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shwarmii · 11 months ago

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You know the books and like Clarisse and I haven't read the books yet, so maybe you can explain something for me? They say the gods don't always claim their kids especially if they don't have 'glory' yet, and they say (and I see on tumblr) that Ares doesn't like his girls, and he's overly mean and almost abusive to Clarisse, but she's HIS.

Does it ever say when/why he claimed her? Was it a possession thing even though he doesn't at first like her or approve of her? Did she do something special and he went yup that's my kid I guess?

this ask is referencing this post

oooooh, okay, uh... important things to note: (1) i have chronic memory loss, (2) i havent read these books in years, so let's see how i do from what i remember lmao

regardless, thank you for asking me a question! very sweet that you thought id have the answer

the answer will be a bit of a spoiler in terms of world-building, so lemme just

⚠️ pjo world-building + mild plot spoilers below ⚠️

so, the last book in the first series ("Percy Jackson and the Olympians") reveals most of the unclaimed kids are actually the demigod children of minor gods

these minor gods were implied to have been fearful of what might happen to their kids if their kids were claimed. because then, their kid would need their own cabin, and a minor god getting a set-up right next to the big 12 could cause anyone in said big 12 to percieve that act as a slight, and might take out that fury on either the said minor god in question OR their newly claimed kid. not even Hestia had a cabin for her kids, and she used to be in the main 12 until she stepped down for Dionysus to be amongst the big 12 instead (when the minor gods are allowed cabins, she gets cabin 21). Percy Jackson is the one who makes the demand that every god claims their kid within a time-frame of arriving at Camp Halfblood, which then gives the minor gods a pass to claim their kid without being worried they or their child will be punished for doing so

Riordan makes this a very small reveal, considering how important it is. but Percy isn't friends with any unclaimed kids really, all the people Percy meets who are new to Camp get claimed within the book they are introduced in. so there's no one to really be our emotional throughline for that reveal, nobody for fans to theorize who such-and-such's godly parent might be. it takes up only a few paragraphs, unfortunately, not much; definitely not a full chapter. i dont remember if there were any stragglers from the big 12's kids who had been unclaimed up to that point? i dont think there were many, if any. it sets up and disillusions in one go that the whole "you get claimed if you are worthy" as having been an assumption the kids made to find "logic" (in a self-deprecation way, similar to how divorced kids or kids of a single parent may "logic" their parental situatuon as their own fault) to their unclaiming

however, the toxic notion of "achieve glory = godly parental attention" is still prevelant in the claimed kids too. it is why Clarisse targets Percy; he comes into camp having already fought a minotaur and won? him doing that sets off her insecurities about not being worthy and makes her jealous, which is why she goes after him so often before Percy's first quest. there's very few chances for kids at camp Halfblood to prove themselves, unless they leave; and they only can leave by either sneaking out (and dying, or at least risking death) or going on a quest (which also risks their deaths). so any chance to prove themselves for glory, in friendly or unfriendly ways, is highly covetted

i mention this because Clarisse HAS proven herself to her dad in some way. her electric spear is from Ares. now, because we dont get a lot of gossip about WHY Ares gave her a gift (esp since he isnt the gift-giving sort. he values violence/battle prowress, strategy, and victory (regardless of if that is an "honorable victory" or not)). she likely proved herself in an above-average way from her cabin-mates but not in a legendary way. if it had been legendary, we wouldve heard about how she got her spear when people were warning Percy about Clarisse. and we know Clarisse didn't earn her spear as a reward for a quest (or as "good luck" gift before a quest), because Clarisse's first quest comes in a later book. but yeah, makes it all the harsher in this world where it is so hard to get godly parental attention that Percy broke the one token of it that Clarisse had (and, no, Ares never replaced it. tho Clarisse does get a new spear called "Maimer"; but all the kids, including her cabin-mates, call it "Lamer" behind her back unfortunately), and Percy breaking her spear definitely adds to her hatred of him. so Clarisse HAS proven herself to her dad once. and it is unlikely that she did something so great that he claimed her and gave her a spear in one go. so the two (her being claimed and her getting the spear) are likely unrelated events

now, did she prove herself in order to get claimed? perhaps. the big 12 gods tend to claim their kids as a reward within their first year or less of being there (fucked up that Poseidon chose "good job humilating that Ares girl who misdirected her anger to be at you" for Percy's, but okay). it isnt until Percy Jackson wins the war that he demandingky bargins for all gods to claim their kids. but yeah, out of the big 12 (minus the Big Three, minus Artemis, and minus Hera = 7 gods), they all are decently prompt when it comes to their own kids. they are implied ot have been, at least. again, very few stragglers, if any, that were not the demigods of minor gods within the books

Dionysus especially was prompt (bc he is AT the camp). which, i know this is a tangent, but i gotta talk about Dionysus as a godly parent because the books barely do. but part of his punishment regarding being exiled to Camp Halfblood isnt just about his punishment being no throwing parties and no Olympus. his punishment is his own kids, and not in the way that initially sounds. Camp Halfblood kids dont live long. theyre considered lucky to make it to college-age, and absurdly lucky to get to their 30s. Percy himself never imagines himself getting older. this fucked up lifespan is resolved in many ways thanks to the "Heroes of Olympus" series. but, before then? Dionysus' exile is about being forced to be a present figure in his kids' life and watch them all die tragically young, being forced to help bury them. he's actually very traumatized from it all. he even begs Percy at one point to keep an eye out for any Dionysus kids during the war's final battle; and he even runs up to some of his kids who survived (i think? it was his twin girls?) and hugs them, crying. we dont get to know any of Dionysus' kids through virtue of none of them being friends of Percy, so we don't get to really know how Dionysus is like as a parent, especially as a godly one that is very present in his kids' lives. we get glimpses of him in the background, and for a guy who misdirects all his bitter anger about his exile onto the campers who are not his kid... he sounds lovely to his own kids? idk, thats at least from what i remember. shitty and bitter to other kids at camp, very loving in a quiet and traumatized way to his own. its not an excuse but it does make sense. (its also why he hates Percy; his presence means dangerous things will happen as long as he is alive, which therefore puts his own kids in danger. ...maybe thats why Percy isnt friends with any of Dionysus' kids, maybe he forbade them from getting close to Percy? idk)

but yeah, the big 12 are all p good about claiming their kids in the book, in retrospect once its revealed that the unclaimed children are largely the minor gods' kids. the timeline Percy forces them into does demand they somewhat untangle the "claimed as a reward" aspect too which is nice, they now just have to claim their kids p much as they are (unless their kid doesnt something great FAST), and not during a moment where it is good for the godly parent's image to be associated with this "moment of glory"

that being said, that doesn't mean Ares is a good dad in the books. the one moment we do see Ares and Clarisse together is in a later book, and she is uncomfortable in his presence and one time even flinches around him. i dont think Ares physically abuses his kids, mostly because i dont think he is present enough in any of his kids' lives to find a fucked up "reason" to hit them (i would not be surprised if the flinch and whatnot was from a sparring match gone too rough the last time they met tho). i think it is more so a flinch because Mrs. La Rue likely has gone after similar men to Ares, therefore making visual markers of Ares (eg. a leather jacket, motorcycle, etc) triggers to Clarisse's mind to be on guard as these other men have been unpredictable and/or abusive; and Ares hasnt been around Clarisse enough for her to trust him not to be the same nor does she trust him enough to be comfortable in general around him (as it's an Event when her dad shows up, not just some Tuesday). and that's in the books. thats not accounting for the tv show deciding "Clarisse will never be good enough to Ares because she is not one of his sons" (which i think makes sense in a representation point of view; but i also think it makes less sense sense about Ares specifically. because Athena is also a god of war, and theres even evidence that Aphrodite is/was a god of war when she was initially worshipped, so Ares is aware of women being equal and capable; Ares was also the patron of Sparta, which was the city-state with the most rights for women, one of which was that it was only one that allowed women to protect themselves against their husbands. and you could also argue, due to some of his actions in his legends, that Ares protected mistreated women. however, "Percy Jackson and the Olympians" states that Olympus' move to New York meant that the gods changed to better reflect their enviroment, and Ares is the most likely best-fit to represent the Western/American brand of toxic masculinity. so. his depiction in the books works well enough for a man still in an affair with Aphrodite who upholds glory in battle as the pinnacle of human greatness, and his built-up depiction in the show to be more abusive and sexist does and doesnt make sense. i care more about representation and a good story than i do have Ares be academically perfect to how we understand his lore to have made him out to be, personally). but yeah, in both versions, he's been set up as a shitty dad. he's inattentive and lacking self-awareness at best (and, again, is still actively having an on/off affair with Aphrodite, which no doubt complicates his kids' feelings for him the same way any irl dad cheating and/or paying more attention to his girlfriend than to his kids would) in the books. which does then feed into Clarisse's relationship with him. Ares, like many of the gods, sees their kids as extentions or representations of themselves. so its good when things are good and you make them proud, but then anything you do badly then "reflects badly on them too" which can be really damaging to a kid

the only gods we see as exempt from this mindset of extension/representation (other than obviously Hera and Artemis, as neither have any biological demigod children. Artemis does have her mistresses of the hunt tho) is arguably Dionysus as aforementioned, kind of Poseidon as he keeps trying to connect with Percy (also maybe Hades for the same? we don't see him a lot, so it is hard to tell), as well as Apollo kind of? Apollo had his initial personality kind of backtracked and retroactively better-dad-ified, as he got his own POV book series ("The Trials of Apollo"), which includes a very heartfelt scene for when he got reunited with his son, Will Solace. so the gods arent terrible parents with all the same ideaologies, but they are absent more than they are present (with the exception of Dionysus, whose punishment is to be present and get attached 💔 not an encouraging move, guys)

which brings up another important point: that we dont really get other points of view in the first series, Percy is all we get. and though Clarisse is his ally (i love that Riordan did not have her betray the camp for the war in the first series. she just doesnt fucking like Percy lol), she is his most argumentative ally. in order for the reader to know Clarisse's backstory and know if she had to earn her claiming or not (which again: i dont think she had to. she may have been manipulated to think she did tho via the whole "i will claim you as a reward/i will claim you when it makes me look good and i can have some of your spotlight" bit), as well as learn how she earned her electric spear from Ares that Percy broke, Clarisse or someone close to her would have to sit down and tell Percy about it. and Clarisse wouldnt do that because she is not close with Percy; and nobody close to Clarisse would do that because they know Clarisse would feel betrayed if they talked about her private stuff to anybody, Percy or otherwise. all we really know about Clarisse La Rue's backstory is she was born in Phoenix, Arizona; and the satyr who led her to Camp Halfblood was Gleeson Hedge. that's it.

and i have a lot of complaints about how Rick Riordan writes (mostly how he writes women and people of color, especially women of color. but other parts of his writing does suck too). and part of the novel aspects of the new show is it allows "Percy Jackson and the Olympians" have a new re-write with a team of writers (which does still include Riordan), so there are likely things that will be changing. hopefully, unclaimed children will have a spotlight (i would love to have a show-exclusive character be unclaimed, but thats unlikely to happen). again, i havent seen the show yet, but it is possible that they will not follow the books in the aforementioned claiming details and will instead go "no, all claimings happen in a moment of glory", rather than "it was going to happen if you were a kid of the main 12 regardless, and we are just waiting to do it when it most looks good for us to announce you are ours". maybe they will explain the circumstances around Clarisse's claiming and spear, i dunno. the first series of books are all written in First Person POV and limited to just Percy's, and the nature of television is to be more Third-Person Omniscient, so there is a good chance we will learn things outside of what Percy knows this time around

but yeah! that's the climate around claiming and parenthood at Camp Halfblood, which even impacts claimed kids post-claiming; and everything we know about Clarisse past and her relationship with Ares before Percy Jackson arrives (at least in the books, lol) if you read this far, i do apologize that this is very long and that i kind of meander into some tangents. i have a habit of overexplaining. however, i hope that makes sense!✌️

#never did i imagine id get asked a clarification question on pjo lmao #didnt mind it tho! thanks for the fun time ♡#clarisse la rue #percy jackson show #percy jackon and the olympians #ares pjo #pjo ares

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autistic-sidestep · 2 years ago

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questions about suranga ! why did they pick their name / do you think it fits them ? what is their gender & sexuality ? what are their (romantic) relationships like ? what is their motivation, either in general and/or to pursue villainy ?

alright let's go!

The name ‘Suranga’ when i originally looked it up while trying to name him meant something like divine? It apparently also means orange, which is funny cos of his arrogance and daring stats lol, though he was more of a bluestep when i first made him, so yeah, oddly fitting. As for why he picked his name, I think I decided it was a name someone he almost came to see as a parental figure in his pre-vigilante days would’ve given their kid, if they’d been able to have one. In some ways, that was his way of honoring them and it was the first thing that could be his (if also something residual from farm training and people-pleasing to need someone else to pick).

he could’ve gone for something more common but then again, it wasn’t a name he was intending to share with anyone else until ortega, otherwise, he was always giving fake names. whether suranga actually believes he still deserves his name, though, honestly varies with his self-loathing levels. this guy has so many complexes lmao.

Genderwise, it’s kinda a mess? At first seeing ricardo on the news gave him some gender revelations, starting to id as a binary trans guy and staying stealth with the rangers (and it was def comforting to know there was a fellow trans man on the team, even if he and sentinel were never close) but it didn’t fully feel right? Then post second escape and through puppeting yasmin he gradually realizes oh, the whole girl thing isn’t so bad when it’s on his terms (or close enough), yoink, my gender now. As yasmin he’s a lot more confident, so he basically trials things he’d never be able to do as himself through her and post-debut, he gets a little bit bolder with his own body.

i’m ultimately imagining whatever mess in books 3 or 4 happens if ace gets their body back like this:

suranga: sorry abt the whole bodystealing thing thanks for the gender tho

ace: ???

Obv with the whole maintaining two different identities thing (without even factoring in argos post-debut), the Autism™, and never really having a stable sense of self thanks to cuckoo training (plus SO MUCH TRAUMA), it’s hard to actually pinpoint what his gender is, at best i’d say something like uh, genderqueer/genderfluid?

Sexuality is similarly a very big mess. He’s definitely aspec/some kind of aroflux, and his ongoing secret crush on ricardo is a jumble of ortega being his first real friend (and not letting anyone else close enough to have other points of reference), and being a simultaneously touch averse AND touch starved mf, and also the gender confusion triggered by ric before even meeting him (‘do i want to be him or be friends with him??’) so suranga’s whole ability to determine if it’s romantic/sexual attraction or platonic feelings is very very fucked. With ortega specifically they used to be very close (he thought the world of him tbh), but with ricardo hovering since their reunion he’s trying to keep him at arms length, because he’s very aware how well ortega can read him. He can’t help but go back to ortega in spite of his efforts to stay away, partly because he wants ortega to stop and/or help him but doesn’t know how to ask, or if he can.

He’s honestly very clueless on the chen attraction thing. There’s the baggage from having known eachother back before, but also post-heartbreak he can better relate to chen (which includes a mutual hatred of stairs!) because of the chronic pain/fatigue problems he’s had to deal with, and spoon is also a big factor - he does prefer cats, and his own cat Fred in particular that stayed with elena after HB,, but getting to hang out with spoon is pretty good too.

As yasmin, he becomes very fond of mortum, but he’s not sure he’d call it romantic attraction, though they might’ve flirted a bit at the start. Suranga really enjoys the doctor’s company and respects her a lot, in part cos it’s so fun to nerd out over tech stuff, and there’s none of the baggage that comes with ortega. he’d rather not compromise that friendship by stringing her along, so I think he makes it clear at the gala on the feelings? i’m still working out his canon route, but for sure he tells mortum the truth in retri.

Also his flirting as yasmin bleeds over into his argos persona when he fights with argent. he def likes playing with fire lol. Romantic relationships are a big ????

However, in general relationship terms, he’s pretty familial with rosie and his crew, in part cos the dynamic reminds him a lot of the rangers in his sidestep days, and old habits are hard to shake.

Motivation tends to vary, but the underlying principles are that he’s very very tired and bitter and just wants to feel like he’s in some control of his life again/not powerless - the argos suit is in part a mobility aid, because it lets him do what he could as sidestep, and more. argos gives him a lot of freedom and at times euphoria, but also huge guilt, just as he does with yasmin. he's following the path of least resistance (fate motive), even if that’s driving himself (further) into a self-destructive spiral. at least it’s by his hand instead of someone else’s?

Basically he’s swinging between these two modes:

He also does a lot of joking to deflect from when he accidentally lets slip he’s not doing well (which is. all the time) which is probably best summarized by an excerpt from the Hoots scene:

Faulty logic aside, there’s a lot of anger at himself, especially his past self for his naivety and getting careless (as much as he tries to bury it, he’s still a hero at heart), but also at the Farm, but it’s not like he can really touch them. I have a soft spot for the outsider scar cos that’s the first one i ever got, and the whole disconnect from the rest of the world feels very very fitting, and coupling that with the suicidal scar (so suicidal from rebirth → outsider into retri), though I have tried him out with puppetmaster too, and maybe some parts from the hunger scar can work too?

idk if he'll actually remain driven enough to stick to being argos, but it sure is fun watching him be a trainwreck about it

this has been a (semi-coherent) ramble about suranga thanks for indulging me <3

#ramblings #oc: suranga fernando

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iheihairu · 4 months ago

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What's your relationship like with each of the Kens?

Well... Romantic, first, HAHA

Edit from the future: THIS GOT SO LONG, PUTTING IT UNDER A READ MORE. I'm so sorry, you opened The Gates 🫡 But hey! You can kinda get a feel for what they're like if that's interesting to you HAHA!

First, the alter that holds The Kenference isn't even technically a Haise fictive, but Haise is a REALLY strong ID of his. We got together before he kinned him! We did have a Haise alter very briefly before my time, but we found out later that this was just a fraction split off my baby. I'll keep referring to him as Haise because that's his role in the Kenference and still one of his biggest IDs!

So! Haise was first. We got together a couple of years ago after some identity discovery and system reworking. We hadn't really interacted too much before I settled into some new discoveries about myself, mostly because of my other intersystem partner, but once we did it was like a duck to water HEHE! He keeps me grounded and I keep him silly 🥰 He's still the "main one" that fronts and we spend Basically all of our time together. Chances are if you've ever talked to me, he's seen it. He sees all 👀 He's a lil snugbug but the Whole Kenference has a side of brat to them. He wants All my attention All the time and gets very pouty without it. He's made a pretty big name for himself in the "devotional" department; anyone will tell you he's on the obsessive side. He's my baby puppy boy!! He only bites Sometimes 💀 He's a Collie to me!

About a year into our relationship is when we noticed others. I think Reaper was next! In terms of actually forming a relationship I mean. He's big and grumpy and NAUGHTY and monotone and bossy. As I've mentioned, he's also their gatekeeper, and he likes to know Exactly what I'm doing, when, why, how, and why I'm not doing it with him 🙄 (/lh) Imo he's the funniest in their system. Look at this

What do you MEAN my dryest alter uses a bugs bunny ass meme 😭

Anyway. He DOES have a sense of humor but hes SO dry and monotone it doesn't always get picked up on. I however LOVE this he cracks me up!! His whole blog is sex and suicide jokes though 💀 It isn't TOTALLY his fault; we reblog that kinda stuff to his blog when we see it and he doesn't front a bunch, but that does mean his blog is... All too shocking...! (/ref)

He's very possessive and will growl at the others :/ He calls Haise greedy because he gets so much time with me, calls Kaneki (OG) "unworthy", calls Shiro "unsuitable", gives Kuu (240) A Look 💀; He's kinda a meanie but deep down he's just worried I think. He's a good boy, he just bites a lot more. He is Doberman to me

Kaneki, which is what we call The First One, started out a little clumsy, much to Reaper's disappointment. He didn't know what he was doing! It's not his fault! With some time and experimenting though, we got really close! He started to ease into things and confide in me some. ...And then he went full fucking brat mode. He is SUCH a brat!! (/aff) Snarky!!! Sassy!!! A playful baby!!! And I thought "oh it's because we're close 🥰 This is him playing with me! I'm so honored!" BUT IT'S BREACHED CONTAINMENT... Because he knows I'll back him up and that he's "safe," he's been snarky to people I like but in a MEANIE WAY... (Usually "in my honor" or "for my benefit") One time he told one of my friends he thought they were "spoiled" because I "let them get away with too much" when all they did was playfully hold my plush away from me 😭😭😭 He, in the same moment, said the words "can I give you some advice? Because I'm going to and I think you should take it," before going IN on them for confusing him and pulling him out of a book store prematurely 😭😭😭😭😭 He needs trained, he bites too much! He is Mini Schnauzer

Shiro is the quiet one. He is also super possessive but is more likely to remove me from a situation he doesn't like than he is to tell them off or anything. He likes to wrap around me and prefers to front when we're together Just In Case™. He's not terribly difficult to get along and with I don't think, but he's kinda cold, if he interacts at all. He mostly watches and assesses. He's most likely to get bitter jealous of the others. Why don't I get a tattoo of HIM? Why do I only have Haise stuff? Reaper stuff? Kaneki stuff? Am I avoiding him? Why? Do I know how that feels? When is it his turn? - This has started to ease now that we're established and I Do have things of him, but for a while that was a pretty big thing. I don't have a doggie for him yet! Maybe he can have the German Shepherd (which to me is Overall Kenference Dog) but Very Abused... That clingy nature... Protective and ready to fight

King and I have only interacted a couple of times, but he's pretty lighthearted and silly! We have a good time! I wouldn't say we're super close but the relationship is positive!

Kuu at first was very spooked. Naturally, I think. He cries lots :( But I've been making an effort to include him and he seems to appreciate it. He was distant at first. I had to slowly get him to warm up to me, but when I did he became another side hugger. He likes closeness 🥰 Every time he comes near front I get a bit nauseous from his stress levels, but it's nothing I can't handle. I take him outside on nice days and feed him sweets (a Kenference favorite) and fruit. His sense of taste is kind of dilluted I think though. All of the Kenference Loves food, but he's pretty neutral/uninterested... I hold him and rock him when he cries and douse him in every bit of affection I can. He's more of a lamb than a dog to me... I know he has puppy inside but it's buried :(

Ken is "certified chillest of the Kenference" according to another alter of mine. He and I mostly discuss the system, their progress, things he wants them all to work towards and ways I can help. Our relationship may not seem particularly lovey-dovey, but there's a certain level of security there in being able to discuss stuff like that. We have really good talks! And they as a whole have made a lot of progress! Even if they still butt heads a lot. He is shiba to me!

There have been some others that have popped in, but they're a little less "established" than the ones mentioned. A couple of doubles (a Kaneki from before the ghoulification that I've only seen once. A final stage Ken but he may have been a blend of Kuu and King. A Kaneki Black Reaper that was Very confused about his Everything). Some of them are flickers. Some of them get a little blurry, but overall we get along! We're at a point now that they rely on me to help them figure things out or ride the wave until they settle into something more familiar!

I love them all so much! I'm so happy to know each of them, and I'm glad I get to help my baby through this whole journey, because it has done a NUMBER on him. It's been a long road but I'm happy to continue down it and see where it leads!

#Ask #Anon #Moshi moshi #System Stuff #Haise #Reaper #Kaneki #Shiro #King #240 #Ken #The Kenference

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lxvenderhxzehv · 1 year ago

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Intro: Jim

(Keanu Reeves) [The Relentless]. Please welcome [Jim Dunford (He/Him)] to Huntsville, WV. They are an [55]-year-old [VISITOR] who lives in [THE COMMUNE]. You may see them around working as a [UNEMPLOYED]. They are looking for [Em Dunford] their [Ex-Wife] Poor unfortunate soul. We’ll see if they survive.

Name: Jim Dunford (Radley Killgraves) Nicknames: N/A Age/DOB: 56 December 21st, 1968 Gender: cis-Male He/Him Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual/Romantic (Potentially questioning) Personality type: The Relentless Relationship status: Single/divorced (Not officially he still thinks he's married to Em) Occupation: Unemployed Destianation: The commune

Jim Dunford grew up to two over barring and strict parents. Parents that wanted him to be the best of the best. Jim always rebelled, pushed back. He was the kid your parents warned you about in school. He was always getting kicked out of class, schools, even homeschooling didn’t work. Eventually his parents washed their hands of him and sent him off to military school. It was there that Jim began his training, bettering himself and his body. If you can’t beat them Join them. And Join them he did. When he returned to his parents he was a completely different man. Disciplined and clean just like them. At least that was what he wanted them to think, Jim was still the rascal of a kid at heart and as always got himself in trouble and involved with the wrong people or perhaps the right people depending on who you ask. One night while walking home from the bar Jim was Jumped by 4 men. Jim, because of his excessive training, took them out with no issues. He stood in the alleyway perplexed as a man with a scar across his eye (Think Typical James bond Villain) came out of the shadows and applauded “Impressive, your reputation precedes you.” .He was offered a position on the team as a hit man. He had just taken out 4 of this man's best players after all and He would be an idiot if he didn’t take the job. The money was good and Jim wasn’t opposed to offing a few do badders. For about 20 years Jim traveled all over the world offing whoever his boss needed him too. That was until he saw her.

He was supposed to kill her but the moment his eyes met hers in that scope something in him short circuited. No matter how hard he tried He couldn’t pull the trigger. He went rogue and somehow found a way to “bump” into her Introducing himself as Jim Dunford, a name he made up on the spot to make her think nothing of him.He fell in so deep and so easily. He was always told to never get involved or learn more about his Targets but now learning about and meeting Em he was beginning to wonder if she wasn’t the only innocent person that he had on his list after all these years. Suddenly he didn’t want to do it anymore. He didn't want to kill anyone anymore at the risk of killing someones loved one.

So he faked his death, sending a bloody letter to his boss stating that he had been killed in a “Freak Explosion”. He began spending more time with Em, taking on this new persona of Jim Dunford. Jim Dundford was a retired Military vet who was honorably discharged due to an injury and spent his time reviewing books online for some extra pocket cash and volunteered at retirement homes and soup kitchens. He had enough money from his actual Job that he could retire comfortably. He got an ID made and had someone on the inside help curate this whole new person for him. He got quite comfortable in this new life, with Em and not long after they got married. Everything was going great! Until it wasn’t.

With Em’s job requiring her to be out of town all the time, Jim was always worried for her safety, worried his boss would find her and send someone after her. He was always calling, always checking in. It was around this time that Jim began to ask Emma to think about settling down and maybe looking for another job. They never seemed to be on the same page one always working, the other always longing for more time together. Jim knew the marriage was faltering and they were pulling apart. It was when Emma left for a work trip and never came back that he began to worry. No contact from Emma was a bit stranger and her phone wasn’t even ringing anymore. Since that day Jim did everything he could to find her, Even coming out of retirement and pretending to be back in the game to use resources to track her down. After months of Dead ends Jim nearly gave up even planning on going back to work for his boss as he had been welcomed back like nothing had changed. He already had a family that he had forgotten had got him where he was today. When suddenly There was a new development, a ping from a GPS matching the one em had from nearly a year and half ago. It was positioned in the middle of nowhere in west Virginia. Bringing up old maps and revealing a town that was said to have been abandoned. The ping came from just outside of a town called Huntsville. There were multiple reports of people that had been near or around that area that had gone missing, just like his Emma. Jim Scribbled the name and the coordinates on a piece of paper and rushed to Find her. Even if it was just another dead end it was the closest thing he got to something.

When he got to the fork in the road and turned he was in such shock to find Huntsville was still very much a real place and there were people there still alive and living relatively normal lives. He quickly decided to move into the commune when he figured out what was going on with the monsters. It was fixing to get dark out he could look for Emma in the morning.

#huntsvilleintro #Face (Jim)#Musings (Jim)

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randombtsprincessa · 3 years ago

Text

Brush His Picture

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Words: 12.6k I am sorry for getting carried away...again.

Genre: Fluff, Angst cause it’s me

Rating: General!

Summary: Your job of writing a bio for Kim Namjoon is thrown for a spin when feelings get involved...

Warnings: It’s Namjoon. I have gushed. I am not sorry.

A/N: Firstly a warm and cuddly hug for @wynniewright for whom this fic is written. I enjoyed our conversations and look forward to more of those! Secondly a big hug and heaps of thanks to @casuallyimagining for the gif banner because I suck at those. Thirdly thanks to @thebtswritersclub for hosting the wonderful exchange!

Smeraldo Books, in your opinion, was the best building in the small corporate complex located just a little walking distance from your little apartment. It was slate gray; concrete and glass which gave off a cold, aloof appearance from outside, but when you entered it, it was rich creams, warm browns with tons of plants and flowers. The smell followed you, as you climbed up the floors, multicolored as should be the place where you entered new dimensions via books.

Your own floor was pastel blue, pine wood and deep tones of red and browns sprinkled here and there. If you looked hard, you’d find some pink nestled somewhere too. Today it was on your own desk. You had outdone yourself to be early today. You’d packed up everything you could think of in a sensible tote – notepad, tablet, pens, pencils, heck you’d even thrown in a sharpener and ruler scale. You’d grabbed your hello kitty travel mug, filled it with yummy hot chocolate with a touch of espresso and strode down the street to work.

You would be getting the first assignments of the incoming season today and since it was your first writing assignment overall, you wanted to make a good impression – a very good impression. Your pressed clothes and smart shoes were testament of your frazzled fluttering last night, preparing for today. Making sure you had everything; you took a deep breath and made to enter the conference room at the back of the floor.

Each floor had one, for on-floor calls and projects undertaken by the different subsets of the publishing house you worked for. Yours, in particular, was the same blue and pine, a long oval table in the centre with purple and blue mismatched chairs around it. Light streamed in clearly from the high wide windows, with glass animals on the sill throwing rainbows on the wall. In the very centre of the table was a vase, sporting the very flower that the company was named after. The ethereal blue petals blushing with pinks and violets at their veins curled delicately, recently sprayed to look dewy and fresh.

You adored these flowers; you had three pots of them at home.

***

Rena arrived at sharp 9:45. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek high ponytail that you were semi sure could cut if she – ahem, whipped her hair back and forth fast enough. You’d mentioned that during a drinking night, and had been friends since. She was your mentor in more ways than one, and you relied on her heavily, this being your first year at Smeraldo. Your appearance today would reflect on her too and you wanted her to know that she could trust you.

“Good morning, Y/N.” She smiled at you.

“Good morning, Rena. Any news for the morning?”

She shrugged, unbuttoning her navy suit. She crossed her legs. “I know seasonal meetings are important, but you don’t have to be quite so stressed about them.” She winked at you. “Don’t worry, you’ll ease into it.”

You sighed in relief. If Rena was this unbothered, you had absolutely no reason to worry.

Your steady breathing remained until about ten minutes, when at 9:55, the door was opened and the head walked in with her assistants and the other members of the floor. You shuffled to the front of your chair as the meeting commenced.

As Rena had said, it really wasn’t anything to worry about. Your head was chill enough when she presented spreadsheets, delegating people to watch the stats and curves before the real reason for the meeting was dealt with.

The ‘projects’ were the writing, the works, the foundation of Smeraldo. Every ‘project’ floor had three to four of those. The stars, who would usually grab the opportunity to head out there, do the work your creative writing professor preached about and bring in the digs. The rest of the floor was the sheep, handling excels and graphs – like commoners.

This season began with two fantasy drafts, both quickly given out to the oldest, most experienced Stars, no questions asked. They were to draft first, present later before Smeraldo published them under their banner.

“Right then,” She looked up. “Now, I don’t suppose you need to be reminded that last year we joined hands to collaborate with HYBE. It is an honor that they chose us and we intend to honor them right back, don’t we?” The words were intimidating enough for us to all nod.

“We have already worked with them so it should be easier for us to get going on the contract this time around. Right Kayla,”

We all turned to look at each other while there was silence from where the Head pointed.

***

As a part of the Smeraldo-HYBE collaboration, personal booklets for each member were released along with quarterly albums, as a sort of promotion. Last quarter, it was Min Yoongi. Now the big season project fish was Kim Namjoon. These works were separate from Smeraldo fictions but equally as important, and if the Head was to be taken seriously, even more so.

After all, BTS was worldwide famous. To do them wrong, would mean our name was mud.

Kayla was the third writer on your floor, senior to you and she had handled Mr. Min’s book. It was a given that she would take charge for the other member’s books as well…

…only…Kayla was absent…at a seasonal meeting…

The fuming ears of the floor Head suddenly told you that maybe you did have something to worry about. With all due respect to Rena, you quietly celebrated showing up an hour early.

“Where the hell is she? What’s going on?”

We stared back dumbly.

“She didn’t call in sick or called off today.” One of the assistants supplied helpfully but cowered when the Head glowered at her.

“Well, that’s all very well, but who do I brief now?”

“Not to worry, you can brief Y/N.”

There was a longer pause in which the members of your floor, simultaneously, turned to look at you. Your jaw nearly dropped, head whipping to look at Rena; the picture of ease. She looked at you and smiled.

To her credit, the Head looked equally thunderstruck. “I…Y/N?” she asked.

You looked around meekly. “Yes ma’am.”

She looked at you askance, before resolutely glancing at Rena. “You will watch her, yes?” At Rena’s nod, she turned back to you. “Miss Y/L/N, I won’t remind you that this project is extremely important to Smeraldo. I would expect your utmost best, understand?” You quickly nodded your head.

“You will be meeting with Bang Sihyuk and Namjoon himself in two days. All information about the album and the HYBE workings will be in a dossier in your mail. Don’t disappoint me.” she cast another look at Kayla’s empty chair, sighed in annoyance before swiping her files over to her assistant.

“Until next time, people,”

When the room finally emptied, you immediately turned to Rena, “Why would you do that?” You demanded.

Rena looked exactly the opposite of how you felt. Stretched onto your nerves now lay the weight of the world, your world. You had been thrilled to get an internship at Smeraldo, working your entire life around the business and after scoring an actual job here you had never thought that one day so soon you’d be at the risk of losing it.

If Kim Namjoon’s book tanked – you were dead. Dead, dead and very much dead…

“I told you, Y/N, you worry too much. This job is probably the easiest ever and since Kayla decided not to show up…I mean, come on, you’re one of our writers…the job was bound to come to you. Head madam just needed some time before she came to you. I hurried the process up. Besides, how will you learn if you don’t actually do the work?”

“But…it’s Kim Namjoon…” You mumbled.

“He’s hardly going to bite your head off, Y/N. Chin up and head to the meeting like the champ you are. You’ll be fine.” She tipped your head back with her hand before walking out herself, leaving you to scurry to your desk, feeling nowhere near as consoled as you should’ve been.

***

Two days in and you were getting dressed up yet again. Only this time, your nerves were sparking like a frayed wire no one was paying enough attention to. You chose a simple but professional outfit, worrying if there was any way anyone could nitpick on it. You ended up switching to something much more formal (and in your opinion, stuffy) attire in the wee hours of the morning, unable to get back to sleep.

HYBE’s building was situated in one of the most upscale business locales in the city. You had to take a cab to get there, already deciding that no way would you have enough time if you took a bus or the train. Already the buttons on your top felt like an over-tight corset. Thankfully, you seemed respectful and important enough to the cab driver that he stepped on the gas pedal, having you step out on the pavement in front of the building with almost twenty minutes to spare. You swigged at the espresso chocolate mix in your cup before stuffing it back into your tote.

You could do this. You had all the qualifications…if not the experience.

You could not possibly screw up that bad, could you?

According to the dossier, the meeting was set in the lounge, somewhere comfortable and open, probably a request of Namjoon’s himself. You knew enough about the man to take a guess.

Inside the building, security quickly but thoroughly sorted you out. You were patted down by a friendly lady, who smiled as she scanned you out an ID and rifled through your purse. She spotted your Hello Kitty cup and chuckled, giving you a wink that had you blushing all the way to where you were supposed to meet – directions given very kindly.

Along the way you knew. You knew that if you ever had to change jobs, you would dearly love to take one at HYBE. The place was an eclectic mix of practical and fun. There were artist posters and records and awards sprinkled around, the most prominent being BTS of course. Sunny gold lined the areas, with crisp blues and greens.

You might have even passed a little park arena.

When you reached the lounge, a sprawling area of lush moss like carpets and pink and purple art work on peach walls, there were only two other people in. The ones you were here to meet.

You recognized Namjoon from the door itself.

Insanely tall and thickly built in all the right places, he stood at a window. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his baggy khakis, a thin blue sweater hanging over his frame, hiding just how muscular he truly must be. Your lips twitched at the deep rose pink hue of his hair.

The other man must have been Mr. Sihyuk, grey suited and glasses perched on the tip of his nose, steadily going through sheaves of paper. Both men looked up at your knock on the glass doors.

Mr. Sihyuk stood up first, hand outstretched but his smile looked a little confused.

“Um, Miss Kayla…how nice to see you, again…”

It seemed like a question, his eyes scanning over your face as if trying to place you and you froze. Your hand paused just a little away from his, eyes darting around to the Idol who joined his CEO.

“It was wonderful to have you with us again on the bio projects for the albums,” He continued, seeming unfazed by your gob-smacked face. “You did a brilliant job on Yoongi’s. I was sad to be unable to meet with you before.”

Oh…dear…they didn’t know it wasn’t Kayla who was going to be on the job. Suddenly you felt like sinking through the soft carpets, right underground. They probably had dossiers of their own, with Kayla’s name across them. They didn’t know that she had slept in that one day and they didn’t know that they were now stuck with you.

“I’m – I’m afraid there's some misunderstanding, Mr. Sihyuk. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m afraid Kayla was unavailable for the project.”

There was absolute silence on both ends after you finished. Mr. Sihyuk’s shoulders fell at your words, mouth parting as his eyes went scanning you again. This time you could distinctly feel him sizing you up. His eyebrows twitched up just so.

“Well then,” The other man, Kim Namjoon, the one you were supposed to write about, extended his hand. “I suppose we should rehash that welcome. Hello Miss Y/L/N, my name is Kim Namjoon. I look forward to working with you.”

You jolted a little, even stumbling forward to shake his hand, now thoroughly shaken out from your humiliated stupor.

“Forgive us, we must not have read the email citing the change.” Bang Sihyuk continued, spreading his hands genially.

“Don’t worry about it. These things can happen.” You fiddled with your bag strap with a tight smile, ignoring the urge to sway on the balls of your feet. The thick tension had still not dissipated as the three of you stood in a triangle, wondering who was going to make the first move.

It had to be you, shockingly. “So, um, shall we begin?”

You were shown a plush red armchair, Namjoon and Bang-PD taking the matching sofa as you were given the preliminary data. A small biographical book of sorts, more of a booklet if you were being honest; talking about an important segment in Namjoon’s life and his process and journey throughout the inspiration and creative take of the upcoming album. Standard, new age stuff…same as Yoongi’s…you already had Kayla’s old notes on the write up forwarded in your email.

You scribbled in small notes in your notepad while Mr. Sihyuk slid a small calendar across. “This is the tentative production and release schedule that we want to follow. There is, of course, plenty of time for you to follow Namjoon around and get a feel of the work environment, the studio life and of course, Namjoon himself. You’ll have quite a lot of time to write. The book will be issued and launched before the press conference and promotions will be done along with availability of the bio in stores.”

You studied the calendar before slipping it into your bag. “Thank you, Mr. Sihyuk. This is most helpful. We’ll be starting work from next week then?”

You were met with nods.

“Well, I’ll be off. It was wonderful to make your acquaintance, Miss Y/L/N. Please, forgive us about the whole Kayla mishap.” Bang-PD stood, you and Namjoon following and with a parting handshake he marched out of the lounge.

You began to slide in your pens and notes back in the bag when you noticed that Namjoon hadn’t followed his CEO out. Instead he stayed back; hands behind his back, watching you pack up.

You glanced up at him in question, meeting his impish small smile with a confused one of your own. “I’m sorry, I just feel so bad about the…thing before.” He said.

“Oh please, really, don’t worry. I’m, like, very new to this so it was bound to happen.” You waved a hand, slinging your tote on your shoulder, preparing to leave.

“Drive safe.” He said, gesturing for you to walk before him.

“Don’t have a car,” You blurted out instinctively before mentally slapping yourself.

“Oh, do you need a car? I’m sure we can get one to take you back to the office.”

“No, no, please.” Your ears burned at the thought of taking one of HYBE’s no doubt lavish company cars to simply take you back to Smeraldo. “I’ll just take a cab.”

You didn’t wait for his reply, shooting a quick smile and wave as you nearly rushed towards the exit.

***

Next week saw a dip in temperature, with you arriving at HYBE wrapped in a coat and scarf. You pulled off your beanie when the kind lady at the desk handed you your lanyard, this time stamped across it were the words EMPLOYEE/ COLLABORATOR. It felt heavy around your neck, the figurative noose as it were, in case you messed up.

Namjoon met you near the reception desk, jogging over from one of the elevators. “Hey!” He smiled wide, rosy hair glinting under the lights. “You’re right on time.”

“Oh,” You wondered if they were watching you for slip-ups and punctuality was one area they were scrutinizing. “On time for what?”

“To meet up; it’s so cold we’re all taking coffee breaks every ten minutes. I thought we could just work in the café?”

Namjoon rubbed his large palms together, drawing your attention to his fingers – soft and perfectly formed. You cleared your throat, shocked at yourself – tightly smiling back.

“Sure, lead the way.” As if you were going to refuse a request from Kim Namjoon himself, you and he walked the same route as you had the first time you’d come here. Only this time, you passed the lounge and followed another hallway which led to what was obviously the cafeteria. The back was lined with counters and serving tables of buffets. There were couches strewn about, booths, and tables. You felt like you were back in school. You hoped the food would be better.

Namjoon led you first to the serving tables. Stirring himself a simple cup of coffee, he turned to you. “Anything you want, you can find here. Sandwiches, subs, ramen, noodles, yeah, we have to go out if you want something more…sustainable.”

“No, this is great.” You gratefully tore open a mixer packet of hot chocolate, bringing out your own mug to put it in. you’d sipped the drink in the journey over, before finally realizing you’d emptied it.

Your new muse raised his eyebrow at the Hello Kitty but didn’t say anything, only suppressing an amused smile. You pretended not to notice that.

Once you were sitting at one of the tables near the windows, you spread your recorder, notebook, pens and cup, ready to work. “Ok, shall we start?”

Namjoon took the final gulp of his coffee, nodding.

“Right so, you’re going to be writing the prologue of the book yourself.” You muttered, flitting through the primary requirements.

“Yep, it’ll be more of a front to my thoughts which you’ll be writing about. It’ll be a personal note to the members, the staff and ARMY from me. Something that is completely mine but it will set the tone for your work.” Namjoon turned his phone to you, tapping a note on it. “I already have the first draft for it. It’ll be revised of course but I’ll email it to you so you can start with that.”

You picked up your pen and then it was only Namjoon talking about how the primary idea for the album came to life and began to gestate in his mind. You found it incredible, how a small incident or a sound could inspire someone like that. You’d never had any experience that moved you like that. You told him as such, wistful of the kind of inspiration that might never ever come.

Namjoon placed an elbow on the table, looking keenly at you. “You’re a writer.” He pointed out.

“Not really; I am working as such, yeah, but I wouldn’t say I’ve been inspired by anything. You have. I think you’ve been inspired since you were…what, fifteen?”

“I had a different beginning than yours, yes. But you can’t compare inspiration with experience. Experience comes after inspiration. Before, there’s only the feeling, the emotion that leads to it. Would you say that you started writing out of just an everyday inspiration, or did you feel something for the craft that drove you to it?”

“I wouldn’t say that’s a fair comparison.” You fiddled with the pages of notes. “I know your beginning, of course, everyone does. I didn’t have that kind of harsh circumstances pushing me to motivation. To be very honest…I’d say I’ve breezed past life. I love my job, but I don’t have much to show in the journey to it.”

Namjoon was silent for a few moments. His tongue poked into his cheek as he regarded you shrewdly. Finally, he gave you a sweet smile, eyes scrunching and dimples popping. Your pen stopped twirling in your fingers, blood easing in your veins at the simple change of expression.

“And that’s okay,” he said, “Not everyone should have to suffer through awful situations to achieve things they aim for. Success shouldn’t be measured in tears, Y/N. The point of life, in my opinion, is happiness and in the end that is what matters; the fact that you end up happy.”

You blinked as Namjoon’s blinding smile dimmed, turning into moonshine as he ran a finger over the rim of his empty cup. The seconds stretched by, you silently removing your gaze from his and taking down everything he had said. Your eyes wanted very badly to return to his face but you kept them firmly on the page, pondering his words, until you realized through your daze that he was speaking again.

“I’m sorry again, about PD-nim and the whole Kayla thing. The email we got was sitting in the inbox but we weren’t informed and neither did we think of checking the company email before the meeting itself.” His voice had softened, turned apologetic that had you hurrying to ease his conscience.

“I already told you, it’s no biggie, really.” You insisted.

“It must’ve been nerve-wracking, especially on the first day.”

You huffed, air whistling from your lips at him, before acquiescing, “Yeah, ok, maybe a little.”

That moonshine smile brightened again, defeating the sun beams that streaked through the windows. “Allow me to make up for it by giving you a tour of our studios. Same time, tomorrow.”

At that time, you were only glad that you could gaze at his face without an excuse.

***

It took you a few days, getting used to the new schedule. You were used to the short walk from your home to Smeraldo. You were used to the morning crispness on your cheeks, the thud of your feet on the pavement and then the warm confines of your office cubicle.

The new pattern involved you having to catch a cab everyday to HYBE. It wasn’t too expensive thankfully, and the hours you spent in the expanse of HYBE, shadowing Namjoon to his haunts and work areas was starting to prove much more enjoyable and rewarding than anything you’d be doing in Smeraldo.

You were drawn into the chatter and gossip of the makeup artists, the lady who intercepted you daily at the desk struck up more conversations with you when you entered. She had a son, you’d learned. Her husband worked away from the city but he commuted every weekend and they found time for getaways whenever they could.

The most jolting experience was meeting the rest of Bangtan.

Namjoon had asked you to accompany him to one of the group practices and when you entered the huge mirrored room, you spotted the rest of the boys sitting here and there, some on their phones, the other stretching.

“Hey guys,” Namjoon slipped the strap of his work out bag over his head, turning slightly to the side to show you standing behind him to the rest of the idols. You raised a hand awkwardly, waving.

“You brought a friend?” One of the men at the back asked – Jimin, with his baby features and an inquisitive smile.

“Actually, this is Y/N. She’s the one doing the bio book for the album for me this time.” He placed a hand gently on your back, pushing you ahead when you failed to step forward.

“Uh, hi,” you mumbled, “nice to meet you all. I’m Y/N.”

“Yeah, Hyung just said.”

Your cheeks immediately heated, helplessly turning to the one who’d spoken.

“Yah, Jungkook-ah, be nice.” A taller man – Jin - smacked the back of the maknae’s head, before smiling at you. “It is very nice to meet you, Y/N. Are you going to be working while we practice?”

The gentle voice of the older man did wonders for you. Reminded of Rena’s composure, you immediately brightened, bowing to them naturally. “Yes sir, I am supposed to be shadowing Mr. Kim so…I hope you don’t mind.”

This made them burst out laughing – Namjoon included.

“‘Mr. Kim’, wow, Namjoon you’ve traumatized the girl. Please don’t be so formal, we’re not used to it.” Jin chortled.

Namjoon rolled his eyes, taking your elbow gently to guide you to sit on one of the cushions against the back wall. “You can sit here and watch. We won’t kick you in the face that way.” He winked and you managed a weak giggle back when you had recovered enough.

Why, oh why did he have to be so attractive? In those loose black shorts, that blasted white tank, you hadn’t been able to quite meet his eyes ever since you’d met him today.

You decided to obey the laws of ‘work’ as BTS practiced their routines. You pulled out your usual supply of pens and your trusty notebook and began to scrawl everything you’d observed, this time the process of choreography and how the dynamics between the group members and Namjoon worked in these hard routines. It took you about five pages, filling out and circling details that you would highlight in the bio.

Soon enough, you ran out of work to distract you. You folded your hands in your lap neatly, simply watching in awe. Each member hit the beat with a different type of attitude. If Jungkook was sleek as a panther, Hoseok was a coiled serpent, but none of them ever missed a beat. There was a tandem between them all, which made you sure that they took this very seriously. After all, they were known for their work ethic and it was their bread and butter.

They couldn’t slack in this just as much as you couldn’t slack in the bio.

Your eyes drifted back to Namjoon. Even though you knew, he wouldn’t describe himself as a dancer primarily, he was no less behind in his steps than his members. He moved with an awkward grace not unlike people of his height. God of Destruction – you remembered – and yet, you couldn’t help but watch when he moved. His chin jutted in concentration and you balled your fist under your chin, chiding yourself.

You were self aware enough to recognize the flow of your emotions and right now, they were particularly worrying. You were in awe of Kim Namjoon, anyone with any semblance of sense would be. He was intelligent, chivalrous, generous, charming, thoughtful, and humorous and in the days you’d worked with him, more than just books and music. He was a fun and charming person to be around and he attracted people like moths.

But…he was way beyond human leagues.

Someone like Kim Namjoon couldn’t be human. He had to be some eldritch being, put together into conception out of pure matter and stardust. There was no way his mind and his soul were meant to be meandering on this planet. And while you were aware he was far from purposeless, you wondered if he would ever be satisfied with his purpose in time.

Maybe…maybe not…

And you, as the self aware person as you were, couldn’t – shouldn’t – be having such tumultuous emotions regarding him. He was pink roses, a dusty shade of gold that had been polished and made to shine from a young age and he basked in the glow of adoration. He was at a peak you couldn’t hope to touch.

Never mind the fact that feelings mixing with work were always dangerous. You had no room for failure if these got in the way. You couldn’t afford to lose your job. You would lose everything you had staked and for what? You couldn’t throw your life away for an unattainable man. You sighed, closed your eyes and ducked your head before any of the men could notice your hard stares.

***

If you had to pick a climax for your journey with Namjoon, you’d pick the day he texted you a weekly schedule filled with interviews and media covered events that you couldn’t shadow him to. What would you do? You couldn’t exactly carry a notepad and pens in your mouth after him like a loyal puppy while he did his job. The interviews were okay, all you had to do was stand at the back behind the camera and note the way he answered his questions and if it was an English interview, the way he deflected stupid and rude questions from his members. Although it was clear by their now unimpressed faces they knew exactly what was going on.

The trouble was the red carpet event that you couldn’t push through. It would be a shame too, since this would be one of the prime times to jot a piece of Namjoon down. In front of flashing cameras, strutting with his head held high, knowing and projecting assurance. It would’ve been a great detail in the bio.

Apparently Namjoon thought the same, because as soon as he saw blue ticks in your text chat, he called you.

“So, what do you think?” He asked.

“About what, the event…? It’s too bad, I’ll watch it on TV and you can tell me how it goes over ice-cream.” You answered, in the face of his snort.

“Or…you could just come with me as my plus one. As a friend, of course, you can sit with that little note of yours and keep writing while people scream in my ear.”

You clutched the phone hard. He wanted you to come with him? He wanted to take you with him to an event? A red carpet event at that…on his arm, with people around…but as friends of course…

“Um…it’s kind of short notice…I don’t even have a dress.” You hedges unsteadily, hoping he didn’t notice the abrupt breathiness of your voice.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I have a fashion extraordinaire handy. Text me your dress size,”

The next you heard from Namjoon was when a huge, pure white box made its way to your apartment door. The delivery man took your signature on a tablet, wearing a sleek blue shirt and pressed pants that nowhere in the world could be a uniform for couriers.

You carried the heavy box to your couch in confusion, fingers fluttering with the navy blue ribbon around it in trepidation. Should you dare open it? It looked very expensive. Maybe this was a mistake and it got delivered to you in a mix up. But it couldn’t be. The name on the tablet was yours, the address yours…

You took a deep breath and pulled the knot loose.

The ribbon fell away gracefully, the top of the box grasped in your fingers and then you opened it up.

If you weren’t holding your breath…you’d have gasped.

Inside was a gown. Ok, that was a massive understatement. The fabric was thick, layers and layers of silk and glitter draped over each other to make a thing of dreams. The delicate straps of it felt like gauze, slipping over your skin when you pulled it out in pure awe.

You couldn’t possibly wear something like this. You could never pull it off. You glanced at the mirror near your door, the skirts catching the light of your room and sparkling.

You’d be wearing a million stars sewn on your body.

Your phone chimed the very moment your weak fingers were about to drop the dress, a sacrilege that proved you unworthy of it.

Hope you liked it J I’ll pick you up at 7.

And he didn’t take your calls. He didn’t hear you out. He didn’t listen to you list the reasons why you couldn’t do this, shouldn’t do this.

Your heart was already beating drums in your chest, each set letting you know that it was misreading this gesture. Namjoon wasn’t wooing you with this dress. He was simply making sure you didn’t look like a garbage can next to him. After all, red carpets meant celebrities, paparazzi, superior expectations. He couldn’t afford to show up with someone looking like they had barely been able to put together an outfit fit for the walk.

After hours of trying, at five you gave up, beginning to get dressed.

You washed and dried your hair, putting it up in a roll that was easy and you had mastered for your interview. It couldn’t be faulted…maybe it was a little simple but hey, you hoped the attention wouldn’t be on your hair. Not with that dress…

As you had guessed, the dress was heavy, weighing your body down till you had to carefully bunch handfuls of the sparkling skirt just to walk. You paired it with the lowest heels you owned, and a simple silver set – a gift from your parents upon graduating.

The brilliant shade of lipstick applied, you prayed and prayed that Namjoon wouldn’t find you disappointing. Of course, only so; that you wouldn’t be a source of embarrassment to him and HYBE and Smeraldo. It had nothing to do with you wishing you could be swallowed by the earth if Namjoon looked even slightly put off.

He arrived sharp at seven, even climbing out to greet you. Your trip in the elevator had been thankfully solo. No peeking neighbors to comment on your appearance but of course the building manager caught sight of you, gaping through the glass door of his office. You hoped he wouldn’t attempt to raise your rent.

Sleek and pristine in a black suit and silver shirt, open at the throat, your breath did catch at the vision he made. His hair was pushed back now and he grinned when you slowly tottered over. “Hi,” he said simply, eyes glinting in the glow of the dress.

“Hey, you didn’t take my calls.” You blurted out, again wanting to smack yourself.

“Yeah, I’m sorry; I got busy with speech training and fittings. They messed up though; I’m wearing shoes one size big.” You and he both glanced down at the polished black shoes with silver toes. you shook your head at the distraction.

“Namjoon, this dress…it’s too much; I can’t say anything right now but thank you.”

“Don’t thank me – it was Taehyung who picked it out.” His eyes moved down the dress before he looked away suddenly, hand moving to rub his neck. “You look great – beautiful, I mean.”

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?”

Namjoon helped you climb into the car, bending down so he could collect about nine drapes and pleats of silk to lay them on the car floor before shutting you in. You glanced at the driver of the Cadillac that Namjoon had brought and decided to stay mum for the drive.

The sprawling expanse of the hall where the gala was taking place sent you into nervous jitters. You touched the edge of the top, wondering if it was tight enough, if the necklace was enough to draw attention away. Of course, the dress was the highlight of your outfit, but suddenly all you could think of were the faux pas that could get you kicked out and possibly fired.

You had no time to turn to Namjoon with these worries, to beg him to allow you to stay in the car when valets were opening the doors.

Flashing lights, camera with too bright heads blinded you momentarily and all you heard was a quiet ‘wait’ from Namjoon before he was exiting the car.

He shot easy smiles at the front line of the media before turning to assist you. Maybe they realized that Kim Namjoon had indeed brought someone with him because the screams increased in pitch and volume, deafening you as well.

You were completely disoriented when you felt Namjoon’s arm go casually around your waist, one hand still holding your skirts so he could walk you at least to the main photo calls and away from the paps.

“Hey, easy, okay, they’re always like that. Are you okay?” Namjoon mumbled in your ear when you were a safe distance away, turning you to face him.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay…I just…wow, it’s a lot to take in.” You grabbed the skirts that Namjoon had let go and began to set them around you properly.

“Okay, all we have to do is walk this bit, get some photos, talk to that man at the end and then we can head in.”

You followed Namjoon's instructions quietly. Smiling lightly, when Namjoon posed in the centre of the carpet with the logo of the sponsors behind you two; Your posture probably wasn’t the most glamorous because the camera man shrugged before letting you pass – to the interviewer.

“Kim. Namjoon.” The white suited man gasped as if Namjoon had just landed from outer space and said something scandalizing.

“Oh dear, should I be worried?” Namjoon laughed breezily but his hold on your back stiffened.

“Not at all, it seems…who is the lucky lady? We’ve never seen you. Are we finally seeing the elusive RM being snatched up off the market?” The man took the time to level a polite smile at you before Namjoon waved his hand.

“Rubbish; I could never hope to snag someone like her. This is my friend; she’s accompanying me as part of a job.”

You noticed he never gave your name, thankfully.

“Ah…just friends? Pity, you look stunning together.”

“She is stunning but I would never claim to be as lucky as that. Do please excuse us, heels and all.” The interviewer laughed as Namjoon ushered you inside the hall.

Your smile had glazed over by now and when Namjoon sat you in one of the chairs next to him, you made sure to not move too much while he had to mingle.

As heavy as the gown was, the weight of it was something completely different now. Your wings had wilted back into nothingness, bringing you down to the earth with a less than pleasant thump.

Here, in the hall with actual stars around you, it didn’t matter if stars covered your body tonight. You couldn’t be part of this. You belonged in your cubicle at Smeraldo with books that had been your lifelong companions.

You weren’t stupid. You knew Namjoon being an idol was a consequence as well as reality. His proximity had blinded you, with those bewildering smiles and irresistible dimples. He’d poetically woven a spell that with him being now gone was breaking.

You were worlds apart.

Maybe this could be a story someday.

But it would never be reality.

***

Your realization couldn’t have come at a more opportune moment. As days went by, time spent with Namjoon waned; instead you went back to your little pastel cubicle, typing away at your laptop, pouring facts mixed with sentiment onto the digital document.

Soon, pages of this would be flying off the shelves along with an album. Your connection with Namjoon would be severed and you both would part ways as acquaintances.

That would be that. You tried not to think too much of it like that. It colored your work a little melancholy and you’d have to go back and redo it so it would be upbeat.

It was one of those days of you clacking away when a shadow fell over your cubicle. You didn’t lift your eyes at first, engrossed in the mild noises your keys made when the presence started to…feel hostile. You glanced up curiously, meeting the curve of an arm first and perched on it, was the weight of Kayla.

She wasn’t looking at you; instead her eyes were on the screen of your laptop, reading your work with a tilt to her head that – to you – was condescending.

“Kayla,” You called in confusion and her eyes flitted to you.

“Carry on, carry on, I’m just going to watch. I want to see how you’re going to do this.” Maybe you were paranoid…but she definitely sounded snide.

“Do what, type…?” you mumbled under your breath, about to turn back to work but she heard you and decided to answer.

“I want to see the new worker ruin Namjoon’s story. That way we can all go back to our normal lives.”

You stopped. Your eyes widened in surprise at the blatant vehemence. You turned to her.

“Excuse me, but I’m not ruining anything. It was you, who decided to sleep in and you who missed the meeting. If anything, you’re the one who ruined your shot.”

“It wasn’t a ‘shot’ for me, Y/N. It was a guaranteed project. I was sick, it happens. I’m just surprised they let the newbie take on such a big collab. But then again, being a lapdog pays in this industry. Connections are more important than talent, I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, you definitely would be the one doing Namjoon’s story justice with that attitude.” You snapped back. If there was one thing you wouldn’t stand for, it was her sullying Rena.

She smiled again, removing herself from your cubicle wall. “Petty fights don’t matter to me, Y/N. I’m still your senior and soon enough I’ll be back to doing my rightful share of work.” She walked off in a very final manner, leaving you to stare after her a good while before you could turn back to your screen.

The blinking cursor taunted you, each second that passed without it budging, a point in proving that Kayla may have been right. You growled internally, rubbing your dry eyes.

You needed a change of view.

***

Your laptop was now perched on the same table you and Namjoon had sat on that first day. Your back was to the rest of the café, eyes free to drift out the window. You sipped on a simple smoothie and tapped away, making good progress. At this rate you could hand in the first draft in less than a week. A hundred pages worth of a booklet formed much easier when your mind was clear. You wondered again if you could change places here.

You hoped at least this way you’d be safely out of Namjoon’s path and could also enjoy the lovely environment of the building. After all, one sin didn’t have to equate to ditching another, did it?

No sooner had your mind finished that thought when you heard his voice. Your fingers rattled over your keyboard, printing the stupid version of words on your screen and you had to halt in case he had seen you and was coming over.

When you didn’t hear that cheerful deep voice that was now uncomfortably familiar to you approach from behind, you took the chance to peek over your shoulder, just to see how he was – just that.

He wasn’t alone, thankfully. Next to him stood another familiar figure; much shorter and just as broad. Min Yoongi hadn’t been very verbose with you when you’d been introduced but then again, you knew the man wasn’t a fan of small talk with strangers. He was under no obligation to chat you up and you weren’t expecting him to either.

They finally picked up their orders, sitting at one of the tables in your line - Comfortably far away so that they wouldn’t notice you; but also within earshot of you. You sighed, returning your attention to the document on your screen.

“So, how’s the book coming? Any news yet?” You heard Yoongi’s baritone.

“Not yet, but I’m sure it’s going to come along fast. Give or take a few days maybe,” Namjoon took a loud gulp, scrolling through his phone.

“I hope so. She was new, wasn’t she? I didn’t remember seeing her when it was my turn. It was that other girl…Kayla something. What’s your girl’s name again?”

You silently cleared your throat, expecting Namjoon to snap in that you weren’t ‘his girl’ but he only hummed. “It’s Y/N. We messed up that day, called her Kayla. Guess we must have thrown her off her game that whole day, but she was amazingly professional. It was stupid too, that email was sitting right in the office email, and an intern missed it and didn’t tell us.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t treat your workers right. Even interns are deserving of respect. Maybe if they were catered to the way the company expects them to cater to it, it would -,”

“Hyung, I love your rants – but please.”

Yoongi shrugged, taking a bite out of his sandwich. You cracked a smile, biting your lip to stifle a giggle at Namjoon’s dazed expression.

“So, what’s she like? You hung out with her quite a lot.” Yoongi’s voice dipped, muttering something to Namjoon whose fingers stopped scrolling, a pensive expression on his face now. You glanced back at your screen, frowning, wondering what Yoongi must’ve said.

Namjoon didn’t answer for a long time and you had to keep glancing over, just in case he was actually muttering too and you were just not hearing anything but nope. He remained silent for a good long while, staring down at the coffee cup in front of him.

“I think…I think I would’ve preferred to work with this Kayla.”

You froze, your fingers hovering over the keys, making zero noise. You wished the other people in the café would quiet down and Namjoon would repeat himself but only this time you’d hear something else, something positive, something not so utterly crushing.

“Oh, she’s not up to the standard?” Yoongi asked.

“It’s…its stupid. I know it’s a shitty thing for me to say, but -,” But he was still going to go ahead and do it. He was still going to get those words out, unaware that you were able to hear him and have your gut wrenched.

What was wrong with you? Why were you not good enough to work with Kim Namjoon? Was it the rambling or blurting out thing? Was it the inability to retain composure? Had you messed up during a meeting that he was holding a grudge against? Did you somehow embarrass him during the gala? Had he already complained about you to his management and members, told them that this was the last time you were to work with them?

They had hushed up now, clearly having a private conversation and you were thankful. You didn’t know how you could handle hearing more. And you definitely didn’t want the rest of HYBE staff to hear how pathetic you were to their stars. If word got back to Smeraldo, you’d be fired. You’d lose everything.

You shut the laptop screen quietly, a hand sliding your things from the table top straight into your bag. Slinging your stuff onto your shoulders, you walked out of the room – out of the building – away from anything related to BTS.

***

You were resolute the next day, walking into Smeraldo with no words of greeting spoken to anyone. You got to your floor and then marched straight into Rena’s office, hurriedly knocking the prologue to the urgency of your matter.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Rena frowned, actually getting up from her seat when you stumbled in.

Something did happen, yes. I got way in over my head.

“I…I…need to um, change – the BTS project. I can’t do it anymore.” The words rushed out, thick and unintelligible but Rena apparently got the gist of it because she dropped her shoulders, crossing her arms.

“What happened?” she asked flatly.

I have a crush on my subject and he thinks I’m the worst thing to happen since the rise of patriarchy.

“Nothing serious; I just…I’m not cut out for this Rena. I told you that day of the meeting. It’s too much, I can barely sleep, can’t eat.”

Ok, provided that was only one day because your mind was too obsessed thinking about what you heard but still – you could definitely apply the cases.

“What are you talking about? You just gave me your stats two days ago. You were fifty three pages in and climbing.”

“Yeah well I’m not happy with it. I’ve been writing in a daze. Please Rena.” You begged; you’d have gotten on your knees at that point but mercifully, after about nine seconds of shrewdly eyeing you, she finally sighed.

“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed – and very, very surprised. You’re one of the better writers at Smeraldo, Y/N; I wouldn’t have pushed you for this if you weren’t. I believed in you. But I can’t make you work if you’re not happy and I certainly can’t let it affect this collaboration. It wouldn’t help anyone – so…fine. We’ll make the change. I’ll have the boss send an email…and you can personally go and hand Kayla all your material on the job so she can start as soon as possible. We still have time to make it up I think.”

You nodded, surreptitiously wiping a streak of moisture that had escaped without notice before you paused. And then you put in a request for Rena to consider before grabbing all your notes, drafts and your work laptop and walking up to Kayla’s more spacious cubicle.

She was reading a magazine when you tapped the side wall, eyes rising up to yours before her eyebrows raised at the amount of things you were carrying. Without preamble, you let them crash on to her neat desk.

“Uh, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not doing Namjoon’s bio anymore. They want you to do it.” Namjoon wanted her, in particular.

Kayla stopped scowling, looking at you in confusion before her face darkened again. “Listen Y/N, I don’t care much for charity -,”

“It’s not. I swear it’s not Kayla. I really, really can’t do it anymore. Please…please just take it off my hands.”

Slowly, her face cleared, eyes still examining yours for any insincerity before she picked up your notebook, carding through the pages.

“It’s a little shocking, I’ll admit but fine. But you…why are you giving it up? It’s BTS. It’s probably the biggest break you’d ever get.”

You shrugged, unwilling to converse more than necessary about this. “I just felt bad…and ill about it.” You didn’t exaggerate and Kayla didn’t ask you to elaborate. You glanced down at the biggest bag which you’d placed under her desk. The box was still exquisitely white and unblemished.

“Can you just do me one last favor?”

“What?”

“When you see Namjoon, can you give that bag back to him? Tell him thanks for everything.”

***

The days passed quickly, each one easier than the last as you decided to stuff your stupid, pointless feelings – hurt and otherwise into one single compartment: DO NOT TOUCH.

Namjoon had had to meet with Kayla quickly, to put in effect the plans that the senior writer was going to play with. She already had your notes, but they would still have to spend some time together just so she could get a feel of his prologue and run with it.

It had taken about two visits from Kayla before your phone started to act up.

He sent a text first. At a decent time…you were at work, taking a small break when the ping came. You promptly slid the notification aside and pushed the nagging in your head to look at it into that one compartment. An hour passed…then another before another message came. You couldn’t help but glance at the words even as you slid it out of focus.

Are you ok? What’s going on?

Namjoon didn’t text again for the remainder of the day and you heaved a sigh of relief. It would be easier to not mess with that box of goodies in your head if only anything pertaining to Kim Namjoon was taken out of your path.

Only…he decided to call you…

As soon as you entered your little apartment and took off your shoes, flexing your toes, the trill of your ringtone made you fumble in your bag. You almost slid the call to accept, catching yourself just in time when you saw the big white KIM NAMJOON flashing on the ID.

You stared at the name, a proverbial finger dancing over the latch of the compartment. But you couldn’t…you couldn’t mope over him again; you had given an entire day of wallowing up to his name.

Again, you heard him preferring Kayla. You placed the phone onto the coffee table and went into the bathroom to change.

Namjoon’s persistence remained impressive though. He called and texted every day ranging from thrice to five times. Almost every time you frowned. You had given him Kayla. What more could he want? He was desperate to know if you were okay, wondering if something had happened to you and that Smeraldo was trying to cover it up but you couldn’t bring yourself to put him at ease.

Also, it was getting steadily difficult to keep his name out of your life. BTS was worldwide, he was a global entity. He was everywhere…the media, the news, there were even fucking standees in malls for them.

But your job was keeping you busy, mercifully.

The day you had gone to Rena to ask her to put Kayla on the bio project and take you off, you’d also asked to be moved to a different section of jobs, just for the time being – till you could come back to yourself, or so you told her.

In reality, the editing and beta reader position that you now held was time consuming and kept you focused and engrossed enough to not think about the idol. Not every piece of writing was amazing, but fiction was fiction and you gladly succumbed to romances and fantasies that were wildly improbable - simply because they were possible in their worlds.

You could not be more grateful to Rena for this. You finished more than your quota of three manuscripts a day, sometimes even staying up at night if one was particularly interesting. You knew you’d have to go back to writing someday but for now, you wanted to do a good job so you wouldn’t let down Rena more than you already had.

You shuddered to think of returning to your laptop. It was a mistake to think that you were cut out for this job. There was a certain level of coldness required to be a writer – the sheaves of paper in front of you proved that. You had none of that ruthlessness in you. You were too soft, too sheltered. You had grown attached to a subject that you were supposed to present as facts. Instead you had painted him in a fantastic palette of misdirected emotions that he was under no obligation to act upon.

And so now you were hurt…and it was your own fault.

To write again, you would first need a spine, one forged in titanium instead of the malleable clay that had wrapped around the fingers of others so easily.

In some days of your ruminations…Namjoon stopped calling and texting and you were then rudely interrupted by Kayla, striding over to deliver news you hadn’t asked for.

“Mr. Kim took the dress back.” she announced as soon as she pressed herself at your desk. You looked up from your fourth manuscript of the day, peering at her through your glasses. Your back was sore and your neck felt lodged.

“He’s asking about you.”

“Okay,” you said slowly, clearing your throat before reaching for a bottle of water. “I’m okay.”

“He said he reached out but you never responded. Why don’t you respond? He’s obviously concerned.” She continued, putting an unnecessary emphasis on ‘obviously’. It irked you.

“He was my subject matter. Now he’s not. It’s inappropriate.” You barely kept from snapping, shrugging noncommittally. Kayla was still there, eyeing you in that way, that made you feel smaller than her.

“Well, I don’t think he feels it’s inappropriate. He’s enquiring about someone he considers a friend. He’s been known to care about friends.”

You put the manuscript down finally. You looked up at her blankly but she didn’t flinch. Instead Kayla returned your heavy look with one of hers, raking you down with an appraising look. After a few moments of silence she gracefully straightened and turned on her heel, returning to her cubicle.

You picked up your manuscript again.

***

The cursor was blinking again. The walls of your cubicle needed a wipe down. Some of the pens in your drawer needed replacing. You revolved on your chair once – twice – thrice before facing the darn cursor again.

It had been two days since Rena had asked (basically commanded) you to return to your original post. One because you had gotten through the work she’d set aside for you. Second because Smeraldo’s projects were lining up and they needed their writers to buck up. You being one of them now needed to get in the game.

Or you would lose your job. After all, even though Rena treated you like a sister, it didn't mean she was going to baby you forever. Her own job would be on the line.

So you returned, starting out slow, with slogans and advertising scripts. Only…advertisements meant media research…and you knew what you were going to see the first thing you delved into that.

When your phone rang, you were almost eager to get to it. Namjoon hadn’t called in a while – it was safe again. You glanced at the unfamiliar number once, curious before you pressed the accepted call to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,”

The deep thrum of his voice reverberated in your ear, travelling straight through your heart – setting it to thump unsteadily – and landed deep in your belly, burning uncomfortably.

Your fingers tightened around the device, unable to speak, unable to pull it away from your ear, unable to comprehend simply hanging up. Instead you helplessly muttered his name. The two syllables were heavy on your tongue, some emotion injected in them that you doubted he could sense over the phone.

It irked you that you had so easily been caught unaware. You had paid attention to every text, every call for so long, swiping him out of your sight to avoid the temptation and here he was, smartening up and using another number altogether.

You guessed his IQ really did pay off.

When he spoke again, there was no weight in his tenor, no sense of concern that Kayla had said he felt about your absence. If anything he sounded cold, indifferent – as if you were just another person he was talking to.

And you were...you couldn’t mean anything to him.

“How have you been? It’s been quite some time.” He said, formal, aloof.

“Yeah, I’ve...I’ve been keeping busy. What...about you? How are you?” You mumbled.

“I’m fine. The bio is going on fine, I heard from Kayla.” He seemed to be moving while he spoke, you could hear distinct shuffles around him.

“That’s nice. So, is something wrong? Did you need something? If you lost Kayla’s number –”

“Can I not call you unless there was something wrong?” he cut you off smoothly, pleasant while you stumbled to correct yourself.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just –”

“Anyway, so the boys wanted to throw a party in celebration of the album finalization. It’s a dinner and games thing so be prepared to be bored if you’re not into that. They wanted to invite you because you were part of the bio making process.”

They...they were inviting you, not him. It seemed silly, to be stung by such a tiny little detail but you couldn’t help the down-turn of your lips, the frown settling upon your brows. “What about Kayla?”

“I don’t know, maybe one of the boys will get to it. So, do I count you in?”

“Why me, Namjoon, I left the project, didn’t I?”

“Is that a no?”

You sighed, annoyance surging at the way he deliberately ignored your pointed remarks. “Fine, I’ll be there.”

“See you at 7. You know where the dorm is. Just tell the front desk you’re here for BTS and give them your name.”

He hung up before you could spill out another question, pose another objection. You looked irate at the blackened screen, feeling used and mocked yet again. He had reached you so long after you cut him off and he had had the gall to sound miffed with you? You stuffed the phone back into your back.

The evening would last long. You vowed that this would be the last time you would have anything to do with Kim Namjoon.

***

You had been intimidated by the idea of BTS before. After spending a few days with Namjoon, you could appreciate them being normal men, seven men who just wanted to make music, who were young, a little dorky but overall just themselves.

Coming here, standing in front and looking up at the gigantic building that housed the dorm of BTS and their separate private apartments, you could only feel the previous nerves spiking again.

Your fingers were shaky as you pushed open the heavy glass door, thick enough to stop bullets and made your way to the marble front desk.

The concierge, decked out in a cream vest outfit, politely smiled at your approach – too professional to not rove his eye critically over your modest dress. You were at the dorm of BTS, after all. You couldn’t show up in jeans for a dinner party.

He nodded when you relayed your name, giving Namjoon’s reference which had them flurry to get you an elevator. Once trapped in the sleek metal box, the chiming numbers indicated your rising panic.

What were you doing?

Why were you here?

You had cut them out of your life for a reason. Why would you willingly show up again? Inside, of course, you knew the reason. You had unsettled issues. You wanted to talk this out with him. But you couldn’t – which again, added to the question as to why you would accept his invitation in the first place?

There was no way you were brave enough to stand in front of Kim Namjoon and ask him to explain himself.

When the doors opened; the wide hallway only led to one set of double doors. You looked around once; just to make sure that you were on the right floor and not about to barge into some unwitting souls’ suite.

Walking to the etched wood, you knocked a hurried patter that sounded abnormally loud. You didn’t even have to wait long. The door swung open almost immediately, as if he was waiting right inside for you.

Namjoon stood in a simple black long sleeve, rolled up till his elbows. His jeans stretched tightly along the length of those legs. Huh, he was wearing jeans...go figure...

“Come in Y/N.” He said, walking back into the house. You followed, slower, clutching your bag strap like the first day.

It was...relatively clean, being the house full of men. It was also too big for you to take in everything. You supposed they needed the space, each one with a personality of their own but together all the time. You wondered if they had studios in the two storey house too.

You focused on Namjoon, who had by now moved to the sitting area, flicking through some pages, not paying any attention to you. There was no sound. No one came to greet you, not even Jin who you thought was the actual host.

It was...suspiciously quiet.

“Namjoon,” You called. “Where is everyone?”

The man only shrugged his shoulders for a second and it seemed that he wasn’t about to answer your question at all. However, at the very last moment when you were about to repeat yourself unwillingly, he muttered. “They went out to eat.”

What?

They were out to eat? After calling you over to have dinner and play games?

“So...we have to go and join them or something?” you asked.

Namjoon sighed painstakingly, as if you were disturbing his peace but he finally dropped the papers onto the coffee table and stood up, hands in his pockets.

“No, Y/N, we’re not going to join them.”

What the hell was going on here exactly?

“We’re going to talk.”

You had opened your mouth when he finished his sentence, pausing in contemplation to what he could possibly want to talk about. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying I want answers, Y/N. Why did you stop coming over all of a sudden? Why did you stop working on the bio and give it to Kayla? Why didn’t you pick up your phone when I called you? Why didn’t you answer my texts? What the fuck happened?”

You blinked, once, staring at him in shock mingled with annoyance. There was a lot to Kim Namjoon; you would be the first to admit it. But you never took him to be this cruel.

“Why are you even asking me these questions? I wasn’t competent enough for you. So I did the right thing, I gave the work to someone who could match your standards. End of story; I don’t understand why you had to bring me here.” Your vehemence faded by the end of it, leaving you to drop your head and mumble half the words at your shoes.

You kept staring down when Namjoon didn’t say anything in retaliation. Seconds ticked by and finally you had to glance up to see Namjoon’s face tight, jaw clenched and he drummed his fingers over crossed arms.

“Unfortunately,” He began when your eyes met. “Doubt and Insecurity are two things that every artist struggles with in their line of work. There are no ways around them; you simply have to push through them. Work through them, Y/N; but you can’t let it take you away from your passion. If you felt doubtful of yourself, you should’ve talked to me, or any of us...you didn’t have to brand yourself incompetent and give into this negativity.”

If you had two cents of courage you would’ve screamed at him. Indeed, Kim Namjoon was a cruel man – a blind man.

And your nerves had finally grown into something more ferocious.

“I gave in? I’m sorry, Namjoon, but when your client is the one that ‘brands’ you incompetent, you kind of have to give in. You are the one who said you preferred Kayla. So I gave you exactly what you wanted. So stop pretending like you care about my insecurities and my doubts.”

Namjoon gaped at you like a fish, eyes wide and thoroughly confused. He held up a hand immediately. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You snapped. “I heard you, that day, talking to Yoongi about how you would’ve preferred it if it was Kayla who was working on the bio rather than me. If I was bothering you that much or if you found me – I don’t know, not a good writer, you could’ve at least been professional about it. You could’ve emailed the company and asked for a switch, instead of bad-mouthing me to your damn members!”

Both of Namjoon’s hands were up in the air now, defensively. His eyes flickered around his house as he attempted to place the scenario you were describing to him. You saw the light bulb go off about a few seconds after. His demeanour changed immediately. His hands lowered, face cleared and his eyes scrunched before he did the worst thing imaginable that he could’ve done at that moment.

He laughed.

His body bent forward, hands clasping his stomach as his shoulders shook. His head dipped, chortles echoing around you as you stood rooted to your spot, stricken by his mirth.

In the moments that he managed to raise his head, he caught sight of you and laughed again, eyes watering.

You were seeing red. His frame lit up in flames in your head, fuelling you to whirl about on your heel. You marched away, almost at the door when fingers wrapped around your elbow, stopping your next steps.

You turned, seeing Namjoon already there, still smiling.

“Let me go.” You said firmly.

“I didn’t say I would’ve preferred Kayla to you because I thought you weren’t a good fit for the job, Y/N.” He said instead, hand loosening on your arm but not quite letting go. “I said it because...well, I was afraid I would be breaching our contract. Since...I kind of wanted to take you out.”

You stood there, watching Namjoon’s eyes flicker between yours, waiting for a reaction. His hand was still loosely cupping your elbow, fingers warm and splayed out over the skin. His thumb briefly brushed over the bone as if checking that you hadn’t frozen over.

But you had...you were standing stock still, staring up at the idol, uncomprehending the words that had spilled out of him. He had just said something very controversial, very brave...and very confusing.

You thought back to all your hangouts. The long talks that you scribbled down with your tongue poking out the corner of your mouth, the walks that you took, sometimes huddling together with shivers due to the cold weather, sharing hot coffees and chocolate ice creams. Telling him about yourself when he wanted a break and needed to listen instead of supply conversation. Then they changed to his texts, the good morning or good night texts that he would send, the occasional music recommendations and book suggestions.

And then the night of the Gala...that stunning dress...his behaviour...

Nowhere in any of these cases had you seen anything that spelled anything other than friends being friends. He had never flirted brazenly with you, simple banter being the only form of cheek you could recall. He was after all; your client and anything that could offend or upset him would result in your suspension.

“That’s...that��s...impossible. You never – not even once – I didn’t ever get the idea, not ever,” You fumbled over your words, pulling away or trying to once again but Namjoon shrugged, smiling sardonically.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly come out and say it, could I? You were working with me, for my company. I know the kind of pressure you must’ve been under. If I did say something, you’d have been obliged to agree because you’d think you owed it or something, just to keep the job. I didn’t really want to put you in the spot like that. The night of the gala I got carried away. I had a plus one and if I had to take someone, I wanted it to be you. I begged Taehyung to put the outfit together because I’m shit at high end fashion but you looked absolutely gorgeous and yeah, I owe Tae a thousand favours now but it was worth it.” He took a breath.

“I was waiting for the project to be over so I could actually, properly ask you out but well, I guess you heard me being an idiot that day and...” he waved his free hand vaguely.

“Oh,” you mumbled, your eyes leaving him and travelling back down to the floor. What else could you say? Sorry, I was eavesdropping on your conversation and got my feelings hurt and acted like a child? Yeah, you didn’t think that’d go over well.

“Which brings me to the question, why did you stop?” His thumb brushed over your skin again, prodding your attention to him and you shrugged like him, mumbling something about doing right by the client.

“Bullshit, if you wanted to do right by the client, you would’ve waited for me to say something. Changing people like that could’ve resulted in a breach lawsuit and I doubt you’d have risked that.”

You looked up at him again, irritated. Why did he have to poke holes in your admittedly stupid story? Hadn’t he shaken your world enough by telling you that THE KIM NAMJOON wanted to ask you out?

“You hurt me.” You hissed. “You made me think I was inept and it hurt my feelings because I’ve been attached to you and this book since day one. I finished the bio at home, for fuck’s sake. I lost objectivity when it came to you because you’re adorable, scary smart, caring, generous, a total goof and it doesn’t help that you look like a damn sculpture all the time.”

You yanked your arm one last time, successful this time around because Namjoon smiled widely, shyly, deep dimples poking into his cheeks that had you internally melting from how cute he was.

“I want to kiss you.” he said simply. “May I?”

What were you going to do, say no?

Instead, horrifyingly you started to sniffle. “You better, because I’m really ashamed right now and I will start crying.”

Namjoon was quick to cup your face, cooing over your squished cheeks in his large palms and he brought you closer, closer and closer to himself. Your hands clutched at the sleeves of his shirt while he pecked you lightly, dropping a flurry of equally soft and fast pecks on your cheek, the tip of your nose and chin before returning to your lips, delving deeper, testing the waters.

Your eyes fell shut, revelling in the plumpness of his lips as he delicately trailed them over yours, smacking kisses over you till you let out a giggle.

“Finally, she smiles.” Namjoon beamed at you, leading you back until you were gently propped against the door, your head comfortably resting on the wood and he deepened the kiss, bowing and moulding his body with yours.

“Should we be doing this here?” You asked nervously, when his lips began to travel over your jaw.

“The boys won’t be back for a while but we can head to my room if you want?” He wriggled his eyebrows at you, heat pooling into the skin he still held between his hands.

“Uh, I’m good here.” You muttered to his amusement. His eyes travelled back to your mouth, eyes hooding and then he was slowly leaning in again. You met him halfway and his mouth opened with the barest brush of tongue when loud pounding sounded right on the other side of the doorway, laughter and footfalls sounding the arrival of the rest of the band.

You moved away just as the door flung open, six boys piling in, “Can you believe none of us thought to grab our wallets, we have to go back and tell manager-nim to get the car again –” Jin grumbled with the boys stopping to gape at you in Namjoon’s arms as the two of you blinked at them like deer in headlights.

Then chaos erupted.

The whoops and cheers of ‘finally’ made you drop your head in a shy grin with Namjoon groaning behind you.

“Namjoonie finally got some!”

“OH SHUT UP!”

#thebtswritersclub #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #btshoneyhive #namjoon fanfic #bts fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts #namjoon x reader #namjoon

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rigelmejo · 3 years ago

Text

Audio Immersion Loop

I’ve read this suggestion by Nukemarine before, and I think its quite a good idea - especially for improving listening skills and reinforcing what you know into a more immediate-understanding. https://www.reddit.com/r/LearnJapanese/comments/886lfg/does_your_japanese_listening_ability_lag_behind/

The core idea is: a mix of ‘audio seeds’ (audio you’ve studied before and therefore understood before) and ‘other’ audio (ideally things you’ve watch/heard with english subs or directly in your target language before - so your mind ‘likes’ the material). He suggests 30% audio seeds and 70% other, though any combo may be useful and he’s not sure if another % split would be more effective.

The idea is your mind understood the ‘audio seeds’ before in study, so as you listen to it regularly without pause your mind practices understanding it quicker and without concentrating as much, then over time you hear words/phrases/sentences similar in the ‘other’ audio material and your brain latches on and starts trying to comprehend them too and practices.

I’ve very roughly followed this article’s advice before, and it started helping. So I’d like to make a proper list of what I could use for a full on Audio Immersion Loop that meets all these needs:

Japanese:

Audio Seeds: - Core 2k Pimsleur (audio directly from Nukemarine’s LLJ decks and because of that it should be mostly things I’ve studied before, or you could study using the Nukemarine LLJ Memrise Courses): https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/0B8cWM0WNU3s4eFdSMzk5Vm9HR1E?resourcekey=0-KVCnBQh3SJxhn2oCUC-SiA - JapaneseAudiolessons.com (not ‘pure’ audio seeds idea since this includes english, but would count as comprehensible audio). Link for meL https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1qoJ7B002ZEgyDvCnGyFXUS1u8S_qgoG2 , General link for you: https://www.japaneseaudiolessons.com/ - Clozemaster Radio Mode for Japanese - Well suited for this, since you can have it play audio of sentences you already studied!

Other Audio: - Lets plays of any game you have familiarity with/like - for me that’d be Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy X, Ratchet and Clank, etc. Also any ‘video game movie’ since it goes directly through parts you know. - Condensed audio of FFX (perfectly suited for this): https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1M5jdUQCM7O12r1X8np5y4ofkzBKMSdJo - Condensed audio of Death Note: https://www.paliss.com/episode/death-note-1615919536511x465432008057248060 - anything from this site if you’ve seen the anime: https://www.paliss.com/ - general condensed audio files: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1EMBr5yskSiBTZ-LUQtMY-r4AihRIJczJ

What I’d do: listen to Clozemaster Radio Mode Japanese, and FFX condensed audio.

Chinese:

Audio Seeds: - Chinese Spoonfed Audio (not ‘pure’ audio seeds because there’s english, but when I played this in even just the background regularly I saw listening skill improvements): https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1MCKgOxzW9cd1u9cWjzGwWrpxnL5pDz0w - Clozemaster Radio Mode for Chinese - again, well suited for this, as you have the option to play only sentence audio you have already studied.

Other Audio: - Guardian audiobook! by Avenuex: https://music.163.com/#/djradio?id=791802378&order=2&_hash=programlist&limit=100&offset=0 - Sherlock audiobook: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLVyDH2ns1F757P-m8MHckuIFqWapl6y-1 - Guardian audiobook by wheat (I really like their voice): https://music.163.com/#/djradio?id=794964371 - Silent Reading audiobook (note this is the same version as ximayala so if you have that then just search ximalaya this version has some sentences/paragraphs skipped): http://www.6ting.cn/books/59641.html - Silent Reading audiobook unabridged (UPDATE I am listening through this one while following the webnovel and YES this version actually matches the text): part 1 - https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1b5411N7aa?share_source=copy_web part 2 - https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1SX4y1G7z7?share_source=copy_web part 3 - https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1tU4y1p74y part 4 - https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1cy4y1t7cC?share_source=copy_web - Silent reading (on music.123 by 景喵- , I tend to prefer this site because you can still listen to it in a mobile web browser with it minimized) https://music.163.com/#/djradio?id=349361634&order=1&_hash=programlist&limit=100&offset=100 - Silent reading (on music.123 by 栗煜子) https://music.163.com/#/djradio?id=792725710&order=1&_hash=programlist&limit=100&offset=100 - Guardian condensed audio (my link, will not work for others, u can ask for a copy if you’d like I just basically ran the episodes and subs through subsrs, mainly to make condensed audio): https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/11J2qADG9rHSK_45rKpvVIpzXn8YYWhA_ - Silent Reading audio drama: https://youtu.be/DsdmeQBMD_M - Word of Honor audio drama: https://m.missevan.com/sound/2853120 - LiuLi audiobook: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLH_aGSaKXFeHSofRd4LF1Hl8fpCSREVBW - HP audiobooks: https://music.163.com/#/djradio?id=526222636&order=2&_hash=programlist - general condensed audio link for chinese if anyone would like (it has The Untamed): https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1LtZEKe9ItVg-H5q-G01YITLyfrWpOZR-

What I’d do: listen to Chinese Spoonfed Audio or Clozemaster Radio mode Chinese (whatever I could get myself to), then other percentage split between any audiobooks I’d want to listen to Guardian/Silent Reading/Sherlock.

French:

Audio Seeds: - Francais Par Le Methode Nature (literally made to be comprehensible, even if its brand new then Still just like chinese spoonfed audio files, it should be fine to just play repeatedly until you pick stuff up): https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLf8XN5kNFkhdIS7NMcdUdxibD1UyzNFTP - Gigafrench audio files (specifically if you have studied the related lessons already): http://gigafrench.com/construction/ - Clozemaster Radio Mode for French (however I’m not a big fan of my phone’s french voice)

Other Audio: - Dracula in french: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l0hdBpzGpYY - Frankenstein in french: https://youtu.be/8AP02iALr5A - Carmilla in french: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLpOWTYUar6NK8Qn7niKNw7Vp0z5YE5t7Z - Buffy francias: https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x42mdjh - Merlin francais: https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2crj9t

What I’d do: listen to Francais Par Le Methode Nature on repeat, spend other portion of time going through Dracula audiobook tbh (unless anyone knows an audiobook I’d enjoy more that’s easy to find).

---

As for me specifically, realistically what I plan to do for a while:

Listen to Clozemaster radio mode Japanese and Chinese more often in down time (make the most out of the fact I have the radio mode option lol)

Listen to more chinese audiobooks, in the background, any time there’s nothing playing otherwise. (Since I really could LISTEN more often, its super easy to do during work I just don’t do it).

Actual other materials in japanese and french I probably won’t get to for a while. But if and when I do, above is a good plan for ways to include more listening practice.

---

Overall, my main July (to maybe mid-August) study plan right now:

Listening to chinese audiobooks (so more listening in general)

Listening-Reading Method Guardian or Silent Reading (or honestly anything), just doing it when I feel like it or can. (so more listening and reading in general, along with getting through more of Guardian). This activity eats up the most study time.

Reading more chinese chapters (so more reading in general, I want to up the amount I’ve read)

Trying to use Clozemaster (Listening Mode and/or Radio mode) for Japanese more. (and chinese optionally, if I want) So more basic vocab/grammar for japanese. *italic is lower priority

Lower priority, but I’m also doing these:

Reading through japanese grammar guides (specifically finishing reading Sabuki https://sakubi.neocities.org/, and my Japanese in 30 Hours book). So enough of a grammar base to read more. This should take like 4 hours max to finish if I just sit down and do it.

Small amounts of japanese immersion (mainly reading) - right now its been playing KH2 in japanese, and reading Guardian’s japanese translation.

Translating Guardian print novel into english (so mainly reading skills, translation practice). This is much slower going than reading, so I probably won’t have much time for this project until I’m finished reading it regularly.

#resources #audio immersion loop #audio #japanese resources #chinese resources #french resources #rec list #audiobooks #condensed audio #july #july progress #study plan #july study plan #july goals

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calcifermovesthecastle · 4 years ago

Text

Plus One

Mista x F! Reader, College AU

nsfw, minors dni

warnings: alcohol, swearing.

“What’s the word?” A familiar arm drapes across your shoulders, pulling you against a warm side. You huff, doing your best to squirm away from him.

“Let me read, Mista,” You turn the page in your book, refusing to look anywhere but the text. Mista squeezes you, laughing.

“C’mon, Bombolone. I’ve been here forty five minutes and you haven’t even said hi to me once.”

“Hi. Let me read.” You nudge his side with your elbow, and he laughs again. You’re loathe to admit the sound fills you with warmth.

“So what’s the word?” He repeats, swinging his legs over your lap. You huff, pink beginning to dust your cheeks.

“Nothing new, other than the fact that I can’t read anymore, I guess,” You look over at him, snapping your book shut. “C’mon, Mista. I have a paper on this book due next week.”

“And I have a plus one due to a wedding in two days.” He grins easily, linking his hands behind his head. Your gaze flits to the other students in the common area. “You still haven’t given me an answer.”

“Oh, Mista, you know I-” You sigh, meeting his face. “I’m busy.”

“If I go to that wedding alone, my Famiglia will never let me hear the end of it,” He hums. “I’m on my knees, bombolone, you know how us Italians are.”

“Clearly, on your knees.” You rest your elbows on his legs, putting your chin in your hands. “Promise you’ll leave me alone after?”

“Scouts honor.”

He grins, reaching over to gently punch your arm. “Do you have a dress?”

“The nicest thing I own is a polo from a career tech program I joined in high school and a pair of khakis,” You answer, rolling your eyes. He hums, his eyes closing in thought.

“Come on. I’ll buy you a dress, then.” He swings his legs off of you, dragging you to your feet. You balk at the idea, trying to wrench free from his grasp.

“No, I can buy my own-”

“Nonsense! We have to match anyways. It’ll be fine. Think of it as me paying for you to come to the wedding with me,” He smiles, lacing his fingers with yours. You bite your lip, squeezing his hand.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” You finally relent, easing out of his grip to grab your school bag. “Has anyone ever been able to say no to you?”

“Several people, actually. Most of the time.” He plucks the bag out of your arms, looking smug. You shove him gently, your face burning.

“Oh, shut up.” You don’t protest when he drapes an arm around you. “We have to make this quick, though. I have a class at four.”

“That’s plenty of time.”

“Are you going to let me see the dress on you, or are you just going to hide in that changing room all day, Bombolone?” Mista’s voice leaks through the curtain, and you flush, worrying at how the fabric hugs your frame. It doesn’t look bad, but it does accent some of your insecurities.

“Give me a moment,” You reply weakly, adjusting the fabric so that it sits more nicely against you. “Okay.”

Before you can lose your resolve, you pull the curtain back, spinning around in a slow circle. The soft blue fabric sways with your movement, and when you finally meet Mista’s eyes, his mouth is hanging open.

“I knew it! It looks terrible on me, doesn’t it?” You blurt out, hugging your arms. Mista grabs your shoulders, getting right up in your face.

“What?! No! I think you look incredible! I just...Stai così bene che ho dimenticato come parlare,” He mumbles, and you step back, huffing.

“You know I don’t speak Italian, Mista.”

He flushes, and you stare for a moment. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him blush.

“I said you look so good I forgot how to speak,” He turns away from you, biting his lip. “I mean it. You look amazing in that dress.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, definitely,” He sounds breathless. “Let’s get this one. There is nothing terrible about this dress.”

You shuffle your feet when you reach the counter, flushing when you hear the clerk tell Mista how much he’ll be paying.

“Oh, Mista, no, Let’s go back and find a cheaper dress,” You tug on his arm. “Or let me pay for some of it.”

“Absolutely not,” He pulls out his wallet, handing the clerk his card. “I told you I’d pay, right? So let me pay. Don’t worry about the price.”

“Who’s even getting married?” You ask, dropping your arms and clasping your hands in front of you. He grins down at you when the purchase is made and slides his arm through yours, leading you out of the store.

“You’ll meet them at the wedding.”

You slide into the passenger seat of his car, checking your phone. He puts the dress in the trunk, slipping behind the wheel and starting the car a moment later.

“It’s only two thirty, do you want to go get lunch? My treat?”

“After you already blew so much on me?”

“Please?”

“Mista, I couldn’t. Really. You can come join me in my apartment if you’re quiet and let me study.”

“I’ll cook for you then!” He drives off, smiling to himself. You sigh, fixing your gaze out the window.

You’re roused by your phone ringing early in the morning, and you groan, answering it without even checking the caller ID, your voice thick with sleep.

“Hello?”

“Hey, get ready. You can do whatever you want with your hair. I’ll be there in about forty five minutes.”

“Mista?”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, jesus,” You pinch the bridge of your nose, yawning. “You really expect me to be able to do my hair in forty five minutes?”

“No, of course not. I’m going to make you breakfast. We don’t have to leave for another four hours.”

“Jesus Christ,” You yawn again. “Door’s unlocked. Just walk in.”

“Hey,” You jerk awake when your shoulder is shaken, and bolt up, narrowly missing Mista’s face.

“Shit! What time is it?!”

“Relax, you still have plenty of time,” Mista steps back, tilting his head. “Did you fall back asleep?”

“Unintentionally,” You sheepishly avoid his gaze. “Sorry about that.”

“Hey, that’s why I came over so early. C’mon.” He grasps your hands and pulls you out of bed, righting you when you stand so you don’t fall over. “Coffee?”

“Huh? No, I’m just going to take a quick shower.” You wipe at your eyes, and he smiles at you, lopsided. You stare at him blankly. “What?”

“Nothing. You’re cute when you wake up, that’s all.” He tweaks your nose and leaves your bedroom, humming to himself. You stretch and head towards your bathroom.

The shower does a good job at waking you up.

You enter the kitchen, in nothing but a slip and a robe, running a towel over your face.

“Should I wear makeup?”

“If you want,” He answers, setting a plate of pancakes in front of you. “I personally don’t think you need it.”

“You made these?”

“Yeah.”

“They look good.” You take a bite, your eyes fluttering closed. “They taste good too.”

“Hey, thanks.” He grins. “Do you mind if I use your bedroom to change?”

“Go for it.”

He emerges some time later, fixing the cuffs of his shirt, and you stare, dumbfounded. He catches your eye and grins easily, running a hand through his hair.

“My eyes are up here,” He jokes, and you flush, looking away. “Like what you see?”

“You wish,” You shoot at him, placing your thumb nail in between your teeth. He laughs, nudging your arm with his fist.

“Did you think maybe I was bald under my hat? I know, my hair does come as a shock to some people, but don’t let it get your panties in a twist.”

“Go change into your dress if you’re ready,” He pours himself another mug of coffee, leaning against the counter and watching you with glinting eyes. You slide out of your chair, face flushed, and disappear into your room.

Twenty minutes later, you emerge, dress on, makeup and hair done, facing another problem.

“Uh, Mista? What am I going to do about shoes?”

“Go ahead and just wear whatever for now, we’ll stop somewhere on the way. And make sure to take a jacket, it just started raining.”

“Lovely,” You grab the nicest coat you own and shrug it on, pulling your umbrella out of the side closet after tugging on the shoes sitting by the door. Mista checks his phone, humming.

“Ready?”

“Alright. I’m part of the wedding party, but I won’t be away from you for long.” He offers you his arm and takes the umbrella from you, walking you out to his car and helping you into the passenger seat. You scroll aimlessly through your phone, nerves causing your hands to shake the longer the car ride goes.

Halfway through the ride, he turns on the cd player and sings along quietly, tapping the wheel to the beat of the song. You’re surprised to find that he has an amazing singing voice.

He catches your gaze out of the corner of his eye and grins, winking at you.

“You’re catching flies, bombolone.”

You flush, looking back down at your phone. He chuckles, pulling into the parking lot of a shoe store you’ve barely even dreamed of seeing the inside of.

“What size shoe do you wear? I’ll go in and pick something out for you.”

“Oh, uh-” You tell him, and he grabs the umbrella from the backseat. “But-”

“I better not hear you complain about me buying you something else, Tesoro,” He catches your eye, his glinting. “Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to. We’re friends, right?”

“At least let me pay you back?”

“Absolutely not,” He smiles, leaving before you can get another word in edgewise. You slump against the seat, exhaling sharply.

He returns roughly fifteen minutes later, box in hand, a smile on his face.

“They match your dress,” Is all he says, and drives off, humming to himself.

You’re asking yourself why you ever agreed to this when he pulls up to the venue, and your nervousness only grows when he reaches into the backseat and hands you a small box.

“Relax, I’m not asking you to marry me yet,” He jokes, opening the box for you. “It’s just a corsage.”

“Even if you did ask, I’d say no.” You watch as he slips the flower onto your wrist. He jokingly slumps back into his seat and throws an arm over his eyes, groaning.

“Merda! How do you expect me to go on like this? I’ll just stare forlornly at the wall the entire wedding! I won’t even dance!”

His joking manner chips away at some of your anxiety, and you can’t help but smile.

“You’ll move on, I’m sure. Maybe I’ll finally be able to finish my schoolwork when you do.”

“No chance,” He grins and peeks at you from under his arm. “Pull your seat back and change into your shoes so we can go in. I’ll have to leave you pretty soon but just pick a seat wherever and I’ll meet back up with you after so I can take you to the reception.”

“I know what’s bothering me about this,” You say, opening the shoebox and gazing at the blue satin flats inside. “You never have anything this planned out.”

“Ah, you can’t say never,” He jokes. “I had a whole plan to ask you out after I met you in Professor Nero’s class.”

“You dropped that class, Mista.”

“Who knew that biochem would be so difficult?” He sighs wistfully. “I just don’t have the brain for it. Who would have thought we’d see each other again in Sociology?”

“Did you finish your paper yet?” You ask him, tugging the new shoes on.

“Absolutely,” He laughs. “Absolutely not. I haven’t even started it.”

“Mista, that’s due on friday.”

“Ah, I’ll get it done,” He waves you off. “We have other things to worry about right now.”

He steps out and around the car, opening up the umbrella and your door for you. Instead of offering you his arm, he laces your hands together as you walk into the massive church.

“Mista, Siamo tutto qui!” A younger boy, with black hair and bizarrely violet eyes waves Mista down, and Mista calls over to him.

“Ah, arrivo tra un minuto, Narancia!”

“Mista, am I going to be the only english speaker at this whole wedding?”

“Nah, ‘course not,” He squeezes your hand. “Everyone here speaks English, some better than others. I gotta get going, sit anywhere in the chapel but the first three rows.”

“O-okay,” You find you miss his hand when he lets go, and you watch him walk down the hall, tossing his arm around a slender blonde man.

You suppose it’s good to know he’s this familiar with everyone he comes across, You think to yourself as you take your seat and clasp your hands together.

Other guests begin to fill the pews as time goes on, some casting you weird looks, other’s ignoring you completely, some smiling. You bite the inside of your cheek, jumping when the music starts. You watch as the groom makes his way up to the front- a long silver haired man in a black suit and purple lipstick. Trailing behind him is a young woman with bright pink hair, the purple haired boy you saw earlier, and a different, grumpier looking blond. The first blond follows him, and he’s followed by Mista, who winks when he catches your eye. Everyone stands when the- other groom starts to walk down the aisle, donned in an elegant white suit, his raven hair pristine and perfectly in place.

The actual ceremony flies by for you, mostly because you barely understand any of the Italian being spoken. Mista grins over at you when the couple kisses, and when you finally meet back up with him at the back of the church, he pulls you into a hug.

“Let me introduce you to my famiglia, bombolone.”

“O-okay?” There’s not much you can do but follow him, and you’re skidded to a halt in front of the married couple themselves.

“Bucciarati, questa è quella ragazza di cui ti ho parlato, da scuola.”

The man in the white suit turns and smiles at you warmly, taking your hand and brushing his lips against your knuckles.

“Parli italiano?”

“Uh, molto poco,” You’re nervous, but much less in front of this man than you thought you’d be. He nods.

“How are you enjoying your time here?” His accent is thick, but his english is near perfect.

“I love it here,” You tell him, clasping your hands in front of you. “My Italian classes are giving me a hard time, but I am working hard to learn the language.”

“Ciao,” The other man says gruffly, glancing over you before turning away. Bucciarati smiles, waving his hand.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s like that with everyone new. I’m surprised Mista convinced you to come.”

“I have a hard time saying no to him,” You confess quietly. Bucciarati laughs.

“He can have that effect on people, can’t he?”

“Come meet Giorno,” Mista tugs on your arm, pulling you out of your conversation. Bucciarati reprimands him in italian and waves you off.

You step out of the passenger seat of his car, hurrying into the convention center where the reception is being held. Mista waits in the car for the rest of the wedding party, watching you go.

It’s later in the night when Mista approaches you out on the patio. You had retreated from the cacophony of loud music and voices, nursing your fourth glass of sweet red wine and watching as the clouds roll through the dark sky.

“You disappeared on me,” He rests his forearms against the railing, and you glance at him, eying him appreciatively when you see that his jacket has been discarded and the sleeves of his dress shirt have been rolled up. The alcohol is doing well to make your judgement fuzzy, so you reach over and squeeze his arm.

“Loud.”

“It can be, yeah,” He nods, noting the way your cheeks are flushed. “How much have you had?”

“This is my last one. Promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” He smiles, looking up at the sky. The loud, boisterous music turns into something soft and sweet, and you hear Mista take a deep breath.

“Would you come dance with me? Per favor?”

You look down into your half empty wine glass, nodding. He pulls it from your hands, setting it down on the ledge, and moves to guide you back inside. You pause, just at the door.

“Can we dance out here? I don’t want to take any attention away from the newlyweds. And it’s quieter out here, I can hear myself think.”

“Of course,” He smiles and takes your elbows gently in his hands, pulling you against his chest. You stumble and fall, a giggle spouting from your mouth. “God, I finally get you on a date and you’re drunk.”

His tone is teasing, and he rests his hands on your hips to keep you steady.

“Not that drunk,” You giggle again, winding your arms around his shoulders. He tilts his head down towards you, his grin morphing into a smirk.

“After this dance, I’m making you drink some water,” He lifts a hand and tweaks your nose. You flush and, thanks to your clouded judgement, bury your face into his chest. He rests his chin on top of your head, humming softly along to the song that filters through the door.

You’re nearly sober by the time you make it back to his car, and he asks if you want to go home or if you’d like to spend the night at his place or if you’d like him to take you back home.

“Do you live alone?”

“Yeah, I have a one bedroom just off campus.”

“How big is your bed?”

“I was going to sleep on the couch.”

“That didn’t answer my question,” You say, leaning back against the seat.

“It’s a double.”

“Mm, sure then. I’ll stay,” You smile over at him. “I can help you write that Sociology paper tomorrow then.”

“Curses! You’ve revealed my hidden plan!” He slumps jokingly, burying his face in his hands. You laugh, and god, he could listen to the sound of you genuinely laughing forever.

You step into his apartment, slipping the flats off of your feet by the door. He steps around you after slipping his own shoes off, and turns the kitchen light on.

“Want some tea? It’ll probably do you good to prevent a hangover tomorrow.”

“Sure.” You sit gingerly on his couch, looking around. He watches you for a moment, disappearing into his bedroom after putting the kettle on the stove.

When he comes out, He hands you a folded pile of something soft and tells you to go ahead and shower and change, and that your tea will be ready by the time you’re done.

You do as he says, washing your face and changing into the clothes he provided.

You inspect the blue hoodie and clean pair of shorts he gave you, smiling to yourself. You never expected to dance with him, much less spend the night at his place and wear his clothes. The hoodie smells faintly of gunpowder, and you think to ask if he maybe visits the shooting range.

Steam billows out of the bathroom door when you open it, and Mista teasingly asks if you’ve left him any hot water, handing you a warm mug of something that smells delicious before he disappears into the bathroom himself, emerging some time later in sweats and a loose t-shirt. You catch yourself eyeing him appreciatively again, and firmly turn your gaze down to the almost finished mug of tea.

He joins you on the couch, tossing his arm across the back of it and flicking the tv on. For one of the first times, it’s silent between the two of you, and comfortable. Before long, you scoot closer to him and rest your head against his shoulder, and you can’t blame alcohol for that decision. Part of you is terrified, but the other part just feels warm and sleepy and content.

“Woah, don’t fall asleep on me, bombolone,” He wraps an arm around you and peels you away from him, smiling softly. “If you’re tired let’s get you to bed.”

“Mista, I want to cuddle with you,” You say, meeting his eyes. “It’s really scary, but I want to do it.”

“Why is cuddling with me scary?!”

“I may be realizing that I have a tiny amount of feelings for you,” You bite your lip. “And no one’s ever- I’ve never been held like the way you held me while we were dancing. It made me warm and fuzzy inside.”

“That so?” He smiles, resting his cheek against the top of your head. You nod.

“I promise that’s not the alcohol talking either. Please?”

“I can’t say no to you,” He finally sighs, standing and pulling you up. You positively beam at him, and it’s his turn to flush and look away.

He takes your hand and retires to the bedroom with you, allowing you to cuddle up against him when you both lie down. There’s a feather-light kiss pressed to your forehead, and your eyes have slipped closed.

You wake first the next day, and notice you’re on your side facing Mista. His arm is draped over your side, and he’s snoring softly. His face is much more boyish when he sleeps, his face completely relaxed. You stretch, turning onto your back, and think about what you told him last night.

Seeing him like this only solidifies the feelings that have nestled in the center of your chest, and you curse yourself lightly when you realize that he’s won, and that you aren’t even upset that he’s finally won you over after a year of knowing you.

He grunts softly in his sleep and drags you closer, so you turn to face him again and card a hand through the short curls on top of his head. His eyelids flutter, and you’re met with his impossibly dark eyes the next moment.

“Cazzo, you’re really cute when you’re sleepy,” He reaffirms what he said to you yesterday, giving you a lopsided smile. You blush, trying your best to keep a smile off of your own face.

You don’t do a very good job at it.

“You too. You snore though.” You avert your eyes, covering your mouth with one of the hoodie sleeves.

“Shoulda heard yourself last night. Though a weed wacker had gone off in my room.”

“I do not snore!” You gasp, sitting up. He laughs and drags you on top of him, securing his arms tight around you so you have nowhere to go.

“I wouldn’t call it snoring so much as a 747 temporarily taking up residence in the back of your throat.” He hums, keeping that cocky grin on his face. You scoff.

“I do not snore.” You state it again, firmly, and he laughs, squeezing you.

“There are ways of getting me to shut up,” He says lightly, and you narrow your eyes, tilting your head back.

“Why is that my responsibility? Shut yourself up, Mista.”

“D’you mind?”

“By all means, I’ve been asking you to for a year.”

He smiles, then, and grabs the front of his hoodie, dragging you down and pressing his lips firmly against yours. They’re extraordinarily soft, and they do more to shut you up than him. When he pulls away, you stare at him for a moment, before cupping his face in your hands and leaning down to kiss him again, and again, and again, until you have to physically drag yourself away for air.

“Cazzo,” He pants, cupping the back of your neck with his palm. “Just...wow.”

“Yeah,” You nod dumbly, searching his face. “Give me more.”

His eyes glint, and he flips the two of you so that your back is pressed against the sheets.

“Are you sure?”

“God, yes. This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, and I am absolutely certain that I want to do it,” You reach up and drag him down to meet your lips again. His breath catches in his throat, and he worms his way down to your neck, his hands pushing up the hem of the hoodie he gave you.

You arch your back so he can slide it off, and he groans out loud when your chest is laid bare before him.

“Cazzo, You’re not cute, bombolone, you’re actually really fucking hot,” He breathes, cupping your breasts in his hands. You flush at his words.

“Even the playing field,” You tell him, and you don’t have to twice because he’s already shrugging his shirt off. You’re finally met with the full plane of his stomach, instead of what you see when he wears his crop tops, and you trace the muscles appreciatively with a finger, stopping just at the hem of his sweatpants. He leans down, kissing your cheek, and starts to trail open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your carotid, stopping once or twice to suck gently at the soft skin there. He relishes in the way your breath jumps in your throat and grins against your skin, kissing along your collarbone and down your chest and stomach.

“Can I eat you out?” He asks, pausing at the hem of the shorts, and you groan, twisting his hair into your hands.

“God, please!”

He laughs, a little nervously, and slides the shorts down your legs, tossing them off of the bed and spreading your legs and dipping his head between your thighs. His breath ghosts just over your clit, and you have to beg him again for him to finally start moving.

“Sorry, I’ve just...never eaten anybody out before,” He huffs, closing his eyes and swiping his tongue up and along your folds. You gasp. “Sorry if I get a little experimental.”

He slides his tongue up again, flicking it just right against your clit. You grip his hair harder, grinding down onto his face, your eyes squeezed shut.

When he seals his lips around your clit and gives a testing suck, you cry out, clenching your thighs around his head. He groans against you, working to figure out what you like and what you don’t until you cry his name and arch your back, grinding against his face while you ride out your orgasm. He continues through it, forcing your thigh up and out with his free hand so he can have better access. It’s not long until you cum again, and you have to push him away when the stimulation nears pain.

“F-fuck,” You pant, blinking slowly as you try to bring the ceiling into focus. He pulls his fingers- you didn’t even notice he added more- out of you with a wet noise and holds them in front of your mouth for you to taste.

He groans when you run your tongue along his digits, watching your face as you work diligently to clean them. He’s rock hard at this point, and itching to be inside you.

He works off his sweatpants with a huff, his cock springing out and smacking your stomach heavily. It’s not terribly long, but dark and thick, uncut, the tip flushed pink and dribbling precum where it’s peeking out. Your mouth waters at the sight of it, but he rolls his foreskin back and nestles between your thighs, and your thoughts are clouded by what he’ll feel like inside of you.

He takes his time, brushing the head along your folds until it catches at your entrance, and with a shaky breath, he slowly pushes in.

You both moan when he does, your head falling back on the pillows, his hand reaching up to grip the headboard.

“Cazzo,” He hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re so fucking tight, babe.”

He rolls his hips, eliciting a cry from you that sounds like his name, and sets a slow, heavy pace. He lifts one of your legs, resting it against his shoulder, and angles his hips so he can hit all of the best spots inside you.

“Christo, do you know how good you feel? Se non sto attento, verrò subito,” He leans down and catches your lips in a kiss, brushing against your cervix when he does. You moan into his mouth, your walls spasming around him. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He groans, his hips pistoning even faster into you. “F-fuck, where do you want me to cum?”

“I d-don’t care! Anywhere is-” Your words get cut off, and you scramble to find purchase against him when you cum for a third time. He pulls out and starts jerking furiously into his hand, and you flinch when warm cum spurts against your stomach.

“C-cazzo, he groans, flopping down next to you when he’s spent. Both of you can do nothing but breathe and bask in the afterglow, your minds working hard to catch up to the experience. His chest heaves, and he turns his head to face you, a goofy smile on his face. “That was so hot.”

“There’s no way that was your first time eating someone out,” You gasp, loosely clasping hands with him. He laughs. “That was too good.”

“I’m glad you think so,” He squeezes your hand, exhaling sharply. “Fuck. Let me get you a towel.

“If you clean me up good in the shower I’ll suck your dick for you while you write your paper,” You meet his eyes, grinning at him. His face flushes, and the next moment, he’s standing and lifting you off the bed.

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

#jjba #jojo #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #mista x reader #guido mista x reader #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #my writing

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strawberry-lemonade · 4 years ago

Text

Funniest things I’ve said(in my opinion):

to my dad:

-that’s some.. ✨spicy✨ depression u got there

-*in response to “im looking for something straight”* u sure u got the right person for that??

-what the mcfudge-nuggets is a city tiddy and why does that name exist

-if i ask to borrow something, first of all I’m not asking, and second of all it’s not borrowing, cuz ur never getting it back

-*ahem* holy hexagon i thought u were a good driver what was that??

-that wasnt very gucci flipflops of you! u mad bro???

-father i require the cotton things^ from the big magic box*. the blood monster• hath returned. (^pads, *store, •period)

-i did a thing that i did not need to do which means that the other thing that i do need to do has not been thinged however i would like to do another thing so i will do that thing and continue to not do the original thing that needs to be thinged.

to my brothers:

-what the mcfuck is up you mcfucking whore

-add me back bitch

-*in response to “ur younger than me don’t ‘awe’ me”* id advise u to not get your hopes up

-one day im gonna get married to a tree for tax benefits and im gonna forcefully make you my maid of honor 💕

-u gucci????????

-i dont think dad made a very good choice in leaving the two of us home alone...

(my brother and i are the problem children and if i weren’t so good at covering tracks we both would probably be grounded for life.)

-are you stupid? like,, are you actually stupid??? That is the worst idea ever so obviously we are going to do it but know that you are a fucking idiot

-*somehow becomes my little brother’s official curser????*

(like he’ll be singing a song that i know and just before he gets to the part that says the f word he cuts off and looks to me and I’ll say ‘FUCK’ for him)

to my sisters:

-i know you’re straight and dont like girls but im bi and we have almost nothing in common and we need something to talk about so we’re gonna act like stereotypical high school girls and talk about boys all night.

-is this what being a >white< teenager is like??? We get to legally do illegal things because no one actually gives enough fucks to reprimand us for things that endanger both us and those around us????

-i think I’ll have another existential crisis, that sounds nice right now.

-jesus christ i think I’m normal now... that’s disgusting someone come drop me on my head again, i need another 14 years of trauma induced weird habits that freak my family out but impress my online friends

-jesus fucking christ i think I’ve fallen in love with more inanimate objects this is becoming an obsession do i need a doctor

to my friends:

-it gets ✨spicy✨

-Hello I See That You Have Followed Me And I Would Like To Ask If You Are Alright

-im in the middle of a pickup line battle with my friend and hes beating me 😭😭

-still got the pronouns right bitch (used they/them)

-okay i have ten bad ideas you have to fucking elaborate

-besides i wanna fight kids about whether cereal is soup

-DO YOU HAVE FRIENDS -yes- for some reason I don’t believe you

-I Mean My Father Just Pulled A Batman And Adopted Someone Because They Have My Brother’s Old Number

-i have been murdered -oh no- no it’s great life has no meaning anyways

-i defied the laws of physics *i just took a picture*

-do u wanna homo today

-oh good job on sleeping

-good night my yes homo bro

-jake peralta killed me T-T

-hey jay can i have a kiss? .. no homo tho

-hey wally u want in on the homo?

-jay come over here we need to homo

-*starts fake-dating someone that is literally named ketchup after fake-dramatically breaking up with s/o*

-As you can see, my detective skills are far superior to all of you.

-jay stop following me I’m breaking up with u

-As Drake would say, Peace in, you fucks.

-*brother dies* Ah. Peace has come to me once more.

-Did you have to kill him? Was my grandfather not enough for you?

-you murder-whore

-this is why i love you, you don’t discourage my homicidal tendencies

-hello i exist. I am not okay with it

-are you telling me not to stab someone right now because first of all how did you know and second of all why not

-fOUR DAYS_ that’s longer than I’ve been alive!!

-I’m gonna gay

-i just watched the music video for bang bang and no one can convince me that anyone in that video is heterosexual

-im a fucking narwhal

-they exist. I am legally required to pull a batman

-yA KNOW WHY HANDS ARE SO FUCKING SEXY TO ME?? I CANT DRAW THEM. AND I AM IN CRISIS

-why the frick frack knick knack slip slap mc mac and cheese are you so bad at taking care of yourself

-so anyways merry crisis eve eve

-and then i checked and was sorely disappointed that i dont annoy you but aNYWAYS

-*ostrich noises intensify*

-excuse me since when the fuck do i have a life

-*t-poses* AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

-even pieces of trash need to breath tho so stop making me wheeze pls

-my dude i have nOODLE ARMS_ why do u think I’m noodle jr

-ur right! I make the rules and the rules are no rules except for one rule that’s not necessarily a rule but its still in the rule book of nonexistent rules to follow bc they’re rules and rules are rules my dude

#things ive said #this is #important af #to me at least lmao #anyways i might add on to this later #idk

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managedmischiefs · 4 years ago

Text

north//chapter six

a new chapter in honor of me starting school tomorrow :( this is another filler chapter (but it’s important later on!!) and the plot picks up in the next chapter, I promise!

genre: fluff, angst

pairing: season nine spencer reid x female oc

warnings: none

word count: 5.9k

AMELIA

ONE MONTH LATER

Spencer is constantly talking about his job. He loves working for the BAU more than anything. The work he does is taxing but he loves helping people and he will continue to help, even if it means he spends hours upon hours working his ass off. Frankly, he spends more time working than he should but he does it because he loves it.

However, he often tells me that his office is a bit dull in the appearance department. He has told me about the piles of books that cover most of his desk and the two picture frames, containing a picture of him with his mom and then one with his godson. Besides those things, though, there is nothing else to bring him comfort when he is sitting down and finishing his mountain of paperwork. His dull desk echoes the dull colors in the bullpen. Maybe that's on him and his lack of design skills, but that doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t have any design influence from a third party. I want him to have something uplifting and positive when he sits at his desk, and I decided that I would make this happen. I’m sure Spencer doesn’t pay much attention to the sad colors of his desk when he’s working, but that doesn’t mean it won’t weigh on my mind until I know I’ve done something to brighten his desk.

I devise a plan after a date night when Spencer tells me about how boring it is to sit at his desk for hours and do paperwork. So when Spencer tells me the team is on the last day of the case they're working on, I throw on my boots and head to Quantico.

The building is incredibly intimidating at first because the building is humungous and, of course, I've never been here before and I have no clue where I’m supposed to go. But I park my car and grab my backpack, and I'm only wandering around the parking lot for a few minutes before I finally find the entrance. I’ve never felt more out of place in my jeans and white blouse in the sea of pantsuits, but I ignore that and walk up to the receptionist, signing in to get a visitor pass.

"Here to visit someone?" The receptionist smiles at me, and I sneak a look at her nametag that says her name is Jeannie.

"Yeah," I say as I scribble down my name. "Well, kinda," Jeannie hands me the visitor pass and points to the top of her shirt to tell me to clip mine to the neckline of my blouse. "My boyfriend is coming home from a case today so I wanted to leave him something to cheer him up."

"That's really sweet of you. He's a lucky guy," Jeannie smiles at me. "I'll see you on your way out."

I give her another smile before heading over to the elevator, and thankfully I get in alone because I'd be far too intimidated if I was in an elevator with real FBI agents. Okay, yes, I'm dating an FBI agent, but Spencer is really just a teddy bear and he doesn’t even wear suits to work. He doesn’t even leave his gun in his holster when he’s with me and he doesn’t parade it around and internalize the power a gun usually provides someone. It’s not like I’ve never seen or even held a gun before, but it’s refreshing that he doesn’t flaunt his gun.

I step out on the sixth floor and come face to face with the bullpen that I've heard so much about. I dodge a few scurrying people and pull open the glass doors and quickly realize that I have no idea where Spencer's desk is. It didn’t cross my mind until now that the bullpen would have more than just one desk. So I stare out over the banister for a moment before locating the pile of books I've heard about. I hurry down the small set of stairs and pass a few confused agents who can tell I clearly don't belong here. But, once more, I ignore their stares and walk over to Spencer's desk, and to my expectations, it's exactly how he described it- dull.

I reach into my backpack and pull out a picture frame, setting it beside his computer. I debated on leaving a picture of me because I know talking to me brings him comfort after a hard case so maybe seeing a picture of me might help too. But I know he hasn't told his coworkers about us yet and I don't want to put anything on his desk to make him uncomfortable. So instead of leaving just a picture of me, I made him a small piece of art with my signature on the bottom corner. He seemed to really like the small amount of art I’ve shown him so I figured that a piece of my art would be a viable replacement for a photo of me.

The next thing I leave one Spencer’s desk is a small tin filled with the last of the Christmas cookies we made together, tucking it right under his computer. I've realized that he sometimes goes without eating, especially during his long workdays, so having a snack readily available is a good idea. Then I grab a post-it from the top drawer and a sharpie, scribbling a message that reads pinky promise with a heart next to it and sticking it to the bottom of his computer. It's out of immediate sight of any prying eyes, and even though Spencer has probably never used this computer before, it’s right beside his books that I’m sure he uses every day. A post-it note from me isn’t much, but I hope it is enough.

"Who are you?" I hear a voice behind me as I'm flattening a note-so-sticky corner of the post-it onto the computer.

I whip myself around, expecting to see literally anyone other than the person I find. I'm expecting to see a woman in a pantsuit with her arms crossed and her brows furrowed, ready to scold an out-of-place 25 year old for being in a government building unsupervised. But I come face to face with a woman who has blonde hair brighter than mine, a headband with two pink puff balls on them, an outfit filled with bright colors and contrasting patterns, and heels higher than anything my ankles could handle. She's holding an octopus mug, and I can smell the lavender tea from here, and she's not wearing an ID badge like all the pantsuit-wearers are. She doesn’t even look like she’s about to scold me for creeping around a federal agent’s desk, but rather, she looks curious.

"I'm Amelia," I give her the sweetest smile I can conjure up.

The woman squints her eyes suspiciously, and tilts her head to look behind me. "And why are you going through Boy Wonder's desk?" I laugh at the nickname and tuck it into the back of my brain for later use. "You only have a visitor badge on and I've never seen you before and I've never heard your name."

"I wasn't going through his desk," I say, stepping aside and gesture to the tin of cookies, but don’t bring attention to the two other things I have left. "I was just leaving him something for when he gets back from the case to cheer him up, that's all.”

"Hmm, that’s really sweet actually," she hums, inspecting the desk once more. But then she shrugs her shoulders and takes a step closer to me, jutting her hand outwards. "Well, I'm Penelope Garcia, technical analyst for the BAU.”

"Oh," I shake her hand with a growing smile, "I've heard a lot about you."

Penelope's eyes widen, hand clutching mine in the mid-air, no longer shaking. "Spencer? He’s told you about me?"

"He's told me about the whole team, actually!”

"Wait, wait," she abruptly puts down her cup of tea on Spencer’s desk and holds her hands out in front of her, her eyes somehow getting even wider, "I don't need to be a profiler to fit the pieces together. You're here and bringing Reid things for his desk to cheer him up, which, again, is so super sweet. And you're bringing him Christmas cookies and he was watching The Polar Express on Christmas and he never watches movies like that. And he's been wildly happy the last few months and oh my god, you guys are totally dating! You're totally Spencer's girlfriend!" Penelope doesn't even wait for my answer before throwing her arms around my shoulders and pulling me into an embrace. "I'm a hugger and I hope you're a hugger."

"I'm a hugger, don't worry.”

Penelope pulls away from our hug and then gasps, grabbing onto my cheeks with a grip that might be a little too tight. "Your hair! The braids! It's beautiful! I could never do braids like this! I'm so jealous!"

"It takes a lot of practice. I could braid your hair for you, if you want," I offer. "I don't have anywhere to be until Spencer gets back."

"Ooh, I smell a date night!" Penelope bounces up and down on her toes, grabbing onto my hands and starting to tug me out of the bullpen. "That's adorable and I'm taking you up on your offer. Let's go, I'm taking you into my lair. I've got music and snacks and lots of fun things and it'll be awesome."

Penelope leads me back out the glass doors and down the hall, through a gray door and into a room filled with stuffed animals and many computers. It doesn’t look like anything anyone would expect to see in an FBI agent’s office, but I’m gathering that Penelope is a different type of agent than the too-serious pantsuit-wearers

"I've got some hair ties here," Penelope pulls open a random desk drawer and pulls out a bin of different sized hair ties. Then she twists around and opens a bigger drawer, revealing a whole hoard of snacks. I can’t help but laugh as I reach in and pull out a bag of chips. "I'm usually in here for hours upon hours so it's imperative that I have good snacks," Penelope says, spinning around in her chair to put her back to me. "Okay, Miss Amelia, make me beautiful with your magical braiding fingers!"

"You're already beautiful, Miss Garcia," I quip, running my fingers through her hair to get out the few knots she has in her perfectly curled hair.

"You flatter me, Miss-I-Don't-Know-Your-Last-Name. I should do a background check on you," Garcia suddenly says and then starts typing on her computer. "I do it for everyone's boyfriend or girlfriend on the team, don't worry. It’s my own mandatory procedure to protect my bestest friends and make sure nothing hinky is going on with their significant others."

It becomes hard to breathe for a moment as I struggle to swallow the lump that forms in my throat. I nod slowly as a way to calm myself down, chewing on my bottom lip as my chest starts to tighten. "My, um,” I gulp one more time but the lump doesn’t slide down my throat, “my last name is Stark."

"Even your name is perfect, it’s so unfair. Amelia Stark. Sounds like a stage name," Penelope quips, typing my name into some fancy FBI search engine. Some pages pop up when she types in my name, and the first thing on the screen is my website, filled with pictures of my artwork from through the years. "You're an artist! I could tell that from your tattoos, which I love, by the way. I love your artwork. If I could afford any of your work, I would totally get it because everything is so beautiful."

"Oh, thanks," I laugh as a way to distract myself from the following files on her computer, and I try to still my trembling fingers by slowing down my braiding, making sure each braid is tight and not bumpy and beautiful looking.

Penelope exits my website and starts looking at a new file. "You're a-" she is abruptly cut off, thankfully, by a high pitched beeping sound, "oh! That's the team! They wanna video chat from the jet!"

The trembling in my hands only worsens at this. My hands still and my eyes widen. "You're the only one who knows about me and Spencer and I think he wanted to keep it a secret for a little while longer.”

"They can't see your face from where your standing. Just keep standing where you are. And keep braiding!” Penelope instructs me quickly then answers the video chat. I keep my hands braiding as I watch the faces of the members of the BAU pop up. I observe all the team members and their positions on the jet. There’s a blonde woman who, by process of elimination of the blondes I have been told about, I conclude is JJ, the mother of Spencer’s godson. A brunette is beside JJ and I recognize her as Alex Blake. Derek Morgan is behind them, deep in conversation with someone whose face is blocked by the headrest of a seat. "How are my favorite crime fighters? How can I be of service on your trip home?"

"Garcia," a hard-faced man says, and I catch sight of Spencer beside him. I watch as he squints his eyes and leans closer to the screen and I wonder if he recognizes me from just a shot of my chin to my hips. Well, he must recognize me because my tattoos are perfectly displayed and he obviously knows what they look like. "We're an hour away from Quantico but when we get back can you make sure to have Anderson put that box of case files in my office?"

"Of course, Sir," Garcia answers and types something on her computer. "Is that all?" She's giggling through her words, letting her head get pulled and tugged when I include new hair in the braid.

Hotch squints at the camera the same way Spencer did, leaning closer to the screen. "Garcia, who is that with you? She's got a visitor pass."

"Just my friend, Hotch!" Garcia answers far too quickly for it to be a truth, and it actually makes me choke out a laugh. "She's just braiding my hair because she has magical fingers!"

Hotch doesn't look too convinced but sits back in his seat and looks at whatever is in his hand. "I need you to run a background check on someone for me."

"My technologically magical fingers are ready. I’m not the only one with magical fingers," Garcia, thankfully, exits out of my background check and begins a new one. I have to hold back a sigh of relief as the lingering fear in my body seems to dissipate, but my fingers don’t stop shaking and my heartbeat doesn’t slow down. Hotch gives Penelope a name and she starts typing, then starts rambling off all these gross things this guy has done. I scrunch up my nose and try to ignore what she's saying. "Are you still coming home or did you get another case?"

"We're still coming home," Blake answers.

"This is for a consult which is why it's important that Anderson get those case files into my office," Hotch gives her a pointed look and a nod of his head before returning his attention to the file in his hands.

"Of course. I just emailed him." Garcia says.

"Hey," JJ speaks up and becomes the third team member to move closer to the screen, "none of us know your name or who you are but I really like your shirt!"

It takes me a moment to recognize that she is talking to me and not Penelope. "Oh, thanks!”

"Does anyone need anything else?" Garcia asks the team. "No? Awesome, I will see all your lovely faces when you get back. Are we going out for drinks?"

"I'm game for drinks," Morgan shouts.

"Me too," Blake grins, turning around to high five Morgan.

"I actually can't," Spencer speaks up, and, I swear, Penelope almost bursts from excitement. "I have plans. Sorry guys, maybe next week."

"Pretty boy's got plans?" Morgan teases, leaning over the chair to ruffle Spencer's hair. Spencer grimaces and fixes his hair, swatting Morgan’s hand away when he tries to mess it up again. His pouty face makes me smile and I lift my chin out of the frame to shield my smitten smile from the team of expert profilers.

"Yeah, I do," Spencer responds, trying to return his attention to the book in his hand, but Penelope knows that Spencer and I are supposed to have a ‘date night’ tonight so she takes this golden opportunity to tease.

"And what are these majestic plans, Doctor?" Penelope grins and she hands me a hair tie when I gesture that I need one.

Spencer glances up at the camera and then back at his book, concealing a smirk. "Don't worry about it."

The team oohs and ahhs, knowing Spencer is hiding something, and it warms my heart to see him interacting with his best friends. Even though they're teasing him, he's grinning and he’s blushing and he looks so gorgeous. I haven’t really gotten the pleasure of seeing him react with someone other than me so seeing it now makes me fall even harder for him.

"I have no clue what's going on here," Hotch says, silencing everyone, "but make sure you get that stuff done."

"Will do, Sir," Penelope salutes to her boss.

"And track Reid's credit card so we know where he goes tonight," Hotch smirks, and the last thing I hear before the video ends is Spencer groaning.

"We love Spencer," Penelope sighs dramatically, wiggling in her chair as I finish up with her braids. "We tease him but we love him so much."

"I can tell you guys do," I tie off the end of the braid and pin it in place, admiring my work. "There, done."

Penelope materializes a hand mirror and gasps when she sees her hair, turning her head to see every angle she can. "This is amazing! How'd you get so good at this?"

I wring my hands together as I pull away already reaching for the backpack that I had placed on another desk, and the strap slides out of my shaky fingers at first. "Um, a lot of practice. I used to braids my sister’s hair all the time when I lived at home. And honestly, Penelope, I should run before the team gets back."

"You definitely should," she jumps out of her chair and pulls me into another hug. "Thank you so much for doing my hair. And thank you for making Spencer so happy. It sounds cheesy but he really has been a million times happier, it's like he carries the sunshine with him and I guess that sunshine is you." I choke on an answer to her compliment but she doesn’t give me any time to come up with an appropriate response to her. "Can I at least have your number before you go? You know, just in case. And in case I'm having a super rare bad hair day and I need to stop at your house before work."

I hastily pull my phone out of my pocket and hand it over to her. "Yeah, of course," Penelope puts her number into my contacts and sends herself a text before handing it back to me. "It was really lovely to meet you, even if it was by accident."

"And it was wonderful to meet you. If anyone's dating our resident genius then I'm glad it's you. I have to say, I didn’t picture Spencer with someone who has tattoos and piercings but I really, really like you. I’m glad you’re dating him," Penelope leads me out of her office and over to the elevator, pressing the down button for me.

"I think that was a compliment so I'm just gonna say thank you,” the elevator rises too slow for my liking, and I find myself starting to shuffle back and forth on my feet and tug on my shaking fingers. “Hey, could you just make sure Spencer stops by his desk before he leaves? I would really appreciate that.”

“Can do,” she salutes to me the same way she did to Hotch as I step through the elevator doors before they are all the way open. “I can’t wait to see you soon. Have fun on your date night!”

///

SPENCER

///

Everyone is chatting on the elevator ride up but I’m silent, my hand shoved in my pocket, waiting for my phone to buzz with a text from Amelia. I expected some sort of text from her, especially after she saw me on the video call with Penelope. But I didn’t get any texts or calls from her so I just assume she is busy and I can ask her about her secret trip to the BAU when I see her later.

"So you're really not coming tonight?" Alex asks as we leave the elevator.

"No, I'm not. I really do have plans," I repeat, getting unconvinced looks from the whole team. Morgan holds the door for everyone as we step in and head to our desks, either loading or unloading our bags. I take a step towards my desk but before I can get more than a foot closer to it, Garcia comes barreling through the opened doors just before Morgan closes them.

“Hello, lovely friends!” She exclaims, somehow speaking louder than her normal excited voice. “I’m so glad you’re back, all safe and sound.”

Morgan chuckles, throwing his arm around her shoulders. “You-”

“Reid,” Penelope completely cuts off Morgan, and everyone’s eyes dart between me and her, “You should totally go to your desk before you leave. Okay, see you guys later.” With those rushed and frantic words, she turns on her heels and bolts back out of the glass doors.

“Well then,” JJ laughs, becoming the first to break away from the group and head to her desk, “that was weird, even by Penelope’s standards.”

Completely and utterly confused, I turn and walk towards my desk. My feet still on the carpet before I even get to my desk, though, because I first notice that my chair is out of place. It's pulled out a little bit- I always make sure to push it all the way in before I leave- and when I go to push it back under the desk, I find Garcia's lipstick-stained mug. When my eyes get drawn away from the mug, I find a new picture frame beside my computer with a piece of artwork that I quickly recognize to be Amelia’s. A huge grin comes to my face. So this is what Amelia was doing here.

With the stupidest of smiles on my face, I inspect the rest of my desk, hoping to find another surprise from my goddess of a girlfriend. And, to my elation, I find a familiar tin under my computer, and when I pull off the top to see what is inside, I discover the rest of our Christmas cookies. And when I turn the top of the tin over, I find a post-it note in Amelia's handwriting.

for when you forget to eat during cases -A.S

Her calligraphic handwriting is so beautiful. My heart is pounding and I swear I could cry as I put the top back on, wanting to preserve the freshness of the cookies for as long as I can, and set the tin back where Amelia had intended it to be. I grab Garcia's mug and I'm about to turn to return it to her when I catch sight of the other post-it stuck to my computer.

"What's that?" JJ is suddenly at my side, making me jump. "Pinky promise? What does that mean?"

My stupid smile has never been bigger. There’s no suppressing my joy now. "Not important. Have a good night. See you tomorrow."

I head past her and out the glass door, walking quickly to Garcia's door and knocking, barely waiting for an answer before entering. She's spinning around in her chair when I enter, squealing when she sees me. "Come give me a hug, you!" She jumps up and throws her arms around my shoulders, completely ignoring her mug, and my aversion to touch, but I don’t care at this moment. "I absolutely love her. She's sweet and she clearly cares about you if she came here to bring you cookies and leave you cute messages to make you happy after cases. Plus she braided my hair! Look!" Garcia pulls away and points to her head, showing me a braided hairstyle that I have seen Amelia wear many times. Most notably, our sixth coffee date. "I’m kind of already in love with her so it’s understandable that you are too!"

Penelope’s choice of such strong words jolts me back to reality, but I don’t have it in me to correct her. Correcting her use of the word love feels wrong. "Well, I'm glad you like her," I hand Garcia's mug back to her and she hurries to add it back to her collection of stuffed animals and knick-knacks. "And if you could just-"

"Keep it a secret? You got it! I'll zip my lips and I'll throw away the key. Your super juicy and cute and adorable and loving secret is safe in the lair with me," Garcia grins. "Now get out, for real. I heard from your blonde beauty that it’s date night tonight. Don’t be late! Get going!"

"Yeah, I'm going. Thank you, Garcia, it means a lot that you'd do this for us.”

"Anything to see you happy," she smiles as I hurry out of her lair, almost sprinting, not even bothering to use the elevator and opting for the stairs instead.

///

I knock on Amelia's door, not even bothering to stop at home before going to her apartment. Something clatters inside her apartment and then some sort of muffled shouting and within another second, the door creeps open. I quickly scoop Amelia into my arms and spin her around in a hug, in maybe the most enthusiastic embrace we’ve shared. She latches onto me immediately, pulling her legs up to wrap around my waist, her head tucked into my neck. I feel her blow a puff out of her nose in a sad excuse for a laugh.

"You're absolutely remarkable," I compliment, twirling her around once more before attempting to set her back down on the floor. But Amelia doesn’t move at all. She just fists the back of my cardigan and holds me closer. I don’t mind this new embrace, though, so I tighten my grip around her waist too. "I saw you on the video chat and I thought it was you from that white shirt you were wearing, and then I heard your voice and I knew right away. And, of course, because of your tattoos."

"Just wanted to do something nice for you," her voice has never sounded so weak. She sounds wildly exhausted, even more than she does in the mornings, and the way her nails start to dig into my skin through my cardigan and shirt heightens my senses. “You deserve something nice.”

My eyebrows furrow at Amelia’s quiet voice. I hate this. I hate the darkness that she is radiating. It’s wrong of me to always expect her to be grinning and extroverted and bouncing off the walls like she always seems to be. Everyone has off days, but I have yet to experience an Amelia-off-day. I hate it. I place my hands on her waist and try to pull her away from my body so I can see her face. “What's wrong? You sound upset.”

"Nothing's wrong," she answers far too quickly for it to be the truth. Amelia’s movements are in slow motion as she untangles herself from my hold, placing her feet flat on the ground. When she’s no longer wrapped in my arms, she immediately turns her back to me and tries to walk off. I follow after her as quickly as I can, catching her hand in mine so she can’t go any further. “I’m fine, Spence.”

"Amelia, do I need to remind you of my job? You can tell me if something's wrong," I tug her closer to me, dropping her hand and grasping her waist instead. I feel her breathing speed up under my fingertips.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm just tired, babe,” Amelia gives me a weak smile, one that doesn’t even reach her eyes. I’ve never seen her irises look so gray before.

"Do you want me to go home? I can let you get to sleep early-”

"No, no, please don't leave. I wanna hear about your case and your day and whatever else you wanna talk about,” she grabs onto my hand and pulls me to the couch. The couch is covered by the duvet from her bed as well as a mountain of pillows, and I have to laugh when she sits down and nearly disappears into the fluffy pillows. I pull back the blanket and sit beside her. Before I’m even fully sitting down, Amelia scoots closer and lays almost entirely on top of me, burying her face in my neck again. Her actions are incredibly concerning because while she has always been touchy and cuddly, this is on a whole new level of clingy. Not that I have anything wrong with cuddling and clinginess, but this Amelia is so different from the girl who usually opens the door.

"Okay well, the case wasn't good, by any means," I make quick work of toeing off my shoes, trying not to move too much and disturb Amelia, "but it was very, what's the word, satisfying to catch the unsub because he was just horrible."

"Aren't they all?" Amelia scoffs. "Do you ever not catch them?"

"If the case goes cold and the killer stops, then yeah, sometimes. That's when I feel the worst because then I feel like I can't get justice for the families and friends of those who were killed. I can't show them who killed their loved ones and they have to live in constant uncertainty. They'll just live their lives not knowing."

"That would feel so horrible.”

I’ve made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t profile Amelia and she has made it clear, in a lighthearted way, that she doesn’t want me to profile her. But in moments like these when something is clearly wrong and I want to help my girlfriend, I wish that I could use my skills to untangle the situation. Her body language and the inflection of every syllable that falls from her mouth and her microexpressions give away so much but I force myself to turn the other cheek and not pay any mind to them.

"I don’t really wanna talk about sad things today," it’s true, I don’t want to talk about one of the worst parts of my job but averting the conversation is to avoid adding more sadness into the atmosphere. Amelia clearly doesn’t need any more sadness. “Why don’t you tell me about your surprise trip to the BAU?”

"Got lost a little bit. The building is bigger than I thought it would be," Amelia gives me the first genuine smile of the night. "But it's really nice and I can see why you love it so much. And Penelope is wonderful."

"A part of me knew that you two would get along. You have similar energies, as both of you would say. I don’t understand the whole energy thing but whatever.” It’s my attempt at lighthearted conversation and it’s my attempt to make Amelia smile and then go on a rant about what it means to have a specific energy. But there’s no lightening of the conversation. She buries her head even further into my neck.

"Penelope is great, yeah. And, uh," her voice trails off, as it always does when she's about to say something that makes her nervous, "she told me she does a background check on everyone's boyfriend or girlfriend."

"Oh, yeah, that,” I laugh, rolling my eyes with a level of nonchalance that doesn’t fit the current energy of the room, “She says that to everyone but I don't think she actually does. I've never seen any proof. I never saw any proof for Savannah. She’s Morgan’s girlfriend," there’s a silence that follows my explanation and it doesn’t ease the tension that seems to suffocate me as the minutes fly by. I feel Amelia’s head bob up and down in a nod but no words come after. It takes me far too long to connect the dots. "Is that why you’re so-” I stop myself before I label her attitude in a way that might upset her further. I restart my thought. “Is the background check making you nervous? It’s kind of a joke. It’s nothing serious.”

"No," again, she answers way too fast for it to be the truth. "Well, I guess. I just- it's like when you're driving and there's a police car driving behind you, you know?" She overcompensates for her lies by talking way too much. "You know you're doing nothing wrong but you still get nervous. I mean, I feel like anyone would get nervous if they were told someone was doing a background check on them."

"Yeah, sure,” I nod my head despite having no clue what she means and suddenly not believing a word that falls out of her mouth.

The air, once again, falls dead. The suffocating feeling grows and I feel the need to flee. I need to get up and move around and escape how uncomfortable I am. It’s a horrible instinct, the worst I could have, but it builds in my chest and squeezes my lungs flat. Why am I feeling this way? Why do I so desperately need to leave Amelia when she is so clingy yet off-putting? Even if she isn’t opening up to me, she clearly needs me and I shouldn’t abandon her. She has never abandoned me on bad days. She makes every effort to comfort me and help to lift me out of my funk? I need to do the same thing for her. So why is it so hard?

“Hey,” I finally muster up enough confidence to speak even though my voice refuses to raise over a whisper, “do you want me to make something for dinner? I know you’re the better cook out of the two of us but-” I stop talking when I look down at Amelia. She’s fast asleep, her cheek smushed against my shoulder and her lips parted. It’s the most peaceful she has looked all night.

My head falls onto the back of the couch, eyelids fluttering closed. I wait for the thick air to travel out the windows now that Amelia is asleep, but it never does. It wraps me in its embrace in the same way that Amelia does. The tension pounds against my body when my intrusive thoughts start to swirl around in my head. It’s the most unpleasant of feelings but no matter how hard I try, they won’t go away. The walls start to cave in and I know that trying to hold them back is useless. So instead, I just succumb to the pressure and disappear into the pillows.

TAGLIST

@babybobbybones @blameitonthenight21 @thematthewgraygube @anepiphany @goldenalvez @reidscardigan @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @stxrryspencer @rxseinbloom @penelopecultinsp (your regular tag isn’t working, did u change your handle?) @whollytaciturn @thegingerfairchild @matthewreid @shrimpyblog @garcias-batcave @anamelessfacelessnerd @gublergirls @wonderlandhatter @matthewgublerswife

#nikos north fic #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #gublernation

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agent-breakdance · 4 years ago

Text

(Icarus Ch. 3) - Flashbacks and Flashcards

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F! MC (Olivia Anika Cohen)

Word count: 2.3k words

A/N: This chapter will be slightly less angsty than usual. Hope you guys enjoy the little bit of respite but don’t worry, we’ll be getting right back to it in the next chapter which happens to be the last of the series. There is a sequel in the works, however.

Warning: Language, mentions of drug abuse, gratuitous use of flashbacks.

Disclaimer: PB owns characters. There’s lots of Grey’s Anatomy references with some dialogue borrowed from Open Heart.

Tag list: @deliciouslydeafeningstarlight @drethanramslay @ohramsey @theeccentricbibliophile @justanotherrookie @kaavyaethanramsey @batgirlassociationofgothamcity @tyrilstarfury @lilypills @juneiswriting @fleur-de-jasmin-fdj @mvalentine @sanchita012 @choicesstan1 @junggoku @aylamreads @whatsamottowithyou @utterlyinevitable @openheart12

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Song: Uncover by Zara Larsson.

Olivia was seated in another one of Professor Hardman’s lectures as he went completely off-topic. This time, however, she had found ways to keep herself occupied. Her eyes scanned the room only to find dozens of students dozing off, including Tobias. Her eyes finally landed on Ethan.

He felt her eyes on him and turned to look at her. She saw as his lips quirked up in a small smile. She had no doubt that he was remembering the events that had occurred starting off with their ‘talk’.

Olivia was very curious upon receiving a mysterious text from Ethan asking her to meet him “you know where”. She stared at the text as she arrived outside the abandoned lecture hall. There was no sign of him anywhere. Suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her inside the room and shutting the door. She let out a relieved sigh upon facing him.

“You figured it out, huh Rookie?”

“Well, it was pretty obvious considering this is the only place we’ve ever been alone. Why’d you ask me here anyway?”

“I thought we might need to talk about what happened.” Ethan said.

Olivia laughed. “Uh huh. What do you want to talk about? I thought everything was pretty obvious.”

“How about you make it completely clear so I don’t make a fool of myself?”

“Now, that I’d like to see.” Olivia chuckled and earned a glare from Ethan which promptly dissolved into a smile at her next words.

“We’re dating, Ethan.”

He crossed the distance between them and captured her lips in a kiss. Her breathing grew ragged as the kiss deepened but they both pulled back with a smile before getting too carried away.

“I don’t mean any disrespect but would you mind if we keep this to ourselves for now? I don’t want all of our friends teasing us about it.” Ethan asked.

“I was going to suggest it if you weren’t.” Olivia said with a smile.

“I guess we’re a lot more alike than we thought.”

The rest of the week was filled with secret rendezvous at ‘their spot’ and a lot of secret texting. Ethan hated texting but he made an exception for their situation and for her.

There had been a lot of close calls where they had almost been discovered by Tobias or the rest of their friends or the janitor (oops?) but the thrill of secrecy only amplified the excitement of their relationship.

Tobias suddenly woke up. He saw Olivia trying to discreetly look in his direction and smiled. At that moment, he was completely oblivious to Ethan sitting to his left. Her gaze fell on his and she quickly averted her eyes. Her mind started racing as she prayed that Tobias hadn’t seen her little interaction with Ethan. She let out a quiet sigh of relief as she heard the professor dismiss the class.

“Saved by the bell. Well, metaphorically.” She thought.

***

As the evening rolled around, they decided to end the week by getting drunk at their neighborhood bar.

“What can I get ya?” The waitress asked as she approached the table.

“Liv, we doing this?” Bryce asked. Olivia gave him a grin and looked around the table. Aurora groaned and flopped her head onto the table. Jackie had a smug grin on her face, Elijah wore an excited smile and Sienna muttered to herself.

“Not again...”

Her gaze landed on the terrified expressions of Ethan and Tobias and she gave Bryce a nod.

Before Ethan could place an order with the waitress, Bryce got up and walked to the bar and Olivia thanked the waitress but refused her service.

She was met with confused stares from Ethan and Tobias.

“What’s going on, Liv?” They asked simultaneously.

Their question was soon answered as Bryce arrived at the table with a tray lined with glasses filled with the familiar blue liquid.

“What on God's green earth is that monstrosity?” Ethan asked.

“This is a drink of my own invention. I call it ‘Early Onset Alzheimer’s’. In honor of a couple of new additions to our group.” Bryce grinned.

“Please tell me I don’t actually have to drink this.” Ethan whispered to Olivia.

“Oh you’ll be fine. You can order your ‘scotch, neat’ later.”

“How did you know that was my poison?”

“The time I met Tobias at the bar, I noticed your drink. You should know by now not to underestimate me.” Olivia winked at him.

“Indeed, Rookie.” He smiled as he tossed back the drink.

Everyone except Bryce groaned as they set down their glasses.

“That was vile, Lahela. Remind me never to accept a drink from you ever again.” Ethan said.

They all laughed as Tobias flagged down the waitress to take their actual orders.

An hour passed as they all got progressively more drunk. By the end of their fourth round of drinks, they had gone through a whole bottle of tequila and were now using it to play Truth or Dare upon Olivia’s suggestion.

She spun the bottle and it landed on Bryce.

“Truth or Dare, Bryce?”

“Dare.”

Upon seeing the mischievous smirk on Olivia’s face, he groaned. “I do not like this at all.”

Her eyes darted around the bar and lit up when she saw Professor Hardman at the bar counter.

“You have to go ask Prof. Hardman about his trip to Australia.” Olivia said which earned hoots from around the table.

“What did I ever do to you, Liv? That man could talk for hours about Australia.”

They all laughed as they saw Bryce engage in conversation with the professor.

“Well, he won’t be back for at least an hour or so. Let’s play!” Sienna said.

They played a few more rounds which consisted of Jackie guzzling hot sauce, Elijah calling up his crush to explain the rules of monopoly and Aurora successfully intimidating the first person Jackie had picked out for her into giving her his number.

Bryce returned to the table after a grueling hour and a half.

The bottle landed on Ethan. “Truth or Dare?”

“I suppose if I’m being forced to play this ridiculous game where my fate depends on an empty bottle and the mercy of your creativity, I will pick truth.”

“Do you have a crush on anyone at the university?” Bryce asked with a smirk.

Ethan and Olivia shared an imperceptible smile. She quickly looked away only to meet Sienna’s eyes.

Olivia walked back to her dorm, her mind still swirling from the flashbacks to Ethan telling her about his own past and the kiss. She stepped into her room only to find papers and textbooks strewn about on the floor, waking her from her rumination.

“Hey Liv!” She heard Sienna’s voice as her head poked out from under a pile of books. Olivia sat down next to Sienna.

“What’s that?” Sienna pointed to a white piece of cloth poking out from her coat pocket.

The bold monogram ‘EJR’ stood out perfectly in the white background.

“Aren’t those Ethan’s initials? I’ve seen them on his lab coat.”

Olivia remained silent as her mind raced to come up with a logical explanation. “Yeah, it’s Ethan’s handkerchief. I had an accident in the lab and he gave it to me to wipe up the blood on my hands.”

“Uh huh. There’s no blood on the handkerchief, Liv.”

Olivia tried to come up with an excuse but she finally relented and narrated the encounter, save for the details of both their traumas.

Sienna exclaims and rushes over to hug her. “So, Mr. Stick Up His Ass, huh?” Sienna waggles her eyebrows jokingly.

Olivia laughs and playfully pushes her. “Turns out he’s not so bad.”

Ethan’s eyes flit to Olivia for a second.

“I suppose it was too much to expect a decent question from you. But to answer your question, no I do not.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.” Bryce said.

He handed the bottle over to Jackie and watched as she spun it. It landed on Tobias.

“Truth or Dare, Tobias?”

“I think all the tequila is giving me some liquid courage. I’ll go with dare.” Tobias said.

“I dare you to kiss the most attractive person in the bar.” Jackie said as the table cheered him on.

Tobias stood up as all eyes remained trained on him. He walked over to Olivia and kissed her, eliciting hoots and hollers from the table.

Ethan’s eyes widened and flashed with jealousy but he quickly composed himself.

“He cheated! I’m obviously the most attractive person here.” Bryce said in mock anger.

Olivia laughed as they broke apart. Her eyes flit over to Ethan and she gave him an amused smile, taking note of his jealousy.

Bryce walked over and pulled Tobias in for a kiss.

“There! Now it’s fixed.” Bryce said with a smile.

The table erupted in laughter at Tobias’ shocked expression.

“Ok guys, we’ve all officially had too much to drink. We should go.” Olivia said, chuckling.

They made it back to their respective dorms after last call. Olivia and Sienna stepped into their dorm and closed the door behind them.

Sienna stepped into the bathroom to freshen up when her phone lit up with a call.

Olivia made her way to the phone upon Sienna’s instruction and read the caller ID.

“So are you and Ethan a thing now?” Sienna asked.

“We haven’t talked about it yet. It was just a kiss.”

“For now.” Sienna smirked.

Their conversation was cut short by the ring of Sienna’s phone. She glanced at the screen and hesitated before putting her phone away.

“Everything alright?”

Sienna sadly shook her head.

“That was my ex- boyfriend. He’s a drug addict. We were supposed to go to med school together but his addiction got so bad that he wasn’t able to take any tests and got expelled. I tried so hard to help him but he refused to go to rehab or even NA meetings.” Her eyes glistened with tears.

“I couldn’t take it anymore so I had to break up with him. But now, he keeps calling me to tell me that he’s finally in rehab and he wants to get back together but I can’t do it again, Liv. I just can’t.”

She breaks down crying as Olivia envelops her in a hug.

“It’s alright, Si. You don’t have to. You’re allowed to focus on yourself now. He has other people to lean on.”

“You’re right.” She grabs her phone and blocks the number.

“I have Grey’s Anatomy cued up. Do you want to watch?” Sienna asks with a small smile on her face.

“You bet.”

“Si, it says it’s the sponsor.” Olivia called out.

Sienna answered the phone, a curious expression on her face. She returned a minute later.

“It was his sponsor telling me he just had a relapse. I told her that we had broken up and gave her his sister’s number. It was the best I could do.”

“You did great, Si. I was going to watch Grey’s Anatomy. Do you want to join me?” Olivia asked with a smile on her face.

Sienna’s face lit up with a laugh and she nodded resolutely.

***

The next morning, they had all gathered on the cool, grassy lawn to study for their first big test.

They quizzed each other from question banks and flashcards that Jackie and Aurora had procured from second year students using a little intimidation.

“This would be easier with some tequila”, Jackie said.

“I think we had enough of that yesterday night.” Olivia said, giving Bryce a pointed look.

“Alright, symptoms of appendicitis?” Aurora questioned.

“Sudden pain in the right side of the lower abdomen, nausea, vomiting, loss of appetite,constipation or diarrhoea and abdominal bloating.” Ethan listed them in rapid succession.

“Also, a low grade fever that may worsen as the illness progresses.” Olivia said.

Ethan shook his head with a small smile as she smirked at him.

As Elijah read out another question, Tobias leaned over to Olivia.

“Are you my appendix? Because I have a funny feeling in my stomach that makes me feel like I should take you out.”

Olivia doubled over with laughter. She heard the tail end of Sienna’s answer to Elijah’s question about tachycardia.

“That was funny but I think I can do better.”

“Blood is red, cyanosis is blue, I get tachycardia when I think of you.” Olivia said.

“Oh that was pretty good, Liv but get this- What do you and a febrile patient have in common? You’re both hot.” Bryce said.

The morning passed as they laughed together, trying out pick-up lines on each other. Tobias offered to pick up lunch for everyone and dragged Ethan along with him to the taco truck across the street from the quad.

They laughed, talked and occasionally studied till evening rolled around. They hadn’t gotten much done for the test so Sienna suggested that they pair up to quiz each other.

She decided that the pairs were going to be Bryce and Aurora, Jackie and Tobias, herself and Elijah and… Olivia and Ethan.

As they moved to join their counterparts, Sienna threw Olivia a wink over her shoulder which she repaid with a grateful smile.

A semblance of privacy gave Ethan and Olivia the chance to talk.

“So, Sienna knows about us?” Ethan questioned.

Olivia winced. “I’m sorry. I had your handkerchief and she figured it out.”

“For once, I really don’t seem to mind.” Ethan said with a small smile. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for those ridiculous pick-up lines they were using on you.”

“Seems like that really bothered you…” Olivia said with the ghost of a smile on her face.

“Uh…only because they were ridiculous.” He said with a flustered expression.

“Oh, I’m sure.” She laughed.

“Can we get back to studying, please?” He said as he cleared his throat.

A while later, Tobias approached Olivia and Ethan.

“Can I join you guys? Jackie asked me very kindly to fuck off because I was talking too much.”

Olivia and Ethan burst out laughing before nodding and making some space for him.

As they were getting back to their studying, Tobias’ expression turned serious.

“Liv, can we talk?”

Chapter 4: Dear John

#ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #dr ethan ramsey x mc #choices stories you play #playchoices #open heart #OpenHeart #open heart fanfiction #choices #play choices

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myheartrevealedocs · 4 years ago

Text

Untouchable Ch 25: Minimal Loss (S4E3)

[TW!!] Warnings: (This is the same content as found in the episode, so if you’ve seen it, don’t worry too much, but I find this one to deal with multiple sensitive topics at once, and I don’t gloss over it all, like I often do, so be careful) mentions of rape and pedophilia, depictions of torture, cults, murder-suicide

Ch 24 | Ch 26

A/N: Okay, so I’m four days late on posting this, but this is quite possibly the longest chapter I’ve posted, so hopefully that makes up for it?

~ ~ ~

Lydia’s family stayed for about a week, attached to Lydia at the hip the whole time. She loved her sister dearly and was glad to have some time with her father, but she could barely breathe by the time she was taking them to the airport. As she explained to Spencer, she was merely frustrated they didn’t give her any heads up.

Luckily, they left before her teaching schedule came back into full swing at the university. It was nice to get back into her routine and see some of her students and coworkers who were worried about her. She didn’t realize how close she’d gotten to the people there until the letters, phone calls, emails, and gifts started flooding in, telling her to take it easy and get back soon.

And then, in October, Hotch finally gave her a call for a case.

It was small, but she wanted to get out of her apartment so bad.

Hotch was sending Lydia and Prentiss to Colorado where there was a claim against a separation church leader raping young girls.

Spencer wasn’t exactly thrilled to hear Lydia was leaving, but the whole thing was fairly straight-forward: interview the kids, determine what they could about the cult itself, then see if there was reason to shut them down. Hotch knew that there wasn’t going to be any extraneous activity, so it was a perfect start to reintroducing Lydia to the field. Not to mention, she was very perceptive and a master manipulator.

“Tell us about the 911 call,” she said as she flipped through a file on the people of the church.

Emily was in the front seat with Nancy Lunde, from Child Protective Services. She was the head of the case and had the most prior knowledge on the group itself. “I believe the ‘he’ that they referred to is the church’s leader, Benjamin Cyrus.”

“Benjamin Cyrus,” Lydia mumbled, flipping to his page. “No criminal record. No record at all, really. I doubt it’s a real name. Correct me if I’m wrong, Emily, but Cyrus is a biblical name. A monarch. I’m seeing some subtle messages in there.”

“It translates to ‘sun’ in persian,” Emily agreed. “What else do you know about him?”

Lunde shook her head. “It’s rumored that he’s practicing polygamy and forced marriages,” she said, but it sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Any idea who the caller is?”

“Uh, Jessica Evanson is the one who the age fits, but… we can’t be sure. So I negotiated interviews with all the children. It wasn’t easy.”

“Well, considering their view on outsiders, it would be best if you didn’t identify us as FBI,” Emily explained and Lydia got to work on their covers. She took their guns, holsters, and badges, hiding them in the door of the car and handed Emily two fake IDs. “Just use our real names and introduce us as child victim interview experts.”

The Bureau had made them brand new drivers licences and CPS badges with Colorado addresses to complete their cover stories.

All too soon, they were approaching the front gate. The sign read ‘Liberty Church Ranch’ with a large cross beside it.

It was hot outside and Lydia could feel the dust coating her nose and throat as she exited the car, approaching a set of stairs leading up to the church.

“I’m looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus?” Lunde called to a figure on the steps.

“You found him.”

Cyrus wore a light flannel and jeans, with reading glasses perched on his nose and a book in his lap. Lydia had to hold herself back from calling him out on framing the scene. Oh, look how kind and relaxed we are. Our leader sits outside and reads books all day blahblahblahbl-

Open mind, Lydia.

“I’m Nancy Lunde. We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”

He got up and approached the three of them. “‘Savages they call us. ‘Cause our manners differ from theirs.’”

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus,” the red-headed woman huffed.

“Actually, that’s Benjamin Franklin,” he sneered.

Nancy ignored this, and began introducing them. “Emily Prentiss, Lydia Ambers. They’re child victim interview experts.”

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be the need to invent a job called child victim interview expert?” Cyrus wondered.

“We wish we didn’t have to be here,” Emily said.

“So do we. But you are welcome, nonetheless. The children are in the school as I indicated.”

“Thank you.”

Lydia nodded and followed Emily off to the school building.

~ ~ ~

Jessica Evanson was not the kid they were looking for. Lydia could tell the moment she walked into the interview room. She was completely calm, the perfect child. Her hair was neatly brushed back, her polo shirt well ironed, and her hands folded neatly in front of her.

Her mother, Kathy, stood beside her, petting her hair gently, as if to reassure her, but Jessica clearly didn’t need it. She wasn’t intimidated by their presence at all.

“We go to school. We do our chores. And we treat ourselves and each other with the respect God demands.”

Emily sat across from her, conducting the interview, and Lydia stood beside her.

“But you’ve never been off of the ranch?” Emily asked.

“I brought Jessie here when she was two,” Kathy explained.

Jessica clearly was not having any of this. “You’ve talked to lots of children in your work. Tell me, are their lives somehow better than ours?”

“We devote ourselves to God,” Kathy continued. “That doesn’t mean we’re not devoted to our children.”

“We are not here because of your religious beliefs,” Emily reasoned.

“Why are you here?” Jessica demanded.

She was starting to become hostile. She grew up in a cult that taught her to hate outsiders, so Lydia couldn’t blame her for her behavior. But her mother was clearly a peacemaker, so where did she learn it from? It wasn’t defiance from her family, because that would put her against the group, not for it.

“We received a phone call alleging that an adult male member of your church was having inappropriate relations with the younger women here.”

“You’re talking about Cyrus,” she responded, almost immediately.

“What makes you say that?” Emily asked.

Her mother immediately became defensive, trying to get her daughter to be quiet, but Jessica was still determined to make a point.

“Is it inappropriate for a husband to share a bed with his wife?”

Lydia’s eyes shot open. His what?

“You are married to Cyrus?” Emily spoke slowly, as if worried that the question would escalate the situation, but Jessica stayed proper in stance, if not in tongue.

“Yes. Cyrus is my husband and a prophet. It’s an honor to bear his children.”

It took everything in Lydia not to look disgusted by the thought and keep the interview going. “Jessica, you aren’t old enough to get married without parental consent.”

Emily nodded at the mother. “She gave consent.”

Before anyone could continue, a loud sound from outside got their attention. There was some yelling and suddenly Cyrus and a few other men were rushing in, machine guns in hand.

Lydia let her shock show on her face. Not just that they had the weapons, but that they would carry them around a school where CPS workers were present.

“Get up!” Cyrus demanded, turning on her and Emily. “Get up! Move!”

On the other side of the room, Nancy was entertaining the other kids. “What’s going on?” she asked softly.

“We just got a very strange phone call from a news reporter,” Cyrus began and a man walked around Emily and started to pat her down for weapons.

They were both unarmed, but Lydia was starting to regret that. These men were clearly threatened by their presence. What the hell had happened?

Another man walked around to check her and unceremoniously smacked her in the side, causing her to wince involuntarily. Cyrus clearly noticed this, but said nothing, continuing on with his point.

“Is there anything you want to tell me? About a raid, maybe?”

She and Emily exchanged a concerned look. A raid? They weren’t prepared for that. They had checked in with the state before joining child services to the ranch, there shouldn’t have been a raid on this church.

Luckily for them, Cyrus took their concern for fear and nodded. “They don’t know,” he determined. “Bring them along.”

A man grabbed Lydia’s arm and dragged her across the room, where another armed man was opening a hatch in the wall. A tunnel. A few guards went first, then they started ushering the people in. Women with their kids, Nancy, Emily, and Lydia all surrounded by machine guns, leaping into a dark hole underneath the church.

The passage underneath the buildings was too thin to walk side by side, so the guards let them go on by themselves.

“What’s going on?” Nancy whispered to the two FBI members ahead of her.

“We’re not sure yet,” Emily hissed. “Just stay calm.”

As they reached a large opening directly underneath the chapel, they could hear gunfire from above ground.

Prentiss pulled Lydia aside, trying to get as far away from the crowd as possible. “If this escalates, Cyrus is going to put this place on lockdown. The FBI is going to be in charge of negotiations as long as we’re inside. Do you know the Critical Incident Response Group handbook?”

Lydia shook her head quickly. God, it would be helpful if Spencer were here. He probably knew that book front and back. Lydia didn’t know what she was doing.

“Okay.” Emily fumbled, trying to determine what was important for Lydia to know before they had to revert back to their covers. “CIRG will bug all the windows and anything else they can get to. So, anything you need them to know, find a way to say it out loud. Keep the inside members talking. We won’t be able to know what the team already knows so tell them everything. If there are blinds on a window, they might be blocking the sound, so try and get them out of the way before speaking.”

“Best hope it doesn’t come to that,” Lydia argued, but the sound of the gunfire overhead was diminishing her hopes of getting out any time soon. She just hoped Spencer didn’t know what was going on.

At the sound of Cyrus’s voice, the two girls stepped away from one another, trying to blend in with the crowd.

“Alright! Move quietly! Quickly, go to the left! Everybody stay together!” he ordered, pushing his way through the room. “Children, listen to your parents. Have faith.”

“Where did these guns come from?” Emily whispered hurriedly and Lydia glanced around her to see what she was looking at.

Wooden crates lined the walls, each labelled as bullets or magazines. Leaning into the corners were more machine guns. Buckets of them.

“I thought Garcia checked with the state police to see if they were involved in…” Lydia trailed off, not sure how to frame the inquiry, but luckily Emily was on the same page.

“Someone lied to us. You don’t just lose track of these weapons, not when you’re already watching this group.”

“At least the raid is unrelated to the FBI,” Lydia reasoned. “Our cover is still intact. But you’re right… someone from the Colorado government just ruined their career. Once we’re back in Quantico, Hotch is going to lose his shit.”

Lunde approached the two of them once more. “This is ridiculous,” she sneered.

“It’s okay,” Emily tried again. “Just calm down.”

Cyrus continued to reassure his followers, telling them that God would look out for them as long as they stayed calm.

Once he had disappeared, Nancy was arguing with them once more. “It’s the state police. I’m an officer of the state.”

“Well, there’s nothing we can do right now.”

“I can talk to him.”

“No!” Emily rushed after her but Nancy was already halfway through the crowd of people. “You can’t. It’s dangerous. Nancy, stop!”

The woman rushed out of the room and before the two of them could follow, one of the guards blocked their way. The other went after Nancy, but she was booking it back up to the ground level of the chapel.

Shit. This was starting to look… bad.

She stood next to Emily at the front of the group, anxiously waiting for the battle to cease, but the hail of bullets above them never slowed. After a minute or two, Cyrus came stumbling back down the stairs.

“Do not fear! We are on the side of the righteous.”

Behind him was the guard that went after Nancy, but no Nancy herself.

“Where’s Lunde?” Emily asked him.

“It wasn’t us.”

“What?!” Lydia screeched, then quickly lowered her voice, seeing the attention she had attracted. “You can’t shoot it out with the cops! You have children here!”

“I didn’t start this,” Cyrus argued back.

Emily was clearly distraught watching him reload his gun, then take off with the rest of the men to the roof.

“The BAU is coming,” she whispered.

~ ~ ~

“Reid!”

JJ’s voice reached Spencer from the center of the bullpen and he looked up from his email curiously. “Hm?”

Her eyes were on the TV she was in the process of starting up and he noticed that Morgan was also looking up at it intently. It lit up in the middle of a news report.

“...a routine questions and answers meeting by Colorado child services-”

Colorado… that’s where Lydia and Prentiss were…

“-has turned into a violent and deadly standoff between Colorado authorities and a fringe religious group known as the Separtarian Sect.”

Spencer jumped up, joining Morgan and JJ in the middle of the room, his mind still not coming to terms with what was happening.

“JJ,” Morgan breathed, standing up, his eyes not leaving the TV, “That’s not the ranch where Prentiss and Ambers-”

“They’re still inside,” she said, softly.

Spencer’s legs almost gave out underneath him.

“HOTCH!” Morgan screamed.

The unit chief was rushing out a moment later to see what was going on, but Spencer didn’t pay him any attention. His eyes were glued to the screen in front of him. Where’s Lydia? Where’s Lydia? Where’s Lydia???

“...While no one knows for sure how many people are inside, it is believed that at least three of the child service members are still trapped within the compound.”

~ ~ ~

Spencer sat on the couch of the jet, his head in his hands, listening intently to the ongoing news report on Morgan’s laptop.

“...turned deadly when the Colorado state police officers tried to serve a warrant. Colorado Attorney General Jim Wells says the reclusive cult has been the subject of a 6-month weapons investigation.”

“Six months,” Morgan repeated. “We didn’t check?”

“No. We checked,” JJ argued. “I had ATF call Wells. He told ATF there were no pending state investigations. He lied.”

“Why?” Rossi demanded.

“Wells is challenging the governor in the next election. He thought that ATF was about to poach his big election-launching weapons bust,” JJ explained. “Now, it’s clear he didn’t know there were FBI agents there. He just thought the best time to serve a state warrant was when the kids were safe inside the school being interviewed.”

“Agent,” Spencer corrected quietly, his head finally lifting from his own grasp.

“What was that?” JJ asked.

“There aren’t ‘FBI agents’ in there. There’s only one.”

It seemed to slip everyone’s mind that Lydia wasn’t an agent. They looked around nervously, noticing the edge in Spencer’s voice as he corrected them. Hotch was the first one to speak up.

“Ambers may not be an agent, but she’s not a civilian, Reid. She can look out for herself.”

“The FBI only worries about their own,” Spencer hissed.

“She is one of our own,” Morgan fired back. “We’re going to get her out of there, just like Prentiss.”

“Just like all of the hostages,” Hotch continued.

Not wanting to argue more, Spencer nodded at him, then jumped up from his seat and walked to the back of the plane, unable to listen to any more. The media wouldn’t be able to tell him what he wanted to know, anyway.

“Hey, Spence,” JJ called as she approached him at the refreshment table. “I know you’re worried about Lydia, but we need your help on this case. You gotta stay focused, okay?”

“JJ, she’s in the middle of a deadly standoff and she’s still recovering from getting shot last May. Injured tissue takes months to repair itself and it’s going to take even longer for her to regain abdominal strength.”

“I’m sure that she’s safe inside the church with the other hostages.”

“Even if that’s true, I-” He shook his head. “I always seem to be away from her when she needs me most. When that bomb went off in Annandale, when Sonia had a stroke, when Frank got her… Why does it always feel like I can’t reach her?”

JJ sighed, contemplating his question. “I don’t know, Spence. I wish I did.”

~ ~ ~

Once the police had fallen back, Cyrus brought the two of them into a seperate room. Clearly he wasn’t sure how to deal with outsiders being barricaded in with his people. As him and his men tried to assess the damage done to the church and get people back inside, Emily was prepping Lydia for the worst.

“Don’t antagonize them,” she tried to reason. “I know you’re not a fan, but we need to know everything we can. They won’t tell you anything if they don’t think they can trust you.”

“There are two ways to find things out, Em.”

“What are you talking about?” Her voice was sprinkled with annoyance. Emily knew that Lydia tended to be very blunt. She didn’t need to worry about Cyrus killing Lydia when she was supposed to be helping the team get these people out.

“You keep Cyrus’s favor. But someone here doesn’t believe him, or else we wouldn’t have gotten that phone call. They’re going to seek us out.”

It wasn’t a terrible plan, she realized. One of them learn from the higher ups, the other speak to the underdogs. “You want to play two different sides?”

Lydia nodded. “For the time being.”

“Okay. That means we have to distance ourselves, though. Act unfamiliar with one another.”

“Brief me faster, then.”

She was on top of it from that point on. “The hostage negotiator’s job is to slowly get the women and children out. They want as few innocent people inside when they raid. But if they think anyone inside is in danger, they’ll come in, no matter what. We can speak to them through the mics on the windows, but they have no way of talking to us. So if we need to know anything, they’ll tell us through other means. Look out for signs from them. They’ll be listening to our every word…”

~ ~ ~

Hotch had put Rossi in charge of being the lead negotiator, in the hopes that he was both objective enough to not be blinded by his care for Prentiss and Ambers, but also knew them well enough to predict how they’d react while still inside.

Frankly, Spencer wasn’t sure he could do either. He hoped that Lydia would play it safe, but a part of him knew that she was just too impulsive.

The entire team gathered around as Rossi made his first call to the church, waiting to find out what happened to their friends.

“You killed my mommy and daddy. Are you going to kill me too?”

A kid. A little girl had answered the phone. It wasn’t surprising that Cyrus had set something like this up, but it was frustrating nonetheless.

“No one is going to kill you, honey,” Rossi said calmly.

Then, there was a shift. A new voice. “This is Benjamin Cyrus. Who am I talking to?”

“David Rossi. I’m an FBI agent. We sent the state police away. There’s just us and the local sheriff. All we wanna do is resolve this before anyone else gets hurt.”

“Then leave us alone.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Benjamin. One of the police bled out on the way to the hospital. So let’s just stop this before things get worse. Please, just put down your guns and come out.”

“We’re believers, Dave. We believe God says what he means and means what he says. His laws don’t depend on what state you live in.”

“I have no issue with your beliefs.”

“You don’t, but the state does.”

This was taking too long. Spencer needed to make sure they were okay. He needed to make sure Lydia was okay.

“I can’t answer for other people.”

“Oh, God will answer for everyone in the final battle I’ve foreseen.”

“That’s why I’m here. To make sure that this is not that battle.”

“We shall see.”

“Now, the three child service workers...”

“One of them is dead.”

Everyone’s heads shot up. Dead. Dead…

“It wasn’t us.”

Rossi leaned away from the phone, trying to take in a deep breath before continuing. “I need a name to inform the family.”

“Her name was Nancy Lunde.”

The relief between them was almost a solid entity, letting their eyelids hang heavy as they realized neither of their friends had died. But someone had.

“Okay. Now, please, Benjamin, send out your wounded. I promise you they’ll be well taken care of.”

“With enough supplies we can tend to our own.”

“Okay. I need a few hours to put it together. I’ll bring them up myself at first light.”

With news that supplies was coming, Cyrus hung up the phone and the rest of the team was left to ponder what to do now.

~ ~ ~

Lydia and Emily didn’t know much about their situation until the next morning. Everyone was assembled in the chapel to pray. Cyrus had sent the two of them to the end of a row of chairs, trapped in by the wall. Not that there was any point in running anyway. There were men at all exits, guns at the ready.

A soft knocking came from the church entrance and to Lydia’s surprise, Cyrus opened the door. It was difficult to see at first, with all the armed men surrounding him, but after a moment of discussion, Lydia was able to make out Rossi walking through the front door, a box of bandages in his arms.

Despite everything Emily had told her, Lydia could feel a twist in her heart. The BAU was right outside. Spencer was here.

Dear lord, he was never going to let her leave their apartment again.

Lydia reminded herself to steady her facial expressions. Cyrus had no suspicions of their connection to the FBI yet and she wasn’t about to give him any. She silently prayed that whatever Rossi was bringing in was bugged, so that she wouldn’t have to make sure all the important dialogue happened by a window.

They took his supplies, patted him down, and then Cyrus walked him down the center isle. Lydia couldn’t make out much of their conversation, but it seemed like Rossi was trying to convince Cyrus to let some people go.

Their discussion took all of about 30 seconds, then Cyrus was ushering him back out the door. With Rossi gone, Cyrus started giving instructions to his right hand man, Cole, then indicated for Lydia and Emily to get up.

The two of them exchanged a look before standing and walking to the back of the chapel.

“We’re going to have communion,” Cyrus informed them. “Feel free to stand and watch for the time being.”

They nodded politely, noticing Cole at the front with a jug of wine and stacks of plastic cups. A few of the men went around, passing them out while Cyrus poured each person a sip of wine.

“We are celebrating,” he announced. “Everyone drinks. Everyone rejoices. Because today we are one day closer to being with Him.”

“Look at Jessica’s body language,” Emily whispered. “The way she looks at him.”

Lydia nodded. “She literally worships him. There’s no way she made that 911 call.”

“Trust in God with all your heart. Lean not on your own understandings. Trust in mine.”

As Cyrus kept talking, Kathy stood up and walked over to the row her daughter was sitting in, leaning over her and speaking quietly. Jessica tried multiple times to nod and turn her attention back to Cyrus, but her mother kept talking.

“Look at how she comes between Cyrus and her daughter,” Emily continued. “She’s inserted herself between them.”

“Acknowledge Him in all things and He will guide your way. Drink to acknowledge him and I will guide our way.”

Everyone lifted their cups together and followed Cyrus in raising it to their mouths. Men, women, and children alike drank the entirety of their share and watched him intently.

“We will be with him soon. We have drank the poison together.”

Lydia was almost too distracted by the audience's reactions to comprehend what this meant. Some seemed completely calm, maybe even relieved. While others gasped or looked around wildly. It was easy to see a line between the diehard believers and the… less-so believers.

“Mothers… Fathers… Children… Though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we fear no evil. For thou art with us. And God will wipe the tears from their eyes, and there will be no more death nor sorrow nor crying. And there will be no more pain. For all of the former things have passed away.”

Some families grouped together, mothers holding tight to their kids. A few of the loners cried silently while the rest nodded to Cyrus in admiration. It was a wild array of people he’d collected.

“What do we do?” Emily hissed.

Lydia blinked, beginning to realize that the team was probably thinking the same thing. They wanted to save these people. If the bugs were working, they could hear Cyrus announce their imminent death.

“I don’t think he’s telling the truth,” Lydia admitted, looking Emily in the eyes.

She looked frantic. Her instinct to help was kicking in, but there was no way for her to act on it. “What makes you so sure?”

“Look at Cole.” She nodded up to the stage. “He’s writing in a notebook. I think Cyrus told him to make note of the people who had a bad reaction to the news.”

Emily’s gaze followed that of Lydia’s. At that point, both Cole and Cyrus were scanning the crowd. “They’re writing down the names of the people who are crying,” Emily realized.

“It’s a loyalty list,” Lydia finished out. “He wants to know who will follow him to the end.”

“Be still.” Cyrus’s voice broke through their conversation just in time to confirm their theories. “There was no poison. Instead a test of faith. Because your adversary, the Devil, walketh about as a roaring lion! Choosing whom he may devour. Watch each other for signs of weakness. You are your brother’s keeper.”

“What’s he going to do with those that the Devil has devoured?” Lydia asked slowly, but Emily shook her head, not ready to consider it yet.

~ ~ ~

“You exhausted yet?” Emily asked jokingly as the two of them lay up against the stone walls of the basement. Cyrus had brought the two of them back down there a few hours ago and left them on their own.

“You’ll excuse me if I didn't get much sleep last night,” Lydia shot back. “A cement bomb shelter isn’t exactly my idea of comfort.”

“No kidding.” She was on the opposite wall, one leg propped up on the wooden bench she had taken. “You should try to get some sleep now. We don’t know how long we’ll be here. I’d rather have you well rested when the raid starts.”

“I would try, but-”

They swiftly stopped their discussion as the sound of footsteps echoed through the halls. Cyrus was at the door and he looked pissed.

“Ambers. Stand up.”

Her and Emily shared a curious look, but she did as he said and got up from her bench.

“Lift up your shirt,” he ordered.

“What the hell?” she demanded, but Cyrus had already stepped between her and Emily, reaching for the hem of her shirt and pulling it up above her waist. “Hey! what are you-?”

“That’s what I thought,” he grumbled. “Child interviewers don’t often get shot, do they?”

Lydia glanced down nervously at the bullet wound on her side. She had seen the weird look he gave her when his men had searched her and hit it painfully, but she never would have thought it would lead to blowing her cover.

“I don’t know why you…”

Dropping the front of her shirt, he reached up and grabbed a chunk of her hair, pulling her head back painfully. “We just got word that there was an undercover FBI agent in our midst. Care to explain that?”

Lydia hissed through gritted teeth. “What do you want?”

“You’re not CPS, are you?”

His grip was getting stronger by the minute. She didn’t like the idea of blowing her cover, but he already knew it was one of them. Might as well let him think it was only her.

“No. You were right,” she admitted. “I work for the FBI.”

Now, Lydia didn’t expect him to thank her for her honesty and let her go, but it still came as a shock when he walked off, while still holding her hair. Her feet were immediately yanked out from underneath her, not prepared enough to steady herself, but Cyrus just kept going, not deterred in the slightest by her weight.

Lydia groaned, her hands wrapped around his wrist in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure, but it did very little. Luckily he didn’t take her very far, throwing her down on the ground inside a nearby supply closet.

“I told you not to put me in this position!”

She moved to look up at him, but he was faster, swinging an arm up to her chin and knocking her down onto her back. Upon her next attempt to stand, she received a swift kick in the stomach.

“Ugh.” Her left side lit on fire in an instant and she stayed on the ground, her arms and legs wrapping protectively around her abdomen.

“Get up!” Cyrus sneered.

He reached for one of her arms and pulled her to her feet. Lydia flinched away from him as he threw an arm above his head and brought it down against the side of her face. There was a mirror on the wall behind her which shattered as her right arm moved to steady herself.

“Proverbs 20:30 tells us blows and wounds cleanse away evil.” As he said this, he held her still against the broken mirror so that she could see herself.

It wasn’t until she physically saw the blood dripping from her nose that she could taste its warmth on the edges of her mouth. The temple that he hit was tinged pink, but from the way it ached, Lydia knew it would be a dark purple by evening. And her right arm, which was still lodged in the remaining pieces of the mirror was staining the white sleeve of her shirt.

She shrieked as he threw her backwards again, running into the shelf of canned goods against the opposite wall.

The BAU is listening, she remembered. And Emily said that if they thought someone was in danger, they’d begin the raid.

They needed to prepare. They hadn’t gotten any of the children out yet. If the team could hear her and decided to come in prematurely, a lot of people would die. Lydia wasn’t about to let that happen.

There was a window towards the back of the closet she was in. She could only hope that Spencer was listening.

“Careful.” Her voice was shaky and unconvincing, but she made sure Cyrus saw the anger in her eyes. This message wasn’t for him. “Hit me too hard and everyone will see the bruises on your knuckles.”

“No one is going to care,” he replied calmly. “You came here to shut us down! I’m protecting them!”

“From me?” Her laugh came out almost maniacal with her bruised stomach and battered jaw. “I’m fine! I got bruises on my knuckles too! I can take it!”

“Pride comes before the fall.”

His next blow sent her into the metal shelf again, this time her skull ricocheting against one of the sides and knocking her to the floor. She was just able to see a few drops of blood land on the ground below her, though she couldn’t identify where exactly on her face they came from, before her arms shakily gave out and her cheek hit the cold cement.

She prayed silently to whoever may be listening that Spencer understood. She really hoped she didn’t face all that torment in vain.

~ ~ ~

“We’ve got audio!” Morgan called from across their tent set up.

Spencer ran as fast as he could to the panel controlling the microphone feedback, throwing on a set of headphones.

Hotch hadn’t let him do anything for the past day, claiming he was the most emotionally involved in the situation. And although he couldn’t argue with that fact, it killed him to sit and listen. Lydia was right there. She was in the building just over that hill. And he wasn’t allowed to see her, talk to her, call her, save her.

When the fact that an FBI agent was in the church hit the news, Spencer felt an anchor drop to the bottom of his stomach. She wasn’t even an agent. There was nothing to suggest Cyrus would target her. But his instincts screamed that Emily wouldn’t be the one in danger.

And unfortunately, he was right. When he set those headphones over his ears, he immediately recognized Lydia’s voice. She was moaning in pain.

“We gotta go in,” Hotch said, but Rossi stopped him from throwing off his headphones.

“We’d be risking the lives of everyone in there.”

“Get up!” Cyrus’s words were followed by a crashing noise, like glass shattering.

Please be okay. Please don’t let it be as bad as it sounds.

“Proverbs 20:30 tells us blows and wounds cleanse away evil.”

There was more struggling over the line and Spencer threw off his headphones, unable to bear it any more. She was in pain. He knew this would happen.

“How could you let this happen?” he demanded of Hotch. “We have to go in! She’s not-”

“Sh! Sh!” Rossi hissed, one hand over his earpiece, the other between the unit chief and the boy.

Both looked at him confused, but he just kept listening silently.

“Everyone will see the bruises on your knuckles,” he finally recited. “Does that mean anything to you?”

Spencer didn’t answer, but put his headphones back on swiftly.

“-protecting them!”

“From me?” Lydia’s laugh sounded more like a wail over the mic. “I’m fine! I got bruises on my knuckles too! I can take it!”

“She’s antagonizing him!” Morgan exclaimed, frustratedly.

“She’s not talking to him,” Rossi argued.

“Pride comes before the fall.”

There was one more grunt, then the line went quiet. When Spencer finally breathed in again, all eyes were on him.

“She gets bruises on her knuckles when she lets off steam on a case,” he explained quietly. “I always worry for her, but she says she’d rather hurt her hands for a little bit then do something rash or detrimental on a case.”

“So what she’s saying is-”

“Don’t come in,” he finished begrudgingly. “She’s telling us not to go in.”

~ ~ ~

Cole had to basically carry her to one of the upstairs bedrooms. Every breath was agony for her lungs and a violent sting for her nose and mouth. And she figured it was psychosomatic, but her bullet wound hurt as if she’d just been shot yet again.

Who would have thought this whole hostage thing could get ten times worse?

Cole tied her arms to the sides of the bed, though frankly, she didn’t think she’d have the abdominal strength to sit back up anyway. And she didn’t want to try.

Kathy Evanson came by with a washcloth to clean the blood away from her nose, mouth, and temple. She tried to warn Lydia against lying to Cyrus, to which Lydia snapped back, “Do you speak from personal experience?”

Kathy didn’t say another word before standing up and leaving. It was a clear sign that she was hiding something and Lydia could only hope Emily caught onto that too. ‘Cause Lydia… she wasn’t going anywhere fast.

Downstairs, Cyrus had pulled Emily into his office, using some of his only medical supplies to disinfect the tiny abrasions in his hand from his fight with Lydia.

“Did you know she was FBI?” he demanded, as Cole shut the door behind the three of them.

Emily quickly shook her head, but her heart was in her stomach with fear for Lydia. Lydia was strong. She could take a lot. But she was also far too defiant to make this easy on herself. Emily silently wished she’d been smart.

“Nancy told me the woman was a child abuse interview expert from Denver.” Emily hated to put the blame on someone else, but Cyrus couldn’t hurt Nancy anymore. Nancy was gone. Lydia was still here and if Emily made her sound worse, it could fuel Cyrus’s anger towards her. “In the 4 years I worked with her, Nancy had never lied to me before.”

“As far as you know,” Cyrus replied. “Their law says that a 15-year-old girl is a child. Fifty years ago, that same law said a 14-year-old was an adult. Have children changed so much in 50 years?”

No, but people have, Emily thought. It was frustrating. Hotch had chosen Lydia because she was so good at acting calm. At least… in the workplace. She could have any unsub they met trust her entirely, or keep them constantly on their toes. Now, Emily could act, but she couldn’t do that.

If anyone’s cover should have been blown, it should have been hers. Emily knew more about CIRG protocols. She could diffuse a situation. Acting like she wasn’t totally disgusted by Cyrus’s morals was not in her skill set.

“I think it’s a matter of trust. People have stopped believing that kids can make good decisions, they’ve stopped believing in selfless acts, and they stopped putting their trust and faith into God.”

Her appeal seemed to work. Cyrus looked intrigued. She hoped it would hold long enough to make a good argument in her favor. Now was the perfect time to build up Cyrus’s trust with the FBI, because he had brought in the medical supplies Rossi had given them. There was absolutely no way that the BAU wasn’t listening.

“On your next call, you should test them. Test the negotiator. Make him prove that he isn’t a liar.”

“How would you suggest I do that?”

“Ask for the identity of the FBI agent.”

Cole looked unamused. “No. We already know her identity.”

Emily opened her mouth to respond, but Cyrus beat her to it. “They don’t know that.”

“Yeah. But the FBI would never tell us.”

“They keep asking you to release people,” Emily argued. “Tell them you’ll release a kid and you won’t harm the agent. If they really care about the children, they’ll have to tell you.”

“You’re trying to get us to release a child!” Cole accused.

“It’s one kid! If they don’t hold up on their end of the deal, then you know they can’t be trusted!”

“She has a point,” Cyrus conceded much to Emily’s relief. “What is it, Christopher?”

Emily glanced over her shoulder to find Cole pacing the room.

“Some people have been talking about… leaving.”

“Leaving?”

“Yeah.”

Cyrus glanced at his hands. “Wake the baby. Let’s let them meet the orphan that they’ve made.”

~ ~ ~

Cole held onto Lydia’s shoulder’s firmly as he led her back to the chapel. She’d been dozing for most of the day, unable to move from her bed, so her ability to process the situation was hazy.

Cyrus had everyone gathered in the pews. “It has come to my attention that some of our brothers and sisters have lost their faith in God. That they no longer love us. They want to abandon us. So, when I call out your name, please stand.”

Cole left her leaning up against one of the back walls as he went to usher the last of the people in and that’s when Lydia noticed Emily eyeing her, slowly creeping closer and closer while still looking as if she was listening to Cyrus.

“He looks pissed,” Lydia whispered to her when she was close enough. “He’s choosing the people who failed the loyalty test.”

“I’m so sorry,” was all Emily could say.

“Em, I’m okay,” she snapped, more forcefully than she meant. She knew she wasn’t okay. “You need to stay focused and tell me what to do. What does this mean?”

Emily cleared her throat quietly. “He’s releasing these people, because he knows it’s over. He’s getting rid of any possible threat to his mass suicide plan. I’ll try and figure out when it is and get word to the team. Be ready. There’s going to be a raid tonight.”

~ ~ ~

“Drugging the food’s not an option because of the children,” Hotch was saying as they passed around tubs of fried chicken. “We have to go in.”

“Best time to hit ‘em is when they’re least mentally prepared,” Rossi added.

“3 AM.” All eyes turned on Reid. “Biorhythms are at their low point then.”

“Reid, I told you to stay with JJ,” Hotch argued, already on his way to lead Spencer out of the room, but he stood firm.

“Please let me help. I can’t just sit here and pray that she’s going to walk back out of there. I need to do something.”

There was a moment of silent tension between the two of them. Hotch didn’t want him to go. Technically, he shouldn’t let him go. But he didn’t have the time to argue, and Spencer would no doubt be helpful when it came to setting up this plan.

“The plan depends on Ambers and Prentiss separating the diehards from the followers,” Hotch continued, turning back to the group.

“And delaying Cyrus’s diehards from reacting to our assault,” Morgan said.

“No, that’s not my main concern. Ambers and Prentiss know what they need to do. I don’t know how to tell them when we’re coming. This whole thing hinges on them being ready for us at 3 AM.”

“Reid? What the hell are you doing?”

Hotch and Rossi followed Morgan’s gaze to the young genius who was covering the top of one of the food trays with red sharpie.

When he stepped back, the tray read, ‘New owners! New hours! Open ‘til 3 AM!’ The time was underlined multiple times.

“They’ll recognize my writing,” he promised. “Just write this on a few different plates so that there’s a better chance they’re near someone with a sign.”

“Let’s just hope it’s that easy,” Morgan grumbled.

~ ~ ~

Lydia watched curiously as Emily slipped into her room and carefully shut the door. She wasn’t sure how Emily had gotten away from Cyrus’s men, but she was positive something big was happening, else she wouldn’t have taken such a risk.

“3 AM,” she said, reaching the bed and helping Lydia sit up. “We need to get all the women and children down to the basement before 3.”

Lydia had no clue what time it was, only that the sky was completely dark and their time frame was getting shorter. “Find Kathy,” she told Emily. “I’m pretty sure she made that 911 call.”

“Pretty sure?”

“She’s hiding something,” Lydia admitted. “But no, I’m not positive that that’s it.”

The unease was more than a little scary, but there wasn’t much else for them to do. These people wouldn’t trust her or Emily. The only way to save them was to find someone they trusted.

“Stay here. I’ll be back for you before 3.”

“Don’t get caught.”

~ ~ ~

“They’re setting the place to blow up,” Kathy said as she ran into Lydia’s room.

Lydia’s heart fell. “Where’s Emily?” she demanded.

“I told Jessie that Cyrus wanted the two of them to gather the women and children. She’s leading them to the basement now,” she explained, untying the ropes on Lydia’s wrists.

Oh, thank god. Lydia thought for sure when Emily didn’t come back that she’d been caught.

“It’s 2:45. We’ve got to hurry.”

Kathy pulled Lydia along by her arm, Lydia’s other hand wrapped around her waist. Her entire torso burned as she ran down the stairs towards the basement. Almost out. This was almost over.

The sound of gunfire was muted through the walls and Lydia didn’t have time to place where it was coming from.

Get out. Get out.

As they were reaching the door, Lydia could see Emily leading the group into the basement.

“Let’s go! This way!”

“Let’s go, kids!”

“This building’s going to blow up!”

There was shouting in all directions. Lydia’s legs barely held her steady as she ran alongside Kathy. The only thing that was keeping her from passing out was Spencer. He was just outside. She needed to see him.

“Lydia!” She looked up as she passed through the door frame and found herself face to face with Morgan. She didn’t have time to open her mouth before he had pulled her into his shoulder. “I’m going to kill Cyrus.”

“You don’t have long,” she said, almost jokingly, but the timing was badly placed. Not a moment later, the ground and walls began to shake and a deafening sound filled the basement.

Everyone still inside hit the floor, protecting their heads from possible falling debris, but the ceiling was solid. Lydia had been through earthquakes before, and she’d survived an explosion, but this was somehow worse than both. She felt so claustrophobic she didn’t even try to breathe, out of fear she’d find herself unable too. For many seconds, she stayed on the floor, unable to tell if the rumbling had stopped.

“We’ve got to get out of here.” She didn’t realize it was Emily who was talking until Morgan and Rossi were helping her off the ground. “That was the explosives. If Cyrus planned a second round, the basement might crumble too.”

The four of them made a run for the secret door in the school, Lydia now holding onto Rossi for support, so that Derek could lead the group and make sure the rest of the kids got out.

“How’s Spencer?” she asked as they climbed back into the school building.

“I imagine Hotch has got at least seven guys holding him down right now to keep him from running into the rubble to find you. How are you?”

Lydia didn’t want to answer that. Not only was she in a lot of physical pain, but after that explosion went off above her, her heart rate had been soaring.

Everyone’s eyes were on the smoking ruble that was the chapel, amazed by the destruction. Many kids were crying and women were no doubt waiting to see if their husbands had survived. Rossi kept pulling Lydia along, not letting her stop to watch. They walked through the barricade of armed men with ease.

“Lydia! Lydia!”

It was Spencer. He was looking for her. Lydia tried to yell back, but Rossi could tell she didn’t have it in her.

“I’ve got her, Reid!”

Not too long after, she saw her boyfriend pushing through the crowd, his eyes looking around frantically.

When their eyes met, it was like Lydia’s whole world muted to a dull roar. Three days. Three days she’d been trapped in that building, trying to reach the team and getting the shit kicked out of her. Three days she’d been quiet, accepting Cyrus’s blows. All to see him again.

She wanted to run to him, but she just didn’t have it in her. Luckily, he was eager enough for the both of them.

His arms were so tight around her that she felt like all her ribs would break at once and her nose was so deep in the side of his neck that the bruises burned. She couldn’t care less.

He pulled away all too fast and she was about to protest, when she realized why. As she looked up at him, a breeze hit her cheeks, making the wet trails going down her face apparent. She took in shuddering breaths.

She was crying.

“I’m sorry,” was all she could think to say, the back of her hand reaching to wipe them away, but for some reason, it didn’t feel like they were gone. “Sorry, I can’t-”

Before she could finish, he leaned down and kissed her. He kissed her in front of the whole team. In front of everyone. He’d never done that before. PDA was a very rare thing for him. But all her shock died on her lips, suffocating between his own.

“I love you,” he whispered, barely moving an inch away. “I love you so very much. You don’t need to apologize for your tears.”

Such kind and affirming words should have quelled her tears, but she just sobbed harder. “I love you too. Please don’t ever leave me.”

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @bispences, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

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