#if the text makes no sense it’s because my brain clocked out like 6 hours ago

[marmotish]

I know Talbott probably isnt a person who likes hugs a lot but he deserves one so maybe the 33 one(the hug from that one person who is allowed to hug you ) from the hug prompt? idk if u did that one already. Btw love your art <3

((thanks hon! ⭐️))

ok so Talbott and Freyja are both not-really-into-hugs and then I thought back to the Flying Solo SQ where Talbott tells MC about his parents - like if anyone needs a hug it’s the kid who confides in you about losing his parents and the impact it had on him, yeah? Ha…

“What are you doing?”

Freyja’s fingertips had barely brushed Talbott’s shoulder when she froze at the sudden sound of his voice. An answer to this question didn’t come straight away, instead an awkward silence began to weave its way around the two. The only sounds now were the night breeze through the tower, along with the hesitant shuffling of feet on the floor.

“Just …”

Just doing what people are supposed to do in this situation, right? Hug?

Talbott shook his head, eyes trained on the floor in front of his feet. “You don’t need to do that.”

Freyja hesitated, then withdrew her arm back to her side. It was a bit of a relief, if she was being honest. She wasn’t one for hugs, really. Even with her family she was always on the receiving end of hugs, reciprocating with far less intensity. And Talbott wasn’t one to play games using reverse psychology, so if he said she didn’t need to hug him, she really didn’t.

Distant laughter rang out from one of the Ravenclaw dormitories, helping to break the silence that permeated the atmosphere.

“I don’t know what to do then.” Freyja said quietly, almost to herself.

At this, Talbott huffed out a breath of air. It could almost have passed for laughter. “You don’t have to do anything, not if you don’t want to.”

A comfort, to be sure. Yet Freyja still felt like she’d missed an opportunity to show a little emotion in the face of what was evidently a vulnerable moment for her new friend.. “Sort of feels like I should do something though.”

Only a little over year ago, you couldn’t have paid the majority of her peers enough to sit next to her in class. Now she was a curse-breaker and a member of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, both of which completely overhauled her social life. Navigating all these new friendships had certainly required a lot of effort. She thought she was catching on to all the nuances of friendship pretty quickly, but apparently she’d misstepped in this particular interaction.

Talbott shuffled aside a little to put a bit of distance between the two of them, then turned to face her straight on. “I get that you’re probably trying to be nice by offering a hug, and if you were someone like Penny then I wouldn’t have said anything.”

Freyja frowned. Like Penny? Blonde? A Hufflepuff?

“Penny’s a hugger by nature.” Talbot explained. “Do I enjoy it? Not particularly, but I appreciate it. Because that’s honestly how she expresses herself. How she shows a friend she’s there for them. But you know, she never expects me to hug her.”

“Aye well, she’d be better off waiting for hell to freeze over if that wasn’t the case…”

Talbot snorted. “Well maybe not that unlikely, but it would be a pretty rare occasion.”

Freyja began to relax a little, the conversation seemingly moving away from her misguided attempt to hug him. She adjusted her sitting position to better appreciate the expanse of the night sky, dotted with countless stars, stretching out over the highlands.

“The thing is that she doesn’t want or expect me to act out a friendship that isn’t true to my own personality. Not wanting to hug my friend all the time doesn’t make me a bad friend, or a cold person. It’s just who I am.” Talbott continued. “And I don’t want or expect that of you either. If you genuinely want to offer a consolation hug, then go ahead. I won’t mind. But I’d be just as happy sitting and talking.”

Well this was embarrassing. Here Freyja was trying to comfort Talbott after sharing the story of how he lost his parents, and yet now he was reassuring her that not being physically affectionate was not a character defect. The corners of her mouth pulled up a little at this.

“I like the sitting and talking option.”

Talbott grinned. “me too.”

[adhd-witching]

Paralysis and Self Doubt

DISCLAIMER: All entries on this blog are made to simply share my thoughts, progress, and experiences as I live them. I am not an educator, I am not a medical professional, I am just a pagan witch with ADHD. I am not asking for sympathy, and I am not trying to gain attention, I am here to talk about how my disability affects my day to day life and progress as a practitioner.

Warning for talks of depression and being a general downer. This is just how I'm feeling today, and I think it's important to share because this side of witchcraft and deity worship isn't talked about very often.

My executive dysfunction is terrible today.

My plan for today from yesterday was for me to wake up, get dressed, deliver the readings I owe people, finish filling out my forms to send in for disability, and spend the day cleaning and organizing.

That did not happen.

Instead, I woke up, and I have not moved from my bed. I have not gotten dressed. As of 6:30 PM EST, I haven't eaten anything but half a bagel with cream cheese early this morning. I spent a good portion crying because I feel like a failure.

I feel paralyzed, and no matter how much I beg my mind to allow me to just stand up and do the things I need to do, my body will not listen.

I'm disappointed, because I thought I was finally starting to improve. I thought I was getting better. My dosage of Adderall had been upped the last time I saw my doctor, and it only made a difference for a couple of days. When I made this blog, my plan was to talk about how proud I was of myself for tidying up the house and setting up a brand new altar as a chance for me to talk about how good it felt to be so motivated. I never even got to that part. I stopped cleaning one day and I never started again, so everything piled all back up and I'm back to square one.

I desperately want to be able to function as a person, do daily rituals, and spend my time researching and learning. I want so badly to be able to spend hours upon hours reading about the gods, learning every epithet and story so I discuss them in depth with my friends and fellow worshippers, but most days I can't even move because I am simply frozen.

Many of the people I know are so dedicated to their practice, and it's so, so beautiful. They are able to meditate with their gods regularly, make the time for rituals and have the most beautifully decorated altars, and know those gods inside and out. They're all able to have in depth discussions with one another about praxis, about the deeper meaning behind certain texts, and as much as I love that for them and am happy for them. I also feel as if I'm never going to measure up to that.

With my ADHD, studying and remembering facts is so hard for me, and I never really learned how to take effective notes. Every time I try to open a book, or try to read a page of text, my brain goes blank. The words look like soup, I can't comprehend or retain anything. When I leave food offerings, what ends up happening most of the time is I forget they exist, which of course makes them.... gross.

I ask myself: "If I can't even make myself put on clothes, how can I effectively learn and grow as a worshipper and a witch?"

I feel useless. I feel incapable of giving my deities the love and attention they deserve, because I can barely give myself the love and attention I deserve. I don't even have my altar set up because I can't get out of bed, and when I do I'm too exhausted to make the time to arrange it. I feel like because I'm in such a rut, I'm not worthy or interesting enough to contribute to these discussions, and it sometimes feels like I'm excluded from them. All I have right now are the conversations I manage to have with the gods on my own. I've been doing this for several years now, and while I've had my ups and downs, this general sense of being overwhelmed and stuck is typical for me. I wake up, I watch the clock and beg my body to allow me to move, the sun starts to set, and before I know it another day has gone by with me accomplishing literally nothing.

I love to learn. I love learning about magic. I love learning about the gods. I love finding out new ways to practice, or new spells, or finding out something new about one of the deities I'm close with. I also love to sing, I love to draw, and I love to write.

Lately, I don't feel enthusiasm for any of those things. It's been this way for a long time.

I'm not asking for advice, or ways to fix this. It's not something that anyone can really change except for me, and the way to do that is by being patient with myself and waiting for my appointment to get my ADHD med dosage changed. I know that the gods love me and care about me regardless of my mental health or disability, and I know there's not any deadline for me to meet when it comes to progress. It's still hard to feel like everyone around me is having so much success, but my stress and insecurity is not anyone else's responsibility.

I bought John Beckett's Paganism in Depth as an audiobook to hopefully allow me to at retain information by listening to someone else talking. I've found reading books is a bit easier for me this way. If anyone has any good audiobook recommendations on witchcraft or paganism, feel free to send them in an ask or on my main blog.

The reason I am sharing this is because I want to document how I feel now, so that future me can look back on this time and (hopefully) reflect on how far I've come. I also want others to see that they are not alone in feeling this way. I'm sure this is a very common problem for witches and pagans suffering from executive dysfunction and mental illness, but it's not something that's talked about very often. I want to be transparent about my progress, which means being transparent about my lack of progress, too.

If you've read my ramblings this far, thank you so much. I hope you have a fantastic rest of your day.

[scabopolis]

Ummm because my brain could never come up with something as genius as yours, I will ask—nay, BEG—for more LoVe Vampire AU from Day 1 AU week.

Title: do not engage (part two of this little ficlet) Rating: PG-13 (some swears…because girl is still stressed) Pairing: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars, Additional Tags: Secret identity, vaguely vampire hunter related things, filed under: relationship obstacles, sharing of bagels, vampire Logan is probably far too schmoopy, tried to write angst but whooops I think it's fluff? Word Count: 1,800

For you, dear, @ayy-ohh? Anything. This one really got me stuck because...like...world building? What is that? And would vampires eat bagels? And why DOES Logan have a cell in his basement? So many questions. Anyway! Here it is! *** That she can’t remember ever seeing Logan Echolls in the daylight should have been Veronica’s first clue.

It’s just, given the nocturnal demands of her profession and thus her morning grumpiness, it was easy to miss. Easy to be grateful for. Easy to be relieved that Logan wasn’t like her college boyfriend—the kind of guy who insisted they wake up at 6:00 AM to go running and felt a day spent inside with the shades drawn was a day wasted.

There were, of course, other clues she missed.

Weirdly cryptic statements and obfuscations. (Given she was also prone to said crypticism, she didn’t press for fear he’d do the same.) His reticence towards beach days. (It seemed logical! Who doesn’t hate dodging tourists?) The weird way he’d linger at doorways of unfamiliar houses. (Again, given her own antipathy to socializing, his hesitation was something she understood.)

In retrospect, given that not pressing Logan on his vague answers landed her here—in a weird cell gnawing at the ropes her ex-boyfriend tied tightly around her wrists—she supposes she should have tried harder. She hears Logan’s footsteps on the stairs into the basement but doesn’t stop her attempt to undo the knots.

“I hope you have a good dental plan,” Logan says. She rolls her eyes and continues to work at the strands with her teeth. “Is there even a vampire hunter’s union? Might be something worth looking into. Though, given the general mistrust the position requires, electing a president might prove tricky.”

“God, staking you would have at least gotten you to shut up.”

“But then there’s the crushing guilt.”

“I would have managed.”

Do not engage. In the 36-ish hours she’s been in this cell, that’s been her motto. The secret to coping with the fact that your boyfriend is a vampire and that you and your dad are vampire hunters is to remain detached and cold.

Except it hasn’t been easy. Because her wrists hurt, she smells bad, and oh yeah, apparently she’s not as out of love with the bloodthirsty monster wearing the hell out of a henley and holding a bag of takeout as she thought.

“I got bagels,” he says.

As soon as he says it, the scent of cinnamon raisin wafts from the bag. He doesn’t wait for her to stand; simply slips the paper bag containing her bagel through the bars and slides it to her. Much like he’s done for their previous shared meals, he sits on the ground a safe distance from her and settles into eating his own.

She tears the paper bag and sees that not only has Logan brought her a bagel, he’s also brought her some sort of sandwich and a chocolate chip cookie. God. What an asshole.

What is his endgame here? If he wanted to kill her, he would have done it by now. It’s only a matter of time until her dad begins to question whatever story Logan texted him from her phone. Her dad will show up and he will have questions. What will Logan say then?

“What will I say to who?” Logan asks.

Shit. Detachment is also easier when inside thoughts remain inside thoughts. “No one.”

“If you’re talking about your dad, he’s out of town for the rest of the week.”

She concentrates on the pattern of the cinnamon swirl laced throughout her breakfast. “What do you mean?”

“According to the text he sent you last night, he had to go to Vegas. Vampire gambling ring of some sort?”

“You’re lying.”

“Takes a liar to know a liar.”

Veronica rolls her eyes and takes a large bite of her bagel, surveying the interior of her holding cell. And yes, fine, she technically has a policy of not engaging with the pointy fanged one, but she has questions.

“What is the point of having a cell in your basement? Is it for weird sex stuff? Or weird vampire stuff?”

“Who says those two things are mutually exclusive?”

She rolls her eyes. “Spare me, please. I’m eating.”

“I’ll tell you but you won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“My friend, Mac?” He extends his legs out in front of him. “Once a month, this is her guest suite.”

Veronica frowns. “For weird sex stuff?”

He raises an eyebrow in amusement which, fair, she should probably stop using the phrase weird sex stuff.

Wait. Is he saying—?

“Logan,” she says carefully, “is Mac a werewolf?” He nods, and Veronica’s bagel drops to the floor. “Could you be more of a vampiric cliche? Honestly! Does a zombie do your taxes? Does a ghoul trim your hedges?”

“I trim my own hedges, thank you very much.”

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or it might be the remaining vestiges of adrenaline leaving her body, but Veronica laughs. Just a little bit. At best it’s a chuckle. Still, it’s enough to make Logan smile in that way he sometimes does—like he can’t believe his luck that he even gets to be in the same room as Veronica. It makes something feel heavy and uncomfortable in the pit of her stomach. Do not engage.

“You really didn’t know?” she asks.

Logan’s answer with a slow nod. “I didn’t know.”

“Then how—?”

“It wasn’t an ambush, Veronica.” He pinches off a small piece of his bagel. (Sourdough, she guesses. Probably with jalapeno cream cheese because the man added jalapenos to everything.) She watches as Logan rolls the bread between his fingers. “The date was real but one of Dick’s friends recognized you somehow.”

“You were the one who threw me into a tree.”

“Yeah, and as far as they know, you’re dead. As far as they know, I was so enraged a vampire hunter tricked me that I took you home to finish you off.”

“Which means if you let me go—”

“They’ll know I lied.” He shrugs. “Either they kill me or your dad does. This way you’re safe.”

“Logan—”

“Sorry,” he says. “You called dibs on the killing?”

“Poor little vamp with a death wish.” She doesn’t mean for it to sound so fond. What is wrong with her?

The corner of his mouth twitches with a fleeting smile. There’s a ticking clock on their time together and now they both know it.

“I’ve never seen a vampire eat as much food as you,” she says.

He sets his bagel aside. “Dine with a lot of vampires?”

“Enough to know you eating that bagel is like me eating a bag of sour gummies.”

“Meaning?”

“You might like the taste of a lightly toasted sesame bagel, but an hour later you need to puncture the carotid artery of a single mother to really satisfy yourself.”

“You know sesame seeds get caught in my teeth. And single mothers come with too much guilt.”

“Hedge fund managers?”

“Now you’re talking.”

Veronica has questions, of course she does. More questions than she can properly express—wonders how old he is, who turned him, who gets him blood and how, why he’s friends with Dick Casablancas, if Logan is safe with Dick as a friend—but she doesn’t ask any of those. Because he asks the most important question first.

“What are we going to do, Veronica?”

She stands up, brushes cinnamon raisin crumbs off of her pants. (She catches a whiff of her unshowered self and cringes. So much for their farewell existing as a perfectly preserved memory in the mind of her undead ex-boyfriend.) “There’s no we, Logan. There can’t be.”

He can’t let her go, he can’t keep her locked up, and she can’t stay.

Logan pushes himself up off the ground and comes to meet her at the bars to the cell. “Yeah.”

“First, you’re going to let me out of here.” She wraps her hands around the bars. Logan does just like she’d hoped and does the same, his pinkies barely grazing her knuckles. “And then I never want to see you ever again.”

“That’s what you want?”

God. What a fucking idiot. Of course that isn’t what she wants. What she wants is to go back two days. To return to that night when Logan made pancakes for dinner, and they got drunk on rum and cokes, and then he kissed down her spine as they lay in bed.

She nods anyway. Presses her head against the bars.

“Fine.” Veronica squeezes her eyes shut. “If you ever need anything?” She nods again and she feels the gentle touch of Logan’s lips to her forehead. How is he always so warm? It never made sense.

“I won’t.”

And then, much to her surprise, he walks away. Without letting her out.

She opens her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” he says, a portrait of portrait insouciance once more. “You didn’t expect me to let you go now did you? What if this show of emotion is a long con? I could wake up to find you standing over my body poised to pull back my black out shades.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Nighty night, Veronica.”

Logan doesn’t return to the basement and eventually she falls into a fitful sleep, waking up sometime before the sun rises. She definitely needs to pee and she’s so sick of the ‘toilet’ in her cell. Logan should still be awake. Maybe if she yells really—

Finishing that thought proves to be unnecessary because as soon as Veronica’s eyes adjust to the dim light, she notices the door to her cell is ajar. She’s barely thinking as she jumps from the bed and races up the stairs.

“Logan!” she calls out.

Her first stop is the kitchen, where she maneuvers a knife in between the strands of the ropes around her wrists and works to free herself. Her cell phone is waiting for her on the wireless charger Logan keeps in the kitchen. No messages from her dad, but she sends one to check in. She rubs at the tender skin on her wrists as she searches each room of Logan’s house.

As far as she can tell, there isn’t much missing. Some of his toiletries are gone (her toothbrush is still beside the sink) and she thinks maybe some of his clothes too. His motorcycle is still in the garage but the BMW is gone.

So. That’s it? He’s just gone? What about his house? There’s a housing crisis in southern California and this asshole thinks it’s acceptable to simply abandon a perfectly good home? He didn’t even leave a note.

It’s really the irresponsibility that—

Her call rings through to his voicemail. Rolls her eyes at the Dylan Thomas quote that greets her. That’s new.

“If you think I’m watering your plants for you while you’re gone, you are completely delusional.”

He responds while she’s in the shower. (What? She’s really supposed to put up with shitty water pressure at her place when he has a rain shower and heated bathroom tiles?)

Miss me already?

She responds with a garlic emoji.

[dontmindifidontt]

EARLY MORNINGS AND OVERTIME | Nanami Kento x Reader JJK fanfic | Chapter 6: Returning the Favor

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader (fem, first person pov) Word count: 4852 Fic Summary: A smutty fic in which Nanami Kento brightens up the mundane, flour-dusted life a college dropout working in a bakery. Chapter Summary: Another scary situation causes Nanami to slowly begin opening up about his past. Warnings: drinking, oral male receiving - 18+, minors dni.

Read on AO3. Masterlist. Please feel free to ask me to correct anything in the above info, this is my first fic and I want to be sure I’m following all fic-posting etiquette. Ty!

My thoughts have been focused on one thing and one thing only all weekend. Him.

I went about my normal routine during my two days off: I read my books while drinking my coffee in the morning, and wine at night. I tidied my apartment and took care of my laundry. I took a trip to the grocery store to restock my fridge. I do everything I normally would but it's all under a haze of memories from Friday evening. Laying in bed Sunday night I hear the familiar ping of my phone, and see Nanami's name on the lock screen for the first time since he returned from his trip.

| It's me. I managed to get a new phone with my same number this weekend, though I never got around to grocery shopping... You'll be seeing me at the bakery tomorrow.

Feeling grateful for the warning I quickly swipe to my clock app and set my alarm for twenty minutes earlier tomorrow. That should give me enough time to get ready without rushing. Not that I need to wear more makeup or style my hair any differently when I know I'll be seeing him, but he makes me want to walk out the door with a little more confidence in the morning and the perfect shade of lipstick helps me find that confidence.

Lunchtime rolls around at work and I don't bother stopping my eyes from darting up at the door every time the bell chimes. Sure enough Nanami steps through the door and makes his way to the register, a smile creeping up on his lips as he gets closer. He says hello and picks out the sandwich he'd like to purchase before we get past the small talk.

"I want to take you out on Friday night. There's an outdoor wine bar downtown I think you'd enjoy, since I know how much you like wine..." he has a bit of a glimmer in his eye while alluding to my wine-fueled display from the other night. "So what do you say?"

I can't help but be taken aback at his question - it's only Monday and he's already asking me out for this weekend? Maybe he's truly trying to be less 'aloof' around me.

"Yes, I'd love to!" I reply without hiding any excitement.

"Perfect," his mouth curls in a smile at my answer, "I want to show you off."

Show me off? He's never said anything like that before. That feels like we're... together.

Before I can say anything he continues, "I can't stop thinking about how god damn good you looked the other night... all weak and begging for me."

I freeze completely, shifting my eyes around to make sure no one else is within earshot.

He senses my surprise at what he has to say but doesn't stop, "It's all I can think about, that and showing off how good you look when you know you're about to be fucked by me."

Now I really freeze. "But the face I really love, when you're desperate and practically crying for me to fill you, that face is just for me."

I nod in agreement, my mouth slightly open but no words coming out.

"So I'll see you then?" He asks nonchalantly, like we're having a totally innocent conversation.

"Yes," I stammer out, watching as he turns to walk out the door and return to work.

I spend the rest of the day finishing my work in a dazed state, operating on autopilot. All I can do is play over my conversation with Nanami and think about what's going to happen Friday night. I was excited to see him again to begin with but now... this is a different kind of excitement.

As much as I enjoyed myself this past weekend, I couldn't help but want more. He gave me so much and yet I didn't even get to see him with his clothes off. He hardly did more than loosen his tie. I know for a fact I won't be able to concentrate for the rest of the week knowing what I plan to do on Friday. How I plan to make him feel...

Friday

I clock out the second my shift is over and practically speed walk home to my apartment to get ready. After staring at my closet for probably an hour each day this week, I ultimately decided on a simple but curve-hugging black midi dress, paired with strappy heels. I wear a deep red lipstick to accentuate my mouth, sophisticated earrings that hang slightly below my earlobes, and apply a touch more highlight than usual.

After getting the name of the wine bar over text I tell Nanami I'll meet him there. Getting picked up by him felt so formal and I didn't mind having the time to myself on the walk. It helps me calm my nerves as I listen to music in my earbuds along the way.

There was no mistaking that I was at the right address once I walked up the winebar from outside. It was decorated immaculately with vines of white and red flowers, looping around the outdoor space as if the bar was a part of nature. The floral decor, however, did not dim the romantic sex appeal of the space. It was still dark and sleek, with a single candle on each of the high tops lining the bar, most of them occupied by attractive looking couples in their 20s or 30s.

Distracted by my surroundings, I jumped when I felt a familiar hand grip the small of my back. Whispering "you look gorgeous" into my ear, Nanami pulls me into his side, firmly pressing a kiss to the top of my head after giving the compliment.

"Thank you," I look up at him, catching a glimpse of myself in the reflection of his glasses, "I had a feeling you'd like this dress." I purposefully left out the fact I spent days deciding on it.

He leads us across the outdoor bar towards one of the few open high tops, and we stand beside each other at it. After waving over a server to place our drink orders (I went with his suggestion of some sort of fancy red I can't even remember,) he turns his full attention back to me.

"Tell me about your week," he states, more than asks.

Attempting to make my week sound more exciting than it actually was, I tell him about the new dessert I finally perfected in the bakery, the current book I'm reading, and strategically leave out the part about how many hours I spent daydreaming waiting for today to be Friday.

He smiles and nods along while I talk, fully immersing himself in the conversation and giving replies of his own. I have always seemed to view him as this straightforward yet vague man, though the vague piece of his demeanor is slowly chipping away.

Sipping my wine, I nearly spit it out when I hear him say, "I've thought about you every night this week." He wraps one arm around my side as he said it, pulling me in closer so that I'm leaning against him. I feel grateful for the support as my knees go weak at the scent of his cologne. Memories of last weekend begin filling my brain at the smell.

He continues to go on about how much he looked forward to seeing me this week, and my mind begins to wander. Is this him opening up? He told me he wanted to be less aloof around me, I think this is it. I don't let myself feel too accomplished in cracking his shell, however, because I remember just how many mysteries there still remain about him and his past.

We continue to chat about our weeks and flirt in the process, sneaking glances at each other's lips as we raise our glasses for a sip. Something about the stare of his eyes peering over a glass makes my stomach tighten and my thighs clench. His stare is just so all consuming.

When it comes time for him to walk me home, the combination of the wine buzz with the excitement of how well the night went makes me feel like I'm walking back on clouds. We continue to chat playfully and bump hips into each other gently as we walk side by side, my excitement building with every step since I planned to invite him inside once we arrived.

As I'm about to crack a joke about the bickering couple that stood next to us at the bar, I feel Nanami tense up and stop in his tracks beside me.

"Whats wr-" I ask, and before I can finish he juts an arm out in front of me pushing me against the wall of a nearby building towards a small alleyway.

"Stay right here," he demands, leaving me concealed in the shadows from the tall buildings on each side of me. He turns quickly and stalks back in the direction we came, reaching inside his suit jacket towards his waistband. I peek my head out around the corner of the building to see him wielding a patterned blunt sword - where the hell did that come from?

I panic and pinch my eyes shut, turning my body so that I'm once again concealed between building, back pressed against the wall. I try to repeat 'everything's fine' in my head over and over again, afraid to wonder what would cause Nanami to stalk after an unknown threat behind us. Was something following us?

Before I can work myself into a frenzy, Nanami reappears in front of me, gripping my shoulders and asking if I'm alright. It's a familiar sight from the last strange encounter we faced in the bakery a couple weeks ago.

"I'm okay but what the HELL happened? Do you have a WEAPON? What's going on" I tried to keep myself from crying as the panic from the past few moments overwhelmed me. Nanami tried his best to calm me down and brought me in for a hug, but I continued to demand answers. After he repeatedly avoids my questions I snap. Memories of him distracting me with a kiss the last time we were in this situation come flooding to the surface and I'm suddenly furious.

Tears pricking at the corners of my eyes I finally blurt what I've been wanting to say for weeks. "Why won't you tell me what's going on!? I really thought you were starting to open up to me but now you're ignoring my questions all over again. It makes me feel like I don't even know you at all!" I pant after letting it out, staring at him expectantly as we remain standing in the alleyway, my back against the wall.

"There's a reason I don't tell you much about me or my past..." he trails off at the end of his sentence but I stay silent to force him to continue. "It's to protect you."

I tilt my head and narrow my eyes at him in equal parts anger and confusion. "What makes you think I think I need somebody else to protect me? Or even worse, that I need to be completely oblivious as to why?"

He shakes his head in frustration before answering.

"I just... all I can say is what I used to do, what I still can do, is dangerous. And I don't tell you not because I don't trust you, but because you're safer this way." He seems to be having a silent, internal debate with himself before he continues. "I wasn't always a part of the corporate world, working amongst businessmen with no thoughts behind their eyes besides money. I used to work a form of... security. And I had to protect myself and others from very bad things. What happened tonight and the other week in the bakery are related to that."

I stared back in silence, completely in shock and unsure what to even ask next.

"These... invisible problems I've told you about once before, at the bakery? They follow me. I'm used to seeing them everywhere I go, but it wasn't a problem until recently. I'm worried that now they're focusing on you for being... connected to me." He seemed to think very carefully about his choice in words.

Hearing the honesty in his voice makes me feel I can trust him, but I still find myself struggling with the idea that he can't tell me what's really going on. Is it truly for my benefit not to know? It's hard to see how it's possible for me to be better off in the dark.

Still feeling unsure, but slightly more trusting in his decisions, I respond. "I trust you, Nanami. I still don't love the fact that I'm more or less clueless to what's going on, but I appreciate you telling me more tonight. This doesn't scare me, you know." That last part is only partially true, but he seems to let out a breath at my response.

"I promise I'd tell you everything if that's what would keep you safe, but I truly don't think that's the case. At least not now."

I choose to trust him and hold off on asking any more questions. I let out a sigh, motioning for us to continue the walk back to my apartment.

The two of us stand at the foot of my doorsteps, still shaking off the events of the night. "I don't think you should be staying at your place tonight - definitely not alone... I don't know if we were followed," Nanami says with a hint of guilt in his voice.

"I told you; I'm not scared, I'll be fine."

"I should stay with you. Just in case," he suggests and I immediately push back.

"I promise I'm fine," I reason with him, and he looks visibly stressed at my refusal of his help. "I'll call you if anything happens." He eases up at that but still looks apprehensive, as if he's still not fully convinced he's willing to drop the conversation. He takes another long look at me and realizes I'm not backing down on my assertion that I can fend for myself.

"Fine," he caves, "I won't stay tonight. But I'll have the sound on my phone turned all the way up if you need me. In fact, you should probably stay on the phone with me after I leave until you fall asleep."

I let out a short laugh at this suggestion, unable to hide my amusement at how desperately he is trying to keep tabs on me. It's endearing, it really is.

He looks confused at first but his face softens when he realizes I'm truly not scared anymore. "I just want you to be safe, okay?" his voice is pleading and his stare shifts back and forth from my eyes to my lips. "I... care about you and I have the ability to protect you, so that's what I'm going to do. I won't let anything hurt you."

I think back to the not one, but two, times he has done exactly that. He seemed to flip a switch and instinctually shift into the role of protector and fighter like it was a second nature. I would be lying if I said it didn't turn me on.

I watch his face as he continues to look down at me with total seriousness, meaning every word he just said. Something in his eyes unlocks a part of me. A swirl of emotions I feel as if I've never before tapped in to rise to the surface. I feel more than just protected, I feel listened to, cared for, and truly valued.

An overwhelming urge to show Nanami just how grateful I feel begins to take over me, and a familiar heat begins to warm my skin. He's already given me so much, and shown me how he feels. He's put himself between me and danger, he's already corrected or apologized for anything I've had issues with, and after last Friday night's escapades he has truly givena lot to me.

My core tightens at the memory of how he reacted when he unexpectedly came home early only to find me half-drunk, blasting music and dancing on his couch without a care in the world, wearing his shirt with barely much else underneath. My knees go weak and I feel a familiar pulsation begin to thrum between my legs when I remember the long, slow licks he dragged across the most sensitive part of my body. I need to make him feel the same pleasure I did that night.

Breathless and unsteady on my feet, I lurch for the collar of his shirt and pull his face down to meet mine. Without missing a beat he wraps his arms around me, linking them against my lower back. His mouth crushes mine in a kiss and I jump, wrapping my legs around his waist and whispering in his ear to walk us inside. He climbs the few steps to the door and we push through the entryway.

Shutting the door behind him, my apartment is silent except for the occasional drawing of breath from either of us and the sound of our palms aggressively sliding across clothing.

"My room's that way," I say while pointing an arm down the hall, still suspended above the ground by his hold around me.

"Who said I wanted to do this on your bed?" He replies suggestively. My eyes widen as I pull my face away from his to stare.

He winks as he says next, "You seemed to like being on the couch just fine last time."

I push both my hands against his broad chest in order to get out of his hold and plant my feet back on the ground. In one swift movement I grab his wrist and drag him over to the small couch just a few steps away in my living room, pushing him backwards so he is seated with his legs spread and feet apart on the floor.

I put one hand on each of his knees as I lean my upper half forward to kiss him slowly, trailing my mouth and small flicks of my tongue along his jawline, eventually making my way to his neck as he groans in response. After tracing circles along his knees and up parts of his thigh with my fingers I instead busy my hands with his shirt, prying apart each of the buttons until it is fully open. With his chest and stomach exposed I can see the heaving rise of his chest as he breathes. The sight makes my heart beat faster.

"You taking control now, huh?" he teases with a smirk while making no attempt to move out from under me.

"I'm just settling up what I owe," I reply seductively while kicking one leg up onto the couch beside him so I am halfway into a straddle, leaning my chest closer to his and ready to begin trailing my kisses lower.

He pulls his head back to look at me inquisitively. He then grabs the hip of my other leg and pulls my knee forward so that both are on either side of him, bringing my hips down into a full straddle against him, our faces only inches apart. "You know you'll never have to owe me for anything, right?" He asks in all seriousness.

Suddenly my cheeks are blushing not from my arousal but from sheer embarrassment. "I know, obviously..." I reply, trying to hiding the fact that my dirty talk wasn't coming across as sexy as I intended.

"Good," he eases up in his seated position once more, bucking his hips slightly as adjusts his position and making my pussy throb in the process. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to with me," before I have a chance to explain hooking up with him is all I can ever think about he continues, "And on the other hand... you have free reign to dowhatever you want with me."

With that I am absolutely soaked.

Not bothering to attempt any more dirty talk, I decide to put my mouth to better use. I kiss up and down the side of his neck while undoing the belt of his pants. While I tug at his belt he pulls my dress down from my shoulders in one swoop. After unzipping his pants far enough to pull off I frantically crawl back down off his lap, letting my knees hit the floor as I pull both his pants and underwear down with me.

I pull them off completely and toss to the side, still in a kneeling position. Bracing myself, I slowly raise my gaze back up to his lap and my mouth goes dry at the sight. He had pulled off his unbuttoned shirt while I was repositioning myself and was now fully nude in front of me, slightly reclined with his elbows propped up on the back of the couch as if in a total state of relaxation.

My lips curl into a devilish smile while I take in the look on his face. He is visibly out of breath and staring at me with such concentration it feels as if his eyes could burn holes. Despite that, he doesn't speak, and I can only assume it's because he doesn't want to beg. Deciding to move at a torturously slow pace because of this, I scan my eyes along his neck, counting the few veins that have popped up along the sides. Immediately following I trace my gaze across his collarbone, to the rounded and muscular shoulder connected at the end. Flicking my eyes to his middle, I make him wait as I watch his body rise with each breath, placing my hands on either sides of his waist. Finally, I look down to his lap.

As I do, I see his dick twitch slightly in response as if he can feel my eyes on him. I bring my face closer to stare, purposefully hovering over him so he can feel the warm air of my breath without actually being touched. He's so visibly hard that it doesn't make sense how he can sit so comfortably before me. It's as if all of his concentration is focused on letting me be in control at my own pace, despite how fucking aching he must feel.

Deciding to sneak one last look at his face before committing every ounce of my being to making my mouth feel like paradise on him, I peer upwards through my eyelashes. At that same moment he moves his arms from their propped position on the couch to come towards me, cupping each hand on either sides of my face without dropping his stare on my lips. "Don't make me beg," he grunts through his teeth.

I hold back my taunting smile as I reply, "Wouldn't dream of it." With that, I slide my tongue down the underside of his cock, beginning at the top. Once I reach the base I wrap the tip of my tongue around him and slide back up, angling my head to the side. He exhales sharply at the sensation and I do it again, fully coating his dick in my saliva.

Wetting the inner portion of my lips I pucker and press my mouth to his tip, slowly taking him in but stopping once his head has just gotten to the tip of my tongue. He desperately tries not to squirm while panting and swearing under his breath, clearly feeling inpatient but I don't budge. Instead, I suction on the very end of his head, and trace my finger down his shaft towards his balls. Cupping them, I begin to massage them back and forth and he involuntarily bucks his hips in response.

"Patient," I say, "I thought you weren't going to beg?"

Before he can respond I swap the positioning of my mouth and my hand, gripping his still wet dick in my fist as I press my tongue against the smooth skin of his balls. I widen my mouth and use my tongue to slip one into my mouth and begin to push and pull on it with the suction of my mouth. His hands now grip the top of my head as his fingers flex as if he's desperate to keep control of all of the muscles in his body. Again using my tongue I swirl and suck, alternating to his other ball and pushing it around the inside of my mouth with varying pressure. My hand that's working his dick continues at an even pace, occasionally pressing my thumb down on the center of his head and rubbing small circles.

My other hand reaches around and grips the firm side of his ass, pressing my fingers into the muscle. His breathing gets faster and I open my mouth wider to let go, instead returning to tracing my tongue up and down his shaft.

He hums in pleasure at the way my mouth glides faster and faster along the wetness. I continue to slip up and down, enjoying the sound of his shaky breathing, until I decide to suddenly change course and part my lips, taking him into my mouth fully. His breath catches and his abs tighten as he grabs ahold of my head in his hands, gasping out an 'oh fuck' to the new sensation.

Using every muscle I have I hollow out my cheeks and tuck my lips tight, careful to keep my jaw wide enough to fully separate my top and bottom rows of teeth. I bob my head back and forth, feeling his smooth skin slide against my swollen lips and pressing the back of my tongue against his twitching head. Going deeper with each thrust I can sense that he's nearing release. His hips begin to rise up into my face more and more, demanding that I take him all in.

Fully preparing to work my jaw past the point of pain I grip onto his backside, holding his cheeks in my hands so that I can keep him pressed into me. Caging my head in place with his hands he continues to cuss and mutter variations of 'you feel so fucking good' before he can no longer speak and just grunts with each thrust.

Feeling him twitch as he nears the back of my throat I know he's seconds from coming undone and I brace myself for the release. I hum a moan around him to give him the go-ahead to finish, sending vibrations along his cock with the sound. His hips stutter and he moans in response, jolting forward and nearly choking me on a gag as I feel a warm burst of thick liquid coat the far roof of my mouth. He continues to pump two more spurts into my throat and mouth as I moan in pleasure at the fact that I've just made him reach his climax. He gently starts to slide himself out of my mouth and I keep my lips wrapped tight around him until he's fully out, then swallow tightly.

Licking my lips I raise my eyes up at his disheveled state, seeing him stare down at me in equal parts disbelief and amazement while out of breath. "Holy fucking shit," is all he can say and I pull myself up from my knees, straddling him once again only this time in nothing but my bra and soaked-through panties.

As I hover my hips over him, careful not to apply pressure to his oversensitive cock below me, he reaches around to fully cup my ass in both hands. He begins to slide two of his fingers around, reaching to press up against my entrance.

I stop him and tease with a smile, "that was my turn to leave you exhausted and fucked blind."

He can barely form a sentence while grappling for a better grip on my hips as I lift myself up off the couch and slide my dress back on.

"Save your energy for next time," I wink, "I plan on making you need it."

..........

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thank you for reading !! pls tell me everyone has seen the new official Nanami art with the undone tie im crying

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[cherryeol04]

Late Night (M)

Pairings: Jisung x Reader Genre: Smut, humor, romance? Word Count: 3k Author’s Note: I feel like the ending was rushed a bit and not my best. But I wrote this instead of sleeping, so I hope you enjoy another Jisung from yours truly! 💖💖

The dream you had left you hot and bothered in a way that you hadn’t felt for quite some time. That was the sad reality you faced when dating an idol. Going weeks, if not months, without being near each other and the only thing to placate you were sleep deprived nightly messages that half the time didn’t make any sense and rushed good morning texts that usually didn’t make it to you until well in the afternoon. It was a struggle and in times like this, it really showed. It was still relatively early in the morning, you were sure and a quick glance at the clock told you it was only 4am.

Very fucking early in the morning. Way too early to even be horny, but you couldn't deny the fact that you were with the way your pussy throbbed between your legs and a carnal urge was trying to take over your body. The dream had been so explicit and had seemed so real that when you woke up, a wave of sadness washed over you. Just moments ago you had your boyfriend's cock in your hand, his breathy moans filling the room as you worked your tongue over the smooth, mushroom head. The taste that filled your mouth as precum leaked freely into it was so familiar and warm that there was no way you could have been dreaming. But you were and you absolutely hated both your brain and body.

With a groan, you rolled onto your side, hand reaching out to grab at your cellphone - wincing when the light of the screen hurt your pupils. It took a moment to adjust to the light, but eventually you did as you unlocked the phone and went straight to your messages. There were about 45 unread, most coming from the group chat you had with the boys. Normally it was filled with random dad jokes from Changbin, or cute cat videos and ASMR videos from Minho and Jeongin. You skipped it for now. Your mind was set on messaging your boyfriend, though you were almost 100% sure that he wouldn't be able to do anything. You knew Stray Kids was busy preparing for a comeback which meant long hours of practice in every department, meetings upon meetings and countless photoshoots and video shoots for trailers and music videos.

It was very hectic and you had to commend them for their dedication to the job. Their passion for music and being an idol clearly showed in times like these. But as a consequence it left you boyfriendless for months, with only your hand and your toys to take care of you. And while your favorite clit stimulator always got the job done, there was only so much you could take before you really started to crave the real thing. And it seemed like you were finally at your breaking point.

Baby

Are you awake?

Baby

No. Who in their right mind would be awake at this hour?

Baby

Jisung....

Baby

Y/n....

Baby

Come over~

Baby

It's 4am! I got practice at 6!

Baby

Then why are you still awake???

Baby

.....

So when and why did you want me to be there?

Baby

Now, and because I miss you

Baby

I miss you too but that's not a very good reason for me to get a ride across town at 4am.

Baby

I'm horny and dreamt of you

Baby

Oh? Do tell~

Baby

Not until you come over

Baby

😩 I'll see what I can do

Baby

Don't forget your key~

You had to admit, it was rather easy to convince Jisung to come over. Though there wasn't really a guarantee that would come over. It wasn't like he actually drove and could just hop in a car and make his way to your place. He would either have to wake a manager and ask for a ride, or somehow find some sort of public transportation. And walking was certainly out of the picture because it would be way after 6 am before he could even make halfway to your house. A part of you felt sorry for even suggesting he come over, but another part of you hoped he was able to find a ride and get over as quickly as possible.

The dream was still fresh in your mind, plaguing your thoughts as you tried to focus on anything but the idea of Jisung coming over. But it was there, standing proud and erect in the forefront of your brain and you were becoming increasingly aware of just how much you desperately missed his cock. Well, you missed Jisung too, but you were particularly fond of the appendage that hung between his legs. But honestly, who could blame you? He wasn't small, but he wasn't overly big either. If you had to put a word to it, he was about average size, but his cock was absolutely perfect. The skin was tan, much like the rest of Jisung's body which you absolutely adored, the head usually a pale pink unless he was really hot and bothered. Then it became ruddy and looked so divine and juicy enough to eat.

You groaned as your mind wandered further, lost in the memories of the weight of Jisung's cock in your mouth, as it always filled it out nicely. You could feel yourself drooling at the thought, frowning slightly. Get a hold of yourself. There was no point in fantasizing about it yet. A quick touch to your phone screen showed no new messages from Jisung and after double checking your chat with him, there wasn't anything indicating he wasn't coming. There was still hope.

With hopes of distracting your dreadfully dirty mind, you grabbed the TV remote and after fiddling with it for a bit, you turned YouTube back on and just randomly hit one of the videos in your recommended list. It was some movie review channel that was reviewing one of your favorite film series Hellraiser. It was good enough and within mere seconds of the video playing, you were drawn in and actually managed to forget about both Jisung and the dream. For the better part of twenty minutes, you were so engrossed in the video, snickering at the little quipes the reviewer gave here and there while discussing the movie that you didn't hear the door of your apartment being unlocked, or the soft footsteps growing closer to your bedroom door.

So blind were you to the outside world, that it wasn't until you felt cold fingers grazing over your shoulder that you became aware of the presence in your room. Startled, you jerked up, eyes landing on Jisung as he stood there with an almost sheepish expression if it weren't overshadowed but the dark circles under his eyes and you could clearly see just how exhausted he was. A pang of guilt bubbled up in your stomach and you really regretted inviting him over. You regretted all the dirty thoughts you had about what you would do to him if he did show up. At that very moment, you wanted nothing more than to lay him down on your bed and make him go to sleep. Would that leave you incredibly unsatisfied and most likely angry in the morning? Yes, but it would be worth it to make sure Jisung was getting sleep, even if only for a couple hours before he had to be up again.

"You came."

"I did." He flashed you a gummy smile that warmed your heart and you opened your arms towards him. With a soft sigh, he climbed into the bed and practically fell into them, head nuzzling against your chest as you both settled down. Running your fingers through his hair, you hummed softly while placing a gentle kiss to the top of head. "So, gonna tell me your dream?" he muttered and you couldn't help but giggle.

"I suppose so. You did come all the way over to see me~" you cooed teasingly. He snorted and lifted his head, eyes staring up at you curiously and you had to stop yourself from pinching his cheeks because he was just too damn cute. "I had a dream that I could make you cum in 3 seconds."

"Pfft, I wish. The amount of orgasms I could have during the day." he laughed and you rolled your eyes at him.

"I'm serious. All I had to do was get on my knees and you were instantly hard and two licks to your cock and you were cumming." You shifted under him, arms tightening around him with undisclosed desire and you buried your face into his shoulder. God you wanted him so much, that even just telling him the bare basics of the dream had you horny all over again.

"It would take more than two licks, kitten." he practically purred into your ear and you couldn't stop the whimper that left your lips. "But you are right, I would be so hard if you dropped to your knees in front of me." Daring to look at him, you pulled back. What greeted you was such an erotic sight. Even in the dim light of the room, you could see just how blown his pupils were, eyes staring so intensely at you that you physically shivered from the lust flashing through them. "Is that why you called me here? So you could blow me?" he asked, head tilting to the side.

"Uh...yeah?" You didn't sound too sure, but really that had been your intention - to get your hands back on Jisung's cock and be reminded of just how good he tasted. "Please?" You tacked on at the end, just for good measures. He smiled, swooping down into what was anything but a kiss. Your lips barely touched and it left you yearning for me. God damn it. He was such a tease. Pulling away, Jisung flopped over on to his back, arms moving to rest behind his head.

"Well then, have at it." The nonchalance of the situation only fueled your arousal and you were scrambling onto your hands and knees before you knew it. Moving between his legs, you reached up with one hand and palmed over him. His cock twitched slightly at the touch and you could feel it filling out the longer you stroked him. It was hot, you couldn't lie, watching the way it bobbed and lifted, tenting the sweatpants he was wearing. Leaning in, you mouthed at his dick, tongue running roughly against the pilled fabric. Soft groans filled the air and you glanced up, eyes locking with Jisung's hooded ones watching you. His lips were slightly parted and wet, another groan leaving them as your fingers toyed with the head of his cock. With a light touch, you pressed against the slit, grinning as precum soaked through, wetting your finger. Teasing just a bit more, you gathered more of the liquid before sitting up and bringing your finger to your mouth. 

You made a show of it, parting your lips and letting your tongue swipe against your fingertip, moaning lewdly while wrapping your lips around your finger and giving it a few sucks. There wasn’t much of a taste, but that really didn’t matter. You were doing this more for Jisung than for yourself and judging from the way he shifted on the bed, fists clenched tightly in the sheets, it was doing a great job riling him up. “Taste good, kitten?” You pulled your finger out with a pop, licking your lips as a feline-like grin spread across your face.

“Delicious.” Humming softly to yourself, you scooted closer to his body, fingers grasping his waistband and giving a light tug. “Your kitten’s hungry.” you pouted at him, laughter leaving him as he lifted his hips up enough for you to slide his pants and boxers down in one go. 

“Well we can’t have that, now can we?” he mused, raising himself up on his elbows. You gave a hum of acknowledgment, though your attention was currently taken by the beautiful cock that laid so proudly against his abdomen, head already a ruddy shade with a pearl of precum beaded at the top. Reaching down, Jisung wrapped his hand around his cock and gave it a few pumps, soft grunts leaving his parted lips. His thumb swiped over the tip, gathering what precum was there and held it out towards you. “Come on baby. Come and eat.” 

Tossing his pants over the side of the bed, you leaned over him and took the offered thumb into your mouth, tongue swiping against the slightly salty skin - licking it nice and clean. Sucking on it, you smirked at the small ‘fuck’ Jisung uttered before pulling off the finger. Shifting closer, you pressed your lips against his in a deep and heated kiss that lasted for only a few short seconds - a calculated move you made just to tease him for the barely there kiss he had given you earlier. Jisung whined, trying to chase after your lips as you moved away and you pressed your hand against his chest, pushing him back down onto the bed. Throwing one of your legs over his, you settled yourself over him, lowering down and running your tongue from the base to the tip.

“Oh fuck.” The moan he released went straight through you, your pussy throbbing more at the sound and the taste on your tongue. You were tempted to lower your hips down and rub against his leg, but you held back. While you wanted to get off, right now it was about him and fulfilling your dream in some capacity. You repeated the action a few times, stopping just short of the slit and watched with lidded eyes as more precum oozed out and slowly rolled down the side of his cock. “Babe, thought you were hungry?” It was a mixture of a whine and question, and did nothing except make Jisung sound absolutely wrecked and you hadn’t even done anything. Giggling to yourself, you gripped the base of his dick as you enveloped the head with your mouth.

You sank down slowly, tongue working flicking against any part of the velvety flesh that was filling your mouth. You took your time, stopping when you reached your limit and letting him just rest there, hot and heavy against your tongue. God, you had missed this so much, just being so intimate with Jisung. Fingers carded through your hair, tangling in the strands as Jisung breathed heavily, body tense and vibrating slightly with the way he was trying to stop the tremors coursing through him. “Y/n, fuck. Stop teasing and suck my dick.” You didn’t think it was possible, but Jisung sounded even more wrecked than he had before. Humming lightly around him, pulling a sharp hiss from him, you slowly began bobbing your head. Pulling up, you gave two hungry sucks against the head before sinking back down, tongue pressing and rubbing against the vein on the underside of his cock. It was easy to start a rhythm, spurred on by Jisung’s moans. The faster you moved and the harder you sucked, the louder he got and the wetter you became.

Jisung attempted to lift his legs and plant his feet on the mattress, but was stopped when his shin came in contact with your wet panties. Moaning around him, you rocked your hips down against him, whimpers filling the air as you grinded against him. His cock twitched and throbbed in your mouth, your eyes lifting to watch his face. Jisung had his head thrown back, eyes closed as he got lost in the feeling of your hot mouth around him. Every now and again his hips would twitch and try to lift, but he seemed to restrain himself which you were thankful for. You really weren’t in the mood to choke tonight.

Pulling off until just the head was between your lips, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked  while your hand stroked the rest of his cock. “Shit.” he hissed, back arching off the bed. “Fuck I’m gonna cum.” You moaned around him, hand picking up speed as excitement bubbled up inside you. Your free hand came down, fingers stroking over his balls and it was like you pulled the trigger. Jisung tugged harshly at your hair and you popped off quickly, lips parts as you pressed the head against your tongue. Jisung pulsed and throbbed in your grip as he came, long sticky strings of white coating the inside of your mouth and as you swallowed, you were surprised to find that it didn’t taste like the normally bitter cum you were used to. You made a mental note to thank whichever member you had to for helping to change Jisung’s diet for the better. 

You suckled lightly on the tip, milking the rest of the cum out of his body and when he whimpered at the overstimulation, you finally released him from your grip. Sitting up, you licked your lips clean, smiling down at Jisung’s panting form. “Mmm, thank you for the delicious meal.”

“Pleasures….all mine.” he nearly gasped out, letting out a stuttering sigh as he tried to control his breathing. “Fuck that was amazing, as always.” Weakly, he lifted his arms towards you and you crawled up his body and into his embrace. Snuggling against him, you pressed a gentle kiss to his neck, a content sigh leaving you as you let yourself settle down, arousal slowly fading. Jisung attempted to pay you back, his hands wandering lower, but you stopped him and at his confused look, you simply shook your head.

“Not tonight.”

“Seriously? I get a blowjob and you get nothing?” he asked, confused.

“Um, I got to give a blowjob? It’s all I wanted honestly.” You confessed with a shrug. “Next time though.” You left the sentence open, letting Jisung’s mind supply images of what you could do next time and while laying in the comforting silence of the room, halfway to dream land, you swore you heard Jisung mutter something about trying anal. But that was a conversation for another time.

Tags: @jisungsjheekies​ @starryseung​ @luminouskalopsia​ @runningonkpop​ @clandestine-lixie​ @straysrachaa​ @sauceracha​ @mrbangchannie​ (Tag info here! Come Join!)

[kalaluchi]

chapter 04: Best Friends

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When Marinette was a kid, she’d once heard someone say that having a boyfriend is just like having a best friend, but with added perks.

And while she couldn’t relate with the statement (at the moment), she could see that, in a similar sense, there was a fine line between things you do with someone because they’re your best friend and you’re just that close; and things you do with someone because you like them and want to get closer… and them showing the same interest in doing those things miiight mean they could like you, too.

Marinette was beginning to think she’d been using this fine line as a jump rope these past few weeks.

In theory, she should have no problem doing best-friend-stuff.

Chatting till early in the morning? Daily routine for her and Alya, especially when the latter got her hands on the latest scoop.

Video calls while doing homework? Marinette forgot what it was like to work without the face of her best friend, her face mirroring Marinette’s own tiredness.

Movie nights with the full package: face masks, popcorn, and 5 different types of candy? Every Saturday, starting at 9pm sharp.

But for some reason, when it came to doing those things with Adrien Agreste, she would just… freeze up and start overthinking every little thing. She has no idea why.

(Absolutely a lie. She knows exactly why.)

She was not one to deny her obvious crush on the blond-haired boy. Most times, her day is made by just one smile sent her way. But other times, when she’s actually able to hold a conversation with him (over chat, of course; she could never not stutter if it were face-to-face), it feels… normal. The talks are casual, like they’ve known each other forever. The butterflies in her stomach are quieter than usual, and she can say, with absolute certainty, that the famous model feels nothing special for the simple baker’s daughter, because Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste are destined to be the best of friends and nothing more. (Sadly, in her opinion.)

And then. He goes and surprises her with a, “Hey, are you free Friday night? I was wondering if you wanted to go to the movie theater with me. They’re playing reruns of episodes from that show we were talking about the other week.”

Marinette collapsed on her bed with a groan. She checked the clock on her wall: 6:19pm. She’s supposed to meet Adrien in front of the bakery in a little over half an hour, but she still has no idea what to wear. Curse that beautiful, gorgeous boy. He never told her what the occasion was. Should she wear something casual, like a nice sweater and jeans? Something more dressy, like a cute skirt and flats? She gasps to herself. He doesn’t expect her to be fancy and show up in a cocktail dress and heels, right? He’s a model after all, that might be what he’s used too… what if it’s something even fancier than that-- how can she pull together an outfit like that at the drop of a hat--

You’re spiraling, she chided herself. She was tempted to call her best friend, but she knew what the brunette would say.

“Obviously, dress to impress! The knee-length dress you bought for my birthday party, I can lend you pearl earrings and a necklace, a little bit of lip gloss, and a purse to match. Pair it with flats so you don't look too eager.”

Marinette laughed quietly, imagining Alya giving that whole spiel.

Maybe she could just text Adrien to ask what he’s wearing.

The thought of him replying, “Just a shirt and jeans. This is just a chill movie-with-a-friend date after all. Why, did you think it meant anything more?” was enough to make her chicken out (even though he’d never actually say that), so she decided to just wear a shirt, skirt, sneakers, and the cardigan he made for her.

If he asks, I can just say I always dress like this going out with my friends!

This was going to be a disaster.

.

.

.

“Oh. Wow. You look.” Adrien cleared his throat. “You look very nice, Marinette.”

At 7:05pm, she found him standing outside their bakery, as discussed. She waved shyly as she pulled the door shut, trying to ignore the not-so-subtle spying her parents were trying to from behind the bakery’s counter.

“You look quite nice yourself,” she managed to say. Even though her brain wanted to scream how beautiful he looked in his black polo and jeans. (At least she’d been right to dress half-dressy half-casual.)

“Shall we?” he said jokingly, holding out his arm expectantly. She laughed nervously, and looped her arm through his after a pause..

Best friends definitely link arms as they walk to the theater...right?

“Hm, it’s a little chilly, isn’t it?” she said as they made their way down the street. In truth, though, her cheeks were burning from the close contact.

“Yeah, good thing you wore a cardigan. Should we get popcorn?”

“For sure. Butter at the bottom, in the middle, and on top is the way to go.”

“No way! Cheese is totally better. Whoever thought of putting it on popcorn was brie-lliant.”

Marinette groaned. “That was even cornier than popcorn,” she complained.

“Well, I’m no Swiss master,” Adrien quipped, “sorry if my jokes are full of holes. Is it enough to make you feel bleu?”

There it is again, Marinette thought, as the friendly banter continued until they were in their seats. While she found his puns unusually endearing, the butterflies were quiet and her heart wasn't racing like she’d thought it would be.

Annoyingly, they came right back as she sat back, studying his profile while the show’s theme song played in the background.

Miraculous, the luckiest!

Her heart gave a little squeeze as he mouthed the words, bouncing in his seat excitedly, all his attention on the big screen.

Damn, he’s so cute. The thought flew through her head before she could stop it, and that was when she knew for sure.

The power of love, always so strong!

What started out as a little crush had leveled up into something waaay more, though it was too early -- far too early -- to call it love.

After the reruns, they decided to grab ice cream and sit at one of the park benches before heading back.

“What did you think of that last episode?” Adrien asked, licking the mint gelato on a cone.

Marinette looked down at her own strawberry-flavored one. “I think… the main characters were too dumb. I mean, they just… fit so well, you know? Why prolong getting together?” She grinned at him and pointed the cone in his direction. “The ending made up for it though. They were so berry cute in that last scene.”

Adrien was unable to respond for a second, shocked that Marinette had made a pun.

(She thought she could see a blush starting to form, too, but she told herself it was just the lighting of the park.)

He recovered in a heartbeat, though. “You’re right. They were definitely mint to be.”

“Okay, that was probably the corniest one this entire night,” she giggled, playfully rolling her eyes. (It was actually cute and surprisingly funny, though, and she had to bite her lip to suppress a smile.)

Adrien held a hand to his heart. “I’m offended! That wasn’t very cool of you.”

Marinette frowned, though she knew he was joking. She opened her mouth to protest but the sound of his laugh stopped her. Her retort died in her throat as her heart did a little skip.

There was a pause as she felt the blush spread across her cheeks. It was long enough for Adrien to turn to her, an eyebrow raised, silently wondering about the sudden silence.

For half a second, Marinette considered saying something crazy.

‘You’re cute’? ‘I love how your eyes sparkle when you laugh’?

“Sorry for dissing your pun,” she muttered lamely instead, turning away.

He chuckled lightly and stood. “Let’s head back,” he suggested, smiling.

She simply nodded, thinking of a million things she wants to say.

They made their way back to the bakery silently, breathing in the night air, gazing up at the stars. Once back at her door, Marinette faced Adrien and stuck her hand out for a friendly shake. “Thank you for tonight,” she said, back to her awkward self somewhat.

He smiled, remembering how their second meeting went something like this. He took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he chose to press a kiss to the back of it. “Thank you for tonight,” he echoed. “I had a lot of fun.” He waved, and walked to his car.

He turned back for a final wave, and then entered the back. The car pulled away, leaving Marinette all alone in front of the bakery, still reeling from the kiss.

Marinette wanted to scream. The fine line she’d been jump roping with was now blurred together completely, and she wasn’t sure the butterflies in her stomach would ever go away.

And surprisingly, she found that she was completely okay with that.

previous | next

[kakakakashi]

Hokage’s Office: The Desk II

100 Follower Celebration - Day 6

Kakashi Hatake x Reader || NSFW

Warnings: porn without plot, Kakashi’s filthy mouth, mentions of masturbation, an ungodly amount of run on sentences probably, you guys know the drill

Word count: 2,032

A/N: I’m thinking about tacking a little bonus scene onto this series as kind of an epilogue. It’ll probably be 100 words or less, but I think it would be funny. I guess we’ll see. 

- 

When you glanced up from the printed text in your hands, the clock on the nightstand read 10:15. Kakashi was still working, and you were starting to get impatient. For over an hour, you’d been checking the clock every ten minutes, but you couldn’t help it. Frankly, you were horny.

Even though you’d had plenty of alone time earlier, it didn’t help. You’d made yourself come twice, but your body still wanted more. It simply wasn’t the same as having Kakashi satisfy you. Waiting for him usually wasn’t this bad. After all, if things got bad enough, you could always visit him any time you want. Although, it wasn’t necessarily appropriate to barge into his office and fuck him… Not that you haven’t done it before, but still. You tried to be responsible most of the time.

Now, you thought reading might distract you, but you’d only gotten through three pages in the past hour.

Each time you began a paragraph, your brain would gradually start fantasizing about increasingly filthy situations, and by the time you caught yourself daydreaming, your unfocused gaze had been staring at the same page for who knows how long. Throwing your head back and flopping the book down on your lap, you groaned out in frustration, teeth gritted and fists bunched into the bed sheets beside you. You couldn’t take it.

You didn’t even bother to put your book back in it’s place, simply tossing it on the nightstand haphazardly before kicking the covers off of your lower half. The cool night air met your bare legs, covered only by the large shirt that fell at your thighs. Fuck this.

Quickly grabbing your dressing gown and slipping the sleeves onto your shoulders, you had an idea. Your fingers hooked in th band of your panties from under your shirt, and you slid the little fabric down your legs, stepping out of the pair and tossing them in your hamper. Once you drew the tie around your waist, you exited your front door and began the quick trek to the Hokage’s office. By the time you got to the entrance to the large building, you hadn’t seen a single soul. Inside wasn’t any better. Each step towards Kakashi’s office further proved that you two were completely alone. The environment rivaled that of a sleepy ghost town. Grateful didn’t even begin to describe how you felt knowing that you could get away with your little stunt.

You didn’t even bother to knock on the Hokage’s door, knowing that Kakashi had already sensed your chakra approaching. Opening the door, you saw his eyes dart up before returning to the paperwork he was reviewing. His jonin vest had been discarded in favor of his simple black shirt and pants. The boredom and exhaustion shone on his face like clown paint over his mask.

“Yo,” you mumbled, leaning against the door frame with a slight smile on your lips.

Kakashi had finished whatever he was reading, and he placed the document on his desk. “What’re you doing here? It’s late.” He tilted his head to the side, and you could see his eyes crinkle with a tired yet fond smile beneath his mask. It made your entire being soften to see such a lovely grin. “You should be at home in bed.”

Even though he wanted you to take care of yourself, Kakashi couldn’t deny what a sight for sore eyes you were. Amidst the mountains of paperwork he was stuck with, you were his saving grace. You took the opportunity to enter his office, allowing the door to fall shut behind you while you strolled around his desk to lean against the edge diagonal of him. “Missed you,” you confessed, “Also, it’s been a while, and I kind of needed a quick pick me up since I couldn’t sleep.”

Kakashi’s smile tugged into a smirk, a twinkle of something sparking in his one visible dark eye. “You know,” his eyes raked up and down your frame, his voice sweeter than honey, “I really could go for a little pick me up too after the day I’ve had.”

Lifting his body from his chair, Kakashi stepped in front of you, his gloved hands resting on your hips while his lidded gaze darted between your lips and your hazy eyes. He tugged his mask from below his chin until the material fell slack around his neck, and he leaned in to press his lips against yours.

The kiss was slow, but searing. Kakashi tilted his head to deepen the embrace, leaving you gasping at the sensation of his body pressing into yours. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips to further tease you. Meanwhile, his fingertips skillfully untied your robe. His fingers worked so subtly you didn’t even notice what he was doing until the fabric fell slack around your body.

You wrapped your arms around Kakashi’s neck, threading your fingers into his wild hair, so you could explore his mouth further in your battle for control. You could already feel your heart racing from the way his mouth worked against yours, and when his fingertips brushed upwards across the skin of your outer thighs, you gasped again. Not even bothering to break the kiss, Kakashi smirked against your lips before playfully nipping your lower lip and pressing you further against his desk with his own hips.

Kakashi retreated from the embrace by only a centimetre, his lidded and blown eye meeting yours. You didn’t even have to ask him to know what he wanted you to do, so you wiggled until you were sitting on the edge of the desk, legs spread just enough so Kakashi was slotted between them, his hips grinding into yours. The friction of his pants against your bare cunt made you melt. The vibrating electricity shooting down your spine made you whimper against his kiss.

Now, one of his hands cradled you by the small of your back while he laid you down, your ankles locking around his hips to better keep your balance until Kakashi was hovering over you on his desk. You wondered for a second if he knew, but almost reading your mind, Kakashi’s palms caressed up your thighs and over your hips. His tongue darted out to wet his lips at the sight of his confirmed theory before his gaze met your smirk.

“No panties?” All you did was bite your lip and grind your hips against the growing tent in his pants, coercing a soft moan from him. “God, and you’re already soaked.”

One of your palms traced down the dark shirt covering his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the cotton fabric. The other encouraging him to rest his weight on his elbow beside your head. Once your other hand got down to his pants, you shifted so you could undo the hem and pull his erection from his pants and underwear.

“I told you,” you jokingly teased him, “I missed you and needed a pick me up.”

Kakashi’s head rolled back while you began to stroke his length slowly, but you noted the slight smile tugging at his lips. A drop of arousal gathered at his tip the more you worked him in your fist. His words came out in soft pants. “So, you were horny and thinking about me?”

His hips began meeting your pace, and you couldn’t resist the temptation to stop. Instead leading his tip towards your entrance until he caught inside you. A filthy moan poured from Kakashi’s mouth, and a simultaneous gasp tore through yours at the sensation.

“I never said that, but if I did, I’d say that I’ve been thinking of you all day. I even toughed myself thinking about how good you fuck me, but no matter how many times I made myself cum with my fingers, I still wasn’t satisfied because it wasn’t you.”

That was all it took. Kakashi thrust himself deep inside you with an animalistic buck of his hips, filling your pussy inch by agonizingly beautiful inch. You cried out at the sensation of him stretching you out over every minuscule ridge of his cock. When he finally bottomed out, he gave you both a second to adjust while you gripped onto Kakashi’s shirt. He let out a huff of laughter before his lips found your jaw. He planted kisses up the skin until he was nipping at your earlobe, causing your back to arch into his chest.

“What a naughty little thing, thinking about your Hokage like that.” Kakashi chuckled before his hips withdrew, leaving you empty for just a moment before he thrust himself deep inside you until his hips ground against your clit, making you moan out his name.

Again his hips snapped into yours, each thrust increasing in speed until you could feel the desk scraping against the floor in protest each time Kakashi’s cock split you open. With each motion, his skin slapped against yours, fucking you so deep, all you could do was hold on for the ride.

You moaned out his name again, and he was quick to grunt in reply, “Fuck. I love it when you moan my name like that. Say it again.”

“Kakashi!” you moaned out, hips bucking to meet his as best as they could with what leverage you could manage from beneath him. The nerves in your core were sparking with electricity each time Kakashi sheathed himself inside you so deep you could feel his balls smacking against your ass. Between his fingers gripping onto your thighs for  dear life and his grunts muffled only by him kissing at your neck made the rubber inside your body begin to give.

“Ah! Harder, Kakashi! Please!” you must’ve sounded desperate because Kakashi obliged without any hesitation, the desk now rocking with the force of his hips, and all you could do was cry out and cling to him while you squirmed in pleasure, trying to get him as deep inside you as possible. With each slam of his hips into yours you could feel the warmth in your stomach grow unbearably hotter, he was fucking you so good, and when you arched your back just a little more, your head flew back while you screamed in ecstasy.

“Fuck, Kakashi! Right there!”

Kakashi smirked when he drew away from your neck. “Fuck, you like that don’t you? That’s right, say my name.”

“Kakashi!”

With each of his thrusts, you were sent hurtling towards your orgasm, weightless pleasure consuming you until your thoughts became incoherent. The only thing you could think of was how good Kakashi felt buried deep inside you like he was made to screw your brains out better than anyone on earth.

“Cum for me. Cum all over my cock, just like how you’ve been dreaming of,” Kakashi’s voice was sinful with how he teased you. He sounded like the devil himself, and while he continued whispering filthy things in your ear, you felt the cord inside you snap, leaving your body a shuddering mess while your voice brokenly cried out in sheer pleasure. Kakashi’s hips continued canting against yours while he fucked you through your orgasm, only stuttering when he was close, and finally thrusting a few times while he came deep inside you, his cum shooting streaks of white, making your eyes roll while your body vibrated with unbearable bliss.

When the both of you came down from your blinding highs, Kakashi was leaning against you as you gently stroked his back. Your entire being throbbed in satisfaction until Kakashi pulled out of you and stood up to grab some tissues to clean the two of you up. You finally felt sated with his cum dripping out of you.

Once he tucked himself back into his pants, he glanced at his desk before his eyes met yours again. “C’mon, we’re going home. This paperwork can wait until tomorrow. I’m definitely not done with you yet.”

You laughed to yourself at his antics before you stood up on wobbly legs only for him to catch you in his arms and begin guiding you out of his office and back home.  

[jensungf]

𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐒 ☁ 𝐩.𝐣𝐬

summary: park jisung was supposed to be more than a passing cloud, than a fleeting moment. 

↳ (adj) describing something that doesn’t last as long as you’d like.

pairing: reader + park jisung genre: high school!au, angst word count: 2.4k warnings: language

author’s note: this was supposed to be a blurb but it kind of turned into a really long drabble or oneshot, whatever you wanna call it hehe. it’s been about two or three years since i last written something so i’m quite rusty but please enjoy and let me know what you think!

“hey jisung, we’re still on for tonight right?” you chirped cheerily, not bothering to hide the cheeky smile adorning your face. you had been looking forward to this all week, and it was really hard not to show it. you skipped over to his side of the room, taking a seat besides him. 

you had been harboring a crush on your friend for god-knows how long (about a year actually) and had jokingly suggested that he owed you a movie date days ago during your weekly study session with him. to your pleasant surprise, he had agreed without any hesitation, and you had taken that as a sign that maybe — just maybe, he saw you as more than just a friend. maybe.

you frowned when you realized you hadn’t gotten a response and looked up to see jisung’s fluffy brown hair engrossed in his video game on his tablet. “hey! jisung!” you called out again across the desk. 

no reaction. 

you rolled your eyes and sighed before grabbing a pencil and lightly throwing it to get his attention. it hit his shoulder, causing him to finally glance up. he scowled and barked out a “what do you want?” before returning his concentration on his game.

“woah, sorry...” you felt awkward now realizing how annoyed he was. “i just wanted to ask if we were still on for tonight.”

he looked up again, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “what’s tonight?” 

before you even realize it, a deep scowl marred your face. how could he forget? you had been mentioning it all week now.

“you know, the movie...? the one you promised we’d watch together?” you asked eagerly, hoping his brain would get off of whatever game he was playing and return back to reality.

“oh. that.” his tone was indifferent and you couldn’t help but tense up in annoyance. he really forgot? “yeah, sure...” before quietly mumbling, “if i’m free.” 

you wanted to scoff at his dryness, but chose to be considerate and give him the benefit of the doubt. maybe he just wasn’t having a good day and he wanted to be left alone for now. maybe if you gave him some space he’d be in a better mood tonight. hopefully, you thought.

“i’m going to go, but i’ll text you, ‘kay?” you tried your best to smile despite the butterflies swirling in your stomach (the bad ones, the ones that looked pretty but were actually poisonous), but jisung doesn’t even bother to lift his head from the screen before muttering something that sounded vaguely like a bye. you sigh, and turn on your heel quickly. 

hopefully all would go well tonight.

you spoke too soon.

 ☁ 

you had texted jisung an hour or two before the designated time you both were supposed to meet each other at the movie theater, asking if he was free later to confirm that your plans and he had simply responded with “probably.” you would be lying to say that his offhandedness about this entire situation wasn’t bothering you at all but you had been so excited for this opportunity to finally spend some quality time with him that you were willing to overlook his odd behavior. 

you had decided to leave the house about thirty minutes before you were supposed to be at the movie theater, and quickly took your phone out to text him.

to: pwark jwisung♥︎ [6:04pm]

➤  hey i’m about to leave the house!  ➤ don’t forget to bring an umbrella. it looks kind of rainy outside

you peered outside the window, looking at the gloomy skies. however, you were determined that nothing was going to ruin tonight for you, not even some threatening grey clouds. by the time you arrived, you checked your phone again. you bit your lip in exasperation to see no notifications pop up, unlocking your phone only to see that jisung hadn’t even read your messages. maybe he was busy and simply saw it without opening the chat.

obviously, jisung wasn’t the most punctual person in the world, but you had specifically told him to come earlier than you days ago for that very matter. the weather outside seemed to be an omen, but you remained adamant. no stormy weather was going to ruin your time as long as you had jisung by your side. he was going to be here soon and you would have a good time, like you had hoped. 

to: pwark jwisung♥︎ [6:21pm]

➤  im here! are you here yet or are you on your way?

[6:30pm]

➤ ji?

you decided after nervously waiting outside the doors, watching the skies slowly get darker and darker (as if it was a sign of impending doom), that maybe it would be a good to finally call him. you had scrolled on your social media to pass time, and saw he was online. maybe something had happened?  

you tapped on your phone, letting the call ring only to wait for an automated voicemail of “hey it’s jisung, i’m probably busy rig— hey! jaemin! give me my phone back! oh my god, stop it, i’m trying to record a voicema—“

you felt your chest constrict as you took in a deep breath and exhaled shakily. there’s no way he forgot... right? you had just talked to him today about it. maybe his phone died or he was playing another silly prank on you and hiding somewhere. 

[6:43pm]

➤ hey idiot responddddd ➤ if this is some funny prank, come out! you win :(  

[6:57pm]

➤ come on ji, im actually going to get mad if you don’t show up soon >:( ➤ you were just on instagram like 15 minutes ago...? is something wrong? please let me know.

the number of strangers who passed by you who eyed you curiously increased, and you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with anxiety. you hated waiting alone, especially in public. it was nerve wracking and jisung knew it. your feelings of doubt and unease were creeping up behind you. maybe this was all just a bad nightmare and you’d wake up from it soon. 

the skies began to drizzle as you stood beneath the awning of the movie theater. your body was clammy and shivering. it was cold and you had forgotten your jacket and umbrella, despite even reminding jisung to bring himself an umbrella. just your luck.

you glanced at the clock ticking by, and you knew the showing of the movie had started long ago. however there was another showtime, so you tried your best not to fret. if he showed up soon, you could still watch the movie. if not, any other movie would’ve been okay with you. where is he? why isn’t he showing up?

you decide after waiting for almost 45 minutes that you should give him another call. it went straight to voicemail again. you felt tears finally begin to prickle in your eyes as you angrily typed out a message to him.

[7:12pm]

➤ jisung... if you were busy you could’ve just told me.  ➤ this really isn’t a funny joke at all. i’m actually pretty upset.  ➤ the last showtime is in 15 minutes, please text or call back.

frustration and betrayal overcame your body as you began trembling, trying your best to hold in your tears. the number of people entering had diminished, but you refused to let yourself cry in public. this was already humiliating enough as it was.

you decided as a last resort to call one of his friends, and you scrolled through your contacts before dialing na jaemin’s number. 

after a few rings, he picked up to your great surprise.

“hey (y/n)! what’s up?” 

“um, hey.. i-i was just wondering, if... jisung was with you by any chance...?”

you heard some shuffling around before he spoke up again. “uh yeah, he is actually. is something wrong...? you don’t sound okay.”

you bit your lip, holding in a sigh of relief because jisung was okay and alive before realizing that your tears were about to burst. you swallowed your tears and let out another shaky breath before answering.

“c-can i just talk to jisung please? he hasn’t been picking up my calls.” you sniffled, voice cracking as you gripped your phone tightly. 

jaemin frowned on the other end of the call before, managing to sense your urgency and emotion in your voice. “okay, give me a second,“  as he went to find the younger boy. 

“hey jisung, (y/n)‘s on the phone,” you could some hear yelling in the back before you heard some more shuffling and screaming. jaemin tried to cover his phone’s mic but you managed to pick up bits of the conversation anyways.

“what is it jaemin? i’m in the middle of a game right now,” jisung’s deep voice spoke in an irked tone. you would recognize his voice anywhere — what you once deemed to be soothing no longer brought the sense of comfort you needed right now.

“jisung, she called me saying ... hadn’t been picking up ... calls! tell hyuck.. play for you and talk ... now!” you could hear some groaning through the crackly audio, before jisung’s voice piped up on the line.

“um, hey (y/n) what’s up? why’d you call me... i’m kinda busy right now.”

your lips quivered along, feeling your heart fall before the dam actually broke. you croaked out, “park jisung.. don’t you remember what tonight was? i’ve been waiting for an hour and a half now! i thought you were dying or something.” 

jisung’s eyes widened before he sighed, “uh, shoot sorry. i’m busy with the boys right now and kinda forgot.” your tears dripped down your face as the raining outside ironically began to pour down harder at that very moment. you almost dropped your phone in shock. that was his reason for not making it? you felt as if your heart was being crushed, suffocated by jisung’s hands. how could he be so.. callous? 

“jisung, we’ve talked about this all week and you promised! i asked you this morning, and afternoon and i even texted you!” sobs began to wrack through your body as you could no longer contain it anymore. you tried to wipe the tears away as quickly as you could, not wanting anyone to witness your meltdown, yet to no avail. “how could you forget?”

jisung rolled his eyes and sighed. he didn’t know why you were just attacking him like this and interrupting him in the middle of a game. he retorted with irritation piercing his voice, “look (y/n), i don’t know why you’re being so dramatic but like it’s not that big of a deal. it’s just another dumb movie anyways, and i didn’t even really think these were definite plans. i said probably and things change, you know that.”

embarrassment flushed through your body, before anger replaced it. 

you swallowed harshly, feeling all self-restraint leave your body, all your anger and bitterness clouding your thoughts leaving you dizzy and breathless. “i can’t believe you... i waited for you because i thought.. that you were excited for this chance too.”

“my friends always come first, you know that! i thought i made that perfectly clear so why are you so upset?” jisung barked out, clenching his fists. he knew he was wrong but he was stubborn and irritated, wanting nothing more but to go back and claim his victory instead of wasting his time arguing with you.

you couldn’t believe your ears, your heart shattering as you took in every word he was saying. was this the same park jisung you knew and fell in love with? how could it be? you were an idiot for believing he actually liked you back, that you had a chance with him. he had always seemed untouchable, and now you were seeing his true colors. this clearly didn’t mean as much to him as it did to you and you had gotten your answer. 

“i have every right to be upset! you made a promise and you broke it. you left me hanging and blew me off, for what? games? there’s more to life than just playing video games with your friends jisung!” you bit your tongue, before continuing, your emotions blowing through the roof as they overtook your body. 

“i’m not just some girl you decided to blow off because you didn’t know. i never expected you to choose between me or your friends because i’m also your friend too. i thought we were friends but this shows how much you really care about our friendship. i waited here for you. i don’t want your bullshit excuse anymore, you can go play whatever games you want as long as they’re not with me. i’m not your toy jisung or a game, and you can’t win me like this. have a nice life.”

“wait (y/n)—“ you ended the call hastily,  not wanting to hear another word come out of his mouth. 

you shut your eyes as you tightly to hold in the tears. if your whole world had been torn away to unveil a big, fat ugly lie in the end. this wasn’t the park jisung you knew. this was park jisung, the boy who you had fallen utterly and hopelessly for. the boy who made your heart flutter with his shameless laugh,  who spent hours awake at ungodly hours of night watching anime with you when no one else would. who would make fun of you but spend hours trying to teach you play video games or take you out to eat ice cream whenever he knew you were feeling down.who managed to lift up your mood with his incessant teasing that you grew to learn was just his way of caring, so effortlessly.

how could you be so foolish to work yourself up just to be devastated in the very end? you wished for this to be a nightmare. your hopes of fulfilling your dream date with the boy you had been pining after for the last year or so had been had been crushed. you looked up into the drizzling rain and grey clouds wondering where you had gone wrong. the clouds passed by fleetingly. you could’t help but laugh at how cliché this was. this was how you would remember your heartbreak, under a grey sky full of rain. and there was nothing else you could do about it.

he was nothing but a fleeting cloud passing by in your life.

+ bonus blurb!

+ the sequel!

[tinycaprisun]

a song about it raining somewhere else

title: a song about it raining somewhere else characters: chuck taylor x trent beretta word count: 3822 part: 1/1 warnings: mild cursing, and like that’s kinda it? maybe mild angst? but also i’m a baby and it becomes fluff by the end? a/n: howdy, this is not another i’m back i’m back piece as much as it honestly is. no, see this time- this is actually a gift! 2 days ago was @trentjinshi’s birthday and i wanted to write him something! so i sat down for like 6 hours with my goopy goblin gay brain and spit out this obvious magnum opus. so, like, don’t hate it please. also hugest happy birthday to emil again!! yeehaw... i’ve technically already sent this to u

You know, of all days to have the soul crushing realization that you’ve secretly been in love with your best friend, Trent should have expected it to happen on Valentine’s Day.

The man had garbage luck anyways, and good things seemingly never happened to him. So when Chuck animatedly told him he had a date that night with some girl, Trent’s heart shouldn’t have blown apart like he had been shot. Sure, he pretended to be supportive of his buddy, returning his radiant smile despite the effect never reaching his eyes, And yeah, he wished him all the best, telling the taller man he hoped it went well.

But did Trent mean any of that? Fuck no! He was dying on the inside, mourning the loss of a relationship and love he didn’t even know he wanted! Perhaps he should have considered himself lucky that he didn’t start bawling his eyes out on the spot. The New Yorker had a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve, so the crying really was not out of the question at that moment. But he contained his feelings somehow, moving on through the rest of that afternoon like he was trudging through a snowstorm. Slow, cold, and slowly dying from the inside out.

So that led him here, sitting in his car as the rain started to come down, refusing to turn the damn thing on. He didn’t want to go back to his hotel room. Because if he did, it would remind him of the obvious. He went home alone tonight.

Chuck wasn’t alone. His friend had a probably beautiful person with a perfect personality sitting across from him at a fancy restaurant. A person who wasn’t him. Why couldn’t Trent be his perfect date? He would laugh at his jokes, softly hold his hand as they walked in from the parking lot, pull his chair out for him, admire him like he was the sun-

A harsh banging came from his left, rhythmically tapping against the glass of his car window in time with the rain drops. Trent’s head jerked up from where it had defeatedly slumped against the steering wheel to see who was trying to get his attention.

It was a security guard, holding an umbrella in one hand and wavering him off with another, politely telling him to leave the premises as the arena building they were at was closing. To be honest, getting a ticket from not leaving and instead rotting in that parking lot forever sounded like a far better time than he was having. But, he didn’t have a choice. Story of his life.

Trent started up his car, quickly leaving off into the vast night with only his thoughts to keep him company. And that was rapidly becoming annoying. The singular thing on his mind was one person, and how all this time, his feelings were so obvious. Every time he even glanced in his friend’s direction his heart rate would spike. Before now, he had chalked that up to coincidence or - considering it was Trent and how his body loved to torture him - underlying health conditions. Evidently, it was neither of those things.

One would think he would catch on to his festering crush sooner; considering he thought the entire world of Chuck and whenever he had to go more than a few days without seeing him, he would get a weird sense of longing to be back in his presence, but nothing ever wanted to work out that way. Life thought it would be much funnier if Trent felt like he was being ripped apart at the seams by a simple sentence.

Between the still processing of what it even meant to have a crush on your best friend, and knowing that right now he was out with some other person having the time of his life, Trent was not feeling great as he drove down the freeway. Grumbling under his breath, he flicked the radio on to fill the car with something other than his problems. A song the brunette had never heard before crackled to life, being about part of the way through.

By the time we get there, everybody will be drunk The chairs will be on tables and the band will be unplugged We're gonna look real good, but we're gonna look real rude I'm sorry I'm not sorry that I'm-

Fucking perfect! The last person to mess with the radio in Trent’s car was Chuck, and bastard left it on one of his stupid country stations. Trent didn’t even like country music! That didn’t stop him, however, from a few days ago when they were driving from city to city and let Chuck put on whatever he liked, even if it was something he was going to hate. He would make tiny sacrifices like that all the time for his partner, because he knew it would earn him one of those sunlit smiles. Trent really would do anything to make Chuck happy, and had been since they met.

Late to the party with you Oh, who needs confetti? We're already falling into the groove And who needs a crowd when you're happy at a party for two? The world can wait 'Cause I'm never late to the party if I'm late to the party with you

It... It was a love song?

“Throw me off a fucking bridge.” Trent mumbled to himself as he exited an off ramp. Seriously, who out there was tormenting him and making him have possibly the worst day ever? What omnipotent being did he piss off? He thought he was an alright dude, not getting into other people’s business and sort of keeping to himself. Most days he made an attempt to be somewhat nice to others and never did any of that vile or cruel shit. And yet, he was cursed to drive home while listening to a love song in a genre that he hated, and only helped to remind him more of his best friend.

Let's promise when we get in that we'll try to get right out Fake a couple conversations, make the necessary rounds These kinda things just turn into "Who's leaving here with who?" But I just want 'em all to see me come in late to the party with you

Wasn’t that a funny line. Wanting others to see the person you’re with because of how much you loved them? Trent understood that. Whenever he would go anywhere with Chuck, he would always want people to know he was there with him- whether he realized it or not.

He could talk for hours about him. It could be the simple telling of a funny story, or gushing about how good he was in the ring. Or how great of a friend he was. That made Trent wonder about what Chuck would be like if they were together. His mind wandered, dreaming up scenarios and infinite possibilities as he pulled into his hotel’s parking garage.

The musing didn’t stop when he killed the engine, happily ending that fucking song that was starting to piss him off with how cute it was. Trent pushed himself out of the car, gathering his singular bag from the trunk and wandering inside through the rain. Which, if anyone was curious, was even worse than it was when he left. It was coming down in buckets now, being slung into the New Yorker’s face by the wind.

Checking in was easy enough, having the briefest of conversations with the man at the desk who happened to have a thick southern accent.

Chuck had an accent, but only when he drank a lot. It took about 3 and a half beers for it to come out, but by that point he didn’t care all that much to hide it. He wouldn’t be trashed, as he was a pretty solid drinker and had made putting strong shit back a hobby over the last few years. Trent knew exactly how it sounded, though. A smooth Kentucky accent that always caused him to punctuate the last word of his sentences and pronounce certain things differently. Never anything like “y’all” or something southern like that, after all Chuck wasn’t that dime store cowboy they worked with.

The thing Trent remembered the most about Chuck’s accent was how he said his name. He would draw it out, almost like he was whining, except it was low in his voice and always accompanied by a wide grin. One that’s toothy like Cheshire Cat, and annoyingly sweet like bubblegum. Trent idly wondered if he tasted like bubblegum too, but the thought turned vivid fantasy was interrupted for a moment by the elevator reaching his floor.

The brunette slowly approached his room, still partially entranced by the ideas he had created in his mind as he unlocked his door and slipped in. From there, it felt like he wasn’t even alive anymore. Not in a morbid sense, but as in he wasn’t participating in the concept of reality at that moment. Trent was so disconnected from his actions, it was almost as though he was outside of his body and looking in from somewhere else. So much so, that when he snapped out of his revere from his phone buzzing, he was lying in bed wearing only his boxers.

Not that what was on his phone was of any importance to him. All Trent saw were notifications for things he didn’t care about, the only thing sticking out was a short text from Orange sending him more condolences over his current “issue”. Damn, he was acting like someone had died, not his friend’s heart being broken. Trent didn’t bother responding, tossing the device back on the bedside table and rolling over to face away from it.

The alarm clock on the other stand read “10:17 p.m.”, blinking at him like the piece of shit was broken. It also only now occurred to Trent that he had never turned the lights on while he was basically astral projecting. So he was bathed in darkness, with the only illumination being that digital clock and the street lights below outside the window.

Was he going to fall asleep at a respectable time? Because deep in his bones he could feel the shroud of tiredness creeping through him from all of the emotional energy he drained today. And with that, Trent grabbed one of the unused pillows and wrapped himself around it, cuddling it tightly and not bothering to get under the bed covers.

Maybe if he tried hard enough, Trent could pretend the pillow was something else. --

Who in the hell was knocking at his door at - the New Yorker stopped his angry brain tirade to peek at the clock again - 11:53 at night? He had only gotten to sleep an hour and it was cut short by who knew what. If this was Orange coming to tell him he had broken another hotel microwave by “forgetting to take the metal spoon out of his mac and cheese”, Trent was going to fucking kill him.

Getting up from where he lay, Trent stumbled blearily across the room to the door. In those few seconds, it processed with him that his hair must have come untied while he was sleeping because it was messily draped around his shoulders. Among that, he was still only dressed in boxers, riding rather low on his hips. Maybe he had a restless sleep even though it was quick?

He didn’t care what he looked like though as he slowly pulled the door open with a yawn and blinked from the harsh light flooding in from the hallway. Trent prepared to open his mouth and berate his shorter friend when he heard a sniffle come from in front of him.

Chuck was standing on the other side of the doorway, soaking wet from the rain. By the look on his face, it seemed as though he had been crying as well, with red eyes and a running nose. His eyes didn’t meet Trent’s as he all but whispered, “H-hey, man.”

Did the longer haired brunette care that his friend was ice cold and drenched from head to toe? No. That was why without words, he dragged his friend into the room and hugged him tightly, letting the hotel door slip closed on its own. Chuck didn’t need to be told twice to hug back, nearly crushing Trent from the strength of his shaking arms.

They stayed like that for a good while, with Trent rubbing soothing circles into his back and letting him rest his head on his shoulder when he began to weep again. That was before he slowly drew back, silently taking Chuck’s hand and guiding him to his bed so he could sit. Trent grabbed the comforter and wrapped it around his friend, figuring he could just use a blanket later when he needed to sleep.

“I... didn’t even tell you- what’s wrong..?” murmured the Kentuckian, slouching in on himself and bringing his knees up so they were closer to his chest. He must have been really cold. Trent paused for a moment, looking with a pained yet sympathetic smile.

“Don’t need to. You’re upset, and I gotta fix that.” He wasn’t sure who hurt him, or even what, but just let it be known he was going to destroy whatever it was.

“Well, uh, t-thank you?”

“Yeah, dude. I-” Love you. “Care about you. You’re my friend and shit. Hurts to see you cry.” With that, Trent carefully maneuvered around Chuck and hopped off the bed to go rifle through his clothes for something dry he could wear. And- probably some pants for himself. When he first opened the door, he couldn’t help but notice Chuck gave him the slightest look up and down, with his cheeks going red afterwards. Trent assumed it was only because he was cold, and the warmth from his bedroom had fucked with his internal body temperature.

While digging through his bags trying to find some of the clothes he always packed for his friend - and if it were any other day than today, Trent would have told you it was because he was just being a nice guy. He knew better than that now. - Chuck began to talk again. “Date ditched me...”

“They didn’t show up?”

Chuck sighed. “No, she did. But- when her ex came around... She would’a rather been with him.”

Trent grabbed the extra clothes and stood, turning around to face Chuck who was staring off into the corner. Considering how already destroyed his heart already was from earlier, he was a bit surprised it still had a few more pieces that could shatter at this sight. Coming back over, he set the pile to one side of him, then sat back down on the other. “Chuck...”

“I don’t know what I expected? Every girl, or hell- every guy, I’ve ever tried to date has never worked out for me. I don’t get it.” Oh, Trent should not have been so happy to hear those words. Well, he wasn’t happy to hear most of them, and was hurting for his friend, but two of them in particular stuck out to him like a sore thumb. Every guy. That meant Chuck had been on dates with men. That meant, even though it was fucked up to think about this at the moment, that Trent still had a chance.

“You just haven’t found the right one, man. None of those assholes from before deserve you anyways.” Chuck brought his gaze back over to Trent, eyes glassy and expression- disbelieving. His hair was matted to his head, still wet in some places, but mostly stuck in small spots to his forehead. Everything else about him was still about the same caliber as that, slowly drying and clinging to parts of his body that weren’t being disrupted by the comforter.

“Or maybe I didn’t deserve them...” Something- came over Trent then. There wasn’t a word for the mix of emotions he felt upon hearing that. But what he could feel were his hands taking either side of his best friend’s face and holding his head up to where he would look him in the eyes.

“That’s not true, you and I both know that. Anyone in the world would be lucky to have you.”

Chuck honest to god laughed at that and tilted his head. “Name one person.”

Fuck. For all intents and purposes, the answer he desperately wanted to give was ‘Me’, but that never came out of his mouth. Instead, it was like Trent was suspended in fear, unable to say what he wanted for the thought of being rejected. Or somehow even worse, him thinking it was a joke and getting upset with him. So, Trent said nothing, trying to think of a different response that would be true, but didn’t give himself away.

That was the nail in the coffin, though. Chuck took his silence as an answer, unable to provide a single person who could possibly want to be with him. The other man shook Trent’s hands away from his face, hurt welling up in his eyes with a grimace as he moved to grab the clothes that were gotten for him.

“See,” Chuck hobbled to a standing position, holding the clean garments close to his sodden chest like it was going to protect him from the pain he was feeling. Trent, just say something, anything, he yelled to himself whilst watching Chuck shuffle over to the bathroom and pull the door open. He flicked his eyes down to the floor for a moment before coming back up and locking onto Trent’s. “No one could ever love me...”

“Chuck-” Trent was too late, Chuck had already disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. And God damn it, his stomach had sunk to the depth of his being, twisting and turning like he was going to be sick. He should have said something. Even if it meant ruining the only thing he really had left to care about. There was his job, his other friends, his family and that; and while they meant a lot to him as well, he truly believed in that moment, and probably for some while now, that Chuck was his world.

As goofy and kind of bullshit as it was to hear, that’s what he felt like. That this guy he’s known for a good chunk of his life was his sun, moon, and every star in the sky. And Trent knew he’s never felt that way about another person. He knew that no other person on this Earth - or fuck, any other planet - could beam at him when they pull an upset and win a match together like he could. No one else made his chest feel warm whenever they complimented him quite the same way that Chuck did. There wasn’t a soul who had the same giggle, the wit, the determination, the personality- fucking any of it. No one had quite what his best friend had, and that was why he loved him.

Trent had no idea how long Chuck was going to be in there, or if he was ever going to come out. Knowing him, he could stay in there all night, not wanting to face the world again- let alone his friend. Even still, he got up from where he was and placed himself a few paces away from his bathroom door. Within his head, he hyped himself up, vowing that no matter if he got scared or felt like everything was going to go wrong, the New Yorker was going to tell him the truth.

Approximately 4 minutes later - if you asked Trent it felt like 10 years - Chuck finally emerged from his hiding place, dressed in some of his friend’s clothes and with shockingly drier hair. Not sure why he was so surprised that he had run a towel through it or something, but that didn’t matter. The taller man seemed confused as to why Trent was standing at the door, but before he could ask what was happening, Trent said, “I do.”

Chuck squinted at him with a, “What?” but it came out choked off and shaky, like he wasn’t prepared to speak.

“You said no one could ever love you, and that’s not true. Because I love you,” He wanted to protest, but now that Trent was talking, he couldn’t stop. “And I didn’t realize it until today, but I seriously am so in love with you that I don’t think I could picture my life without you. You mean everything to me and I would do anything for you just to see your beautiful smile or hear you say my name. And I know it sounds like I’m lying and that I’m trying to make you feel better, but I’m not. If I think about it, I feel like I’ve loved you forever but never realized it, and I wish I could have known sooner. Because you need to know that you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I would be the luckiest guy in the world to even have a chance with you-”

“Trent-”

“I love the way you purposefully send me a string of those stupid emojis over text because you know it annoys me. I love how you can make anyone feel better with just one smile and your passion for loving others. I love how much you love animals and how every dog you see, you consider kidnapping-'' Trent had become so caught up in his declaration that he hadn’t noticed his friend had moved from in front of him and Chuck’s lips were on his.

Before he could even do anything; not even get a gasp at the sudden action, Chuck was already pulling away, breathing as if he had just run a mile. His face was bright red and his hands were holding either of Trent’s arms as he searched his face for a reaction. Or anything really.

“I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” It felt as though Trent was living in one of those shitty romantic comedies he secretly liked to watch, because he was the one who cut Chuck off while speaking with an somehow even more desperate kiss. He felt him respond almost instant, bringing one of his hands up to Trent’s face to cup it gently as his own arms latched cautiously onto Chuck’s hips. And that was where they stayed, for who knew how long, but every second of it was exactly where they wanted to be.

You know, of all days to have the life-changing realization that you’re secretly in love with your best friend, Trent - and Chuck for that matter - hadn’t expected it to happen on (the day after) Valentine’s Day.

[myelocin]

REQ #6, #7, & #8 | Stories in Passing

synopsis:

Req #6 | @hoshino-a​ : The stranger always standing across your platform never failed to leave you both amused and irritated all at once. What you didn’t expect, was to actually come to stand face to face with him.

Req #7 | @souheii​ : Doritos, capri suns, and midnight talks with a stranger at a half empty grocery store parking lot wasn’t a common occurrence, but you suppose not all bad either.

Req #8 | Linette : Your spontaneous trip to the nearby 7/11 didn’t usually end up with conversations with a monochrome-haired man with golden eyes shared under a starless sky with strawberry ice cream, but perhaps there’s a first for everything. 

 characters: Miya Atsumu, Iwaizumi Hajime, Bokuto Koutarou

#6 Miya Atsumu | For Lena | Platform 2, Ginza Line, Tokyo

He wasn’t much of a stranger to you at this point considering how you’ve filed him in your brain as the “fake blonde bitch who thinks train schedules are a competition,” for the past week or so.

Jumping into a new schedule meant that you had to take an earlier train than usual to the busier side of town to clock in at work on time.

What’s interesting on your new schedule, though, is the guy you always see standing at the platform opposite of yours across the train tracks. To be fair, he was pretty good looking, and you would be a liar if you didn’t admit that. Side swept bleach blonde hair, a dark undercut, prominent brows and a fairly acceptable fashion sense. Save for the checkered fanny pack he always wears though; you figure he could do better than that.

Then again, to each their own.

He was there every day and stopped right across you every time so you figured the two of you must be running on a similar schedule. That wasn’t much of a problem considering the fact that you’ve known yourself to be rather observant and by the third day already could pick out a few familiar faces in the morning crowd.

What was the problem though, was the stranger who always managed to stand across you on the opposite platform made it seem like his lifelong mission was to smirk at you every time his train arrived first. The glance with the telltale smirk was quick, and could have been just chalked up to a trick of the mind—but the way his eyes glinted as the corner of his lips lifted into a smirk when you looked straight at him on the days your train approached first confirmed your suspicions.

So just like that, the bleach blonde stranger had quickly become a fixture in your morning routine. Your eyes met at least twice every day, but you still didn’t know his name nor he—yours.

What you hadn’t expected though, was stepping into the train at 3:02 PM headed to Shibuya and seeing him, checkered fanny pack and all, staring straight at you as he took one of the fully occupied seats in front of the only available area for you to stand in.

And like a normal person with a sane mind which you consider yourself to have: you ignored him completely.

From your peripheral vision you could practically see him scoff before he looks straight at you and says, “For the record I arrived first.”

You nod, not sure whether you want to answer or not, but the grandmother stares at him in a way that even has you feeling bad, that he motions to stand up, quickly saying, “Take my seat.”

You shake your head and tell him, you’re getting off soon anyway, so he stays.

He looks at you, then at the grandmother shrugging when she shakes her head towards him (really, you still feel bad), and tells you, “If I didn’t know any better I’d take that this is just a ploy so I feel bad and take ya’ out for coffee or somethin’ after this.”

You roll your eyes, “Only if we get off at the same station.”

He smirks, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes again because it looks just as pompous as the one from earlier this morning.

“That’s a deal,” he says again and for the rest of the train ride you ignore him, quickly taking a seat on the opposite side when one opened up. The seemingly unending rush hour of Tokyo filled the train back up in less than a minute, so you suppose the stranger would think he just lost you in the crowd.

And because fate decided it wasn’t on your side that day, of course, the second you make it three steps out of the train, you see him from the exit next to yours waving at you.

“Well,” he says, “Wouldja’ look at that. If I didn’t know any better maybe fate’s on my side today after all.”

He’s still laughing when he shoves his hands in his pockets and fully faces you.

“Miya Atsumu,” he says, introducing himself with a smile that feels familiar despite it being the first time you’re seeing it.

“Lena,” you reply. His eyes crinkle again in a way that has you thinking maybe fate’s trying to tell you something today after all.

 -

#7 Iwaizumi Hajime | For souheii | lmao pls just think random grocery store but at like, 04:07 AM

A half empty grocery store parking lot on the other side of town at four in the morning wasn’t exactly your best idea up to date, but you guess the quiet it provides could be a redeeming factor.

The past night had simply been another one of those nights where the sandman decided to completely skip over your house, so in result, sleep could not find you even as you toss and turned for a solid hour or so. And if there was one good thing about midnight (or really, early early morning at this point) runs to the grocery store it was the feeling of aimlessly walking around the aisles and feeling so separated from the world.

The thing is, aisle three with the Doritos and Capri-suns looked the exact same whether you were there at 4AM or 4PM. The same redundant music plays over the speakers as the same monotonous beep of the cash register molds together as background music. But something about walking around there at 4AM just felt other worldly.

So you suppose that’s the reason why you hopped in your car after deciding you were far from sleep and the reason why you’re spending dusk leaned against the trunk of your car munching on doritos and sipping from your juice packet.

But the gods must have decided it was high time for some company because eventually the owner of the car parked across yours came back from what looked like his midnight run and did the same.

On a regular day (and under daylight) you would have jumped back in your car and drove away because one: you’re wearing a faded tshirt that looked 3 sizes too big for you, and two: your hair at this point hasn’t made acquaintance with a hairbrush for the past 10 hours maybe.

But, it may have been his stance that had you relaxing immediately, the fact that this dude was fucking hot, his superior choice of Doritos flavor (it being cool ranch), or your belief about grocery stores under moonlight being otherworldly that had you staying put in your spot.

Though really, it was just him settling in a position similar to yours and popping his bag of chips open while telling you, “Don’t worry about me, just do your thing,” that made you throw a thumbs up in his direction and stay.

Apparently his name was Iwaizumi Hajime and that his roommate had come home drunk so he decided the best option was to leave the apartment all together.

“Cheers,” you call out, raising your juice pouch in offering.

“Cheers,” he replies, doing the same with his Gatorade bottle and laughing with you.

You spend the next few hours making comments about nothing in particular, sharing the mutual silence as the two of you tear through the packaging of the snacks in your respective plastic bags.

In moments like these, you don’t really bother to learn much about the stranger sharing the hours before daylight with you, but curiosity makes you ask tidbits about him anyway as he does to you.

And as the eastern side of the sky begins to light up with touches of the burning sun’s flames, you come to know that Iwaizumi Hajime is a gemini who used to play volleyball in high school, that he loved catching cicadas as much as he loved to release them, and noticed that his mouth pushed up to a pout whenever you said something that teased him.

He, on the other hand learned that you love the rain as much as you love the sound of wind chimes, and that you crack your knuckles when you’re nervous—which he teases at that has you pouting.

Though only the skies witness how the both of you spent the minutes watching the sunrise by stealing glances at each other whenever the both of you thought either was looking.

When you dust off dorito crumbs from your shirt and unlock your car door Hajime calls out your name telling you he’ll shoot you a text soon.

This time you smile. Because despite the break of the day and the rising chatter of people driving in and out of the world waking back up—Hajime’s smile on your mind still makes the moment feel otherworldly.  

 -

#8 Bokuto Koutarou: Linette | 7/11, 01:14 AM

The best conversations happen with strangers you meet because of the uncertainty of how long they’ll stay.

Then again, people are generally like that. But in this case, strangers that you meet at 1 in the morning while you stop by a 7/11 for ice cream means that it feels a little safer to be more unfiltered.

Much like he was, you suppose. It took no more than three steps in the store, and a nod of acknowledgement to the part timer who welcomed you for him to bellow a loud “hello” in your direction. And much like you expected, your greeting in return had been more on the awkward side.

“Late night munchies?” he said as he stood up, brushed off the crumbs on his shirt and followed you to the freezers in the back.

You nodded, and tried to limit your focus to which kind of ice cream you even wanted before jolting in surprise as he stood right next to you—perhaps a little too close and pointing at the strawberry flavored tub on the left side. He only laughed at your response before picking up a tub and gesturing to the counter.

“My treat,” he said, and up until now, you still have absolutely no clue what possessed you to agree. But you did, so now ten minutes later, you’re sitting across Bokuto Koutarou, the stranger from the 7/11 right outside your apartment unit sharing an ice cream tub he bought for the two of you to share.

Conversation with him was, for one, interesting.

He didn’t exactly pry but when you did talk you could practically see the focus glint, striking and evident in whirlpools of gold. You didn’t know much about him either—most of the things he said was information you really could have done just the same without but he put it out there anyway.

“Any reason why you’re out here at 1 in the morning buying strangers tubs of icecream and eating them outside a 7/11?” you ask and he shakes his head, laughing. You think about how fitting relaxed laughter is for him.

“Not really; just felt like eating shit tonight,” is his reply and you nod your head, not really curious enough for further explanation.

“You usually say yes when strangers offer to buy you ice cream at 1 in the morning?” he asks, returning your question with the same tone as you face him pointing your spoon in his direction in your defense.

“Not really,” you say, laughing, “just felt like trusting strangers tonight.”

“That’s deep,” he comments, nodding before scooping up more ice cream and popping the smooth in his mouth.

“Midnight conversations tend to run deep,” you reply, then scoop up and do the same. You smile, strawberry ice cream always reminded you of nostalgia.

The man across you laughs exhales, slumping further down his seat as he looks up at the sky. There’s not much stars in the city, but the way he smiles when he closes his eyes would make you think like he’s looking at the Milky Way itself swirling the secrets of the universe into the sky.

The silence you shared with him felt profound, almost.

“I don’t think you’d have the same conversation if you met me here at 1PM, though,” he tells you.

“You morph into a different person or something?” you laugh, responding.

“Something like that,” Bokuto says again and continues to face up; he’s still smiling, and you take note of that too.

“Different person or different thoughts?” you ask, and he nods at you, face scrunching up in thought at your question. He looks a little silly, you think.

“Different person, same thoughts, but usually with a filter,” he answers after some time, laughing.

“Then should I be glad I’m talking to you now?” you ask.

Bokuto sits back up before leaning on the table with his elbows, his eyes locked on you. The spark in his eyes look somewhat like the reflection of the streetlights behind you with how bright they are, but the flicker tells you it’s just a trick of the eye. Though, regardless of that, you find yourself entranced as you stare back at him.

“That depends on you,” is his answer to the question, so you counter with, “Does that mean I’ll get to meet this other person?”

Bokuto laughs and you notice how it echoes in the quiet street. “I guess so.”

When he turns to face the starless sky again and smile as if he’s watching the universe unfold, you do the same.

Strangers really do have stories to tell; in this case, you find yourself suddenly intrigued to learn all about his.

 -

[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (part 6)

A/N: this part contains season 7 spoilers!!

tw: cursing, regular criminal minds stuff

wordcount: 3.3k

masterlist: 

He squatted down to look inside of the box, deciding not to worry about the surprise being ruined. He knows the ending, it’s already spoiled, so why not see what he has in store?

He took a mental note of each item, cataloging them in the extensive library that is his brain. For some of the items he immediately knew what they meant, for others he would have to read. He realized the bottom of the box was dirty, dusty even. When he picked up the debris, he realized they were pieces of dried flower petals that had been crushed to smithereens when he knocked the box over. He held the delicate pieces in his hands, barely even breathing, so he wouldn’t destroy them more than he already had. He sighed and tried to put the petals back together like a puzzle, but it was missing far too many pieces. Pieces that he was responsible for losing. Tears welled up in his eyes and he put the pieces on his bedside table. 

He was angry now. In all his grieving since the breakup, he hadn’t been angry yet. He did the rest of the five stages, just in the wrong order. He started out with denial, telling himself it was all a dream. If he could just wake up then you would be right there, arms open, ready to accept him, comfort him, love him. Then came the bargaining, countless nights on your doorstep banging on the door begging you to let him in and just talk. You never answered. Then the depression, which lasted longer than he expected. He was still a shell of a person on most days, just moving through the motions, not feeling much of anything at all. In the few weeks prior he had grown to accept defeat, accept that this was over and done. Acceptance is always the hardest bit, especially for him. Spencer Reid doesn’t lose. But he always seemed to forget that love isn’t a game to be played; you were not a prize to be won. Love is hard work and sweat and tears and yelling and kissing and laughing and comfort. Love isn’t a game. 

But then your stupid box came, causing him lose all the progress he had made. 

Now, he was finally angry. He was angry at himself more than you, but he was still so angry with you. He knew he had mentally checked out of your relationship before the end, but that was because he just needed a break. Everything had changed so much so fast that he just needed to go sort himself out before jumping back into you. But you wouldn’t give him the time. You didn’t need space, you needed him; and he wouldn’t give himself to you. Neither of you would give the other what they desperately needed, so you ended it. He may have blamed himself for your relationship’s demise but he blamed you for leaving. He hated that you could just walk away from him, just like everyone else did. He hated that you could walk away from your family like that. How could you leave Derek behind? Rossi? Hotch? JJ? Garcia? How could you be so selfish?

“How could you!?” He wailed, as if you were there to hear him. Hot, angry tears ran down his face. 

Spencer was seething, pacing wildly up and down in his room, pulling at his hair in a desperate attempt to feel any release. Eventually he talked himself down, but immediately following anger is depression. That damn Kubler-Ross Change curve. That familiar hollow feeling filled up his chest. He was numb again, and immediately regretted all the thoughts he had about you. 

He was just hurt, in so many different ways at once and he had no idea what to do with it. Handling his emotions isn’t exactly his strong suit. 

More than anything he missed you. The letters only brought back up all the feelings he had worked so hard to repress. He needed you, more than he ever did, so he turned to the one place he could find you. 

“Congratulations Spence! You have made it ⅓ of the way through the letters. ⅓ of the way through our relationship. So it only makes sense that this is about our one year anniversary. 

We take a time jump on this one. So direct your attention to the green velvet jewelry box and the dried flower. I kept a few flowers from every bouquet you ever got me and dried them, so I could have them forever. Remember how I had so many flowers tied up with string hanging in our bedroom? They were all from you. Throwing flowers away always made me sad, especially when you bought them because you always took such care in choosing them. Every bouquet had a meaning. I never knew about flower symbolism until I met you. This magnolia is from my favorite bouquet you ever got me, the ones for our first anniversary,”

His heart sank. The flower was your favorite, and there it was in shreds on his nightstand. He destroyed it, not on purpose, but he still destroyed it. He ran his hands through his brown hair, cursing himself for ruining yet another thing. Lately, he always seemed to be doing that. 

“So let’s start with some context. Everything was going perfectly. The universe was finally on our side. Emily came back from the dead, which was a shocking but very welcome surprise. I needed her, needed my best friend. And she came at just the right time. She was different, but still our Em. JJ was back as a profiler now, which made us all very happy, you in particular. The gang was finally back together and we felt unstoppable, invincible. Hell, we even got questioned by a Senate Committee and still kept our jobs. Things got back to normal, or whatever can be considered ‘normal’ for us. It’s a very loose definition of the word. We had officially been together a year and it was without a doubt the happiest year of my life. We never fought, all our days were filled with work and loving each other. We spent all our time together, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best thing. We got a little codependent. But it worked. We worked. 

I’m still sorry for how that day went. You planned it to be perfect, and I messed it up. 

The flowers and necklace were the gifts that you planned to give me at your place after we got dinner at that fancy Italian restaurant downtown that I had been dying to eat at. You told me it took a lot to get the reservations, but you managed to snag a table for us, because you called three months in advance. It was the sweetest gesture. I mean that. No guy ever put that much effort into something for me. I was so excited; I went out and bought a dress for the occasion and everything. It was going to be the best night. We were going to hit the first milestone of many. There were only 3. I thought there would be infinite anniversaries for us, Spence, but we only had 3. And I’m sorry I ruined the first one. 

Work happened. More specifically, Hotch sent me and Rossi to interview a prisoner at North Branch in Maryland. I originally refused, telling them all about our date. Hotch and Rossi both assured me we would be back in time for the reservations. 

“Why me? Why can’t you bring Emily? Or Derek? This is the ONE night I need!” I had complained. 

“Your skills are what we need for this one. It’ll be quick Y/N, I promise,” Hotch said. I rolled my eyes, not to be disrespectful but so he knew I wasn’t happy. 

“Fine, but if you make me stand up Spencer Reid on our anniversary you’ll be a very sorry man.”

They both just laughed and I was whisked away on the jet to Maryland. The whole way there I was nervous and fidgeting. I barely spoke to Rossi on the flight, and I’m have the biggest mouth of anyone! I just didn’t want to ruin that night. You were so excited. I hate disappointing you. You were so nice about my having to work though. When I told you I had to go, you texted me and told me it was okay, a flight from DC to Baltimore is 34 minutes. We’d barely hit altitude before we had to come down, and that you were so excited to see me. I promised you that I’d make it, I’d even be early. 

I think that’s the only promise to you I ever broke. 

The guy we interviewed was a real weirdo, like a little weirder than the usual unsubs. He was on Death Row, scheduled to be executed in a week. His thing was killing women and then scalping them to make wigs. 

Real nasty. 

We got there earlier than expected, around noon. We interviewed him for a while, taking a lot of breaks to breathe. He even gave Rossi the heebie-jeebies and Rossi invented interviewing serial killers. Just as we were about done, around four, something happened. A riot in the courtyard. Of course. They locked down the prison. Thankfully we were not stuck in the room with the psycho, like you were with Hotch that time. They still wouldn’t let us leave. It’s not like we didn’t ask. We did. We did the whole “we’re FBI agents. Don’t make me call the director” thing. The warden just said sorry, no can do, tough shit. So Rossi and I were trapped in a hyper-max that was rioting, and the clock was ticking and ticking and my chances of making this date were fading away. 

To say I was pissed was an understatement. Rossi knew I was furious. He was there when Hotch said ‘It’ll be quick Y/N, promise,” and he knows how I bite heads off when I’m mad. He’s a smart man, so he did the smart thing and didn’t talk. I tried to call you, text you, everything, but my stupid phone had no reception in that stupid concrete box. 

They let us out at 5, combine the 34 minute flight with commuting to and from the air strips and taking into account 5 pm rush hour traffic? I know you can tell me exactly how long it would’ve taken me to get to the restaurant. But even I knew it was too damn long. 

And the traffic really outdid itself that day! I didn’t think a ten minute drive could ever be a half hour long, but it was. As we sat I got more and more antsy and tried calling you. Straight to voicemail. I did that probably 15 times, but nothing. Your phone died. Most people would assume that you charge your phone all the time, but it’s the opposite. The thing rarely is above 30% and I used to remind you to charge it all the time. It was always sort of endearing, just another thing to love about your quirky self. That night it was just infuriating. 

When we landed it was already past 6:30. I changed in the bathroom at Quantico and drove as fast as I could to the restaurant. I definitely broke some laws that day. 

When I got there I didn’t see you, so I asked the hostess about the reservation. She gave me a sad look and told me you waited forty-five minutes for me. You even ordered my favorite wine for the table. And I missed it.”

Spencer recalled sitting there at the table, fidgeting with his thumbs and barely sitting still. Every time the door swung open and it wasn’t you he lost more and more hope. His phone had died because he was bad at charging it. You were the one to always remind him to plug it in before bed. He couldn’t even call you to see if you were okay, or call Rossi, or Hotch. He couldn’t do anything except sit there and eat the free bread and oil that were on the table. He knew there would be a good reason why you missed the date, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. At 6:45 he gave up and paid for the wine he barely even drank and left, everyone sending him sympathetic looks as he walked out. It was no longer perfect, and that’s all he wanted. One perfect night with you, and you couldn’t even give him that.

“So I drove to your place and knocked on the door. I was so nervous, feeling equal amounts of excitement and dread. I knocked on the door and you opened it. I smiled and went in for the hug and you blocked it. Cue our first fight. 

“I’m so sorry love, at the prison they locked us in and we couldn’t leave and then there was traffic and I’m so so sorry,” I said. You just wouldn’t look at me. You just stared at the gift bag on your couch. 

“Spencer? Hello? I’m so sorry. I know how much effort you put into today and I–“

“Do you know how embarrassing that is?” You said. You looked upset, brows furrowed and hands waving wildly. 

“I sat there for almost an hour alone, the waitress even offered me dessert on the house because I got stood up. I kept telling them you’d be there, but I had to give up. You stood me up on our anniversary Y/N.”

I felt like a kid getting scolded by their favorite teacher. 

“I tried to call you,” I mumbled, “There was no service in the prison so when we were on our way back to the jet I tried, but it went straight to voicemail.”

You just groaned and ran your hands through your hair. You had taken off your suit jacket and tie and they were thrown on the couch.

“You shouldn’t have gone! You knew what today meant to me and still went!”

“I tried! I asked Hotch if someone else could do it and he said no! And YOU said it was okay!”

Our voices were loud now, I half expected your neighbor to bang on the door and tell us off. 

“Of course I did! I couldn’t tell you not to do your job. The job always comes first! I just wish you told me so I didn’t look like an idiot!”

“‘Job always comes first’” I mocked, you looked at me in a way you never looked at me. It was the look you only used on unsubs. Jaw clenched, eyes fiery, more pissed than I had ever seen you. “I TRIED to tell you! Maybe if you ever charged your damn phone you would’ve gotten my texts! My fourteen phone calls! Maybe you would’ve gotten the texts and calls I had Rossi send because I thought it was my phone that was broken!”

You moved to sit on the couch, me standing in front of you. Tears were stinging my eyes, I’ve always been an angry crier. I softened before talking next. 

“Spence, Love, look at me.”

And you did. Your brown eyes looked sad, all the rage and fire behind them was gone. 

“I’m sorry, what can I do?”

I sat next to you and put my head on your shoulder. You leaned your head on top of mine. Such a small gesture, but so romantic at the same time. 

“I just wanted today to be special,” you croaked. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve called the restaurant or something. I could’ve found a better plan.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry too, Y/N.”

You wrapped me up in a much needed hug and kissed my cheek. We sat like that for a while. 

“Well this isn’t how I wanted tonight to go but,” You said and reached behind you. 

I sighed, “I didn’t get you anything, we said no gifts.”

You smirked and handed me a bouquet of flowers and a bag, “They’re magnolias.”

“They’re beautiful,” I said, and I shoved my face in them to smell. 

“Magnolias are considered one of the first flowering plants. Fossil remains show they have been around for 100 million years. They symbolize longevity and perseverance. Men historically gifted women magnolias as an appreciation of their beauty, essentially saying ‘you are worthy of a beautiful magnolia.’ But more recently the idea of a steel magnolia, a strong southern wom—“

I cut you off with a kiss, “I love them. Stop rambling.”

You blushed and motioned for me to open the bag. It held a small, green velvet jewelry box. Inside was a vintage locket, gold with little blue stones and beautiful etching. I gasped when I saw it. I opened it up and it was empty. 

“I wanted you to pick what goes in it, Y/N.”

I held it delicately in my hands; the chain was so thin, “It’s perfect.”

You grinned practically ear to ear, those dimples coming out full force. I asked you to clasp it for me and it hung just below the base of my neck. 

I wore the locket daily. The gold started to tarnish and chip, but I still wore it. I only took it off to shower and sleep. On one side of the oval I put a picture of you, the one from the fourth of July when I painted the kids’ faces at Rossi’s party. I painted a flag on your cheek. You laughed as the brush tickled your skin. You smiled wide in that picture. I love that picture. It’s still in there. It hurts to look at. 

I can’t wear it anymore. I thought long and hard about keeping it. It was a part of me for two years. It kept you close to my heart always, no matter where we were. I thought maybe I could change the picture out, or just leave it in a box to collect dust. Both options feel wrong, so instead I’m giving it back to you, along with the magnolia that has long since dried up. Much like our feelings for each other. 

I don’t care what you do with any of these things. I don’t even know what to do with them, with any of this. I don’t know what to do with all these feelings, Spence. I don’t know what comes next. I don’t know how to do this without you. You always know. So do with these what you see fit. I trust you.”

Spencer put the paper down and held the box in his hands and opened it. He remembered picking it out and thinking how wonderfully the blue and gold would contrast your skin tone. He remembered clasping it around your neck a thousand times because your fingers just couldn’t seem to do it. He remembered how you used to play with it when you got nervous. He remembered the rows of flowers you would hang on the wall. It just inspired him to keep buying you more and more. He loved those little things about you.

As you promised the picture of him was still inside. He stared at himself with a huge grin and a red, white, and blue cheek. He was so happy. He looked nothing like the man in that picture anymore. His hair was longer and shaggier now and he couldn’t remember the last time he smiled like that. Smiles like that were reserved for you. 

He held the locket in his hands and stared out the window, admiring how the snow blanketed the street. 

Then he heard something, a knock at his door. 

He jumped up, part of him thought it would be you. Could it be? Has rainy Seattle already been too much for you?

A familiar voice from behind the door spoke, “Hey, it’s me.”

Part 7!

taglist: @l0ve-0f-my-life​ @aperrywilliams​ @helloniallslovelies​ @random-ravings

@ajwantsapancake​ @andiebeaword​ @boiled-onionrings​ @frnks-stuff​ @icantevenanymore1​

[bitchesofostwick]

boba kisses

i wrote something short and sweet for OC kiss week! this is featuring ellinor and @cullenvhenan​‘s OC caridad <3 ily ellie and happy valentine’s day!

***

“We need to talk,” Ellinor huffs as soon as Avery opens the door to their shared apartment. She crosses her arms—not that she needs to; the tone in her voice alone has him raising his eyebrows and throwing his hands up in feigned defense.

He kicks the door closed behind him and tosses his keys into the dish on the counter. “What did I do this time?”

She narrows her eyes at him, crossing her arms. “Pastry delivery this morning.”

He knows what she means. She can tell. Because he goes from being defensive to being completely and utterly pleased with himself, a shit-eating grin spreading over his face before he even answers.

This was all his fucking plan, she thinks.

Earlier that day, she’d gone in for her shift at the cafe—her one opening shift of the week, because she’d probably die if she did more than that. Clocked in. Started brewing the coffees, grinding the espresso. At 6 a.m. sharp, the back door buzzer sounded—Avery, she’d figured, here to deliver the daily pastry and bagel order from the bakery across the street. The bakery Caridad Lacanilao owned. Caridad’s bakery. The bakery owned by Caridad, who Avery worked for. Caridad, she thought wistfully before shaking her head abruptly. Avery always delivered the pastries in the morning, and he always gave her shit if she didn’t let him in quickly. So she wiped her hands off on the apron loosely tied over her flannel top, flipped off the coffee grinder, and headed out for the back door.

And when she’d opened it, it was not Avery, but Caridad Lacanilao standing there.

“That was not cool!” she huffs to Avery, still crossing her arms. “You were supposed to—I didn’t know—I wasn’t expecting—”

“Calm down!” He smirks at her. It’s infuriating. “I thought you’d be glad to know that it was her idea.”

She sputters. “Her—what?”

“Yeah. I’d already boxed up the pastries and stuff, and I was about to head out when she told me to start getting the baguettes in the oven. Which she usually does herself. So she definitely just wanted to go flirt with you.” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

Of course he does. This is all just hilarious to him.

“Well she didn’t,” Ellinor grumbles. “Flirt with me, I mean.”

“Come on, Ell—”

“I’m serious! There was no flirting! I opened the fucking door and she was like ‘hi,’ and I said ‘oh.’” She throws her hands up in the air. “Literally just ‘oh.’ Like an idiot. I couldn’t make this up.”

“It’s not like you guys haven’t had normal conversations before.” Sensing that she’s no longer...hostile...he kicks his shoes off and hangs his jacket on the hook by the door.

Shr shrugs. “I know. But it takes...so long to get to that point. I always say something dumb or awkward. Like ‘oh.’ And she’s probably like, ‘I have so many better things I could be doing than talking to this loser’—”

“She would never think that.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I work with her?” he says. “And she’s always asking how you’re doing or talking about how she might go across the street for a latte if the shop gets slow.”

Ellinor perks up. “Really?”

“Yes!” Avery says, rolling his eyes. “Seriously. You guys are so weird about this whole thing, I don’t know why you can’t just see that the other is interested—”

“She’s not interested!” she insists. “I mean, not like...not like that. I’m sure she’s just like, ‘oh, that’s Ellinor, my employees sister, who I could definitely see as a friend but nothing more than’—”

“Stop putting words in her mouth, Ell.” He sighs, flopping down on the couch. “You’re just speculating because you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid. I saw her this morning.”

“Yeah, and from the little bit that you told me, it seems like that went just great.”

She doesn’t even bother telling him about how she could barely get her words straight when she offered Caridad a coffee, or about how she literally dropped two bagels on the floor by accident stocking the pastry case while said coffee was brewing and Caridad was standing idly waiting for it.

“It was. Fine.”

“Look at me.”

“No,” she mumbles, but he won’t relent.

“Ell. Look me in the eye and tell me you’re really okay with just seeing Caridad a couple times a week at the cafe or bakery or maybe when all three of us hang out.”

She tilts her head back and forth indecisively, and Avery sighs.

“One of you has to make a move eventually.”

“Well it’s not going to be me,” she says decisively, tossing her phone onto the coffee table before heading into the bathroom.

Deep breaths, Ellinor, she thinks, closing the door behind her. It’s not like her to get so flustered about anything, really, but Caridad was another story. She splashes some water on her face and pats a towel over her cheeks, taking one final deep breath before emerging.

“You good?” Avery snorts, and she rolls her eyes at him.

“I’m fine.” She sits down next to him on the sofa, picking up her phone from where she’d left it only to find a text waiting for her on her lock screen.

Caridad

Yeah, that would be cool

She almost drops her phone from how quickly she tries to swipe it open. “What the…” Inside is a text from her that was very obviously not written by her.

Hi Caridad! Avery told me you’re taking the day off tomorrow. I’m off too! Would you want to get boba together?

“Avery,” she breathes.

“Mmhmmmm?”

“What have you done?”

“You said you weren’t going to make a move. So I made a move for you.”

“Avery—”

“I know you’re off tomorrow. And I know you didn’t have any plans. But now you do!”

“I’m going to kill you,” she says, her heart racing. “I’m going to—oh my god, I have to tell her I can’t. This was a mistake.”

“But she already said yes!”

Oh my god. She said yes.

She groans and falls back into the couch cushions. “Fuck. You’re right.”

***

She stands outside the boba shop, shifting her weight from foot to foot. This was a bad idea. Caridad isn’t even here yet. Granted, she made sure to get to the boba shop exactly 15 minutes early. She even woke up early for this. She’d agreed to meet with Caridad at 1, but she woke up at 10, showered, changed into ripped denim shorts with tights and about eight different flannel shirts before deciding on a red one. And she put on makeup for this. And a matching red knit beanie. And all of that only took until 11. Which means she had two extra hours to pace around her apartment anxiously before heading out.

She’d hung out with Caridad alone only two times before this, and both were months ago. The first time was one night when they’d happened to close the cafe and bakery at the same time and ran into each other in the street, and Caridad mentioned that she was going to go get ramen, and Ellinor had stupidly said oh, me too! She was not, in fact, going to go get ramen after work. Or at least, she wasn’t until her brain decided to make up something stupid just to be able to hang out with Caridad. But Caridad had said oh, we could um. Go together. So it worked. In a way. And they got ramen. And it was awkward at first, but after a few glasses of sake it was decidedly less awkward, and they ended up staying and chatting until the restaurant was closing. The other time, they’d planned to go see a movie with Avery only for Avery to bail at the last minute. Ellinor hadn’t thought much of it then (she sure does now), but she and Caridad had gone together anyway. And it was nice. And their fingers had brushed together every time they’d reached for popcorn at the same time, which was...several times. And after the movie, they’d walked the long way home. Neither of them suggested it. But their feet seemed to carry them blocks away from the more direct route to their neighborhood, and they’d chatted together in the quiet street-lit sidewalks until finally it seemed like the only place left to go was home.

But anyway. Both of those times were months ago, and even though Ellinor had been convinced that they could’ve had something then, she’s all but lost hope by now. And yet thanks to Avery, here she was, standing outside the boba shop looking like an idiot waiting for Caridad.

That’s if she doesn’t end up deciding this is a bad idea.

“Ellinor?”

She turns sharply only to find her standing there, and for a second, she doesn’t even know what to say.

These days, if she sees her at all, it’s usually in her standard baker’s jacket and black pants, black hair tied back into a bun or ponytail. Not this time. Today, Caridad is dressed in ripped gray skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder red top, her hair loose and long and flowing past her bare shoulders. Oh good, she wore makeup too, Ellinor thinks, noting Caridad’s cherry red lipstick and smokey eye combination. It would’ve been weird if only I wore… She shakes her head. Stop being stupid. Say something.

“Hey,” she says nervously. “Uh. Our red shirts match.”

Caridad flashes an awkward smile. “Ha. Yeah. They do.”

You fucking idiot, Ellinor, she thinks.

They stare at each other until another customer steps out of the boba shop and walks right between them out onto the sidewalk.

“Oh. Right.” Ellinor opens the door for them. “Uh. After you.”

Caridad steps inside, her heeled boots clicking gently on the floor. “What are you going to get?” she asks her, and Ellinor blushes.

“Oolong.”

“Oh! Yeah. Me too.”

Ellinor’s eyes widen.

“It’s my favorite,” Caridad clarifies.

“Yeah, me too.”

She manages to order her tea without making too much of an embarrassment of herself, and they make their way out of the shop.

“Do you want to go to the park?” Caridad asks quickly. “I mean, unless you wanted to go somewhere else. I don’t care.”

“No! The park is—the park would be nice.”

With her heels on, Caridad is only just taller than Ellinor. She glances at her shyly as they walk together. We’re probably the same height, she figures, because from where she stands, she can see the way her cheeks redden in the early spring cold, and the way her eyelashes flutter when she catches Ellinor looking at her.

Oops.

The park is surprisingly quiet when they arrive. They sip their boba in silence, walking around the gardens and the fountains that had only just thawed from the winter weather.

“Wait…” Ellinor says suddenly, looking around.

Caridad stops. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I mean. This is where...isn’t this where we walked around after the movies, that one time?”

If Caridad’s face was flushed before, it’s really red now. “Oh,” she says hurriedly. “Yeah. I guess so.”

I guess so.

Ellinor’s heart sinks. It probably doesn’t matter as much to her. “Yeah, I only just remembered. That was. Uh. Fun.”

“Yeah,” Caridad mumbles. “It was.”

Despite her discouragement, Avery’s voice rings in her ears. One of you has to make a move eventually.

Ugh. He’s right, even if she wouldn’t admit it to his face. And if she doesn’t say something now, she’ll probably regret it.

Definitely regret it.

“Hey, Caridad.”

Her eyes snap up from where she’d been looking at her boots, meeting Ellinor’s gaze. “Yeah?”

“What...um. What happened, after that night?” She swallows. “I mean, I thought we’d had a really nice time. I’d hoped that maybe we could’ve hung out again sometime, but I—well, maybe it’s me, I was too scared to ask you, but I did think it was fun and I sort of wished we’d hung out again but you never said anything so I sort of assumed you probably did want to but I did want to and...oh fuck, now I’m babbling, and—”

“You did?” Caridad asks in a small voice.

“Did what?” Ellinor squeaks.

“You—you did want to hang out with me again?”

“W-well—yeah! I mean. Yeah, I did. I just didn’t think you were interested because you’re so. Cool. And stuff. But I thought...that we’d really had fun that night. And—”

“So did I.”

“You...oh.” Ellinor says nervously. “You did.”

“Yeah. It was really nice.”

Ellinor takes a deep breath, considering this. “So, did you...suggest coming to the park on purpose?”

Caridad looks back downward. “Yeah.”

Oh.

She looks up. “Caridad.”

“Yes?”

Clutching her boba in her hands, she takes a single step closer to her, tilts her head up, and kisses her cheek.

“Oh,” Caridad whispers, and she looks into Ellinor’s eyes, blushing, surprised, but smiling. Just a little.

But a little is enough.

The next time Ellinor leans in, she meets her lips in a full kiss, soft and careful and tasting like sweetened oolong tea. Ellinor wonders if her red lipstick will rub off on her. She hopes it does.

“That was…” she breathes when Caridad pulls away. “Nice.”

Caridad smiles, bringing the straw from her boba to her mouth. “It was nice.”

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 38)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25  Lewis POV 3,  Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3, 29, Lewis POV 4, 31, ViVi POV 4 , 33, 34, Lewis POV 5, Mystery POV 2, Lewis POV 6

Part 39: here

...

VIVI POV

Vivi’s never spent much time in hospital or medical clinics- the perks of having a doctor for a father-and now she’s had the opportunity she can confirm that she hates it. She hates the off white walls, the artificial light, and faint smell of bleach. Hates how claustrophobic and stuffy the corridors feel despite having so little in them. Hates the stupid cheap picture prints of supposedly uplifting scenes spaced along the walls. Mostly, she hates how the nurses and orderlies rush around, always busy, while she’s stuck with only her thoughts for company.

"I just wish you’d told me something was wrong…or that something bad was happening. I would have helped…”

No response. Arthur maintains his silence. With both her friends unconscious, she’s had plenty of time to ruminate on the past few days, trying to fit together a version of events that made sense. Vivi slumps forward, tapping her foot to let out excess energy, leaning towards Arthur. He’s a chalky white colour and his hair is limp, spread across the pillow framing his equally pale face, but his expression is peaceful so that’s something.  It was better than seeing Arthur's face all twisted, grinning at Lewis like he wanted to rip his friend apart. It was better than seeing the panicked defeat  on his face moments before he lost consciousness and she was left sitting in two growing puddles of blood.

No.

She can't think about that. All she could do now is try and understand.  Upset, Vivi fiddles with her phone, flipping through applications, trying to distract herself from the silence and monotony. She deliberately ignores her growing collection of missed calls and texts from her family. The only two people she wants to hear from are in no position to contact her.

“Something was bothering you long before all this…” 

She pauses in her tapping, reaching forward so her hand ends up hovering over Arthur’s, uncertain.  Unfortunately, even when knowing about the body snatcher and Mystery’s kitsune form, she still doesn’t know why Arthur had started acting weird. All this crap and she’s still in the dark. 

“Was that asshole Micky threatening you?”

Lewis had mentioned Arthur getting into an altercation with the guy. Was that Micky’s motivation or had the body snatcher already been targeting Arthur before that? Sure, the creature had said it wasn’t involved in Arthur’s initial behaviour change, but she wasn’t about to just trust it.  

“When did you become such a convincing liar?” Silence follows her question and she switches her phone on and off, mind elsewhere.

‘Don’t you want to know why Arthur’s been acting so out of character?

Like someone’s flipped a switch on his personality

… not quite himself…’

The bastard parasite made it sound like Arthur had been possessed long before the it got involved. She physically shakes her head, trying to dislodge the taunt, resuming her restless tapping. Mystery had confirmed that Arthur was no longer possessed…and Arthur's eyes had been their usual golden colour right up until that night outside the diner.  He couldn’t have been possessed before that. Mystery would have mentioned it…right? 

“Maybe I’m just that gullible...”

Not like she has a great track record. That day,  when the weird behaviour had started, Lewis had picked up on it almost immediately but she’d just dismissed it as a mood swing. Her parents and dog had lied to her all her life and she was only now just figuring it out after having the truth shoved in her face. It stung. 

“I can’t even sniff out the truth when it’s right under my nose,” she mutters, glancing up at the clock hanging over a silent television set. It had been around this time yesterday that a nurse had come past, pressuring her to leave. The first thing she was doing when Arthur awoke was force him to sign her up as a medical proxy so she didn’t have to hang out in the 24/7 emergency waiting room until visiting hours recommenced.  

Disheartened, Vivi stands, making her way out of the room, scooping up the small pile of disposable coffee cups and food wrappers to dump in the trash on her way out. Both Lewis’s parents and been by to check on Arthur several times, bringing her cups of tea and snacks so she wouldn’t accidentally stave.

She hesitates at the door, glancing back at Arthur.

“I’ll be back first thing tomorrow.”

She supposes she should be grateful that Arthur has a room all to himself and she doesn’t have to worry about disturbing other patients with her muttering. Lewis is sharing his room with three other people. That fact that those three other people were unconscious and unlikely to wake up didn't make it comfortable. She slinks down the hall, leaving Arthur behind. 

The door to Lewis’s room is dull grey like every other door in the place. It has been left open, allowing her to hover and peek into the room without being spotted by Lewis’s parents. Only his mom and sisters are present. They’re talking in lowered voices, impossible to make out against the general ambience of the hospital in the background. Gingerly, she backs up. He throat tightens. It doesn’t look like Lewis is awake and she didn’t want to bother the family. The small space around the bed was crowded enough.

“Vivi?”

She jumps at the second voice, twisting quickly and almost knocking two styrofoam cups of steaming liquid from Nicholas Pepper’s hands. Luckily, Lewis’s dad has the foresight to draw back a step.

She winces, pulling away from the door to cross her arms.

“Sorry…I’m a bit jumpy.”

Worry floods the older man’s face and she quickly moves to deflect the incoming question about her wellbeing.

“How’s Lewis?”

A long sigh.

“…Still comatose, but his brain activity is steadily increasing, which I’m told is a good sign, so there’s hope that he’ll wake up. We’re waiting for word on a proper recovery time-frame.”

“Oh.” She winces again, “That’s....”

What exactly is she supposed to say to that? She swallows, words suck.

“…better than yesterday…” Nicholas finishes her sentence for her with a reassuring smile.

She clears her throat, “Sorry I haven’t been by to see him sooner…it’s just…” Lewis had his whole family visiting in shifts and Arthur had no one. It definitely wasn't because seeing Lewis unconscious made her unbearably miserable.

���I’m sure Lewis would understand.”

Yeah, he would. Lewis was great like that. Vivi begins to retreat backwards. If she spends too much time thinking about Lewis she’ll get all teary again.

“We’ve decided temporarily rent an apartment not far from here.  It’s small, and a bit crowded, especially with the girls, but there’s always room for one more.”  

Vivi nods stiffly, continuing to shuffle backwards, moving around an unused monitor stand blocking part of the hallway. “Um, thanks but…I’ve got something to do…I need to check on Mystery…”

“I hope you’ve eaten more in the last 12 hours than that role I gave you at lunch.”

She grimaces. “I have…” There were vending machines right next to the emergency centre and a 24-hour coffee shop across the road. Nicholas gives her an evaluative stare, and Vivi is reminded that Lewis had have gotten his people skills from somewhere.

“We’ll probably be eating in about two hours, depending on how helpful the girls are feeling and what the general mood is,” A careful pause,  “I hope you’ll drop by at least.”

“I’ll think about it.”  

She turns in the opposite direction, hurrying away.

“I’ll text you the address…”

The hospital flashes by in a blur of pastel and she rushes past the ugly plastic chairs in the foyer near the reception desk. Outside the temperature is cooling but not uncomfortable. She quickly rubs her eyes, breathing in, focusing on the fresh unscented air. The heat is still radiating from the sun-soaked pavement means she barely needs Lewis’s oversized jacket to keep warm. A quick scan of the slowly emptying street has her spotting the recognisable shape of Mystery. The dog weaves around the scattered pedestrians, trotting in her direction. She stamps down her guilt, melancholy, and frustration to focus on the matter at hand.

/Vivi./ Mystery scans her and gives her a lopsided concerned squint. /You look…./

"Don't start..." She scowls, daring him to comment on her appearance.

/Hmmm…/ Mystery pauses, instead asking, /How are Arthur and Lewis?/

“No change…and Uncle Lance is still in the ICU in case you’re wondering,” she answers stiffly, trying to ignore the odd looks several pedestrians throw her way.  Hastily, she starts walking towards her truck and out of sight, holding her phone up so she doesn’t look like a complete loony talking to Mystery.

Mystery follows behind without prompting. She had parked in almost the same spot as last time so she wouldn’t have to worry about spending a fortune on parking tickets while she waits uselessly for hours on end.

/I see…I suppose the fact that no one is worse off is good news./

“No,” she retorts, spinning to glare at Mystery. “Good news is everyone waking up. Good news is Lewis not in a coma or Lance being released. None of this is good.”

/I only meant it was good that death is no longer imminent./ Mystery adds. In her mind, his sentence sounds carefully worded. He is eyeing her with something akin to care or concern. A couple walking past in business attire give alarmed looks upon the outburst.

“What?” She snaps at them. The busybodies continue past, giving her a wide berth. She watches them go before breathing out in frustration. All that time spent sitting silently in the hospital has given her a lot of restless energy.  

“Come on. We’ll talk in the truck.”

The rest on the short trip is spent in silence.

“What did you find out at the police station,” She asks once they're safely inside the truck cab, isolated from the general public. Mystery jumps in to sit beside her, eyeing her, one part concern one part thoughtful. Vivi leans across the seat to close the door and seal them inside.

/If you agree to rest and eat, I will tell you what I have found./

She scowls, frustration growing, “Are you trying to con me into a deal.”

/No. I am being completely transparent./ Mystery huffs, /As humans are unaffected by such dealings, this is purely a show of my goodwill./

“You’re doing this now?”

/Yes. You still harbour resentment towards me. Understandable. However, I would not form something as significant as an oath if I did not truly care about your wellbeing. Please./

Vivi glares some more but Mystery remains unmoved. Deals consisted of an offer, an amendment from the second party, then acceptance by the original offeror. It was a three-step process that humans weren’t supernaturally bound or required to follow, though it was poor form to break one. So...

“Fine…I’ll try and get a good night’s sleep and maybe eat. Happy?” She amends stubbornly, waiting to see if Mystery will accept the somewhat crappy revision. Mystery just snorts, amused and vaguely approving.

/Very well. I accept./

Mystery’s eyes flash ever so subtly and Vivi feels a tingle run up her arm. She exhales, rubbing her eyes. If there’s one thing she’s learnt over the past few days it’s that someone can both care and lie at the same time so she’ll take Mystery’s ‘goodwill’ with a grain of salt.

“So…What did you find out?” She repeats.

/As instructed, I spent the day, approximately nine hours, shadowing the human called Anderson around his place of work./

“And…”

/He appears busy, most of his time was spent sitting at a desk or in discussion with other humans, with topics ranging from various crimes in the city to social plans. The only mention of Arthur and Lance, referred to as the Kingsman casefile I believe, was a phone call confirming the existence of an abandoned vehicle removed from St Peter’s two-hour parking lot two nights ago. They plan to seize this vehicle as evidence for the case./ Mystery finishes his recount with a curious head tilt like he’s unsure whether the information is relevant. That makes two of them.  

“What does that have to do with anything,” She mutters. It had been two full days since their confrontation with the body snatcher at the Pepper’s diner and Lance’s admittance to the hospital so the vehicle had been abandoned the same day.

“You don’t think it’s Arthur’s van do you…did they mention what sort of vehicle it was?”

/No, that was not mentioned./

“If it is the van, then how did Arthur get to the diner?”

/These parasitic creatures are often limited to the capabilities of their hosts. It would have had to have used a form of human transport./

She crosses her arms, tapping her foot against the break-peddle, trying to fit the mysterious vehicle into her mental timeline of events.

First, the body snatcher arrives in Tempo in possession of Micky who threatens Arthur for some unknown reason, causing Arthur’s odd behaviour. Two weeks later, her, Lewis and Arthur leave Tempo on their road trip and the body snatcher attacks and possesses Lance the same night. Next, Lance is moved to the hospital in an ambulance before contacting Arthur. Arthur leaves her and Lewis, rushing to his Uncle’s side where the body snatcher is waiting to possess him. Once Arthur is possessed, the body snatcher attacks his Uncle and leaves the hospital, heading to the diner. Finally, her and Lewis arrive at the hospital just in time to save Lance.

There are lots of discrepancies in her timeline like: Where had the body snatcher come from? Micky had mentioned the old mines up west, was that related? Why attack Arthur? Surely this wasn’t all because Arthur had insulted his motorcycle? At what point had Micky been possessed? She and Lewis had arrived at the hospital several hours behind Arthur but were still in time to save Lance? 

These discrepances aside, she’s pretty confident that she has the barebones of a usable timeline.  If the vehicle referetd to by the police is Arthur’s van, then she might have to rethink things though.

“There isn’t anything else?” She asks again just to be sure.

/As I said, this human was busy with many activities and most of his work was completed electronically./

“Figures.” Aggravated, she takes a breath and tries to think logically. “Where’s the vehicle now?”

/That was not mentioned./

Well, this place wasn’t huge, how many car impounds could there be near the hospital? She pulls out her phone, connecting to the internet. There are two new missed calls from her dad and one from her mom. She ignores them.

“I got it. There are only two impounds nearish to the town centre. We’ll check the closest one first,” She pulls on her seatbelt, twisting so she can reverse safely out of the park. She’s definitely getting better at handling the small flatbed truck. When compared to driving in pitch black, rain pouring down and tears messing up her vision, this city driving was laughably easy.

/…and then will you rest?/

“Yeah, sure, after this.” At least this is something to occupy her mind. After spending the whole day circling through the same facts and replaying every scenario, it’s good to have something new think about.  

The first car compound is pretty small, with four of its six-car spots occupied and none containing Arthur’s van. A chain-link fence cordons it off from the footpath. It’s nothing special. There’s not even any barbed wire atop the fence.  Vivi makes sure she doesn’t park close enough to appear on any of the visible security cameras near the entrance. The two-story office building adjacent to the yard appears closed and Vivi eyes the darkened windows as she exits the truck, shoving her hands into her jacket pocket. The temperature has dropped in the last hour.

“Hey Mystery, your illusions, they, like, bend light or something right?” In the dim twilight, she doesn’t have to worry as much about appearing crazy when talking to Mystery. Not that there are many people around this area to notice her.

/They act as an intangible layer between myself and others./

She pauses to stare at Mystery, mulling over the description, “Remind me to teach you some real sciencey terminology because you’re explanations are kind of vague.” Arthur would help with that too…when he woke up…if he woke up.

“Do you think they’ll work on cameras?”

/I believe so. I had no problems while spying today and I saw multiple recording devices about the building./

“Good enough for me I guess. Can you stop people from seeing me while I climb over this?”

/Yes, but I will need to be quiet close to you. My range in this form is only five feet./

She picks him up, trying not to feel too uncomfortable. She has made a deliberate effort to keep a physical distance from Mystery and resist any inclination to pat or hold him. It just feels wrong. Weird. 

Awkwardly, she lets Mystery balance between her shoulder blades, freeing her arms to climb. “You’re not going to fall are you?” She’d never have trusted a dog to do this.

He shuffles about and she can feel his paws twitch as he adjusts his position in time with her movements.

/I will not fall./ He confirms. Once Mystery is secure, she heaves herself onto the fence and, when no one comes running out to stop her, scrambles the rest of the way up and over. Mystery hangs close to her legs as they walk across the lot and she has to concentrate so she doesn't accidentally trip over him.

None of the cars stand out, even upon closer inspection. She circles the small space and wonders what she is looking for. If Arthur were here, he’d probably know. Arthur actually paid attention to these sorts of details.

/This one has a familiar scent./ Mystery speaks as she carefully examines each vehicle in turn.

“You recognise the car? From where?” She re-examines it, but can’t find a match. It’s a pretty generic looking car, old, a bit run down. A standard vehicle for a town like Tempo so it could be anyone's.

/I am unsure. The scent is muddied with human chemicals./

If she had access to the police database she’d be able to search up its number plates. Exasperated, she walks forward to try the handle. The car is old enough not to have automated locks so it’s worth a shot.  She hesitates briefly to cover her hand with a sleeve so she doesn’t leave any fingerprints, wondering if she’s being too paranoid.

 It’s locked. What a shock. However, upon circling the car she finds one of the back windows half-open. Peering in, the interior is a mess with several old flannel shirts, take away containers and miscellaneous nik-nacks strewn about.

“Here.” She picks Mystery up from under the armpits, holding him out to the opening, “Can you smell anything else inside.”

The dog spends a moment breathing deeply, head moving around and positioning at different angles. Around them, wind rattles pits of discarded scrap metal, pushing around several empty plastic bags. The street lamps on the main road flicker on as the natural light dims.

/It is recognisable./ Mystery finally confirms, /I believe I may have come across this human at Arthur’s residence./

“…like a customer?”

/No. It is too distinct to be a customer. I would have had to have met this human several times to remember it./

“…But you don’t know who it is?”

/Unfortunately, I am not in the habit of cataloguing the smells of random humans./ Mystery responds, apologetic.

“This has to be the vehicle the police referred to…what are the odds of you recognising it if it isn’t?” Vivi mummers, glaring at the car again before retreating back over the fence. With the night quickly approaching there is not enough light to see any further details without pulling out her phone to use as its flashlight.

Back in the truck, she taps a finger on the dashboard, mulling over what she’s learnt. How many other people frequented Kingsman Mechanics that Mystery would have met more than once? Aside from her and Lewis’s families. 

“Lance had those two mechanic guys help out when Arthur was away or busy. I think their names where…Derrick….no…Darrel and Oliver or something. They’re the only ones who regularly visit the workshop. You think the car belongs to one of them?”

Mystery shrugs.  

They drive to the second car impound to do some more snooping. It’s the same as the first place, only this time Mystery doesn’t recognise any of the vehicles present. Stumped, Vivi finds herself back where she’d started, sitting and thinking, trying to come up within something that made sense. 

It wasn’t impossible that one of Lance’s employees had accompanied and/or driven Lance to the hospital on the day of the body snatcher’s first attack. If only she had their phone numbers, but no, she’d rarely talked to either of them. If Lewis were here, he would have had the numbers saved for sure. Lewis had everyone’s phone number. Lewis wasn’t here though. He was in a coma. Arthur was still unconscious. It was just her and random bits and pieces of information.

This is the same problem she’d run into when chasing after Arthur. Not enough information. She doesn’t know what to do and she doesn’t even have Lewis to distract her. Vivi grips her head, tasselling her hair, trying to hold back a sudden wave of panic. What if she’s too late again. What if she can’t figure this out in time. She’ll be too late to do anything and both Lewis and Arthur would suffer for it.

Why is she always one step behind?

/Vivi?/ A light prodding draws her attention. /You really should rest...It will make this investigation easier./

Mystery had his paw on her arm, eyes shining with more concern and emotion then she’s ever seen the dog openly display.

“I’m fine…” She pulls away and rubs her eyes, leaning back to stare at the roof, trying to regain composure. “It’s just…I’m always a step behind…If I knew more, if people would just tell me things... I’d be able to figure this out….” before something went terribly wrong, she adds silently.

“If I’d known more to begin with, I could have helped from the start.”  That’s what she’ll keep telling herself at least…

/The decision to withhold information would not have come from a place of malice…/ The soft-spoken reassurance only serves to reignite her resentment.

“So, just because they thought they were doing the right thing, it’s okay.” At this point, she’s not sure if she’s referring to her parents, Mystery or Arthur.

Mystery glances away, uncomfortable. Even now, she’s pretty sure Mystery’s holding back despite everything. She exhales again, trying to smother her emotions. She’d already run through this argument with Mystery and the whole thing is pointless. She can’t stop people lying to her. The only thing to do now was to be more aware of possible deception in the future.

“Say the car belonged to either Darrel or Oliver,” She pushes through her upset and back to the issue at hand. The more she thinks about the lies, the muddier her mind becomes, and the worse she feels. It’s better to just stay proactive and not obsess over everything people may or may not be keeping from her.

“Why just abandon it at the hospital? It can’t be a coincidence.”

She starts the engine, flipping on the heating to chase away the growing chill in the air.

/… where are we going?/

“Arthur’s van is still unaccounted for, meaning he probably drove it to the Pepper’s diner. If the cops haven’t found it then it’ll still be there somewhere.” She’s somewhat annoyed at herself  for not thinking to look for the van sooner. 

When Mystery shoots her a look of enquiry she elaborates, “Maybe there’ll be more of a clue regarding what happened in the van. If there is another person involved then that parasite-asshole might have killed or hurt them…It would explain the abandoned car and why the police care about it.”

It’s all speculation, but what else can she do at this point.

‘This is why leaving hosts alive backfires,’

The parasite bastard had said something like that right before getting Arthur shot …There were implications behind a statement like that. She hopes she’s wrong, the last thing she wants is for Arthur to get caught up in a murder investigation.

Mystery’s eyes darken and he lets off a low growl. /It is plausible…these creatures do take pride in spreading chaos. The one inhabiting Arthur was particularly…malicious./

She tightens her grip on the steering wheel.

Part 39: here

[soprano193]

Not a Couple

Chapter 6

Nina:

It didn't matter how many counselors told her it wasn't healthy, on the anniversary of Marcus' death, Nina could always be found working. It was a part of her ritual she was not ready to let go. Like eating a piece of carrot cake on his birthday or pampering herself on their anniversary, when he died, she worked. A lot. Each year she clocked in several hours of overtime, and then slept most of the next day, much to the chagrin of her therapists. She was well aware that it didn't make sense. Working overtime would do nothing to bring him back. She was past that point in her healing journey. Instead, she did it out of an irrational necessity to protect others from the same fate. This year was no different.

At around the time of their murder, a house a few doors down caught footage of a teenage boy running. The problem was, there are too few cameras to track his movements. Dr. Isles said DNA says the killer was likely female, but this boy may be a witness, and may provide a much needed crack in a case that had halted. Hundreds of hours of security camera footage in a ten mile radius had been loaded onto her computer. With a latte on her desk (and an iced one in the fridge), she got started tracking their teenage witness.

Monotony can do one of two things to Detective Holiday. The first option is the most obvious, the time dragging along so that several hours feels like days. But on some rare occasions, when she is driven to find something, or driven to ignore her feelings, time becomes an illusion. After narrowing the time frame she was searching for on each camera, she started with the ones closest to the crime scene first. After speeding through her two hour window on about six cameras, she found him. He stopped clear as day in the parking lot of a motel, looking behind him as he caught his breath. He stayed in the frame for about two minutes before moving on. At this point, he is in an area with more cameras, and is easier to track. She follows him along for eleven more cameras until he reaches a bus stop. She watched as a bus drove up, the boy smiling and waving before reaching out with a closed fist. Whether or not the driver returned his bump, she couldn't tell, but from afar the gesture seemed familiar. Jotting down the bus number and time stamp, she reached for her phone and dialed the number she needed before thinking about it.

"This better be important." Jane's raspy voice sounded groggy, and Nina could hear the bed creak as she moved.

Given her energy, Nina was momentarily confused. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"It's 3...26 in the morning. Yes, you did."

Nina grimaced. "Oh shit. Sorry. I lost track of time. I can fill you in tomorrow."

In the background, Nina heard stirring, and a female voice asking, "Who is it?"

Jane must have pulled the phone away from her phone away from her face, because her reply was quiet. "Don't worry Maura, it's just Nina." Then louder, "You woke me up. Might as well fill me in now."

Her eyes widened with realization, and she had to try and hide the shock in her voice. "So, I followed the witness on camera to a bus stop. He seemed to know the driver, maybe he takes that bus every day. I can text you the details so you can stop by the MBTA."

"Great. I'll stop by on my way in tomorrow."

"Sorry again for waking you."

"No, I'm sorry for being so harsh. Lucky for you, I fall back asleep easy. Which, by the way, why are you even awake? You do know that sleep is good for you, right?" Before Nina could answer, she heard mumbling in the background. "Maura wants you to know that a lot of studies say that all-nighters are bad for you. Well Maura, you can tell her yourself in the morning! I can't remember all those words with my tired brain!"

Nina chuckled. "Its a long story. I'll be fine." She opened a file with paperwork, minimizing videos. "Go back to bed, I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow." When they hung up, Nina took a moment to sit with what she stumbled on. Jane and Maura were sharing a bed. It made sense. They were very close. She had seen Jane go to great lengths a few months ago to bring Maura home safe. She has watched them comfort one another, and drop everything to rush to the other's side. But she hadn't seen this coming. And why was she the last to find out? She ruminated on this new information for a few minutes, before focusing on her backlogged paperwork. But her mind would wander every now and then as she tried to look for clues.

"What are you still doing here?" Frankie's voice startled her, making her turn to look behind her.

"I never seem to be caught up on my paperwork. You?"

"I came to start on the videos, maybe track down our witness." She ignored the small flutter in her chest as he brushed past her to get to his seat. Today of all days, she didn't need to be dealing with the confusion that feeling brought.

Pressing a few buttons, Nina pulled up the still of him at the bus stop, waving at the driver. "Beat you to it." Frankie approached the screen and watched the video as it played. "And I called Jane about two hours ago to give her the lead."

"You really have been here all night. Is everything okay?" He sat back, a look of concern on his face.

"If it's okay, I'd rather not talk about it." She looked back at her screen, switching back to paperwork. Frankie, to his credit, backed off immediately, not pushing the subject. "Although I do need to ask you a question."

"Shoot."

She grinned, remembering the conversation from hours before. "How long have Jane and Maura been a thing?"

This piqued his interest, and he leaned forward in his chair, his expression serious. "What do you mean? What do you know? Do you know how long it's been a thing? Because I'm next in the pool."

"There's a pool?"

Frankie backed away, his face contorting in fake confusion. "What pool? Who said anything about a pool?" This made Nina laugh, shaking her head and turning her chair to face him. Once he was done with his unconvincing act, he continued, his eyes wide. "You never did tell me what you know."

"When I called Jane, they were sharing a bed." Although she found this very interesting, Frankie dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "What do you mean? That's not good enough?"

"Jane has more sleepovers with Maura than she ever had as a teenage girl. It's an everyday occurrence."

Nina's eyes widened as she took in this info. "So they are always spending the night together, but aren't an item. Why?"

"Have you met my sister? She's stubborn."

Laughing, Nina responded. "Accurate."

"And we don't think Maura's realized it yet. But when she does, she won't be able to keep that secret for long."

Nina nodded. "Understood. I promise, if I hear anything, I'll let you know."

Pointing at her with his eyebrows raised, Frankie responded, "You better." Giggling, Nina stretched, finally feeling what the all-nighter had done to her back. She tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a yawn. Looking back at the screen, the lines were blurred. Frankie, taking notice, spoke softly. "Do you need a ride home?"

His voice barely registered, she only really heard him after turning to face him and giving the words a second to sink in. "I can Uber. I planned for this."

He couldn't hide his look of concern, but again, he didn't push it. "Okay. If you need anything, you've got my number. Go home and get some sleep."

It was almost six, the sun was just rising. She made it through her night. Reluctantly, she closed her paperwork, admitting defeat as she yawned once more. "I'll be back later today. I'm gonna freshen up a bit, take a little nap."

"Well, you may have cracked the case, so I'd say you deserve it. Text me when you get home, alright?"

She only nodded as she gathered her things, waving once as she left. Her Uber driver was not a talker, which she was thankful for. As she collapsed into bed she sent Frankie a quick home message. As she assumed the right side of the bed, she imagined Marcus on the other side, the slope of his form, the way he covered everything but the tip of his bald head with the covers. It made her ache. For a minute, she thought maybe she would skip that emotion for the day. And for just a split second, she was jealous. Because Jane and Maura had someone in bed with them who loved them. They just didn't know it yet.

[plaidbooks]

Everyone Deserves Love chapter 8

A/N: This starts with a little bit of fluffy cuteness, but don’t let that fool you! Jenkins coming in hot, and then it switches to angst. And it stays angst. So heads up, it’s gonna be angst for a bit haha.

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Tags: none, outside of feelings, oh, I guess minor character death that was mentioned in one line

Words: 6k+

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba (lemme know if you want to be tagged!)

Apartment of Rafael Barba

Saturday, May 2nd. 5:00am

Devon woke up at 5am sharp, as usual, even after being up over 24 hours the day before. She uncurled on the couch, stretching while standing, then went through her morning routine: exercise, shower, dress. She tried to be as quiet as possible, since Barba was still asleep, and she planned to let him sleep in a little, their deal from the previous night. Normally on weekends, he would stumble out of his room around 8am. Glancing at the clock, it was still early; only 6:30. Devon planned on making coffee to go with the breakfast, so she decided that 8am would be the safest time to start it. Until then, though, she’d work on the abandoned report from last night, while trying to ignore the thoughts that had stopped that report. Having those types of thoughts helped no one and was wildly unprofessional. So, she shoved her feelings away, focusing on the events from the past two days instead.

Time flew by and 8am came faster than she thought it would, with no signs of life from Barba’s room. She still got up from the couch, report done, and started the French press. While waiting for the water to heat up, she went to the FBI database, trying to check on the last 12 Aces in the city. She looked up from her laptop when she heard Barba’s door open; she didn’t even hear him shower, yet his hair was still damp from the spray. He was in nice slacks and a plain polo shirt; his “casual” attire, unlike his “weekend” suits. It was always a little treat seeing someone who was normally in expensive suits dressing in something…not as expensive. Casual. He still looked damn good, though.

“Good morning,” Devon chirped, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Coffee?”

“Please,” he grumbled. Even when he slept in, Rafael Barba was not a morning person. Devon grinned, pouring him a cup, and adding the appropriate amount of sugar that she knew he liked. She noticed, somewhere deep down, that she liked their almost…domestic tendencies. It made sense, with how much time they spent together, but it was still nice to have these little shared things. It was like his home was hers’, too. Which was comforting. And absolutely terrifying.

“Here you go,” she said, passing him the hot liquid.  He gratefully took a deep pull, letting the caffeine waken him. He went to the fridge, pulling out an assortment of vegetables and a carton of eggs. He set about making breakfast, an omelet with sautéed vegies; Devon hovered in the kitchen, but her attention was on her laptop, still researching.

“So, what time were you up today?” Barba asked casually.

“Uh, 5am?” Devon replied.

Barba shot her a look. “I thought we agreed to sleep in today. Why were you up so early?”

“I—I’m always up at 5. I have an internal clock, wakes me up,” she explained.

“Everyday?”

“Correction, almost always. Sometimes I’m up at 4.”

Barba looked shocked first, then concerned. “We go to bed so late; why the hell do you wake up so early? And how the hell are you so perky in the morning?”

Devon thought about it. “I’ve been waking up before the sun for a while, now, couple years, actually. Guess it’s just habit.” She gave him a playful smile. “The perkiness is all me, baby.”

Barba ignored the joke, all serious. “Years? That cannot be healthy. Have you talked to anyone about this?”

Devon took a sip of coffee, swirled it in her mouth before swallowing. “After doing a UC, it’s mandatory to talk to a therapist. So yes, I did ‘talk to someone’ about it…. Especially because it seemed to start a week into that assignment.” Barba flipped the omelet he was making. It looked like he was going to question further, so Devon cut him off. “Yes, both my therapist and I believe that it’s from stress. I—I think I’m just…” she took a deep breath; saying it out loud was acknowledging it. But it was also good to get it out of her mind. “I’m just afraid; my brain needs to be on alert at all times. I know it sounds silly, but people like you—victims--deserve to have 24/7 protection, but I can only give you 20 at most. I’m a light sleeper; anyone breaking in and I’ll hear it. But I don’t think that’s really good enough; it leaves at least 4 hours where you’re open, exposed, especially with the fire escape in your room.” Barba took the omelet out of the pan, placing it skillfully on a plate, and passing it to Devon. She took it gratefully, blowing on it before taking a bite. It was delicious. Is there anything he can’t do?

Barba sighed as he went back to the pan, starting on his own food. “Devon, I know that no one wants to hear it, but you are human. No one, including you, can stay awake and alert 24/7. Hell, even 20/7 is insane. I’m glad that this whole mess is almost over.” He flinched inwardly as soon as the words left his mouth. And the look on Devon’s face was a punch to the gut; it was only there for a split second before she went back to a neutral expression. But he felt it, too; as much as he would like life to go back to normal, he really didn’t want to lose her, lose this. Not yet.

“It will be nice to sleep in my own bed again,” Devon joked, though her voice fell a little flat. She knew that it was inevitable; she’d have to leave him eventually, go on with her work and life. But she really, really, didn’t want to think about that. She was disappointed that he was already there in his thoughts, that he was wishing for it.

Barba finished cooking his own food, standing at the counter next to Devon. They ate in relative silence, besides complimenting each other on the food and coffee, and idly talking about heading to the park afterwards.

“Oh shit, I need to call Liv,” Devon said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. Olivia picked up on the second ring.

“Hey Dev, everything alright?” she asked.

Devon chuckled, shaking her head. “Of course. Just wanted to let you know that Barba and I were going to Central Park for a little. Get some fresh air after the mess from the past couple days.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? You don’t think that you’ll be sitting ducks?”

“There’s only 12 Aces left, and I think after what happened with Marco, we should be good.” Devon waited a moment before adding on, “I’ll be armed, we’ll be safe.”

Liv sighed. “For one thing, I forgot to text you last night; we caught 5 more Aces in a raid last night. So now the magic number is 7. And second, I’ll station some extra unis in the park, just to be sure. The remaining members may be getting desperate, since there’s not many left.”

“That’s good to know. I’ll let Barba know, and I’ll keep my eyes open,” Devon replied. She hung up, then, and relayed the information to Barba.

“Hm, SVU must be busy; Liv doesn’t normally forget to inform us like that,” he said.

Devon agreed. “We can always stop by later today, see what’s up.” Barba nodded.

They finished their food quickly, suddenly eager to get out into fresh air. Barba’s loft was only two blocks from Central Park, so it was a short walk there, but before they even hit the park, they were already more relaxed, basking in the warm, sunny day. There’s something about getting out of the house, even for a simple walk, that was refreshing. It seemed like the tension, the heaviness, from the last two days lifted, and they joked and laughed, conversation flowing easily. They made it to a trail that went by the water, and just enjoyed each other’s presence. They talked about nothing, really, just idle small talk.  Devon did surreptitiously watch every person within eyesight; she saw at least 6 cops the first ten minutes there, two on bikes and the rest on foot. But no one looked suspicious, only suburban moms with their strollers, joggers, couples walking through the park. They wandered the trail for about an hour, slowly getting closer together, though neither of them noticed. It wasn’t until Devon’s hand brushed against his that they realized how close they were. They stopped walking, half turning to each other, Devon’s cheeks flushing, an apology on her tongue. Barba opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a woman screaming.

Devon was a flurry of movement, embarrassment from the simple touch forgotten. Her first instinct was to shove Barba behind her, turning towards the noise. It took a moment for the woman’s words to process in her adrenaline-clogged brain.

“Help! He stole my purse!” she yelled, pointing. A man dressed like a burglar from a shitty movie, complete with loose jeans, a black hoodie with the hood pulled up, and dark sunglasses, was running on the path that Devon and Barba were currently on, a tan purse clutched in his hand. As the man tried to push passed them, Barba stuck out his leg. The man got caught on his foot and went down, slamming into the ground, glasses flying off his face.

“Great reflexes,” Devon said, jokingly, giving him a half-grin. She knelt down, grabbing his hands and pulling them behind his back. “Senior Special Agent Motely, FBI,” she informed the man. She grabbed the purse from his clutches and handed it to Barba.

“Did you doubt me?” Barba smirked back. He took the purse, looking towards the woman who had alerted them. She was on her way over, as well as the two bike cops. Barba handed over the purse, and Devon let the unis cuff the man. Devon noticed Barba’s hands were shaking; he must still be feeling anxious from the past couple days for this small action to affect him so.

“Come on,” Devon said, giving him a soft smile. She took Barba’s shaking hand, ignoring the jolt of electricity she felt from touching his burning skin, and led him away from the scene at a slow jog. She was hoping that a short jog would burn off the extra energy coursing through both of their veins. She led him out of the park and towards a small café across the street; one of her favorite spots.

“That was…surprisingly fun,” Barba chuckled, trying to catch his breath. Devon laughed with him; at least he had stopped shaking.

“Oh no, please stay as a lawyer. Don’t switch to cop,” Devon replied, feigning concern at his life choices.

“Why not? Afraid that I’d take your job?”

“No, but I think the power would go to your already inflated head.”

Barba scoffed as if offended. “Don’t lie; I’d outrank you in a week.”

“And there’s that ego I mentioned.” They chuckled, before a waitress came out to them. They both ordered a coffee—Devon got a pastry, too--and resigned to people watching while they waited for her to come back.

“To be honest, though, I am glad that we were able to help that woman out,” Devon said.

Barba agreed. “We got lucky that he ran towards the two people in the park that could help her.”

“That’s a little rude to the cops working in the park.”

Barba smirked. “But am I wrong?”

“Not at all,” she replied. Their coffee and food came just then, and they sat in silence, drinking and sharing the pastry. Devon broke the silence. “Today’s been really fun. I’m glad we decided to do this.”

“Me too. It’s nice getting out of the loft every now and again. To not worry about cases, files, rapes, murders, and traffickers.”

Devon nodded. “It does get…taxing, after a while. You have to find a balance in this line of work. It’s not always enough to just go home at the end of the day.”

Barba thought about what he wanted to say, how he wanted to say it. “I—I couldn’t imagine doing what you do. At least I get to go home at the end of the day. You just finished a three-year undercover op before this; you didn’t even get to go home. You didn’t get to talk to friends, hell you didn’t even have your own name. That sounds like a type of torture. And now, you still don’t get to go home.”

“At least I have some good company,” she smiled at him. She took a small bite of her pastry, then continued, “sometimes, it feels like torture. But you have to get so into your character, your fabricated life. You have to be invested in your fake job, fake friends, fake relationships. Sometimes, none of those things feel fake anymore. It’s just life…. I’ve learned that you need to have something, anything, that can pull you back to your real life.”

“What…what did you have?”

Devon’s cheeks turned red, though she tried to hide it by drinking her coffee. “You, uh, you got to promise me you will not tell a soul,” she said after putting her coffee down. She locked eyes with him. “I’m serious; no one must know of this, especially Olivia.”

Barba kept his face neutral, trying not to smile at how flustered Devon got, how cute she was when her face got all red like that. Was it really that bad? “Okay, I promise.”

Devon took a deep breath, let it out. Then she reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone. She popped the case off, pulling something out. In her hand was a small square of what looked like folded paper. She went about unfolding it, and Barba realized it wasn’t a piece of paper, but a photo. It was so worn, so creased, that it was obvious how often she had needed to look at it during her time undercover. Once unfolded, she handed it to Barba, looking away sheepishly, sipping at her coffee.

The picture was faded, even though it was timestamped as only four years ago. It was a snapshot of what looked like a fun night in a dark bar. Devon was on the left, wearing a plastic top hat that read “Happy New Year’s! 2010” and with a drink in hand. She looked like she was laughing in the picture. Hanging on her, arm wrapped around the people on either side of her, was Olivia. It looked like she was trying to have them hold her up, but her face showed that it wasn’t happening. The photographer must have gotten her mid-fall—her mouth was open in a comical “O” shape. Barba only knew the man on the right because Olivia had showed her pictures before; his name was Elliot Stabler, Liv’s old partner. He wore a hat matching Devon’s, and it looked like Olivia was taking him down with her. His mouth was open in surprise, though a smile tugged at the corners. It was a great picture of three friends enjoying the start of the new year. Barba hated that he felt a pang of loneliness and jealousy looking at it. He looked up from the picture to find Devon watching him, cheeks still red.

“That was the first time since my childhood that I had celebrated my birthday; that I even had friends to celebrate with,” Devon explained, taking the photo back and gazing at it lovingly.

“Your birthday is New Year’s Eve?”

“Day, actually,” she corrected. She took one last look, then folded it up, stuffing it back into the phone case, popping it back on and replacing it in her pocket.

Barba wasn’t quite sure what to say. He was glad she had people to celebrate with, but also felt sad that it took her so long to find that kind of acceptance in her life. “Thank you for sharing that with me,” he said softly. There was nothing else to say. He was touched that she had opened up to him, had shown him something so personal.

Like in the park, they were both so enraptured in their thoughts that they stopped paying attention to their surroundings, especially their body language. They both had the same, stupid grin on their faces, as they stared into each other’s eyes. Barba had his hand on the table between them, and Devon didn’t even realize that she had placed hers on top of it. They were slowly leaning closer to each other, lost in the depths of their eyes, the closeness that they felt. Thinking about how today was a perfect date, yet neither would admit to the other that it even was one; it was just a walk in the park between friends. Sharing an intimate secret between friends. Holding hands, sharing a pastry, leaning closer, heads tilting, eyes closing…as friends….

Devon’s phone started ringing loudly, and they both jumped back, ripping their hands off the table. Devon fished her phone back out of her pocket, heart beating wildly. What just happened?

Barba looked flushed and a little…disappointed, grabbing his coffee and taking a sip, adverting his eyes. Devon looked at her phone screen, seeing her boss’s name lighting up across it.

“Uh oh…” she mumbled before answering. “Motely.”

“Is there a reason that NYPD’s Internal Affairs just handed me a file on you shooting a man two days ago?” Jenkins asked. He wasn’t angry; he just sounded tired.

Shit. “Oh, I meant to call you about that, sir,” Devon replied, heart still pounding. Her mind was going a mile a minute, stuck between thoughts of shooting Marco, IAB, and almost, maybe, about to kiss a certain counselor who was still avoiding her eyes. “You see, it’s a long story….”

“Well, you’d better come in and explain it to me, then.”

Devon looked to Barba, sipping innocently at his coffee. How much coffee does he still have? “Uh, permission to bring a civilian?” He finally looked at her at that, brow furrowed.

Jenkins sighed; he knew better than to ask questions. “Granted. Get here. Now.” And with that, he hung up.

Devon slowly put her phone down. She looked deeply into Barba’s green eyes. “Ever wanted to go to the FBI Headquarters?”

FBI Headquarters

Saturday, May 2nd. 12:37pm

Devon led Barba into the elevator leading to her boss’s office, his visitor badge bouncing off his chest.

“This is not what I had planned today when we agreed on a day off,” he mumbled, the doors closing behind them. Devon smirked.

“Sorry about this. I could’ve left you with a detective, if you really wanted. Or you can go back to the lobby; one of the field agents can watch you.”

Barba scoffed. “I’m not a child for you to pass around.”

“Then stop complaining like one,” she replied. He glared at her, and she stuck her tongue out in response. The elevator doors dinged and opened, and Devon led him down the long hallway to Jenkins’s office.

“Come in,” he said before she even had a chance to knock. Barba gave her a look, eyebrows raised. She shrugged in a yeah, that’s normal way, then opened the door for him, following him in. Jenkins kept his office space neat, tidy; a desk with two monitors, a couple of full bookshelves, and a small conference table in the corner. Although he was the Assistant Director, in charge of multiple sectors of field agents, he still didn’t spend much time in his office, usually only resigning to the space at night or on weekends to do paperwork. Much like Olivia, he worked his way up from field agent, and his heart and mind were still out in the field. He had trouble sitting still for too long, and was often out of the office, running teams or even in the field himself as much as possible. Which was why everyone respected him, whether they liked him or not.

“Counselor,” Jenkins said in his deep voice, nodding to Barba, before turning back to Devon. “Motely, report.”

Devon took a deep breath, then filled him in on everything that had happened since the end of January, starting from the night she met Barba, to talking to Olivia, to accepting the 24/7 protection of the ADA. “I honestly didn’t think it would be this…extensive,” Devon finished, lacking a better word. It was true, though; she knew what 24/7 protection was like, but she had only ever done it for a weekend at most. Never for months at a time. And though she knew that there was the chance of it lasting longer than she thought, it was different talking about it and actually doing it.

“So, this shooting of Marco Sorrel was in defense of Mr. Barba here,” Jenkins replied, looking at the case file from IAB.

“Yes sir.”

“And this protection order is still in effect? That’s why you brought him here, I take it?”

“Yes sir.” Devon felt Barba tense next to her; she had almost forgot he was there. He had said nothing since coming into the office. He knew when to bite his tongue.

“For how much longer? I need my top agent back to work.”

That knocked the wind out of Devon’s sails. It was the confirmation that after this was over, she would be going right back to work for the FBI. She wasn’t surprised, but it did solidify her resolve; she could not have a relationship with Barba, regardless of their feelings. She basically already told him as much that one day they talked a little too loosely about relationships.

“To my knowledge, there’s only 7 more Aces active in the city. Once they’re arrested, and the hit on Barba is off, I’ll be cleared for work again, sir,” Devon informed him.

Jenkins smirked. “Only 7? Tell that SVU Sergeant that I’ll make sure it’s taken care of before the weekend is over. I want to see you here, bright and early, on Monday morning; there’s a sex-trafficking ring I need you in on.”

Devon felt her stomach drop, her world crumbling. But she kept her face neutral, her voice steady. “Y-yes sir,” she said. Hearing the dismissal in his voice, she turned, Barba following suit, and left the office.

Apartment of Rafael Barba

Saturday, May 2nd. 3:05pm

“So, are we going to talk about it?” Barba finally asked from the kitchen. They both had been silent leaving the Bureau, and even more distant on the ride back to Barba’s loft. They tried small talk, but it sizzled out after a couple words. They both resigned to doing their own thing; Devon researching on her laptop, Barba doing the dishes from breakfast.

“Talk about what?” Devon replied, but she knew. Of course, she did. But she wanted to hear him say it.

Barba sighed, turning off the water. He placed the last pan on the drying rack, drying his hands off before coming to stand in the doorway. “Let’s be adults about this. Please. You know what,” when Devon stayed silent, Barba continued, “about what happened, well, what almost happened at the café. About the fact that you’re going to be leaving soon. About…about where that leaves us.”

Devon’s heart fluttered when he said “us.” God, she wanted there to be an “us” so damn badly. But she couldn’t force herself to take that leap, to fully commit to him. How could she, when both of their schedules were so busy, so crazy? Jenkins said it himself; she was about to go right back into the field. She could be gone for months, years at a time. She could be hurt or worse. How could she possibly hurt Barba like that, put him through that?

“The café was a mistake,” she said as flatly as she could. She stared at his chest, not able to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, Rafael, but there isn’t an ‘us.’ This is a job, and once it’s over, I’m back to working with the Bureau.” Devon was glad that there were no tears in her eyes; her years of training, of becoming personas were coming in handy, even if her own heart was breaking at her words. She dared a glance into Barba’s face.

He was crestfallen, his face falling. He had been sure, was positive, that she had felt the same way about him. Especially when they brushed hands in the park, when they almost kissed in the café. It took him weeks and weeks to build up the courage to make a move, and when her hand had enveloped his at that table, he knew that that was his moment. Then that damned phone call happened. And then, that damned meeting with her boss! And now she was going to leave him, by tomorrow if her boss was correct. That’s why he had to tell her, he had to know if she had felt the same.

“I thought you said that we were friends. That you cared about me,” he said softly. God, he sounded desperate, pathetic, even to himself.

Devon’s eyes softened, if only for a moment. “You are, and I do. But Barbs, we can’t be any more than that. You know that, right?” Her resolve was shaking under his intense stare. She could see him caving in on himself, his shoulders slumping slightly, his head falling, knees bending. His whole body language just screamed defeated. And she was the one delivering the blows.

He took a deep breath, stiffening his spine, raising his head; the prosecutor heading into a losing battle. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be putting you in this kind of situation. Forget I mentioned it.” With that, he made his way down the hallway and into his room, closing his door softly behind him. Devon opened her mouth but couldn’t think of anything to say.

Great, she thought. There goes that friendship. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, though; it made things a little less awkward. And it made her leaving easier. Plus, it’d be just like one of her many one-night stands anyways. No attachments: just cut all ties when she left. And leave the broken pieces of her heart behind.

As if the timing couldn’t be more perfect, Devon got an incoming call, from Olivia.

“Motely,” she answered, trying to sound professional.

“Devon! Great news: all the Aces have been rounded up and delivered to the NYPD. Did you call in the Feds to help?” Olivia asked.

Devon smiled grimly. “No, but my boss did offer his assistance after getting IAB’s report.”

“Well, he certainly assisted. Also, I just got a report that said that an hour ago, the Aces in Rikers got in a fight with the 32nd street gang in the prison courtyard. Jorge Ramirez was killed in the scuffle,” Olivia paused, letting her words sink in. “To our knowledge, the hit on Barba has been called off; you can go home, now.”

Devon sat in silence, trying to figure out what the hell the bombardment of emotions she felt was; it was all too much, too quickly. “Devon? You there?” she heard Liv say.

“Yeah, yeah sorry, I’m here. That’s…that’s great news, Liv. I’ll be sure to tell Barbs; I’m sure he’ll be relieved.”

They talked for a few more minutes before Devon made an excuse to hang up, citing the fact that she needed to pack and go grocery shopping before heading home. She sighed heavily, rubbing her hands over her face, but she stood and started collecting her small number of possessions.

“It’s done, isn’t it?” a voice came from down the hallway. Devon stopped, but didn’t turn to look.

“Yes; all the Aces have been arrested. Plus, Ramirez was shanked in a prison fight, so the hit’s been called off,” she turned to look at the man now, “congratulations, Barbs. You’re no longer a marked man.”

The door to his bedroom was wide open and Barba was leaning casually against the doorframe. Well, as casually as he could; his body was tight with tension, as much as he tried to hide it, and if Devon looked closely, she could see a small red ring around his eyes. He gave a stiff nod, peeling himself off the doorframe and coming out into the living room. Devon finished packing her things, zipping up her grip and slinging it over her shoulder. She felt a slew of emotions run through her; she needed to get out of there, but she was rooted to the spot.

“When will I see you again?” Barba murmured. It was barely a whisper, so quiet that it was hard to tell if he actually said it, or if Devon imagined it.

She gave him a soft smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sure we’ll end up working on a case together at some point…I do help SVU from time to time,” she replied quietly. He gave her another stiff nod, not trusting himself to speak. She no longer trusted her own voice, and turned away, unable to look at his face anymore. She felt tears spring to her eyes, and she blinked them away rapidly, swallowing past the lump in her throat. Devon made her way to the front door, unlocking it, opening it slowly.

“Wait,” Barba finally choked out. Devon froze at the door, one foot already in the hallway. She looked over her shoulder at him, eyes softening for a moment. His mouth opened and closed a couple times, but no sound came out.

She gave him a small smile. “Stay safe,” she whispered, and then she was gone.

 *********************

Devon didn’t go straight home. It was still early in the evening; the sun still hadn’t set, and it was still warm out. She also didn’t call a cab; instead opting to simply wander the streets, the grip slung over her shoulder soon forgotten as her mind, too, began to wander. She made it a full block before the tears began to flow, slowly at first, but then soon falling freely. She let them, ignoring the stares from strangers she walked by. It was good to let it all out, especially here, outdoors, rather than in her own space. She did wander in the general direction of her apartment—she lived about a 30-minute walk from Barba’s loft—and she took her time, weaving in and out of the streets. Finally, with the sun setting, and her shoulder growing sore from the weight, she made her way home.

 *********************

Apartment of Devon Motely

Saturday, May 2nd. 7:35pm

After her undercover op in California, Devon had the cleaners from the FBI clean her place so that it wasn’t dusty or gross. This was not the case with the past three months with Barba; the place had obviously not been inhabited. Dust covered every surface, there was a weird smell that wasn’t there before, and it was stuffy. Devon sighed, having no motivation to clean anything, emotionally drained. She looked at the clock and sighed again, realizing she hadn’t eaten anything besides breakfast and the little pastry at the café by the park, right before everything fell apart. She should eat, but she didn’t feel hungry. She didn’t really feel anything right now except for emptiness…a longing, and a loneliness that she hadn’t felt in years.

She went to her room and checked her bed, sniffing the sheets. They smelled musty, and she knew she couldn’t sleep in that. She stripped the sheets and threw them on the floor in the corner; that was a tomorrow problem. She went to her closet and pulled out her back-up sheets but couldn’t bring herself to make the bed. Instead, she threw them on the bed in a heap and made her way to the kitchen. Hungry or not, she should eat something, especially if she planned on drinking—and she did plan on drinking; maybe it would help lessen some of the emptiness, though she knew, deep down, that that was a load of crap.

First things first, she looked in her liquor cabinet, finding some cheap whiskey. Fingers crossed, she looked in her fridge and, hallelujah, she found an unopened bottle of Coca Cola. She quickly made herself a strong drink, then took another look in the fridge. No food to be found. She checked her pantry next. A couple cans of soup and some long-expired rice. She winced, remembering that she had been gone for over three years now; she really needed to go grocery shopping tomorrow.

Sighing, she grabbed a box of instant rice and opened it. It wasn’t fuzzy or discolored, so she presumed it was fine. The alcohol she was drinking would kill anything in it, anyways. While waiting for the water to boil, she unpacked her grip, throwing the clothes in a laundry bin, plugging in her laptop, and taking out her toiletries, to be replaced with new ones tomorrow. She went back to the kitchen, grabbed a notepad, and started making a list of foods. Once done, she had a thought, and went to her supply closet. After checking the small amount of cleaners she had, she added ones she needed to the list too. She was on autopilot, thoughts blank, afraid to stop moving. Actions kept her thoughts at bay. Speaking of moving, she realized that she could finally go back to the gym tomorrow morning, something that she thought she’d be excited for, but in this state, it was a dull thought. She dreaded the pain she’d be in tomorrow—her little morning routine wasn’t intense enough to replace a gym workout—but knew it would be worth it in the end.

Satisfied with her list, Devon took her food and drink, then sat in her living room. She didn’t like how the apartment didn’t seem…familiar, not in the way she was used to, or how his had felt. Even with her work, she had lived in this apartment for about seven years now, and it was always a welcome relief coming home. Now, it was like a piece was missing. Suddenly, the silence was pushing in on her, deafening her. She lunged for the TV remote, turned on whatever sports station she could find, and sat there, picking at her rice as the announcers were droning on about…the Mets. It didn’t really matter what was on, as long as there was continuous talking, hence, sports.

It didn’t take long, though, before the monotone voices seemed to tune out of her consciousness. Devon finished her food and drink, went back to the kitchen to dispose of her dishes, and brought the whiskey and coke back to the couch with her. She quickly lost count of drinks, thinking more and more about, well, everything that happened the past couple months. She remembered the first night she had met the ADA, before she knew who he was. She thought about how he didn’t want her help at first, how he had told Olivia that he didn’t need her. How she had made a deal with him that she’d never bother him again afterwards.

She thought about those first few weeks together, about how they were awkward around each other, learning about each other. She thought about how fascinated she was the first time she watched him in court, the pride and awe the first time he won a conviction. She remembered how his eyes lit up, how he set his jaw when he ran through his arguments with her in his office. She remembered how his green eyes conveyed concern when she got stabbed in the shoulder. She remembered his little smirk when he found something amusing. She wondered when she noticed all these little things about him.

She was shocked when she felt the tears on her cheeks, didn’t notice them pooling in her eyes. So, what if she loved him? It wasn’t going to work; she knew that! She had to move on with her life, let him move on, too. He deserved someone who could love him with their whole heart, who could be there for him when he needed them. She couldn’t be that person; she was always on call, and it was never a guarantee that see would come home at night.

Devon let out a loud sniffle, trying to control her emotions. It was final; she would forget about Rafael Barba. She would get a good night sleep, clean her apartment tomorrow, and then go back to work on Monday. And that was that. She finished her drink, wiped the tears out of her eyes, then went to her room. She saw the sheets clumped on her bed and let out a frustrated scream.

[reidology]

He Was A Skater Boy... (Chapter 4) (Hotch/Reid)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner / Spencer Reid

Summary: Aaron and Spencer's first study session turns into something... cuddlier?

Word Count: 1,638

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Chapter 4: Spirits in my room, friend or foe?    

  Okay. This is fine. This is fine. Spencer is not freaking out. Sitting on Aaron’s bed, staring at the Blink-182 poster stuck to the wall behind a bong and- is that a fucking encyclopedia? - surrounded by the sights and smells of one incredibly intoxicating Aaron Hotchner. Spencer is decidedly not freaking out. No matter what the sweat on his brow may indicate. 

    The little alarm clock on Aaron’s desk was ticking ticking ticking, counting down from 30 with 5 minutes left. 5 minutes left. 

   They were studying. Well, Aaron was studying. Spencer was tutoring. Spencer was tutoring Aaron and Aaron was studying at his desk right now filling out a practice test that took Spencer no more than two minutes to write up and now he was waiting in silence for him to finish. Not freaking out.

    Nothing had happened when they got to the dorm. Aaron had simply shown him around the small room by pointing at things. “Bed. Desk. Bathroom. Welcome to the lavish lifestyle of a broke college student.” 

  What had immediately caught Spencer’s eye was the plethora of books strewn about the room. These books weren’t the boring law manuals that you’d expect a law student to have in their dorm (those were just kept on the desk). These were worn out and used classic novels, Dickens and Dickinson… biographies, Dahmer, Bundy… mystery novels, Aaron had the whole David Rossi collection! That alone could have made Spencer swoon.

The next thing he noticed was Aaron pulling his shirt off and replacing it with a comfy Columbia University sweatshirt. It was in times like these that Spencer really was so grateful to have an eidetic memory, because though Aaron’s bare chest was only visible for a second, that was all he needed for the memory to be ingrained in his mind forever. Aaron hadn’t even mentioned it, just threw an Introduction To Criminal Law manual at his chest and said, “This is what we’re doing this week, gonna help me?”, so the younger boy closed his mouth, sat on the unmade bed, and read the manual in just a few minutes.

While he wrote the quiz questions down, Aaron had asked him if he even needed to read words or if his supercomputer brain just processed everything without any effort. Spencer felt the need to point out that one doesn’t really need to read texts word for word, your brain will comprehend the information before you even realize you’re reading, but Aaron had already moved on to another subject, stating that his brain must be like Spongebob’s. When Spencer had furrowed his eyebrows and pouted, Aaron explained that Spongebob’s brain was like an office, full of filing cabinets and little versions of himself running around screaming. Followed by a quieter “How have you never watched Spongebob?”

 “Hah, the screaming part is actually quite accurate, it seems my mind is in a constant state of distress,” Spencer retorted.

“Are you distressed right now?”

“That would be  what the ‘constant’ part of my statement implied, yes.”

“Smartass.”

“I’m a genius, Aaron”

Aaron only chuckled and rolled his eyes, “Why are you distressed?”

His eyes darted around the room, not daring to look Aaron in the eyes, how was he supposed to tell him he was nervous because everything that’s happened in the past few hours was so far out of his depths? He only shrugged and mumbled, “New environment, I guess.”

“Well, what can I do to make you feel comfortable? How do you usually relax?”

The response was immediate, “I read.”

“Tell you what, after I finish studying we can sit down and read for a bit. Get you used to this ‘new environment’, after all, you’ll be here a lot. I’m a terrible test-taker.” 

Spencer smiled, “Sounds good, and you can’t be that bad.” 

He got back to writing the questions. The manual covered the basics of what crime is as a concept and the structure of criminal justice. Things that Spencer already knew from reading several manuals and books on his own time. He wasn’t lame, it’s just that technical manuals tend to be more fun and informative than reading Pride and Prejudice for the seventh time, Mom. Nonetheless, he attempted to make the questions easy, just to get a sense of where Aaron was at so that they could focus on his problem areas. Spencer was good at studying.

Aaron sat at his desk to take the test, hunching over and biting at the tip of his pencil. The timer was set to half an hour but during his silent not-freak-out Spencer noticed he only wrote for seven minutes and spent the rest of the time erasing and rewriting. The timer sounded and brought his consciousness back to the forefront. He took the paper Aaron handed him and took a few seconds to look it over.

           Fuck. It was bad. So bad. Spencer tried to keep a neutral face on but Aaron had gotten every question wrong and the answers were so underdeveloped it was like grading a kid’s spelling quiz. Distressed, he looked up to Aaron’s pure innocent unsuspecting perfect face. 

“Aaron… These are all wrong… For ‘define crime in your own words’ you just put ‘when bad people do bad things’...”

 “Oh..shit. God, I am such a doofus. How will I ever pass these midterms?” Aaron’s grin was wicked.

Spencer rolled his eyes and shoved the paper to Aaron’s chest. He had a feeling the skater was smarter than he let on… 

“It’s getting late, I should go… We’ll work on your ‘answers’ next time.”

 A flash of worry crossed Aaron's face, but Spencer must have imagined it. They’d just spent hours together, surely he was getting sick of him. He started packing his things, but Aaron interrupted him, “Wait…” Aaron’s hand on his wrist stopped him from packing any further, “Stay the night. Besides, I promised you we’d read, right? I am a man of my word, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer couldn’t keep the shy smile off his face, he knew he had to say yes or he’d regret it. Not only that but Penelope would never let him live it down. 

“You did promise, and we can’t have you start breaking promises now, it would hurt my feelings.” At Spencer’s fake pout, Aaron grinned, pushed him gently back onto the bed  and said, “Show me what you’re reading today.” 

 -------------------------------- 

After about 45 minutes of reading side by side on the bed, Spencer reading a technical book on the life cycle of the praying mantis and Aaron mostly watching Spencer while pretending to read a JFK biography, the older man decided he’d had enough of the silence. Don’t get him wrong, he was immensely enjoying staring at Spencer's lips mouthing the words and at his long fingers as he flipped a page every few seconds, but he wasn’t into this silence.

  “What is that?” He reached out for a book that was peeking out from Spencer's satchel on the bed. It was rather large in height and had gorgeous red art on the cover. It looked quite old, quite important.

“Oh, that’s 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea by Jules Verne”

Aaron let out a grunt of understanding, urging Spencer to go on, “It’s a classic. It was published in  1870 and was groundbreaking for its time. 20,000 leagues is roughly 50,000 miles and it’s the depths that the Captain of a futuristic submarine captain and three adventurers travel to. They encounter monsters and new landscapes, it’s actually the book that we get a lot of adventure tropes from today. You know Nemo the fish?” 

Aaron nodded. 

“Well, that name comes from Captain Nemo from the book. Jules Vernes wrote a lot of influential novels, like Around The World In 80 Days which I’m sure you’ve heard of.” 

 At that he nodded again. The story sounded interesting, and Spencer seemed to have a deep interest in it. Besides, Aaron could listen to this boy talk all day.

Aaron bit his lip timidly, “It sounds really lovely, why don’t you read it to me?”

Spencer was taken aback for a second but quickly erased the shock from his features. That might have been the most seductive sentence he’d ever heard, and it came from Aaron’s mouth. Even better. 

Trying not to show his nerves, Spencer smiled and said “Of course.”

He set his and Aaron’s books down, took out the Jules Vernes from his bag, and settled underneath a blanket. Aaron helped himself to a share of the blanket, and usually Spencer would feel uncomfortable being so close to someone, but he noticed he didn’t mind at all. He began to read, ‘The year 1866 was signalised by a remarkable incident…’

 As Aaron listened intently to the story, the younger genius couldn’t help but notice that dark-haired man was staring at him. A big part of his insecurity was telling him that it was because he had something on his face, that Aaron was staring at him because he was a joke to be gawked at. But there was another blooming part of his brain that thought maybe, just maybe, Aaron Hotchner was staring at him because he thinks he’s pretty. 

At some point between Chapters five and six, Aaron’s head found Spencer’s shoulder, a bit after that Aaron’s eyes closed, but Spencer knew he was still listening because he’d let out a low chuckle once in a while that he could feel through his arm. Then Spencer’s own eyes began to feel heavy and his cheek found the top of Aaron’s soft hair. His words began to drawl and the book in his lap fell closed. Warm under the blanket, pressed close to his new friend, it just felt right to succumb to the black behind his eyelids.