#i went with something based off of the sign descriptions

[kaszuma]

Oxygen is all we need | Hoshina Soshiro

Part 5 of “Certainly Yours”

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x fem!reader

summary: you rarely see soshiro be breathless on the battlefield. And the one time you did, it was coerced by a sentient Numbers Weapon you had created.

warnings: NSFW explicit scenes with plot, mentions of sexual m/f activity, Fingering/handjob with Combat Suit on, Semi-public fingering/handjob, Hoshina being a little feral, slight description of gore for dissecting combat suits, mentions of injury for Hoshina, SPOILERS for Kn8 manga

wc: 7,719

–

note: Please tell me if I missed any warnings. There's kind of a lot. NSFW part was originally gonna be some soft lovemaking type of writing. But I figured I could save that for a future part. Went too feral on his Number 10 Combat Suit from reading the manga lmao. This is not proofread

–

Soshiro Hoshina, was an enigma.

He had always been that way to his peers. He was no different to you, now that you had been privy to see a small part of his life that people have yet to pry open.

Despite the laid-back persona he'd exemplify, you were always aware of the disciplined and hard working nature he hid beneath the surface of his jokes and smiles. And his everyday life only showed a fraction of this side of him that no one seems to pay attention to.

All except you of course, who had been keeping an eye on him well before the two of you started dating.

It started in the little actions he'd take. From the early hours of the morning, he'd wake up on the dot just to grab a cup of coffee before the day had turned busy. The privacy of his office had been made neat, filled with finished paperwork that he'd arranged the day before. Leaving room for him to swing his sword in the training rooms until the cool nights of the summer where even cicadas started sleeping early.

His comrades? Fast asleep in their bunks. Unaware that the Vice Captain was sweating. Recreating the battles he's faced in the wake of an emergency. Where Tachikawa's base had been left in his hands.

Every failure, every mistake, every mishaps he had allowed. He had made sure to embed the consequences deep into his body. Making a vow to never let anyone catch him off guard. Kaiju or humans included. And although it was a rare sight. Even you, his lover. Had not seen him work himself breathless.

Not once had you caught him wheezing to catch up. His hard work, hidden under people's watch.

His efforts were definitely there. But no one had been able to see his training first hand. Leaving people to chalk it up to simply talent, or the bloodline of his ancestry belonging to a family of generational Kaiju Slayers.

But his hard work, though hidden. Had not all been in vain. As he of all people knew deep down that he worked–no, strived to become better. To prove his existence in the field. And you, had strived to make it happen in the wake of Kaiju Number 10 readying itself to be weaponized upon your command.

It had been a few days since you and a team of technicians had decidedly worked on converting Kaiju no. 10 as a plausible weapon. A suit befitting for your lover to wear.

The first time you had seen its deformed body, trapped in a tank for containment. It had chilled you to the bone. When it briefly made eye contact with you. As if it knew something deep within your body that you hadn't known yet. Its one eye continuously staring at your form, in a strange admiration. Similar to how it looked to Soshiro.

Admiration was one thing. But said admiration coming from a potentially dangerous Kaiju was another. Such is the way of their line of work.

Surprisingly, anytime the tank had been registered open. You had not seen Kaiju no. 10 struggle at all in its restraints. Not at all bothered at the mere fact that its life was threatened to be converted into a weapon. The plates of armor, although mangled. Had not shown any signs of tension. And each incision you'd make was relaxed. The formation of the modified Combat Suit was simple. Unrestrained, even. To the point that it would obediently let you slice it as you wished. To shape and mold it to the combat suit you wished to make.

Hell, it even went as far as to talk you through it when you were removing the last bits of his shattered headpieces. Leaving the core and its surrounding muscle fibers intact. Beating, breathing like a heart. “So this is the one huh?” You heard it's gurgled laughter. As if you had not been cutting it open for hours by now.

Soshiro and a few soldiers were stationed right behind you. A team of other technicians and scientists assisting your movements to place the armor pieces together. The tension in the room was heavy, weapons readied in the case of an emergency. But like always, the Kaiju had all but stayed completely still. Obedient with a few laughs here and there for the hell of it.

“Even his woman is a weapons creator. I really did make the right decision to join forces with you, Swordsman.” Kaiju no. 10 had spoken. And you look over to Soshiro wearily at the way it had so easily figured out your relationship with him. It’s as if it read his mind, which both startled and irked your lover to no end.

“Shut yer’ trap. By the time she's done with you, you're as good as obedient to me.” You had seen the way Soshiro had glared at the dismembered monster. And the way his voice had lowered an octave. It made you momentarily forget that you were in a room full of people.

You purse your lips. Trying not to focus on his smooth voice. Not when you were potentially busy dealing with a Kaiju that had not been fully weaponized yet.

You had all but shook your head. No, get your mind out of the gutter.

“Stop provoking each other.” You spoke, pulling away at the last bit of veins connected to the hardened plating. "I'm trying to work here.”

You let out a sigh. Eventually taking the last muscle fiber and attaching the last bit of the Kaiju’s parts onto the mold of the suit. Its shape fully formed right besides its old carcass that had been readily discarded afterwards. The Combat Suit took ages to cut apart. With its armor far too hard to penetrate with just a scalpel alone. But somehow you and your team had managed. And all somehow went according to the blueprints you made.

The suit was the right size. The plating was sturdy, amplified with shields and wires that would support its structure. And the fact that it had an added limb for a tail. Its extension beautifully connected to the lower end of its spine that completed the look.

Number 10 had not made a single sound as it had likely died from being weaponized. Like the rest of the Kaiju before it. And you mentally pat yourself on the back for a job well done for making quick work of him.

Or at least..that's what was supposed to happen. “Wear me, swordsman. I want to fight something already.”

Huh?

“It's still speaking?” You had felt yourself be pulled back. Soshiro had wasted no time getting in front of you. Hand already on the hilt of his swords, as the weaponized Kaiju stared straight back at him. This time, instead of a mangle corpse, it had been a combat suit. Capable of speech and thought processing.

“Why is it still sentient?” He had glanced back at you. And you can see the faint traces of his still fresh bandages wrap around his lower neck, within the zipper of his jacket.

“I don't know.” You had spoken truthfully. “We've never had to weaponize a sentient Kaiju before.” You had replied. Weary of the tension in the room. Soshiro's back had all but blocked your view from the Combat Suit. And it laughed when the rest of the technicians also backed up. Cowering behind some of the soldiers who already had their guns raised. Pointed straight at the tank that held the completed weapon.

“Is it safe to use?” Soshiro asked.

“It should be. The rest of his core can't sync up to his body anymore, so I doubt he can kill anyone right now.” You explained. Not once had Soshiro looked away from the suit.

You had watched as Soshiro wearily stood straighter. This time, raising his hand so that the rest of the soldiers would lower their aimed weapons. And although they had been hesitant, they had done exactly that. With the weaponized Kaiju not reacting at all in fact.

“Well this isn't good..” He whispered. Skeptical about letting you get any closer to it as the Kaiju inside of it seemed ecstatic. Screaming praises towards you, excited that it might be worn soon. And Soshiro twitched, his smile irritated more than usual.

“It..probably needs a bit more time to adjust in the combat suit. For now, let me work on it alone.” You had suggested, seeing the skepticism of the other technicians who did not want anything to do with the suit who is very much still alive.

You had no doubt that no one wanted to work on the weapon, especially since it was still very sentient. Now in possession of solidified upgrades to strengthen its use in combat. If it was still able to formulate thoughts despite having been completely mangled as a weapon. Kaiju no. 10, now had the means to breach the combat suit's limitations. In the case it did lose control. And when you were working with an unidentified threat, there's a high chance it wouldn't hesitate to attack.

Meaning, if the higher ups wanted this weapon usable for Soshiro. Then you were the only one who'd be willing to work through the weapon’s new kinks and pieces. To stop it from getting wild and uncontrollable.

It had obediently let you work on it the first time. You were positive that it wouldn't be a problem now. Right?

“...Are you sure about this? I don't mind if it doesn't become usable ya’ know? It ain't worth risking your life like this.” He had briefly brushed a thumb to your cheek. Forgetting that there had been an audience of officers just behind them.

Though it seems Soshiro did not care much about that. More worried for your safety, in all of this.

“Calm down swordsman. I'm not interested in killing the woman who's bound to make me stronger. It'll keep things..Interesting.”

Soshiro had looked over to the tube that held the weaponized Kaiju in place. It didn't even register in your eyes when he had unsheathed one of his blades. Pointing the tip directly at the cross section on the combat suit's chest. Where the eye had been placed. “Keep talking and I'll slice you to ribbons ya’ little-”

But before he could threaten number 10, you had crossed your way over to lower his weapon. A gentle hand on his bandaged chest that had been healing for a few days now. “I will be just fine.”

“You heard him, he won't hurt me.”

“And ya’ sure about that?” He had a strained smile on his lips. Bordering frustration as he had not once moved his gaze from the suit.

“If he planned to, he would've attacked me way before I could dice him up to make armor out of him.” You had given him a small smile. Despite your own skepticism.

“I'll be fine..” You reassured him again. And silence took momentary peace in the room full of weary people. The others had not been convinced in the slightest.

Soshiro had a minute to take in your words. His hardened gaze softened momentarily as it met your pretty face. And as usual, you did not falter when you spoke confident sentences. Strong-willed and unafraid as you were. As self-confident as ever it seems, befitting for someone who worked closely on the defense force despite not being a soldier. You were troublesome indeed. But he had no doubt you'd be able to make something out of the living Kaiju he and Captain Ashiro worked so hard to kill.

He couldn't help but let out a sigh. Placing his blade back on his hip. “Fine. But, I'm staying here with you, so…”

“Get him ready, and I'll be the one to break him in for ya.”

–

It had been a few days since that incident occurred. After a few talks with command, you had been granted access to a private facility where the necessary tools and materials were given to you to fix Number 10's control over the weaponized suit. Having been quickly transferred to a private facility that no one but a select few had access to.

Surprisingly, Soshiro had done well on his promise. Leaving the Tachikawa base to stay with you on a daily basis in the case that Kaiju no. 10 would attack. Likely having already explained the situation to Captain Ashiro long before you had worked on adjusting the suit’s flaws.

Soshiro was usually a patient man. But being a Vice Captain of an entire division, you did not want to waste a second of his packed schedule when he was already so busy with his other responsibilities. So you wasted no time as you continued to limit the weapon's control over its armored body. Thoroughly eradicating its ability to disobey order from its wearer, but to no avail.

So far, all you had been able to do was to limit the monster's movements, down to a singular point which was its tail. The limb seems to have a mind of its own, and it did not bother to listen to any of you nor Soshiro's commands. Demanding that they let him battle a Kaiju to test out his new uses. And the moment Soshiro had declined. You weren't spared from Kaiju no. 10's complaining either. Constantly yapping in excitement for a battle that had yet to start.

Although it wasn't nearly as controlled as you liked, command had apparently dubbed the weaponized combat suit as usable enough for Soshiro to handle. And despite the dangers of its early prototypes, they were both given the permission to do a test run within the indoor training grounds provided near the labs.

Which is what leads you today, alone once more in an enforced room no less. Watching Soshiro step into the small pod, where wires had connected the Weaponized combat suit onto his body.

And from the control panel right next to it. You are able to grasp a few readings of his vitals. All seemed stable thus far.

“Are you sure about this? Wouldn't it be safer to have soldiers on standby for the simulation?” You had stood up from your chair. Brows scrunched the moment the combat suit had zipped closed around his body.

Your eyes had glanced over at the way his suit had all but molded to his form. The armor plating had fit distinctly to his chest. And his arms and legs had no trouble adjusting to the heavy heat of Kaiju no. 10's muscle fibers. The ones you had distinctly measured to fit his body. A combat suit made only for him in mind.

And he looked damn good in it. You thought.

“I’ll be fine sweetheart. I'm confident ya’ made it safe enough for me to wear it.” He had spoken through the standard respiratory mask he wore. And you could hear each audible breath he took in. Calm and steady unlike the buzz in your head that kept glancing down your lover's abdomen.

You had half a mind to look away. To not focus on the ridges of his plated hands. The hardened steel that covered his abs. And that damn tail on his back, that traced the ridges of his neck and spine.

Fuck.

Here he was, trusting his safety to the very core of your days worth of handiwork. And all you were thinking about is how you wished his hands were unbuttoning your blouse. And worse.

“Sure.” You stutter.

“Let's just hope it syncs up with your brain waves..” You had distracted yourself. Forcing your eyes to face the screen instead of his body. And you could see the way Soshiro had visibly slackened when he had noticed the way you had turned away from him. And this abruptness had made him frown a little. Thinking that the suit might've scared you to bits. A far cry to the actual thoughts swimming in your mind.

“Your woman here is quite talented in strengthening me. I see why you can't ignore her.” Kaiju no. 10 spoke to him. A chuckle sounding out from the small intercom he wore. Luckily you were too distracted to hear its comment.

“You show hesitation. If I had been the one in control, I'd show no restraint to your woman and take her as mine..” Soshiro had heard it's voice in his head. And flashes of their synced brain had shown him a brief future where you had pinned her under his arms. His clawed hands gripping at the plush of your thighs, and he'd carefully start to taste the droplets of slick that would caress the skin nearest your-

He shook his head.

“Quit yappin’ or I'll have you decommissioned before you can ever become useful to me.” He had stepped forward. The wires disconnecting from the skeletal structure of his armored back. And Soshiro could feel the weight of the weaponized combat suit completely engulf his body. That tail of his, which previously belonged to Kaiju no. 10. Was swinging around haphazardly, out of his control. Like it had been excited from being worn. After days of laying dormant in the table to be operated on.

But if Soshiro had to guess. It was likely this excitement had stemmed from the thoughts the Kaiju had dug up from the very back of his brain. Thoughts that he had kept for himself in the darkness of his room where no one would disturb him.

And a monster having access to that?

Shit.

He might not hear the end of it.

If only he hadn't put that image inside his head. Who would've thought that syncing his brain waves with a sentient combat suit would have him thinking sinful thoughts. In broad daylight too, where the suit could monitor every muscle and bone in his body. Each reaction recorded and documented for a report.

He had heard stories that this was a common side effect that the Weapon Numbers had. The non-sentient ones had at least some form of memory of their previous users. The difference was, number 10 was more talkative. Straightforward even. It had just been his luck that the monster somehow managed to resurface a few of his thoughts that he buried deep within the very corners of his brain.

And here he was, in a situation that made his body unbelievably breathless and hot. Alone and in front of you.

“Vital signs are okay..but your thermal readings are higher than normal.” You had spoken. Shaking away the tingling sensation you felt from seeing him in the Combat suit. More worried about his well being this time.

But Soshiro couldn't seem to look you in the eye. A strained smile seems to have overcome his features as he felt the heat travel from the pit of his stomach, all the way down to the valley between his legs.

Shit.

Now was not the right time for him to harden.

“Is everything alright?” You had walked up much closer to him. And you can see the telltale signs of breathlessness in him. Odd considering he had never been caught breathless like this. And the moment you had come closer in proximity, he took a singular step back.

Which didn't go unnoticed by you.

In actuality, he was lucky that your eyes had been focused on his face. His pants were loose, no different from the standard uniform all officers would wear. But if you looked hard enough, you might be able to see the signs of his printed heat. Carved on the fabric nearest his thighs.

“Just peachy.” He answers with a chuckle.

“He's just..a little noisy that's all.” He had cleared his throat. Feeling the familiar sensation of his erection start to throb. And another wave of uncontrollable thoughts had washed over his mind. Likely a result from No. 10 sharing its desires to him. No, rather than sharing its thoughts, it most likely resurfaced his feelings that he kept hidden from his lover.

It hadn't been that long since you had officially gotten together. Save one date or two during the rare occasion that they'd both be off-duty. But never had they been intimate in that way before. Hell, he didn't even know if you were a virgin or not.

He flinches. Suddenly feeling the shockwave of heat skim across his armored body, making him falter from his movements to back away. And he falls forward. A hand on your shoulder to steady himself before he could completely stumble.

“Soshiro!” He had heard you speak. The palm of your hand against his chest. But his mind was dazed. His name on your lips had made his pants feel awfully tight. And his ears had warmed slightly, removing the respiratory mask on his face so that he could breathe more evenly. “M’ fine..”

His tone had not been convincing. And you could feel the quick breaths he'd take to make up for the lack of oxygen that took up all the heat in his body.

Damn you, Kaiju no. 10. Soshiro could practically hear it chuckling.

“Stop lying..” You had spoken exasperatedly. “Is he talking to you right now?” You heard him give you a hum.

And such a curt reply makes you wonder. Finding it odd that Soshiro, who was normally talkative and easy-going, had all but quieted down. Your question remained unanswered as he was too busy hearing the words of the Weaponized suit in his head. Urging him forward which had left you clueless to the thoughts in his head. “Your hesitation is cowardly. Move. Or I will, swordsman.”

And he purses his lips at the thought. His head leaning against your shoulder. Hand abruptly moving to palm the small of your back to pull you much closer than before. And he gritted his teeth at Number 10's coercion. “Don't touch her.”

His growl had made you flinch. And you can see the way his fangs had showed up from the way his teeth had bared. The low baritone of his voice had been unlike him. Heavy and out of breath. But somehow the sound shot straight down your core. And it makes you gulp.

The reply had clearly not been for you. And such actions would provoke him enough to pull you closer. That and you had found it strange for him to be acting in such a way. You had assumed as much that Number 10 would be talking to him. Though exactly what they had conversed about you hadn't had a clue. Only going off in the little hints of emotions you’d find surrounding his body and face. But that had been impossible too.

Not when he had his nose buried on the crook of your neck where the scent of your subtle cologne had wafted thoroughly. Leaving a mark that made him want to do as Number 10 had desired. Or better yet, provoked him to do it.

“Soshiro..” you called softly. Running your hands through his dark hair starts to worry for both his physical and mental state. It was common knowledge that Weaponized Kaiju would put a strain on its user. And you did not want to risk his life for an early prototype that had yet to be perfected by you.

To your better judgment, you had led him to lean against the control panel. Gently letting his back hit the surface of the table. And you had slowly unwrapped yourself from him. Reaching to the keyboard which will let you issue a command to get him ejected from the Weaponized Kaiju.

But before you could reach to press a few buttons, he pulled you back. Strong hands wrapping at the softness of your waist. Gingerly pulling you back, closer to him in proximity to prevent your escape. Your spine was pressed up against his chest where you could feel the sturdiness of his suit against your shoulder. And your frown at your lover's unusual stubbornness. Not one to often find him resisting any actions you'd issue when it came to testing weaponized materials. “Soshiro, just hold still I need to-”

You flinched. Stopping your sentence midway.

The sudden feeling of his teeth sinking into the nape of your neck had overridden whatever words that wanted to leave your mouth. All but too focused on the feeling of his teeth taking a bite from the skin of your very neck.

Surprisingly, his bite had not been enough to draw blood. It was softer than you anticipated. One that oddly made you yelp in a pleased manner. And just as quickly as he marked the area, he moved to lick away at the reddened state your skin had been left in. Which you had not expected, placing a hefty hand over your lips to strangle any noises your throat attempted to make from his intimate actions.

“Soshiro, wait.” You had flinched again.

Feeling his lips trail kisses southward. Down from the nape, all the way over to the pulse point on your neck. He had hummed, giving your skin a few kitten licks. Before he immediately sank his teeth into your skin once more.

Leaving red marks that left you jolting against him. Your head leaning back to press closer against his shoulder. Likely to let his teeth sink deeper, if he wanted to. But Soshiro, even in this dazed state, remained disciplined. Rigid as he didn't let the bite intensify in fear of injuring you. His only intent was to leave ravishing red marks that proved to him that you were his. A warning to the Kaiju that threatened his place beside you.

“Mm..sorry dear. You're jus’ way too fuckin sweet.” He mumbled against your skin. His tail, which had previously been quiet, had now wrapped itself loosely against your leg. As if trying to pull you closer to Soshiro's body. The same sentiment seemed to have been shared between Kaiju No. 10 and Soshiro. And you wonder if this had been the result of their minds syncing up. The conversation they would have in their head remained a mystery to you as they worked in tandem to challenge each other further. And you had hesitantly tried to pull away despite not wanting to stop.

“We're still at work..” You had whispered out. Breathing heavily as he licked and sucked on your neck. Leaving purple marks on the wake of his careful lips. Even in this state he had been meticulous. Leaving careful bites that only ever felt ticklish and pleasant. And he pulled you closer, halting you from escaping.

He had not been rough at all in the way he had so easily painted your skin with his masterpieces. And although his grip was firm. All you needed was to push him away. To stop him from going further. But you hadn't moved a single inch away. Let alone stop him.

“I know..I just..” He breathes heavily against your jaw and ear. Taking your free hand to drag it behind you. Guiding your touch to trace the ridges of his abdomen. Reaching all the way down to the softness of his pants. And you feel the cold zipper of his clothes graze against your fingertips.

But more importantly. Something warmer had touched her fingertips. And you could feel the shape of his length under the confines of fabric. Painfully hard and tight from his size. And you feel your breath hitch the moment you had realized why exactly he had been heating up so abnormally since he wore the suit. The strangled sound of his groan had been muffled by his lips pressing thinly together. Biting back the soft sighs as he guides your warm palm to press harder against his crotch.

“Jus’ tell me to stop.” He whispered.

“Tell me you don't want this..” He breathlessly groaned. Suddenly finding relief that your hand had cupped the very place he had been craving friction from. The texture of his pants made him shiver as you had delicately traced the imprint of his hard-on. As if all but admiring the large warmth in your hand. And you realized that your body showed no signs of stopping. Giving into the inhibitions that that struggle through the restraints of your logic.

And although you couldn't face him right now, you spoke softly. Immediately in your reply. “I want this..”

Soshiro had taken a moment to glance at you. And he sees the redness of your cheeks bloom against your skin. Chest heaving just as much as he was when he had started thinking about the pleasure in his body. Number 10 had seemed to read both you and him so easily that he didn't need to hold you both in place just so something would happen. The work is already being done in place as you suddenly press yourself further into his erection.

Without warning, you start grinding your hands against him. Moving it up and down, feeling the way the fabric rolled against your palm and the traces or dampness. Ones that alluded to sticky mess he made underneath the fabric.

A hiss came from his mouth and Soshiro couldn't help but pull you closer by the hips. His enhanced hands, one that had been strengthened by the weaponized suit, would likely leave bruises on the handle of your hips. If he had been too caught up or careless in his actions.

So he faltered, moving his hand away from your body. Instead, deciding to prop itself up on the surface of the control panel they leaned on. The other hand, which had still made contact with your hips. Had caressed you hungrily upon your own touches. Holding back his urges to grab you too tightly lest he breaks your body from his strength alone. An idea likely from Kaiju no. 10 who had oddly quieted down from his actions. Whether it too can feel the effects you have on him was a mystery to him. One of which he had greedily just decided to ignore for the time being.

He'll save the lectures for later.

“Fuck-” He had sighed out. Feeling your fingers start palming him harder. Rubbing his crotch vigorously. Enough to cause him to squirm in place. His eyes had momentarily opened. Squinting around for any cameras or recording devices hidden in the training room. Luckily, there was conveniently none. Likely a result of keeping Weapons 10 a secret in the case they get infiltrated by a Kaiju.

Not that it was a problem for him. He'd wipe any footage he finds later. And everyone would be none the wiser to their endeavors.

His focus had solely fixated on the way your fingertips felt upon his crotch. His hips have grown desperate. Moving to grind against your hand to get more friction out of you. But to no avail, the fabric was in the way. And right now, his only thought was that this moment, although as pleasing to him as it did to you, had been the worst time for the both of you to start in.

He had it all planned out too.

He'd take you out on a date on his off-duty. Make you wear a pretty sundress that he could easily peel off. And focus on your pleasure for the rest of the night should he be allowed to do so.

But this had been too different from his plans. Far too risky and sudden for his liking. His pleasure had been amped, and he had felt the careful touches you'd do in order to please him. Touch and palm his dick until it was beyond the point of arousal. Make him spill an early load in the confines of a training room no less.

But he'll be damned if he doesn't please you too.

“Ngh..You too sweetheart..” He groaned. “Let me make you feel good too.” He whispered, trying to regain a sense of control when his crotch had surely been sticky and wet from all the precum that damped his own boxers.

The hand that had hesitated in gripping your hip had slid forward to your stomach. His fingers tracing down the crumpled blouse that had tucked into the standardized pencil skirt that you had worn. And time and time again, it had not failed to grab his attention in each waking moment you decided to wear the damn thing.

The way it had hugged your figure, where he'd sneak a glance at the curves of your stomach and hips. His thoughts couldn't help but darken, admiring the way you had always managed to capture his attention. Unwarranted and without warning.

He didn't hesitate to pull your skirt up. Trailing the fabric directly above your navel until it revealed the pretty underwear you wore. And his textured fingertips traced his name on the waistband of the fabric. Playing with the mere shudders you'd make upon his touches. Your hands, which had busied themselves by touching Soshiro’s crotch, had stilled for a moment. Giving him a stellar opportunity to make up for lost time. It was his turn now.

“Keep yer legs open for me sweetheart..” He had whispered out. Immediately running his hand through the valley of your clothed core. Feeling the dampness of the underwear, stain his coarse fingertips with your slick. Your inner thighs which had quivered against his light touches had glistened as a few droplets slipped past his fingers which made the skin of your thighs all the more tantalizing to watch.

He'd like to admire it more if he were being honest. He could tell number 10 had been all the same as his tail trailed up further onto your thighs. Gripping the skin to keep you in place. But right now, it wasn't the ideal setting for such a thing. Had this been a perfect world, he'd have taken you somewhere more comfortable. More private to please you. But right now, the suit isn't responding to any of his commands. And the best way to shut him and his damn urges up was to do this as quickly as possible. He'll have to make up for this at a later date. For now, all they needed was each other's touches.

“Soshiro..wait, I've never-” You threw your head back. Pausing when the hand that had moved to palm your cunt had suddenly invaded your space. His fingers had slipped past your waistband to quickly pinch at the sensitive bundle of nerves above your entrance. Your clit throbbing to meet his touches as you clenched against nothing in particular. Leaving Soshiro's own pulsating erection shuddering from your lack of touches. Far too distracted to continue your previous movements. Pinching your tender clit had made Soshiro groan in response. Feeling just how wet you had gotten for him despite only touching you just now.

“This your first time?” He whispered. Kissing you squarely on the shoulders. Trying his best to calm your nerves at the new feeling he was giving you. His hand was far too occupied at touching the quivering spot between your legs. And he starts rubbing circles with his fingers. Pressing down on the nub of your clit which made you moan and buck your hips in response.

“Shh..S’okay. Let me take care of ya.” He breathed next to your ear. “I won't enter ya..just focus on the pleasure.” He sighed out. His fingers were already making quick work of your entrance which had not wasted any more time than he should have. Weary that anyone could walk in and see them doing other things that didn't involve number 10's prototype testing.

Immediately, he didn't hesitate to run his hands through your fleshy lips. Mixing the liquids of your slick to help satisfy the itch your heat had felt. And the noises you made when you spoke his name had all but proved to encourage his touches further. Stretching your cunt wide open to make way for his fingers.

And you had all but yelped the moment his movements had made quick and distinct touches to your cunt. Your entrance trying its damndest to swallow his fingers whole that had so easily helped build up the euphoric high your core desperately chased after. But to no avail, his fingers teased. Slipping past the entrance just to help you fit his fingers in much easier. Testing out whether you can take the stretch of his fingers or not.

Despite the strain on his pants, his hand had expertly rubbed and felt your fleshy entrance. Squeezing the slick out of you as it had completely dampened his fingers and the underwear that had threatened to slip past your thighs.

The shaky moans you'd let out was followed up by a finger slowly prodding at your cunt's entrance and without warning his coarse gloved hands had invaded you without struggle. His finger easily made it past the slippery exterior he worked so hard to prep. All for this moment. “Nghh..Soshi..ro..feels good.”

“I know sweetheart. You're close right?” His own shaky breaths had replied back. His fingers suddenly pistoning in and out of your sopping wet core. Invading and reaching spots no one, not even you had reached before. And your head throws back against him. Hand immediately palming his clothed dick to encourage him further. The unfamiliar feeling of a string coiling around the pit of your stomach had formed. And it threatened to spill out from your cunt like a glass cup that had been too full.

“Mmm..let me touch you too.” You had managed to let out between sighs. Your legs are shivering at this point. And you feel your underwear slip down to pool against your ankles. No longer struggling to keep itself up against your inner thighs. Revealing the lewd scene of his fingers penetrating your cunt. You hadn't even realized he added a finger until he started moving it in a scissoring motion. And you had half a mind to give up on your endeavors to match his euphoria.

But you have always been quite a stubborn person. Even when you had carefully tiptoed around each other. You had been bold in your endeavors. And you were bolder now, more than ever.

“Shit- hold on a second..mmm..” Soshiro had felt the way your hand had reached to unzip his pants. And your palm had gradually encased his dick with the warmth of your fingers. Massaging his erection directly to feel the ridges and veins it naturally had. The tip of it was a raging red that dripped pearlescent drops of his precum. Bubbling at the slit to land on the floor below them.

And Soshiro couldn't help but groan. Imagining that it had been your cunt that had engulfed his dick in languid motions.

Number 10 didn't need to coerce him this time. Getting lost on the feeling as he bucked his hips to meet the sensations you dished out. But despite this, he did not falter in his actions at all. Completely enamored that he could touch you and feel you all at the same time. Driving his mind into a short circuit the minute his fingers managed to reach deeper into your cunt. Finding the hardened button of your g-spot that only makes your vision blurry.

“uh…ahh..I'm close. Soshiro..I'm close..” You had closed your eyes, your movements beginning to turn sloppy as you tried to keep up with his pace. And your shaky moaning had increased in volume since then.

Soshiro could feel the telltale signs of your release. Feeling your cunt squeeze onto his fingers which had been knuckle deep into you at this point. And he too lets out a shaky moan when he feels his semen drip down more steadily from his dick. Leaving the liquid dripping between your fingers and soft palms. “Me too..”

“Just..keep your voice down dear.” He spoke slowly. Burying his face unto the crook of your neck before bucking his hips wildly into your hand. Letting him control the pace in which you had massaged his dick. And he began seeing stars. Your moans had been crystal clear while his fingers stretched you open. Grinding up against your cunt whilst his thumb pressed deeply against your clit to further push you on the edge.

And without warning, you had arched your back to scream.

Soshiro hadn't realized this as you both came. The release for both of you had been so intense that he had forgotten all about Kaiju no. 10 who was still silent but active within his suit. Silently snarling and listening in on the intensity your pleasure had dictated the scene. Number 10 had not been perfected as a weapon, So it still had somewhat of a mind of its own. Able to control just a part of its tail upon being worked on for days on end.

And surprisingly, he made himself rather useful when its weaponized tail wrapped around the jaw of her mouth. Muffling your pleasured screams before you'd be found out by any passing officers outside of the training room.

Your body convulsed at the feeling.

The euphoria traveling in shockwaves as your ivory essence had pooled between your thighs and his hand. Coating it with the liquid that you had not thought you'd be able to reach without Soshiro's expertise. Luckily, his dick was much the same.

Shooting out thick semen that had stained the skin of your calf to create a messy picturesque sequence that he's sure would be number 10’s leverage for the next time they try to test him as a prototype. And that had been all Soshiro needed to know for a sigh to escape his lips. His weird suit sure had its ups and downs he supposes. But if this were to happen again, he'd rather keep you as far away from him when he's wearing this suit for the next time around.

“Sorry..” You had heard Soshiro breathe out. And you watch him in the corner of your eyes. As hair clung against the sweaty sheen of your cheek. The tail that had muffled your mouth slowly retracted upon Soshiro's command. And you could've sworn you heard a faint laughter from within the Number 10. As if he too had been satisfied by such an event.

“What for?” You had smiled. Glancing at the way your lover had breathed heavily. Taking in the steady breathes he needed after the passionate event you had both experienced. And his face had gingerly lifted up from your shoulder. A baffled look crossing his features.

“I didn't mean to attack you like that..I-” He paused. Feeling the way the Combat suit had finally cooled down. Signaling that it had been shut down. Likely because it had not been fitted for a better power source yet. So it turned off on its own before Number 10 could even make another snide comment, one of which Soshiro was sure he'd be doing just about now. Had he the actual power capacity to do so.

And he grits his teeth upon the suit slowly opening up to reveal the compression shirt he wore underneath it. Finally his control had been mostly back. With Number 10 no longer plaguing his thought process.

“Damn this Kaiju..” He whispered. Removing his fingers from your core. And you flinch upon the loss of his warmth.

“It's fine.” You shook your head.

“Was it the Kaiju giving you ideas? or was it all you?” You had asked. Suddenly it was strange that the researcher in you would surface after just touching each other so lewdly earlier. But you couldn't help but wonder. He had acted strangely upon putting on Number 10. You'd only assume they had a spoken agreement earlier when Soshiro had looked protective almost, in the way he had held you.

“Most of it..yeah..” Soshiro had admitted. Awkwardly looking away knowing that he might've crossed boundaries with you. He'd be remiss if you didn't get a little bit angry at the sudden attack. And he wouldn't blame you if you had not wanted to be anywhere near him ever again.

But you surprised him once more when you moved to kiss him on the lips. Unchanged in the way you felt when you had consented to his advances. It was partly your logic that encouraged him. It was partly your fault too for not stopping him when he asked. Now you both were held responsible in submitting a fake report that would inevitably be submitted to command. And such a kiss that spoke those very sentiments leaves him breathless, trying to catch oxygen before it could leave him panting for another.

“Good. I'd be pissed off if you told me you didn't want me at all.”

“Did’ya really think I didn't want you?” He sighed. “I just..wanted you to feel special. Unlike how I treated you before..”

And you couldn't help but smile. Knowing how hard Soshiro had likely been working a lot harder to make time for you despite the nature of their work. And that fact alone, has been enough for your cheeks to flame. His efforts have been enough for you for some time now. Unbeknownst to his better judgement.

“It's fine..just make it up to me another time.” You had spoken softly. Wrapping your arms around his neck. And he in turn hugged you just as tightly back.

“I will. I promise you I will, sweetheart.” He spoke. Leaning back in to capture your lips despite the slight fatigue the suit has done to his body. The heaviness didn't matter much to him anymore. And damn the suit if he had to beat into submission on a later date. Number 10 may have had a grip on him this time, but next time around he won't be the one dictating his desires.

He'd do it himself. Properly and in a much better setting, where he wouldn't be panting like a puppy in heat.

His breathlessness had been a rare sight indeed. But Oxygen was all he needed to kiss you breathless too.

[fuji-sen]

the 'evil imposter' just wants to be a baker!

Prologue: The Foodie turned Imposter?!

Part 1: Sunsettias.

[ masterlist ] || [ part 2 ]

🥖🍞🥐🥨🥪🥯🥖🍞🥐🥨🥪🥯🥖🍞🥐🥨🥪🥯🥖🍞🥐🥨🥪🥯

⌞Forest of Color: ⌝

⌞A salad made from fresh fruit and vegetables. Blanch the Grainfruit, chop the other ingredients, drizzle over the sauce, then stir until evenly mixed. Extremely simple to make, but even more importantly, it's so healthy that no matter how much you eat, you won't feel stressed!⌝

You stared at the in-game meal right in front of you, it was a late friday night and you were wasting the hours away curiously reading and looking through the official page that contained all of the food and drinks that could be found in your comfort game, Genshin Impact.

As a student in the culinary course and a rather enthusiastic foodie, one of the factors you always looked for when playing or finding a certain game or watching a particular show was their cuisine!

Just staring at the delicious looking, not-real, food always got your appetite running. Part of your little hobby was trying to even recreate certain dishes like those foodtubers did in youtube! Right now while mentally eating the pixelated dish in your mind, you were also picking the next food you'd try to recreate.

'Perhaps I should pick from star rail, none of the food here has picked my fancy. .' you thought to yourself while leaning back on your chair and making a point to stroke your chin with a thoughtful expression. 'Ah! how about the Mondstadt hash browns, I could even try to make Razor's variant dish!'

Snapping your fingers you immediately went to the kitchens, mentally patting yourself on the back for going grocery shopping the day before. So like usual, in the comfort of your own apartment, you began to cook, then eat and clean up, before retiring to your bedroom, dozing off with a full stomach and a lazy smile.

Z z z. . .

"Huh?" You swat at your face before sneezing, immediately standing up as you felt something tickling your face, what fell from your face and onto your lap was a pristine white feather.

Immediately standing up, finding yourself out of bed, no, out of your own room and seemingly not even in your fucking city as you started at the environment before you. Lush, verdant grass that swayed with the winds. Birds chirping as they flew high and above your form, some scattering the same feathers that made you sneeze.

A wave of fear and confusion washed over you, you were afraid as you began to realize this wasn't a dream when you ran, and ran, and tripped. Part of your pajama pants had been ruined and vaguely you can feel the blood dripped down on your leg from your fresh injury.

Wincing you stand up, not bothering to look as it as you cried out, wondering, where the hell were you?

. . .

It probably took you a few hours to get your bearings, sitting by a tree as you hugged your knees and contemplated your existence, did you screw with some God or Rich Asshole and they decided to kidnap you and dump you in the middle of nowhere as revenge?

Nah, you were antisocial, so screwing with some rich guy was highly unlike with your lack of a social life. You bit your nails, was it God? "At least give me a sign of where I am!" you shout frustrated as you pulled at your locks.

"Ouch!" Wincing, you rubbed the top part of your head as something fell on it, the perpetrator was round, yellow and orange in color. Your eyes widened, silently grabbing it as you ignored the now dulling pain in your head. .

It was plump, fragrant. .

you bit it.

It tasted sweet.

you ignored the juice that dribbled down you chin as you nodded, yes, this was how you imagined Sunsettia's would taste like base on it's description.

you blinked, jaw dropping.

Sunsettias. .

fuck you were in Teyvat, basically Genshin Impact.

A part of you felt like you were screwed, considering how all of your worldly possessions were gone, and you were here in nothing but your pockets. One hand went to pat the pockets of your pajamas. .

Eyes lighting up as you felt something, pulling that item out, you were speechless as your hand simply held an old expired coupon for some ramen. . .

screwed it is then.

🥖🍞🥐🥨🥪🥯🥖🍞🥐🥨🥪🥯🥖🍞🥐🥨🥪🥯🥖🍞🥐🥨🥪🥯

I need to find a banner to use for the series, also also although I put in Baker, the reader will also make dishes, both from in-game and in real lifeee so if you want a particular dish featured in a future chapter, add the recommended dish in my ASKS so it can be a surprise for other readers! Please also add information about that dish since I may most likely not be familiar with themm

[roseghoul26]

König x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After a long day, König offers some much-needed “stress relief”. Tags: Title From A Sabrina Carpenter Song, Bed Chem - Sabrina Carpenter, Edging, Not Beta Read, Fem Pronouns For Reader, Bit Of A Size Kink, Porn No Plot, Vibrators, Fingering, Cunnilingus, König Lifts His Mask The Tiniest Amount To Eat You Out, Scar Kink(?), Is That Even A Thing, Doggystyle, Safe Sex, German Is A Fun Language, Kissing, Cuddling Author's Note: My four-and-a-half years of German classes are finally coming into use (but I’m nowhere near fluent, so correct my mistakes lol). Also contains descriptions of what I imagine König to look like. Everyone is free to their own interpretation. Also I'm like a year too late for this but whatever lol and this one is just pure porn guys, so... do with that what you will Explicit content, minors DNI

You felt ridiculous. 

Desperate. Anxious. Ridiculous.

Pacing across your small room didn’t help, your frenzied state unending. Anxiety hammered your heart, your stomach twisted in knots, and your hands ached from tensing them so much. Your breathing wasn’t much better, coming and going in quick huffs of air; you felt like you were going to pass out. 

You were a goddamn soldier, a ruthless mercenary; you shouldn’t be acting this way. You’d faced down the worst of humanity and came out victorious; the idea of König coming to your room shouldn’t render you so… timid. 

You’re not sure why you took König up on his offer for “stress relief”. He’d seen how tense you were all day around the base, the reason for that feeling long since forgotten, your words clipped, muscles tensed. It wasn’t an unusual emotion for you, but he’d never offered his assistance. 

Until today. You weren’t quite sure what changed.

A shiver went down your spine when you remembered his voice as he whispered, large frame pressed up close against yours, but not close enough to touch. “Let me help you, Schatz,” he’d said, and you were certain if you could see his face, there’d be a smirk on his lips. You wondered if he knew how you felt about him. 

Desperate to be rid of the tension in your body, and desperate for him, you’d agreed. It wasn’t until you’d reached your room that it sunk in, what you’d agreed to. It wasn’t that you regretted it, far from it, but now your stress levels were even higher than they were before. 

You wouldn’t lie and say that you hadn’t hoped that something like this would happen. You’d had the biggest crush, which sounded so juvenile for someone like you, on him since the moment you’d signed on with KorTac a few years ago. 

And how could you not? He was tall, almost intimidatingly so, with a broad build to match. And the muscles weren’t all for show, just as deadly with his body as he was with his weapons out on the field. You remember the first time you’d watched him take down someone with his hands, a memory that had ingrained itself into your dirtiest dreams. 

As for the rest of his appearance, you weren’t quite sure. He’d never taken off his “mask” (a shirt, you’d later come to find out) in front of you, even when on jobs together. You never pried, though, respecting his need for privacy. And besides, you didn’t have to see his face to know that he was the most stunning person you’d ever met. His eyes, baby blue, yet torturously haunted, were all that you needed to see to confirm that. After years of only seeing them, you’d gotten good at reading them like you would facial expressions. 

Too caught up in your thoughts, you nearly tripped as your foot caught on the edge of your bed, a small, dingy thing. A mix of a sigh and groan left you, as well as a soft curse as you shook your hurt foot. Glancing at the small LED clock beside your bed, the time read 9:26.

König hadn’t given you a time when you asked, only a teasing, “Tonight.” Which meant, that at any moment, you’d hear him knocking on your door.

Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe this was all a joke, a cruel one at that. Maybe he knew about your infatuation with him, and this was his response. Deep down, you knew König enough to know that he wouldn’t do something like that, but your anxiety-riddled brain couldn’t think rationally right now. 

Before disappointment could set in, there was a surprisingly gentle knock on the door. But to you, it sounded like two gunshots had just gone off in the room, your ears now ringing in response. 

A soft gasp left you, and you swore your heart stopped. Taking a second to take a deep breath, you fixed your hair as you walked to the door, suddenly worried about your appearance. Your hand shook as you grabbed the handle, time seemingly slowing as you opened the door.

There, just like he said he would be, was König, his body damn near filling the entire doorframe, the tiniest bits of light from the hallway sneaking in. He was dressed down, which made sense for the time of day, so it shouldn’t have come as such a shock to you to see his bare arms. He must’ve been feeling particularly cruel, to be wearing a tight, black short-sleeve shirt instead of his usual loose long-sleeves. His hands were shoved into the pockets of some black sweatpants, and it almost felt wrong to see him like this. 

And as his eyes widened the tiniest amount, you realized that he, too, had never seen you in loungewear. Wearing a tank top and some sleep shorts, you might as well have been naked with the way his gaze roamed over your body, setting your body alight. A part of you wondered if this was the first time he’d looked at you like this, or if your attraction hadn’t been as one-sided as you believed. 

You weren’t quite sure what to say; you both knew why he was here. So instead of making a fool of yourself by attempting to talk, you took a step back, wordlessly inviting König into your room. 

As he stepped in, you watched as his head moved around, taking in his surroundings. Your room wasn’t much, but it was a step up from the shared room you had when you first joined. There was a bed, a full size at most, the headboard pressed up against the wall, with standard-issue grey sheets. A nightstand sat beside it, with the LED clock, and a lamp that currently struggled to fight against the darkness of the night as it poured through the lame excuse of a window that resided at the top of the wall. A few other pieces of furniture, a dresser, a desk, and a shelf, were each in their respective spots, leaving not a lot of free room.

So, as König walked in, your room felt incredibly small, nearly suffocating. It didn’t help that every time you saw König your breathing turned labored, which wasn’t the best thing to happen to you out on the field. But your years of suppressing your desires had trained you well, able to put on an impression that you were unaffected. 

“Do you want this?”

You’d barely heard König, your heart thudding too loudly. He had turned to face you, hands still in his pockets, a casual stance. But his eyes told a different story, hooded with lust, and boring into you. 

Swallowing, you failed to notice the way his eyes zeroed in on the action. Nodding your head was the only thing you could do, never feeling so certain bout something in your life. But you were nervous. What if you disappointed him? What if this wrecked what relationship the two of you had? What if this was all still a joke?

You hadn't expected König to have moved so that he was right in front of you. Was he always this tall? Towering over you, you felt his fingers, free from their usual gloves, grasp your chin, forcing your eyes onto him. A strangled noise died in your throat at the action, but he felt it, and you watched his eyes crinkle in the corners. He was grinning. 

“Use your words, Schatz.” The endearment, although in a foreign language, made you melt. You weren’t entirely sure what it meant, even after hearing it before, but he said it so sweetly that you didn’t need to know what it meant to feel its effects. 

Your heart was fluttering now, your brain fighting between feeling anxious and exhilarated. König must’ve detected this inner battle of yours, something softening in his gaze. The hand holding your chin moved to your wrist, grabbing it loosely enough so that you could pull away if you wanted to, and he slowly pulled your hand up until it rested on his chest, palm flat against his left pec. 

Once the shock of touching him subsided, you were confused as he watched you expectantly. You went to try to speak but were subsequently silenced by König as he shook his head, pressing your hand down harder. It was then you could finally feel beneath your fingertips his heartbeat, much too fast for the casual stance he had earlier. 

He was just as nervous about this as you were.

He let go of your wrist once he saw you felt it, but you didn’t pull your hand away, quickly gaining confidence knowing you weren’t alone in your nerves. “I want this, König.” You were pleasantly surprised to find that your voice was steady, not even the tiniest bit hoarse. I’ve wanted this for a long time.

Pleased, you could also detect the tiniest bit of relief from him, uncertainty playing a part in his nervous behavior. But that was quickly washed away when his authoritative demeanor returned; you’re not sure why you expected anything else. In every room he walked into, he demanded respect, to be listened to. Followed. Obeyed. You just never thought that it carried into more intimate moments. 

You certainly weren’t complaining. Not when you could feel arousal pool in your gut, a pleasant warmth that flowed through your entire body. Not when every word he spoke made you shiver, his accent thick, voice pitched lower. And now that your nerves had died down, all that was left was excitement, which nearly made you just as jumpy. As he brought his masked face close to yours, you swore your breathing stopped; it almost felt like the anticipation you’d feel before a kiss.

But his destination wasn’t your lips, although his eyes did flick down to them momentarily. No, he stopped before they could connect, mask and all. Resting his head against yours, which took a bit of bending on his part, you felt two warm hands begin to trail down your body, starting right at your collarbones. 

You watched as his eyes trailed over your face, gauging your reaction. When he was met with nothing but desire and want, his touch grew more certain, yet he didn’t pick up the pace. His fingers continued to drag down your body until you wanted to push them down to where you wanted. Something told you that that wouldn’t go over well, but you had to admit you were curious to see what his reaction would be. 

You chose to just shift in his grasp instead of trying to force his touch lower, hoping he’d get the message. You knew he did when you heard him chuckle, a sound that always made you weak in the knees, now especially. “Patience.” 

You could detect the warning well enough, but you couldn’t bring yourself to listen to it. “Please, König.” You didn’t care if you were begging. All you could think about was how close he was to giving you what you wanted. 

Another chuckle left the Austrian, but this one sounded more cruel. “You are going to have a long night.”

Before you could even think about his words, he was effortlessly sweeping you off your feet, hands having found their way to the back of your thighs. Insticinvly, your legs wrapped around his body, but you knew he didn’t need the extra help, and you also knew that he wouldn’t drop you. With a surprised laugh, you hung on as König carried you over to the bed, eyes never once leaving your face like he was enraptured by it. 

Unfortunately, the walk to the bed was brief, and before you could get comfortable in his arms, he was depositing you onto the bed. So much for not dropping you. It didn’t hurt, no, more surprising than anything, the breath briefly getting knocked out of you. The cheaper bed groaned under the weight, rusty springs a godawful symphony of noises, but you paid them no mind. 

Hungry eyes watched you from the foot of the bed as you moved up towards the headboard, back resting against it. Once you were settled, König stalked over to the side of the bed, his movements nothing but predatory. Yet oddly enough, you felt safe. You both trusted each other enough to watch over the other while out on the field and so you felt that same trust here. Deep down, you knew that if you were to tell him to stop, he would, no questions asked. Yet you knew you probably wouldn’t need him to. 

But he didn’t sit down, rather moving to the nightstand beside you. Your dazed state quickly dissipated once he started rummaging inside of it, but you were too late to do anything. With burning cheeks, you watched as he pulled out a pink device, which looked comically small in his hands. 

You wanted nothing more than to bury your face in your hands and pray for your demise, yet you were stuck in place once his attention returned to you. You just knew he had a shit-eating grin on his face, and if you weren’t so mortified about him finding the toy, then you would’ve made some comment to wipe it right off. 

Finally, König sat beside you, the vibrator still in his hand. With his other, you felt his touch return to your calf, featherlight, and leisurely making its way to the waistband of your shorts. “You use this a lot?”

“König…” Your voice wasn’t as assertive as you’d have liked, coming out more as a breathy whine. 

“Answer my question.” His hand stopped moving, stopping right at your knee. No matter how you shifted or squirmed, he didn’t move.

With a deep sigh, you tried to ignore the embarrassment you felt when you nodded your head. You then remembered his words from earlier. “Yes,” was all you said, but that seemed to be enough for him, as he continued his ascent with his fingers.

But his tormenting wasn’t done there, as after a few seconds you heard him speak again. “What do you think about?” This question came quieter than the first like he was sharing a piece of gossip, not asking you to reveal your deepest fantasies. 

You. 

The word was on the tip of your tongue, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to say them, to admit to him. How you’d dreamed of moments like this. How you’d imagined him touching you, fucking you, devouring you. So much information was on the verge of being spilled, and you were scared of it happening, too many what-ifs floating in your brain to keep track. 

But any attempt of holding back your words disappeared when König’s hand retracted, and you found the words stuttering out of you, desperate to feel him again. “I think about you, König…” You nearly felt out of breath after, your chest heaving for air, your cheeks now on fire. 

König, much to your surprise, didn’t seem taken aback by your words. Instead, you watched as his eyes darkened even more, which seemed like an impossible feat. “I thought as much,” his voice sounded more like a growl, and you fought the urge to press your thighs together. “And what do I do, when you think of me?”

Now that the cat was out of the bag, you felt less embarrassed about speaking. You were further encouraged when his hand settled on your thigh, pulling lightly at the hem of your shorts. “I… I’ve thought of you using toys,” you glanced at his other hand briefly, “your fingers. Your mouth.” The last one came out more like a whisper; he’d have to take his mask off in order for the last one to be true, and you both knew he wasn’t doing that. 

By the time you had finished speaking, he had reached your waistband, fingers dipping beneath it to brush against your skin. He hummed like he was truly thinking deeply over your words. “In that order?” If it was meant to be teasing, you couldn’t tell. 

Words died in your throat as you struggled to speak, your newfound confidence nonexistent. König, thankfully, took some pity on you, realizing that this was all a bit much. “Would you like me to take care of you?”

That you were able to respond to. “Please.”

An appreciative groan reverberated through his broad chest. “Sehr gut.” You weren’t certain what he was saying, but the infliction sounded like a praise, and your body responded as it would if it had been spoken in a language you knew.

You expected him to continue speaking, so imagine your surprise when in one strong tug, he tore your shorts off your body, before throwing them somewhere in the room. You heard an audible gasp from him when he saw you were completely bare underneath, completely exposed to him. You watched his hands flex from where they hung in the air, momentarily taken aback, his restraint pulled tight. 

He recovered quickly, blue eyes obscured by black irises now staring at you. “No underwear?” It was a redundant question, yet he asked anyway, wanting you to admit to it. Sheepishly, you nodded, your reward being a low chuckle. “Gott, you are trying to kill me.”

That was the last thing he said before he was settling at the end of your bed, right where your feet sat. His unoccupied hand grabbed your ankle, pulling your legs apart so that he could settle between them. With both thighs resting on his shoulders, you could no longer close your legs, unless you wanted to suffocate the man between them. You doubt he would complain, though. 

His face was inches from your center, and you could feel the heat radiating from him with each breath he took. His eyes had left your face, now drinking in the sight before him, and you could tell he was pleased with what he saw. Quite pleased, if the groan he let out told you anything. 

“So wet already,” he murmured as if he was surprised. You had little time to feel any sort of embarrassment, before two wide fingers ran through your folds, collecting the arousal there. You watched, then, as he brought his fingers below his mask, and you were able to fill in the details as his eyes fell shut with a hum of appreciation. 

Very much distracted, you’d momentarily forgotten about the device in his other hand until the unmistakable buzzing noise filled the air. Your breathing was labored as you waited for his next move, where he would touch you next. You, luckily, did not have to wait long to find out, as those two fingers returned, this time working to spread you open. His eyes finally shot up to yours, his desire evident, and there was an unspoken question in the gesture. More?

You would take all that he could give you, greedily. If he gave you scraps, you would take scraps with a thankful smile. If he gave you a goddamn meal, then you would savor every moment, every drop. With a shaky smile, you gave him a nod, not needing to use your words this time. 

The first graze of the toy over your clit made you jump, eliciting an amused shake of König’s head. “Relax, Schatz.”

And you tried. Taking a deep breath, you went through the breathing exercises you were taught when you first enlisted. Either it was thinking about the breathing exercises, or the exercises themselves, but you found yourself relaxing a bit, your muscles not as wound up as they once were. 

So when König once again pressed the vibrator against the bundle of nerves, you still jolted. Not out of shock, but because of the pleasure that action brought. And instead of pulling away like last time, he kept his hand in place, making you squirm. 

Soft whines and gasps of air were heard from you, hands fisting the sheets beside you. You wanted to hold on to him, but you were worried that once you grabbed on, you wouldn’t want to let go. “König…” you moaned, trying to express just how good he was making you feel. Every nerve in your body tingled, that unmistakable tightness growing in your abdomen. You weren’t close, but you didn’t think it would take long with how worked up you’d been waiting for him. 

The hand holding you open ascended, your back arching into his touch as he dragged his fingers over your stomach, your ribs, before encapsulating one of your breasts in a large, warm hand. “Du bist so schön,” he murmured, a glint of something in his eye. It quickly turned mischievous, though, when you just nodded along, his words meaning nothing to you. “Du hast keine Idee, was ich sage.”

When you neither confirmed nor denied his observation, he laughed, much to your confusion, but you were too caught up in your pleasure to care much. “Oh, Schatz.” It almost sounded patronizing, something that shouldn’t have gotten you as worked up as it did. Another plea of his name tore from your lips, the pressure in you building and building. 

Glancing down between your legs, you were surprised to find his eyes already on you. A squeeze of his hand had you keening, König making a noise that almost seemed proud. “So responsive. Nur für mich.”

What could you do besides nod? Even if you could understand him, you doubted you’d be able to process his words. And besides, hearing him speak his native tongue was always a treat, so hearing him like this was melting you, another thing setting your body alight. Your thighs were beginning to shake, something that did not go unnoticed by the man between them. 

“König… fuck, just a lil’ more…” You failed to see the plan he was formulating, your eyes screwed shut as pleasure overtook you. That tension was becoming unbearable now, and just on the verge of snapping. Your hips rocked and twisted, your fingers cramping with how hard you were gripping the sheets. You were on the edge, just teetering. All you needed was a little push, and-

The sound of silence was deafening as König turned the toy off, setting it on the bed beside you. Your eyes flew open, nowhere near expecting him to pull away just as you were about to cum. It would’ve been embarrassing, the frustrated noise you let out, but all you could think and feel was your waning orgasm. You went to try and finish yourself, but a strong hand caught your wrist before you could move. 

“König…” you warned, pleaded. Like sand, you could feel your release escaping through your fingers. “Y-You said you would help me relax.”

“You are distracted, nein?” 

It was true, your mind was far from the stresses of the day. But a new stress was building, one that was being caused by him. “König-”

“Lay back down.”

You hadn’t even realized you’d sat up, and with a sigh, you sunk back against the pillows, hoping he didn’t see the way your cheeks darkened at the way he commanded you. You could feel yourself continue to come down from that delicious high, body still strung tight like a string on a violin. König played you so well, that you doubted it would take long for you to reach that precipice again. But would he give you what you wanted, or continue to dangle it above your head, just out of reach? You both loved and hated the game he was playing, but your patience was bound to run out eventually. 

He settled in between your legs again, both hands empty this time. A few minutes passed, König lazily tracing his fingers across your bare legs and stomach, truly letting the embers of your previous orgasm burn out.

After what felt like an eternity, he began to drag his touch inward, making you gasp lightly. Like he did before, you felt him pass his fingers through you. The stimulation was almost too much, but it was the best thing you’d ever felt, a soft whine leaving you. That whine turned into a moan when he pressed a digit into you, aided by your arousal. 

He wasted no time in working his finger in and out of you, setting a slow yet intense pace. Your previous decision to not hold on to him quickly fell apart, desperately reaching down to him. There was a second of surprise before he gave you his other hand, your fingers immediately locking with his. It was a startling difference, the innocent gesture of handholding versus the way he was making you see stars with every crook of his fingers. 

His fingers were wide, much wider than yours, so the stretch burned when he added a second. He gave you a moment to adjust before moving, murmuring soft words of praise. “Gutes Mädchen,” he purred. “Gott, look at you, taking me so well.” Each word was enunciated with a thrust of his fingers, pulling noises from you you didn’t even know were possible. 

As amazing as his fingers felt, you need more. Wanted more. Glancing down at König, you gave him as wide eyes as you could, and he seemed to get the message. “You want more?” Upon your fervent nodding, he shook his head teasingly. “So greedy.”

For a moment, you were convinced that he wasn’t going to fulfill your request. That was until he pulled his hand away from yours, reaching for the base of his mask. Your heart damn near stopped when you realized what he was doing, and with a shocked gasp, you shut your eyes, unsure if he wanted you to see. 

You felt him pause, the rustling of fabric ceasing, before his voice rang out. “Look at me.” For the first time since you’d met him, you’d heard his voice clearly, not muffled by his mask. 

Cautiously, you opened your eyes, still partially convinced that this was a test of sorts. All of those worries disappeared when your eyes landed on him. His mask wasn’t fully off, not like you expected, and a part of you was relieved. You don’t think you were ready for that. 

Instead, it was pulled up just past his mouth, revealing most of his lower face, and any image you’d created of him in your mind was immediately forgotten, replaced with the sight in front of you. He had a wider jaw, with a decent amount of stubble adorning his cheeks. His lips were full, the top smaller than the bottom, and pulled into a small smile that made your stomach erupt into butterflies. He was, without a doubt, one of the most handsome men you’d ever laid eyes on, and this was only a part of his face.

But what stuck out to you the most, and would stick out to anyone who saw him, was the large scar that cut upwards on the right side of his upper lip, disappearing under the mask as it continued. The rest of the skin had healed together, except for on his lip, where, similar to a cleft lip but smaller, there was a gap, exposing a sharp canine. It was like his lip was turned up in a constant sneer.

You had no idea how he got that scar, and knowing the job you both did, it was probably quite traumatic. But the scar, alongside the rest of him, had desire churning so strongly in your gut that you nearly felt ill. It felt almost too good to be true, yet here he was, in between your legs, staring at you like you were the best thing on this forsaken planet, his hips grinding against the bed as he pleasured you. 

“Hallo, Schatz.” You were entranced by the way his lips moved as he spoke, and he noticed it, a cocky grin now on display. God, the effect that smirk had on you was immediate, his smugness immeasurable when he felt your body react on his fingers. “You know how to make a man feel good.”

You managed to roll your eyes, not wanting to bolster his ego that much, making König laugh in response. But his playful mood was quickly replaced by one of pure desire, moving forward until you could feel his warm breath hit your center. His fingers had resumed their motions, that tension once again building in your abdomen. It felt stronger this time like your body was punishing you for not allowing the tension to release last time. 

Not once did his eyes break away from yours, not even as his tongue flicked out to taste you, and you could feel his smile, never once dropping. He did it again, this time nudging your over-sensitive clit, making your hips buck. Letting his mask fall on your body to keep it held up, his now free hand splayed across your lower abdomen, keeping you in place, unable to escape the onslaught of pleasure. 

Even quicker than before, you found yourself careening toward that edge, your nails digging into König’s arm, likely leaving marks. His name replayed like a chant on your lips with each crook of his fingers, each flick of his tongue, every suck from his lips. You couldn’t see him any longer, your head thrown back against the pillows.

“König… please.” You almost didn’t want to tell him you were close, afraid of him taking your release away from you again. But you figured he didn’t need you to tell him to know, with the way your thighs shook and walls fluttered around his fingers. You felt him smirk again, a sense of dread washing over you at its implication. “Please, König… let me cum.”

Forcing your head back down, you watched as he considered your plea, and for a second, you thought you were in the clear. That was until he pulled his mouth away, his lower face glistening, that smirk still there, before the mask fell back down. His fingers pulled away next, groaning when he watched you clench around nothing.

Frustrated was nowhere close to how you felt, tears now prickling your eyes as yet another orgasm was withheld. The torture was delicious, yes, but you were going to lose it if you didn’t get to cum soon. You’d wanted this for so long, to fall apart under his ministrations, and you were tired of waiting. Your voice wavered as you whined his name, but there wasn’t anything either of you could do now, as you felt that almost high fade away again. 

With a defeated sigh, you let your head hit the pillows again, your legs sliding off König’s shoulders. You didn’t get to relax long, though, before his accented voice hit your ears again, unfortunately muffled. “Roll over.”

Without trying to hide your displeasure, you complied, glaring at him as you turned. You hoped he couldn’t tell how excited you actually were, fighting back an eager smile. He chuckled from behind you as you settled on your hands and knees, trailing off when he took in the sight before him. “I will ignore that attitude. This time.”

As you thought over the implications of this time, you felt König stand, followed by the sound of rustling fabric, as well as the crinkle of plastic. Something stirred in you at the fact that he came prepared, meaning he wanted this as much as you did. You’re not sure why you still believed he didn’t, but the reassurance was nice, to say the least. 

Glancing over your shoulder, you managed to catch a glimpse of him, the sight making you nearly snap your head back around. Nearly. He had shed his pants, his black shirt rising enough to reveal a pale, muscular abdomen, created from years of intense labor and exercise. He radiated power, and a part of you wondered if that translated into more intimate aspects like his authoritativeness had. Would he be rough with you? Or would he be more ginger, like his touch had been for most of the night; not gentle, but not on the verge of hurting?

You would take either way, as long as it was him doing it. 

“It is rude to stare.”

His tone was teasing, yet it still pulled you out of your shameless ogling. Caught red-handed, an almost sheepish smile appeared on your face. “You can’t blame me when you look like that. You’re a sight, König.”

For the first time that night, König seemed at a loss for words, staring at you like you’d grown a second head. If his mask was still pulled up, you figured you would see his lips struggling to form words, and, if you were lucky, a blush creeping up his face. It was a beautiful image in your mind, one that made you smile harder. 

Clearing his throat, König shook himself out of whatever daze he had been in, and you pocketed his weakness away for later. Checking you for any last-second hesitations, he let the rest of the clothing on his lower body fall away, effectively shifting the power back into his hands. And despite yourself, a small noise left you at the sight, further stroking his already massive ego. 

As to be expected for someone of his size, he was large, and painfully hard, if the hiss he let out told you anything. He was proportional to his hand as he took himself in it, stroking himself a few times, but you knew you’d struggle to hold him in yours. Just like the rest of his body, he was pale, with an almost purple tip that leaked precum. 

Turning your head back around before you lost your nerve, a few seconds passed before you felt the bed creak again, assumedly to put on the condom. One hand pressed between your shoulders, wordlessly pressing your face and chest into the bed. His other hand grabbed your hip, pulling your ass against him, another small noise leaving you when his cock pressed into you. You let him maneuver you as he wished, surprised with how much you were enjoying him taking the lead during this. 

“Ready?” His voice sounded relaxed, but the fingers digging into your hips told a different story. Still, the sincerity of his gesture made your heart thrum happily.

“Yes.” You’d never been more ready for something. 

A strangled moan tore from your lips as he pressed in, obscured by the mattresses your face was currently being pressed into. Tangling your fingers into the sheets around you, you could do nothing but take him as he sheathed his length into you, inch by inch. Time seemed to slow, your breathing ragged, when it wasn’t interrupted by noises of pleasure. 

The pain wasn’t as bad as you initially thought it would be, and for a moment you were thankful that König had worked you up so much. But that tension returned again, König still not fully in you yet. A whimper of his name had him stilling, an almost painful-sounding breath leaving him as he steadied himself, using every ounce of restraint to keep going slowly. 

The words tumbled out of you then, unable to stop yourself. “I-I can take it… please.”

“Scheiße.” The expletive was not unknown to you, nearly turning smug with the fact you made him lose control again. And just like before, he was quick to put you in your place, any comment dying on your lips when he bottomed out with a sharp thrust of his hips.

You swore you saw stars, unable to make any noise besides a soft oh. König, trusting that you were telling the truth, didn’t wait to give you time to adjust. He set a brutal pace immediately, hips snapping against yours with a slick noise. You could cum just from this alone, still so worked up, and König knew this.

The hands on your body shifted, wrapping around the front of your body and lifting you effortlessly until your back was pressed against his chest. He wasted no time tearing off your shirt, groping and toying with your breasts as he continued to thrust up into you. His voice was like gravel as he spoke, his covered mouth speaking right in your ear. “Du fühlst- Gott, mein Schatz.”

Even though your brain was hazed with lust, there was one thing that stuck out to you when he spoke. Never before had he added the word “mein” before calling you Schatz. You had no idea what it meant, but it certainly sounded like an English word you’d been dying to hear from his lips. Mine.

“Yours?” You knew you were probably connecting dots that didn’t exist, but the idea of being König’s was too appealing. 

König stuttered in his movements, an absolutely sinful moan being pulled from him, a sound that nearly pushed you over that edge. “Smart girl,” he spoke while regaining his breath. “Cum for me, mein Mädchen.”

That was all you needed, reaching your release the hardest you’d ever had in your life, the relief you felt immeasurable. Your head threw back to his shoulder, and because your eyes were screwed shut you couldn’t see the way he stared at you with awe. Every muscle tensed and then released, causing you to go slack in his arms, your nerves buzzing with pleasure. 

Your ears rang too loudly to hear him groan your name as he felt you cum, and a few more thrusts of his hips was all it took to reach his own end. The sensation of him spasming inside of you rode out your waves of pleasure until it became too much. König, thankfully, seemed to realize this, and he pulled out of you, then easing your limp body to the bed carefully. 

Completely blissed out, you didn’t feel as König got off the bed, nor know how much time passed before he returned. All you knew was that suddenly the blanket was torn out from under you, before covering your bare body.

Even though every muscle in your body didn’t want to work, you forced yourself to sit upright and watch the large man, who was currently in the process of getting redressed. “You’re not staying?” You didn’t try to hide the obvious disappointment in your words. 

König stilled at that, turning to face you slowly. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Of course.” The words came out so easily, so honestly, that you nearly startled yourself with your honesty. 

Something like relief sagged his broad shoulders, and before long he was back beside your bed. You let him lay down first, as he did take up more space, before settling yourself in the crook of his arm. Well, it was more like you were half lying on top of him to keep from falling off the bed, but neither of you were complaining. König certainly wasn’t, his eyes crinkling in a poorly concealed smile. 

A few moments passed in silence, simply savoring the afterglow and the feeling of being in each other’s arms. Then, “Are you relaxed now?”

You snorted at that, lifting your head to look at him, shaking your head lightly. Fondly. “I suppose I am,” you agreed. “Though I am gonna be sore tomorrow for… other reasons.”

It was König’s turn to laugh now, the sound lighter than you expected. “I hope you are not expecting me to apologize. You were the one who asked for it.” You merely shrugged your shoulders in response, knowing he was right, but not wanting to give him the satisfaction of verbally admitting it. 

Every part of your body wanted to lay back down, but you had a different idea as you continued to observe König. He tracked every movement of your eyes, and you could see his brow furrow in confusion. Before he could say anything, though, you were speaking, so quietly you wondered if you had merely thought the words.

“Can I kiss you?”

And for the second time that night, König was at a loss, blinking at you like a deer in the headlights. But it seemed he’d already made up his mind, nodding lightly, the mask creasing with every movement of his head. 

Letting the blanket fall off you, you were quick to straddle his abdomen, eliciting a gasp from the Austrian. Tentatively, you let your fingers reach for the hem of the mask, scanning his eyes for any hesitations. When you were met with none, you flashed him a gracious smile, before pulling the cloth up right to his nose, not going further than he had before. 

His hands, which had fallen to his side, now ran up your thighs, before settling on your waist. Blue eyes danced across your face and your body, not able to decide which sight he liked better. You were quick to keep his attention on your mouth, though, as you planted one of your hands on his chest and leaned forward.

Taking your other hand, you let it trail up his neck before settling on his lower jaw, his stubble tickling your hand. He shuddered under your touch, lips parting in a soft gasp. Even with everything the two of you had done tonight, this felt the most intimate. 

When you pressed your lips against his, you couldn’t help the smile that tugged yours when he made another audible noise. A part of you wondered how long it had been since he’d been kissed, been touched this softly. If he’d let you, you’d remedy that. Gladly.

You kept the kiss short, but it promised more to come. Setting the mask back down, you pressed one last peck to his covered lips, unable to help yourself, before laying your head on his chest, keeping any comment about his fast heartbeat to yourself. “I hope you know I’ll be getting my revenge,” you said instead, hoping he didn’t realize it was just another way of saying you wanted this again. 

“I am looking forward to it, Schatz.”

Translations:

Schatz - treasure (term of endearment)

Sehr gut - very good

Gott - God

Du bist so schön - you are so beautiful

Du hast keine Idee, was ich sage - you have no idea what I am saying

Nur für mich - only for me

Nein - no

Gutes Mädchen - good girl

Scheiße - shit, fuck

Du fühlst- Gott, mein Schatz - you feel- God, my treasure

Mein Mädchen - my girl

[scififettuccine]

A Wild Fix: Part 2

Pairing: Frenchie x Reader

Summary: The day of the dreaded Supe Convention is finally here. After being paired with Frenchie for your part of the mission, you run into some unexpected conspiracies with some unexpected people.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Homelander, mentions of suicide, mentions of suffocation, Supes being Supes, not proofread (they never are)

Notes: Omg guys look at me being fancy and trendy and cool with the photo header >:)....(Please don't make fun of me I'm a writer not an editor, I tried my best okay?) Anyway here's part 2! Finally posting it after a lot of deliberation, but I hope it was worth the wait! Lots of description in this one, I'm proud of myself 💪 Here's Part 1.5 if you missed it. Big plans for part three, enjoy <3

The day of the Supe convention approached fairly quickly. You would be lying if you said that you hadn't been losing sleep over it. The whole situation was sort of a tightrope walk. If you went to the convention with The Boys, it was bound to end badly. Like you had mentioned to Butcher, it was a suicide mission. But if you told Butcher no, there was a possibility of losing the group as a whole. For better or for worse, they had been the only people in your corner since you joined The Seven…the only thing keeping you stable. As much as you hated that basement…it had become more of a home to you than the tower, even with Frenchie’s irritating presence. You had lost a lot of things in life. A lot of important things. You knew, even if you didn't want to admit it, that you were not stable enough to lose anything else. The outcome of the convention, at least in your mind, would be grim regardless of whether you worried or not. But you couldn't risk losing them, not when they were the only thing close to family that you’d had since…well since you could remember. Calling them family seemed stupid, as you’d only known them for about a month and a half. But truthfully? You didn't know what else to call them. No word seemed good enough.

Butcher had informed Annie of the plan, and the three of you had gotten together to discuss how dangerous the whole ordeal was. Butcher, of course, didn’t care. So, like clockwork, when the day arrived, everyone was informed of the base plan, and ready to go. You and Annie had shuttled into the casino turned convention center with the rest of The Seven, as was planned. The ride was tense and awkward, as it usually was when all of you were together. No one except for you and Annie were really friends, but of course Homelander tried to make it seem like you were. Unfortunately, you got the privilege of sitting across from him on the way there. He tried to create conversation, and you played into it, scared of what would happen if you didn’t. You two hadn’t gotten off to a great start, due to the fact that you had talked back, and he had choked the fear of his every movement into you. And ever since Butcher had info dumped about all the things he had done? You were even more careful around him. The conversation was bland small talk, not exactly focused on anything. You were honestly sort of drifting into space until he mentioned something that caught your attention.

“You’re young, right? You like music?” He asked, his sickeningly white smile on full display. You tried your best not to make a face, unsure of where he was going with it.

“I’m 27… and yeah. Yeah, I like music.” You responded, your fingers moving idly to crack your knuckles one by one. Homelander tilted his head ever so slightly before his gaze shot down to your hands. But as quickly as he had looked, he made eye contact with you once again.

“You know that guy, Mixer? He’s performing at the convention. Feisty little thing, I’ve met him on a few occasions. I remember the day he was signed on to the company.” Homelander paused, chuckling. “He was nothing, then. Fresh out of highschool. The kid could barely look me in the eyes…Now he’s dominating the music industry, with shitty pop but…Still dominating. Funny how those things work out, huh?” He asked. You nodded, glancing over at Annie for support. You didn’t have a clue how any of this was relevant, and you honestly didn’t know how to respond. Annie looked back at you and gave an encouraging smile. What a help she is, you thought.

“I met him at this convention a few years ago, right before he joined Residency.” You informed. Homelander audibly scoffed when you mentioned the team.

“Residency? They’re a PR nightmare in the making. It’s such a strange mix of people, too. I never understood where the inspiration came from.” He chuckled.

“Weren't they kinda supposed to mimic Payback to an extent?” You asked, genuinely curious. He waved a dismissive hand.

“Payback was a PR nightmare too. Come on! I mean, one death and the whole team dispands? Where's the strength in that? This is America! Keep fighting until you can't fight anymore. That’s what I always say.” His disgusting, distorted sense of patriotism always made you nauseous. The man was a blatant white supremacist, and saw the country like it was some holy land. The ideals itself weren't the most sickening part…it was the fact that he wholeheartedly believed them., to the point of influencing others to do the same.

“Yeah…Yeah.” You chuckled awkwardly, putting your hand over your heart, and shaking the other fist in the air. “Land of the free.” With that cringeworthy comment, the conversation sort of died off, ironically just in time for you all to head into the convention center. You and Annie had a few things to handle first, but you had already given The Boys their passes, so they could get an early start.

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It was around lunch time when you and Annie met up with the rest of the group. You had decided to grab a bite to eat at one of the restaurants in the casino. Everything was open and being paid for by Vought, which was honestly one of the nicer parts of the convention.

“Oi. Listen up.” Butcher started, cutting through the small talk once he finally finished his food. “I say we split up into groups, yeh? Divide and conquer. There’s an even number of us, which makes it an easy split.” He scanned the group with his eyes. “MM and Annie, you take the arcade floor, all levels.” He pointed to Hughie. “Hughie and meself will take the shopping center…” His eyes fell on you, and he chuckled ever so slightly. You weren't even paying attention, too engrossed in the pasta you were eating. “Oi, marinara face.” He called, trying to get you attention. You instinctively looked up and wiped your face, figuring you were being messy.

“Sorry…” You grumbled.

“You and Frenchie take the theaters. Go sit in on as many presentations as possible, and bring back anything of interest.” You almost groaned when he paired you with Frenchie. There were four other people for fucks sake, and he knew for a fact that you two didn’t get along. You looked over at Frenchie, narrowing your eyes ever so slightly. He didn't look too happy about it, either, rolling his eyes as he pushed his plate away from him. He muttered to himself in French when he stood up. From what you had gathered over hearing it often, it wasn’t the most accurate.

“Right. That settles it. You know your tasks. Meet back here around…” Butcher looks down to his watch. “3:30-4:00 yeh?” Everyone exchanged one last ‘good luck’ before splitting up, leaving you with Frenchie. The two of you stood in awkward silence for a good minute, before you reluctantly broke it. 

“Of course he would task us with sitting through the boring stuff.” You joked weakly, hoping he’d laugh. He did, but it wasn’t genuine, strained too. Neither of you really had a reason to be nice to the other, in all honesty. All you ever did was insult each other. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jackets before speaking. 

“Oui. Let’s get it over with, then?” He asked, finally meeting your gaze. He was glaring daggers at you. That pissed you off. You were trying to be civil, at least long enough to get through the night. But when he looked at you like that? Like he wasn’t even trying? You glared daggers right back at him. The tension between the two was frustrating, partly because you couldn't figure out what type of tension it was.

“Lets.” You responded, your tone unreadable. The sooner this was over, the sooner you could get away from him.

Upon inspection of the schedule that had been sent to you on your phone, the first event happening in the theater on the first floor was a presentation of Vought’s assets, given by one of the higher ups from the company. Not much info would come from that, you figured, but you wouldn't know unless you sat through it. You turned your head in Frenchie’s direction as the two of you walked out of the restaurant and towards the theater.

“The first presentation starts in forty minutes. It's nothing exciting but it wouldn’t hurt to sit in and listen.” As you waited for Frenchie to respond, you realized your inside hand was a little too close to his. You pulled it away ever so slightly and moved to put your hand in your pocket. Frenchie nodded in response, not seeming too interested. You shouldn’t have let that tick you off…but you did.

“Listen dude. If you’re gonna be an asshole all day you can go do something else. I can handle this myself.” You said, your tone sharper than intended. Frenchie scoffed and rolled his eyes, looking over at you.

“I did not say anything!” Frenchie protested. “Did my nodding offend you that much?”

“It was the inflection.” You huffed, rolling your eyes in return.

“Mmm…Oui. The inflection.” He said mockingly. At that point? It was no use fighting with him, so instead of coming up with a witty retort, you looked around the casino. The line outside the door to the theater was already a bit long, and very colorful. Most Supes wore their uniform suits to the convention, so you could pick out almost everyone, at least those who were signed with Vought. Your eyes fell on a few old friends you had gone through the scouting process with, some people you had met at the last convention, and then an extremely familiar color scheme to a certain Supe’s suit that stuck out like a sore thumb. A bright white ensemble that stood out in a sea of colors…one that belonged to the Supe, Laugh Track, one of the Supes you had mentioned to Butcher.

Laugh Track was another member of Residency, one you were not particularly fond of. You had never personally met the guy, but something about him was just…unsettling. He was rather tall, not as tall as Playback, but almost a head above Mixer. Build wise, he was lanky, at least from what you could see. His Supe suit mainly consisted of a white jacket that resembled those worn in asylums on television, almost a straight jacket, but with control of his arms. There was no visible zipper, and the jacket’s collar went all the way up his neck. His mannerisms were always strange, which was sort of on brand for him. His powers were described as “weaponized hysteria.” It was just a fancy way of saying that his contagious laughter made people go absolutely insane, or at least laugh until they turned blue and suffocated. Laugh Track always stood very stiffly, and usually had a very blank expression on his face, his eyes wide and observant. You’d heard him speak in commercials before, and his voice didn't necessarily ease the feeling of dread you felt when you saw him. He had a strange accent, almost British, but not quite. It was very breathy and weirdly persuasive. He wasn’t unattractive by any means. He had neatly kept bleach blonde hair, bright blue eyes, pale skin…Something was just off.

Laugh Track was standing towards the end of the line, eerily still, his hands, which were covered in little bandages, twitching ever so slightly at his sides. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could only assume that they were darting around the room. You looked over at Frenchie, who was coincidentally already looking in your direction, his mouth slightly open, as if he was about to say something. You shook off the strange feeling that filled your chest and gestured to Laugh Track.

“Do you see the way his hands are twitching?” You asked, purposefully going out of your way to not look directly at Frenchie. Why the hell was he already looking at you? Was he staring or something? Frenchie looked over to the Supe, his eyes narrowing.

“Maybe he has a tremor. Rude to judge him for it, non?” You huffed and looked back to Frenchie, a less than amused expression on your face. You went to go say something else, but your ears perked up when you heard a familiar voice.

“Roman! There you are. I was looking all over for you.” The voice belonged to the man who was arguably the talk of the whole convention, Mixer. Frenchie followed your gaze and looked over at him too. Mixer originally had a Supe suit as well, but ever since he got popular and became more of a poster child than a Supe, he sort of just wore the stylish shit he wore on stage. On that particular day, the outfit consisted of a sleeveless black t-shirt with his logo on it, and ripped black cargo pants with a bunch of adornments hanging off of them. You had to admit, he knew how to dress. The shirt showed off his tattooed arms, and was tight enough that you could see the outline of his chest. After the slight shock of Mixer just appearing in front of you, you added his comment to your mental index. He called Laugh Track “Roman.” That must have been his legal name.

“I haven’t moved since the last time you saw me.” Laugh Track responded, his breathy voice mixed with the accent making you slightly nauseous. Mixer laughed and playfully nudged Laugh Track’s shoulder.

“I figured you would have gone to get a drink or something.” Mixer smirked and nudged his knee with a bottle of Dr Pepper. Laugh Track turned his head towards Mixer, which gave you a moment to catch a glimpse of his smile. It was…unsettling. Disturbing, even, he looked almost manic. But Mixer? He just tilted his head, and smiled sweetly back at him.

“I told you that I wasn’t thirsty.” The taller man let out a chuckle that honestly made you want to walk away. It was so unnerving, yet Mixer didn't seem affected at all. You and Frenchie made eye contact for a moment, before looking back to the two Supes. Frenchie looked just as uncomfortable as you.

“I know you did, but this thing is going to be long. And if we intend to get the info that he wants us to get, you can't be running on nothing.”

You played that sentence back in your head for a moment. The info that he wanted them to get? Who was “He”? And why were other people at this convention also digging for information? Especially people like Mixer. He had it made in the shade, what else would he need to know?

“You are being very loud about this. Hush.” Laugh Track said, taking the bottle of soda from Mixer’s hand. Mixer laughed softly and nodded.

“Right, right. My bad.” Before Laugh Track could respond, the doors to the theater opened, and the line started to move. “Remember, seats closest to the under-stage door on the left side of the theater. He said they should be reserved.” Mixer reminded as the two started walking, their shoulders practically glued together.

“Yes. Under-stage door on the left side of the theater, stage right in perspective of the presenter, reserved seats.” Laugh Track responded. You and Frenchie exchanged a look as the Supe’s in front of you had their lanyard passes scanned, and walked into the theater. As your own passes were scanned, Frenchie leaned over to you.

“Let's follow them and try to sit as close as we can get, oui?” He suggested. You nodded. That actually wasn’t a half bad idea.

“Good idea.” You responded. You could have sworn that you saw Frenchie smirk. The two of you kept a safe distance away from Laugh Track and Mixer as you made your way into the theater, but made sure you didn't lose sight of them. The flow of the crowd pushed you and Frenchie closer together, but in the heat of the task, you didn't really notice.

Maybe this presentation wouldn't be so useless after all.

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

Sorta kinda leaving you on a cliff hanger there if ya squint. I really like where this is headed and I'm very excited to start writing part 3. Lemme know what you think! Full disclosure I laughed harder than I should have at the “Land of the free” comment so I hope it made you chuckle. Adieu!

teeny tiny taglist: @llynx7 @stinkysam @xcryptk33p3rx

[totheblood]

true blue. (four)

pairing: modern!ellie williams x reader

summary: ellie has a crisis

warnings: suggestive themes, drug/alcohol usage, cursing, descriptions of abusive behavior (neither ellie or reader engages in these behaviors)

a/n: MORE ELLIE JOURNALING.. this is the final part! i won't be writing any more true blue i apologize i didn't realize how emotionally taxxing this would be for me. also the ai audios are at the bottom! hope u like them THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD - I apologize. I would greatly appreciate any reblogs, comments, asks you have about this chapter. thank you for supporting me through this journey!

read the first three chapters here from the masterlist!

Ellie was on the verge of breaking down.

This pain was becoming all too familiar to her and the weight of it only grew each second she spent with you. Her fingertips had grown numb as she sat across from you in the restaurant as she wrapped them around the base of her glass. If she thought the heartbreak of Cat would take her out, she knew that the heartbreak of you would move her existence to a different plane of existence.

If she was really honest with herself, she didn’t really love Cat, but rather how Cat had made her feel. It was all-consuming, over the top, mushy love. The love you see in movies but never expect to happen to you, but it was all just words when it came down to it. The fact of the matter is, if you tell someone they’re your soulmate ten times a day they will start to believe it. 

It wasn’t oxytocin that Ellie felt around Cat, it was pure adrenaline. She was always looking to reach that high with her again as she pulled away from her, but as the rush died out and Cat continuously degraded Ellie, she found herself accepting less than she deserved or wanted. She wanted Cat to want her again, but Cat never wanted her. Cat never wanted anybody.

But it wasn’t like that with you. For starters, you didn’t tell Ellie you were in love with her on your second date. You didn’t try to convince her that she was made for you. You were just there with your sickly sweet smile and long eyelashes that made Ellie’s heart pound in her chest. You were good.

Or so she thought. 

She couldn’t quite explain why, but Ellie believed Cat. Cat was a manipulator and a bitch, but she wasn’t a liar. Plus, the way her face filled with joy at the chance to tell Ellie that her current fix hated her was too real. The sinister laugh was fucking genuine.

So here Ellie sat across from you at the dinner she had planned to ask you to be her girlfriend at, a sick rage burning in her chest. She didn’t know why she didn’t cancel but she didn’t know why she was doing a lot of things these days.

“Tell me about your day.” You spoke, breaking Ellie out of her trance.

“My day?” She questioned, eyes flicking up to you.

“Yeah, silly. Anything interesting happen?” You asked, the smile on your face stirring something evil in Ellie’s gut. You looked so fucking good today it’s almost if you knew she was planning on asking you out. 

“No.. not really. Ran into my ex actually.” She said simply, playing with the fork in her hand. She studied your face closely and watched as it slightly faltered at the mention of her ex. If she didn’t know you, she might’ve not caught it. 

“Oh, really?” You questioned, sipping your water and toying with the chain around your neck. It was a tell tale sign you were nervous. “You don’t really talk about your ex.” 

“Yeah, she was the worst so I don’t like thinking, or talking, about her all that much.” Ellie knew her tone was coming off harsh, but she didn’t care. The way your demeanor changed told her all she needed to know about you.

“Yeah… that makes sense.” You were obviously uncomfortable with how the air shifted but you were trying to keep the peace. “My day was good, I went to that thing in the Student Center. The therapy dog thing. It was so cute I almost died. Do you want to see a picture of me and the dogs?” 

“Not really.” Ellie replied, leaning back in her chair. The way your face fell would have made her put together heart break.

“D-did I do something?” Your voice was shaking a bit but your gaze remained steady. Ellie needed to leave.

“No, baby, I’m not really having the best day so I’m just going to leave.” Before you could even protest Ellie threw down three twenties, grabbed her jacket, and left. You didn’t chase after her, nor did you call that night, and Ellie knew it was sick of her, but that really bothered her. 

D: idk i don’t think pookiana would do that

E: Pookiana?? Seriously? This isn’t funny, Dina.

D: i know it’s not funny but are you really trusting cat

E: You should have seen her face when I said I ran into Cat. Plus Cat was too happy to tell me. It’s true, D.

D: well u should still talk to her about it, just abandoning her at a date is not cool

D: it’s cat behavior

E: Don’t do that.

E: I need to do something. I need to be out.

D: there’s a house party tomorrow? you could join

E: Will there be girls?

D: ellie what r u doing 

D: don’t do this don’t self destruct

E: Yes or no?

D: there are always girls 

E: I’ll be there.

The following night Ellie found herself taking several hits off her pen for courage. Deep inside she knew she wanted to be with you tonight, wrapped up in your comically large blankets watching a dumb movie or Planet Earth, but she couldn’t do that to herself. 

Plus, you hadn’t contacted her since the date and it was driving Ellie crazy. At this point she had assumed that you knew she caught onto you and had decided a fight wasn’t worth your time. So she decided not to care, an ability that seemed all too new to her.

The party was as fun as you could imagine, skins slick with sweat and the air dry and humid. Ellie was feeling adventurous and, for once in her sorry life, she didn’t stick to the side of the wall for the entirety of the night. She was socializing, laughing, and even dancing. On the outside she appeared happy and carefree.

On the inside, however, Ellie was beginning to panic. She knew escaping the reality of her life would only be a brief relief from the things that plagued her everyday mind, but she didn’t expect the high to die off so quickly. Her mind was telling her, run run run, but her feet stayed planted and her body continued to sway. 

In the dark of the party and the high still hanging over her head, she almost didn’t realize the girl dancing in front of her. She began to grind on Ellie, shaking her hips to the music and causing Ellie’s brain to short circuit. 

It felt wrong, mostly because it wasn’t you. Fuck fuck fuck, her brain rang again as it did many times before, but this time Ellie wasn’t stopping. Not only did she not stop the girl, but her own hands found her waist, holding on as Ellie pulled her in and swayed with the music. Ellie hated to admit it but she was turned on. Her touch-starved and emotionally rotting brain needed skin to skin contact to bring her back down to Earth, she needed to be held by someone. 

Unlike last time, however, she refused to find solace in crying on Dina’s lap again. No, this time she was going to find it in the lips of another. So as she danced she began to press sloppy wet kisses on the girl’s neck, making sure to take her skin in between her teeth. She was trying to elicit a response, any response that would tell her how good she was doing. And when she got that, a moan from the girl in front of her that rumbled across Ellie’s chest, she held her back to her chest and connected her lips to hers. 

It felt good, it felt foreign, and for a brief moment in time Ellie’s mind was completely silent. She wasn’t thinking about the name of the girl she was kissing. She wasn’t thinking about Cat. She wasn’t thinking of you. The only thought that consumed her at this moment was how her tongue was in a random person’s mouth and how amazing it felt. Until, she was being ripped off of the girl and met with your tear-stained face.

“What the fuck are you doing, Ellie?” You cried out, the person Ellie was just intertwined with now slinking off into a corner. The party went on, but others stopped to watch the scene you were beginning to make.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” She spat, anger written all over her face. Her heart was aching in her chest at the sight of you. She wanted to reach out to you, kiss the tears off your face and tell you everything was okay, but she didn’t have it in her to do that.

“It looks like you’re cheating on me.” You fumed, eliciting a gasp from the party goers. Dina pushed past a group of people to find the two of you staring down each other. She frantically ran up in between you and Ellie, grabbing both of your arms before pulling you up the stairs and outside. 

The air outside was cold. Under the streetlights you could see the tip of Ellie’s nose turn red, but what you now noticed was the red rim around her eyes. She had been crying but it was masked by the seemingly unprovoked rage she had for you. 

“I’m not cheating on you because I’m not with you… you are not my girlfriend.” She pointed out, her anger looking more like sadness. 

“I’m not your girlfriend… but I mean something to you, right?” You pleaded, letting your tears fall freely. 

“You meant something to me. Not anymore. I’m not doing this with you. I won’t be able to survive it if it’s you.” Ellie was almost sure she wasn’t making much sense, but her head was pounding and Dina was standing on the porch staring at the two of you with her arms crossed. All Ellie wanted to do was run, but if she ran she had a feeling she would be running from you her whole life.

“What did I do? Just tell me that. I thought we were happy.” You were sobbing, but everytime you took a step towards Ellie, she took a step back.

“Did you know about me before we met?” Ellie asked with a straight face.

“Wha-” You began.

“Did you know who I was before we met? It’s a simple question.” 

“Yes… but-” You were trying to explain yourself but Ellie wasn’t having it. For some reason you confirming her suspicions hurt more than she assumed it would and she was already turning around walking back towards the house. 

“Ellie, stop! Let me explain.” You pleaded, chasing after her hot on her tracks. She whipped around to turn back to you, her speed almost knocking you off your feet.

“No, you don’t get to explain. I trusted you. I liked you. I fell for you for fucks sake. I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend after swearing that I would never let that happen and it was all what? A joke to you? This isn’t fucking funny, this is my life. And you… you made it good for so long and to know that it was all fake? I’m not coming back from this.” Ellie was speaking without thinking at this point.

“You think this is a joke to me? Are you fucking serious? When were you going to mention that we shared an ex? Huh? You want to be mad at me for what? Not liking you 2 years ago when I didn’t know you? When my ex told me she was leaving me for you? This hasn’t been some revenge plot Ellie, it was two years ago. I moved on. Did I think I was going to move on with you? No, but I did and I can’t change that, but you don’t get to treat me like this for not sharing that piece of information with you. You don’t get to reduce my love for you down to that. Down to Cat.” Your tears had stopped flowing but your eyes and face were still puffy. 

“I didn’t tell you about it because I had decided to put it- Wait… you love me?” Ellie stopped herself, not realizing what you had said. 

“What? I never said that.” You argued. 

“You just did. You said, “You don’t get to reduce my love for you down to that.” She said, mocking your voice. 

“I don’t fucking sound like that, and we are having a fight right now. Can we get back to it?” You reiterated, but something in Ellie’s eyes had shifted. It was almost like she was expecting you to be the evil thing she thought you were, but you weren’t. But as the realization that you were, once again, innocent dawned on her, so did her guilt. 

“I just… I assumed you were doing this… dating me… to get back at me. Honestly, it’s because that’s exactly what I would do. But you’re not me, and I’m sorry. I don’t think I have ever felt this way about a person in my whole life. It was already freaking me out and then Cat told me that you hated me and my mind went to the worst. I’m just… I’m sorry.” Her voice was steady but she was panicking. All you did was stare at her with your puffy eyes and red lips and all Ellie wanted to do was kiss you. Give you a bath and rub your back till you forgave her. All she felt like she was doing was causing you more pain, and she wanted it all to stop.

“I love you.” It came out of Ellie’s mouth so quickly. Almost as a plea, but she knew she meant it. She knew she meant it a while ago but the idea of it becoming real terrified her. She watched as your eyes lit up then quickly dimmed again. Suddenly there were tears in your eyes and her confession felt more like an assault.

“Don’t do that. Don’t say that to me if you don’t mean it. I’ve healed from my shit with Cat but it still hurts, this hurts. Being led on. This back and forth. If you are saying you love me you have to mean it and you have to stay.” It was you saying this that made Ellie realize just how unfair she had been to you. She knew you had healed from Cat, but it was becoming painfully obvious how much work Ellie had to do. For fucks sake you had to watch her dry hump another girl just to have this conversation. And you were still here. You hadn’t left or avoided her, but rather gave her time to breathe. This was healthy. This was good. And Ellie felt like she didn’t deserve any of it.

“I do mean it. I love you. I love all the beautiful and weird things about you. I love you and I will say that until my face turns blue. I love the fuck out of you. I know I don’t deserve you, I know this is hard but I’m trying to grow. I want to stay. I want to be there for you, but I think I need help learning how. I’m not like you, I’m not there yet, but I want to be. For you.” Ellie was fidgeting with her hands, it was obvious she was extremely nervous and expected you to reject her.

What she didn’t expect was for you to close the gap in between the both of you and press a gentle kiss to her lips. 

“I’m going to stay, but if you grind up and make out with another girl again I’m leaving. No questions asked. Okay?” You were smiling a smile that said ‘I’m fucking serious’ and that made Ellie fall a little more in love with you.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t want anyone else’s lips except yours.” She smiled leaning down to press another kiss to your lips, then your cheek, and then your neck.

“Are you guys done? Can we go back to the party?” Dina yelled from the porch, having watched the whole scene unfold. Ellie just ignored her as she pressed another gentle kiss to your neck, her arms wrapping around your waist pulling you as close as possible to her. All you could do was laugh and allow Ellie to slightly lift you off of the ground with how tight she was holding you. 

“Real classy, you guys. I’m going back in.” Dina called out one more time, not knowing you and Ellie would never make it back inside.

One Year Later…

Excerpts from Ellie’s Journal:

My girlfriend is a saint… well obviously cause she’s dating me but she did the whole last part of our project. I was totally lost that whole class but my genius girl got us an A.. She did fail her pottery class. She’s so fucking bad at that shit.

I took her to a cat cafe for her birthday… she cried so much hugging the cat’s that we got asked to leave… we got asked to leave because my girlfriend was squeezing the cats so bad and crying into their fur. The barista said she was causing them emotional distress… I gave them one star on Yelp.

She came and visited Jackson over winter break… Game night with her and Joel was a complete nightmare, they are both so competitive. I had to hold her back because she tried to physically fight Tommy… God, I love her so much.

She got me a guitar pick with her initials on it for Christmas. Told me now I had to play for her, she didn’t know that her gift was the song I wrote her. My sweet little baby cried. It was so precious.

She’s so fucking talented with her fingerhiuoiji

We’re roommates next semester… I’m never going to get any fucking sleep. It’s fine because I like the trade-off but my grades are about to plummet.

I drew her when we were sitting together in the park today. It’s just getting warm again and she’s wearing shorter skirts… I know I sound like a perv but she looks really hot is skirts… anyways, I drew her and she cried.. Again. She’s so sentimental that it makes my heart ache.

I’ve never imagined in my whole sorry life that I could be this happy with someone. It’s easy. Whoever said love was hard wasn’t in love with my girl because it is by far the easiest thing I have done in my whole life. I sleep better at night, I smile more, I feel content. She has put the stars in the sky for me. I don’t know what I was so afraid of. Love is good. She is good. I love her.

It’s our one year anniversary and I can't believe this freak hasn’t killed me or herself yet (accidentally). She got a job at Bean and brings me home ice tea every day. We’ve started reading books together and she strokes my hair when she knows I’m tired. She knows me better than I know myself. I’ve learned things about myself while being with her. She encourages me everyday to grow and to try new things. I feel like a new person, but I still feel like me. Like the me who loves this girl with her whole heart. 

ai audios:

ai audios links:

what does it look like i'm doing?

did you know who i was?

you meant something to me

wait you love me?

i love you

yea yea

[amyelevenn]

the knife cuts both ways

PAIRING; Max Verstappen x driver!reader

SUMMARY; a pre-race argument between you and Max has harsher consequences than either of you were anticipating.

WARNINGS; talks of a car accident, somewhat graphic descriptions of the aftermath. angst no comfort

A/N; yes this is the cliche reader gets into an accident after an argument but I couldn't help myself, it's a canon event okay!

1.2k words masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・✧・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・✧・✫・゜・。.

Max’s words just replayed in your mind, over and over and over and over, with no sign of ever running themselves thin.

“Your legacy will never live up to mine. I’m sorry I’m the better driver. You aren’t even in competition with me!”

You were sure he had said more, but you had tuned out what he was saying in hopes of having something left to salvage.

Picking at your lip to distract yourself proved ineffective – it had started bleeding, and you were still unable to take your mind off of it all. It didn’t help that you hadn’t even bothered to speak to him, or even go near his vicinity, after the matter. It did however help having motorhomes on complete opposite ends of the paddock, being able to easily navigate away from him and his team. You were still way too mad, needing much more than a few hours to cool off from the heat of the argument.

It would have to wait until the end of the race, at the least. If not, until the pair of you had flown home together, away from the prying eyes and ears of the paparazzi and fans alike. You weren’t even public with each other, so you were sure the media would have a field day with the current championship leader being in a screaming match with his only female colleague.

You hated how easily a small part of you wanted to give in to him, to just let it all breeze over just to be in his arms again, despite the horrible things that came out of his mouth.

If it wasn’t him, it would have been someone else, you try to rationalize. Everyone was thinking it, he was just the one who had the guts to verbalize it. But a small, minuscule part of you will always know that someone who loved you would never speak of you like that; no one who had any ounce of regard for your emotions would treat you the way he did.

But it was the fact that he chose to single out you.It was you who isn’t in competition with him. Not your team, or your car, you. Your legacy who would never live up to his, the 3-time world champion.

The whole of that Saturday night and Sunday morning had gone by in a blur. You weren’t even sure how you got in your car, fully equipped and watching the red lights go out as the race began.

Of course he would ruin the race that you’d be starting the highest you had before. In fact, that was the basis of your whole argument; you being proud of making it to Q3 and placing P8, but him complaining about barely making pole.

It was a massive achievement for you and your team – points weren’t something you exactly walked by every day, and you had the opportunity to score big here. But something about the importance of this race for you didn’t comprehend in Max’s mind.

The first couple laps went by smoothly, taking a couple overtakes under you belt, lined up in a solid P5. You see a Red Bull in your mirror, and before you can even ask, a voice in your ear informs you of “Perez, 1.1 behind.”

Weaving in and out of the chicanes, you get constant updates of the rocket slowing inching closer and closer to you, until you are hit with “Perez, 0.8 behind with DRS. Need you to push here.”

You were a good driver. A good team player, who followed the orders you were given to a T. so how you ended up snagging the back of the Red Bull as he overtook you was beyond you.

“Holy shit!”

That’s all you could say right before you black out; not something prophetic or memorable, but a base utterance steeped in a casual strain of effort to recentre the car. In the fleeting seconds that the words take form and flight, your brain cycles through a million images, memories plastered on a spinning reel. The blur of your life becomes a recognizable whole. You have always been your worst enemy and saviour.

Hurtling towards the concrete barrier, your brakes fail. You pray to deity above that you don’t even believe in for some kind of salvation; to make it out of this burning wreckage alive.

Your vision disappears for what feels like a millisecond, but there is too much chaos in too little time to be able to determine just how long it was. Your hearing was obliterated, the silence deafening and all consuming, forcing you into battling the line between consciousness and unconsciousness. You couldn’t move, even when you tried your very hardest – no amount of adrenaline would be able to push your paralyzed limbs enough to climb out of the crumpled mess once known as your car.

A hand frantically tapping on your helmet was the only way you knew you had survived; that there was still some life inside you, persevering in a time of desperation. You still had some feeling, which was a good sign.

But that was the breaking point, pushing you over the edge and taking Death’s hand.

Max couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A red flag, around turn 1. He was just there, so it would’ve had to have been someone close behind him. He slows around the last couple corners, the rest of the grid trailing behind.

“Are they okay?” he asks, as if it was some routine he had to follow rather than someone’s safety at stake. The lack of response he receives snaps him out of his clinical nature, even sparking a small bit of fear at losing a friend.

“Who is it, GP?”

“Get the car back to the garage, then we will talk.”

If that didn’t set Max’s nerves of fire, nothing else would.

He doesn’t reckon he has ever gotten out of his car quicker, fast to rip of his helmet to get a better view of the track marshals hailing over the ambulance. Their blaring sirens could be heard from the pitlane, a sound that sent a collective chill down everyone’s spines.

Perez was the one to tell him that it was your car. he was telling the crew how you clipped his back tire, but his car seemed to not have any damage. You had taken the brunt of the collision, if you could even call it that.

It was almost as if Max could feel the blood drain from his face at the mention of your name. Hearing it out loud confirmed his biggest nightmare – you were out there, hurt and surrounded by strangers thinking that he hated you.

He wanted to throw up, feeling beyond sick to his stomach at the thought of losing you before he had the chance to reconcile with you. He couldn’t afford to not have you by his side – even though you were private, you were his person – the love of his life, who he was watching die in front of his eyes.

How had he managed to get himself in this situation?

.・。.・゜✭・✧・✫・゜・。.

as always, feedback is appreciated!

[lisacameron99]

Revelation S.R.

Summary: based on the Criminal Minds episode Revelation (2x15)

Y/N Hotcher (Little Hotch) x eventual Spencer Reid

Warnings: angst, Spencer being tortured, Tobias Henkel, usual Criminal Minds stuff?, swearing, reader/I being really angry at the world because she loves Spencer but won't admit it, friends to lovers, emotions, idk if I am missing anything

LONG AF AND NOT PROOFED

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

“Where’s Spencer?” I asked, looking around the farm. “And JJ?”

“I don’t know, come check out the barn with me and Prentiss.” Morgan told me. We made our way to the barn and when we opened it, JJ pointed her gun at us, eyes wild.

There was a lot of commotion with trying to get JJ to lower her gun. I noticed the dead dogs. Jezebel. Oh God.

“Tobias Henkel is the unsub.” JJ told us once she realized it was us.

“We know,” I said gently.

“We just thought he was a witness. I had to kill them.” She said referring to the dogs. I glanced at the dead animals again and rubbed my temples. “There’s nothing left.”

“JJ, where’s Spencer?” I asked her but she didn’t answer me.

“JJ, look at me,” Prentiss prompted. JJ focused on her. “Where’s Reid?”

“Oh, uh, we split up. He went around back.”

I ran back outside to tell Dad and Gideon that we found JJ but not Spencer.

"Dad,” I called, running up to him. “Dad, JJ was in the barn, but Spencer’s not.”

“We searched the rest of the property and the house and he’s not there either. Neither is Henkel.”

“So,” I gulped, looking at my dad. “So where’s Spencer?”

“I don’t know. But we will find him.” Dad promised me.

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

I was standing with JJ and Emily by the ambulance while they checked JJ out.

“Hey, any sign of him?” Prentiss asked Morgan and he shook his head.

"You can't find Reid?" JJ asked, confused.

"Not yet," Prentiss told her.

"Prentis, Little Hotch." Derek pulled us away from JJ. "I think Reid followed him into the cornfield, it looks likes somebody got dragged." I rubbed my temple, trying to push away the stress migraine that was impounding.

"Hey, what's going on?" Prentiss asked the officer who just got off the phone.

"The sheriff two towns over. He just gave directions to a man who fit Henkel's description. It's to a motor lodge in Fort Bend."

"Let's get Hotch and Gideon." Morgan said and I went back to JJ.

After hours of not finding Spencer, morning came which brought Penelope too.

"You know they do have hotels in Georgia." She told me and Aaron.

"There's no sense splitting time between here and a field office." He told her, ushering her into the house.

"Right." She agreed warily, looking around the property.

"Think of the house as a witness," He explained to her. "If it could talk, what would it tell us?"

"My guess is it would tell us to get the hell out." She responded.

We made our wait into the main living room and JJ greeted Penelope with, "Welcome to our nightmare."

"His computer is an extension of his brain," Gideon told her. "I need you to dissect it."

"I'll get you set up, come on." Derek told her, taking her to where the computers were at.

"I'll come with," I mumbled, walking past my dad and everybody else, to go with Penelope and Morgan.

The rest of our team filled Dad in on everything, but there was no evidence pointing where Spencer and the unsub could be.

"Okay, right out the gate, the guy is self taught." Penelope told us. "His mainframe is totally idiosyncratic, but it's pretty brilliant."

"Talk to me about what this son of a bitch watches online. What the hell is all of this?" Morgan told her, trying his best to figure out the computers and how we could use it to help us know Henkel better.

"It's tame stuff, video games, software sports. Seriously, if I had to guess whose system this belongs to, I would say a crazy smart high school kid."

"Well clearly it's not Penelope. Can you please find us something that will help us find Spencer?" I snapped before walking out the room and back outside.

I hated this. How could Spencer have gotten so far away so fast? Where the hell was he being held? Please God, I begged, please bring him back to me. Please. I hadn't prayed in years, especially with my mom and dad fighting, but I knew we had a slim chance at getting Spencer back, and God was probably the only person to bring him to me.

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

"Hey guys!" Morgan called to us, I looked up at him from where I was sitting with Gideon on the steps. "I think I got something."

I ran over to where he was and he found a cellar.

I pulled out my gun as Morgan opened the door. "Tobias Henkel, FBI!" Dad and I followed him inside. We got our flashlights out and searched the ice cellar. "Tobias Henkel! Tobias!"

Dad moved closer to the unmoving body. "I think we just found Henkel's father." Well, shit.

We made our way out of the cellar and let CSI do their thing while we went back into the house.

"You need to get some sleep." Gideon told me and I rolled my eyes. "Sometimes it felt like I had two dads between Hotch and Gideon.

"I'm fine."

"When was the last time you slept?" JJ asked me.

"When was the last time for you?" I snapped back, my anger seeping through. I wanted to find Spencer. I wanted him back.

"Y/N, you need to get some sleep." Dad told me and I stomped my foot.

"Is that an order?" I demanded, looking my dad square in the face.

"Yeah, it is." He shot back and I threw my gun on the table, making JJ jump at the noise. I went into the living room and grabbed my blanket and my dad's pillow from the corner and laid on the floor to take a nap. There was no way in hell I was sleeping on any of the furniture here. After a few minutes, I felt JJ come sit by me, resting her back against the couch.

"I'm sorry." She muttered.

"I'm sorry too." I muttered back.

"I'm so stressed out that I can't sleep." She admitted after a few minutes.

"I can't either. I just want to find him." I relented.

"I saw you guys, at the club. You danced."

"Liquid courage fixes a lot of the world's problems. Sometimes."

"You guys would be cute together."

"You must be sleep deprived."

"I know what I saw at the club. You both like each other, you're practically dating anyways, why not just make it official?" And with that thought running through my brain, I fell asleep.

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

"Morgan just told me that he thinks the stressor is the father's death, which happened about six months ago." Dad told me and Gideon as we sifted through the papers.

"So basically he has split personality disorder?" I banged my head on the table.

"This journal is filled with religious ramblings." Morgan told us, coming into the room with the journal. "He notates hour by hour. November 15th, 3:17 - if ye offer a sacrifice of peace offering unto the Lord, ye shall offer it at your own will. And it goes on and on. 5:04, 7:41, 10:22, 1:42. But then it goes blank for days."

Morgan handed me the journal and I looked at it, getting a sense of who Henkel was. Dad put a hand on his head, thinking. "Maybe he got sick of writin'," The sheriff suggested.

"I think I got it," Dad said, and I looked at him hopefully.

"What is it?" Gideon asked him.

"Yeah, Dad, what did you figure out?"

"Journal entry - December 6th - father sick, wants me to put him down. I say, "Thou shalt not kill," He says, "Honor thy father." Must pray for guidance." Oh. So he killed his dad...

Before I could finish my thought, Gideon interrupted. "So he kills his father as an act of mercy?"

"Some sick sort of mercy." I muttered, flipping through the journal in my hand before giving it back to Morgan.

"This is two months ago. Tobias Henkel's father had been dead for four months already." Dad told us.

"That's exactly it. Look at the floor," Morgan told us, pulling a chair out for us to see. "These scuff marks are fresh." He was right, they were. "I mean it's like two people were moving the chairs constantly, trying to fight for control."

"So?" The sheriff asked.

"This journal matches Charles Henkel's handwriting, but it was written after he died. Upstairs, Tobias' bedroom - it's got junk puled from the floor to the ceiling, but the other bedroom could pass a military inspection." Morgan explained.

"So are you telling me, one of Tobias' personalities was his father?" The sheriff asked, trying to make sense of this situation.

"Well," Gideon put in, "Tobias was raised with a strict religious code - black and white - right and wrong. When his father asked Tobias to kill him, something had to give."

"And his brain couldn't handle the moral contradiction, so it split into two personalities." Dad said.

"To keep his father alive." I finished.

"So... who is Raphael?" The sheriff asked, confused.

"My guess - he's a mediator between the two. Angels have no human emotions. Live or die, they don't care, as long as it's God's will."

"We need to start profiling Tobias' father. He may be the one who chose where to take Reid."

"I'll get Penelope on it." I said, standing up and walking to the computer room.

"Pen, I need you to log into the system as Tobias' father."

"The system was set up three months ago. The dad was already dead."

"She knows that, smarty pants, but do it for your favorites anyway, alright?" Morgan said, coming in behind me.

"Okay," Penelope said, starting to type.

"Charles Henkel." Derek told her.

Tons of horrifying imagines and videos showed up on the screen. I closed my eyes and cracked my neck. This was going to be bad.

"Woah," Penelope said trying to take it all in.

"He's crazy." I mumbled. "Like crazy crazy. I can't imagine having split personalities, let alone, one of them be insane."

After a few minutes of Penelope trying to do her thing, the computers went blank.

"What happened?" Morgan asked her, confused.

She wasn't much help because she was equally confused. "I don't know?"

"What do you mean, you don't know?" I demanded, scared.

All of a sudden on most of the screens, Spencer showed up. He was bound to a chair beaten and bloodied.

"Oh my god." Penelope said, taking the words straight from my mouth.

"Guys! Guys!" Morgan shouted to the team. "Get in here!"

"He's been beaten." Prentiss said, assessing him.

"Can't you track him?" JJ asked, confused. I put a hand over my mouth, trying to remain composed.

"Henkel's only streaming this to his home computer." Penelope told them.

"This is for us, for Y/N, he knows we're here."

"I'm gonna put this guy's head on a stick." Morgan spat, angry.

"Why can't you locate him?" Dad asked Penelope.

"He's rerouting to a different I.P Address every thirty seconds. I can't track him."

"Can you really see inside men's minds?" Tobias asked Spencer. "See these vermin. Choose one to die. I'll let you choose one to live."

"No," I gasped at Spencer'svoice.

"I thought you wanted to be some kind of savior." Tobias said.

"You're a sadist ina psychotic break. You won't stop killing. Your word's not true." Spencer told him, trying to snap him out of the personality he was in. Tobias was either Raphael or his father at the moment.

"The other heathens are watching. That whore of yours, she's watching. Choose a sinner to die, and I'll say the name and address of the person to be saved."

"I won't choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like poacher." Playing into the fantasy. Good job, Spence, I thought.

"Can you really see into my mind, boy?" Tobias demanded lifting Spencer out of the chair. I gasped audibly, grabbing onto Gideon's arm. "Can you see I'm not a liar?" He yelled. "Choose one to die, and save a life. Otherwise, they're all dead."

"Alright," Spencer gave in, not wanting more people than necessary to die. "I'll choose who lives."

"They're all the same." Tobias spat at him.

"Far right screen." Spencer finally said.

"Marilyn David, 4913 Walnut Creed Road." Tobias said.

"You got that?" Dad asked Penelope.

"Yeah." She said, typing her fastest on the computer.

Gideon typed the phone number on a phone and it dialed.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end said.

"Marilyn David. My name is Jason Gideon. I'm with the FBI."

"What?" She said alarmed, Gideon told her to turn her computer off immediately and she did so.

"You're Raphael." Spencer said. Before anything else could happen, the screen went dark. Morgan walked out of the room, angry, and punched the door. I gripped JJ's hand hard, needing the contact to stay grounded.

"So now what? We wait for a 911 call, and hope we get there in time?" The sheriff asked.

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

When the next victims were killed, Dad, Gideon and I went to the crime scene.

"Slaughtered, same as the others. We've got roadblocks for a fifteen mile radius. Every unit's on the road, but so far nothing." I pushed the stray hairs out of my face and looked at the crime scene.

"I don't know how much longer Reid can hold out," Dad said quietly, giving in to his fear that Spencer might not make it.

"Who were the victims?" Gideon asked, ignoring Dad.

"Pam and Mike Hayes. He was a local defense attorney."

"And what Bible passage was left?" Gideon asked another question. I went and stood next to him.

"Isaiah 59. No one calls for justice, "no one pleads their case with integrity. They rely on empty arguments, they utter lies they conceive trouble and give birth to evil."

Gideon got close to the camera, "Reid, if you're watching, you're not responsible for this. You understand me? He's perverting God to justify murder. You are strong than him. He cannot break you."

"We're not getting any closer." Dad told us.

"Reid's brilliant. He'll figure out how to survive." Gideon said, trying to reassure us, himself included.

"You know, I always take advantage of Reid for his brain, but I never actually teach him how to deal with things emotionally."

"Lead by example." Gideon responded.

"What kind of example is that?" Dad asked.

"He'll make it."

"He has to." I whispered. "He has to make it." God, I prayed. Bring him back to me. Please just bring him back to me.

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

"We can trace their whole family history." Morgan said, looking at the evidence board we made up. "Here we got happy, smiling pictures of Tobias. Report cards all As and Bs, but as an eight year old, we get nothing."

"That's his mother leaving." Prentiss said from her spot next to me. "Six months later, on the other side of the board, we have a form from child services saying they paid a visit."

"Then Charles starts keeping journals about punishing sinners and needing to remove the devil from his son." I added. "Which corresponds to Tobias' drug use. He's trying to escape."

"So wherever Reid is, it was Tobias' choice, not this fathers." Morgan told us.

"How do you figure?" Prentiss asked him.

"Look at these two lives." Morgan pointed out. "They're like inverse graphs. One's getting weaker while the other one's getting angrier. Tobias would run away, his father would have stood and fought."

"Okay, so Tobias uses drugs as an escape. I'll go back through the journals with Y/N and see if we can find anything connecting his drug use to a hiding place."

"Uh, where's Gideon?" JJ asked walking into the room.

"He's upstairs. Why? What's going on?" Morgan asked her. JJ glanced at me before responding.

"Henkel's jut posted the latest murder."

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

We all gathered in the computer room to watch. It was horrific. Absolutely horrific. In everyway imaginable.

"I don't understand, why can't we just shut it down?" Gideon asked, pacing, confused by technology.

"Because I can't pinpoint his IPF." Penelope tried to explain.

"Just remove it once he sends it." Jason told her.

"It doesn't work like that." I said. "It's the internet."

"It's the internet, sir. Like Y/N said. Once something's out there, you can never take it back."

"It must remain. You can't undo anything."

"Right, you can't once it's up. Once it's up, it's up forever."

"I hate technology. Can you please do something? Anything? I do not want him thinking he has a pulpit."

"I have a list of everyone from the file-sharing chain. I could send out a mass warning that the video is actually a virus. I'm gonna do that. Okay." Penelope sent it out.

After a few moments, Tobias, as Charles, started streaming live again. "Do you think you can defy me?" Tobias said.

"I don't know what he's talking about." Spencer pleaded with him.

"You're a liar! You're pitiful! Just like my son. This ends now." I gasped when he pulled the gun on Spencer. "Confess your sins. Confess!" He hit Spencer in the face, making me cry out.

"I haven't don anything! Tobias, help me!" Spencer begged. I covered my mouth, tears streaming down my face.

"He can't help you. He's weak." Tobias, as Charles, said to him.

"Tobias!" Spencer cried.

"Confess your sins!" Tobias, as Charles, demanded again.

"Help!"

"Oh my god. He's killing him." Penelope said. I put the other hand over my mouth, trying to stifle my cries as Spencer started choking and the chair toppled over with him in it. He was dying. Actually dying.

Gideon stormed out and Dad, Prentiss, JJ and Morgan raced in. I hugged Dad tightly as Penelope explained what happened. Dad pulled away and went to get Gideon. I continued to silently cry. God, please, please save him. Let him come back to me. Please. I kept praying it over and over in my head, hoping He was listening.

Tobias came back into the room and started performing CPR on Spencer. Eventually after a few rounds, Spencer started coughing and breathing. I let out a strangled cry before clamping my mouth shut.

"Wait, wait a second." Prentiss said. "When was the last video posted?"

"9:23." Penelope responded.

"And - and what was the time of death?" She asked.

"The 911 call came in at 9:04 and the murder must have been moments later." Dad told her.

"That's only a 19 minute difference!" I said, looking over at JJ who nodded.

"How long would it take to post the mpeg?" Morgan asked Penelope.

"Two or three minutes." Penelope mumbled, guessing.

"Let's call it two." Morgan said.

"You figure a maximum of 60 miles an hour in a residential area." I piped up again. "That means Henkel has to be within a seventeen mile radius of the crime scene."

"Garcia, can we see it on a map?" Dad asked her and she did what he asked and pulled it up on the computer.

"Call Farrady." Gideon said. "I want that area locked down like it's martial law." JJ got up to go call him.

"Guys."

"You came back to life." Tobias said as Raphael.

"Raphael." Spencer said.

"There can only be one of two reasons." He declared.

"I was given CPR." Always with the science.

"There are no accidents. How many members are on your team?" Tobias, as Raphael, asked.

"Excluding me, seven."

"The seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first sounding followed hail and they were thrown down to earth."

"He thinks it's Revelation. The seven archangels versus the seven angels of death." Dad said, understanding the unsub.

"Tell me who you serve." Tobias, as Raphael, demanded. Pulling Spencer up to sitting.

"I serve you." Spencer croaked.

"Then choose one to die." My eyes widened in fear.

"What?" Spencer asked, confused, trying to stall and come up for time.

"Your team members - choose one to die." He repeated himself.

"Kill me." Spencer pleaded. What?

"You said you weren't one of them." He reminded Spencer.

"I lied."

"Your team has seven other members. Tell me who dies!"

"No!" I grabbed Dad's arm in a panic when he pulled a gun on Spencer. Dear God, please save him. Please save him. Please. Please Please.

He rolled the chamber of the gun. "Choose, and prove you'll do God's will."

"No." He clicked the gun. Dad used his free hand to cover his mouth.

"Choose." Tobias, as Raphael, demanded.

"I won't do it." Spencer told him, looking him square in the face. He shot again, but no bullet came out.

"Life is a choice."

"No." The gun clicked again. No bullet.

"Choose."

"I... I choose Aaron Hotchner." There was a moment of relief before Spencer started talking. "He's a classic narcissist. He think's he's better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23:4. "Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense. In emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense."

Tobias, as Raphael, took the bullet out of the camber. "For God's will." and put it back in and spun it.

We all walked out into the main room. "I'm not a narcissist." Dad said.

I looked at Gideon and then my dad. "Come on. Look. You can't take anything from that. He's not in his right mind, Hotch."

"Dad, he's trying to live." I pointed out.

"No. Stop. Stop." Dad said. "Alright, everybody right now - what's my worst quality?" Nobody said anything. "Okay, I'll start. I have no sense of humor."

"You're a bully." JJ said, referring to how he treats unsubs.

"I'm a bully," He agreed.

"You can be a drill sergeant sometimes." Morgan said.

"Right." Dad agreed.

"You don't trust women as much as men." Prentiss said.

Dad looked at me to say something but I shook my had. I wasn't going to say anything back about my dad.

"Okay, good." He relented. "I'm all of these things, but none of you said that I ever put myself above the team, because I don't ever."

"You don't, Dad." I agreed with him. Not sure where he was going with this, I indulged him nevertheless.

"I don't. Reid and I argued about the definition of classic narcissism, and he knew that I would remember that. And he also quoted Genesis chapter 23 verse 4." He picked up one of the many Bibles around the house and handed it to me. "Read it."

"I am a stranger and a sojourner with you. Give me property, forbear a place among you that I may burry my dead out of my sight." I read from the Bible.

"He wouldn't get it wrong unless it was on purpose." Dad scoffed, knowing that Spencer tricked Tobias/Charles/Raphael.

"He's in a cemetery." Morgan concluded.

"I don't see a cemetery." Prentiss said, looking a the map on Penelope's screen.

"Call up the first time we saw Reid." Gideon thought aloud. Penelope did what he asked. "I won't choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher."

"Check to see if there's any poaching in the last couple days." I demanded, pacing back and forth in the back of the room.

"Okay, uh." Penelope typed as fast as she could. "A farmer reported two sheep being slaughtered on his property."

"Where are we talking?" Morgan asked. She pulled it up on the map.

"What's that patch of green there?" JJ asked her.

I moved closer to the computer, wedging myself between Dad and Gideon.

"Marshall Parish. I think that it's an old plantation." Dad said.

"Wait." Prentiss said.

"Tobias wrote in his journals about staying clean and keeping away from the Marshall." My brain rapid fired.

"Guy's there's a cemetery on the grounds." Penelope told us.

We all rushed to the vehicles.

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

"Spread out! They have to be on foot! Let's go!"

"Spencer!" I screamed. "Spencer! Spencer!" I screamed when I heard the gun shot. I ran towards the noise, everybody else right with me.

"You alright?" Dad asked Spencer after getting him on his feet. I stared at him blankly. He was here. He was alive. He was here.

"I knew you'd understand." He told Dad, hugging him before moving on to JJ.

"I am so sorry." She told him. I put my hands on my face and tried to remain calm. He was alive. He was alive. Thank you God. Thank you for bringing him back to me. Thank you.

"It's alright. It wasn't your fault."

"Let's get you out of here." Gideon said, reaching for Spencer. Spencer pushed away from him and into my arms. I burst into tears.

"I'm okay, you saved me." He mumbled into my hair. "I'm okay."

I clutched to him, holding onto him tightly. “Please don’t leave me again.” I begged. “Please.” I bagged my hands in his shirt.

“I won’t. I’m okay.” He repeated pulling away after a few minutes.

“Okay, let’s get you to an ambulance.” Gideon said again.

“Please - can I have a minutes alone?” Spencer asked.

“I’m not leaving you again.” I clutched his hand.

“I’ll just be a minute.” He squeezed. “Okay? Just a minute.”

Gideon pulled me away from Spencer, giving him a minute.

When Spencer caught back up to us, I held his hand again.

“Please don’t leave me.” I begged as we got to the ambulance.

“I won’t, I won’t leave you.” He promised me sitting in the back of the bus. I leaned my head on his shoulder, sighing at the nightmare this case was.

Part 2 coming soon!

[moody-alcoholic]

Scapegoat

AN: I hit 200 followers which actually blows my mind the people like my work so I'm uploading 2 chapters as a thank you <3. ALSO there is more smut to come the next few chapters is a lot of angst and hurt/comfort, a lot of bad people doing bad things... The next 2-3ish chapters are the ones I'm worried about posting the most since things take a sharp turn downhill. I will say though, this story does have a happy ending, just got to get through some hurt first.

Summary: Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Slow burn (sorry but not sorry). 2.7k words. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe. CW: Medical stuff, medical inaccuracy, descriptions of CPR, CPR.

Previous parts - masterlist - next part

Enjoy <3

You’re on the ward today, it’s almost empty most of the people who were here yesterday seeking treatment have been discharged. 

“Quiet?” You look up to see the doctor reaching down for a medical file on the desk you’re sat at.

“Don’t say that word, you’ll curse us.” You protest reaching over to hand him the file. 

“Don’t be silly that’s just a myth, the only reason you think it get’s busier is because you’re paying more attention to the passage of time.” He says opening the file, then signing something in it. 

“Well if that’s the case I will go for my break, and I’m sure it won’t get busy.” You get up taking the file from him and putting it back in it’s spot. 

“You have your pager?” You show him the device on your hip as you walk out the ward to the canteen. You’re still actively trying to avoid Jack and thankfully since the little incident yesterday you have not seen him. Guess running this place is keeping him busy. You shove some food down your throat, you’re not really hungry but you haven’t eaten anything all day and the last thing you want is to be passing out in this heat.

You take your time almost on purpose you check your phone. Nothing, other then the one attempted call you let ring out. You had been becoming more and more paranoid since the ‘chat’ with Jack and you don’t know why. You just hope Johnny and Simon are okay, you knew they would be they’re soldiers, SAS soldiers they are more then capable of taking care of themselves. You leave the canteen when it starts getting busier heading back to the ward. 

“See, not a single person.” The doctor says sitting in the same chair you were in. 

“Well I stand corrected.” You say throwing your hands up. He chuckles getting up to let you sit down. You walk round the desk as he wobbles. You put your hands out to steady him.

“You feeling okay?” You ask as he braces himself on the desk. 

“Yeah just tired, I think I need a lie down.” He says standing up straight, he looks clammy. 

“Why don’t you lie down in the ward, it’s cool in there and you won’t have to go far.” You say, you manged to feel his forehead he’s not warm but he does seem a bit out of it. 

“Okay,” He says walking into the ward, you help him in the bed and grab him a glass of water. 

“Ring the bell if you need anything, I’ll come check on you in an hour or so.” You say pulling the curtain round. That was weird, you head back to the desk when the phone rings. 

“Medical.” You say picking the phone up. 

“Hey we’ve got a guy here who might have broke his ankle can you get to the supply depot intake?” A voice on the other end says.

“Yeah I’m on my way.” You reply hanging up and typing in another number. 

“Hey, I need to go deal with a suspected broken ankle can you come watch the bay?” you say to which ever nurse just picked up. She’s says she’s on her way and you wait, when she arrives you see it’s the same nurse who unknowingly saved you from Jack yesterday. 

“The doctor wasn’t feeling well he went to lie down in the ward.” You say as you grab the med bag off it’s hook. 

“Is he okay?” She asks. 

“Yeah just the heat I think, check on him in like 20 minutes if I’m not back.” She nods and you head out to the supply intake. Even though the base is small the supply depots are massive, filled to the brim with all sorts of supplies you make your way down seeing soldiers circled round someone on the floor. 

“See this is why you have to look where you’re going.” Someone says as you push your way through. 

“See we’ve even got the cute nurse for you.” Another says, you roll your eyes.

“Alright settle down, get back to work.” You look up and see an officer standing above you, he explains what happened, he fell off the loading dock landed on his ankle. It didn’t look too swollen from what you could tell. 

“You can sit with it elevated and I’ll give you an ice pack. If the swelling doesn't go down you might need to go to Damascus for an x-ray.” You say handing him a cool pack from the bag. He nods and you help him on his feet to a chair.

“Want any pain relief?” You ask, he shakes his head, the officer says he’ll keep and eye on him and thanks you for your help. You nod deciding for whatever reason to take the long way back to the ward. You’re enjoying the walk in the sun, it takes your mind off of missing Johnny and Simon, you’re in a world of your own remembering the last few days together how nice it was that you almost miss the beeping of your pager. 911, medbay. You rush inside heading straight in dumping the bag at the nurses station as you see the nurse doing CPR on the doctor in bed. 

“What happened!” You ask rushing over and pulling gloves on. 

“I don’t know I went to check on him and he wasn’t breathing.” She says between breaths.

“Let me take over.” You say switching with her so she can get a break. You hear more medical staff run in the room, the alarm would have gone out to all medical staff. And Jack.  One of the nurses comes over to try and get a IV in and a medic takes over control of the situation. 

“Okay once we’ve got a line in lets push epi right away, someone get him on a monitor when was the last pulse check?” He asks. The nurse replies and he orders you to stop CPR so we can check. No pulse. You switch with someone else doing CPR as you stand to the side waiting until you will take over for them. What happened? He seemed fine? Is it an underling condition? Heart attacks don’t just happen. All of a sudden you feel guilty, he has a kid and wife at home. We’re doing everything we can. You remind yourself. There’s a shock, a pulse check, no change. You take over CPR letting the other person rest. It’s not looking good you look over at the medic, he looks lost, the only doctor on the base is down. Another round of adrenaline, another shock another rhythm check. Nothing, asystole, we all look at the medic. There is nothing we can do, he asks if we all think we should stop. There are some murmurs, some nods, the medic looks round one more time and sighs.  

“I can’t call it we need a doctor.” He says. You step back.

“I’ll call it in.” You say leaving the room going over to the nurses station. You slump down in the chair looking at the phone. The nurses in the room have started leaving, it’s only the medic and the nurse from earlier now. You pick up the phone opening a book and finding the number for the main Damascus base. The doors to the med bay open as the call rings through. You hold your breath as Jack walks in he goes into the ward talking to the medic. When someone picks up on the other end of the phone you explain the situation, it’s like your body is running on auto-pilot. 

“They’ll be someone over within the next 2 hours to processes the body.” They say. You don’t even say thank you you don’t even remember saying goodbye. You just remember putting the phone down looking over at the doctors body on the bed. Michael, his name was Michael, he has a 3 year old son called Harry, after Price Harry. A wife called Alice, who loves to paint. Now he was dead. 

“I can take watch if you want to get some rest.” You hear a voice beside you. It’s the nurse, you don’t even know her name.

“Call me when they get here, they said they would be here within the next 2 hours.” She nods and you head to the dorms. They’re empty you flop down on your bed. You remember seeing Jacks eyes follow you as you left the ward. You close your eyes, trying not to cry. You can’t help but think about his wife, a widow now. His son will grow up without a dad. You feel guilty, you roll over closing your eyes.   ——————————  You wake to your pager beeping you back to the ward. You look round the room it’s still empty, it’s only been half an hour if that. They can’t be here already, the drive from Damascus takes at least an hour. You get up anyway heading to the ward. When you walk in you almost pass out. There is Johnny, Simon, Price and a man you’ve never met before who must be Gaz. You look over into the ward, his body has been zipped up in a body bag and the curtains almost all the way drawn, you swallow hard getting rid of the lump in your throat. 

“Well I’ll tell ye what lass, give us her bunk and we’ll find her ourselves.” You hear Johnny say as he’s bent over the counter of the nurses station. You walk up to the desk not quite believing it.

“There she is!” Johnny shouts as he sees you. 

“You’re not here for the body are you?” You ask them.

“The body?” Price asks. You press your lips together, your eyes wonder to Simon, although you can’t see his face under his mask. His eyes still look soft though, kind. Johnny is looking at you with that cheeky grin on his face. You just want to jump in his arms, you want to just blurt everything out, you just want to feel them holding you again.

“The Major is on his way.” The nurse says.

“Of course he is.” You sigh as she gets up and you take her seat. She waves goodbye and tells you she’ll see you later. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask quietly. 

“We were invited.” Johnny says. You look confused but you don’t have time to question it as Jack walks through the double doors. 

“Good to see you again captain.” Jack says extending his hand out so John could shake it. You felt sick sitting up straighter in your chair as Jack makes friendly with everyone. 

“Come through to my office, we have a lot to discuss.” He says gesturing them to the exit.

“You’ll let me know when the doctor from Damascus gets here?” Jack says looking over at you. 

“Course sir.” You reply, he smiles back at you it makes you feel sick. What the hell did he want? What was the play here? Yesterday he was threatening you to get information from them now they’re here. A part of you hoped they were here for you. Hoped the cryptic message you sent to Johnny was enough to get alarm bells ringing. You shook the thought away, they weren't here for you, besides Jack hasn’t done anything since, maybe he was just having a bad day. Right now all you needed to focus on was Michael, and getting his body secure so he can go home.

You spend the next few hours doing nothing at all, no calls, no one comes in for help. They come for the body about half an hour after 141 arrived, you call Jack but he doesn't come. They take a statement from you and then he’s gone. Your shift is supposed to be over soon, you flick through a random medical journal as you wait for your replacement. It’s the medic from earlier. 

“They took the body then?” He asks as you get up. You nod. 

“Did he have a family.” 

“A wife and kid.” You say. 

“That sucks.” He replies. You nod again heading for the door. You’re not hungry you just want to sleep get away from today.

“Hey!” The medic shouts back just as you’re about to go through the doors. You crane your head back to look at him.

“The major want’s you in his office.” You feel sick but nod at him. You feel like you can smell the death in the air, no it’s just your imagination. There is no such thing as the smell of death, just the smell of decomposing bodies. You make it to Jacks office and knock on the door.

“Come in.” You open the door and walk in.  

“Sit.” Jack says. 

“I would prefer to stand sir.” You say. He sighs. There is another knock at the door. 

“Come in!” Jack shouts, two soldiers walk in you look at them then back to Jack confused. 

“So we got the results back from the autopsy.” You look at him shocked.

“That was quick.” You say. He nods.

“It was rushed through given the circumstances of the situation.” He says, you can’t help but feel like you’re about to get told off again, like you’re a kid in the headmasters office. 

“Turns out the doctor had lethal amounts of insulin in his system.” Jack says, you look at him confused and scoff.

“He wasn’t diabetic.” You say. Jack nods, he spins the computer monitor around so you can see. 

“This is your ID card withdrawing a very large amount of insulin,” he says standing up his hands flat on the desk table. 

“I didn’t do that, it must be a mistake.” You scoff. He looks serious.

“I’m sorry what are you accusing me of?” You ask suddenly nervous. 

“Look I can make this easy for you, just confess to what you did and we can skip the court-marshal, you’ll be back on a flight to the UK tonight.” Jack says, you look around at the two soldiers behind you who you can almost feel pressing up against you.

“You’re crazy.” You laugh. He sighs hanging his head, for a second you think you see genuine sympathy. 

“I tried to give you a chance.” He says shrugging then he gestures to the soldiers behind you who grab your arms. You hear the clicking of cuffs before you can react. What were you going to do anyway? They’re way bigger then you, stronger. 

“What is going on!” You shout, almost not believing what is happening. Your mind turns to Simon and Johnny were they still here? You were going to look for them when your shift had finished, now you’re in cuffs being accused of murder. Jack comes round the desk to look you in your eyes, he leans in to whisper in your ear, you pull your head back as far as it will go.

“I told you I could make your life very difficult.” You feel his breath on your neck you feel sick, you can’t believe what is happening. 

“Take her to the cells, as of right now she’s to be treated as an enemy of the state.” 

“What the actual fuck! Asshole!” Is all you manage to shout as you’re dragged through the doors. You don’t know what to say, what to do. Johnny and Simon can’t help you. Maybe this was his plan all along? You get to the tiny detention wing of the base. You don’t think this has ever been used, the whole place seems to be covered in a layer of sand and dust, and it’s hot.

You’re pressed up against a wall and patted down, your phone, pager, radio, everything is taken off you. You’re stripped down to your shirt and pants, they take your boot’s and belt. You look at them in the eyes your two guards, you don’t recognise them maybe they came from Damascus. They don’t say anything, they won’t meet your eye line. You're still too shocked to say anything, to confused to attempt to fight. They take the cuffs off and you’re thrown into a room the door bolted behind you. You look over at the padded bed, the florescent lights and the cold concrete walls. You pull your legs up to your chest burring your head in your knees. What the hell just happened. 

Next part

[sweetracha]

Hihi!🩷<3

I've never sent an ask before and I'm a little nervous but you seem super nice and sweet!

I was wondering if you could do mommy!Jisung fic or HCs or literally anything you want, ive been reading your Felix and Minho ones and ohemgeeeeee I love it so so so much! Please don't feel pressured to do this you can totes ignore it if you want, thank youuuu😘🫶 mwah

Do I sign off with something, idk- byeee

Mommy! Han Headcannon

Warning: Mommy Dom Han, ANGST, Description of Panic Attacks (Based on my personal experience with them, they manifest differently for everyone), Little note of punishment, mostly fluffy with a hint of smut.

The mommy thing came as a complete surprise to both of you

It wasn't planned, it was discussed, it wasn't even noticed at first

While most things like these are born out of excitement and fun

This one instead came out during a terrible situation

The kitchen floor you sunk down on was cold and bit at your exposed thighs, sleep shorts did nothing to protect you.

Your shirt felt too tight like a snake slowly constricting around your throat

Your heartbeat screamed in your ears and lurched in your chest

Breathing was nauseating

The room was expanding and shrinking all at once

The bubble around you was shrinking

shrinking

shrinking

but it wouldn't pop

You poked it, hit it, screamed at it, did everything you could

it wouldn't fucking pop

You closed in on yourself, seeing the ledge and knowing you were going off

your nails sunk into your flesh as you held on for dear life

"Baby? FUCK! baby, why are you on the floor"

Han came home a bit later from the studio, fully expecting to find you waking up from your afternoon nap

When he turned the corner to set down his things there you were. White as a ghost and shaking.

Immediately he pried your hand from your arms and held them in his.

He kneeled down and hissed from the freezing tile.

"Baby, shhhh. I need you to listen. Can you hear me? It's just panic sweetheart, nothing is coming for you."

"Bubble, closing, fast"

"No, it isn't. Look I'm in the bubble, see. If I was able to get inside the bubble then the bubble isn't closing, it's getting bigger. I'm here, baby I'm here." A gentle hand cupped your face, slowly bringing your eyes to his.

Glassy eyes looked back

"Mommy is here?"

He didn't even question it, if this is what you needed then this is what he would give you

"Yes baby, mommy is here. come to mommy"

You had no memory of what happened that night and Han was afraid to approach the subject

It was a secret he kept, eating him alive

Every time he looked at you he wanted to blurt it out

All Han ever wanted to do was to be your safety, clearly Mommy was that comfort you needed

He picked at his hand and rubbed his legs raw while watching a movie one night

You could tell from his fidgeting something was wrong, his anxiety was building.

"Hannie, What's wrong baby?"

"NOTHING!. sorry nothing is wrong"

"Han...What is it"

"I can't tell you!"

"You can tell me anything, you know that. Jesus you just watched me have a full-blown panic attack last week! Speak to me"

"I need it"

"Need what"

"Mommy."

"Y-You want to call me mommy? Han that's not a bad thing-"

"No...I need to be yours, please" His eyes are now made of the same glass as yours.

Slowly Mommy Han came in and out of your lives

It was clear Mommy was saved for those special nights

Those nights when you needed a bit more love

Where he needed a bit more reassurance

Where you both needed a bit more comfort

Sex with Mommy was soft and sweet

Slow and loving

Praising with no underlying degradation

He would kiss every inch of your skin light as a feather, not to overstimulate you

Cumming wasn't always something that happened either

No, Mommy Han just needed to be there with you and to love you

This didn't mean Mommy Han went without disciplining you

But whereas others would spank, overstim, or deny

He simply scolded you. A bit of humiliation mixed in.

"So worried Mommy wasn't thinking about you that you had to go and send me that little picture hmm? I bet it eased your mind, putting your sexy body in mommy's mind but an act like that can't go unpunished can it? Now Mommy is going to call Chan and Changbin back to finish the meeting you so rudely interrupted. You my dear are going to sit on my cock like the good little thing I know you are and be quiet. Got it?"

While the meeting was long and punishing to you, Han made sure to stay as still as possible.

Han would tease, but Mommy would never.

Soon you wake up to Han slowly thrusting into you, a blank screen indicating the meeting had ended.

"Shhh pretty baby, go back to sleep. Mommy has you. Uh Uh, Mommy knows you'll be good for him and go right back to sleep, right baby? Shhhh just like that. Goodnight baby, Mommy loves you"

That last part didn't need to be said

You never doubted Mommy's love for you

Every time Han made sure you knew

Just how much Mommy adored you

The Sweetest Batch: @goblinracha @kaciidubs @channieandhisgoonsquad @comet-falls @ddyskz @jiminskies @j-onedrabbles @lixiesweetbrownie @marrivmel @caitlyn98s

[luna-writes-stuff]

Unforgiven II, Kaz Brekker

Song link

Fanfic, female! reader

Angst, but a with a tiny sprinkle of fluff

Word count:

Tw: typical soc stuff, explosions, blood/injuries, description of drowning/recovering from drowning., description of dizziness/losing consciousness, Kaz is fighting demons to save your life, Nina doing heartrender things, Kaz nearly crying, use of Y/N (I deserve hell)

Summary: You have been friends with Kaz for as long as either of you can remember. Even before all the “Ketterdam is my mother” talk and trauma. So when you get caught up in an explosion during a heist, Kaz loses his shit. He becomes an anxious wreck, doing his best to get you out of danger. And in order to do so, he has to make certain sacrifices for himself.

No - this is not a pt. 2 to anything. The song is called Unforgiven II. This fic is based off of a song.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“Lay beside me and tell me what they've done.

And speak the words I wanna hear to make my demons run.”

“Kaz, come on!” You ushered, running towards docks, Kaz short on your heels, though his pace slowed with every step he took. You knew his leg was bothering him, but at the moment, you needed to get out of this place.

It had been your casual “let’s steal something and get money for it” heist. Everything had gone exactly according to plan. Wylan’s bomb went off at time, Inej got the necklace without being noticed, Jesper was a great distraction, Matthias had been on look-out as Nina had joined Jesper in being decoy. You and Kaz had been making sure the rendezvous point remained safe. You had been in Dime Lion territory, so the risk of being caught was great. Yet, there had been no issues. That was until Jesper, not so subtly, managed to sneak a look towards you and Kaz, alerting others of your location.

So now you and Kaz were on the run. Trying to get away without getting injured or being discovered of stealing things. It had been five minutes now and you knew Kaz’ leg would no longer hold up.

“The door is locked now but it's open if you're true.

If you can understand the me then I can understand the you.”

You spared another look behind you, noticing you were no longer being followed closely. You halted your steps, simultaneously causing Kaz to stop too.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, obviously supporting all his weight on his cane.

“Where did they go?” You wondered aloud, referring to the gang members that had been so set on catching you earlier.

Now Kaz looked behind him too, noticing the empty streets.

“Something isn’t right.” He noted, making you nod in agreement.

“Lay beside me, under wicked sky.

Through black of day, dark of night, we share this, paralyzed.”

“We should keep moving, just to be safe.” You decided, now setting a normal walking pace, trying to give Kaz the opportunity to recover. As you walked past the crates and empty ships, something weird suddenly occurred to you.

“You hear that?” You whispered, holding a hand out towards Kaz to stop him.

“Hear what?” He questioned, now keeping his ears open.

“Sizzling.” You observed. “Like firework being lit.”

At those words, Kaz’ eyes widened. He looked around to find the source of the sound, but he could not bring himself to locate it.

“The door cracks open but there's no sun shining through.

Black heart scarring darker still but there's no sun shining through.

No there's no sun shining through, no there's no sun shining.”

“Bomb.” He managed out, before grabbing the loose fabric of your sleeve, tugging you with him as he ran.

You followed suit quickly, the danger of not knowing where the bomb was, making your adrenaline race. You released your sleeve from Kaz’ hold, running behind him to make sure you could drag him with you in case he’d slow down again.

In the distance, you could see the rest of the crows waiting, but they had yet to notice you and Kaz. No Dime Lions were spotted near them yet, which had been a relative good sign.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

Turn the pages, turn the stone.

Behind the door, should I open it for you?”

“Kaz, turn around!” You warned. The sound of the walking fire seemed nearer than before, alerting you of the fact you were running in the wrong direction.

“We’re only nearing it!” You explained without hesitation.

Kaz spared you a quick nod, before running along the coastline, no longer running away from the shores. You followed his every step. Your breath had started to appear colder than before, your shirt uncomfortably clinging to your back, but you knew you’d catch your breath later. Stopping now might only increase the chances of becoming injured.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

Sick and tired I stand alone.

Could you be there?

'Cause I'm the one who waits for you.

Or are you unforgiven too?”

Your attempt for cover came too late; before either of you could properly process it, a big explosion ignited only a few feet from you. You could have counted yourself lucky for not being too close to it, not having received any burning flesh. The force of the explosion - however - was something you couldn’t escape.

Before you could even realise what was happening, you were flying through the air, rocketing towards the shore lines in an inhumane speed. You could only briefly register Kaz’ body on the floor before the ice cold temperature ran over you.

Your body impacted on top the water, the weight with the added speed rapidly pulling you under. You weren’t on time for any of it. When you had already fallen, it still felt like you were flying, and when you were flying, you hadn’t even properly heard the explosion. It all happened with the blink of an eye.

“Come lay beside me, this won't hurt I swear.

She loves me not, she loves me still, but she'll never love again.”

When you finally realised you had been submerged in the freezing canal waters, you had to force your body to work again. Your limbs felt heavy, whilst your head felt lighter than it even been. An unknown weight settled on your waist as you were pushed further down.

Looking down at it, you were faced with a huge piece of wood, tearing a hole in your coat as it forced you down. In blind panic, you reached down, trying to get the wood from the coat. But the longer you fought it, the deeper you sank, and the more pressure build in your ears.

You weren’t going to go down like this - sinking because of a heist gone wrong. No, you were meant to go out in a tub of money, rolling in the debts of your enemies.

The looming threat of imminent death and hopeless made your efforts worsen, your brain cloudy, unable to think straight as you kept tugging on the coat.

“She lay beside me but she'll be there when I'm gone.

Black hearts scarring darker still, yes, she'll be there when I'm gone.

Yes, she’ll be there when I'm gone. Dead sure she'll be there?”

On the coast line, Kaz had recovered from the blow, seemingly fine, save for a handful of bruises and a loud ringing in his ears. The crows had neared him, Jesper and Inej immediately working to keep the Dime Lions at a distance. Nina looked over the edge, still seeing the waves of where you had fallen earlier.

“Shit,” she cursed, before clumsily fumbling with the ends of her dress. Wylan and Matthias looked at her in a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. She didn’t seem to notice.

For Kaz, it felt like time had frozen. You had been with him ever since you were children. You’ve known him before Ketterdam - before Dirthands. And now you were sinking to the bottom of the canal, left to your fate in a lonesome embrace.

He had lost everything he had, and always associated it with the freezing temperatures of the lakes. He remember the chilling air, the cold water and the hard bodies of the people who had died due to illness. He remembered how he fought back until he had returned to Ketterdam. To look for you.

And now he’d lose you to those same damned waters.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

Turn the pages, turn the stone.

Behind the door, should I open it for you?”

Nina took too long. Wylan and Matthias might not have noticed, but he did. A thousand thoughts and fears were swirling his mind, but there was one that stood out the most.

He was losing you.

The thought seemed so hopeless and bitter, but it was the truth. He could stand there and think about everything that had happened to him, or he could act on it. He could wait for Nina to finally get that cursed dress off, or he could jump in himself and hope his body wouldn’t fail him.

You still hadn’t resurfaced.

Swinging his coat from his shoulders quickly, he dropped the cane to the floor, before diving into the waters, not even giving him a second to think everything through.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

Sick and tired, I stand alone.

Could you be there?

'Cause I'm the one who waits for you.

Or are you unforgiven too?”

The water was more horrible than he had remembered. The cold was gnawing at his skin, the familiarity of it cutting him where it hurt most.

This is where you lost him, Kaz. You lost yourself.

In front of him, a body passed him, the face almost an exact replica of his older brother, save for the swollen structures of his face. The sight frightened him. Almost automatically, he reached out, but the figure faded in front of him.

This wasn’t real. He wasn’t there.

He needed to get out. He couldn’t get any air to begin with, but the capacity his lungs had held had started to fail him. There were too many reminders of what went wrong. This was a terrible idea.

“Lay beside me, tell me what I've done.

The door is closed so are your eyes.

But now I see the sun, now I see the sun.

Yes, now I see it.”

He had to go back up. He wouldn’t make it if he didn’t. But then, as if fate had somehow still been smiling upon his that day, a hand came into his vision. He couldn’t see it really well - everything was blurry. But this hand wasn’t swollen. And it seemed real.

Spending his last few seconds, he tugged on the arm, surprised by the sudden weight of it. When he looked down, he found the culprit hanging from your coat, your other hand still entangled at the hole.

Without a second of hesitation, he shrugged the coat off of you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he swam back up.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

Turn the pages, turn the stone.

Behind the door, should I open it for you?”

It was disgusting; the cold temperature, your limp body, the inability to breathe. It was too much. He couldn’t help but fight for his hold on you as he forced you up. His leg had been screaming at him to stop to begin with, but with your body in his arms, a whole new level of revolting coursed through him.

This was so wrong. He should never have had to hold anyone’s body to drag out of the sea again. This was cruel, even considering all that he had been through. There was some sick irony here that he hated. He knew Pekka would be laughing at it.

You didn’t make any effort to help him. He had no way of telling whether he had been dragging a dead body back up or not. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about anything. He just needed to get back up.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

So sick and tired, I stand alone.

Could you be there?

'Cause I'm the one who waits,

The one who waits for you.”

When he finally resurfaced, a huge gasp of air came from him, taking in all oxygen he could.

“Kaz!” Nina called, leaning over the docks with Matthias, reaching out for him and you. They could see the sheer panic and terror on his face. The boy swam towards the pair, handing you over to Matthias, who easily pulled you out. Nina immediately began to work on getting the water out of you, leaving her boyfriend to help Kaz get out, much to his reluctance.

He could still feel the cold touch, the unmistakable feeling of a hardened figure. He recognised it. And the second his feet met solid ground again, he fell down, breathing heavily, dragging his knees across the dock to reach you.

He could hear Nina mutter assuring words under her breath - both to you and to herself. The way you simply laid there, not noticing the mayhem happening because of you. Something about it made everything worse for him.

He was not going to lose you. Not like this.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

Turn the pages, turn the stone.

Behind the door, should I open it for you? (So I dub thee unforgiven)”

A loud cough cut through the tense air as your chest suddenly began to move. Nina was quick to place you on your side, leaving you to cough out the remainder of water, inhaling the air greedily, tears making their way over your face. An obnoxious sigh of relief came from the heartrender as Kaz quietly copied her move.

He stood up at the sight of you getting rid of all the water in your lungs, the sight amplifying everything he had just experienced. Shakily, he accepted the cane from Wylan, using it to support his weight as he watched Nina kneel over you, trying to calm you down.

He needed to be the one to do that, to make you comfortable, even if he wasn’t. But he couldn’t. He was having a hard time keeping everything together in the moment. If it hadn’t been for his cane, he would’ve fallen straight back to the floor.

“What I've felt.

What I've known.

I'll take this key and I'll bury it in you.

Because you're unforgiven too.”

You watched him from your seat as you regained your breath, no more water coming from your mouth. The feeling in your stomach was still heavy, but you had no more need to cough everything back up.

You knew who had dragged you from the canal. You blacked out a moment after that gloved hand touched yours, but you knew who it was. You saw the way he was staring back at you, furiously blinking back tears, hoping no one had noticed. You saw the way his hands were clutching that cane as if his life depended on it. He didn’t want to be there.

But he had jumped into the canal after you had fallen in. He had dragged you from the bottom back up. He had gotten you onto the dock whilst he had sworn he would never get into touch with water if he could help it. And he might not have been able to place a comforting hand on your shoulder as Nina did, but you knew what he had done.

You just nodded at him, still in shock. Of the fall, or due to the fact Kaz dived in after you - you couldn’t tell. But when the boy nodded back, you knew it was enough.

You knew he’d do it over again if he had to.

“Never free, never me.

'Cause you're unforgiven too.”

[ziggyzolch]

Your Prettiness is Seeping Through II (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Warnings: maybe bungled the medical stuff and process of being admitted, suicidal ideation, aftermath, descriptions of self harm kind of? its not like currently happening. Bulimia and what comes with it. Those r the main things I think. Previous Chapter

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

-------the shame is manifest in my resistance------- ❅❅❅

“So they’re admitting you?”

You could feel the snow being crushed beneath your weight as you leaned back on your hands. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon and your best friend was sitting next to you on a random curb, taking the pack of cigarettes from your hand.

It was mid-winter. The city streets bustled with the cheer of festive Christmas decorations and the harmonies of carolers. It almost makes you feel better. You never cared for Christmas, or religion in general, but the joy in the little kids’ faces at the snow blanketing the streets, and the laughing of teenagers having snowball fights was cute.

It helped.

You sigh, turning towards your friend, “No, I don’t think so. Most that’ll happen is I’ll be in therapy, I guess.”

She rubs her hands together in an attempt to warm up, “I think I’d kill myself if I got caught. Kidding, you’ll be fine. Probably.”

You scoff, “Thanks,”

You snatched the pack from her hand, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

You had gotten over the fear of throat cancer a long time ago. It’s more of an expectation than a fear now. Smoking and purging at the same time kind of makes it an inevitability. The thought of death didn’t scare you. Not that you were cripplingly suicidal. You didn’t desperately want to die anymore, you just wouldn’t mind if you did. If you died from all of these habits, it was fine, great even. If not, whatever.

Passively suicidal.

Tomorrow, you’ll have your long awaited psych evaluation. You were shocked that it wasn’t the first thing they’d done. You weren’t that big of a risk anyways. A week has passed since your parents caught you, and you’d been made to take a number of medical tests to determine the severity of your bulimia, or something.

The first one was a general physical assessment, the most simple yet most uncomfortable. You had been made to wear a hospital gown, which you felt was overboard but whatever. They wouldn’t be able to admit you just based off of a BMI measurement, you were sure. You weren’t very underweight, most bulimics you knew weren’t. In fact, most of them were normal, sometimes overweight, but you just assumed it was because they were bad at it. You didn’t feel anything looking at your weight. Numbers mattered, sure, but with every binge and purge, your weight fluctuated like crazy, so you learned to just look for signs of weight loss via mirror.

She read your BMI out loud, you knew it wasn’t low enough to be a concern. You internally celebrated, until you noticed her eyes glancing down to your arm.

Shit.

Burning was your preferred method of self mutilation. Cutting was unsatisfying, messy, and a pain in the ass. Burns look disgusting when they heal though, which was the only downside. The scars are easily passable as cooking accidents and such. When they’re still healing, though, charred, blistered, and disgusting, they’re almost impossible to excuse. Your mom had caught you once, with your worst burn nonetheless. One offer of taking over the chores for the day and she was off your back, already taking her place on the sofa.

The burns weren’t fresh, not at all. Most of them were years old, but you panicked nonetheless. You’ve seen how batshit they get at any sign of self harm. You watched as she glanced towards your arm, then turned back to her clipboard, writing something down. Subtly moving your other arm behind your back, you cover up the bruises on your knuckles.

You also had to go to a dentist appointment. Last time you went, you had just gotten your braces off and permanent retainers in. You still have glue on the back of your teeth from when your top retainer broke, they had never gotten rid of it. With how often it fell off, you were glad the dentist had given up on putting in replacements.

You were more worried about this appointment than the physical assessment. You couldn’t keep food down, smiling with your eroded teeth was uncomfortable, and your breath was horrible. The dentist would definitely notice something, at the very least that you were a smoker. Your mother would hate that more than bulimia.

Honestly, despite all of these effects, you got the benefit of barely having a gag reflex. Which, now that you think about it, doesn’t really matter considering you don’t even like men.

Surprise was clear on your face when your dentist complimented you on the health of your teeth and sent you on your way.

You didn’t really know what the other tests were, something about heart arrhythmias and electrolytes. You didn’t care, you were so over it. It was all bullshit. You weren’t sad. You weren’t suicidal nor were you a danger to yourself or others. You were just bulimic, not on the brink of fucking brain collapse.

All of this was bullshit.

❅❅❅

Wanda’s senses come back one by one. Her ears pick up the soft whirring of machinery and occasional beeping of monitors. The soft footsteps of nurses and patients walking past, the opening and closing of a door as doctors enter, the scratching of their pens against their clipboard. The lingering scent of antiseptic reaches her nose, and the bitter taste in her mouth makes itself known. Her fingers pinch the stiff material of her gown, and she can feel the IV in her arm. Finally, she opens her eyes.

Waking up in the fiery depths of hell would’ve been better than where Wanda was right now. She mumbled curses under her breath as she looked around, taking in the hospital equipment around her.

“Natasha?” She croaked out when she caught sight of her friend sleeping on the hospital chair in the corner of the room. Natasha jumped up, wiping the drool off her chin and rushing towards Wanda. “Oh, thank god.” She sighed, pulling Wanda into an awkward hug.

She pulls back when she realizes Wanda wasn’t hugging her back. “How do you feel?” Wanda cringes at the pity on Natasha’s face. “Peachy.” She turns away, not stopping Natasha when she reaches to grab her hand.

The widow sighs, rubbing circles into Wanda’s hand, making her fingers twitch slightly. They sit in silence, not knowing what to say to each other. Wanda was glad Natasha had found her. She didn’t want to be found at all, but at least it was Natasha.

She was so stupid, so fucking stupid. Of course it wouldn’t have worked. She should’ve just shot herself in the head, like a man. She’d read somewhere that men have higher suicide rates because they carry it out in more extreme ways. Girls usually go for lighter, prettier deaths. Overdoses, slitting their wrists in a rose petal filled bathtub, and such. More survivable, and less of a burden for whoever cleans up after them. Men don't feel the same obligation. So what if it's more work for the cleaners? A shotgun to the head is easier for them, that's what matters. They don't think about how puffy their face would get if they hung themselves, or how awkward they'd be positioned on the ground if they jumped off a building. They don't think about the possibility of surviving afterwards and dealing with the deformity.

Pietro’s lifeless body flashes in her mind.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Wanda finally notices the iron grip she had on Natasha’s hand.

She didn’t want to talk about Pietro. Never. “What’s going to happen to me?”

Her friend looks away, “You’re suspended until you get help.”

“What! No!” Wanda sits up, snatching her hand out of Natasha’s grip, “This was the first time! Bruce tried to kill himself, why isn’t he suspended?”

“That was before he even joined.”

Wanda sighs, “So, what like, therapy for a week?”

Natasha raises her eyebrows, “Wanda, you tried to kill yourself. You need to be monitored.”

“I’m not a fucking child. Jesus, Nat!”

“It’s not up to me, Fury’s orders. Either get help or you’re fired, basically.”

“Don’t I need a psychological evaluation or some shit?”

“Wanda, you swallowed a whole bottle of whatever-the-fuck pills. I can evaluate you right now. You’re fucked in the head, babe.” Natasha attempts to joke.

She sighs in relief when Wanda huffs out a laugh, “So, you’re sending me to the loony bin?”

“Yup. It’ll be great though, perks of being an Avenger.” Natasha places a comforting hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

“How long will I be there?”

Natasha grabs Wanda’s hand that’s picking at her gown, “Until you’re better.”

The sound of a girl yelling stops their conversation.

❅❅❅

“Inpatient would be the best option…”

The ringing in your ears blocks out whatever the doctor was saying. What the fuck. You were not crazy. So what if you were bulimic. You didn’t constantly starve yourself and avoid food so you were chill, but you also were not getting fat, so you were hot. It’s like a win-win.

You’re sitting with your parents, a doctor across from you. He must be a therapist, or psychologist…psychiatrist? Potato, Tomato.

A hand on your shoulder brings you back to earth. Tears are pooling in your mothers eyes, your father is sighing into his hand. “What about my classes? My life!”

“Lower your voice. You aren’t being sent away to the fucking Alcatraz.” Your father grits out.

The doctor chimes in, “I’m sure you’ll be able to do your school work, most institutions let you have books and supervised computer time.”

You push your mothers hand off your shoulder. “Why are you doing this to me?”

She scoffs, “Me? Why are you doing this to yourself!”

“You can’t make me!” Passersby can hear your voice through the closed door of the office.

It was true, they couldn’t really. You were a legal adult, they couldn’t make you do shit. Your mother pinches the bridge of her nose before turning to your father expectedly. You look back and forth between them with an eyebrow raised.

“We won’t support you anymore if you don’t do this.” He finally pushes out.

“What? As if you’ve ever supported-”

Oh. Financially. College and such. Housing and such. Food…and such.

You’re not that level of adult, yet.

“What the fuck-”

“Language!”

“No! What the actual fuck! I’m not sick!”

Your father’s face contorts in anger, “Did you not hear a single word the doctor said? Your potassium levels, electrolytes, and heart are all fucked! You could have a heart attack!” He takes a breath,

“You are killing yourself.”

“What?” You don’t know what to say. Why is your heart beating so fast?

You let out a frustrated shriek, getting up to leave. They don’t know what they’re saying. You storm out of the office, narrowly avoiding passing nurses and stretchers, trying to ignore the sense of dread building within you.

Heart attacks were a lame death. You could imagine how stupid you'd look; jaw wide open, leaning back in your desk chair, clutching at your chest. The door to your room is always locked, so your parents wouldn’t care to check for a while. They’d just assume you were isolating yourself.

Stiffening up in that position, rotting and decomposing. So lame, so ugly.

It didn’t scare you.

Your head ricocheting off a wall interrupts your spiral.

Natasha winces, peaking over the door to find you on the floor, rubbing your head. Wanda had asked her to check what was going on, and you happened to be passing by at the same time she opened the door. You push yourself off the floor before Natasha could help you up. Black spots appear in your vision and you start swaying. You must’ve stood up too fast.

Natasha holds you up as you fall into her for a second, before you regain your bearings.

“Get off me!”

She lets go immediately, raising an eyebrow when you double-take at the sight of Wanda.

‘She’s so skinny.’

Wanda looks up at you, confused when she takes you in. You could’ve been the same weight as her, if not a little more. She doesn’t read people's thoughts if she can help it, but yours were so loud. You blush when she makes eye contact with you, turning and stomping away.

Your footsteps fade as Natasha closes the door, making her way back to Wanda. The widow smiles at Wanda, poking her side, “I think she has a crush on you.” Wanda’s eyes widen, “No way; she said I was skinny.” Natasha tilts her head, “Like in a disgusted way?” The witch looks down at her hands.

She assumed it was envy at first, but you didn’t look like you weighed significantly more than her. Nor was it disgust, based off of how you looked at her.

“Not…really. I don’t know.”

Natasha sighs, “Well, it doesn't matter. We’ll fatten you up in no time.”

She winces at Wanda’s obviously forced laugh.

She didn’t like being skinny, but it was an effect of her depression. It wouldn’t be that easy to reverse. The only reason she was open to this treatment was so that she could go back to work. She’ll just pretend to get better, go back, and work until she can’t take it anymore. Next time, she’ll use a gun. Actually, would she subconsciously stop the bullet with her powers? The pills almost killed her, maybe she’d just lock her door next time. She could pick up smoking, maybe that’d be like a backup. A slow, eventual death could be happening in the background while she found short term options. Multitasker.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Wanda is taken out of her reverie as Natasha pokes at her stomach again. She smiles, shaking her head and curling up into the bed. The older redhead pats her shoulder, “The squad’s going to visit before you leave. Just thought I’d give you a heads up.”

Wanda groans, she didn’t need any more people up her ass.

She stiffens at the sound of sniffling, looking up when she feels her shoulder dampen.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

Natasha leans over her frame, hair masking her face. The brunette stammers, racking her brain for a reply. She’d never seen Natasha so emotional. It was like hearing Steve use slang.

She sighs, curling further into herself and ignoring Natasha. She wishes she could reassure her. Tell her that even the thought of trying again made her nauseous, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t live the rest of her life seeing her brother's corpse every time she blinks.

Living with the memory of Pietro’s death for the rest of her life was worse than any torture she’d ever endured.

She ignores the flashing images as her eyes drift close, falling asleep to the sound of Natasha’s sniffling.

❅❅❅

A/N: I lowk regret writing in in second person but yolo. reply to this post if u wanna get tagged in the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @mathxa @nikkinss

[pjmparadise]

3:23 am (don’t go, stay) Pt 1 || JJK

Pairing: jungkook x f! original character

Word count: 12.1k

Genre(s): fluff, romance, strangers to lovers, slight angst if you squint; neighbor au, pre-debut Jungkook au, pre-debut au, comic book artist Jungkook au, apartment au, neighbor au

Warnings: cursing, mentions of jungkook’s penis (yeah yeah... he sleeps naked ofc), brief injury (jk hurts himself bc he’s a dork); descriptions of anxiety and fear (jungkook is scared for a sec, oops); nudity mentions, jungkook is a little horny (what can I say....), jungkook gets a hard on lol; he’s also down bad pathetic crushing and is super clumsy, and brief mentions of home robberies (lol this feels random, but it isn’t I swear), very heavily dialogue based

Audience: 18+ (minors, DNI!)

Summary: Jungkook has had a couple of awkward run-ins with his pretty upstairs neighbor, who he may or may not be secretly pining over, and one night, she pays him an unexpected visit.

“My patio, though. Did you fall? I heard a thud.”

“Are you flirting with me? I’ve heard that pickup line before, but yours sounds a little different.”

He smiles. “I wouldn’t use pickup lines like those with you.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A/N: WOOO! my first jungkook fic!! We recently got his birth time, and thus this title was born lol! I’ve been working on this baby for a few months now, and it’s finally finished!! After a long time of contemplating, i decided to make our female character an original character, and i know it’s kind of a rare thing in the community, but i felt it worked best with my story. It’s been a bumpy ride with this one since it’s my first lengthy fic (over 12k words... sheesh!) that will be a part of a short series. I’m very excited and a little nervous, but if you’re here, I’m glad to have you here. Thank you for giving my work a shot <3 (ps. italics indicate jungkook’s inner thoughts as well as flashbacks)

a big thank you to my lovely beta’s: @cherrysoulth @the-boy-meets-evil​ and @jeonjcngkook​ you’ve all helped me shape my fic and have been so helpful, and I am so so grateful. truly. seriously. thank you for brainstorming with me, for reading my work, and for being so sweet and so supportive.

a special thank you to @itaeewon​ for the lovely banner! I love it so so much &lt;3

Jungkook is awake to hear the sound of a muffled thud nearby.

His bedroom is dark and silent save for the alarm clock resting on a bedside table flashing bright red numbers at him. ‘It’s late, it’s late, you should be asleep,’ the time says. Jungkook shuts his eyes, groaning and rubbing a hand over his face. “I know, fuck, I know,” he mutters. He’s fully naked, lying on his back, eyes wide open and boring into the ceiling, blanket kicked off to the side, and arms folded behind his neck–still remembering a phone conversation with Namjoon earlier in the day.

“So she walked toward the elevator as it closed, and you didn’t open it for her?” Namjoon scoffs over the phone, shaking his head and clicking his tongue to show he’s disappointed. He knows Jungkook froze, Jungkook already told him he wanted to reach out and push the button for her, but Namjoon asked again anyway—he likes to give him a hard time. “Every time you see this girl, things just kind of go wrong. I’ve noticed.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a sigh. “I’ve noticed too. Is it a sign? Should I give up?” In his apartment, he sat curled up on his couch, his chin on his kneecaps. He’s fallen silent in thought.

“No, nothing like that. Maybe she didn’t get to see it was you, so she thinks it was someone else, or maybe she doesn't even think about it anymore. You know, like things that happen in your day you forget about later unless something reminds you of it?”

“Yes!” Jungkook relaxed, falling back against the couch with a hand over his forehead. “That probably is what’s going on. She went on with her day; other things have to happen, right?”

Namjoon was quiet. In his apartment, he was opening mail and reading over a proposal he was meant to sign soon. A project he hasn’t mentioned to anyone else, Namjoon folds the letter and sets it aside. “Sorry, yes. Yes, don’t worry too much. It will ruin your day. I mean that. Sorry for the pause. I just opened some mail.”

“Ah, okay. Well, you’re right.” Jungkook rose from his seat then. “Namjoon-hyung?”

Namjoon nodded even though he couldn’t be seen. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. I don’t know if I say that enough, but you’re always helping and guiding me when I don’t even realize I need it.”

“Thank you, Jungkook. Finish your comic tonight, and submit it tomorrow. I know you’ll place in the contest and do well. You haven’t scrapped it have you?”

Jungkook sighed. Rubbing his eyelids, walking distractedly around his living room, he spoke with his eyes closed. “I have it. I finished it; I just don’t feel too good about posting it, even with the pseudonym; it feels like too much. Too much with what we already have going on as a group even. We’re trying to do something together, and the comic stuff is just… I don’t know. I don’t want it to distract me.”

Namjoon was on his back patio, leaning over the railing and looking out at the park across from him. “Jungkook, I’m going to tell you something and think about it however you want to. I respect your life, but I think—and these are just my opinions. I think you doubt yourself too often and need to take some chances. Luck turns out; it does.” Namjoon folds his arms over the railing, leaning his body against it. “No rush, bro. At all. The music we’re trying to pursue, it’s not going anywhere, you know?”

Jungkook nodded from his living room.

“Like, okay, look.” Namjoon fixed his gaze on a flock of birds rising from the trees. “The guys, we all have our passions. Yoongi with his piano, Jimin is passionate about his dancing, Taehyung with his instruments, Jin and his gaming, and Hoseok he’s been designing his own clothes lately; with me, you know I like poetry and painting, but we all share music. That is for the team, for a part of us, but we each have so many parts. You like art and storytelling; your comics are so cool, bro. You love watching Taehyung practice the trumpet, and Jimin dance after practice. We like to see you pursue your other dreams too.  Pursue it, and don't worry about the group, is all I ask.”

Jungkook almost cried. He stopped pacing. His heart was racing; it was all he had heard momentarily. If Namjoon were there in front of him, he’d hug him. Maybe he’d even cry. “Ah, Namjoon-hyung…” he swallowed hard at the saliva in his throat, blushing. ‘Namjoon always knows what to say,’ he thought. “I will think about it. I will set an alarm, just in case. I’ll decide in the morning, you know it’s my style to do that the day of. If I think about it now, it will be like this all day, and I’ll stress too much.”

“Good, then. Just think about it.” Namjoon smiled.

Jungkook lies motionless with his eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, mouthing along to Namjoon’s words. “We like to see you pursue your other dreams too.  Pursue it, and don't worry about the group, is all I ask.” He sighs. How could he not worry about the guys? He’s twenty-five. Most idols start out much younger, and the mandatory enlistment is already so near for his hyungs. It’s bad timing, is all. My comic book can wait.

He wants to sleep, so he turns over, laying flat on his stomach, facing his wall. Resting his full body weight on his flaccid penis is slightly uncomfortable, but he ignores it. It’s the type of restless night that he has no chance up against, and even with his eyes closed, he feels painfully awake. Jungkook is thinking of her again—her pretty smile, the pink sundress she wore in the elevator, her ability to look him in the eyes and not shy away—and it’s almost like she's here, in the same room with him. He pictures the sundress again, the way it clung to her frame, highlighting every curve. Man, I want her. He shifts his hips around, surprising himself with a massive erection.

The thud strikes again suddenly, and he sits up, alarmed. Shit, is that here? Like outside my apartment? Jungkook squints in the darkness, bringing a hand to the nightstand to fetch his glasses. Any sign of arousal is now extinguished.

“Bam?” He calls out in a sluggish voice.  The clock beside him flashes bright red numbers at him. 3:23. “Ah, shit,” Jungkook mumbles, turning the clock away. A sound he can’t distinguish comes from his left, directly outside his bedroom. “It’s like home alone,” he says to no one.

Jungkook rests his head against the wall, the texture cold against his feverish face. He can hear the sound of a muffled conversation. “Shit, that’s right here, right outside,” he mumbles, stepping back. He reaches over mechanically to switch on the lamp beside him.

Now, Jungkook is painfully aware of his nakedness and frenetically searches for bottoms to change into. He’s thinking about how his legs don’t feel like his own as he walks to the chair by the door, where he sees basketball shorts. It’s like sleepwalking. Even though he’s awake, Jungkook feels as though he might’ve actually fallen asleep, and this is some strange anxiety dream he’s creating to cope with his qualms about submitting his comic. Still, he goes along with it, quietly changing into the shorts, walking out into his living room, and ducking his head when he passes the glass patio door.

Cursing under his breath, annoyed at himself for forgetting to throw on a shirt, Jungkook shakes his head at himself. I don't want to fight an intruder shirtless and commando in basketball shorts, damn... A part of him feels a rush of adrenaline as he crouches behind a potted plant and, chewing on his lower lip, fantasizes about a robbery gone wrong, one where he puts his boxing skills to the test—the other part of him wants this to be a dream, a sign from the universe that he ought to submit his comic. I’ll fucking do it if I survive this.

Jungkook stays like that for a while until he hears a sound again. Rising from his crouched position, he walks toward the back patio window, pulling back the curtain to peer out. He feels a tightness in his chest, and his hands tremble slightly. A shameful part of him is relieved that he’s alone and no one is around to see how shaken up he is.

He whistles quietly, calling to Bam, forgetting his brother is watching over him tonight. Craning his neck, he glances around his balcony patio and sees nothing. “Bam, come here,” his whispering is frantic. He whistles again, patting his leg lightly. Nothing. You’re okay. It’s nothing. It’s probably the cats again tipping over the plants. Just fix it tomorrow. Now, go back to bed. You need it. Jungkook is about to whistle once more when he remembers. His eyebrows knit together; shaking his head, he places his fingertips on his eyelids, murmuring a lamented, “Ah.”

Thinking better of it, he draws the curtain back again and sighs with relief before taking note of a figure crouched behind a chair with a hand shooting up to rub their head. Panic washes over him. His inner monologue consists of a string of every curse word he can think of as he ducks out of view. Fuck, fuck, fuck, that’s a person. If he’d been scared earlier, now he’s downright petrified.

Desperate, he begins to look around the room for a weapon. Anything. Jungkook stands still, breathing in heavy gulps of air, cradling his head as he adjusts his vision to the darkness of the living room. ‘Can’t even turn a fucking light on,’ he thinks as he drops to the ground and crawls around his living room. His home’s silence unsettles him. Jungkook can hear the nothingness aside from his ragged breathing, so he pinches the skin on his arm and hisses at the sharp pain. Okay, real life it is. His bare knees skid against the hard flooring, and his clammy palms slip beneath him; his heart is thudding hard and fast, the blood pooling between his ears. He’s scowling, chewing his lower lip, his chest heaving as he fumbles a hand under the couch; he fingers a cold object and remembers what it is. Aha! He comes up with a golf club Taehyung left behind a few nights ago. I love you, Taehyung!

Jungkook grips the golf club until his knuckles take on a pale color. Having a weapon gives him a newfound sense of security, and like before, he’s fantasizing about kicking someone’s ass. “You come to my house at three in the morning? My house?” he says as he walks through his living room, rolling his shoulders.

He draws the curtain again, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness; he sees the figure facing away from him and hunching over, a phone glowing against their face. He can call the police, and he almost wants to, but to avoid the drama of a police visit at three in the morning, he decides against it. Imagine the guys find out I called the police? He shudders at the thought. The stranger looks small anyway.

Jungkook reaches for the doorknob and pulls back the door. It’s a lot chillier than he’d anticipated. He folds his arms over his bare chest instantly, the skin covered in goosebumps—his teeth chatter of their own accord.

“Don't move!” He raises the golf club in a mid-swing position, ready to strike. The person shifts around, holding up the hand with the phone. “I said, ‘Don’t move’!” He sounds ridiculous, but he doesn't care. In the shadows, he watches the phone’s glow shut off. “I called the police, so don’t try anything. They’re on the way.” His voice doesn't even sound like his own. He takes a few steps toward the stranger, his grip tightening around the golf club. His heart feels heavy in his chest.

It’s hard to make out the features of this person, but they rise, walk toward the dim light spilling from the neighbor’s window, and he can see them now. The stranger looks straight at him, and he’s met with wide eyes staring at him. She’s standing, squinting at him with a hand on her hip, and she smiles wide. Damn! If this were an animation, she’d have a halo effect.

Jungkook has seen her a total of seven times—he can’t help it; he likes to keep track of these things. It’s his upstairs neighbor, their interactions before tonight being brief and in passing (the most recent engraved in his mind and tormenting him), and he’s thought of her tirelessly and has fantasized about a time they should meet, and things go well for a change.

Jungkook doesn't know her name, but he could recognize those beautiful dark eyes anywhere. He’s looking into them now, his body anchored, mouth turning into sawdust.

She’s talking to him; he’s just not listening. Not really. He can't grasp the reality that it’s actually her, and she’s standing on his patio, and she looks so beautiful. Should he be thinking that?

Her long black hair is in a loose ponytail, her eyebrows arch as her deep dark eyes blink at him, and her lips move. “Please tell me you didn't really call the cops,” she says, bursting through his trance.

Damn, I sounded so stupid! Jungkook blushes. He hopes she can’t tell from where she stands.

“I was trying to call my friend; I swear I was not snooping or breaking in.” She smiles, but her voice sounds worried. Her eyebrows furrow like she’s trying to read him. “Honest,” she says in a small voice as she leans on the railing and raises her hand with the cell phone for emphasis.

She’s wearing a dark gray sweatshirt twice her size and sandals with white socks, and he can’t tell if she’s wearing shorts or if the sweatshirt is all. He can feel his face reddening just from the possibility of her nakedness underneath the sweatshirt, so he decides not to focus on that.

Jungkook rubs the nape of his neck, abashed. The cold air surrounds him, and he folds his arms across his chest, remembering his exposed chest. His empty threat echoes and bounces around in his head, and he looks away from her. “I didn't call the cops, sorry. I didn't know what else to say. It’s what they say in movies.”

“You would be right anyway; this is your patio.” She laughs a little at that, and his heart rate picks up. She pushes herself away from the railing, smiling, and walks toward him with an outstretched hand. Her nail polish is glittery, and he doesn't notice, but this small detail makes him smile. “I’m Rei. I live upstairs. Maybe you’ve seen me before.” There’s a coy look on her face as she says this, and it makes him nervous.

So her name is Rei!!! Fireworks set off, exploding behind Jungkook’s wide eyes.

“Huh, maybe,” Jungkook lies. He shakes her hand slowly, his hand enveloping hers entirely, the contact sending a warm shock through his body.

“Maybe a few days ago,” she says, with a finger to her chin, like she’s thinking over something. “Oh, yes, have I seen you on the elevator?”

“The elevator?” He feigns innocence as he tongues his lip ring anxiously. “That’s strange. Every day is a blur for me.”

“For me, too,” she replies. She’s almost smirking, watching Jungkook lie. He can tell she’s caught him. “You just look sooo familiar.”

“That’s a first.” Still, he denies it.

“Maybe you just look like someone I’ve seen,” she says, looking into his eyes as if searching for something she placed there. “You have one of those faces, you know?”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows, lips parted to speak, but nothing comes out. 

Is she flirting with me or giving me a hard time? DAMN!

“I have an ordinary face?” Jungkook wonders after a moment.

“Either that or my memory is failing me,” she says, sighing and shaking her head. “Which do you think it is?”

“I don't have an ordinary face,” Jungkook says in a small voice, “I have piercings on my face.”

“That’s true…” she’s watching the ground and suddenly looks into his eyes again. She holds his stare unblinking, and then her lips pull back into a big smile showing off cute bunny teeth. Just like me. “I’ve always had a good memory; I was just kidding.”

“Oh,” Jungkook says, blushing.

He can smell her perfume when a cold breeze blows past him, carrying her real-life presence and enveloping him in it. It’s sweet and mixed with a scent of detergent he recognizes, and he’s watching how strands of her hair float beside her face. She’s so cute. Damnnnn.

“You should open the door for the ladies,” Rei says, raising an eyebrow, and stepping closer, she says, “Just harmless advice. Stranger .”

“I will consider that,” he replies, avoiding her fixed stare, attempting to ignore how she’s riled him up with a loud clearing of his throat. But his chest is on fire, his heart thudding hard against his rib cage at her closeness. “My patio, though. Did you fall? I heard a thud.”

“Are you flirting with me? I’ve heard that pickup line before, but yours sounds a little different.”

He smiles. “I wouldn’t use pickup lines like those with you.”

She laughs, and he internally swoons. If he were a cartoon, his heart would burst out of his chest in comical dramatic thuds, his pupils heart-shaped.

“I’m kidding. I know I’m giving you a hard time when I’m on your patio at three in the morning, but I can explain why I’m here,” Rei mimics Jungkook’s movements by crossing her arms across her chest, her lower lip trembling, “but can I come in? It’s cold out, and I'm in the worst attire for this weather.” She gestures vaguely at her exposed legs, and Jungkook’s stare lingers before she notices—so he responds with a nod as he gestures for her to follow him inside. “Though you might have me beat. You came out here without a shirt, damn.”

Leading the way, he blushes at her comment and gives his head a light shake. She’s so talkative! Yoongi was right about her.

With a dreamy air about him, he remembers Namjoon’s words. Except now, all he remembers is: “You need to take some chances. Luck turns out; it does.”

Inside, Jungkook excuses himself to his room to change into a shirt. He reaches for his glasses beside his bed and goes to the closet. “Shirt, shirt, shirt,” he mutters as his hands sift through empty hangers. When was the last time he did laundry? He groans. “Shirt?” he reaches to pick up a heap of white clothing in the deep corner of the closet. He brings the shirt to his nose, sniffs, and walks back into the room, raising an eyebrow and nodding with approval. His hands are shaky as he maneuvers his head through a t-shirt sleeve in a panicked rush. He yanks the shirt off again, the t-shirt now inside out and knotted up in his grip; he groans as his fingers work the fabric. What if she’s gone when I go back out there? Agh, what if I’m dreaming all of this up, and lack of sleep is finally getting to me?

Rei’s voice comes through the walls, and though this is their first official meeting, he knows she’s smiling as she calls out to him. “You okay in there?”

Smoothing out the wrinkles on the shirt, he glances at his reflection behind the bedroom door before stepping out, his chest heaving and his nostrils flaring. “I’m okay; all is OK. Sorry.” He offers her a thumbs up and a big goofy grin that makes her laugh.

“Did you go on a hike without me?” She asks from her seat on his couch. She rests her face on her palm, looking up at him as he walks past toward the kitchen.

“Hike? I just put the shirt on; it was fighting me, though.”

“No, I meant,” she shakes her head, laughing. “I meant that as a while for changing into a shirt. Bad joke, sorry.”

“Ah,” Jungkook says.

“You’re wearing glasses,” she comments, her eyes looking over his face.

“I am,” he says, glancing her way.

It looks like she wants to say something else but doesn't.

He raises his eyebrows, nodding and tonguing the inside of his cheek. It doesn't happen often, but he doesn't know what to say. He walks into the kitchen with his hands in his pockets. “Do you drink tea?” He wonders as he fills a kettle with water and sets it to boil.

Rei nods, stretching her legs before her and craning her neck back to look up at the ceiling. “Chamomile or whatever you have, I’m not picky.” She points a finger above her head, motioning for him to look. “Those are stars. Is this wallpaper? It looks pretty. Is it glow-in-the-dark?”

Jungkook is in the kitchen, his eyes watching how her finger moves in a swift motion of the length of the ceiling. He thinks about how her hand felt in his grip and wishes he’d been more present. “It’s… I don’t know, actually. It’s not a wallpaper; it’s carved into the ceiling, and yes, it glows but not like the bright green; it’s softer.” He looks at her, and she scrunches her eyebrows in confusion. “Want to see?”

She twists her body to look at him, her smile so big he can’t help but return the affection. “Yes. Show me.”

“Grab the remote beside you; turn off the lights with it.”

She clicks the lights off, and the gasp she lets out makes his heart flutter in his chest. Aside from the hard thudding in his chest, the only sounds nearby are the buzzing of the refrigerator, the ice machine rolling out handfuls of freshly carved-out cubes, and the bubbling water in the kettle. Jungkook doesn't dare disturb the quiet; he’s leaning against the kitchen table, wanting her to stay. He looks for her in the dark, his eyes finding her silhouette on the couch, his lips pulling back into a smile. She’s better than in his daydreams; she smells sweet and of detergent, and she feels like a real person just like him, so near but out of his reach. And here, in the same room as him, so close to him, Jungkook realizes she could’ve left by now but hasn’t.

“I’d love it if I had this on my ceiling,” Rei pouts, “want to trade?” She clicks the lights back on, and Jungkook blinks, slowly adjusting to the brightness.

He pretends to mull it over, humming and tonguing his cheek. He puts on his best-thinking face. “No way, but you can come over and look at the stars when it's overcast or raining outside.” He walks toward the stove, where the water boils in the kettle. With his back turned to her, he’s hiding his blushing face as he sets two cups out before him.

“I think that sounds nice,” she replies, surprising him. “So what, I walk outside sometime, see a gray sky, and come downstairs to see you? ‘Hey, neighbor, can I see the stars?’ and you say, ‘Come in, I’ve just made cocoa, would you like some?’ and I say, ‘Thank you, are you sure?’ and then you say, ‘Sure’ except I never leave because I like the stars so much and you don’t know how to tell me I should go home.”

“Oh, that’s a good conversation. Is that what you’d like me to make? I like hot cocoa,” Jungkook says, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “You think I'd want you to leave?”

“Well, if I were here all the time….” she looks at him through her lashes, and he catches her eyes and raises an eyebrow at her, a playful smirk on his lips. And she shakes her head, laughing. “Do you mean it, though?”

“About you coming to see the stars whenever you’d like?” Jungkook asks, leaning against the kitchen island. She nods at him in two slow motions of her head. “Yes, I mean it.”

“The skies are unusually gray these days, aren’t they?”

“I’ve noticed that too,” he says, opening the fridge. He grabs a box of cherries and shuts the door with his elbow. “But no rain.”

“Exactly, I told my friend Kimi; she lives with me upstairs and is almost a sister to me, except we have different parents. Well, I told her, ‘Haven't you noticed how it looks like it’s going to rain every day, but it never does?’ and she says, ‘Rei, it rains. It just happens to be when you’re asleep,’ and can you believe it? I woke up yesterday, and it was early, not like tonight, but early for me, and I looked outside my window, and there was dew sticking to the glass, and it was all sweaty when I touched the windowpane, and I realized she was right, it rained during the night, and I just missed it. Isn't that something so lame?”

“Huh,” Jungkook says, chewing on a cherry and offering the box to her. She shakes her head no and mouths a ‘Thank you’ to him. “So we’re off asleep and just missing the rain, so it always works out that we’re missing out on something during the day. It’s always like that. Kimi sees the rain, and you’re off sleeping, but you probably get to see other things I miss when I’m taking a nap and on and on.”

“That’s true. But I thought about catching it tonight. When I went to bed hours ago, I kept thinking about the rain and wondering if I stayed up, I might see it, and it wouldn’t just feel like I kept missing it and living the same gray day.”

“It’s like Santa Claus,” Jungkook says, scrunching his nose as he tongues a cherry stem in his mouth, “waiting up all night for him to show up just for you to see your dad dressed up as Santa and realize he’s been putting the presents down there for years.”

Rei laughs at this and covers her face with her hands like she’s protecting her laugh from anything sharp. “Your dad did that? For real?”

Jungkook scrunches his eyebrows and pinches his nose bridge, and with a tone of feigned affliction, he says, “Yeah, he did. I knew the truth before a lot of my classmates.”

“How old were you? When he ruined Santa Claus. Do you remember a thing like that, like how old you were?” She rests her chin on her palm like she’s weighing her head. He thinks she looks cute like that but doesn’t say anything.

“I don't know exactly, but I was in the third year of school,” Jungkook says, suddenly thinking back on his infancy. He chews his lower lip when the answer suddenly comes to him, and he remembers the conversation he had with the guys a while back. They’d all taunted Seokjin when they found out Seokjin didn't know the truth about Santa until he was thirteen. “I was seven. I can't believe I remembered that. I was seven….” His mouth hangs open, and he remembers what he wore when he first saw his dad hunched over behind the tree with a gift in hand— a white flannel pajama set and his mother’s slippers. Where has this memory been hiding?  “Damn.”

“I was six,” she says, smiling. “My childhood was ruined a year before yours. Or wait, are we the same age? I just assumed we were.” She laughs again, bringing a hand up to her face to hide her smile.

“I assumed the same thing,” Jungkook admits, feeling his cheeks redden. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Oh wow,” she says, almost to herself. “Me too.”

He doesn't know what else to do but clear his throat and nod.  He never imagined getting this far (whatever that means). He’ll struggle to explain this later when Namjoon asks—Jungkook knows he’ll ask.

The kettle begins to whistle, and he’s reaching for the two coffee mugs as she says something behind him he doesn't catch. And he turns his head over his shoulder and nods at her. “What happened? Sorry, I didn't catch that.”

“I said, ‘You don't have to do that for me.’” She turns her head away as she says this, her long hair cascading along her profile, hiding her.

“I have a visitor,” he says, turning over to look at her with a grin. “I have good manners.”

“Oh, sure, manners,” she replies, rolling her eyes at him like a friend he’s known for years. “Is that my tea? It smells amazing.”

“It is, but it’s hot, so let’s leave it here.” Jungkook offers her a tight-lipped smile, shyly making his way toward her. “Mind if I sit next to you?”

“No, not at all; come, sit.” She pats the spot beside her and scoots over to make room for him. “Thank you for the tea and for letting me in. I know it’s late.”

Jungkook glances at the clock on the kitchen stove. 3:55. “It’s not that late. I was awake anyway, so I didn’t mind.” He’s toying with his lip ring again. “Why were you out there anyway?”

It’s been some time since Jungkook’s been this close to a girl. He feels his heart thudding away in his chest, her presence stirring up a desire that’s been dormant. Loose strands of hair frame her face, and his eyes follow her movements as she brushes the strands away. She looks embarrassed, her cheeks reddening. Still, he finds her so cute. “Truth?”

“Yes.” He scrunches his nose when he smiles at her.

“I locked myself out of my apartment. Before bed, I stepped out into my patio for a smoke and to read more of my book. I was also trying to test my rain suspicions to see if I could catch it while it happened. So, I’m out there romanticizing my life, pretending I’m in a movie; you know how we act when we’re alone and suddenly want to be poetic?” She looks at Jungkook, and he nods lightly. “That was me, except I got cold right away and said, ‘Oh fuck this, I’m going to bed,’ and that’s when I realized I’d locked the back door, and I was so mad I almost cried.” She places her fingertips against her forehead, continuing her recounting. “So, of course, I get the idea of calling a locksmith, but they’re closed; I don’t know what people should do if they need help during the night.”

“Most people sleep, I think.”

She clicks her tongue. “Right, some people do, but you and I are not those people, right?” She draws an imaginary line with her forefinger from her chest toward him. He nods and feigns oblivious as his leg brushes against her bare thigh as she shifts in her seat. “So, not only is every locksmith not available, but my service is horrible, so I am standing on my tiptoes trying to get a bar, and my phone slips. My heart almost burst.” She brings a hand to her chest for visual effect, and his eyes watch her chest as it rises and falls with each breath. He’s smiling at her—a wide smile that hurts his cheeks. “If it weren’t for your patio, my phone would be shattered to hell on the ground. I look over my balcony, and for the first time, I notice how close our balconies are.” Rei presses her hands over her thighs, leaning forward in her seat and fixing her eyes on the glass patio door across from her. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I don’t go out there much. Anyway, I’m rambling. I noticed I could jump directly into your patio because there’s a mattress out there, and well….” She makes a motion with her hands that says: ‘ Ya know?’

“You weren’t scared of jumping? The balconies are close, but we’re still six stories up.” Jungkook rests his hands on his knees, fully invested in this story; his eyes never leave her. She forms a tight line with her lips and gives him a serious look that makes him laugh. “Ok, so you were scared.”

“I was scared! But there’s a mattress out there, you know,” she says in a small voice. She’s blushing and scratching at the side of her nose to avoid his eyes.

Jungkook notices this and clicks his tongue, leaning back in his seat.  “So it was not an accident, then?” He raises an eyebrow at her, sucking his teeth in feigned disapproval.

The truth is, he’s not mad about it; he wants her here. He almost feels like he is in a dream.

“Not entirely. Don’t ask me how I thought about returning to my place after retrieving my phone because I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“Oh, there’s a mattress out there. You could’ve just slept there; no big deal,” Jungkook says with a laugh. Rei brings a hand to her face to hide behind, making a groaning sound. “I’m sorry; I don’t mean to laugh at you. I just don't know what to think— this has never happened before.”

“And it won’t happen again; let’s hope.” She laughs, and it’s different from before; it sounds deeper like she reached into herself and decided to really show him. And Jungkook likes the sound of her laugh but does not comment. She moves a few strands of hair from her face and rests her cheek on her hand, leaning on the couch's armrest. It’s slowly dawning on Jungkook how badly he wants her. What am I supposed to do with her this close to me? Damn. “So, what’s your name? You didn’t say when I told you mine.”

He rises from the couch, remembering their tea.

“Jeon Jungkook,” he says as he pours the tea, “I guess I forgot to introduce myself. Huh.”

Rei’s looking at him with her chin in her hand and a serious look on her face as he’s walking toward her with an outstretched hand in offering. “It’s chamomile,” Jungkook announces.

“Jeon Jungkook,” She repeats with a light smile. “I like it. I don’t know any other Jungkooks.”

“Yeah? I’ve had this name for a long time. I like it too.”

She takes the cup and brings it to her face, inhaling the scent and shivering, and says, “Thank you again. This tea smells sweet. It reminds me of this tea my grandmother used to make my sister and me when we were kids. She would put a little bit of honey, the real kind, and peppermint leaves; it was….” She sighs longingly. “I miss that tea; this smells like home.”

Sitting beside her, he takes a sip of tea, his gaze on her unmoving. Her lips part as she blows gently, the steam rising from the cup in lazy strokes. Jungkook’s heartbeat quickens when she matches his stare with her deep dark eyes that seem to look for something in his.

“This tea has honey, but I doubt it’s the real kind you mentioned, but I still think it’s good.” He clears his throat, looking away as he adjusts his glasses on his nose bridge.

“I like your glasses. I wanted to say that earlier,” Rei comments, taking a sip of her tea, “I don't know why I didn't say anything.” She moves around in her seat, tucking her legs beneath her, then asks, “Can I wear them? Are they prescription?”

“They’re just reading glasses. You can wear them. I put them on sometimes just because they suit me,” he pulls his glasses off, wipes the lenses on his shirt, and hands them over.

“Ah, so you like how they look on you,” she says, her eyes gleaming as she takes the glasses from him and sets them on her face. “How do they look?”

If he were a cartoon character from one of his comics, he’d have melted into a puddle, exploded like dynamite, turned into stardust, and returned to his original self. Except, she’s a real person just like he is, flesh and blood and so beautiful, and he’s off in space being reborn.

“Look at me,” he motions for her to turn his way. She looks straight at him, wearing his glasses and blushing at his attention. She begins to unfold in front of him, her playful demeanor softening. “You look pretty. If they weren't my prescription, I would give them to you.”

“Here, they’re hurting my eyes,” she says, laughing. She removes the glasses and starts rubbing her eyes with closed fists. “You’re sweet, though. I couldn't take a guy’s glasses. How will he go on drinking his tea and letting me in to watch the stars?”

Jungkook feels a warmth spread in his chest. God, how is she real? He runs his fingers through his long hair and coughs once, then again. His nerves are getting to him. She’s too close to him, her bare thigh soft against his leg. He begins to count backward in his head.

“Were you really awake already, or did I wake you?” She asks him all of a sudden. Her eyes stay on him as if waiting for him to say something else.

“You don’t believe me? I was awake. Swear.” He raises his free hand at his side.

She appears to mull that over for a bit, bringing her cup of tea to her lips but not taking a sip. “What were you doing?”

Jungkook is silent, and she sits unmoving until he speaks.

What was I doing? Besides dreading another deadline? Thinking about a comic I might not submit or thinking about not having a shot in hell with a girl like you? Images of the times they’ve run into each other flick by in his head like a slow PowerPoint slide. The registration office, desolate stairwells, crowded evacuations, elevators closing, Rei standing in front of him in a summer dress with a strange look on her face; Rei on his back patio, hunched over with a phone near her face; Rei in his apartment, on his couch, next to him. He feels the adam’s apple in his throat rising and falling. He’s been quiet for who knows how long.

“Thinking, I guess.” He breathes out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I don’t know why I took so long to say that. It sounded boring in my head, so I had to think if there was something else I forgot about.”

“That is pretty boring, just thinking. But that’s life, though, isn’t it? Kind of boring sometimes.”

Jungkook nods, blushing and avoiding looking at her. What if she can read minds? He straightens his posture and runs his fingers through his hair again, his eyes fixed on the ceiling of carved-out stars. It’s OK. It’s OK. She’s still here.

The living room is almost dead silent. Jungkook notices how Rei sips her tea and looks over the area. It’s neat, for the most part. Bam’s toys lay scattered near the laundry room entrance, along with some of Jungkook’s dirty socks the dog likes to chew on, and Bam’s food bowls are resting up against the wall beside his doghouse. The potted plants Namjoon gifted Jungkook are still alive and pop against the beige coloring of the walls in front of them. The TV is massive, his Playstation console resting on its side. Her eyes find the corner shelf where Jungkook’s Marvel figurines are on display behind glass doors, and she turns to look at him with a sparkle in her wide eyes. “Are those yours?” She gestures with her thumb. He nods, chewing his lower lip anxiously. “Can I look?” She rises from her seat when he motions for her to go on. Like standing in a museum, she silently peers into the display with her hands clasped behind her back.

“I just got that case a few days ago when I got that plant next to you,” Jungkook remarks, joining her.

“I remember,” she says distractedly.

“You remember?” His eyebrows raise, and he looks at her fixedly, bringing a fingernail to his mouth. He scrunches his eyebrows, rubbing at his forehead with his fingers; he remembers, too.

He’d bumped into Rei on his way upstairs, both arms holding the bonsai trees obstructing his view, taking long strides up the stairs, chanting to himself and grunting in rhythm. He was on the 50th stair.

“Hey!” A voice shouted at him. “What the hell?”

Jerking to the side of the staircase, flattening against it, Jungkook jumped at this voice. “Sorry! You’re okay?”

The voice struck him as familiar, but mostly, he was surprised he wasn't alone on the staircase. The person laughed a lively laugh, and he felt his chest tighten. He lowered the plants, meeting her eyes. “I’m okay,” she said, shaking her head. She grinned at him, and his heart gave a squeeze. “These things happen. I should take the elevator next time.”

“The plants, I mean. You walked past me going up the stairs and hit me on the head with it.” She glances to her right, catching his eyes briefly. He groans, nodding lightly. She continues, voicing their shared memory, “You were carrying two pots of plants that day and lost your balance or something like that.”

He nods with his eyes closed, his eyebrows drawn close together as he tongues his cheek. “I remember, too,” he opens his eyes to look over at her as he continues, “sorry again. My friend told me not to do that, and I didn’t listen.”

A Spiderman figurine holds her attention, and she’s smiling. He feels his cheeks burn at her sincere gesture. She pretends not to notice and says, “You like running into me like that, then?”

“Like how? It was an accident,” Jungkook says, standing beside her and stretching his arms behind his head.

“Riiiiight,” she says, smirking. “Accident.”

“I didn’t know you were in the stairwell. No one takes the stairs,” Jungkook counters, his voice taking on a defensive edge.

“I take the stairs, I like the exercise, and it’s less embarrassing for me,” She admits. “Running in front of people just looks so stupid. I get too worked up about it and think people are just laughing at me, and they might be, but this way, I can do it in private.”

“Running across the street when cars let you pass is very embarrassing for no reason,” Jungkook says with a laugh. “And okay, fair. I took the stairs that time just because the wait for the elevator was so long. I didn’t mean to hit you that time either.”

“Jungkook, we have to stop meeting like this.” She gives her head a light shake and looks down at her hands. She picks at the glitter on her nails distractedly. “So many accidents. We’re too clumsy.”

“I know what you mean. Namjoon told me to leave one of the plants in the lobby, but I was too impatient. I’m like that sometimes.” He can’t seem to stop blushing.

But Jungkook has to agree. There have been too many accidents in their run-ins with each other, and he remembers each encounter with extreme detail.

Jungkook saw her for the first time when he moved in and face-planted into her back as she stood by the entrance of the registration office. But it didn't happen right away, at least.

The office was big and bustling with sounds. Jungkook walked in, asked out loud if there was a line, and someone nearby replied that yes, there was a line, and he was right at the tail of it. He bounced on the heels of his feet, humming a melody to himself, tapping his fingers against the sides of his legs. A TV across from him played a K-Pop music video of a group he’d never heard of. Beneath the TV was a table with a Terra Kaffe espresso machine accompanied by a spread of dan-pat bbang, songpyeon, bingsu, and reusable cups. His stomach grumbled, but he kept still, willing himself to look away.

Rei stood in line, a foot or two in front of Jungkook, sporting her hair pulled back, secured neatly with a clip the shape of a butterfly. She wore casual clothing: a black long-sleeve sweatshirt, baggy pants, and white Nike shoes. She had earbuds in, and he could hear the muffled sounds of a guitar, and though he did not fully understand why, he smiled.

“Next in line, please,” a woman behind a glass window called out, taking an uninspired sip of her iced coffee as she waved a hand toward her. “Come on, next in line.”

Jungkook wore a black t-shirt, navy plaid bottoms, and socks with slides, though standing there, he began to regret his attire. His eyes looked over the office, and mentally, he tallied the number of girls he spotted. Nine. He felt his cheeks warming up, his neck growing hot, and when he looked over to his right, a girl waved at him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He blushed, nodding at her. Why hadn’t he worn something nicer?

He was adjusting his sock, balancing on his right leg, when a dog ran past him, toppling him over. He hopped on his right leg, his arms flailing at his sides, and his face instantly smashed into Rei’s back. If he had a chance to do it over, he wouldn’t have cried out so loud. Even now, months later, he cringes at the memory. He’d turned away, cupping his aching nose after she whipped her head over her shoulder at the sudden impact. Their eyes met briefly, her pupils dark and wide; she mouthed something to him, his ears ringing, all of the sounds around him muddled into incoherence.

“I’m so sorry. Excuse me,” Jungkook mumbled, turning at his heel and speed-walking past a group of girls that giggled when he passed them.

Jungkook thought about her all day after that first day. While he unpacked, walked Bam, and cooked for himself later in the evening. She was pretty, sure, but there was something else. Something he couldn’t break apart and understand— it was new and brought on a strange sensation and desire to know her. He didn't know it then, but he’d see so much of her it would become nearly impossible not to think of her.

And here they are, five months later.

“You agree, don't you?” Rei prods. “Maybe you’re the clumsy one, Jungkook. I was just standing there.” She says that like she knows what he’s thinking. That first day they saw each other. She’s thought of it too.

He swoons at the sound of his name escaping her lips again. “Jungkook,” he mouths, taking it in—not wanting to forget how it sounds when she says it.

She turns on her heel, returning to the couch and fetching her phone from between the cushions. Her backside faces Jungkook, and he shyly lowers his gaze when he catches a glimpse of her ass in shorts that do a poor job of hiding anything. “I’m impatient too, as you know now,” she offers, looking down at her phone, her face illuminated with the screen's glow. She reads something and has a serious look on her face. “It’s getting late, isn’t it?”

He squints at the clock on the stove. 4:27. “Yeah, I guess so,” he replies, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Your figures are cool, by the way. They look like the real deal. Are they?”

He nods silently, tonguing his lip ring. Jungkook watches her with a gut-wrenching desire to step forward and take her face into his hands and kiss her.

“You’re a Marvel geek. I'm guessing,” she says, staring down at the ground. It’s like she’s suddenly shy. Her voice is quieter. “I like some of the movies. I saw the new Spider-man with my friends last week. I’m late, I know.”

“I have Disney plus,” Jungkook says, his eyes looking her over. “And I’m not trying to say anything like the ramen stuff, you know, all that stuff people say to each other recently to get together. It’s a real offer.”

Rei laughs, bringing a hand to cover her face. “So you don't want to get together?” She looks at him with a deep intensity in her eyes and smiles coyly, making Jungkook swallow hard.

“I said that, didn't I? That’s not what I meant. It’s just that nowadays, words have different meanings. Let me rephrase-”

She takes a step closer to him, and his chest feels ablaze. She’s so close he can smell the fragrance of her clothing much clearer than before. We use the same detergent.

“I’d like to come by sometime,” she says, her eyes lingering on his hands holding his cup, “for a movie, no ramen.” Now she smiles warmly and takes a step back.

She likes doing this to me. It’s torture.

“Really?”

“Yeah, why not? You seem nice. I don’t think you’d be a freak, right?”

“Right,” he says, nodding.

“I know we’re technically strangers, but you have a good vibe,” she says, shrugging. “I show up here so late, and you serve me tea. You’re a nice guy.”

“Am I?”

“I think so. Are you?” She quirks up an eyebrow, twitching her lips between a smile and a laugh.

Jungkook smiles at her. He feels his cheeks growing warm. “I am. I don’t know why I challenged you about it.”

“Because you like to flirt with me, I think,” she retorts, crossing her arms across her chest.

“I’m just a nice guy,” he says as he places his palms  against the kitchen counter for balance, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” She glances at her phone screen, reading the time, and Jungkook does the same with the time on the kitchen stove. She's going to leave. I can feel it.

“I guess I should get going…”. Rei looks apologetic for some reason. A pink shade colors her cheeks, and she brings a hand to her forehead and lets out a deep breath as she says, “Kinda hot in here, no?”

Jungkook wants to tell her she doesn't have to go and that he doesn't want her to, but he only offers her a timid smile and looks away, nodding in agreement. “A little. I’ve been feeling it too,” he says, looking at her and catching her eyes.

Should I move now? Is it now? My move? Will she kiss me back?

Still, he brings his cup of tea to his lips as she stores her phone in the pocket of her hoodie, and she pauses as if remembering something. “And why is there a mattress outside?”

He’s drinking his tea and begins to choke. Coughing, his chest on fire, and his throat closing in, Jungkook rushes to double over his sink, and she’s standing behind him with a wrought-up look.

“Are you okay?” She steps closer to him, lightly touching his arm.

Jungkook coughs, clearing his throat; he can feel the blood rushing to his face as his eyes instinctively shed tears. The feeling of her touch on his arm feels like fire. “Sorry, I don’t know what happened. The uh, the mattress?” He looks toward his patio, a panicked look in his eyes behind the tear-stained glasses. He pauses, looking down at the floor. “I have them all over, so I can nap when I feel like it.”

She throws her head back and laughs, not taking him seriously until silence hangs between them. She raises an eyebrow. “Wait, really?” With that, her phone goes off in her pocket, and she reaches for it. “Sorry, one sec.”

He leaves her to talk on the phone with whoever and walks over to pick up Bam’s toys and dirty socks to throw in a hamper. Jungkook can hear the muffled phone conversation a room over, so he hums a song. She speaks in a hushed voice, but he hears his name mentioned.

He coughs before he reappears in the kitchen.

She’s humming to herself, lingering by the door, and his heart squeezes. ‘Don’t go,’ he wants to say. ‘Stay.’

“I should go…” she says, not budging from where she stands, chewing her lower lip, looking at Jungkook through full eyelashes. Almost as if waiting for him to interject, and him, not knowing how to.

“If you want,” Jungkook says. He swallows hard at a lump in his throat. The plead to have her stay pushed down into his chest.

DAMN!! 

A look he can’t decipher takes over her face, and then the next moment, she’s smiling at him, reaching for the doorknob just as he does. They share an embarrassed exchange of looks when their hands touch, and he shakes his head, an anxious chuckle escaping him. His face feels warm as he pulls the door open for her. Rei steps out into the hallway, turns over her shoulder, and raises her hand to wave at him slowly.

Again, he yearns to kiss her and again lacks the courage.

“Bye, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook.”

“Goodnight, Rei,” he replies, leaning on the doorframe, his heart sinking into his stomach.

The next day, Jungkook is cooking for himself. He submitted his comic in the morning and has endlessly replayed last night’s events in his head.

“I should’ve kissed her,” he says to Bam.

Jungkook’s phone pings a few times and is followed by a call. He answers, distracted as he serves himself bibimmyeon and pork belly. He props the phone between his chin and ear, tilting his head comically as he walks back and forward to the table, setting down a steaming bowl of sticky rice. “‘Ey, Namjoon-hyung!…” He drags the chair out from underneath and settles in front of his plate. Jungkook reaches over the table, yanks a paper towel, grabs his chopsticks, and begins digging into the rice. “Wait,” he glances at the clock on the wall. 6:47. “It’s almost seven,” Jungkook says, confused. “Your meeting with the record executive started at six… it ended that quickly?”

Namjoon smiles. “The meeting was quick. I have really good news.” He pauses for effect. He’s in the studio, eyeing the email on screen. “Hold on,” he says, placing the phone on the desk and turning the speaker on.

 Jungkook is chewing his cheek, the chopsticks loosening in his grip. He lets the silence exist for a few seconds, then he rubs the back of his hair, leaning back in his chair, his spare hand fisted over his mouth. “What?” He grumbles into his fist.

“He liked my demo. He had some comments about it but said it would do well. He said everyone else liked it; whatever that means, we’re in. He said we can come in for a group meeting where we introduce the guys, and that way, we can all talk about what we want to do going forward.”

Jungkook is speechless; they’re in. All seven of them. He can’t believe it. He stares wide-eyed at Bam, who tilts his head quizzically. “No way. No way. Is this for real?” Jungkook’s heart is thudding so hard he can see it beneath his shirt.

“I swear, Jungkook. It is.”

“Do the guys know?” Once more, Jungkook meets the eyes of his dog, and he’s smiling so hard he feels his nose scrunch.

“Some of them do, yeah. I was with Jimin earlier.”

“Yoongi,” Jungkook says, bringing his palm over his forehead. Smiling with his eyes crinkling, he feeds himself rice. “Yoongi will be so happy. We all are, you know but him .” Jungkook makes a sound with his teeth. “He’ll be so proud of all of us.”

“I know, I know. Yoongi hasn’t slept well since we first submitted our demos, and when I mentioned I had a meeting with an executive, he grabbed his jacket and took off to the studio. I don’t know what he’s been doing when he comes in, but I know he might cry.”

“I might cry too,” Jungkook admits in a hushed voice.

Namjoon wipes at his eyes, and a silence hangs between them. They’re both sniveling on the receiving end. After Jungkook clears his throat and allows himself another sniffle, he starts eating again.

“What did you make?”

“I have a lot of rice left. I made bibimmyeon and pork belly, but I have some noodles, too, if you want me to make them. Come and eat with me if you’re free. Let’s celebrate.”

“Can I leave my bike outside?” Namjoon asks. Namjoon shuts off the shared laptop in the studio, grabs his puffer jacket and the book he’s been reading, heads over, and flips off the light switch. His phone remains on speaker as he locks the door and shoots a glance down the hallway. From a distance, Yoongi does a quick two-finger salute in passing. Namjoon’s heart gives a squeeze.

Jungkook thinks it over. He’s never seen anyone leave a bike outside. “I don't know, honestly. Bring it to my apartment; it’ll be fine. I have something to tell you, by the way,” he says, referring to the previous night.

“Just saw Yoongi,” Namjoon says, jingling the keys on his finger and making his way out of the building. “I have to tell him, but I think he’s already in his studio locked up. You know how he gets.”

“He won’t let you in,” Jungkook says, scrunching his nose and stifling a laugh through a mouthful of steak.

“Exactly. And what is it? I’m bringing my bike, I thought about leaving it chained, but it’ll stress me out.”

“He’s almost done with his demos, Hobi said the other day,” Jungkook replies. “But it’s about her, bro. You won’t believe me.”

Namjoon laughs through the phone. “Mystery-neighbor-crush her, you mean?”

“Neighbor stuff, am I that annoying? Don't answer that. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you; just come in because I have to wash Bam.”

“All right, bro, give me twenty, and I’ll be there.”

Jungkook is sitting across from Namjoon, who raises an eyebrow at him as he chews on his steak. “So she came in here,” he swallows his bite and continues, “was on that couch?” he signals with his chopsticks, “and she went home after that?”

Jungkook nods. The moment he’s been dreading: admitting he chickened out. He’s not proud of himself and debates whether to omit a few things.

“Yeah, what else could’ve happened?” He takes a drink of his water, avoiding Namjoon’s gaze.

“So many things, bro. But, the very least that should have happened is that you got her number or something like that. Did you ask?”

Jungkook is quiet. His cheeks are flushing with heat. He’s chuckling at himself, remembering how he clammed up around her.

“You just let her leave, right? She walked out, thanked you, and you probably made her a tea she didn't drink.” Namjoon is laughing when Jungkook groans and shakes a fist above his head. “Ah, Jungkook!”

“I know!” Jungkook shakes his head. “But I got a name. I got a name; that’s something, isn't it?”

“Well?”

“It’s Rei. I don’t know where she’s from and all that, but that name just suits her, doesn't it?”

“It does, it does. But come on, bro! This girl lives so close!  For starters, she stuck around. She could've just left after explaining herself. Instead, she sat down right where you’re sitting and stayed .” Namjoon feeds himself rice as he shakes his head and continues while he chews, “She looked at you the last time we evacuated; I saw her. And how many times have you bumped into her already? She probably thinks you’re out to get her.”

“I know. I kept thinking the same. I thought: ‘She could've left by now, but she hasn’t. I don’t know, hyung, I just froze. I just kept nodding; it was so stupid.” Jungkook closes his eyes and places his fingertips over his eyelids, shaking his head in lament.

“Not stupid, bro,” Namjoon offers, swallowing his bite. “I’ve seen her around too, and she’s really pretty, but it’s a weird sensation when she’s nearby; it’s like her beauty is different. I don't mean it like I want her now, nothing like that, but it sort of feels like I am stuck too. Like, what can I say right now?”

Jungkook nods, understanding the sentiment. “It knocks the wind out of me sometimes when I see her,” he says, reaching for a napkin. “I wanted to say so much more, but I couldn't. It was different being close to her like we were. This girl is killing me, Namjoon-hyung. You said she looked at me?”

Namjoon smiles warmly. “She did, at the evacuation a week ago. Was it a week now?” He wipes at his mouth and looks at Jungkook expectantly. Jungkook nods at him. “Well, a week ago, I went out last and caught her looking your way. She had her hand like this,” he brings his hand up to shield his eyes against nothing, “and she was smiling. She didn't see me noticing.”

Jungkook scoots closer. He rests his chin on Namjoon’s knee, looking straight at him until he’s cross-eyed. “At me?” he asks, loving that this happened.

Namjoon shakes his leg free and takes a sip of his water. “I think she likes you. She was looking at you the same way I’ve seen you look at her,” Namjoon reaches for his phone, checks a text, and continues, “so she would’ve been into you. Did she flirt with you?”

Jungkook mulls it over. He doesn't want to read too much into it, but he thinks she did flirt. “I could be wrong, and I’d hate to be wrong,” he says, “but I feel like she was into me, like, actually into me, and I thought about kissing her. Would that have been too forward?”

“Hmm,” Namjoon says as he chews his food. “Maybe. I have to see you two in action, to say. I think you can trust your gut, and if you felt that way, maybe she was giving you those vibes on purpose, you know? Sometimes girls are so forward that it's confusing. Like, ‘am I reading this wrong?’ When the whole time there was only one way to read it.” He gives his head a light shake.

“She was talkative like Yoongi predicted.”

“Oh, was she now?” Namjoon looks surprised. “I sided with Jimin when he said she seemed shy and kind of mean. Not mean, but you know the mean look girls have that makes them look kind of cool?”

Jungkook nods with a mouthful of steak.

“That’s actually interesting that she was talkative. That’s good. I think you’d do bad to get with a shy chick again.”

Jungkook once dated a girl in high school he didn't know how to talk to, and when he meant to break things off, he’d just ignored her for the entire year. She was too shy, too quiet, too reserved. He was everything else but.

“I agree with you on that,” Jungkook says honestly. “Back to Rei, she’s even prettier up close, hyung. I thought I was in a dream, that sounds so cheesy, but it’s true.”

“It was, what, four in the morning?”

“Three. Close to four.”

“Exactly. I would think that's a dream too. Seems like it. Are you sure you’re not messing with me?” Namjoon elbows Jungkook lightly.

“I want her. Is that so pathetic?”

“A little bit,” Namjoon teases, bringing his thumb and pointer finger to a slight pinch. “Like this tiny little space right here is where you live.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he walks into the kitchen for a beer.

“Honestly, Jungkook, I think she likes you back. Pass me the rice. Want some of the steaks?” He shows Jungkook his bowl, and Jungkook accepts, opening his mouth to be fed. “You can feed yourself.”

“Ah,” Jungkook says, mouth agape. “Just one piece.”

Namjoon is feeding Jungkook rice when the doorbell rings. The two exchange bewildered looks, and Jungkook shuffles from the ground, sliding on the flooring with his socks as he peers through the peephole. He falls to the ground as if shot, crouching with a deathly look about him.

Namjoon shifts in his seat on the floor and, stretching his neck, asks Jungkook who it is. Over and over, quietly, he’s asking who’s at the door.

Jungkook doesn't answer until Namjoon stands. He shoots a hand up to grab Namjoon’s sleeve, motioning him to crouch beside him. Whispering, he says, “It’s Rei; what do I do?”

“Get up!”

“I can't. I can't. I don't know what she wants. What if she knows?”

“Knows what? Get up; I’m opening the door in 3, 2,...”

Jungkook stands. He can feel his heart beating viciously, and his hands are sweating. He glares at Namjoon, raising his hand and motioning for a cutthroat. “I’ll kill you,” he mouths as his friend walks away.

Jungkook peers into the peephole and sees her turning away. He pulls back the door quickly, causing her to turn around. She smiles, and he wants her all over again. His relaxed demeanor vanished. “Hey, what’s going on?” are his first words.

Rei laughs, and he can feel himself blushing. He drops his head when he remembers Namjoon is a witness.

“Hey, neighbor,” she says, smiling the same coy smile she lent him last night. She pulls a paper from her pocket, extends it to him, and says, “It’s an invite to my birthday party this weekend; if you don't have any plans, I thought it would be nice to hang out and see you again. I’ll have friends over, and of course, you can bring yours.”

A party? Wait, see me again?? “I will be there. This weekend. I’ll make an appearance.” He stops talking when she laughs. He can feel the blood boiling on his face. What the hell is going on with him? “Sorry, yes, I mean, thank you.” Jungkook can feel Namjoon’s burning gaze behind him—he can picture how his friend stifles a laugh into his fist.

“No problem. Who’s that?” She points inside the apartment.

Namjoon waves when Jungkook turns around to see him standing behind him, a smirk tugging at his lips. Jungkook widens his eyes at him, mouthing for him to stop laughing. Stepping aside for his friend’s introduction, Jungkook signals toward his friend with a swift movement of his hand. “Namjoon, this is Rei. Rei, this is Namjoon, a good friend and gifter of bonsai trees.”

“I’ve seen you, no?” she talks to Namjoon, who nods, flexing his pointer finger, indicating that she has. He’s chewing cheese puffs, and Jungkook raises an eyebrow at him, silently questioning him: ‘Where did you get those?’ His stare says.

“At the evacuation, I was there.”

“Ah, yes, you had bright green hair like a highlighter pen then.”

He laughs. “That was me, yeah! You were with that girl, the…one with the red hair in pigtails.”

“Ah. That’s right! You have a good memory.” She sounds impressed.

Jungkook tongues his cheek, shaking his head beside them unnoticed.

“You too, you too. Cheese puff?” Namjoon offers a bag of cheese puffs.

“You’re tempting me, but I will have to decline. I just had lunch.”

“Your friend, the one with the pigtails, will she be at this party?”

Namjoon is nervous, but he plays it off well. Only Jungkook can tell.

“I think she can be there,” Rei replies, her eyes shifty and full lips pursing. She seems to think it over, anxiously looking at Jungkook and chewing on her lower lip. It’s as though she’s waiting for Jungkook to glance her way. Only Namjoon is seeing this.

Jungkook is annoyed. They’re talking so easily. He shifts uncomfortably, his fingers gripping the door. He watches how Namjoon chuckles and how she timidly looks down at her hands. The glittery nail polish made his heart feel like a stone in his chest. He wants to interject. But how?

“I’m sure the guys will be free this weekend too; we might celebrate our little accomplishment here sometime soon, so Jungkook can tell you about that and invite you when the time comes, right, Jungkook?”

Jungkook only nods. That’s all he seems to be capable of when she’s around. He feels so strange around her. He feels the same way each time, like he’s coming down with something suddenly. Didn’t it just get so hot out here with the door open like this? He wonders. Is anyone else sweating?

Their voices continue around him. He nods a few times when the conversation shifts toward him, but he feels lightheaded. He wants her so badly.

He doesn’t mean to, but he clears his throat, turning the conversation around him to a simmer.

“So, Jungkook, Namjoon told me he’d come this weekend and bring your other friends. There’s a theme, by the way.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “It’s fairytale-themed!” She raises her arms above her head like a big reveal and holds her pose, awaiting their reaction.

Namjoon laughs, turning away; he says: “I’ll give it good thought! Thank you for the invite, Rei!”

“And you?” She looks at Jungkook.

“Me?” Jungkook swallows hard at a lump in his throat. His brain seems to forget how to form sentences when she’s around.

“Yes, you. Do you have any ideas, JK?” she smiles, lopsided.

Is she flirting with me? Here? Namjoon-hyung! Come back!

“I have to rewatch all of my favorite fairytale movies to have an idea,” he says, bringing a hand to his head. He feels the heat emitting from his forehead. “I’m kidding. I think something cool like Dracula.”

“Is that a fairytale?” She laughs.

“Define a fairytale. Isn’t it just make-believe?”

“You don’t think vampires are real?” She raises an eyebrow at him, but he can tell she’s intentionally giving him a hard time. Her smile is surfacing and betraying her.

“I do, actually. Ah, okay. Give me time. I’ll think of something. What about you? Who are you going as?”

She pretends to think it over even though she already has an idea. “I won’t say; you’ll have to see.”

He’s fully leaning against the doorframe, his foot slipping under him, and he almost falls over. He mutters something to himself, and she’s biting back a laugh. “You want tea or something before you go? If you’re not busy.”

“Ah, I want to say yes, but my friends are upstairs; I just stopped by real quick but thank you.”

He nods. “That’s okay, next time.”

“I’ll catch you two later,” she says, waving.

She turns to walk away, and Jungkook doesn't know what takes over him, but he shouts after her: “Thank you!”

He’s too embarrassed to see if she turns around. He closes the door immediately.

He doesn't even want to look at Namjoon. He stands facing the door for a while, his head hanging low, eyebrows scrunched up in physical anguish. He chews his lip and winces at himself, remembering.

“I said that out loud,” Jungkook says, incredulous with himself.

“You said that out loud,” Namjoon reiterates from somewhere in the room.

Sighing, Jungkook turns over, and flinches at a grape Namjoon tosses at him. His nose scrunching, he catches another grape mid-air and chews noisily. “She wants to know me properly,” he says, with a dreamy air.

“So be her prince charming,” Namjoon jokes, plopping down on his couch, busy on his phone.

“So I will be,” Jungkook says, tilting his head back to look up at his ceiling. She’s up there, walking around, talking to her friends, and he’s beneath her, dreaming of the weekend. “What day is it?”

“Wednesday.”

“Let’s go; I need an outfit.”

“Now?”

“Now, get up! Get up!”

“Let me finish my grapes; I just washed them,” Namjoon whines, still not glancing from his phone’s screen.

“Okay, but after, we’ll go.” Jungkook walks into his room, grabs his glasses, and steps back out.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Jungkook nods, biting the corner of his lip distractedly. “Oh, I’m serious.” He reaches for the car keys on the table beside him. “I’ve never been more serious.”

And he is. He’s never been more serious about anything else. He wants Rei, but he wants her to want him, too. He can’t help but feel as though his luck is turning out.

taglist: @vsualitae​

A/N: thank you for being here! I hope those that looked forward to the full first chapter have enjoyed this! It's my first lengthy fic, as I've already stated, so any feedback is greatly appreciated! reblogs, comments, and anything that lets me know you've enjoyed this will make me the happiest writer :') I appreciate you for giving my work a shot <3 Let me know if you'd like a second part, what you liked, etc. I'd love to hear from you, reader >.< until next time!!

[shana-silver-fox]

Wishes are not Hopes

Big giant rambling dump about The Book of Carol 2.02

Laurent's opening line sets the difference between Carol and Isabelle.

Izzy represents wishes (childish, unrealistic, immediate gratification )

Carol is hope. (maturity, realistic, planned)

some online descriptions on the difference

HOPE to want things to happen that are possible. “I HOPE it doesn’t rain tomorrow.”

We use the verb WISH when we want things that to happen that are unlikely or impossible. "I wish it never rained again"

Put simply, this is the difference between hope and wish:

The verb wish usually describes the present or the past.

The verb hope usually describes a possible future situation.

Wishes are not hopes. Isabelle will never be Carol.

Laurent then immediately tells Losang that he knows Daryl is missing Carol and "the others". I do love how Laurent now knows that Carol is the most important person in Daryl's life and grouped everyone else as 'others". We can infer that through off screen conversations Laurent made this conclusion.

Daryl seems to have regressed to early seasons Daryl. Rick's henchman, now Losang's. Could play a part in his old abandoment issues coming back. We even have Losang saying "we stil have to deal with Daryl when he comes back" Call back to Daryl's intro episode season 1 of TWD

I think the baseball game was a wink at Daryl getting to 1st base, and of course no further lol Even Norman used that analogy in the interview after this episode.

Izzy asking "what does us mean" I think was meaningful for Daryl. I think he's been wanting definition for him and Carol for the longest time and is afraid to ask. Not having that definition has him feeling extra lost figuratively when he's lost literally. Not enough is said about that pause Daryl took before he left on the bike, like he wanted to say more to Carol before he left. I'm convinced he wanted it locked down before he went.

Daryl asks for her and Laurent to go with him and she says no. Remember, he asked Carol to go with him and she said no too. I think when Izzy reconsiders and says she will go with him, his reaction is knee jerk almost like Daryl was trying to recreate the goodbye he wanted with Carol. He wanted her to say yes, and seal that I Love You with a kiss.

Several times in dialogue we are told "people gotta believe in something" and "what we want is to be certain" Daryl was missing that certainty with Carol. (Until she shows up for him of course) I think he really had convinced himself no one would look. Remember Rick left him to rot with Negan. He had to save himself. Abandonment monster still lives in his brain.

We also got confirmation that Daryl and Izzy had separate rooms so there was no pre hanky panky. That awkward kiss was literally it.

There were several signs *no pun?, or writing on the wall *cough I think were direct FcU to ABC shippers.

l mean, Blondie standing over younger blondie with a bullet hole to the head?

Also minutes later, Izzy executes Emile with a bullet to the head. Emile is the masculine of Emily 👀 jfyi Lots of coincidences in a short scene.

Emile broke my heart. I'm not quite sure what to make of Isabelle being the death of the young lovers? Thoughts?

This has gone on super long and I didn't even cover Carol's half of the story, so I think I'll make a separate post.

[strawbeerossi]

I seen that you write angst and I have an idea to share with you because of some personal things that I went through with my own family.

Do you think you can write something about fem!reader and Spencer finding out that one of their children has leukemia? Maybe with death involved to show how intricate this situation can affect families? I know it’s a very loaded topic so I completely understand if you don’t wanna do it but I think you’d master the topic beautifully based off of your angst writing. ❤️

I hope you’re doing alright today, Tay

First off, I’m so sorry for your loss, lovebug. I hope I do this justice and thank you for trusting me with this topic. My DMs are open if you ever need to talk. 🩵

And I'm good today, thank you, honey.

Vilomah: Bereaved Parents

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: After their son succumbs to his illness, the Reid parents have to navigate the grieving process together along with the team who are there to help.

Content Warning: Child death, leukemia, details about a hospital stay, extreme grief after loss, a child’s funeral, parental grief, mentions struggles with eating, spousal argument, lots of tears, descriptions of feeling empty and depression, the team is there for the Reids, spousal comfort, hurt/comfort.

Word Count: 3.3K

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I cried like a baby writing this. I hope I captured what you were looking for anon.

“Memories saturate my heart and the story of you spills from my eyes.” – Grace Andren

There were many horrors that Spencer faced in his line of work; murderers, rapists, cannibals, the lot of it. He was also faced with grief more often than not, losing Maeve and Gideon being the two most notable times where he was forced to face the fact that everybody dies at some point, no matter who they are. 

That wasn’t enough to prepare him for the cruelest thing life had to throw at him. Benjamin was diagnosed with leukemia when he was just two months shy of four-years-old, more specifically it was Chronic Myeloid Leukemia. 

The first few months were seemingly okay. He was responding well with the treatment, his little body growing stronger with each passing day. There were plenty of ice cream days to celebrate whenever Ben could function as good as he could before the cancer. Not to mention all the gifts his aunt Penelope would send.

There was hope, so much hope that Y/N and Spencer didn’t let the thoughts of losing their son loom over their head.

That was until he got sick again, this time much worse. It happened suddenly, Ben went from eating some fruit snacks and watching a movie to losing consciousness and growing pale. Spencer never thought he could get home faster than what he did when he got the phone call. Emily sent him home immediately after hearing the news, telling him to get home to his family and that she would check in.

The next few weeks were spent in the hospital, the bright lights being harsh on the eyes of the sore eyes of the Reid parents. Y/N didn’t sleep but for a few hours a night, any small movement or sound from Ben or his machines waking her up. Spencer had grown to not sleep for that long, surviving off maybe an hour a night and ten cups of coffee to push forward the following morning.

However, the suffocating realization of the inevitable was starting to soak in. Spencer wanted nothing more than for his son to make a recovery but as a man of science, that hope dissipated as he noticed the signs. People got better before death, so whenever Ben was showing all the signs of surging, it was enough to kill Spencer.

Even after they had a conversation with their doctor, the woman telling them that surging typically happens one to two days before death, it was like Y/N wouldn’t take that. She would say that he was fine, that he was healing. 

It was denial. 

The day they lost him was the hardest of them all. The air was suffocating that morning, there being a bitter winter chill. Spencer had gone to work, as usual. There was a case, one about a man who was killing women who resembled his birth mother after she rejected him from her life. He was distracted, like any father on the verge of losing his child would be.

He knew he shouldn’t have gone to work but he was losing his mind, being overwhelmed with the knowledge of the inevitable. He liked to think that if he and Y/N didn’t discuss it, it wasn’t real. As a man of science, he knew the risks of believing something like that.

Still, he gave himself false hope. 

However, his heart stopped beating for a split second as he could feel his phone buzzing, the world freezing around him as he couldn’t hear the others around him. He knew what this call was. It took JJ shaking Spencer’s shoulders to snap him out of his thoughts. “I have to go.” 

Making it to the hospital, he dreaded going inside. However, he was running through the hospital doors not bothering to check in at the front desk as he was going as fast as his legs could carry him to reach his son’s hospital room. 

Judging by the heart wrenching screams of agony from his wife on the other side of the door, Spencer knew what to expect as his shaking hand was opening the hospital door. The sight of his wife cradling their son was enough to make him drop to his knees. 

The nurses and doctors looked at the small family, feeling the sting of heartache as they’d gotten to know the Reid’s over the past year.

Spencer’s legs were like jelly, the tears cascading his face being enough where he was sure he could fill up the hospital room in tears, enough to drown in. They were able to stay as long as they wanted to, even if it was hours later. 

“Do you have his blanket?” Y/N asked, voice raw from the screaming and uncontrollable sobbing from before. “I don’t want him to get cold..” She whispered, looking at their son who looked like he was sleeping against his father’s chest. “In the bag.” The words were shaky, the father keeping his son close while letting his forehead rest against Benjamin’s smaller one.

After they were laying the little boy down again, Y/N was slowly putting the blanket over the child before she was leaning down to kiss his forehead, which had begun to grow cold from the hours his parents took to say goodbye. The parents clung to one another as they were being forced to walk out of the hospital. 

After that, their life lost all its color. Waking up to an alarm rather than to a happy little boy jumping on their bed just wasn’t the same. There was no laughter in the house, no warmth. The atmosphere was just as cold as the weather outside. No matter how many days that Penelope came over with baskets filled with small goodies to try and lift their spirits, or how Luke would come by to check in and bring food over that the two parents just couldn’t stomach.

The day of the funeral was when every ounce of denial was fizzing away. Next came anger. Y/N was moving a bit slow, honestly not wanting to rush and be greeted with the sad looks of their friends and family. Spencer was ready twenty minutes prior, wanting to rush the grieving process and just accept everything immediately, even if it was impossible.

“Please hurry up.” His voice was laced with irritation, making wife look up from her shoes as she was playing with the strap. “I am hurrying..” She spoke softly, a frown on her face as she slowly got the shoes on. “You don’t have to have an attitude, by the way.” 

That was the start of something ugly.

“Well, you don’t have to take thirty years and expect Benji to walk through the door.” The words were deep cutting, very uncharacteristic of the loving man she married.The words had his wife stunned in place, her mouth falling open. “You don’t have to be an asshole and keep reminding me of where we are going.” She spat, moving to brush her hair back before standing.

“You can’t keep acting like things are going to change. He’s gone, Y/N. No matter how bad we want him back, we will never get him back.” They were growing angry at one another at the wrong time. Before the yelling could start, there was a soft knock on the door. With a soft sigh, Spencer was turning around and heading to the sound of the soft knocking. 

The sight behind the door was enough to make his heart clench. There was Derek, the man offering a sad smile. “Hey, kid. I came to pick you two up. How’s the missus doing?” He asked, chuckling as Spencer was rushing to tightly hug his best friend, his hand slowly patting the younger male’s back. “Hi Derek.” Y/N offered a weak smile once she was closing the bedroom door. 

“Hey mama.” His voice was soft and careful, heading over to wrap his arms around the woman before kissing her cheek. “I was thinking that after everything, we could all go out to lunch.” He wasn’t stupid, he could tell that the two parents were neglecting themselves, he’d talked to the team. 

This was a sensitive time, so he understood. However, he wasn’t going to sit idly by either. He’d be damned if he let them both slowly waste away. Benjamin sure as hell wouldn’t have wanted that. 

“I don’t know, Derek. I don’t think I can deal with everyone looking at us with pity. You know how many people have told me that they hugged their babies tighter because of this situation? It hurts. Not nearly as helpful as people think..” The woman spoke while slowly rubbing her face.

“It’ll just be us. The team, our family.” He attempted to coax both parents, the two not being able to get out of it in the end.

The three eventually made it to the graveyard where they were confronting the one thing that they didn’t want to face. The Reids were approaching the plot that they’d purchased for the family, Y/N having to collect herself at the sight of the coffin waiting by the open plot. 

“There you two are,” Penelope looked like she’d been sobbing already, her arms wrapping tightly around both parents. That was where the floodgates broke, both of them tightly clutching onto the blonde enough to suffocate her. 

The ceremony was beautiful, despite the flood of tears and pain deep in the chests of all that were closest to the child who they were laying to rest. It was something honorable, Benji even having his uncle Aaron there to say a final goodbye. Even surrounded by love, there was still an emptiness, a void that would never be filled. 

What came next made things worse, the parents having to say goodbye as soon as the casket was being lowered in its plot, Y/N and Spencer wrapped up in one another’s embrace while their hands were clutching each other’s clothing. The wife was letting her head rest against her husband’s shoulder, their tears soaking one another’s clothes and hair.

It was just them now, with the ghost of their sweet angel who would keep a watchful eye over his parents, whether they knew it or not.

Dave was approaching the parents, his hand resting on Spencer’s shoulder as he cleared his throat to catch their attention. “I want you both to know that I will be here for you both, always.” David Rossi, the father of the team, it seemed. As well as being uncle Dave to all the kids, Benji included. 

“I heard that you two agreed to come to lunch.” He spoke softly, eliciting a small smile from Y/N. “We are.” She said softly, truly unable to say no to him. “We are having it in my backyard. Why don’t you two ride with me?” He suggested, making both Spencer and his wife look at one another.

They weren't getting out of this, so they complied and followed behind David.

The only problem was that so many amazing things happened in that backyard, Benji’s baby shower being one of them.

“Baby Reid is getting so big,” JJ gushed, her hand on Y/N’s swollen bump as the woman laughed in content. “Isn’t he? He’s also been kicking the hell out of my ribs, I feel like he's punishing me.” Y/N joked.

Finding out that she was pregnant was the best thing that ever happened. Of course, there were jokes of Spencer and Y/N not even waiting a year after they got married before she was already pregnant.

It was funny, really. Spencer was highly convinced that the baby was conceived on the first week of their honeymoon, the two being a little too into that talk while they were in the middle of sex, the filthy words of her being swollen with his baby becoming literal.

Diana was thrilled the moment that she saw her son and his wife on one of their visits, the woman being more thrilled at the prospect of her little Spencer having a child of his own. She would say that she knew before they even told her. 

“Mothers always know, Spencer. We are animals, we can feel things.” Were her exact words, something that she said Y/N would understand one day.

“Bella!” David smiled, the term of endearment being a newer one that he used for Y/N after the pregnancy, something about how she looked gorgeous because she was glowing. It was sweet, she had to admit it. “Hi, David.” Y/N grinned, her arms wrapping around the older man in a hug before she was pulling away. “You and Penelope did a beautiful job, by the way!”

Almost as if she were summoned, the bubbly blonde was hurrying over to flash a smile. “There you are my gorgeous girl! How are you feeling?” She asked, her hand cautiously rubbing her baby bump once Y/N gave her the okay.

“I’m doing good, actually. This boy is gonna be the death of me though. I was craving dirt the other day.” Her nose crinkled. “Weirdness. However, this baby is a Reid so that’ll explain it better than anything else.” Penelope joked. 

“It’s actually more normal than you might think. One theory links pica cravings to iron deficiencies. Another theory suggests these cravings develop as an adaptive response to the way the immune system changes during pregnancy.” Spencer smiled while letting his arms wrap around his wife from behind, his lips pressing a kiss to her cheek before his hands were coming underneath the heavy bump, lifting it up gently to take some of the pain from his wife’s back.

It was enough to make the woman sigh of relief as her head was tilted back against his shoulder. “You are such a lifesaver.” She breathed while briefly closing her eyes. 

Spencer was attentive and loving, paying attention to her much more after the pregnancy was discovered.

This was a dream.

This was a nightmare, the memories rushing back to Y/N as she was walking into the backyard where all those sweet memories lived. It was emotionally draining, so much so that her hand was reaching aimlessly for Spencer’s.

As soon as her husband realized what she was doing, he was slowly approaching his wife and letting his hand tightly grip onto hers. He didn’t realize how bad they needed this, to have a reminder that they still had each other. He figured it was implied but this made a bit of weight lift off his chest. 

“I know it may be a bit hard to laugh right now,” Penelope began as she was offering a smile. “But I know how much Benji used to love having dinner with all of us, no matter where we went.” She began, making a soft, sad smile spreading across Y/N’s face. 

“So, I figured that I would honor one of my favorite godson’s in the best way possible. Instead of boring adult food, I made extra sure to get the best of the best.” Being a four-year-old, Benjamin was just as picky as the next kid. 

“Don’t tell me,” Spencer began, looking over as she was happily showing off the meal she had catered. It consisted of all the essential food groups of a young child; chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese, and french fries. 

Hank, Michael, Henry, the Simmons children and Jack were all over the idea of that. The adults, though, couldn’t help the soft laughter. “Benji would definitely approve.” Y/N offered a soft smile, shaking her head fondly. “Even up until the end, he had to have his nuggets.” Spencer added, a few tears springing up in his eyes at the pleasant memory, even in the darkest time of their lives.

“I don’t want that..” Benjamin wrinkled his nose as he was pushing away the soup that the hospital was giving him, making Spencer look up from his book. “It’s good for you, Benji. Try it.” He urged on, a smile as he put the book down after finding his bookmark. 

“Daddy, no. It’s yucky. It smells yucky.” He continued on, the four year old running the spoon through the bowl.

Like his mother, he was dramatic about it, gagging at the mere thought of eating what he was given. “I want chicken nuggets.” He whined out, now looking at his mother, who was sighing in content. 

“Take a few bites and try it! If you try it and you don’t like it, I’ll go get you some nuggets. Sounds fair?” She asked, keeping the stern tone yet offering a sweet smile, knowing damn well that he’d get his way in the end anyway. Even if he liked the soup.

“I’ll try it but I might be sick, mama.” He warned, looking at the broth with vegetables before he was taking a good amount on the spoon.

He eyed it over before pushing it into his mouth. Both parents couldn’t help the laughter falling from their lips as Benji pulled a face, looking offended he was even made to try it.

“Blegh! Nasty!” The animated child was pushing the tray table away as Y/N was already getting up to grab her keys. “I’m going! I’m going! Make sure that you watch your daddy, you know he likes getting into too much trouble.” 

As everyone had a plate in front of them, everyone was looking at the Reids, expectant of them to get up. Derek was the one who was already making two plates before placing them down in front of the two. “There you are pretty boy and pretty girl, no need to get up.” He knew what he was doing.

Even with the lack of appetite, Y/N was slowly picking up her fork before collecting a bit of the mac and cheese on her fork, slowly moving to push the fork in her mouth. She didn’t realize just how hungry she was before that bite. Of course, barely eating for two weeks would do that to you.

Spencer seemed to be on the same page, the two unknowingly eating like they hadn’t eaten in years. The group said nothing about it, although they shared collective glances and their eyes were glistening over with relief. 

They were eating enough to actually keep themselves alive, to keep themselves from falling ill and being stuck in the hospital being fed through IVs. After all they went through, they didn’t need to be in another hospital for a long time.

The rest of the day was spent with their family rather than them being locked up at home, real smiles gracing their features for the first time in forever. Being together in a quiet home was taking a huge hit at their mental health. 

This was what they needed. Their full support system. 

It was later on in the evening before Y/N and Spencer had gotten home, the two ordering takeout for dinner whenever they arrived at home. The wife was looking over the picture of their family that she had hanging up in the kitchen, a soft smile on her face. He looked so peaceful today, didn’t he?” She asked, her voice soft.

“No more pain, no more weakness.. Just peaceful.” Spencer added on, looking up from his hands. “Y/N.. I’m sorry about what I said earlier. It was horrible to say,” He said as his wife was offering a gentle smile. “I understand. It’s hard right now but.. Spencer, I love you. With every fiber of my being. Please remember that.”

It was what he needed to hear, his head nodding. “I know. I love you so much, baby. Thank you. I’m here for you, even if you just need to cry and be taken care of.” The taller man was standing up before heading over to tightly hug his wife. “You’re so strong. So fucking strong.” He spoke softly while kissing the top of her head. 

All they needed to power through this together was each other, they would make it through this for Benji over all else. It was what he would've wanted , their love to persevere. 

[cierraonline]

That’s So Beautiful

chapter three: that’s so beautiful

Masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter 

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 

THE O’CONNELL HOUSEHOLD

"Said out loud," Billie sings, rehearsing the line. Over the past three years, so much has changed for the trio. They went from being ordinary, talented people with individual goals to a signed group under Darkroom Records, unified by a shared mission: to complete their debut album. For Storm, it's even more ambitious, as the label head wants her to create an orchestral version of the album as a standalone project. On top of it all, they're filming a documentary for Apple TV.

"Nice," Finneas compliments, working on digitalizing the orchestral demo Storm created to align it with the pop culture standards of a regular album.

"Said out loud."

"That sounds good."

"Come here," her friend's voice drifts in, almost like a distant echo.

It might be something that shouldn't be...

Said out loud.

"Honestly, I thought that I would be dead by now," Billie sings, as Finneas makes technical sound adjustments. Storm watches closely, trying to absorb his production techniques, unfamiliar yet intrigued. The violins duel with pounding drums, taunting like fighters, until the music transforms into a pulsing bass beat.

"That's dope," Billie nods in approval, clearly pleased with the evolving sound.

What do you want from me?  

Why don't you run from me?  

What are you wondering?  

What do you know?

"Ouuu!"

Why aren't you scared of me?

"I'm so proud of that one," Billie grins, pulling Storm close as they dance, sitting together on the bed.

Why do you care for me?  

When we all fall asleep,  

Where do we go?

"That's cool, right?" Finneas turns his spinning chair to gauge his bandmates’ reactions.

"I'm a genius!" Storm does a little hop, still in Billie’s hold.

"Yes, you are, kitten," Finneas smiles, nodding approvingly.

"This is what I want the album to be called." Billie opens her journal, revealing her title: "When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?" She shows the camera. "I actually drew this song and had Storm turn it into actual words."

"So far, the process for this album is Billie visualizes the concept, I translate her drawings and emotional descriptions into lyrics," Storm explains, pulling out her own journal, filled with polaroids of Billie’s drawings and next to them are her handwritten lyrics. "Then, during composition, Billie and I choose instruments based on the mood. For ‘Bury a Friend’, we wanted it dark and tense, so we leaned heavily on strings to make it feel like an ancient Roman, dark duel." She reveals her iPad, where she’s recorded each instrumental layer on BandLab. "Once the orchestral part and my layered vocals are done, I hand it off to Finneas to digitalize, replicating it with his setup. Finally, Billie adds her vocals, and we adjust as needed."

"This is the drawing of this song—it's all about monsters under the bed. I want to incorporate wings and do a scene where I drink black liquid, my eyes turn black, and then I bleed black tears."

"That's quite morbid, don't you think?" Storm raises an eyebrow at her friend. "I'm only fourteen. What kind of song do you think I can create that matches that?"

"If I have to, I’ll tape you to the couch and make you watch ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’," Billie smirks.

"That's evil," Storm pouts.

"Anyway," Billie flips the page, smiling as she shares her journal. "Here’s a self-portrait. This is some weird doll, some random guy, a foot. There are drips, and you can decide what they are. There's some bitch. There's a hairy vagina. There, a-- a dick.," she says, giving the camera a tour of her eclectic drawings.

"That's cool."

I can't say no  

I can't say no

Boom, step on the glass,  

Staple your tongue.

"Can we bring it back to the bad dream theme?" Finneas asks, looking for direction.

"The concept is realizing that what you’re experiencing isn’t just a nightmare; it’s actually sleep paralysis," Storm explains. "In songwriting, there’s a rule to hint at the truth without naming it outright. Based on YouTube videos, people with sleep paralysis feel like their eyes are glued open, trapped, only able to see a figure lurking in the corner."

Then my limbs all froze,  

And my eyes won't close.  

And I can't say no, I can't say no.

"Step on the glass, staple your tongue," Billie jumps up, thrilled as she belts out her favorite line.

XXX

“So, this isn’t the first shot,” Billie says to the camera as she films her mother, Maggie Baird, who’s sitting in a chair with Storm sitting on the table positioned in front of her mom. “But this is the angle I want once it zooms out—not fully to the side.”

“What are you doing right now?” Patrick O’Connell questions his daughter as he watches the scene from a distance.

“Shut up!” she quickly remarks, turning her attention back to directing. “And not to the front, just, like… so that…”

“Pepper, uh-uh,” Maggie scolds Pepper, the family dog, as the dog goes to chase after something that catches her eye.

“The chair leg, that’s, like, in the middle. So I want it to start…” Billie tunes out the background noise and continues directing for her upcoming music video.

“Where’s that cat?”

“…with nothing in the background—”

“Give her a gold star.”

“With nothing in the background except… except the white cyc and the white table.”

“Can I ask a question?” Storm raises her hand.

“What?” Billie looks up from the camera view.

“Why am I sitting criss-cross on a table in front of your mom, Mags?”

“Because that’s what you’re going to be doing in the video.”

“Who said I want to be in the video?” The white-haired girl raises her left eyebrow in confusion.

“I did. Now shut up, look possessed, and pass the cup over to my mom,” Billie curtly demands.

“Yes, Mommy,” Storm’s eyes widen in mock shock as she follows the demand.

“Once it gets to this point, I’ll take a drink. Start drinking it. I’m not sure if I want it to stay here while I drink, or if it should come up to me while I’m drinking it—” Maggie sets down the cup, thinking the action was finished, causing Billie to pause mid-thought and redirect her. “Wait, keep drinking. I’m still deciding if I want it. 'Cause I don’t know if I… or—want it to stay diagonal. 'Cause I’m not sure if I want it to…” She stops abruptly, realizing she’s rambling. “What am I even saying?” she exclaims, frustrated.

“That’s what we’re all trying to figure out,” Storm comments, struggling to follow Billie’s verbal brain dump.

“Did I tell you to talk?” Billie turns her head toward her best friend.

“No.” Storm drops her head. “I’m sorry, Mommy Billie.”

“Stop calling me that!” Billie exclaims, a laugh escaping after. “I don’t know if I want to see… Okay, wait. I’ve decided. It’s gonna be here. Once I start drinking, and I’ve been drinking for a second, it’ll come and stay even with this leg in the middle, and exactly parallel to the other leg.” She steps closer to her mother and zooms in on the camera. “Come in so that my face is centered. I think I’ll grab the glass with my left hand so that the shot makes more sense.” Maggie follows her daughter’s vision and adjusts her hand. “Thanks, Mom,” Billie chuckles. “Then you’ll see the black goo disappear as I drink it all. And then Storm will reach over and slowly take the cup away.” Storm, obediently following directions, places the cup back in the center of the table and pauses as a thought strikes her.

“Wait, am I the demon in this video?” She turns to Billie, who’s still recording.

“And then I’ll just look into the camera,” Billie decides to ignore the question and continues with her director’s notes.

“Am I?” Storm repeats.

“And then it’ll stay right there. Don’t zoom! Don’t do any of those flashy moves these bozo filmmakers try to add just to keep things interesting.” Billie’s tone grows stern as she emphasizes her creative control.

“You’re working with a great director,” Maggie interrupts her daughter, not wanting her to get too worked up or overly demanding about the video’s details.

“Shut up!”

“He’s a genius.”

“Yeah, sure, but I’m telling you, don’t be an idiot. Don’t move the camera, and as I look into it, the black will drip from my eyes.”

“I just want to know whether or not I’m the demon in this video?” The camera shifts back to Storm.

“Yes, you are. Happy?” Billie finally answers.

“Why a demon? Can’t I be something friendlier?” Storm gives her best puppy-dog eyes, hoping it’ll sway Billie.

“No.”

“Okay,” Storm sighs.

“Billie, be nice to Stormy,” Maggie chides her daughter, giving Storm, who’s like a second daughter to her, a gentle pat.

“I’m always nice to her. Right, Peaches?”

“N-”

“I’ve got a mini-verse ball with your name on it,” Billie offers a playful bribe, knowing it’ll work.

“Billie treats me so well,” Storm offers a big smile. “She treats me so well I wouldn’t know what to do without her.”

“See?” Billie turns to her mother with a triumphant look.

“That was just sad, Stormy,” Maggie playfully shakes her head. 

XXX

In a scene that felt like a manifestation of their dreams, the girls found themselves on set for ‘When the Party’s Over’. After an hour in makeup applying prosthetics for the black tears Billie envisioned in her video, they were ready to film. On a wide, white podium, Storm sat perched with her mouth agape and head tilted, mimicking possession. Billie, seated in front of her, held a cup of black ink, a crucial prop. Slowly, Storm extended her hand, taking the cup from Billie in a deliberate, practiced motion.

“Put it down. Slowly.” The cup touched the table with a soft clink. “Reset it. We’ll try it again.” After another cut, they repeated the scene because Billie wasn’t sure what expression she wanted for the next shot.

“Cut. Cut, cut, cut, cut.”

“I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do,” Billie voiced her frustration as they reviewed the playback.

“Keep an eye on the shot when Storm takes the glass, and it’s still in the air before she sets it down. I think you break character when you feel like the camera isn’t on you anymore,” the director began before Billie interjected.

“It’s still capturing me?”

“Yeah, so the idea is for you to stay in character until the camera is solely back on you for your ending expression,” the director explained.

“Got it. But I can’t tell when it’s fully back on me, so if you could call it out, that’d be great.”

“You want me to say, like, ‘Billie camera’?”

“Yeah,” Billie agreed, adding specifics, “or just, ‘Camera’s coming back to you.’ Then I’ll know to get my face ready.”

“Okay. Cool.”

Once again, they went over the scene, and this time they completed it without issues.

“Cut. Yeah.” The crew applauded as the shot concluded, Billie’s face smeared with black ink while Storm remained fixed, staring at her.

“For the next videos, I’m directing them all myself,” Billie declared, walking off set hand-in-hand with Storm as they headed toward her mother.

“What?” Maggie looked at the girls in confusion. “What happened?”

“He just wasn’t it. The video wasn’t it, but I don’t want to make everyone redo everything,” Billie shook her head, running a hand through her hair. “He only took some of the notes I gave him; the rest was his own ‘creative vision’ or whatever.”

“It’s okay, honey,” Storm tried to comfort her friend, hopeful that this was just a minor issue that would fade once the project was finished.

“No, it’s not,” Billie sighed, looking to her mother. “The whole point was for Peaches and me to end forehead-to-forehead, white eyes meeting black eyes. Not with us at a distance, black eyes meeting black eyes. Peaches’ signature look is white eyes—when has anyone ever seen her with black eyes?”

“Did you tell the director you wanted Stormy with white eyes?” Maggie attempted to stay neutral, hoping to salvage the experience.

“Yes!” Billie exclaimed. “He said her white eyes wouldn’t make sense with the black goo. But Storm having black eyes makes even less sense! She looks weird with black eyes—everything about her is practically white except for her skin tone. But no white eyes, yet they’re okay with a red lip?”

“I looked weird?” Storm asked, looking up at Billie.

“No,” Billie sighed, pulling her friend into a hug, resting her head on top of Storm’s. “You looked fine. I’m just aggravated that I took the time to plan this video, and I wasn’t listened to,” she mumbled into Storm’s white hair.

“Call it a lesson learned,” Storm offered optimistically. “Now you know what you like and don’t like, and you’ll know what to do for the next ones.”

XXX

“Record this,” Billie suddenly stood up behind the studio microphone. “Record this. Oh.” She put her hand to her mouth to remove her Invisalign, sucking slightly to keep any drool contained.

“Oh, my God,” Finneas laughed.

“Eww,” Storm grimaced, instinctively touching her own Invisalign.

“The first track of the album should just be that,” Billie laughed, plopping onto her brother’s bed.

“All right, I’ve taken my teeth out. Let’s make an album,” Finneas jokes.

“I’ve taken my teeth out,” the girls laughed.

“My Invisalign has…”

“I have taken out my Invisalign…” the trio chanted together, adding to the joke.

“I have taken out my Invisalign… and this is the album,” Billie grinned. “Peaches, you should take yours out, too.”

“That’d be a spit nightmare,” Storm shook her head, shivering at the thought. 

XXX

"Blocking an intersection during rush hour traffic is not permitted unless you entered the intersection on a green light." Billie’s goal for the year is to get her driver’s license, and she’s very determined—even if it means studying after a two-hour session in Finneas's studio. “Under any circumstances, even if your light is green, unless you have the right-of-way or a green light—it's under any circumstances,” she read aloud. “Because if there’s traffic and it’s stopped, you can’t enter the intersection. That blocks everything. That’s illegal. Yeah, so... no.”

“It’s called ‘don’t block the box,’” Storm chimes in from her spot, lying with her head on Billie’s lap.

“Yes, correct.”

“That’s what they say in New York. ‘Don’t block the box,’” Maggie adds to Storm’s comment.

“That about vagina,” Billie shakes her head. “And how do you know that?”

“You literally won’t stop reading the handbook out loud,” Storm sighs. “I’m pretty sure if I wanted to take the test, I’d pass.”

“You could take it and get your learner’s permit,” Patrick suggests.

“No, thank you. I’m meant to be driven, not the person doing the driving,” Storm says, a little sass showing through.

“You gonna be my passenger princess,” Billie babbles in a baby voice, covering her best friend’s face in kisses.

“Get off me!” Storm laughs, trying to push Billie away, though she’s still lying on her lap.

“Never!”

"I’ve always wanted to drive. I just, like, love cars,” Billie says from the passenger seat of her dad’s car, talking to the camera facing the back seats. Today was the day Billie was officially given legal permission to start learning how to drive, having passed her permit test. “Of course, my mom has a van, my dad has a Mazda, and Finneas has a Honda Fit, so I’m just, like, drowning in losers.”

“Oh, my gosh,” Maggie laughs at her daughter’s comments.

“All I want is a matte black Dodge Challenger.” Billie stops mid-sentence as her phone vibrates in her lap. Picking it up, she sees a text notification from Storm. “Peaches just texted me,” she announces to everyone in the car. Opening the text, she finds a picture. “Ahh, my best friend loves me!” she cheers, bouncing in her seat and tapping the roof of her dad’s car. She turns her phone to show everyone the picture Storm sent.

“She bought me gifts, decorated my room with balloons, and I’m pretty sure those are Polaroids of us hanging from the ceiling,” Billie gushes, turning the phone back to herself to admire the picture.

“That’s so beautiful,” Maggie smiles, clearly appreciating the special friendship her daughter shares, something many people long for.

taglist @allaboutnayeli @zendayasredbottoms @tacoboutstuff @jules19sstuff @siyuziii @danc1ngqu33n @christiniawcb @riddlette13 @thebignunfun @xxloveralways14 @lordfarquad-k @rhearipley-69 @danversrailme @amberg1998 @zzzz-zzz1 @htttpcasti @lidiyabest @wwelovergirl @lesbianpoetess @jamiemundy7773 @pixelorange06 @steampunkprincess147 @brbblog123 @h3artss44le @harajukub4rb1e @billiesrighthand

[yourmomwhitediamond]

Could I please request Rosie with a girlfriend who has a seizure in the middle of tea time? I had one yesterday and hit my head on the counter. Thankfully, I didn't bite my tongue for once.

Of course. I'm so sorry you had one, I'm guessing it was a tonic-clonic. I hope you recover soon. Make sure to get lots of sleep. Sending you my love x

Since I don't know what your warning signs or symptoms are (if you get any) before a seizure I'll base the build-up to the seizure on mine. I'd also like to say I haven't gone into depth with the description of the seizure itself. Please let me know if you'd like me to rewrite it because of this.

Includes: epilepsy/tonic clonic seizure, cannibalism and slight mention of death.

Tea time with Rosie was going as wonderful as ever, gossiping over your meal of several limbs. The main focus of the conversation was Susan and how she was being as irritating as ever. Everything was going smoothly.

Then you paused in the middle of raising food to your mouth, the dreaded feeling of a seizure coming. For a second you waited and rapidly blinked your eyes, praying it was a false alarm that would pass, but it didn't. You couldn't focus on Rosie's voice or features. Everything started to morph and distort. Her words repeated over and over in your mind like deja vu. It was as if you were caught in a reoccurring nightmare every time. Tears already threatened to spill as you felt it growing worse by the second. Muttering 'no' under your breath repeatedly

Rosie went silent at the sound of your food clattering against the plate and your murmer,"Darling?"

You covered your ears, signalling her to be silent and scrunched your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to stop the tricks your eyes were playing on you. The feeling of your head swirling forced a whimper from your throat. You were terrified. Every seizure felt like it was the last moment of your life.

You didn't want this to happen. You never wanted it to.

You heard Rosie's steps echo in your head and then the sudden feeling of her hands on your shoulder that made you flinch. She knew physical contact was out of the question in moments like this, but you needed to be guided elsewhere before it got worse. There was no chance she would leave you in that seat where you could fall and hit your head. That had happened in the past, with your first seizure. Any further injury during the seizure would cause more pain, she wanted to avoid that at all costs.

She laid you on your left side and went off to grab something to put under your head. By the time she had returned your small focal seizure had escalated into a tonic clonic. Her heart ached at the sight. Rosie could never get used to this, and neither could you. When she had settled your head on the pillow she had gone to fetch she knelt beside you. That's all she could do. Sit and watch your body stiffen and your limbs jerk while your eyes roll back and your lips turn blue. She so desperately wanted to cradle you in her arms and whisper that all would be well as she ran her fingers through your hair.

Even when you woke she couldn't do that. She would have to wait until you had calmed and fallen asleep, unless your stomach decided otherwise. It was unlikely you'd be sick, but the chance of it happening wasn't zero.

When you did come around and come to terms with what happened tears pricked at your eyes. The migraine had already started to settle in at the back of your eyes and so had the pain of inner cheeks from the gnashing. Thankfully, not your tongue this time.

Then you forgot it all. Your mind went blank but Rosie knew what was coming.

"What happened?" You asked in a daze, lifting your head then feeling the aching in your body.

"You've had a seizure, my sweet"

Your head flopped back as Rosie's words sunk and that process repeated a couple more times. You'd stare off momentarily, forgetting everything that had occurred, ask Rosie what had happened, and have a little cry. This part would determine how much the seizure had affected you, and with how many times this action repeated she gathered it would take you some time to fully recover. Perhaps a day or two at the least.

Once everything slipped from your mind one last time and you fell asleep Rosie moved you. With a hand under your legs and the second behind your back, she carried you to the bedroom making sure your limp head rested on her shoulder.

Only you were set down safely on the bed did she change you into some nightwear, the most embarrassing process of the seizures in your opinion. Yes, Rosie is your girlfriend and she had seen your body before, but that didn't make it any less humiliating. She handled you as like fine china or a porcelain doll, despite knowing not a single noise or movement would wake you. She tucked you into bed moving the few stray strands of hair behind your ear and pressed her lips against your temple.

Despite not wanting to leave your side she had to go clear the table and fetch the pain relief medication you'd be needing in the morning. She was quick to do those things and return to you.

At first, she sat in a chair facing the bed, reading whilst she watched over you, but she later decided she couldn't let you lay there alone with no comfort, so she got herself ready for bed. There was no reason she couldn't get some shuteye beside you, it was neither late nor early, therefore the perfect time to settle down for the night.

With herself changed for sleeping and your medication and drink on the bedside table, she snuggled up to you. She was the big spoon, as per usual. Her arms found purchase around your stomach and her face buried into your neck. She sighed, relieved you were still with her, and shut her eyes to join you in sleep.

For anyone who doesn't understand the description I have given for the seizure. Most of the time there is a lot of teeth grinding (in tonic-clonic/grand mals), resulting in the person's tongue and inner cheeks being bitten (sometimes causing bleeding). Around the lips will go blue, but that doesn't mean they're choking (unless they aren't on their side), so don't put your fingers in their mouth otherwise you'll get yourself hurt. You shouldn't restrain the twitching/jerking, try to wake them, move them during the seizure (unless absolutely necessary) or give them any food and drink until they have fully come around. Always lay the person on their side, in the recovery position. If they get to the five minute mark call an ambulance. SUDEP isn't common but can happen (research says 1 in 1000 people with epilepsy will die). Seizures aren't just about flashing lights and body jerking. There are different triggers and so many more types of seizures, each are different in their own way. They are embarrassing for the person and rob them of their freedom and independence. Please do your research.