay attention.”

He followed your suggestion once again.

All was silent as before- All silent save the dripping rain. Then, as the breathful afternoon melted slowly and the cold caress of fresh air lapped up, Guy started to feel the drops around him. And while they were not synchronized, they created a sound worth listening to.

As you had indicated, he tried to let go of his inhibitions, allowing the rain to wash away the thoughts that had been roaming on his mind After a while he opened his eyes slightly, confused at the sudden feeling emerging within him. It was also when he found you still there, not having moved yet, smiling brightly -as the now hidden sun in front of him.

Ah. He didn’t know exactly why or how it had happened, but the connection between you was different from anything he had felt before.

“…I believe I am now listening to the music you spoke of.”

Sometimes one finds joy in the small and simple things. It could be the scent of the rain, the taste of your favorite food... others, it was the sound of a loved one's voice.

“What do you think Guy?”

He never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and feel the rain, however his eyes trailer over you, before silently stepping back instead. The sudden action made you tilt your head confused. You knew Zahfra wasn't that much of a humid place so it would make sense he might not be as comfortable as it was for other people to stand in the middle of the rain.

“Guy-”

“Y/N-"

You chuckled at how you both said each other names so suddenly. Just like in the movies. “You go first.”

He stared gaze at your figure for a second, before offering his right hand. Rain kept falling under you, no one else in sight. Just you, Guy, and the sound of rain.

“May I have this dance?”

As if it was possible, your eyes lighted up brighter than they had on the whole day, which surprised Guy to an extent. With a beaming smile you nodded, and so he took a step towards you. He wrapped his hands around you and pulled you slightly closer. The thunderbolts made your body shiver while you wrapped your arms around his neck. He could feel your every breath, and with every breath, your own heartbeats pumped faster.

A good lead should be soft yet subtle, stating their intentions by moving themselves, inviting their partners to follow along. Guy was alert, eyes scanning the surroundings ahead of him, watching traffic, other people, but also aware of what was happening right in his arms.

He treated your follow with respect, never forcing any movement. If he led a step or a pattern and you interpreted the movement differently than he had intended, he adapted to you rather than forcing change. He wanted to give you a sense of security, knowing you could fully depend on his lead the way he had learned to dance, however after a few clumsy fails followed by your laugh, he soon discovered it didn't matter how you both danced, just that you did.

“I think you know me better than I know myself.” He broke the silence after a while. You smiled.

“I’m not going to deny that.”

“I wish I could repay you for that, somehow.”

Laughing again you adjusted yourself so you could look up at him. His astonishingly beautiful green orbs finding yours once again, filled with overwhelming love and safety. “You are doing it right now.”

The corner of his eyes softened.

There were many things he had tried to chase away. Things he couldn’t remember, and others he didn’t let himself think about. Right now he was living, and nothing else seemed to matter anymore. He allowed you to take him anywhere you pleased on that made-up dance floor under the rain. You went right, he went right. You sped up, he sped up. Having you there, next to him like this, made him think about just how lucky he had become.

“…You are beautiful,” he whispered, touching your cheek with care, clearing the strands of wet hair that had gotten in the way.

You held on to him tighter.

“You are beautiful too.” You smiled, noses touching. Rain still falling over you both. “Didn't I tell you? That dancing in the rain deserved getting a cold.”

______________________________________________________

Wishing you all a wonderful day! 💕

[the-modernmary]

my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (ch. 6)

Chapter summary: Your weekend at Aaron’s place continues, and he reflects on your relationship and what it all means. The team finds out.

Warnings: morning sex, thigh riding, little bit of dirty talk? allusions to office sex. pretty tame tbh. minors DNI

A/N: Posting these on tumblr is so much fun because I forgot that this is one of my favorite chapters in this whole story. This chapter is pretty long, but it has Hotch’s pov and team shenanigans, and pining!! Thank you all so much for your likes and reblogs and just all of the sweet things everybody has said so far about this story!!! As always, my ask box is always open if anybody wants to talk about this story or CM/hotch in general, or just wants somebody to talk to!!

masterlist || read on ao3

“You call the shots babe

I just wanna be yours

Secrets I have held in my heart

Are harder to hide than I thought

Maybe I just wanna be yours

I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours”

- Arctic Monkeys, “I Wanna Be Yours”

 ~~~~~~~

If there was one thing you liked more than sleeping with Aaron, you decided, it was waking up next to him. That was probably in part because it just didn’t happen very often. Most mornings were a frantic rush to get to work or school, and too often Aaron was up, showered, and dressed before you even got out of bed. It worked, though, and you didn’t have to worry about your respective morning routines being thrown off. 

  It was also the same reason the two of you kept clothes at each other’s places. One of the first times Aaron had spent the night at your apartment, he got called into the BAU early for a case and couldn’t go home to change, which meant he had spent an entire week in some tiny Montana town avoiding the questioning stares of everybody on his team, trying to figure out where he had spent the night.

  Or there was the time when you decided to tease Aaron a little too much and he ended up tearing the buttons off your blouse, meaning you had to find a way to style one of his oversized button ups to wear to court. Having a drawer at each other’s places wasn’t some big declaration of feelings or taking things to the next step, it was just being smart and proactive.

  And as a bonus, the efficiency of the morning routines plus already having clothes meant plenty of time for morning sex.

Aaron’s arm was draped lazily over your waist, not exactly pulling you in towards him, and keeping you at a distance. But it was comforting all the same knowing that, even in his sleep, he still wanted you. At the beginning of your fling, you had teased Aaron for being a cuddler, and he had just said it was because he liked knowing that you were safe and with him and that it grounded him. It didn’t take much longer for you to realize that Aaron Hotchner was a lot lonelier than he let on.

  You could feel Aaron’s breath on the back of your neck as you stretched languidly, every muscle in your body happily sore. It would be so easy to just fall back asleep and let the morning pass both of you by. You had all weekend, and you were sure that you and Aaron would need your rest whenever you could get it. You pulled the covers closer to your frame and curled up even more, savoring the warmth of the bed and letting out a content sigh.

  “If you keep stealing the covers,” came Aaron’s raspy mumble, “We’re going to have to start using two separate blankets.”

  A small smile tugged on the corners of your lips as you turned around so you could face Aaron. He must have been up for a while if he was already using full sentences, which meant that he had made the somewhat conscious decision to stay in bed with you. Those stupid butterflies from the night before came back in full force. His eyes were still closed, but he had a smug smirk gracing his face as he pulled you closer to him, your legs quickly tangling with his.

  Another good thing about waking up next to Aaron was that he looked downright sinful in the mornings, especially when he had just the faintest hint of stubble on his chin like he did then. The lines of his perpetually furrowed brows all but disappeared and his hair was much messier than usual, although you were more than likely the cause of that last night. You could see the faint scratches on his shoulders and bruises on his collarbone, also your doing. 

  You were sure you had just as many marks on your body, if not more. Aaron was patient and he knew how to read every little reaction you gave him in order to make you a whimpering mess. You probably would have been annoyed at how easily he could read you if it didn’t feel so good.

  You let out a soft “humph” as you buried your face into his bare chest, breathing him in. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on making your house an icebox…”

  Your words trailed off as Aaron slipped his hand that was on your back under your - his - shirt so that he could run his fingers up and down your spine. He propped his head up on his other hand, finally letting his eyes open to look at you. The sunlight filtering through the window brought out the tiny flecks of gold in his eyes.

  “Wanted to make sure you stayed in bed,” he admitted, his eyes shamelessly tracing you up and down and you could feel his growing morning wood pressed against you.

  You squeezed your thighs together as you traced small patterns over his bare chest with your fingertips. “By making it too cold for me to even grab a jacket?” you teased.

  Aaron just shrugged, still mindlessly rubbing the bare skin of your back. “It worked, didn’t it? Besides…” His hand moved to rest on your waist, his thumb teasing the underside of your breast. “I can think of a few ways to warm up.”

  You smirked and lifted your head to bring a kiss up to his neck, leaving a small bruise in its wake. “Oh?” you asked with a lifted eyebrow. “I wouldn’t mind going for round two.”

  A giggle slipped past your lips as Aaron rolled over, pulling you on top of him so that you were straddling his hips. “By the end of this weekend, we’ll definitely get to round two,” he mumbled in between kisses. “Or round three..” Another kiss. “Maybe four…” Another kiss. “Five if we’re feeling especially ambitious.” His fingers hooked on the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down swiftly.

  You smiled into the kisses and you let your fingers run through Aaron’s hair, your nails lightly scratching at his scalp. You could feel his erection pressing against you and you grinded down on him. Aaron rewarded you with one of his delicious moans. His hands slid up your sides and pulled off the shirt you were wearing in one fluid motion, his mouth immediately attaching to your nipple, his tongue moving in circles as his lips pulled and tugged until you cried out his name.

  His hands moved back down to grip your hips, slowly rocking your hips back and forth on him. “Aaron,” you breathed out, your senses completely overwhelmed. He was sitting up now and kissing his way up to your neck, determined to leave you with as many marks as possible.

  “Do you wanna cum like this?” he practically growled, his scruff brushing against your sensitive skin. “Grinding on my thigh, greedy and desperate? Was three orgasms not enough last night?”

  You gripped his shoulders, moving your hips faster now, dizzy with want. “Yes, fuck ,” you moaned, pressing down with as much force as you could muster, only the thin fabric of his pajamas pants keeping you from what you wanted. Nothing would be close enough to him, but you could certainly try. Aaron lifted his thigh and his grip on your hips got tighter, already forming bruises.

  Aaron watched you intently as you felt your orgasm build up, his lips parted ever so slightly. He loved to watch you fall apart, loved the power it gave him. And you loved to watch him watch you come apart, because the open-mouth smile he gave you made it look like he worshiped the ground you walked on. You were all too willing to give him a show.

  You threw your head back as you panted, desperate for your release. “Please, I’m so close,” you begged, speeding up your hips even more.

  He released one hand from your hips and dragged his nails up your body, leaving little pink lines in his wake, until his hand could rest comfortably on your throat. Aaron didn’t put any pressure, but you were wound so tightly that any touch would have set you off.

  “Cum for me ,” Aaron demanded, and your body immediately listened

  Your whole body shook as your orgasm slammed into you, but you managed to keep your eyes locked with his, giving him a primal smile, which only made his eyes darken even more with lust. Aaron took the hand on your throat and moved it up to cup your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss. It was needy and desperate, maybe even a little clumsy as you lifted off his lap just enough to finally pull his pajama pants down. 

  You reached your hand down to pump him lazily a few times, your thumb swiping over the tip of his cock teasingly. Part of you wanted to tease Aaron, to see if you could make him whine and beg for you to fuck him. A larger, needier part of you just wanted to ride Aaron so that you could hear more praises from him.

  Aaron made that decision for you. “Do you think you’re going to ride me?” he asked condescendingly, as if to say you’re cute if you think you’re in charge.

  You continued to stroke Aaron’s erection, twisting your wrist in just the right way to get Aaron to moan for you. “I will if you ask nicely,” you mused, your voice even, but even as you said it, you were already slowly sinking down on his cock, moaning at the feeling of him stretching you. You were still a little sore from last night, but it quickly turned into pleasure. 

  Before you could fully take all of him into you, Aaron snapped his hips up, hitting you in all the right places. You gasped out, your pussy clenching involuntarily around him.

  That just made Aaron smirk and thrust up into you again. “I don’t need to ask to take what’s mine,” he hissed, but his voice was strained, like it was taking all of his energy to keep a steady tone. “And you, my dear, are mine.”

  Every word was just encouragement for you to ride him faster, wanting to hear him moan some more. “I’m yours,” you agreed, burying your face in his neck.

  He took one of your hands that was clinging onto his shoulder for dear life and guided it down to your clit. “Touch yourself,” he ordered, leaning back just enough so that he could get a good look at you. “I want to watch you.”

  You immediately started to circle your swollen clit, and the stimulation was almost too much. Almost. But the look on Aaron’s face as he watched you work yourself over, so full of lust and want, was more than enough encouragement for you.

  “Like this?” you asked innocently, and you could feel his dick throb inside you.

  Aaron let your name fall from his lips, coming out as a sigh. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he groaned before capturing your lips in a kiss. 

  It didn’t take long for you to cum again, moaning his name into his lips as your walls fluttered around him. You didn’t dare stop kissing him, though, and you especially didn’t dare stop riding Aaron. You wanted to feel him deeper in you. Your legs were shaking and a thin sheen of sweat covered you, but you wanted him to come apart, lose control.

  When he came, he held you in place and pressed his forehead against yours, wanting to watch every little reaction you made. You whimpered as he filled you, his dick twitching inside of you. You were exhausted in the best way and your skin was warm to the touch. The two of you stayed like that for a few appreciative moments, heavy breathing being the only sound in the room.

  It really was easy to imagine that this was your life, to pretend that you would be able to wake up next to Aaron and have two orgasms before breakfast as much as you wanted. But reality came back all too harshly in the form of Aaron’s phone ringing. Both of you let out groans of annoyance as you pulled yourself off of him. Aaron technically had weekends off, but he was always on call, which meant no phone call could go unanswered.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered, reaching over to the nightstand to grab his cell.

  You chuckled and placed a quick kiss on his lips. “So much for round two, hm?” you teased. “You answer that. I’m going to go shower.” You winced as you climbed out of bed, feeling the soreness spread across your body. You were going to get absolutely wrecked this weekend, and you honestly couldn’t wait. You looked back at Aaron as he answered the phone, and you were surprised to see him staring right at you, looking at you with a softness that nobody had ever looked at you with before. It terrified you.

  ~~~~~~~

  Sometimes, Aaron wondered what Y/N was getting out of this… whatever this was. Companionship, maybe, but he couldn’t imagine she had any problems in that area. She was young, pretty, and charming, and he had seen her turn down a handful of numbers that were thrown her way by men much more suitable for her.

  At the very beginning, he thought that maybe she was just trying to get an extra foot in the door of her career. He wondered if she was just overly ambitious and calculating, and used his lust for her to get exactly what she wanted. But that theory was tossed to the side almost as quickly as he thought about it when she had announced proudly that she was doing her project in her Torts class on a case that he had overseen at the beginning of his prosecuting career.

“The other cases were more interesting,” she had told him teasingly, “But it’s going to be so much fun to see your face when I rip your argument to shreds.”

  Yeah, she didn’t need him to succeed in her career. She was going to do just fine.

  So the only other reason he could think of was that she just genuinely enjoyed his company and wanted to be around him. That would certainly explain why she snuck around with him for almost an entire year, rendezvousing at unpredictable times and keeping their knowledge of each other a secret. It would also explain why she was so willing to let him back into her life as if nothing had changed. She was smart enough to know that Aaron was a changed man and that there would be a lot more baggage this time around, but none of that seemed to bother her.

  Although he couldn’t quite figure out why she stuck around, he couldn’t deny that it made him happy. He liked having somebody around who genuinely wanted to spend time with him, instead of just being around because they worked together, like an obligation. Aaron liked to think that he had gotten pretty good at predicting the things she might ask for, and he was more than happy to keep giving them to her if it meant she would stick around for a while longer.

  After the phone call that was entirely too long and completely unnecessary, Aaron grabbed some clothes and went to rinse off in the shower quickly. He heard Y/N get out of the shower and start to raid his kitchen minutes before, which he had already planned for. On a whim during his bi-weekly grocery store run, he grabbed a few things for when she inevitably stayed over - caramel syrup for coffee, an extra toothbrush, a pack of hair ties to keep in his bathroom, and a bag of her favorite salt-and-vinegar chips.

  Once he got dressed and ready for the day, he walked out into the kitchen, where she was talking on her phone, leaning on the counter and laughing, a cup of iced coffee right next to her. “Yeah, no,” he heard her say. “I think it’s going really well and- I know. I learned my lesson about the melatonin thing.”

  At the sound of his footsteps, she turned her head and smiled at Aaron, noticing his presence. She kept her eyes locked with his as she continued her phone conversation. “Hey, I have to go, but I’ll-” she paused, obviously cut off by the person on the other side of the line. A blush spread across her cheeks and she laughed again. “Oh my god, shut the fuck up. I will talk to you later. Goodbye, my love.”

  Aaron watched the interaction with curiosity. Every once in awhile, he would catch glimpses of the college student version of her that he rarely saw. She always held herself with such an air of confidence and intelligence around him, and she was so quick-witted that it was easy to forget that she was still just a law student, still finding her way in the world. She seemed to carefully plan the version of herself that she would be in front of Aaron, and even more carefully hid the versions of herself that she didn’t want to be.

  It had intrigued him when she was helping with the case, hearing her in a professional setting. He knew she was smart and good at what she did, but seeing it in practice was an entirely different thing.

  However, the case also brought another facet of who Y/N was. Hearing her conversations with her friends, listening to her gossip and being more carefree, was different. There was a girlish quality to her that he had never really seen, and it confused him. He wanted to fuck her until she was screaming out his name, crying and begging for him. He wanted to see her smile up at him while she was on her knees. Hell, he even wanted to just lay on the couch and listen to her talk about her classes, let her tell him all about the weird guy who wears a full three-piece suit to class, and share take out with her.

  But now, he also wanted to protect her, but he wasn’t quite sure from what. The reality of the profession she was going into? The many corporate men who were bound to just see her as a pretty thing? The world? Himself, maybe?

  She slipped the phone into her back pocket, blissfully unaware of the thoughts swirling in Aaron’s brains. “Sorry, that was Aly, my friend,” she explained before he even had a chance to ask.

  Aaron gave a soft hum of acknowledgment. “Aly... That’s the one you lived with in high school after your mom-”

  “Yeah,” she cut him off firmly, signifying the end of that conversation. “That’s her. Do you have to go to work?”

  Aaron could have sworn he heard the slightest bit of disappointment in her question, and it tugged at his heart, because he had heard that exact question with that exact hidden disappointment too many times.

  It was unfair to compare her to Haley, and he knew that. She didn’t want to be his “New Haley” something she had made very clear two years ago. Neither of them expected this to lead to wedding bells, a white picket fence, and a dog, and they weren’t going to make major sacrifices to be with each other, especially in regards to their respective careers. The disappointment was more than likely him projecting.

  That didn’t stop the twinge of guilt that threatened to consume him.

  “No, I don’t,” he finally said. “Metro PD had a question about some of the files that were sent over about the case, which could and should have been handled by the agents actually working today instead of going straight to me.” Aaron had a hard time hiding the growing annoyance in his words. It wasn’t the officers’ fault they got shit training.

  She shot an amused smirk Aaron’s way, bringing her coffee up to her lips. “Aw, that’s cute,” she teased. “Maybe they just wanted answers from the big boss man?”

  Aaron scoffed as he made his way towards his Keurig, which was already loaded with his brew of choice and a mug readily placed, no doubt Y/N’s doing. All he needed to do was press a button. She was pretty good at anticipating his wants, too, and even better at knowing what he needed before he even knew.

  “Yeah, well, arresting a group of prolific lawyers isn’t going to be anything short of a pain in the ass.”

  Once his coffee was poured, he turned back to face Y/N, whose eyes were now unfocused and deep in thought. “Right, yeah,” she murmured, more to herself than to Aaron. “They’re all going to jail…”

  Aaron’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched her mouth to herself. She did that when she was trying to work out a problem, like she was presenting the arguments and counter-arguments to herself. “Penny for your thoughts?” he asked.

  Her eyes snapped back up to Aaron, as if she just remembered he was there. “I just- You can’t have a law firm without the partners and I just realized that I don’t have an internship anymore, which I’m going to have to try and explain to my professors because I need those credits to graduate. And I don’t have a job offer either, which means I am back at the bottom.”

  “I’m sorry,” Aaron said, unable to think of anything better to say. Truth be told, he hadn’t considered the collateral damage to the rest of the employees who had no clue what was going on behind closed doors.

  She shrugged, but her eyes were still distant. “Oh, it’s fine. I didn’t even want to work in the private sector long term. Prosecutors all work for the government, anyway. The private sector only has the specialized training programs, flexible hours, ability to choose your own clients, and the crazy high salaries…” She trailed off almost dreamily before taking an audible breath.

  “Well…” Aaron started, choosing every word carefully. He knew that he was walking a tightrope and that his next offer could very easily come back and bite him in the ass, but it wasn’t the first time Aaron had bent the rules, and it wasn’t going to be his last. “I can’t do much in the way of a job offer, but the FBI does hire interns for our in house legal team. It’s not exactly prosecuting, but it would be closer to your career goals. You would still need to apply, but I know the head of the division and I’m sure we could expedite your application.”

  Her knuckles turned white as she gripped her coffee cup so tight that Aaron was sure it was going to shatter. “I don’t need to sleep my way to an internship,” she said sharply.

  Aaron nodded in agreement. “I know that, and you’re not,” he promised. “This is an offer from the BAU Unit chief as an official thank you from the FBI for your help in the investigation.” Noticing her hesitation, he decided to continue. “My reputation is on the line, too. I wouldn’t be suggesting this if I didn’t think you deserved it. You’re top of your class and the head of law review. I can show them the audio files of the work you’ve done this past week at the other internship. It’s still merit based, and you would still have to beat out other candidates, but I would ensure your application gets looked at immediately. Can you get me a copy of your transcript and resume?”

  The tension from her shoulders released slightly, but she was still staring at Aaron cautiously, weighing her options. “Yes,” she whispered finally, before repeating it louder and with more confidence. “I can email them to you right now. Thank you, Aaron. Really.”

  Aaron smiled down at her. “It’s no problem. The FBI would be lucky to have you. And Y/N…” he added, making a lighthearted attempt at breaking through the tension. “I have a direct line to the director. If you wanted to sleep your way to the top, I would hope you would be more ambitious to shoot for something a little more prestigious than a temporary internship.”

  Y/N laughed, her entire demeanor switching back to the more playful version of herself. “So does this mean I don’t get to give you a thank you?” she asked, bringing her bottom lip in between her teeth.

  Aaron raised his eyebrows and smirked, using one of his fingers to lift her chin up to him. “What did you have in mind?”

  She raised herself on her toes just high enough to give him a quick peck on the lips before bouncing away from him. It would be cute if he didn’t see the smug grin that erupted across her face. “I make the best breakfast burritos you’ll ever have,” she told him matter-of-factly, throwing a cheeky smile his way.

  Aaron chuckled, ignoring the way his chest tightened. “Do you make a habit of making breakfast for all the people who offer you jobs?”

  She clicked her tongue as she rifled through his fridge, pulling out all the ingredients she would need. “Only the ones I really like,” she mused. “And I figure we’re both going to need the nutrition if we’re going to get to those five rounds this weekend that you promised.”

  Aaron’s chest tightened even more, and for the first time since he met Y/N, he wondered if he was in way over his head.

  ~~~~~~~

  It had become almost a tradition of sorts in the BAU, guessing why Hotch had his office door closed. It started as nervous chatter - Was somebody after them? Was Strauss making another plan to rip apart the team? - but the team realized that the more ridiculous the guess, the easier it was to wait for an actual answer. So the BAU team, minus Rossi and Hotch, all sat around their desks, only half paying attention to their work as they talked amongst themselves. 

  This morning, the prevailing theory was that, since Hotch got into work early, he decided to fall back asleep. His office was completely closed off to the rest of the bullpen, even going as far as shutting the blinds. They couldn’t blame him - he probably wasn’t getting much sleep at home being a single dad, and they knew that the brass gave him way more paperwork than one man should ever have to handle. Him taking a quick power nap in his offer was, in their eyes, completely deserved.

  Which is why they were surprised when a familiar figure emerged from his office, shaking his hand quickly before making her way towards the glass doors, combing her fingers through her hair.

  “Why was Y/N Y/L/N talking to Hotch?” Reid asked, sitting up slightly in his chair.

  Garcia, who was sitting on the edge of Morgan’s desk, had a confused look on her face. “Who?” she asked, pouting only slightly. She didn’t like to be out of the loop.

  Emily repeated the name back to her. “She’s the one who helped us on that hitman case, but I thought we closed that two weeks ago?”

  Garcia’s confusion only increased. “If she’s talking to Hotch, does that mean it’s not closed? Why wouldn’t he tell all of us?”

  Morgan shrugged, watching Y/N as she made her way across the bullpen. “I guess we’ll find out now, won’t we?” Morgan waved her over, and if she was surprised by it, she hid it well.

  “Hey, Y/N,” JJ greeted, and the younger woman waved at the group. “It’s good to see you again. Is everything okay? You were in there for a while.”

  Y/N nodded enthusiastically, a small blush rising onto her cheeks. “Yeah, everything’s great! That internship was required for me to be able to graduate this year, and since I helped with the investigation, the FBI was kind enough to offer me an intern position here. Unfortunately, the legal team director got swept up in meetings this morning, so Agent Hotchner went over the intake paperwork with me,” she explained, almost too casually. The words rolled off her tongue like they had been rehearsed.

  “Well then, congrats and welcome to the FBI,” Emily said. “If you ever need anything, you know where to find us.”

  “I am always looking for a lunch buddy,” Garcia interjected, “Especially when the rest of them are off on a case. Oh, and you should come out to drinks with us one night!”

  Y/N chuckled and shoved her hands into her pockets. “Thank you, that sounds like fun. Oh, Dr. Reid, maybe I can take you up on that offer of a tour?” Spencer nodded, a little shocked that she had remembered that conversation. “Well, I should head down to the 3rd floor. Don’t want to be late on my first day. I’ll see you all around though.”

  The team watched Y/N walk out the glass doors to the elevator, and as soon as she was out of earshot, the girls erupted in a fit of giggles.

  Morgan and Reid shared a look of confusion. “Okay, Babygirl,” Morgan groaned. “What was that about? Inviting her out with us? You just met her.”

  That only served to make Garcia laugh harder. “Some profiler you are,” she teased, before turning her attention back to Emily and JJ. “Okay, don’t worry, I will not do any sort of unethical digging, just normal social media snooping. I promise.” With that, Garcia made her way quickly back to her Bat Cave, an extra pep in her step.

  Morgan shot the remaining two girls a questioning look. “Why is she snooping on some random intern?” he pressed.

  Emily chuckled in disbelief. “Seriously? You couldn’t see it?”

  “See what?” Morgan asked, frustration evident in his voice.

  JJ looked back up at Hotch’s office, a knowing smile on her face. “Because that random intern, who, remember, spent an entire interrogation flirting with Hotch, just left his office with smudged lipstick and a missing button on her shirt.”

  Recognition flashed in Morgan’s eyes as he chuckled to himself, tapping his fingers on his desk. “Huh. Who knew Hotch still had it in him? My man, good for him.”

  Reid looked at the rest of the profilers, his eyebrows scrunched together. “Wait, what happened?” he asked, still unable to put the pieces together. “Did I miss something?”

  Morgan smirked and ruffled Reid’s hair. “We’ll explain it later, Pretty Boy. I promise.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Hello love, I was wondering for the ask meme if you could do a 'wei ying is adopted by the wens and eventually kills wen ruohan and becomes sect leader thing' Please include lan zhan in some way and also please no angst, or very very little angst, (I have a very weak heart) ((one night stands, prostitution, accidental mpreg etc are no go as well, sorry again))

Wen Wuxian was a good lieutenant. He was efficient and effective, a brilliant cultivator, a talent in all six arts that routinely won merit for his sect – his sect leader, Wen Ruohan, would often award him the highest honors, even allowing him to serve as an independent leader alongside his own sons.

It was a real pity how all of that was about to go flying out the window because he couldn’t stop himself from continuously stalking Lan Wangji.

It was ridiculous.

He was supposed to be guarding the sect heirs, all of them: if Wen Chao was the leader of the indoctrination camp, then he was its watchdog (not a literal dog, thankfully, he hated dogs). It was his job to make sure they didn’t conspire against the sect, that they didn’t make plans to escape, that they didn’t rebel – to act as both authority and spy, whichever was necessary.

And instead he was spending all his time mooning over a pretty boy with face carved out of an ice block.

Who didn’t. even. like. him.

Wen Wuxian – it had once been Wei, but of course he had long ago won the right to change it to Wen, and it wasn’t like that was an honor that could be refused – could do so much better. He was a Wen now: there were dozens of small sect leaders who would be happy to hand their virgin daughters over to him if it got them some more influence with Wen Ruohan, or even to convince their sons to cut their sleeves for him if that was what he (apparently!) liked.

But no.

Stone-faced, no-humor, quiet-as-a-rock Lan Wangji. 

Whose posture was as straight as a ruler, whose fighting forms were as graceful as a crane, whose ears turned the most adorable shade of red when Wen Wuxian teased him, who got drunk on a single cup of wine, who rivaled the sun and moon in the rare moments when he smiled –

Wen Wuxian buried his face in his hands.

He was an idiot.

He almost wished he could back five years to before Wen Qing had told him, quite frankly, that the only way to survive being talented in the Wen sect was to learn to understand people, and that the first person he needed to learn to understand was himself – he would much rather have been happy and ignorant of why he was so repeatedly neglecting his duties in favor of fluttering around Lan Wangji like a moth irrevocable summoned towards the flame, like a butterfly unable to resist visiting its favorite flower.

It wasn’t as though this crush could go anywhere.

After all, Lan Wangji was a Lan – he had just lost his home, broken his leg, and the culprit for all that was Wen Xu. Why would he ever agree to even consider another Wen romantically?

Sure, Wen Wuxian had a long-simmering plan designed to eliminate the main family and seize control of the Wen sect, preferably a considerably slimmed-down version that didn’t have pretensions of ruling the entire cultivation world, and, yes, the burning of the Cloud Recesses had suddenly climbed up remarkably high on his list of ‘reasons to get rid of Wen Xu’, but it wasn’t like Lan Wangji knew that.

The only people that knew that were his allies: Wen Qing and her family, the subordinates he’d trained, the sect members he’d recruited through bribery and promises of power, and a scarce handful of outsiders, only the ones he trusted, like the Nie sect leader whose father, like Wen Wuxian’s father, had died at the hands of Wen Ruohan.

No, Lan Wangji was far too righteous to ever associate with someone like Wen Wuxian.

In fact, the only reason he spent time with him at all was probably to hide the fact that the other sect heirs were totally conspiring about something. Something that Wen Wuxian should be tracking down, figuring out, because the only way his little coup was going to work was if he lived long enough to make it work. He should go get on that, instead of going to meet Lan Wangji out in a field under the light of the moon –

Wow. Lan Wangji looked even prettier under moonlight.

“Lan Zhan,” he said, even though Lan Wangji had definitely never given him permission to use that name. He’d had to look it up in the sect records. “You asked me to meet you?”

Here? At night? Alone? Do you have no care for the state of my heart?

Lan Wangji looked at him for a long moment.

“…Brother is good friends with Sect Leader Nie,” he finally said.

Wen Wuxian blinked. “Is that…relevant?”

“He told me.”

“Told you about…?” Wen Wuxian’s brain finally kicked in. “He told you about that?!”

How could he? Nie Mingjue knew what a secret it was! He couldn’t go around trusting people with the lives of Wen Wuxian and everyone he cared about –

Lan Wangji slipped his hand into Wen Wuxian’s, and suddenly all his thoughts came to a screeching halt.

“You’re a good man,” Lan Wangji said. “I want to help you.”

“I want to kiss you,” Wen Wuxian blurted out.

Lan Wangji paused, and Wen Wuxian cursed himself for a fool. Why did he always do this –

“That would be fine.”

“…fine?”

“Mn.”

“Fine as in me wanting to is fine, you’re not going to hold it against me, or fine as in –”

Lan Wangji shut Wen Wuxian’s mouth with his own.

“I take it all back,” Wen Wuxian said the second he was released. “Nie Mingjue is a genius, and I don’t care what your friends are scheming about. Can we do this some more?”

Lan Wangji’s lips curved up, and it was even more beautiful when he was sober.

Wen Wuxian would burn down the Wen empire to marry this man.

To be fair, he’d do it anyway, but the intention was still there.

[thisaliennerd]

so true blaine, sam and britt are autistic!! but post about it i wanna know why u think that

I literally only needed one person to ask me this, so thank you for being that person, anon! Britt is very self-explanatory, and Sam is also pretty obvious imo (although I do have lots of notes on him too), but since I think Blaine needs a little bit more explaining, here is my evidence as to why I think he’s autistic.

First of all, let’s look at some of the common symptoms of autism in adults:

Difficulty interpreting what others are thinking or feeling

Trouble interpreting facial expressions, body language, or social cues

Difficulty regulating emotion

Trouble keeping up a conversation

Inflection that does not reflect feelings

Difficulty maintaining the natural give-and-take of a conversation; prone to monologues on a favorite subject

Tendency to engage in repetitive or routine behaviors

Only participates in a restricted range of activities

Strict consistency to daily routines; outbursts when changes occur

Exhibiting strong, special interests

I think Blaine exhibits all or almost all of these things throughout the show, so let’s go through the list, point by point (with examples):

First, difficulty interpreting what others are thinking or feeling. Blaine is very bad at this, especially romantic feelings. He doesn’t catch on to Kurt or Tina having crushes on him for way too long even though neither of them are subtle about it. He also doesn’t seem to pick up on most of Sebastian’s stuff. He seems to be aware that he’s hitting on him, but he doesn’t seem to be aware of his rivalry with Kurt or any of his malicious intent. Every time he and Kurt get into a fight he needs Kurt to explicitly tell him what’s wrong. 

Second, trouble interpreting facial expressions, body language, or social cues. Blaine is TERRIBLE at this. He doesn’t understand sarcasm, he can never tell when people are lying to him, he often doesn’t understand how to talk to his peers, and he has no idea when people are uncomfortable. I have so many examples for this and the first point, but here’s just a small sample: s2e12 (22:15) - not getting that Jeremiah was very uncomfortable with the song, s5e9 (37:20) - when he’s named valedictorian instead of Artie or Tina, he apologizes to them and says that he thinks that things get handed to him, they sarcastically say they haven’t noticed, and Blaine believes them, s5e14 (15:10) - when he asks Kurt if he’s smothering him, and Kurt lies and says no, he believes him even though Kurt is a terrible liar, and (my favorite example of this) in s6e5 (40:15) - saying that he should thank Sue for trapping them in that elevator because now he and Kurt are just friends, and she says, “So thank me” and he actually says thank you (followed by Kurt saying, “Don’t actually thank her!” - amazing).

Third, difficulty regulating emotion. Blaine is very bad at regulating his emotions, especially negative ones. Most notably, anger. Blaine has intense angry outbursts, which will tie in later. Examples of this: season 3 episode 8 (13:50) - getting into a fight with Sam, season 5 episode 14 (26:50 and 27:20) - yelling at Elliot, and season 3 episode 15 (22:35) - outburst at Cooper.

Fourth, trouble keeping up a conversation. Blaine frequently talks about how he’s bad at communication and talking to people, especially about feelings, outside of song. He often has to sing to say bad news or confess things. Examples of this: Singing to tell Kurt about him cheating (s4e4 - 14:30), singing to confess his feelings to Sam (s4e17 - 21:15), singing to tell Kurt he’s not in June’s showcase (s5e20 - 10:40). When he is confronted by a conversation that makes him uncomfortable or that he wasn’t prepared for, he often has to shut down to think about it. Examples of this are when Kurt confesses his crush in season 2 episode 12 (30:40), Sam telling him he knew about Blaine’s crush in season 4 episode 17 (37:10), and the Frat Boy Physicals incident in season 5 episode 16 (21:05).

Fifth, inflection that does not reflect feelings. Generally, Blaine seems to be pretty good at this, especially in comparison to Brittany, but when he gets upset, he does sometimes get weirdly monotoned or just puts on a strange tone of voice. The best example of this I have is in season six, episode four (9:40 and 10:10).

Sixth, difficulty maintaining the natural give-and-take of a conversation; prone to monologues on a favorite subject. This is definitely true, especially when he gets upset about things. Season 5 episode 7 has the best examples of this, he starts by trying to lead the glee club in Mr. Shue’s absence, but he ends up coming on too strong and speaking over his peers (00:40). Next, when Kurt implies that he’s being a puppet master, he gets very upset, and keeps focusing on and coming back to that, even when Kurt tries to change the subject (6:45), and finally, he starts ranting to Brad, and cuts him off when Brad tries to chime in with his problems (11:40). 

Seventh, tendency to engage in repetitive or routine behaviors. Blaine has the most consistent clothing and presentation out of anyone in the show, and as seen in season 3 episode 15 (17:15 and 38:10) and in season 5 episode 6 (28:15), Blaine has been dressing like this and doing his hair the same way since he was a kid. He even owns the same shirt in multiple colors (season 5 episode 6: 27:25). In season 4 episode 17, he talks to Sam about how his daily routine and how he walks the exact same way from class every day (00:45). This is also the first time Blaine mentions efficiency, he measures his routine down to the second, and it being efficient is really important to him. This comes back in season 5 episode 14 when he’s trying to make the loft more efficient (23:05). He also reveals in season 5 episode 20 that he needs to measure the stage before performing in order to improv (7:30).

Eighth, only participates in a restricted range of activities. Now you may be thinking, but Miriam, this doesn’t apply, wasn’t he president of like every club his senior year? Yes, he was, but this actually doesn’t disprove this one. He still really is focused on a few activities like glee club, student council, and school in general. He only signs up for the other clubs in a time of crisis, and he’s never seen doing anything outside of school in college or in seasons 2 or 3 (except for his special interests). And as these are all school clubs, that meet on school grounds, they’re still in his comfort zone. 

Ninth, strict consistency to daily routines, and outbursts when changes occur. So we’ve talked about his routines, what happens when they’re broken? In season 5 episode 14, Blaine attempts to set routines with Kurt, making him breakfast every day, scheduling their days rigorously, etc., which leads Kurt to feeling smothered, but Blaine tells Elliot that he feels like he doesn’t know how to communicate. He feels very uncomfortable with the change of living in New York and the shift in the power dynamic between them. This is reinforced a few episodes later in episode 16, when these issues come back. In addition, episode 16 has an example of Blaine having an outburst when a short-term plan is disrupted. He and Kurt had planned to walk to class together, and Kurt had bailed without telling him, and Blaine gets very upset (23:05). Another example of this is when he finds Tina and Sam making out in season 5 episode 10 (24:45, 29:30). Their plans were disrupted, and he has an outburst/meltdown. Another example of long-term routines being disrupted is in season 3 episode 8. Sam has just come back to McKinley, and immediately, Sam and Blaine dislike each other. They’re both trying to choreograph and don’t like each other’s ideas, and they get into a fight that gets physical. Both of them are having an outburst due to the other invading the other’s space and routines (13:50). This then becomes an example of point three, as Blaine is seen boxing (physical reaction) to regulate his emotions (effectively stimming), which he also does in season 3 episode 15 when he’s angry at Cooper (26:40).

Finally, exhibiting strong, special interests. This one is probably the easiest to prove. Blaine’s special interests include show choir (he knows everything about it, he even reads the show choir blogs - s5e11: 6:50), boxing (he started a fight club at Dalton - s3e8: 14:00), Broadway (when he coaches the Warblers, Karofsky mentions that it’s pulling teeth to get Blaine to use any music that’s not Broadway - s6e3: 00:25), piano, and even music in general. To give some specific examples, Blaine is also known for having some shorter-term interests that he gets just as invested in, the best examples of this are puppet making (I know, I know, but it applies, he gets so into it for that week) from season 5 episode 7, dressing up as a superhero (no neurotypical person could do Nightbird, please) from season 4 episode 7 and season 5 episode 10 (16:45), and star wars fanfiction (he and Sam have a whole conversation about how ewoks are obviously polygamists) from season 5 episode 15 (5:20 and 26:35).

Blaine also has some other general traits. If you’ve ever watched him sing, he is constantly bouncing on his toes. He’s prone to incredibly intense eye contact, and is very sensitive to criticism, rejection, and public embarrassment (Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria - I have too many examples of this to name). Little things that could be interpreted as sensory overload: season 5 episode 7 - hating loud chaotic environments, and lashing out because of it (00:35 and 00:55) and season 6 episode 5 - where he’s the first to say that they should just kiss to get out of Sue’s elevator because he’s getting very hot (29:00). In season 6 episode 1 during the break up scene, Kurt says that Blaine initiated a 3 hour fight about Kurt getting toothpaste on a towel (21:30), which is not neurotypical behavior, and Blaine responds in a way that indicates that it really bothered him. He’s an actor seemingly a very talented one, something that would make sense if he’d been masking his whole life. Finally, he has a very deep connection with Sam, who is clearly neurodivergent. He and Britt are the only people who understand Sam, and there are multiple times where Blaine knows how to calm Sam down when no one else can.

Now there’s also a case to be made about him having a terrible childhood and having some trauma from that, (I strongly believe that he feels like he has to be doing things for people in order for them to love him because of Cooper) but I also think that this is pretty compelling evidence.

The episodes that I found the most evidence in if you want to look for yourself are season 2 episode 12, season 4 episode 11 (this one’s also good for Sam), season 5 episodes 7, 14, 16, and 20, and season 6 episodes 1 and 5.

[lost-in-fanfic]

The Woman - Thomas Shelby x reader (Part 3)

A/N: Here is part 3 guys, I hope you enjoy it. It’s a little shorter, but I am sure part 4 is going to make up for it! Thank you everyone for your kind comments and messages on my last couple of posts. If you would like to be added to the taglist please comment or message me. Not my GIF and please don’t post my work on any other websites. 

Warnings: not sure there are any.....

A brief summary: Tommy and Y/N both try to work out what to do following their meeting. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Word Count: 1546

Y/N sat in the small room she was renting for the week, her head in her hands, reliving each moment she had spent alone with Tommy Shelby. Her whole adult life she had felt so sure of each decision she had made, even the ones that turned out to be a mistake had justifiable reasons behind them. Still, sat here now she couldn’t find a single logical reason as to why she had told him her name or why she wanted nothing more than to be alone with him again.

“No.” she said to herself out loud, standing up and grabbing her suitcase. There was nothing else for it, she would leave immediately and get the next train back to London, she simply would not allow everything she had worked so hard to build to be undone by a man. Y/N packed her things quickly, forcing all unwanted thoughts of Tommy Shelby out of her head just as efficiently. When everything was collected, she pulled out a couple of sheets of paper, sitting down to write one letter to the Ricci brothers who had hired her and a second to Tommy. She put on her coat, slipping both letters in the pocket, and examined herself in the mirror. Deciding it was best to stay dressed in black to blend in she removed the wig and stuffed it in her bag, it wouldn’t do for Mrs Bathurst to question her sudden change of hair colour when she said goodbye. Today had already been a day of mistakes and rash decisions, looking herself sternly in the eye she silently swore there would be no more. She would leave Birmingham as quickly and quietly as she could.

With a hurried explanation to Mrs Bathurst about an ailing relative back home Y/N left the boarding house and made her way unseen through the busy morning streets. She had a plan in her head and was determined that nothing should distract her from it, she had two letters to deliver and a train to catch before lunch time. First, she went to a small cafe that had been agreed with the Ricci brothers as the drop off point for any correspondence. Y/n waited for the owner to walk into the storeroom before silently entering, placing an envelope on the counter and slipping out of the café. The envelope contained the money she had already accepted and the letter explaining that she had decided not to carry out the hit on Thomas Shelby. The reason she gave was that Tommy was already aware that they had put a hit out on him and therefore it was too dangerous to try and get close enough to kill him at this time. This wasn’t entirely true, after all Tommy had been totally oblivious to the kill ordered on him until she had told him, but she had a reputation to protect. Clients would be unlikely to hire her if they knew she had a record of prewarning her targets. It also warned that Thomas likely knew it was them that had ordered the hit. Y/N knew Tommy was intelligent enough to work out who had hired her without being told directly.

Next, she crossed over the canal bridge and back into the heart of the Peaky Blinder territory. This was a risk, but a necessary one if she were to ensure that the second letter would reach Tommy. As she entered Charlie Strong’s yard, she couldn’t help but nervously begin to chew on her bottom lip, it was highly possible that word would have reached him about her meeting with Tommy that morning, and even more likely still that Tommy would have warned every Peaky in Birmingham to be on the look out for her. Then she spotted Curly, she had seen him last night in The Garrison and thought she stood better odds of a quick interaction with him then with Charlie. “Hello, Curly isn’t it?” Y/N called out as she walked towards him with a warm smile which he gladly returned. “Yes, that’s me.” He said proudly “Who are you?” Curly walked over to meet her. “I’m a friend of Tommy’s. He said to meet him here this morning, is he here?” Y/N was good at acting, and naïve innocence was a routine she had perfected. “Tommy isn’t here, sorry.” Curly replied, still smiling. Y/N let out a little sigh of relief, she would have had to have run very quickly if Tommy were here, which wouldn’t have been easy in these heels. “Would you like to wait here?” Curly motioned towards the main building. “No, it’s ok. Tommy said if he wasn’t here to give you this letter to take to him. He told me he trusts you with this, as it is particularly important he gets it.” Y/N held out the letter for Curly to take, which he gladly did his chest swelling with pride at her words. “Curly!” Charlie’s voice called out “Who are you out there with?” Curly turned towards his voice, “A lady Charlie.” He called back, but when he turned back to Y/N she was gone.

Tommy was sat in his office at Watery Lane, Polly stoically sitting opposite him. Arthur and John had already been to tell him that they hadn’t found any sign of her, so he had sent them back out to spread the word for everyone to be on the look out for a woman matching Y/N’s description. How had she just vanished? He gripped her note from last night in his hand, it was the only physical proof he had that he hadn’t imagined her entirely. Polly hadn’t said a word since Tommy had recounted the meeting to her, she simply sat there silently worrying. Thomas still wasn’t back to himself after Grace and Polly knew just by the look in his eye, this new woman had affected him far quicker than the last. “It must be the Ricci brothers.” Polly said finally, stubbing out her cigarette, Tommy simply nodded and sat back in his chair. “Well, what are we going to do about it?” Polly stood up as she spoke, moving to look out the window as if expecting an attack at any second. “When Arthur and John get back, we will go and pay the Ricci brothers a visit.” Tommy’s voice was deep and clear as he spoke, the intention of his visit clear, his eyes never leaving the note he still clutched tightly.

Both of them looked up at the office door and at Curly who stood knocking on the other side. Tommy stood waving him in, “What brings you here then Curly?” he asked as he took out a cigarette to light. “Hello Tommy, hello Polly” Curly said as he shuffled in smiling. “Hello Curly” Polly answered smiling back, despite her hard exterior she couldn’t help but hold a soft spot for him. “I’ve got a letter for you Tommy; your friend gave it to me when she came to the yard.” Curly held out the letter, but the speed at which Tommy moved around the desk to take it took him by surprise. Tommy ripped the letter open in anticipation; he knew it was from Y/N instantly.

Mr Shelby,

I have made the decision not to kill you and have returned the money to my client, telling them that you were already aware that someone had been hired to kill you and therefore it was too risky for me to make a move.

I am sure you have worked out who hired me and are planning on paying them a visit, but I ask you not to reveal that we met, the fact I am a woman or my name. It would be bad for business.

W

The letter was shorter and more formal than he had wanted, rereading it several times hoping for some secret message to appear. How could this be all it said? What Tommy didn’t know was that this letter had been rewritten over and over until Y/N had managed to remove as much emotion as possible, he was business after all. “When did she give you this Curly?” Tommy folded the letter and put it in his pocket, ignoring Polly’s hand reaching out to see it herself. “Just now Tommy, I came straight here from the yard.” Curly answered while twisting his hat in his hands. “She disappeared though” he said quickly as Tommy moved past him towards the door. “People don’t disappear Curly.” Polly cut in. “This one does.” Tommy answered putting his coat back onto the chair, he knew it was pointless to go and look for her right now. At that moment Arthur and John walked in, “We’ve put the word out Tom, got people looking everywhere, but there isn’t much to go on.” Arthur said taking off his cap and running his hand through his hair. “What now?” asked John who was leaning against the door, chewing a toothpick. “Now brother, we go and settle this with the Ricci’s once and for all” Tommy answered, he was full of frustration and anger, and he knew just what he wanted to do with it. Arthur and John smiled, letting him lead the way out of the betting shop.

@comebackjessica​ @nemesis729​ @spacenijntje​

[shorkbrian]

You’ll learn to love me back

Prelude - Yooo mayhaps I’ll do a thirst post soon for daddyzawa. This man is an absolute control freak but he’s also logical and so so soft. Reader may seem stupid and like they’re accepting the situation but like?? If someone kidnapped me I’d be like so scared. Bros I am so trusting a villian could be like ‘Yo there’s a dog down that dark alley, you just have to pass those two burly dudes with the chloroform.” And i’d be trotting on down looking for the puppy.

https://youtu.be/eCCtiK7KlSo This is the vibe 

Prompt - “I’m taking care of you now. That’s why you’re here”

Warnings - SFW until the very end. Mild groping and an intense build up to off scene NSFW.

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He knows it’s wrong. You know he knows that everything he is doing and has done to you is wrong. Problem is, he doesn’t care.

It had been hard to adjust at first. You thought the underground hero could be trusted, despite his ragged appearance and few words. Even though he mainly stayed in the shadows, not preferring the spotlight and the praise his counterparts received, everyone knew his trademark black hero outfit and yellow goggles. Plus, you had seen him a couple times around at work. So when the man dropped out of nowhere, rushing you to “come with him”, you immediately complied. Who were you to disobey a hero?

Confusion grew as it seemed like he was leading you to a slightly run-down apartment complex, the outside paint fading, the elevator out-of-order. But he was a hero, there was no reason for you not to trust him. There would be no reason for him to hurt or trick you, you were an upstanding citizen and did your job diligently. You worked at UA as a nighttime janitor, trying to supplement your meagre income that you earned working during the day at a nearby grocery store. Prices were insane these days and you always felt like you were barely scraping by.

Looking back, if you could give any advice to your past self it’d be to run away screaming. It would be futile, of course; the erasure hero was quick and efficient at immobilizing fleeing villains, so capturing a simple civilian would be a piece of cake for the man. He refused to answer your questions as the two of you climbed the stairs of the apartment complex, urging that there was “no time” and the two of you needed to hurry. Who were you to argue? 

It only started to register that something was wrong after he steered you through one of the doors on the seventh floor, immediately turning and fiddling with something on the door the second you were through. “Mr. Eraserhead?” You had tried, his back still turned as you timidly continued. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?” The man had faced you then, an off-putting smile dancing along his features. Your stomach filled with butterflies; something was wrong.

You tried to stay calm, I mean, that’s what they tell you to do in scary, bad situations right? But as he began talking, your heart felt like something was squeezing it, your limbs numb with cold. You were going to stay there now, he explained, and you weren’t going to leave. It was for your protection and safety, and the pro-hero would accept no arguments on the matter. There was water in the kitchen and the bathroom was in the back, next to the bedroom.

You had smiled uneasily, thinking it was some sort of joke. Heros did that sometimes, right? For TV commercials or elaborate pranks on celebrities. There were probably cameras hidden somewhere, and a man ready to jump out with a wide smile claiming you had won something or passed a test or something. There was no way that Mr. Eraserhead was serious about this. But as the seconds ticked on, your anxiety grew.  The man in front you shouldered past with a “Make yourself comfortable”, and promptly disappeared into one of the rooms down the hall. You were left in silence, confused, scared……. Should you still wait for the cameramen to jump out?

There were no cameramen.

It hadn’t seemed bad at first, technically, temporarily staying with Eraserhead. He preferred you to call him Shouta, but he also preferred you to not try and escape the clean, minimal apartment. There was something on the door that thwarted your attempts, and the windows were useless because you were seven feet off the ground. There was no fire escape, and there was no escape for you.

He treated you well enough, considering you were a prisoner in his home. You had learned that it was his apartment the first night when he had offered you the chance to sleep in his bed, which you shakily refused. The apartment matched the man; simple, practical, and quiet. The first three or so days you had been in shock, sitting numbly on the black leather couch, staring blankly at the equally-blank wall as you waited for Erase-Shouta to come and tell you it was all a cruel joke. 

He hardly said a word to you. 

Shouta was a relatively silent man, but when he did deign to speak it was practical, to-the-point, and his voice was soft and low, as if he was talking to a scared animal ready to bolt. In some way, you guess that’s what he saw you as, trembling nervously all the time, your eyes filled with fear as you continuously tried to take up as little space as possible. For the most part he left you alone, aside from asking what foods you preferred or if you wanted water at mealtimes. There was a TV in the living room, but it stayed off.  The only form of entertainment you could find was the small bookcase near one of the windows, filled with classics.

If Shouta wasn’t sleeping, he was hovering nearby, sipping coffee while he tapped away on his phone or worked on his laptop.  Whenever you glanced at him you were unsettled to find his eyes already trained on you. You would glance away as quickly as possible and return your focus to the book in your hand, heart thudding away beneath your ribcage.

A problem had arisen the fourth night, when you were getting ready to fall asleep on the couch, since you refused to go anywhere near Shouta and his bed. You didn’t know what the mans intentions with you were, but you didn’t want to take any chances or make things easier for him. He had come to the door of his bedroom, leaning against it lazily as he crossed his arms, that studious gaze never seeming to leave you. He had suggested you take a shower and change, and that he had clothes and towels and anything else you might need. 

You shook your head.

He had tried again, his voice just as soft as he reasoned with you. The man was logical for sure, but you had a queasy feeling in your stomach as he tried to convince you to change out of the same clothes you had been in since he lured you to his apartment. Yes, personal hygiene was important, but how could you be sure Shouta would leave you alone while you were vulnerable? The only bathroom in the place didn’t have a lock.

Shouta had sighed when you remained silent, only shaking you head. He had pushed himself away from the door, treading silently until he could crouch down and meet your gaze glued to the floor in front of you.  Immediately you shifted your eyes to your hands clasped nervously together in your lap. You felt clammy and sweaty and cold and hot and it was all too much. Mostly you just felt like crying. This was such a bizarre situation and you didn’t know what was going on. The man had tilted his head to try and catch your eye again, before giving up and sighing. “You can either shower by yourself, and then change into new clothes, or I’ll have to force you. The latter will not be as pleasant as the former.”

You had quickly chosen the former.

The clothes he provided were obviously his. They smelled like him, and he smelled like the shampoo nestled on one of the alcoves in the shower. He probably used the same brand for laundry detergent. You were grateful that he had provided you a toothbrush, slotted next to his own. Admittedly, you did feel better after cleaning up, but that feeling was quickly dashed after Shouta took your old clothes after you had exited the bathroom. He didn’t say anything as he dumped them in the trash. You distantly hoped it was because they smelled bad.

After a week of sleeping on his couch, Shouta had appeared in his hero outfit. He had to go back to work as a hero, and there were going to be rules from now on. They were simple and practical, like eating at mealtimes, taking care of your hygiene, and obviously, no trying to escape. Otherwise there would be consequences. You didn’t want to find out what those were.

The two of you fell into an easy routine. He worked mainly in the early morning, from 2-8, sometimes 9. While he was home with you, you would read or work on the crossword book he had let you mark in. He would go to bed around eight in the evening, and when he he left at 1:30 you would crawl into his empty bed. It had felt so nice the first night you had dared to do so. You usually tried to wake up and vacate his bedroom before the man returned, but on the days you didn’t Shouta said nothing. He didn’t seem to mind you using his space. 

By the third week of living with him, you were bored to the point of tears. There was nothing for you to do; there was seemingly no remote for the TV,  you didn’t feel like re-reading books you already knew, and you had completed the crossword book. Shouta seemed to pick up on your distress and had shown up one day with a tiny kitten and a giant bag filled with more reading material and activity books. You tried to ignore him as you cuddled the kitten in your arms, but you still heard his fond admission that you deserved a gift for being so good. 

You tried your best to hide your shiver.

When you confronted him (timidly and with the kitten clutched to your chest like a shield) about why he was keeping you locked up in his apartment, Shouta had turned his eyes from his phone, blinking slowly as you fidgeted uneasily under his gaze. 

“If I had been anyone else, you would’ve been dead the moment I got you away from the main streets. You’re too trusting. Furthermore,” Here he set down his phone, standing up from the small table and looming over you in a show of dominance. “You’re a complete pushover and your personality is so meek and submissive that I’m frankly surprised no one has taken advantage of you yet.” 

Shouta took a step forward, and you took a step back.  

“I’m keeping you safe.”

Another step forward, and you stepped back again.

“I’m protecting you.”

Another step. Your back hit a wall.

“Do you remember when you first started working at UA? You had let that senior janitor boss you around, making you do stupid things that had nothing to do with your job. Did you really think he needed you to bend over to pick up the supplies he dropped, or that holding your waist as you cleaned the top windows was necessary?”

Shouta slammed his hand into the wall next to your head, and you felt the vibrations in the back of your skull. Your breathed hitched, and your knees felt like buckling as you tightened your grip around the kitten. You wouldn’t be surprised if you passed out. Yes, the man who you worked with at UA had made you feel immensely uncomfortable, but you needed the job. As much as it disgusted you, the paycheck was worth the discomfort. 

“You never wondered why he disappeared?  Why you suddenly got promoted?”

Shouta was still talking in that soft, low voice, but that did nothing to quell your fear. 

“I took care of you then, and I’m taking care of you now. That’s why you’re here.”

His eyes held your gaze for another second, before the flickered away, down towards your lips. The waver in his attention was so brief that it was possible you imagined it, before the kitten in your arms mewed weakly.  Shouta tore himself away from you, and began to move towards his bedroom. Your mouth felt dry and your eyes were watering. Was Shouta implying that he had killed the man? Surely not, he had only fired him, or threatened him, or…. something. You didn’t want to think about it.  You had never exactly seen the pro-heros that worked at UA, but that’s because you had worked the night shift. But that didn’t mean it was impossible for Shouta to have been there, and it would explain the signs that someone was working late, like the coffee machine brewing in the break room.

Hot tears spilled over your cheeks.

Had he been watching you?  

Why you?

You voiced your last thought out loud. Your voice was barely above a whisper but Shouta stopped dead in his tracks, and you knew he had heard your question.

Silence.

Then he stormed into his room and shut the door.

You tried your best to avoid him after that conversation, feeling even worse whenever you caught him looking at you while you played with the kitten or read a book. It creeped you out to no end to know that the man had been watching you, stalking you. You couldn’t, didn’t want to think about what any of it meant, instead choosing to busy yourself with getting lost in fictional worlds.

You tried not to jump as the front door slammed, Shouta returning from a double shift. He had grime all over his face and his hair was a tangled mess, and you could sense something was off by the way he stomped into the bathroom to shower. When he re-emerged, the man was shirtless as usual after a shower. You were uncomfortable with the amount of naked skin, but at least he had pants on this time, usually opting to wrap a towel around his waist as he sauntered back to his room to get dressed. 

Barely sparing you a glance, Shouta grabbed your arm in his tight grip, ignoring your choked gasp as you dropped your book and tumbled off the couch as he pulled you after him.

“Shouta? What-what….. Hold on-“

His grip was unrelenting as he tugged you into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you two before the kitten could follow. The plaintive mews held the same confusion you felt in your mind, but quickly turned to cold, drenching fear as the muscular man shoved you onto the bed. You twisted onto your side, scrambling to your knees as Shouta advanced menacingly, his eyes flickering with an emotion that you had seen simmering beneath the surface ever since the day he locked you in his home.

“Shouta, wait please I don’t wanna….. you’re scaring me!”  You sprang to your feet and dashed towards the door, only to feel his strong arms wrap around your waist and lock you against his body. 

“I know you’re shy, but I’ll be as gentle as possible.” He grunted, trying to contain your panicked thrashing as he set you on the bed again. He forced you onto your back, kneeling over your waist and sitting on your hips to immobilize you. He reached forward and grabbed your wrists, despite your failing attempts to push him off of you. Who were you kidding; the man was fully grown and his career was capturing and detaining bad guys. Out of nowhere he produced a length of his capture weapon, and swiftly started looping it around your hands, tying you to the headboard. Where had he gotten his capture weapon from?  Your mind was racing so fast you lost the thought as soon as it entered, immediately moving on to the next desperate thought as you tried to rationalize what was happening.

“Shouta please, please! What are you doing-I don’t wan-mmfpgh!”

Wrists now effectively trapped, the man pressed a hand gently to your mouth, smoothing the other over your hair as he softly stroked your head. 

“Shhhhh…… it’s okay, I would never hurt you.” You wanted to scream, bite his hand and spit in his face. You felt so small and afraid, knots in your stomach and tears building up behind your eyes. 

“You asked “why you?””  The hand that wasn’t on your mouth moved to gently caress your chest before moving to the zipper on his pants. The tears in you eyes spilled over. You felt like vomiting.

“I’ve been wanting you since I first saw you…. So gentle, and weak, and submissive.”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Something was on your chest, trapping you, holding you down and suffocating you slowly as Shouta talked while he unfastened his pants. Instead of taking them off, his hand moved to your (his) shirt, rubbing the fabric before pulling it up over your chest to bunch around your armpits. You screamed behind his hand.

“I tried to let you settle.” He was breathing heavily now, his calloused hand rubbing at your chest as you sobbed behind his other hand. “But you’re such a timid little thing, I realized it was pointless to let you make the decisions. We’ve lived your way-“ You tried to kick him, but your legs were in such a position that all your did was wriggle underneath him. “-now it’s time to do it my way.” At your anguished muffled screech, his eyes flicked from where he was focused on squeezing your chest up to your face. 

“Shhh, shhhhh. This’ll feel good…….  I’m doing this because I love you.” He paused, watching you shake your head, face puffy and red from all the tears.

“You’ll learn to love me back.”

[ikehorganics]

HOW TO REDUCE BINGE

EATING OVEREATING,

AND BORED EATING:

disclaimer: i am aware that binge eating is an eating disorder, but not a lot of people have access to professionals to help them, and this guide could help a number of people struggling with binge eating, it could be successful to some binge eaters but not all. i hope this assists you, and this all comes from a place of good faith not malicious intent. i am also aware that binge eating does NOT equate to bored eating or overeating.

skip the preface if you want to skip straight to the tips!

PREFACE:

I have been in quarantine for nearly nine months, and I have struggled with multiple aspects of my everyday life that have had to be changed and adapted to the new rules of society. Since the beginning, I have always preached about staying in doors, social distancing, not going out to into open places without a mask etc because this is a direct reflection of the respect you have for yourself and the people around you. In this strong belief, I found myself struggling to juggle being a first year university student, my fitness, mental health, food and constantly being bored within my house.

Food was the hardest aspect, and with being surrounded by food 24/7, weight gain was inevitable. At first, I had not realised how I ate on a regular basis, I woke up at 6am, and would be at uni between 8am and 5pm from monday to thursday, where i would usually only eat one meal and a snack between that, whether it be left overs from dinner for lunch and an apple or piece of fruit for when i feel a bit peckish, and 2litres of water. My day consisted of four lectures ranging from 1 hour to two hours and walking around a lot because I hated sitting for a long time, and occasionally doing summaries or watching netflix between lectures. And when i got home, I had dinner and would go to bed. That was my routine and it was never truly surrounded by food constantly available at my every beck and call.

During quarantine, I was filled with procrastination and demotivation to attend lectures online or read my books. And all that extra time was filled with having an efficient workout routine and eating, but then that eating turned to eating quite frequently whether i was watching television, and mainly eating for the sakes of eating and in gross portion sizes because it was now available. Let's talk about how I broke out of that cycle of over eating and bored eating:

1. PLAN YOUR DAY PRODUCTIVELY.

I needed some direction in my life, I forced myself to plan every hour of my day so I can do something productive for myself. I planned the times from when I would wake up at 8am, to the time it took to fix my bed, brush my teeth, workout, stretch, eat my meals, nap, spend time outside, spend time on social media and more. Not only did my eating habits straighten out, but I got more done with my day.

2. SET EATING TIMES.

Setting eating times was the best thing I had ever done. Breakfast was always at 12 midday, lunch at 2 pm and dinner at 6pm, but these were my eating times, especially since i was intermittent fasting. These times helped me plan my day accordingly, between eating times I would usually fill my day with studying, and doing summaries, catching up with work I had missed. This helps especially if you have a restrictive diet or fast a lot! Restricting calories and fasting for extended periods of time only adds to the urge of falling into a binge cycle because your body feels the needs to refeed!

3. LISTEN TO YOUR CRAVINGS.

Listening to your body is so important. If you want to eat pizza for lunch, don't eat a salad, eat the pizza because it will be mor satiating than that salad or pasta that you might not want as much. Because that pizza might just pop into your mind late at night and you will have a little late night feast, this applies especially if you are counting calories. Having cravings are normal, and unless you are on a no bs diet that is extreme, you shouldn't deny yourself of something that you really want for something that won't leave your soul satiated.

4. DRINK WATER DURING MEALS.

I won't say much on this, but having water before, during and after your meal is so important. It aids in better digestion and adds to the feeling of being satiated when you are done eating, plus it's an easy way to get your water in. Replace that coca cola or soft drink with water, especially if you know you don't get enough glasses of water into your day.

5. LEMON WATER.

A cup of warm water and a wedge of lemon juice squeezed into it is super refreshing, sip on it throughout the morning before breakfast, to aid in digestion. Lemon water is a thing that is constantly brought up, and shut down for being "ineffective" but it works for me, and I believe that it is a phenomena of the mind. If you believe lemon water can help, it will definitely help you because you have manifested its impact on your health. Lemon water and warm water is one of those things that 'curb' hunger, and if you are one of those people who sometime wake up hungry but can't bring yourself to eat so early because it could make you nauseous, then water lemon water in a glass is the drink for you.

6. EAT WHOLESOME AND NOURISHING FOODS.

Calories are a touchy subject, and they add up very quickly very surprisingly. A bowl of oatmeal will have a lot of volume, leave you satiated and keep you full longer than toast and nutella. No one is saying do not eat the nutella, but adapt it into a meal that will leave you full and satisfied for example, if you want something sweet, heave oatmeal with a tablespoon of peanut butter or nutella inside of your oatmeal! Eat foods that will nourish you and give you enough energy to go about your day.

7. PORTION CONTROL AND PHYSICAL FULLNESS.

Portion sizes are all up to you as an individual and how satiated a portion size leaves you. Eat portion sizes that leave you satiated, but remember that being satiated does not equal to being so physically full that you feel uncomfortable as a result of eating too much. Being satiated is very difficult because sometimes you eat food that tastes amazing, and even though you are physically full, you feel like you could eat more and that becomes problematic because you've eaten past your bodies physical limit. Eating what you are craving ( number 3 ) comes into play with this aspect, as you have to be able to know when enough is enough. If you feel as if your portion sizes are huge and want to reduce them, then reduce it gradually whether it means you want to go from eating 4 slices of pizza to 2 slices of pizza, then begin with eating 3 and a half slices or eating one less scoop of pasta than you usually eat. If you have no idea how to stop eating past your physical limit, eat until you feel like you're just about to be physically full, do this for a week, and see how you will become satiated with the portions you are eating, gradually lessen the portion sizes overtime until you are happy with the amounts you are eating! This won't happen immediately, it is a gradual process.

8. DON'T EAT TOO FAST. CHEW YOUR FOOD.

A lot of the time, we do not realise how fast we eat and how we don't thoroughly chew our food. The food isn't running away, take your time to enjoy your meal and chew it instead of swallowing after a few times of grinding your teeth. Take in the flavour of your food and really enjoy it in the moment.

9. IT IS OKAY TO FALL INTO OLD HABITS, BUT BREAK IT AS SOON AS YOU CAN.

Nothing in life happens in a linear manner, everything is gradual and has its ups, its downs, its regressions and just general moments we are not proud of. If you find yourself in a binge cycle or overeating cycle for a day or a week, it does not meal all progress is lost. It means you are human, you are not engineered to be perfect constantly. Have a mantra for yourself that you repeat to comfort yourself: “it is okay, tomorrow will be better.” or “it was just one day, i can go back to normally eating tomorrow.” or “I shouldn’t be too hard on myself, it happens to everyone.”

10. INCORPORATE HEALTHY FOOD GROUPS INTO YOUR MEALS.

Make your meals satisfying and as colourful as possible! Don’t just eat pasta or pizza, eat it with something healthy like a side salad or a side of fruits or a side of healthy carbs like roasted potatoes! Never just eat one thing especially if it doesn’t have any greens or vegetables!! It doesn’t have to even be a salad or anything fancy! It can be cut up tomatoes, or cucumbers or apples!

11. HEALTHIER ALTERNATIVES MEAN YOU CAN EAT MORE FOR LESS.

Your oven, grill or airfryer is your bestfriend. Fried food is delicious, but you feel insecure at times after eating something that was cooked in heaping amounts of oil. Remember an airfryer is just a small oven, and can do wonders too. If you want a burger and you have time, home made burgers are always amazing and tastier than their fast food counterparts! Make your burger at home so you can control what goes into it, or make your fries in the oven so you can have a much more healthy alternative for less calories, and have more of it! I’m not saying make your burger buns something like lettuce buns, but making your burger at home can significantly reduce the calories in comparison to ONE mcdonalds burger, and you can have two for less calories than once burger if you make it at home.

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Hopefully these tips can assist you day to day, and you take them into consideration and even test it out! These tips worked for me, and I know they won’t work for everyone but some of them might be helpful to you!

[lils-writes-stuff]

The Good Earth

Spencer Reid x reader

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

summary: while in oregon, reader suspects somethings up with spencer

warning: normal criminal minds things, minor angst

A/N: based on season 8 episode 5; there’s some JJ x reader moments in here that I love

 Y/N walked into the kitchen of her and Spencer’s apartment. Her boots clicked against the hardwood floor as she moved swiftly to make sure she had everything in her go-bag. Spencer had already left to head into work early that morning to work on some paperwork he hadn’t finished that was due. 

 This was a frequent thing he had been doing lately, and at first, Y/N wasn’t concerned, but he had been doing it for about two weeks now. As a girl would do, her first thoughts as to what he could be doing were anything but good, but then she thought about who Spencer was.  

 She was muttering under her breath items she had, “Keys, wallet, go-bag, laptop…” 

 Her routine check she had going was interrupted when her phone pinged. 

 An email from Strauss. 

 With an eye roll, she picked up her phone to open it. Strauss had been sending her emails with different options for moves or details about cases they had. It was annoying, really, she was baiting her. 

 Y/N quickly closed the email and put her phone in her pocket. She grabbed her go-bag and headed into the office.

------------ 

 “What do you mean, he’s not going? Every kid loves trick-or-treating,” Penelope exclaimed to JJ about Henry. 

 “Henry’s scared,” JJ replied. “One of his little buddies told him Halloween was the only time when all the real monsters come out because they can blend in.”  

 “Never thought about that,” Rossi shrugged. 

 “Good monster strategy,” Y/N sang as she walked over to them, hearing the tail of the conversation. 

 Penelope chuckled, “You did tell him it wasn’t true, right?” 

 “Of course I did, but he’s convinced,” JJ shook her head as she replied.

 “Childhood fears are resistant to adult logic, sometimes you just have to wait it out,” Rossi told JJ in the hope to reassure her. 

 “For how long?” She asked, leaning on her knees. 

 “Well, if he’s twenty-three and this still worries you, you may have a problem,” Rossi answered. 

 JJ, Y/n, and Penelope let out a light laugh.

 “Well, see, the thing is, I think I am partly to blame,” JJ confessed as she stood up from her chair. 

 “How so?” Y/N asked as the four of them began to walk to the round table room. 

 “Well, the other night Will and I were up late, we were having some wine, talking about some of the cases we’ve worked on-” JJ let out a sigh as she continued her confession- “And at one point, I said I felt like there was no end to all the monsters walking around, and…” 

 “Henry sneaked into the room to listen to the grownups,” Rossi said, finishing the predictable end to her story. 

 “Yeah, we need a cone of silence for our house,” JJ said which made Penelope and Y/N chuckle. 

 They walked into the round table room and took their seat. Y/N took hers in her usual spot next to Spencer. 

 “Good morning,” He said, for the first time being able to talk to her this morning. 

 “Morning,” she smiled as she sat in her seat. 

 “Those of you who like a good mystery, please unleash your inner Agatha Christie, ‘cause this one’s a real humdinger,” Penelope opened before she grabbed her remote and brought up the case. 

 “Gary Ellard, Barry Deaver, Paul Hicks, Terry Rodgers. Over the course of the last month and a half, these four men have gotten in their cars in La Grande, Oregon, and drove into the never-to-be-seen-agains-Ville. Poof, gone. The latest victim Terry Rodgers disappeared twenty-four hours ago.”

 “Forensic evidence points us anywhere?” Y/N asked. 

 “Uh, point would imply there is evidence, and there is no evidence, at least for the first three victims,” Penelope answered. 

 “No forensics, no witnesses, no ransom demands, maybe these guys just voluntarily decided to hit the road,” Derek pondered. 

 “Four sudden disappearances in a community this small-- this isn’t about seeking greener pastures,” Rossi argued.

 “And based on last known sightings, we’re dealing with a sizable geographic area,” Hotch added to Rossi’s argument. 

 “He’s efficient and well organized, not easy to make four people vanish and stay vanished,” Y/N commented as she leaned onto her arms on the table.

 “It has been done before, though,” Spencer spoke. “Political kidnappings frequently require holding multiple adults simultaneously.” 

 “Or they’re already dead,” Rossi countered. “Nothing says ‘can’t be found’ like a shallow grave in the middle of nowhere.” 

 “Assuming they are alive, how is the unsub controlling them?” Blake asked. 

 “And for what purpose?” JJ posed her own question to Blakes. 

 “The time between abductions is shortening with each victim, wheels up in 30.” 

------------  

 “Garcia, anything on the last victim, Terry Rodgers?” Hotch asked as she answered the video call. 

 “Only that he’s unemployed and lives in a cabin in the woods, but primitive, like no flush toilet primitive,” Penelope answered. 

 “That doesn’t fit the victimology of the other three. Ellard coached track and field at a local college, Deaver's small business owner, and Hicks is an attorney.” Derek read off the file in his hand. 

 “All married with young families,” JJ added. 

 “Another difference-- the first three victims were all born and raised in La Grande,” Rossi added another difference. 

 “Yeah, Terry Rodgers only moved to town a couple of months ago,” Y/N added as she looked at her file. 

 “Do we know where from, Garcia?” Spencer asked. 

 “Rhode Island, though there’s a five-month gap between Terry being in Rhode Island and then arriving in Oregon,” Penelope answered as she looked at the timeline. “Where he was and what he was doing is a big fat blank.”

 “It says here that vomit was found in the vicinity of his abduction,” Derek noted as he looked at the crime scene report. 

 “Mm, thank you for reminding me of that disgusting detail, Dreamy D. Yes, that vomit has been collected and is being analyzed as we speak, and I am very grateful that I have this job and someone else has that one,” Penelope answered with disgust for the topic. 

 “Rodgers is the obvious anomaly of the four, but there’s no apparent overlap between any of the victims,” Spencer said after he finished an in the head analysis. 

 “It’s almost like the unsub was selecting his targets at random,” Blake said as she agreed with Spencer. 

 “Blake, you and Morgan go talk to the families of the victims. See if there’s something that links them that’s not on paper,” Hotch ordered and the two agents nodded. 

 “Dave, Reid, and I will go to the abduction site. Y/N, you and JJ go to Terry Rodgers’ cabin,” Hotch gave his final orders as the plane was just about to land. 

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

  The cabin was dark and smelt damp. Truely, it was very off the grid style. 

 “Besides the outhouse, this cabin isn’t really so primitive like Garcia let on,” Y/N said as she began to look through some of Terry Rodgers’ things. 

 “Okay,” JJ sighed from her squatted position in front of Terry’s books. “Economics, Philosophy...political theory, not exactly breezy, take to the beach reading.”

 “Hm, sounds like something Spence would take if he liked the beach,” Y/N laughed as she thought about Spencer at the beach. Looking like a fish out of water. 

 “He doesn’t like the beach? Why’s that?” JJ laughed as she opened a book. 

 “Something about sandy food, pink skin, limited and unengaging topography, you know, Spencer Reid reasons for not going to the beach,” Y/N said as she remembered the reasons Spencer told her. 

 JJ let out a laugh as she continued to look through the books. 

 “Speaking of Spencer, do you know why he’s been getting to work so early lately? He says it’s paperwork, but you know,” Y/N pried, hoping JJ might know since she’s his best friend. 

 Without looking back, she could feel JJ stiffen at her question. Clearing her throat, JJ quickly changed the subject, “You know, there’s a lot of material here about global warming, overcrowding, evils of technology.” 

 “Did you just change the subject?” Y/N asked, turning to look at JJ. 

 “No, I just found something interesting related to the case.”

 Y/N looked at her with a challenging gaze. “You totally just changed the subject. What do you know?” 

 “There’s no phone, no TV, I wonder what this guy does for fun.” JJ turned away from Y/N to look around at all the different items around the room.

 “JJ.” Y/N said trying to go back to the question she was avoiding. 

 JJ turned back to Y/N with a innocent smile on her face. A smile that showed she was hiding something. 

 “It’s nothing, Y/N, you don’t have to be worried about it.” She was hiding something, but Y/N decided not to push it too far...yet. 

 “JJ, come on, he has to tell me soon-” Y/N turned back to a cabinet and began to look through it- “I mean he can’t keep doing this forever, so you might as well just-”

 She cut herself off as she smelt a familiar smell. She reached her hand into the cabinet and pulled out a ziplock bag. Holding about ten grams of Marijuana. 

 “Found what he does for fun,” Y/N said, showing JJ the bag.

-------------- 

 JJ and Y/N walked into the police station about an hour after they left Terry Rodger’s cabin. Y/N tried to pull what JJ was hiding out of her, but ended up having no success and gave up for the time being. 

 “So did you learn anything?” Rossi asked from a small coffee station as he saw JJ and Y/N walk in. 

 “Yeah, Y/N tells me Spence doesn’t like the beach,” JJ responded as they walked over to the table in the middle of the room.

 “I don’t,” Spencer said, confirming Y/N’s tell. 

 “Yeah, so Terry Rodgers definitely wanted to live off the grid, he had a small generator for some small electrical needs. Other than that no phones, TV, or Radio,” Y/N answered Rossi’s question with its actual intent. 

 “And lots of material about the evils of technology, living healthy off the lang, that sort of stuff,” JJ added to their findings. 

 “Sounds like the Unabomber,” Rossi commented. 

 “We did find a small stash of weed he had hidden away,” Y/N mentioned the only really significant finding. 

 “Did you find any evidence that a baby lived there or visited there?” Hotch asked. 

 “Uh, no, why?” JJ asked, turning to Y/N to see if she had found something. She shook her head. 

 “We just got the list of the items he purchased at the supermarket,” Spencer said and handed the list to Y/N when she reached for it. 

 “Four jars of baby food,” JJ read as she looked at the list with Y/N. 

 The two looked at each other confused. They both racked through their findings in the cabin again to see if there was any sign of a baby. 

 “A body matching Rodgers’ description was found ten miles out of town,” the Sheriff said as she entered the room with a sigh. 

 Y/N, Hotch, and Derek rolled up to the scene just as the body was being pulled out of the water. 

 “A fisherman found him washed up on a bank,” the Sheriff sighed as the body was set down by the crane on the ground. 

 “Well, other than the ligature marks on the wrists and ankles, there’s no sign of violence and torture,” Derek said as he examined the body. 

 “There is so much care taken with the killing and disposing of the body,” Y/N commented. 

 “Sedation and drowning,” Derek agreed. 

 “We may have to dramatically change who the unsub is,” Y/N said with a surprise of her own words. 

 “What do you mean?” The Sheriff asked. 

 “We might be looking for a woman,” Hotch answered. 

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

 “We believe the unsub that we’re looking for is a woman, who is highly organized, she’s thorough, and she’s patient,” Hotch said as he began the profile. 

 “Based on the complexity and the sophistication of the abductions, we think she is most likely between the ages of thirty and forty,” Spencer said. 

 “She’s familiar with the rural area surrounding La Grande. Either a native or someone who’s lived there for a while,” Rossi continued on about who the unsub was. 

 “We think she’s keeping her victims in isolation in the countryside, which means she has access to land or a structure. That is remote, hidden, and private,” Derek added. 

 “She’s abducting exceptionally health-conscious men, ideal specimens if you will,” Blake said. 

 “Specimens, for what?” The sheriff asked, shocked by Blake’s terminology. 

 “Possible breeding,” JJ answered. 

 “The ability to father children is something we think she’s looking for in her victims,” Hotch said. 

 “They’re all age-appropriate, and they are all fathers,” Y/N added. 

 “But why kill the last victim?” The sheriff asked. 

 “She may have seen him as being flawed,” Spencer answered. “He was the least physically fit of the four, and neglected to pay child support.” 

 “Making him undesirable,” Blake clarified.

 “The victims may be surrogates for a man that she wants but she can not have,” Derek said. 

 “Because she killed the last victim, we have to consider the possibility that the unsub is engaged in some sort of elimination process,” Rossi said. 

 “Preselecting a handful of prime candidates and then whittling them down one by one, until she has her ideal breeding partner,” Y/N added on to the elimination theory.

 “And if this is the case, then the killing’s just begun,” Hotch said.

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

 “I’m still waiting on the full M.E. report on Terry Rodgers,” the Sheriff said as she entered the room the team was working in. “They say they want to retest some of the findings.” 

 “Did they say why?” JJ asked, curious as to why they would do that. 

 “No,” the Sheriff shook her head.

 “I recognize that scowl Aaron,” Rossi stated to Hotch, who indeed did have a familiar scowl on his face. “What are you thinking?” 

 “Something Garcia said earlier about not being able to sit on a park bench in this country without leaving a paper trail,” Hotch admitted. 

 “And…” Y/N said, moving her hand in a ‘keep going’ motion. 

 “So what if Rodgers wasn’t in the country for those five months?” Hotch proposed the thought. 

 “It wouldn’t be the first time someone crossed borders to get away from troubles,” Rossi said as he agreed with Hotch’s thought. 

 “Guys there’s something interesting about this grocery list,” Spencer said as he walked across the room to the five at the table. 

 “What?” The Sheriff asked.

 “Look at the items he bought in bulk; garlic, green tea, vitamin D, ginger. All these items are specifically known to boost the immune system,” Spencer said, then set the list down on the table for those sitting to see. “What if Terry Rodgers was seriously ill?” 

 “What about the baby food?” JJ asked, not knowing how that would fit on the list. 

 “A side effect of radiation treatment is sores inside the mouth. In fact, doctors advise you to eat the way an infant would eat,” Spencer replied, showing how it fit. 

 “Chemotherapy?” Rossi questioned.

 Spencer nodded, silently saying ‘more than likely’.

 “The marijuana in the cabin could have been medicinal,” Y/N said as she thought more into the theory of Rodgers being sick. 

 “I’ll have Garcia check medical facilities outside the country,” Hotch said and pulled out his phone. “Reid, you and JJ got to the medical examiner to look for a pre-existing condition with Rodgers.”

 Y/N watched as the two walked out of the room together, wondering what they were hiding from her. 

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

 “It was Hodgkin's Lymphoma,” the M.E. said as he gave the final report to Spencer. 

 “Did you find any sedatives in his system?” JJ asked.

 “The question is, what sedatives didn’t we find?” The M.E. replied. “Melatonin, Valerian, Marijuana, hops, catnip, kava-kava…”

 “Bone meal and kelp,” Spencer finished as he read the report. 

 “In the victim’s stomach, along with some materials that we’re retesting,” the M.E. said, then stood up as he got excited to show Spencer something. “Take a look at the bottom.”

 “Sawdust residue caked in the nostrils?” Spencer read with questions at the finding. 

 “Not just any sawdust, pure pinewood pellet sawdust,” the M.E. told them.

 “It’s usually imported from China. Was it a 0.5% mixture?” Spencer’s question took the M.E. back. 

 “I don’t know, all I know is it’s not your every day, spread-on-the-floor sawdust.” 

 The two agents thanked the M.E. and began to walk out of the small office they were in. Spencer called Rossi to inform them of their findings before they got back. 

 “You know, Y/N asked me today about why you’ve been leaving early for work,” JJ said as the two walked to their car. “To do paperwork?” 

 Spencer sucked in a nervous breath. “You didn’t tell her anything did you?” 

 “Of course not, only that she doesn’t need to worry,” JJ replied in a reassuring tone. “But ‘paperwork’ was the best excuse you could come up with?” 

 Spencer let out a breathy chuckle, “It was a spur of the moment excuse.” 

 They were quiet for a second as they both buckled their seat belts and JJ started the car. 

 “But she’s onto something now, and she’s going to dig if you don’t do it anytime soon.” 

 Spencer sighed, “I know, I just don’t know when yet.” 

------------  

 “Yeah,” Rossi said as he hung up his phone then walked into the sheriff’s office where Derek, Hotch, and Y/N stood. “That was Reid, they found half a dozen natural sedatives in Rogders' system.” 

 “I don’t get it, the unsub’s drugging victims and trusting that they’ll conk out at the right place at the right time.” Derek’s confusion was reciprocated as Y/N nodded. 

 “Yeah, why not use a pharmaceutical Drug? Or Poison?” Y/N asked. 

 “Which would be quicker and a lot more reliable,” Rossi nodded.

 “Natural holistic elements must be important to her,” Y/N said as she thought more about it. 

 “She may have health issues of her own,” Hotch agreed. 

 As Hotch finished his speculation, he pulled his phone out as Penelope called. 

 “Go ahead, Garcia.” 

 “I just hit the trifecta, but with two things instead of three,” Penelope said excitedly. “What is that, a bifecta?” 

 “Exacta, what you got?” Rossi pushed her to get to the point. 

 “Well, that-- anyway, two missing vehicles, not missing anymore. Paul Hicks’ car was found by some utility workers an hour ago, it rolled off into a ravine. And Gary Ellard’s car was picked up on a speeding violation in Coeur D’Alene, Idaho.”

 “Idaho?” Derek said, confused. 

 “Stolen by some local kids ten days ago in La Grande,” Penelope cleared up the confusion. “Car was just sitting by the side of the road, keys in the ignition. They made a typical sound teenage decision, decided to take it on a cross-state joyride.”

 “Garcia, I need to know the exact spot where the vehicles were originally found,” Hotch said as he moved out of the office into the conference room.

 “On it.” 

-------------  

 “All right, based on what we just got, this is the revised best guess route of the victims the days they were abducted,” Y/N said as she pointed to the map for Blake and JJ. Her and Hotch devised this new route together in an impressive thirty minutes. 

 “Two intersect here-” Blake pointed to an intersection of two of the victims- “the other two here.”

 JJ then pointed to a spot on the map. “And this is where Terry Rodgers bought his groceries.” 

 “Looks like Paul Hicks might have gone there after his doctor’s appointment,” Blake said. 

 “Now what was at the intersection where Deavor and Ellard crossed?” JJ asked. 

 “That’s a shopping center with a dozen or so businesses,” Hotch answered as he pointed it out on the map. 

 “We’re getting a list right now,” Y/N added. 

 “One of the deputies sighted an abandoned car on the outskirts of town. There was a second set of tire tracks behind it that matched those found at the Terry Rodgers’ abduction site,” the Sheriff said, rushed as she peered into the room. 

---------

 Y/N stood next to Hotch as he inspected the inside of the car. Looking over all the beautifully wrapped gifts that were tucked into the back seat. 

 “Vehicle’s registered to Cheryl Winslow, 4801 Davenport Avenue,” the deputy on site told the two agents. 

 “These are all from a baby shower,” Hotch said as he finished looking at the gifts in the back seat. 

 “We contacted her husband, she’s due in three weeks,” the deputy confirmed. 

 “If this is our unsub, taking a pregnant woman is a huge change in her victimology,” Y/N said as Hotch turned to her. 

 “We profiled she was abducting the men as breeders,” Hotch reminded her. 

 “But why take someone else’s baby if you’re planning on having your own?” Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion.

 “Maybe she can’t have one or she lost one.” 

 “So this-” she moved her hands in a circular motion- “this isn’t about fertility, but the experience these men would bring as fathers.”

 Y/N paused as she thought more and Hotch gave her a look, telling her they were now thinking the same thing. 

 “Is she trying to build a family?”  

--------- 

 “That was Hotch,” Rossi said as he hung up his phone. It was the next day now, Cheryl Winslow had been left in the parking lot of the hospital in the early morning, along with her delivered baby. “The doctor told him the placenta was scrapped completely out of the victim’s uterus.”

 Y/N and JJ grimaced at the thought. 

 “Every bit of it.”

 “You know the placenta does carry special significance in many cultures. In ancient Egypt, it had its own hieroglyph. And the Ibo tribe in Nigeria considered it to be the child’s dead twin,” Spencer said. His facts were insightful but not helpful here. 

 “Well, that would be helpful, if our unsub was an ancient Egyptian or Ibo tribe woman, but...” JJ sassed.

 Even though JJ’s comment was full of sarcasm and sass, it gave Spencer a thought. He began to mumble to himself as he went through his unlimited knowledge in his brain. 

 “I can hear the high-pitched whine from your IQ all the way over here, what is it?” Rossi asked. The humor-filled question made Y/N and JJ chuckle.

 “It could be placentophagy,” Spencer said as if everyone knew what that was. 

 “What?” JJ asked. 

 “Consuming it. In the wild, it’s common for animals to eat their own afterbirth. It’s super-rich in nutrients,” Spencer explained. 

 “Oh god, I’m going to be sick,” Y/N said as she leaned her lead on her hands at the thought. 

 “Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait-” Rossi held his hand up to Spencer to stop him before he continued- “so the unsub might have harvested this last victim...for food?” 

 Spencer lightly nodded his head, grossed out also at the thought.

----------

 “It’s about food,” Rossi said as he began to explain what they had deciphered as the motive. “Herbal sedatives, gruel, and now the placenta.” 

 “Ugh,” Penelope’s sigh was heard through the phone. “And FYI, there’s no record of anyone in La Grande buying that weird kind of sawdust the M.E. found. I’ll widen the search.”

 “We still need to figure out how this unsub was able to drug all these men,” JJ reminded everyone. 

 “The southeast intersect doesn’t get us much,” Spencer nodded to the map. “Laundromat, video rental store.”

 “The other intersect is the supermarket, yet none of the employees recognized Paul Hicks, he never shopped there,” Y/N said as she pointed to the spot on the map.

 “Garcia, what day of the week were each of the victims abducted?” Hotch asked Penelope on the phone. 

 “Let me see. Gary Ellard on a Monday, Barry Deaver on a Saturday, Terry Rodgers and Paul Hicks both on a Thursday.”

 “Is there anything special that happens in the vicinity of the markets on Thursdays?”Hotch asked. 

 “Uh...wow, you’ve done this before, haven’t you? Yeah, there’s a farmers market across the street from the supermarket every Thursday morning,” Penelope answered when she got a hit. 

 “And where is it today?” Hotch continued. 

 “Pendleton, about forty miles north on Interstate 84.” 

 “I’m sending Blake and Morgan,” Hotch replied then hung up the phone. 

-------------  

 Y/N threw the paper towel she used to dry her hands away as she pushed the door to the bathroom open. She pressed across the room as she saw Spencer receive something off of the fax machine. 

 “What do you have?” She nodded to the paper he held in his hand. 

 He turned back and watched as she stopped in the spot next to him. “Full toxicology report.” 

 His eyes went down to the paper as he quickly read over it. 

 “And?” 

 “Unlike any tox panel I’ve ever seen before,” he turned the page so she could read what he had seen.

 “They found gypsum?” She asked after she read the finding. 

 “Yeah, gypsum’s rich in sulfur, a vital plant nutrient,” Spencer explained. 

 “I’m sorry, so she’s feeding her captives soil additives?” Y/N asked, slightly grossed out. 

 “Seed meals, too. Look-” he pointed to a finding further down the page- “cotton, flax.”

 “That’s animal feed, right?” Y/N asked Spencer for confirmation. 

 He nodded. 

 “Why would you treat a human being like livestock? People raise cattle to eat.” Y/N was so confused now. This unsub’s motives were all over the place. 

 “The unsub might be using the placenta as food, but nothing in the profile suggested cannibalism,” Spencer agreed with her confusion. “I mean...unless the sawdust they found in Terry Rodgers’ nose…” 

 “What about it?” Y/N asked when he paused. 

 “When livestock die, animal carcasses turn into a useful soil amendment through the aerobic biodegradation process--” 

 “Like compost?” 

 “Exactly, you need to add a substrate high in carbon to balance the nitrogen. And one of the most efficient substances on earth is pure sawdust,” Spencer explained as he started to piece things together. 

 “She’s using her victims as human fertilizer,” Y/N muttered as she caught on to what Spencer was saying. 

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

 “Sheriff the surgeon who operated on Cheryl Winslow said that whoever did the c-section might have done one before,” Hotch said as the Sheriff walked into the room. 

 “If she did, we never heard about it,” the Sheriff responded with wide eyes. “Nothing like this has ever happened in La Grande.”  

 “Well, we can keep looking, expand the search radius to nearby towns,” Derek suggested. 

 “What about farms?” JJ’s question made everyone in the room look at her. “My grandparents had a farm in Pennsylvania. Once my grandmother had to deliver a calf by c-section to a cow that was in distress.” 

 As JJ finished, Hotch’s phone rang. 

 “Go ahead, Garcia.” 

 “I have got something, Emma Kerrigan. She runs a small juice and vegetable stand at the farmers market, and she works part-time giving out free samples at the health food co-op. I’m sending you her picture now,” Penelope said as she sent the picture. 

 “That sounds like our unsub,” Y/N said as she walked into the room, only hearing what Penelope said. 

 “Where does she live?” Hotch asked quickly. 

 “Piping Rock Farms west of town, like a hundred acres, belonged to her husband’s family-”

 “Wait, she has a husband?” Derek asked, cutting Penelope off. 

 “Had. Died in a car accident a year and a half ago, leaving her and a ten-year-old daughter,” Penelope clarified. 

 “Let’s go.” Hotch hung up the phone and rushed out of the room to suit up. 

----------------- 

 The team rolled up to the farm. The sky darkened as it had rolled into the night.

 Y/N jogged behind Rossi, JJ, and Spencer into a barn. After making sure the barn was cleared, they lowered their guns and looked around. 

 Rossi walked up to the one machine that was covered by a green tarp.

 “What’s that?” JJ nodded to the tarp. 

 Rossi grabbed the green plastic-fabric and pulled it back, revealing a grinder. 

 “Oh my…” Y/N muttered as she looked at the inside that was covered in blood. 

 They heard through their earpieces that Hotch, Derek, and Blake were heading to another barn on the property next to a garden.

 By the time they made their way to the garden, Derek said he found Emma.

 They watched as Blake handed her a bag of what looked to be ashes. 

 “It’s a miracle,” Emma said and kept repeating as she poured the bag on her daughter she had buried under soil next to one of her victims. 

 Hotch grabbed her as she poured the last bit on top of her daughter and pulled her away. The Sheriff took her away from Hotch and placed cuffs on her to lead her away.

 That next day, the team was back in the office finishing up reports from the case and having a day in the office. 

 Y/N had her feet resting on the corner of her desk, her last report of the day in her lap as she read over it to make sure everything was all good. 

 It was all hallows eve, and all Y/N wanted to do was get home, watch a stupid scary movie with Spencer and hand candy out to the kids who lived in their apartment building. 

 She looked up from her work to see Spencer already looking at her. 

 “Hey, Spence, did we remember the candy for tonight?” She asked, taking her feet off the desk and stood up to walk to his desk. 

 “We should have a lot if you didn’t eat it all,” Spencer smiled, pointing his pen at her. 

 “I wouldn’t ever do such a thing,” she laughed. 

 “That’s a lie straight from the pits of hell Y/N Y/L/N,” Derek said walking up behind her. “You keep a stash of skittles in your desk year-round.”

 “And never share, need I remind you,” Rossi added as he remembered all the time he asked for some. 

 She gasped dramatically and placed a hand on her chest, faking offense to their comments. “Gentlemen, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

 The three men laughed at her claim with an eye roll. 

 “Uh, excuse me, everybody. I have an announcement to make,” JJ said as she walked into the bullpen, rubbing her hands together excitedly.

 Once she knew she had everyone on the team’s attention, she continued. 

 “As I’m sure some of you were aware, Henry was a little nervous about going trick-or-treating this year, but he’ decided to go anyway,” JJ said excitedly. 

 “Great, what changed his mind?” Rossi asked. 

 “The BAU did,” she responded sheepishly. “I told him that he should go out on Halloween and try to figure out which monsters are real and which ones are not.” 

 “So he wants to be a profiler?” Y/N asked with a smile. 

 “Ah-” JJ held up a finger- “he wants to be his favorite profiler.” 

 On cue, Penelope led in a small Henry, dressed up as their very own, Spencer Reid. Little converse, a sweater vest, a tie, and even his own satchel bag adorned his body to make the perfect Spencer. 

 “Wow! Yeah!” Spencer said excitedly as he stood up from his chair to meet Henry in the walkway between desks.

 “Oh my gosh, JJ this is too cute,” Y/N gushed as she stood next to Spencer. 

 “Oh, wow!” Spencer squatted in front of Henry who ran up to him. “You look great, Henry.” Spencer fumbled with his I.D. badge and clipped it onto Henry’s sweater. 

 “Oh, he’s official!” Derek laughed. 

 “Tell him,” Penelope whispered into Henry’s ear. 

 “E equals MC squared!” Henry exclaimed his new knowledge excitedly. 

 The smile on Spencer’s face was unbeatable. 

 “The monsters don’t stand a chance,” Blake gushed as she looked at JJ who nodded. 

 Y/N kneeled in front of Henry. “Here Henry let me do for you what I have to do for Uncle Spencer every morning.” 

 She gently grabbed his tie and pretended to straighten it for him. Everyone laughed at the action, knowing full well that’s what she did every time his tie was crooked.

 “He’s gotta have the full effect,” Y/N looked up at JJ.

 “Oh, I know, should we go get you some candy?” JJ said as she leaned down to Henry. He nodded his head excitedly. 

 He took her hand as she led him out of the office and to the candy with Penelope. 

 “Watch your back, Pretty Boy,” Derek said to Spencer, clapping his hand on his shoulder as he and Rossi walked past.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added!!):

@throughparisallthroughrome @word-scribbless @nintendumbfuck @confused-and-really-hungry @justine-en @andiebeaword @itsarayofsunshine @baby-i-am-fireproof @abitofeverythinggg @nanocoool @marceline-is-my-spirit-animal @fancyfaucet @im-a-raging-gay @atletino @mo-whore @peterparkersdestiny @bandsandjill @mbowles23-blog @sarcasm-n-insomnia @citrussirus @nerual222 @april-14-blog @reidloversisforever @heavenlyholland @justawildmarebae @sana-li @thesailbells @l0ve-0f-my-life @spencer101reid @spencersdolore @delicateprunecashpony @sader12345678 @dashlilymark @mysticalmagicmoon @onebigfangirlworld @saturn-mp4 @hurricanejjareau @thatweirdo466 @angryknightstatesmantrash @nograciass @danandphilfan6 @la-vie-en-amour1 @squirrellover1967 @reidswords @skyirates @spideyspencer​

[rune-writes]

Rekindled Hope

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

@aerith-week » Day 7: Cherish the Memories

Word count: 2482

Rating: G

Summary: A brief look into the times Kunsel visited Aerith at her church after Zack went missing. Two people in grief. Two people seek company in each other.

Note: A little late entry for Day 7′s prompt, featuring Kunsel!^^ (because ever since I saw his mail to Zack where he spoke about Aerith’s broken wagon and her refusal to accept his help because she’s still waiting for Zack, I just need to see their interactions).

Part 3 of Follow the Yellow Flowers: Aerith Week 2021

Read on AO3. 

~*~*~*~*~

He came again—the friend—sauntering over to the flowerbed, then lounging on one of the wooden benches. He sat with his arms resting over his thighs as he folded his fingers loosely together. “How are you?” he’d ask. “How’s the garden? How are the flowers? How about your mother?” How, how, how, as if it was genuine interest and not some kind of obligation he’d felt toward his missing friend. He always kept his helmet on, ever since that day he’d taken it off and introduced himself. 

The man—boy?—was around her age. He had come knocking on the church’s door before pushing it open enough for him to slip through. Aerith had looked up then, fighting against the urge to jump and grin and say, Welcome home, Zack, because she’d gone through that scenario in more times than she could count, and not once had it been her SOLDIER with the sky-blue eyes. Reno had come one time with that swagger in his gait, grumbling at what a pain Tseng had been for putting him under babysitting duties; Aerith had frowned at him and said, “Well, go, if you don’t wanna babysit me.” Another time had been Rude, who had entered the church with a small basket in his hand. He had apparently visited her house, and her mother had told him to bring her something to eat. He’d said nothing much, just stood in the corner with that unperturbed coolness. And when Tseng came to visit a few days after that, Aerith had been prepared, rising to her feet just as the door slid open.

“What now?” she’d said, arms folded over her chest. 

Tseng had crossed the large hall with a small smile playing across his features. “Have Reno and Rude bothered you so much that you won’t give me a simple ‘hello’?”

“Even if they hadn’t, why should I?” 

Her voice had been testy, but Tseng had only scoffed, soft and amused. He’d remained silent, facing her with that impeccable smile. 

Aerith’s lips had pulled into a taut line. It had been a struggle to maintain her anger, if only because she’d had no energy left to stay angry. Not after she’d spent months waiting for someone who never came. She’d dropped her gaze, the tension leaving her shoulders in a quiet sigh. Wordlessly, she’d turned around, then crouched before her flowerbed. The yellow lilies had gazed at her, offering what little comfort flowers could give. It had been a moment before Tseng moved to her side and helped her tend her flowers. 

So when, some time later, the church’s heavy doors creaked open once more, a part of her had expected it would be one of the Turks, checking up on her as part of their daily routine. But it hadn’t been those men in black striding toward her. The person had worn none other than the SOLDIER garb she’d come to miss. A different color, she’d noted—a dark, muted purple. But it had been still a SOLDIER garb, with a SOLDIER helmet, and the person had paused mid-step on his tracks, gave a slight tilt of his head followed by a small nod, before resuming his walk and stopping in front of her. 

“Are you Aerith?” he’d asked. 

Aerith had blinked, surprised. How had this person known her name? Had the Turks sent a SOLDIER instead to watch over her? She’d given him a quiet nod, then seen a smile blossoming on his face. 

“Good, I was afraid I got the wrong person.” His voice had been light, sweet. He’d reached up and lifted the helmet off his face. A sharp, strong jawline; sculpted cheekbones; and dark brown hair that fell over his forehead; but it was the eyes that caught her attention—bright blue like the sky, rimmed with a Mako glow. 

Just like him. 

With the smile still plastered across his face, he’d held out his hand and said, “My name’s Kunsel, Zack’s friend.”

Somehow, Aerith had always evaded hearing that name. A conscious decision, perhaps, or maybe a subconscious one—the way her mind shut off any mention of it. Her mother had never spoken it, and neither had the Turks whenever they visited her. The slum residents had barely known him. Even when the so-called fan club had approached her, her mind had been ready. But when this friend introduced himself, Aerith hadn’t had the chance to prepare herself.

Zack’s friend. 

Unbidden, a lump had formed at the back of her throat. Aerith had fought back against the choke as tears sprang to her eyes. 

***

The first month Zack hadn’t returned, Aerith had believed when people said he was busy, caught up in whatever assignment the Company had given him. But then three months rolled by, six months, and now it had been well over a year, and there was still no news of his return or whereabouts.

Kunsel rose from his seat and strode over to her, crouching before the flowerbed and reaching to stroke the yellow petals. With his helmet settled over his head, Aerith felt his glance more than she saw it, but he said nothing, then went to pull the weeds sprouting from the ground. 

Why exactly was he here? She had figured SOLDIERs would have their plates full, with how many times a phonecall or mission had interrupted her date with Zack. But here Kunsel was, months after he’d introduced himself and seen her cry, months of helping her tend her flowerbed as though he had all the time in the world. He’d offered to fix her cart one time, broken after using it so many times to sell flowers around the slums, but she’d refused and said she’d wait for Zack. Because Zack would come. He had promised her he would. 

Kunsel deftly pulled at the weeds, reaching deep into the roots so as not to let them grow again. He moved quietly, scouring her flowerbed for the parasitic plants that would kill her flowers. The pile on his side grew higher with each passing moment. When he was about to go to her side, Aerith spoke up.

“No, I’ll—I’ll take care of this side.”

The SOLDIER looked at her. Even through his visor, Aerith could still see those familiar Mako-rimmed eyes. Her heart clenched. She only spared him a glance before dropping her gaze back to her chore. 

“Alright,” she heard him say. She watched him from the corner of her eye, at the efficient way he moved as he cleaned his side of the flowerbed. Silent, but still a reassuring presence. 

When had it started—when she’d started looking forward to his visits more than she would admit? She’d told him one time he hadn’t needed to help with the flowers, but Kunsel had only given her a sideways glance and said, “You let Tseng help.” No, she hadn’t. She’d told Tseng the same, but true to his character, Tseng had never listened to her. Not once. But maybe that’s not true, now that Aerith thought about it. Tseng never brought her back to the lab, and he had lent his phone that time she had wanted to call Zack. The man had known her since she was little, and despite whatever true intention he and his men had behind their visits, Aerith was grateful for the Turks’ company—as grateful as she had grown to accept Kunsel’s too. Because having someone else beside her… it helped keep the sadness at bay. 

With that thought in mind, her next words rolled out of her tongue instinctively: “I started writing letters.” She felt his glance, felt the quiet surprise, but Aerith only focused her attention on the rhythmic way her hands pulled at the weeds.

Her admission made it true—those nights she’d spent staring at her ceiling. Worry had gnawed at her heart, wondering what had happened to Zack, wondering where he was and what he was doing and if he was okay. Everyone said he might have moved on. Her mother had said to forget about him. And Aerith wanted to, if only she could. 

She was never a stranger to loneliness. She had spent her days alone in Shinra’s lab, then spent more days alone in the slums. None of the kids had played with her. The only friends she’d had were the flowers. Yet when Zack crashed through her church’s roof and fell onto her flowerbed, everything had changed. The church that had once offered her solace became a source of joy. She’d started playing a game of when-would-Zack-visit-again, and sometimes, when Aerith opened the massive double doors, she would find him already waiting for her with a grin radiant like the sun.

Across the flowerbed, Kunsel still stared at her. Aerith gave a little shrug as she said, “For a few months now, I think? Mom told me to. She hated seeing me so… down for so long, so this one night, she came up to me and asked me what I wanted to do. That if I can’t reach him by phone, I could try writing to him. Who knows? Maybe he’d read it, no matter how busy he gets…”

Busy… As though being “busy” was the one thing that had kept Zack away. As though nothing bad could have prevented him from coming home. Every time Aerith voiced her concerns to Tseng, he had always been quick to say that Zack was fine. That the company was keeping him busy for longer than anyone had expected. But Tseng had always been a trained liar, and there had been no doubt he was lying to her.

Aerith sneaked a glance at Kunsel, gauging his reaction. Would he lie to her too? But Kunsel had his eyes fixed on the weeds at his clutch, his jaws set as his gaze took on a hard glint. 

“Busy, huh…” His grip tightened, his knuckles going white. “If only that’s all there is.” He pulled the weeds with all his might. Dirt burst out in a sprinkle of dark brownish matter, showering his lap, his hands, his boots. Kunsel stared at the now-lifeless plant on his palm. “That’s what we wish, isn’t it? That he’s just too busy to check his phone or that he’s stuck somewhere with a low signal. But… is that all there is?” 

“What do you mean?”

“The news, that Zack might’ve been—” His breath catching on the word, Kunsel pursed his lips. But Aerith knew what he meant. Killed in action. She’d heard. When those fan club people had approached her—they might not have realized, but she’d heard snippets of their conversation. Her fingers twitched, a muscle fluttering along her jawline. Aerith didn’t believe it.

Across from her, Kunsel cleared his throat. “I never believed it. Not one bit of it. I know he’s out there somewhere, and the Company is hell bent on keeping it a secret.”

Aerith blinked in surprise. “How are you so sure?” 

“Because I tried looking for him, and they cut my search short.” 

The silence that followed was deafening. Aerith stared at Kunsel, trying to make sense of his words. Was Kunsel insinuating that Shinra was the reason Zack went missing?

Kunsel’s face was hard as he returned to his chore, his movement swift and efficient. Before long, he’d cleaned the entire flowerbed, even the section Aerith had meant to clean herself. He gathered all the weeds, then rose, bringing them to the trash can outside the church. When he returned, the hard glint was gone. In its place was a brilliant beam. 

“Have faith, Aerith. He’ll come back. One way or another, he’ll come back for sure. He promised, didn’t he?”

Aerith stared at him, at that conviction that was so strong, so bright, so contagious. It made her own hope flickered back to life. She had not yet felt his soul pass her by—the way Elmyra’s husband’s had after he died in Wutai. Zack was still out there. She was sure of it. 

“Is that why you’re here?” she asked then. “To give me hope?”

Her question had taken Kunsel off guard. It showed in the widening of his eyes and the slight slackening of his jaws. Her mouth quirked into a little smirk, Aerith snorted, turning away to hide her laughter behind her hand. 

“Hey,” he said, and she heard the amused chuckle in his voice. Kunsel snorted, then scoffed. “For your information, I’m Zack’s best friend. You ask every SOLDIER, grunt, or even the Turks who Zack’s friend is and they’re gonna say me. I know everything about your boyfriend, including how head-over-heels in love he is with you. So, if you ask me why I’m here…” 

His voice trailed off. The way Kunsel had nonchalantly bragged about being Zack’s friend had made her want to laugh, but seeing his face now, seeing his melancholic smile… Aerith pursed her lips. 

Kunsel lifted his face and stared at the hole in the roof. In a voice so low that Aerith had almost missed it, he said, “I promised I’d look after you, so that’s what I’m gonna do.”

A shift in the clouds outside gave way to sunlight slanting in through the hole. It shone on Kunsel’s helmet, making the metal sparkle. In another timeline, had she met Kunsel when Zack was still here, would they have become fast friends without this sorrow hanging over them? Laughing and joking around as the boys visited her at the church. 

Kunsel shielded his eyes at the blinding sun. “It’s sunny outside. Wanna have a walk?” Those sky-blue eyes were bright and clear, Aerith found the sight of them didn’t hurt her anymore. Still a twinge of pain, but nothing she couldn’t handle. 

Aerith rose to her feet. She brushed her hands against her dress, then stretched her arms over her head. Holding her hands behind her back, she followed Kunsel’s gaze and, for the first time in a long time, looked at the sliver of blue between two metal plates. She held her gaze, even as her heart constricted at the sight of it.

When you come back from your assignment, let’s go sell flowers under the sky together. I won’t be afraid if you’re with me.

A lump formed at the back of her throat, Aerith pressed her lips in a thin line. The flowers on her feet swayed in a nonexistent wind, as if trying to comfort her. As if trying to say, he’ll come back.

Aerith threw Kunsel a sideways glance. The SOLDIER was looking at her with an inviting tilt of his head. “Sure,” she said, and felt her lips parting into a small, genuine smile, one that came from her heart. “Let’s go. And you can take your helmet off if you want. Isn’t it stuffy?” She met his look of surprise with a grin, before heading off to exit the church.

~ END ~