#ignores his calls but shamefully texts him late a night

[emjiroki]

I swear the only Gojo fic I ever wrote was so self indulgent it makes me sick

[iloveboysinred]

WEST DISTRICT [Saturo Gojo]

18+ mdni | Gojo x fem reader smut, sequel to you've been missed

synopsis; The days following you and Gojo's encounter, nothing much had really changed. You didn't know how he always found his way into your life. One night, he decides to take you out, his heart on his sleeve as he tries to win you back.

cw; sappy Gojo, three seconds of possessive Gojo, shower sex, p in v sex, oral (fem receiving, Saturo is a munch, change my mind..) "stop running" kind of activities, porn with feelings, minimal use of y/n (I don't think I used it at all), smutty smut smut MDNI!!!!!!!!1 lmk if I missed anything, minimally proofread, written by an amateur :')

5.4k words

decided to rewrite this because I didn't like the first version at all, hope you enjoy sweet cookie bear readers :3 listened to this song while I wrote

masterlist

You had to admit slowly cutting Gojo out of your life was something you never thought possible to begin with.

All the time you had spent chasing after him and pining for his attention, you tried to now invest in yourself; improving your cursed technique, spending more time with your co-sorcerers, even indulging in new hobbies to keep yourself occupied. 

But it was hard to ignore him. He was everywhere all the time. 

Besides the few times where you would accidentally lock eyes, catching him glancing over at you on more than one occasion, you would hear chatter about him at Jujutsu Tech. Or irritatingly enough, your friends would ask questions about him, wondering why you never seemed to bring him up anymore. It seemed like no matter where you went, Gojo would follow. 

It was frustrating, trying to pretend he didn’t exist when he constantly made his presence in your world known, even if it wasn’t on purpose.

What made it worse was the fact that things hadn’t changed much from that night. Gojo still couldn’t find time in his schedule to text you, let alone call you. It stung, sure, but you weren’t the slightest bit surprised. The only thing you could say is that his gaze lingered on you longer than it used to, and he made somewhat more of an effort to try and communicate with you in person. It was nice, but you still felt like he wasn’t treating you as a priority.

“I just need you to be patient, okay?” 

His words from that night still buzzed around in your head, making you feel even more bitterness at the fact that since then he still hadn’t really made time for you. You thought maybe you were just overreacting, it had only been three days since the last time you had sex with him, and everyone knew he was a busy man. Knowing this you tried to be patient, but you just don’t know how much longer you could keep waiting. 

So, here you were, laying in bed cozied up and watching your favorite tv show. It was hard to pay attention, your mind elsewhere, the tv empty background noise to the thoughts coursing through your mind. It was late and you thought you’d probably be heading to bed soon, but you couldn’t sleep, distracted by anxiously glancing at your phone once in a while, just to end up disappointed when the screen remained blank. 

Your mind wandered over to Gojo, shamefully feeling giddy at the thought of him, his hair, his eyes, his body– down to the way he knew how to pleasure you so well. It was times like these that you wished he was there. 

The warmth in your chest almost made you feel pitiful, reminding yourself that he had to earn the right to have access to you. 

You gave your phone one last solemn glance before just deciding to pick it up, the stupidly cliché thought of “what's the worst that can happen?” convincing you to send Gojo a text.

“Saturday 7:30 A.M” “Good morning, pretty ❤️” “Good morning, toru” was the last exchange between the two of you before there had been radio silence on both ends. You stared at the texts for a second, pondering on what to send him. Should you ask what he was doing? No, it’s 8:00, what else could he be doing besides sitting at home? Maybe you should ask if he wanted to go out somewhere tomorrow– but then it would defeat the entire point of making him put in the effort. Your internal debate ended when your eyes caught the text bubble popping up on your screen. He was typing. You sat up a little in anticipation, turning your read receipts off just so he wouldn’t know you were stalking his messages.

“Heyyy pretty girl 🥰 whatcha doingggg?”

 You turned your phone off, setting it aside and trying to focus on the tv. Stopping yourself from responding too quickly. You ignored your phone when it pinged again, swallowing down your anxious excitement. You felt like a highschool girl fawning over your crush. It was almost embarrassing how hard you had to force down the urge to respond. 

But then it just kept going. Ping after ping until you caved in and checked your phone. 

“Toru <333 (26 new messages) “ 

Swiping up you gaped at the barrage of messages, the text bubble reappearing right as you opened the chat. 

“What is it, Gojo ? 26 messages is crazy.”

 “Read receipts off, baby? I knew you were ignoring me 😣” 

 “You’re one to complain. Sorry I'm not waiting hand and foot for you anymore.” 

You felt as if you were being unnecessarily cold, almost wanting to send a cheeky remark to soothe the sting of your response. But you didn’t, waiting patiently to see what he would say next. Afterall you were still on the fence about him, deciding a few rude words didn’t seem like a big deal compared to the way he has been acting for months now. 

“Ouch, pretty girl. You’re so mean to little ol’ me… anyways, I was wondering if you wanted to go out to eat with me tonight?” 

You looked down at yourself for a second, considering his offer. Your bed was comfortable and you didn’t really plan on going anywhere, your pajamas and tousled hair evidence of that. But then again, you were always cooped up in your apartment, and this kind of energy was exactly what you’d been asking him for. You texted him your agreement and he told you to be ready by 9. You’d taken your time getting ready, pampering yourself and making sure you looked nothing short of ravishing. You opted for a sleek navy cocktail dress and some black heels, your hair pinned and framing your face perfectly, your simple outfit paired with some light perfume, the elegant scent sure to attract some compliments on your night out. 

It was 9:10 when you heard a series of knocks on your door, signifying that Gojo had arrived. Glancing yourself over one last time, you opened the door to let him in. It seemed as though he had opted to keep it simple as well, wearing a plain white button up and some slacks, his blindfold gone in exchange for a simple pair of sunglasses. He greeted you, pulling a singular rose from behind his back and handing it over, a bright smile on his face. “You look amazing, y/n” he looked you over a couple of times, drinking you in. You gave him a small smile, setting the rose down on your countertop. The gesture made you want to melt, but you reminded yourself once again that this was just half a step towards him making everything up to you. 

“Well, let's go. Are you just gonna stand there, Gojo?” you quipped, impatient to get going. “Sorry, just wanted to check you out a bit, baby” He smirked when you rolled your eyes, grabbing your hand in his and leading you outside. 

The ride was getting to about 30 minutes from your place, you and Gojo driving through the city in comfortable silence. You would occasionally catch him throwing fleeting glances at you, his grip on the steering wheel tight. You could tell he was nervous about something, but you couldn’t figure out what it was. He wouldn’t tell you where you were going, or what he had planned. It was almost making your nerves act up as well, briefly wondering if he was planning to murder you or something. 

You pushed those thoughts away though, when you pulled up in front of a beautiful restaurant. It was cozy, warm lighting filtering through the blinds and jazz music faintly humming from the inside. White curtains flowing freely from the windows on the second floor balcony overlooking the city underneath. It was probably the nicest restaurant you’d ever been to. Making you confused when you noticed that nobody was inside, only a handful of waiters and waitresses standing behind the counter.

“Come on, pretty. I reserved the whole place for us.” You looked at him in mild shock, Gojo looking away from you to fumble with the car keys, turning the ignition off and stepping out, coming around to open your door and help you out of the passenger seat. The place looked so much prettier now that you were standing in front of it.  “Wow Gojo this is…a lot.” an anxious look briefly came over him, glancing between you and the building. “Is it too much?” you shook your head, offering him a shy smile. “It’s perfect, Gojo.. thank you.”

Walking in you were cheerily greeted by a waitress, bringing you up to the second floor to a balcony seat, placing down the two menus on the table. You barely caught the exchange of looks she and Gojo exchanged, the view in front of you capturing your attention almost immediately. You weren’t that high up, but you could still see the glittering lights from the buildings and skyscrapers in the distance. The breeze carried with it faint scents of food and the sounds of the city, blowing your hair out of your face, the flames from the candles dancing in the direction the wind was going. 

You could feel Gojo’s stare, and you turned to meet it. Locking eyes for a second before he hurriedly picked up the menu. 

“Gojo..” your voice was so sweet, warming his chest and encouraging him to peek at you from over the laminated piece of paper. You looked so beautiful, it took his breath away. So many questions and regrets swirling in his mind. How could he deny himself of you for so long? Why did he push you away when you were always right in front of him, waiting for him to be the person you deserved? He sighed, dropping the menu back down on the table, reaching over to grab your hand in his. “ I want to really apologize,” he knew he was starting in the right direction, but he just couldn’t get the words out, his anxiety of what you might say choking him up. 

“I should’ve never said those words to you that night– I should’ve been treating you better from the beginning, honestly. I want to ask for your forgiveness. You’re so much more to me than a booty call. I care for you. I really do. I don't care what the higher ups or anybody has to say. I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours.” His eyes bore into yours, heart dropping to his stomach when you pulled your hands away, looking at him with hesitation. He couldn’t blame you, though. The last thing he deserved from you was forgiveness. It was only fair that you broke his heart a fraction of how he had broken yours multiple times. 

“Honestly, Saturo.. I think it’ll take a little more than a few nice words and a pretty restaurant for you to erase everything you put me through. I need more effort from you. This is our first date ever and I've known you for years. I deserve better than a text here and there and a once in the blue moon call. I want you to change, okay? “ You stared at him imploringly, sitting up to wrap your arms around yourself. “ I’ve had feelings for you since I met you, but we never went anywhere. I’m just afraid you’re gonna keep wasting my time.. “ His chest tightened, bringing his hands back over, grabbing yours from their secure place in your arms. “Baby, I swear to you– on everything I love that I won’t. I’ll be the man you deserve. I’ll change and I'll be somebody that makes you happy, okay? Just give me one last chance.” 

Your face softened at his groveling, the expression of pure sincerity and pleading in his eyes making your heart clench with affection. It was so unlike him, to be so soft like this, and it felt good knowing he was doing it for you. “Okay..” he smiled at you, sweetly bringing your hand up to press a warm kiss to your knuckles. “Okay, baby.”

The night went by smoothly, you chatted, ate, danced and laughed. It was getting late now, and when you were readying yourself to leave the same waitress from before scurried up to your table, setting down a plate with a big slice of your favorite kind of cake, the words “Be my girlfriend;)” written in chocolate icing neatly decorating the plate. You looked up at Gojo with a blank look on your face, raising your eyebrows at his smug face. “Really, Saturo?” “If you don’t answer I'll eat it.” You rolled your eyes, picking up your fork and taking a piece into your mouth “We’ll see, okay?” he deflated a little, but still reached over to pick up a fork, taking his share. “You really shouldn’t eat with your mouthfull” “oh shut up, Gojo” 

When you got back in the car the atmosphere was lighter, soft music playing from the radio, the two of you sharing little stories and jokes. It was nice, and for the first time you felt content with him, allowing those same feelings you had been trying to forget come rushing back. You watched him as he drove, lazily leaning back, steering with one hand on the wheel. He looked so good and you couldn’t help but squeeze your knees together, filthy memories swirling around in your head. Quickly, you look back outside, trying to distract yourself watching the city pass you by in a blur. 

You pulled up in front of Gojo's  home, deciding you should head back to his place and leave for Jujutsu Tech together the following morning. It wasn’t as extravagant as you’d think it was, but definitely bigger than the average home. It was a bit of a distance away from the city, sitting in a secluded area surrounded by trees and other plant life. The place was vacant, and quiet, you briefly reminded yourself that Gojo spent most of his time at the school, and Megumi lived in the dorms. 

Gojo opened the car door, helping you step out and walk up the cobblestone walkway, mindful of the fact you had on heels. When you walked in he helped steady you as you took them off, dropping them right next to the door, the wooden floors cold under your bare feet. You’d been to his house a few times in the past, so you somewhat knew your way around, walking up to the grand kitchen, always clean from its lack of use. Gojo came up behind you, holding onto your waist and nuzzling his face into your neck. while you poured yourself a glass of water. 

“Hey Gojo” “hmm?” “Do you have any soap and towels? I wanna take a shower.” You felt him smile into your neck “can we take one together, pretty girl?” he hummed, rocking you side to side. You paused for a second, thinking it over. Showers with Gojo could never just be showers. He always had his hands on you, pressing up against you so you could feel how hard you had made him. He always got so touchy; threading his fingers through your hair, sucking red marks into the side of your neck. 

“Yeah...yeah Let's go” walking to his room he pulled out a pair of fluffy white towels from the closet, handing you one. You set it on the bed, opting to get out of your clothes right there instead of having to carry everything back with you. You stood in front of the mirror, catching a glimpse of Gojo behind you, watching you as you stripped right in front of him. You slipped the dress over your head. He sauntered over to you; pressing himself against your body. “Fuck…no panties, baby?” he rasped, making chills flit up and down your spine. “Mmhm” you teasingly whined your hips back into him, giggling at the low moan he breathed right by your ear. “Can we skip the shower, pretty girl? I think I'll lose my mind if I don't get a taste of you right now..” you reached up, placing your hand on his cheek, Gojo melting into your touch. He was so desperate, grabbing your hips and anchoring them against him, pressing your ass harder against his crotch. “Please..please, baby.” he whined, pressing light kisses against the side of your neck. You almost wanted to give in when you felt his hardening bulge against you. 

You pulled away from him, suppressing a laugh at the stricken look that overcame his face, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around yourself, obstructing his view of you. “Don’t be gross, Saturo. We’re sweaty. We’re taking a shower” he rolled his eyes, grabbing his towel and following you into the bathroom. 

Steam shrouded the glass of the shower doors, the heated water stinging your skin, your muscles relaxing in satisfaction. Saturo held you in his arms, his woefully resting his cheek against your shoulder. His fine strands of hair tickling your neck. 

The warmth of his body made you want to doze off. He lazily rubbed your soapy washcloth up and down your back, playfully rubbing it over the swell of your ass, flicking the soapy cloth against your skin, snickering when your head parted from his collarbone, looking up at him with a bleary glare. 

You looked so pretty right there, the steam made the warm color of your lips stand out, the droplets of water collecting in your eyelashes, dribbling down your skin tempting him to kiss you. He pressed his lips to yours, letting his eyes fall shut, blissful of the warmth radiating from your body. 

Gojo quietly sighed into the kiss when you followed his lead. Pressing your lips back against his, holding onto his shoulders and deepening the kiss. He could feel his heart beating miles a minute and he swore he would die right there; relishing the feel of your lips on his. 

He ran his hands down your sides, squeezing your hips affectionately, chasing your lips when you pulled away. Separating from you was making him dizzy, the steam in the bathroom causing sweat to sheen above his brow, the air you stole from his lungs making him struggle to catch his breath. 

“Toru…” you mumbled, pressing your lips so sweetly to the corner of his mouth, his heart clenching at the nickname. “I love when you call me that, baby..” he breathed, his crotch against yours, the beginning of an erection hard pressed against the skin of your navel. “You haven’t called me that in a good long while, pretty girl..” you closed your eyes, leaning your forehead against his collarbone. His body loomed over you, his lips pressing nips and kisses to the side of your neck. “Say it again, baby..” he bit down softly on the junction of your neck and shoulder, his soapy hands coming down to grip the swell of your ass, kneading it firmly, the washcloth long forgotten, discarded somewhere on the floor.  

“I never knew you liked it” his had creeped down to the underside of your thigh, picking your leg up and wrapping it around his waist. He backed you into the shower wall,  eyes gazing into yours. His pupils were shot, droplets dripping from his hair, and running down the front of his face. The tip of his dick kissed the skin of your pussy, the firm head of his dick bumping against your clit as he rubbed himself against you. “Anything sounds good coming from your lips” he breathed, and you smiled, placing a sweet kiss right to his collarbone. 

 Looking down, you watched his length slide back and forth between your thighs, the friction making heat slowly rise in your core, warmth swarming in your chest at the blatant display of his need for you.  “Toru, stop teasing me, its fucking hot in here” the heat in the room was frustrating, the steam from the shower and the warmth radiating from his body making you hazy. You didn't know how much longer you could let him tease you. He chuckled breathlessly at your impatience, leaning his forehead against yours. “I got you, baby.” You sighed in satisfaction when he hoisted you up, your back against the wall, his arms supporting you against the slippery surface. He reached down, teasingly rubbing the tip of his dick over your folds, tracing it over your clit a few times, making you whine, squeezing him the best you could with your legs around him.

He groaned, sliding into you. Your warm walls wrapped around him snuggly. Sucking him into your velvety walls, your pussy was a tight fit around his dick. He pumped you so full, your walls fluttered around his girth, thick tip slightly curved up from your position, pressing against your g-spot, the texture of your walls stimulating him perfectly. He rolled his hips in tight circles, slow fucking you, dragging his dick along your walls in a steady rythm. It was hard, not letting himself go and beating your walls loose, especially when you looked so good in his arms, sighing his name with every slow drag of his hips, your head falling on his shoulder, nipping at his neck no doubt marking him up. It was nothing short of heavenly, being right here with you now. 

You melted into his arms, closing your eyes in bliss, your breathing picking up with his change of pace. All you could do was call out his name. Your hands searched for something to ground yourself with, pressure building at your core. It was overwhelmingly hot now in the bathroom, his warm body working against yours and the steam from the shower blinding you, making it hard to focus on anything besides the man in front of you. He rocked his hips into you, hitting against the spongy wall of your g-spot. His thrusts were consistent and well-aimed, soft grunts falling from his lips, eyebrows furrowing with effort.

 You were crumbling beneath him, hushed curses escaping your lips, raking your nails down his back. The squelching sound of your wet pussy sucking him in was spurring him on, not letting up for a second. You felt yourself flutter around him, his thick dick stretching you open, dragging out moan after moan from your lips. It was sweet torture, the way his pelvis smacked against your ass with every thrust, barley even pulling out to roll back into you. The force of his movements makes you slowly slide down the wall, his arms struggling to hold you up against the slick surface.

 “Hold on, baby” he pulled out of you, your legs turning to jelly when he set you down. He turned off the shower, sliding the shower door open. The bathroom was foggy, making it hard not to stumble on your way out and into the bedroom.

 He eagerly laid you on the bed, crawling down in between your legs. He eased your knees apart, coming face to face with your pussy, your skin still damp. He happily sighed, languidly lapping up at your folds, sticky with the essence of your arousal. You felt your legs tense on his shoulders, Gojo spreading your thighs apart, holding them open as he tongued you down, burying his face into your pussy.

 His lips slurped your clit up, softly sucking on the bud, flicking against it with his tongue. He hummed when your hands found his hair, running your fingers through the damp locs, shuddering when he pressed his nose against the skin of your mound, running his tongue over your folds, continuously coming back up to your clit. His eyes were closed, blissfully eating you out. You whined his name, rocking yourself against his tongue. He was taking his time with you, drinking in every last drop of your leaking arousal. The pressure in your core returned, your body tingling with pleasure.

He could feel you tensing into his mouth, now look up at you with half-lidded eyes. You gasped, feeling him latch his lips around your clit and suckling on it hard, humming against your pussy in satisfaction. Your muscles tightened, a low keen escaping you when you came, your legs closing around his head. He continued to suckle on your bud, flicking the tip of his tongue to grant you extra stimulation. It was like he was on auto-pilot, his lips never leaving your clit, your body convulsing under him, helplessly jerking into his mouth. After a few minutes the overstimulation was getting to be too much for you,  weakly you pushed at his forehead, shying away from his mouth on your swollen heat.

He dragged his tongue up your slit one final time, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to your navel, your stomach rising and falling with the labor of your breaths. He propped himself up on his elbows, laying his weight on your body and gazing at you, watching you try and catch your breath. 

“You alright, baby?” he asked, looking over your face, his eyes softening at you. You threaded your fingers through his hair, tousling it, smiling down at him, appreciating how handsome he looked when he was so disheveled, his eyes were still unfocused, his chin still glistened with the juices of your orgasm. It made you all the more needy, blood recirculating through your body, clit hardening once more, gazing at him through half lidded eyes. His fucked out look making warmth swell inside you. Your weeping pussy clenched around thin air, the room temperature making your clit all the more sensitive after your orgasm.  

“I’m okay, toru.. I just need you right now.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss between the valley of your breasts, one hand coming up to softly knead your flesh, rolling his thumb over your nipple distractedly. “Is that right?” his eyes flitted back to your face, crawling up to be at eye level with you. He leaned forward to brush his lips against yours, hands coming down to spread your legs wider once more. “Yes, toru.. Please..” Your body was still hot from your most recent orgasm, the wetness between your thighs uncomfortably sticky, you could feel his hard length right below you, tip kissing the skin of your mound. “Please? Please what?” His voice was playful, almost teasing, his tone dropping down to a low murmur. You felt hot frustration bubbling up inside you, tired of his relentless teasing and prodding.

“Toru, just fuck me already, please” you pleaded, grabbing the back of his head and slamming his lips onto yours to convey your desperation. Gojo laughed into the kiss, pressing his lips harder against yours, tracing his tongue along your bottom lip. You pulled away,  a thin string of saliva connecting you to him, your eyes half lidded, panting with the effort of holding yourself up.

He leaned back, kneeling between your legs for a second, admiring the sight of your sopping cunt in front of him. He almost wanted to lean down and have his fill of you again, to tease you a little longer. But the uncomfortable ache of his dick, that's been hard for much too long, and the look of pure, carnal lust in your eyes persuaded him against it. He hastily grabbed your thighs, dragging you down so that your ass was flush against his thighs, flushed, leaking tip pressed right up against your pussy lips, throbbing with need. He braced himself, pushing into you at an agonizingly slow pace, watching your pussy suck in every last inch he had to offer. Your wet, aching pussy engulfed him, your post orgasm sensitivity making your walls twitch around him. He stayed there for a second, leaning his head back, eyebrows slightly furrowed in bliss. 

He allowed a low groan to fall from his lips, moving his hips slowly forward, your walls expanding, fluttering to welcome his girth. He closed his eyes, leaning over your body, folding you in half against his lean build. “I’ve deprived myself of you for so long, baby” he grunted, hips steadily increasing in rhythm, rocking into you, his thrusts well aimed and precise, beating against your g-spot with vigor. 

His movements felt so intense, your sensitivity amplifying the sensations he made you feel. There was nothing but static clouding your head, you couldn’t focus on anything but him inside of you, filling you to the brim with dick. It was hard to pay attention to what he was saying, his voice nothing but a murmur to your ears.

“I know i told you to be patient, baby..” you wheezed at a particularly rough thrust, hand coming down to press against his lower stomach “T-toru- ah! Baby, s-slow down” you whimpered, head lolling back when he ground his hips into you, seeing stars in your vision from the white hot pleasure shooting up your spine. “I-i told you to wait for me” he continued, panting, staring at you with half-lidded eyes, working his length into you.

 He was slowly losing his mind at the way your body reacted to him. The sounds of your pussy squelching only turning him on. “But i’m tired of waiting, baby.” he slapped your hand away, fucking into you at such a pace you felt like he was gonna split you in two. “You’re mine” he growled, burying himself deep, so deep his pelvis was pressed hard against the hilt of your mound, his fingers coming down to pinch and roll your neglected clit between his fingers, attaching his lips to your neck, biting and sucking his marks into you, solidifying his statement. “Oh my god- Saturo! Fuck, baby, s-s’good” you squealed, shutting your eyes tight, fists gripping the sheets so hard the cover sheet was starting to slip off the mattress. “I know baby, only i get to fuck you like this, you understand?” he grunted, losing himself in the way your walls massaged his length, nothing but pure bliss running through him.  The headboard rocked with the force of his thrusts, stroking your walls with a harsh rhythm, the stimulation on your clit sending you into euphoria. “I said.. Do. you. Understand?” he snapped his hips with every word, glaring into your teary eyes. You gasped, nodding your head frantically, too fucked out to even use your words properly. “Y-yes toru-aagh” you spoke in babbles, feeling like you were floating, his fingers on your clit and his thrusts making your soul ascend from your body. 

It was all too much at once, your mouth running dry as you came again, body jerking helplessly under Gojo’s weight. Your head is thrown all the way back, tears blurring your vision from the impact of your orgasm. He eased you through it, moaning into your neck as your walls repeatedly constrict and release along his length, a ring of creamy white collecting at his base. His thrusts significantly slowed down, careful not to overwhelm you while chasing his own release. 

You felt him spill into you, the warm, running substance of his cum dribbling down your thighs when he pulled out of you. You felt winded, limply laying on the bed– the feeling in your legs long gone, your body exhausted. The bed shifted, Gojo leaving for the bathroom and returning with a small towel, wiping you and himself down, trying to stop the mess between your legs from soiling the sheets. 

He flopped down next to you, bringing you into his chest as he always did, bringing the duvet over to cover you. The silence was comfortable, the two of you basking in the afterglow. You spent the rest of the night exchanging soft kisses and sweet words of affection to each other, enjoying your moment of peace together. For once you felt hopeful, no longer afraid to embrace him; and Gojo felt the same, holding you close with care, letting you doze off in his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

In the morning, despite your soreness he took you again, and again. In the kitchen, in the living room- in the shower, again. He was addicted to you, to your body. He couldn’t deny the warmth in his chest seeing you fast asleep in his bed, wearing his white button up, the thick duvet shielding you from his view. Yaga had blown your phones up multiple times, but neither of you really cared, enjoying each other’s company, exploring each other’s bodies. 

It was then he decided, watching you snuggle up into his sheets, neck littered with bites and blooming bruises– that he would do anything, anything in the world to keep you. Even something as small as picking the phone up when you called.    

taglist, requested by these lovely people(I hope you don't mind me tagging you again); @sharycatx3 @fatcatsfallingfromthesky @kalulakunundrum @elilovesall @laviefantasie

@sadmonke @toffeebrat @frozenmallows @ilovebattinson

[arvandus]

Icarus (Overhaul x F!Reader)

Ah yes, once again so late on this. This one gave me grief because the characters kept deviating from what I had originally planned. >.< But I worked through it, and here we are.

This is for the BNHarem's “On The Job” Collab for May, which you can find here.

Also, don’t judge my super simple title headings for my fics 😂 I always do these late at night when I should be asleep, so generic background with fancy text is the best I got to offer.

Trigger Warnings: 18+ ONLY!  1 instance of aggression/abuse (hair grabbing/pulling - nonsexual), unprotected sex (fun in fiction, dumb IRL), mutual masturbation, overstimulation, bondage via quirk abuse, degradation...

I think that about covers it.  Once again, I’m terrible at TWs so let me know if I missed anything or if anything is inaccurate. 😬 I just kinda write what I want and don’t really think about the labels when I’m doing it.

Pairing: Overhaul x F!Reader

Word Count: 8281

You hadn’t meant to get caught.  Really, you weren’t even sure what had possessed you to do it in the first place. Desperation? Horniness? Stupidity?

 All of the above?

 All you knew was that it was a poor decision brought forth by the gradual culmination of a single annoying, unavoidable fact: you were disgustingly, shamefully, sinfully attracted to Kai Chisaki.

You weren’t exactly sure how or when it started. There was no “aha” moment, no “big bang” of desire.  Instead, it was subtle, gradually coating your unsuspecting mind like layers of sediment. A shiver down your spine when he spoke your name.  The quickening of your pulse at the briefest of eye contact. And the ever-growing presence of intrusive, curious thoughts.

 Like his hands.  You always noticed them, the white of his gloves drawing your attention like a beacon whenever he was within eyesight.  They were dangerous hands, deadly weapons that you’d seen in action firsthand.  They were a thing to be feared and avoided.  But some strange part of you couldn’t help but wonder... what did they feel like?  You imagined they’d be soft and perfectly manicured, oddly delicate for such a violent man; gentle hands packed with destructive power.

 Or his lips.  They were always covered by his mask.  You never, ever saw him without it.  You imagined what your name would look like on them as he spoke, how they’d feel on your skin.  Would his lips also be soft? How about his kisses? Would they be cautious and controlled, or rough and hungry?

 It didn’t help that he was, in his own way, very attractive.  Just like how his dangerous hands were hidden within innocent white gloves, he was the devil hidden behind a pretty face. A sharp, beautiful jawline. Smooth porcelain skin. A crown of auburn red hair, closely cropped, but still long enough to run fingers through.

 You bet that part of him was soft too.

 The one part of him that wasn’t soft were his eyes.  They were beautiful, certainly… as gold as Heaven’s gates and framed in long, perfect lashes.  But they lacked the warmth of Heaven.  Instead, they spoke of cold arrogance. And if you stared into them long enough, you could see a barely contained disgust lurking beneath their haughty exterior.

 The disgust didn’t bother you, not anymore.  Everyone disgusted Chisaki, and everyone in the Shie Hassaikai knew it. He even made his closest confidants, some he’d known since childhood, wear masks so he wouldn’t share the same air with them.  

 He had you wear a mask too, of course. Simple and white, it covered only your lower face, much like his own.  That much you were grateful for, considering some of the masks you’d seen others wearing.  Your only explanation for the slightly less coverage was that your secretarial position made you a frequent point of contact for those outside of the organization.  You handled incoming calls, visitors, and scheduled meetings between Chisaki and his affiliates.  No doubt he wanted to ensure you were making a good impression while still operating within his mysophobic requirements.

 First impressions were everything to Kai.  Even more so since he took the Boss’s place under dubious circumstances. Still, his long-held reputation for extremist thinking and violence preceded him, and not everyone was in support of his unexpected promotion.  As a result, many people within the organization parted ways following Chisaki’s rise to power... and soon after they mysteriously went missing, never to be heard from or located again.  You had no doubt that it was Chisaki tying up loose ends by sealing loose lips.  After all, they say the mouth is the source of disaster.  And Chisaki valued confidentiality above all else.

 The message he sent was clear: adapt or die.  When given such colorful options, the choice on whether to go or stay became a simple one.

 So, you adapted.  As long as you followed orders, kept your eyes down and your mouth shut, you were safe. After all, it was better to be the right hand of the devil than to be in his path.  The only person you really had to fear was Chisaki himself, and you knew him well enough by now to know how to stay on his good side.

 And all in all, it really wasn’t all that bad.  Sure, you had to orchestrate the occasional clean-up when he disposed of someone who displeased him.  But that wasn’t much different than what you’d dealt with when you worked for the Boss, either.  Sure, the aftermath was messier and it happened far more often.  But violence was violence, and when you worked with the Yakuza long enough, you got used to it.  And despite the odd working conditions and ever-present undertone of danger, you remained good at your job. As such, Chisaki brooked no complaint. He tolerated you, and you tolerated him. Interactions were brief, words exchanged were polite and respectful even though they lacked warmth.  But it was just a job, right?  You didn’t need warmth.

 So why did you feel so dissatisfied?  Why did you constantly feel that something was missing, a longing you couldn’t entirely describe?

 The need only ever waned when Chisaki was in your presence, whether it was to discuss upcoming meetings or simply passing by your desk to get to his office. The dissatisfaction would melt away into a warmth that extended deep into your fingertips whenever the cold-hearted man bothered to look you in the eyes. And when he wasn’t looking at you? It was like being thrown into a winter blizzard, the aching cold returning to pull the corners of your mouth down into a silent frown.

 You craved his attention.  It was shameful and pathetic and you could only imagine the scorn he’d give you if he knew, but you didn’t care.  To be graced with the attention of a man who cared for no one brought a different kind of satisfaction.  The rare treats of attention Chisaki did grant you, whether intended or not, scratched an itch that only he could scratch.

 As time passed, the intrusive thoughts became more frequent, evolving from odd curiosities to shameless lust.  They began to occupy your dreams, forcing you awake with a hot ache between your legs. That was when you really began to realize how in deep you were.  It wasn’t just a simple “attraction.”  You wanted him.  At first you tried to deny and ignore, suppress and excuse.  After all, this was Overhaul.  Wanting him was like wanting the sun in your hand, and just as dangerous. Apparently though, it made little difference to your hormone-addled brain.  It didn’t help that the secretive, forbidden thoughts brought their own special addictive flavor of the taboo.  

 You began to act different in front of him.  Nothing too obvious, of course.  After all, you knew Chisaki wasn’t the type to indulge in desperate women. To be honest, you weren’t even sure Chisaki indulged in women at all.  All you did know was that whenever women tried to gain his favor through flirtation, Chisaki quickly and harshly shut it down.

 So, it was little things... the extra second to release a paper from your grip after he’d grabbed it, the lingering of a glance.  You didn’t so much change the style of your attire – skirts and blouses were already the norm for your position – but you changed the colors. A blouse that matched the purple feathery softness of his jacket, golden jewelry that matched his eyes.  Little messages waiting in secret to be picked up, yet subtle enough that they could be excused as nothing more than coincidence. It was risky, but the thrill of the game gave you an outlet for your roiling feelings.  In the end though, it made no difference.  There was nothing about you that seemed important enough to turn Chisaki’s head more than was professionally necessary.

 Which is where the state of things were when you found yourself alone in his office one evening. You had thought he was still working at the time. You’d stepped away to shred some incriminating documents and burn the scraps in the kiln outside.  It was your last task for the day, so you’d entered Chisaki’s office to announce your departure for the evening.  Except when you entered, the space was empty, with all traces of him gone.  No papers remained on his desk.  His gloves and plague mask were gone.  With an annoyed huff you had stood there, bothered that you’d missed him.

 Quietly, you walked to his desk, and gently caressed the mahogany wood.  It was immaculate of course, free of dirt and fingerprints.  You knew it would be because he cleaned his space every evening before he left, and you cleaned it every morning before he arrived.

 You sighed as you retrieved the paper towels and cleaning solution.  No harm in giving it a second scrub to save yourself some time tomorrow morning. It wasn’t like anyone would be foolish enough to enter this space without Chisaki present anyway.

 You should have just left it at that.  But as you walked around his desk to wipe the surface with the damp towel, your bare legs just below your skirt bumped his chair. Soft leather, still warm from where he had sat, greeted your exposed skin.

 That should have been your first clue.

 But your mental alarms never sounded.  Instead, you figured you had just missed him.

 You should have just left, but you didn’t. The warmth on the chair was enticing you. He was gone, right?  Left for the evening.  What harm could it do to indulge just a little bit?  With your heart pounding with excitement, you carefully sat down in the warm leather. Immediately the scent of Chisaki’s body wash and clean clothes cradled you.

 That should have been your second clue.

 But you were already too wrapped up in your enjoyment.  You relished in the sensations, leaning back as you closed your eyes.  It was the closest you’d ever felt to him, as if his very presence was there with you. Your desire purred deep in your gut at receiving its first nibble of satisfaction.  If you closed your eyes, you could pretend he was there, holding you.

 Your kept your eyes closed as your imagination began to take root like weeds in your mind, making your skin feel hot.  Your fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, dipping beneath your skirt while your heart pounded.  What if those were his fingers?  The vision combined with the sensations of touch and smell were delicious, and you wanted more.  You dragged the pads of your fingertips up even higher, your arm starting to push your skirt up with it.  Your legs parted easily, as you let out a shaky breath.

 You shouldn’t be doing this.  Not here of all places.  But there was something so sinfully satisfying about it, the danger only heightening the sensations.  After all, the reward was only as great as the risk it took to earn it.  And this was the highest risk you could take, short of literally throwing yourself at him.  Besides, it wasn’t like your fantasies were ever going to come true. Maybe satisfying yourself - right here, right now – would be enough to finally give you the peace of mind you needed.

 And dear God, did you need it.  You could already feel the heat growing in your loins, the moisture dampening your panties.  Your fingers finally brushed against the warm cotton fabric covering your sex and you let out a soft gasp.

 What Chisaki didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.  He was gone, right?  And you were going to clean up any traces of your little visit before you left.  He’d be none the wiser.

 Your fingers slipped beneath your underwear to meet the hot, slick flesh of your folds, your clit already plump and ready with arousal. You knew it wouldn’t take you long to cum, but you wanted to enjoy this, to savor it as the only opportunity you’d get.  You certainly weren’t going to do this again.

 So, you teased yourself, fingertips softly dragging slow circles around your entrance before dipping in.  A shaky moan left your lips, the quickening of your breaths matching the racing of your heart.  In and out you dragged your fingers, relishing in your sleek, sensitive walls, occasionally breaking your rhythm to spread your juices over your swollen labia. You revisited your clit and stifled your moan with a bite of your lip as you began to slowly massage it with practiced skill.  It felt so fucking good.  The scent of yourself mingled with the scent of Chisaki, and you spread your legs wider, leaning back farther into the seat.  You could feel the surge beginning to swell, and you knew it would be soon. Vivid fantasies danced on the inside of your eyelids, and you were fully enthralled, fingers skimming fast circles over your swollen bud as your other hand began to massage your breast through your blouse.

 “Fuuuuuckk....Kai....” You moaned.

 “What do you think you’re doing?”

 The familiar voice made you jump so hard, you nearly fell out of the chair as your eyes flew wide open.

 There was Kai Chisaki, staring down at you from across the desk – his desk. And there were you, sitting in his chair, spread eagle.

 Your breath was knocked out of you and you felt light-headed with panic.  You caught sight of the shoji screen behind him, wide open to the evening air.

 FUCK. Of course.  You forgot to check outside.  He must have stepped out for some fresh air before returning to his office.

 Shit. Shit, shit, shit.  You hadn’t heard him enter.  How long had he been standing there??

 “I asked you a question.” The man seethed through his plague mask.  His gloved hands were clenched into angry fists, and his eyes... eyes that you’d always craved to see you... well, they saw you now, and you were terrified.

 Immediately, you closed your legs and stood up from his chair. Your mouth babbled soundlessly before your voice finally came, tight and small.

 “I’m sorry.  I’m so so sorry.”

 “I didn’t ask for an apology.” He hissed.

 “I know, I’m sorry.” You blubbered.

 “Come. Here.” Chisaki demanded.

 You obeyed, struggling to adjust your skirt as you approached him from around his desk.

 “I didn’t tell you to touch your clothes.” His tone was quiet and constrained yet sharp as a razor’s edge, each word uttered with meticulous precision.

 You stared at him in shock as you slowly removed your hands from your rumpled clothing.  His eyes raked over you, top to bottom, and left you feeling... exposed.

 “Look at you...” he grumbled.  “Disgusting.”

 His mask was unnerving, blocking the lower half of his face and keeping you from being able to fully read his facial expression.  His gold eyes were threatening – predatory like a wolf.

 He was going to kill you.  You knew it was coming. He’d killed others for far less.  But you weren’t ready for it.  You didn’t want to die.

 You dropped to your knees and bowed low in front of him, shrinking yourself to fit beneath his harsh glare.  “Please, Mr. Chisaki-“

 “Overhaul.”

 “Overhaul!” you corrected, as you bowed your head lower to the ground. “Please forgive me.  I meant no disrespect.”

 “No disrespect?” he sneered.  “You debase yourself in my seat, my place of business, and claim no disrespect??”

 His left hand reached forward at lightning speed and grabbed you by your hair, forcing your head back until you were looking him straight up at him.  You winced against his harsh hold on you, yet clenched your teeth in an effort to keep your silence.  He glared down at you as his next words came out through what you could clearly hear as clenched teeth.  

 “Clean it up.”

 With that, he shoved you away from him. On shaking, clumsy legs you pushed yourself to your feet and made your way back to his desk, your skin hot with shame and your ears ringing.  

 You did as he commanded, grabbing the cleaning solution and spraying his seat before carefully, meticulously, wiping every inch of the rich leather.  Minutes passed in silence as you made sure that no spot went unnoticed, even ensuring that the table was once again cleaned as well. By the time you had finished, Kai’s temper seemed to have dwindled to a simmering flame.  His hands were no longer clenched in fists at his sides. Instead, they were tucked deep into his pockets as he supervised you.  It did little to comfort you though... you knew that Chisaki’s reflexes were faster than you could dodge.  He’d catch you before you even reached the door.

 Not that you’d try to.  You knew better.

 When the chair was finally pristine, you disposed of the last of the soiled paper towels in the wastebin and returned the cleaning solution to its home. The task was done, but you didn’t stop. You picked up the trash can with the intent of disposing of its contents; you knew Chisaki wouldn’t want it sitting in his office.  

 It was all to buy you time. Time to figure out what to say or what do to convince Chisaki to spare your life.  But you didn’t even make it to the door before Chisaki’s voice halted your retreat.

 “Where do you think you’re going?”

 “I... I was just...” you stammered.

 “I didn’t give you permission to leave.”

 You swallowed and set down the trashcan.  He approached you slowly, until he was a mere few inches from you. He was so close that you could smell his cleanliness and see the pupils of his eyes dilate as he stared at you.  Slowly, he grabbed the mask that was covering your mouth and nose and removed it from your head.  You stopped breathing.

 There was something... electric in the air.  You could feel it on your skin, making your hairs stand on end and your flesh tighten with goosebumps.  His eyes peered at you intently, taking in every subtlety of your face.  Your lips, your eyes, your skin... and beneath the weight of his stare, you could feel the fear start to transform, replaced by something else entirely.  Something familiar that’d been plaguing you for months, lighting your veins with fire and threatening to incinerate you if it wasn’t released.  After all, part of his allure was the danger. And he hadn’t killed you yet, which meant... something.

 Chisaki’s gaze began to wander beyond just your face, taking in your still rumpled clothes.  The top couple buttons of your blouse were undone, exposing the skin of your neck and the edges of your bra.  Your skirt was still askew, and although he couldn’t see it, you became acutely aware of your still-damp underwear trapped between your folds from when you had hastily closed your legs earlier.  You stared back at him, waiting for him to do something, say something.

 And that’s when you noticed it... a faint flush across his pale cheeks, peaking out from beneath his mask. His chest was rising and falling with each breath, and it was as if he were contemplating something, silently weighing a decision in his closed-off mind.

 A strange bubbling sensation began to build within your chest, foreign and oddly out of place.

 Hope.

 Finally, Chisaki spoke, his voice unusually calm considering the trouble you were in.  “Follow me.”

 Not one to disobey him, you did as he requested as he made his way over to his desk and sat down in his chair.  Then, with an open hand, he gestured at his desk.

 “Sit.”

 Confusion.

 “W-What??” you stuttered.

 “I said sit.” He replied.

 You did as Chisaki commanded, fitting yourself between his legs and his desk before hopping up slightly onto the surface you’d just cleaned. You were right in front of him now, your hands in your lap and your ankles crossed as you realized just how perfect this arrangement was for him to see directly up your skirt.  You worried your lip between your teeth as you watched him assess you.  His elbow was resting on the armrest of his chair, his fingers supporting his face along the jawline as he stared at you with his head cocked at an angle. If it were any other situation, you’d say he looked almost bored... but the glint in his eyes spoke of something else entirely.

 “Continue.” He stated.

 “What? What do you mean?” you asked.

 His eyes stared at you knowingly.  “You didn’t get to cum, did you?”  You shook your head, stunned at his words.  “Continue.” He repeated.

 “Right here?”

 “Where else?  It was good enough for you earlier.”  His tone dropped slightly as his eyes narrowed.  “Continue.”

 Your heart pounded in your ears as you uncrossed your ankles, and with shaky hands began to trace your fingers up your thighs just as you had done before. Except this time, the experience was entirely different. Instead of closing your eyes like before, you kept them open to stare at your observer, watching for his reaction.  So many times you’d fantasized about this... about his eyes being on you and only you... and you weren’t going to miss a moment of it.

 With your eyes locked on each other, you inched your way up to the space between your thighs, your legs parting to grant you access.  Chisaki didn’t look down.  Not right away, at least.  Instead, he continued to watch your face, his body still and silent.  With the heat of his gaze on you, you finally reached your center where your warmth greeted you.  It was still slick from earlier, your fingers sliding easily along your labia as you began to tease yourself for the second time that evening.  You let out slow, shaky breaths as your fingers rubbed slow, lazy circles over your glossy lips.  

 Chisaki still didn’t break his gaze from your eyes, and a part of you wanted him to.  You wanted him to acknowledge what you were offering him and know that he liked it. A small, devious smirk found itself on your lips as you pulled your fingers away from your pussy to show him the evidence of your arousal stretched across your fingers.  It caught his attention just briefly, eyes flicking to your display, before he watched you lick the glistening strands from your fingertips, the soft sounds of your sucking filling the empty, quiet room.

 Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, and the smirk on your face widened.  Soon your fingers were back between your legs, massaging your clit again as your skin began to feel flush with heat.  Round and round the pads of your fingers went, with painstaking slowness that you drew out just for him.  You wanted to show him how good his presence made you feel.  You wanted him to see how badly you wanted him.  Your lips became more swollen, your clit more sensitive. Already you could start to feel the tension build.  It was almost too easy, your body ready to surrender at the drop of a hat.  But you weren’t going to let it happen, not yet at least.  You wanted to draw this out, to savor it in case it never happened again.

 With half-lidded eyes you stared at him as you parted you folds for him, fully exposing yourself. For the first time, his eyes drifted from your face to stare directly at your desire for him – your tight hole open and waiting, every inch of your swollen cunt drenched in glistening arousal.  Chisaki was captivated and you felt your blood surge.  You needed more. With your fingers still spreading yourself open, you dipped your middle digit into your tight heat.   Pleasure bloomed within you and a soft groan vibrated from the back of your throat. With each draw of your fingers, your breaths quickened, your back arching as the tension began to build.

 You struggled to keep your eyes open, to watch Chisaki as you brought yourself closer to orgasm, but it became increasingly difficult. You were single-focused now, chasing your much-needed release with each plunge of your finger into your soft depths.  Your body accommodated it welcomingly, and so you added a second, once again relishing in the renewed stretch that caressed your inner walls. The faster you pumped your fingers, the better it felt until your nerves were singing that familiar hum.  You flowed seamlessly into the final phase, your wet fingers leaving your entrance in favor of rubbing hard, fast circles over your clit.  The finish line was in sight now as your body sprinted with tense, aching muscles and breathy moans.

 You came with a gasp, back arching and thighs twitching as you rode out your orgasm. As you neared the end of it, you dipped your fingers in one last time as your walls gave one last final spasm of pleasure.  Gradually the wave of your euphoria calmed, returning to the gentle, lapping waters of desire that still moved within you to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

 You opened your eyes to see Chisaki still staring at you silently, his eyes once again locked onto yours. The flush across his cheeks was very much apparent now, yet his posture remained unmoved. Still, out of curiosity, you dared a quick glance down to his lap to see his hand strategically placed over the bulge in his pants.  Was he trying to hide it?  Because he was failing.  Or was he stroking himself through his clothes when you weren’t looking?

 “Again.” He ordered.

 Your eyes bulged.  “Again?”

 He didn’t bother to answer, instead waiting silently.  You were a bird trapped in the golden cage of his eyes as your mind struggled to recover enough from the hazy aftereffects of your orgasm to think straight.  He wanted you to do it again?

 At first you were hesitant. You knew your body was still sensitive from what had just transpired.  But then again… your eyes stared at Chisaki’s crotch again as he waited for you.  No doubt he saw you staring, yet he did nothing, said nothing.  It almost felt like an invitation… or a dare.  Do it again and see what happens.

 Fuck. You’d already gotten under his skin... might as well see how deep you could go.

 Between your orgasm only moments before and the juices still coating your pussy, the sensations of your touch at first felt almost... numb.  Except for your clit.  That part was still sensitive, making your muscles twitch and your breath hitch in your throat as you moved your fingers over it experimentally. You kept your touch gentle at first, careful to give your body time to respond as you reawakened the lust that still lurked in your core.  With dark eyes you began to stroke yourself for him again, pulling soft pleasurable moans from your gently parted lips.  It was definitely more intense this time, and you could already tell that this next orgasm would surpass the one before it.  Still, you drew it out as you watched Chisaki.  Or, more specifically, watched his free hand.

 It didn’t take long... you watched his fingers grip around his hard-on through his pants, his hand slowly moving up and down his restricted length.  You bit your lip at the sight and immediately felt a generous wave of hot arousal bloom between your legs, your nipples hardening achingly.  It wasn’t enough to capsize you into ecstasy, but it certainly pulled a needy whimper from your lips.  

 You dipped your fingers into yourself, feeling your walls flutter as you imagined what it would feel like to have Chisaki inside of you.  With each curl of your fingers the heat grew, like the sun reaching its zenith.  You wanted it.  You wanted to cum so badly.  But you wanted to see him even more.  So, you neglected your puffy clit in favor of unbuttoning your blouse just enough to grant you access to your sensitive breasts.  You pushed aside the cup of your bra to free the plump flesh, the bud at its center tightly puckered.  With deft fingers you massaged the soft skin before rolling the nipple slowly between your fingers, pulling more soft gasps and gentle hums from your lips.  The more you groaned and teased yourself, the more Chisaki stroked himself as he watched you, his eyes glowing with hunger.

 It wasn’t until you began to lose yourself, your eyes beginning to drift closed as you moaned and whined to the ebb and flow of your pleasure, that your patience was finally rewarded.

 You could hear it over the sounds of your lewdity – the ‘click click click’ of a zipper being pulled down.  You opened your eyes, not even attempting to hide your eagerness, as Chisaki freed his cock from his pants.

 It was beautiful just like the rest of him; long with a slight curve, its tip red and shining with precum.  Veins stood out in relief, trailing his length like vines, thick and beautiful. You swallowed at the sight of it, desperately wanting to know what it would feel like to have that in you.

 You hadn’t realized your own movements had frozen until Chisaki’s smooth voice cut through your thoughts.

 “I didn’t tell you to stop.” He said, as cool and professional as ever as if he didn’t currently sit before you with his dick in his hand.  

 He was gloating, you knew it... your stunned silence at the sight of his cock stroked his ego just as much as you touching yourself for him did. And you knew that, above all else, Chisaki loved to have his ego stroked.

 “Y-yes Mr. Chisaki...” you whispered, before your fingers began moving again.

 You continued to stroke and play, penetrate and rub as you watched him take his long cock in his hand and begin long, steady strokes.  Even now, he still kept his gloves on, and somehow that made his every move even hotter.  He was no longer propping his face up with his other hand.  Now, he was sitting up straight, eyes on your needy cunt as you put on your show for him.  You could see it, the tension in his temple that came and went, hear the ragged, quick draws of his breaths through his mask.  Your own arousal grew in response, egged on by him searching for his own sweet relief at the lewd sight of you.  It blossomed like a watered seed as you drank in the man in front of you – his hand pumping, precum dripping.

 It was the push your sensitive body needed.  You came surprisingly fast, your orgasm crashing over your body with greater intensity than the first.  Moans and gasps ripped from your throat as your body spasmed, and you made no effort to quell your cries, too consumed by your own pleasure.  With eyes squeezed shut, your hips rocked as you grinded yourself against your hand, your entire body singing in unbridled bliss.

 You were given no respite.  As soon as the pleasure eased just enough for your hips to still, Chisaki spoke.

 “Again.”

 Your eyes, still closed, flew open to look at him with incredulity.  You weren’t even recovered yet, your cunt still twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure. You knew that touching yourself without some sort of break was going to lead you down a jagged, torturous road of overstimulation.  It made your legs start to close up instinctually in denial.

 Your mouth moved silently before you pushed the words out.  “B-But... I can’t....”

 Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, his brows lowering... and along the edge of his mask, you could see his cheeks lift slightly.  He was smirking at you. Cruelly.  

 “You can, and you will.” He said.  A wave of his fingers told you to reopen your legs for him, and you did, slowly, as if you were a puppet on strings.  “Again.” He repeated.

 Chisaki took a moment to remove the glove from his stroking hand before giving his cock a couple more languid strokes.  You stared at the exposed skin in awe.  It was everything you imagined it’d be... pale, smooth, nails clean and perfectly trimmed.  Between his hard cock and his ungloved hand, you stared in shameless longing as an excited chill coursed down your spine.  Maybe… maybe if you were good…

 You swallowed the dryness in your throat and returned your fingers to your core, flinching as you brushed against your sore, overstimulated clit.  Chisaki returned to pleasuring himself as you performed for him, his hand pumping steadily.  Watching him masturbate to you was delicious.  He didn’t rush, instead opting to taking his time, his hand moving smoothly from base to tip, occasionally pausing to run his precum over the head, the shine glinting in the light.  You subconsciously licked your lips, wondering what it would taste like. Would you lick it from his tip? Or his finger?  Maybe both?

 You matched your pace with his, letting his own strokes guide your hand.  The synchrony made your pussy ache more than ever, even as your body screamed for freedom – a break from the constant wave of stimulation that you were subjecting yourself to.  It made you feel closer to him, more connected - as if he were a part of your pleasure without actually touching you.

 But dear God, you desperately you wanted him to touch you.

 He continued his strokes, slow and easy.  Whether it was for him or for you, you weren’t sure... you weren’t even sure if he was aware that you were pacing yourself with him.  His speed gradually quickened, the muscles of his forearms tensed and twitching as he pumped his hard cock with growing fervor. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen, his eyes starting to roll back in his head as he began to lose himself to the pleasure, legs twitching slightly as he came close... Your heart pounded with excited anticipation as you dipped your fingers into your core, feeling your walls flutter with need.  It was happening... he was going to cum...

 But he never did.  Instead, his pace began to slow as his eyes refocused on you. That was when you realized….

 Chisaki wasn’t trying to cum yet… he was edging himself.

 Maybe he was waiting for you.  Or maybe he had his own agenda.  But either way, it was clear to you that he was delaying his orgasm.

 The hypocrite.

 Still, you wanted to please him. You wanted to give him want he wanted, because then maybe he could give you what you really wanted.  But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how fucking hot the entire situation was, your own orgasm evaded you.  

 It was more than just the repeated orgasms and overstimulation.  The real issue was that your fingers no longer satisfied. Not after seeing what he had to offer, and certainly not after seeing how horny you made him.  You wanted him to touch you, to put his hands on you, to feel his cock in you... A frustrated whine escaped your lips as you felt your resolve break.

 “Please, Mr. Chisaki...” you begged.  Chisaki’s eyes left your open pussy to lock with yours.  Their golden depths burned holes into you, and you licked your lips under the heat of his stare. “Please touch me...”

 Chisaki froze mid-stroke.  “Touch you?” He said it as if the idea repulsed him, yet his eyes betrayed him as he looked back down between your open legs.

 “Please,” You begged.  “Don’t you want to?”

 His brow was deeply furrowed, and you knew he was having his internal debate, just as he’d had before.  After all, what you were asking was no small order.  You knew how he felt about touch.  No doubt he would have already been balls deep in you had it not been an issue for him.

 But that was why you begged. And pleaded.  And groveled.  Anything to make him set aside his golden rule, even if just for one night.

 “Please...” you whined one last time.  “I’ll do anything.  I need you, Kai...”

 Something about you using his given name did something.  His eyes widened slightly, his flush reaching down to his exposed neck.  Then his eyes narrowed, as he stood from his seat.  You watched with a mix of excitement and trepidation as he carefully removed his jacket and loosened his white tie.  He towered over you, his stare pinning you somewhere between his contempt and his hunger as he undid the cuffs of his black shirt and rolled up his sleeves to the elbows. It made your pussy throb and your heart pound as you stared back at him, completely vulnerable.  He stepped forward slightly, filling the space between your legs with his presence.  Even just the graze of his pants against the inside of your knee was enough to set off fireworks on your skin, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.  His cock was still out and hard, mere inches from your tight, needy cunt, and it took every ounce of willpower not to scoot down and close the gap between you.

 You waited.

 “Touch you...” he muttered through his mask, his voice low.

 Chisaki’s eyes raked over you, taking in every inch of you.  Your trembling, parted lips and large pupils; your exposed breast with its perky, hard nipple; your swollen and glossy cunt framed in ruined underwear that was carelessly shoved aside; the sweat from your thighs coating his desk.

 “So fucking filthy.” He breathed.  The profanity sounded strange on his lips, almost more like a prayer than an insult.

 He stared at one of your thighs as he slowly placed a warm, gloved hand on it. You reacted immediately, gasping at his touch, and his eyes darted to yours.

 “...And needy.” He added.

 From your peripheral you could see his other hand grip his cock and begin to pump it. You tried to watch... you wanted to watch.  But the heat of his hand on your thigh made nearly everything else fade away until it was all you cared about.  Your breaths began to come in hot pants as your body trembled beneath him.

 “I didn’t realize that you were so desperate for me.” He said calmly as he continued to stroke himself.  His gloved hand squeezed your soft flesh until you were moaning from the mixture of pleasure and pain. “Pathetic.”

 You were pathetic.  But you didn’t care.  You’d say anything, do anything, just to have him keep touching you.  And if he wanted you to beg?  To cry? To humiliate yourself to earn his cock?  You’d do that too.

 His hand slowly eased its grip as it began to move up, up, up until his thumb nestled in the crook of your thigh, just shy of your sensitive, swollen folds. Your hand immediately made way for his as you laid down completely onto his desk, your world spinning.  A warmth fell over you like a blanket, every fiber of your being pulsing at a low hum; you were a glass vibrating at a frequency just shy of shattering.

 Chisaki’s voice floated through your haze like a faraway song carried on the wind. “You were so eager at first.  So willing to shame yourself – shame me – to get what you wanted.”  He scoffed. “Now you can’t even do as I say.”

 You could feel his thigh twitch against yours as he began to pump himself faster. His cock was so close to your pussy that it was torturous.  It made you want to cry.  You could feel the warmth of fresh juices begin to flow from you, coating your entrance in invitation, as you prayed to all the gods above and below for him to enter you without mercy.

 But it never came.  And his hand never ventured further.  Slowly, your thoughts trickled back ever so slightly, and you realized he was waiting for you to speak.  Slowly, around a heavy tongue, you made clumsy words.  “I... I’m sorry...I’m trying... is hard...”

 Chisaki tsked.  “You’re afraid.  Afraid of pushing past your limits. So now I’m going to help you.”

 His gloved thumb crossed the threshold to your swollen bud, and your world exploded into color as a sharp zing of pleasure erupted from between your legs. You cried out, your body spasming, hips writhing to escape his touch. It was too much...

 “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

 Then he did something you didn’t expect – his bare hand released his cock and slammed down onto the desk.  The surface rippled beneath you, transforming until smooth arches of dark mahogany wrapped themselves over your arms, effectively pinning you down.

 Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, your breaths coming out in quick, panicked gasps.

 “Kai!” you protested.

 He bent over you and grabbed your jaw in his gloved hand, his plague doctor mask inches from your face. “You wanted me to touch you,” he whispered.  “Now you’re going to get what you asked for.”

 The look in his eyes wasn’t as controlled as before.  Sure, the disgust and hunger were still there.  But there were more emotions now, peaking through the cracks of his practiced façade.  Anger, contempt, fear, desire, longing... and something else; something wild and unhinged.

 Something within him was on the verge of breaking, of being set free, and you were the one responsible.

 He straightened himself up and returned his gloved hand to your sopping core, his cock once again in his bare hand.  His thumb found its home again, nestled firmly against your engorged clit.

 He wasn’t gentle, he wasn’t slow.  Instead, his thumb ran swift, relentless circles, the digit igniting every frayed nerve. Each swipe had you crying out as wave after wave of sharp, jagged pleasure assaulted you, without so much as a second of recovery in between.  And as Chisaki raced you towards that inevitable cliff, his own hand pumped himself hard and fast.  His strokes began to become erratic, his composure slowly slipping as you began to unravel before him, your whines and cries luring him to follow you to the point of no return.  You could feel his own legs began to spasm against your inner thighs, his hips beginning to jut forward with each drag of his palm along his hard shaft.  The gap between your two bodies began to close, until you could feel the tip of him brush against your core. In that instant, you came undone beneath him with his name spilling from your drooling lips.

 The temptation was too much.  He entered you as you came, his cock burying itself within your clenching walls with a single thrust.  Your legs wrapped around him instantly as your body exploded into a mess of tears, shrieks, and trembles.  With one hand on your hip and one working your clit, he fucked you through your orgasm as you cried and panted, his own grunts joining your one-person symphony as you felt every fiber of your being shatter with white hot pleasure. It was all-consuming, disorienting.  You weren’t even sure you were a person anymore.  You could feel nothing else, see nothing else except the man inside of you, hovering over you, filling your existence.

 It didn’t stop. Even after you were a blubbering mess, tears streaming down your cheeks, your thighs and cunt sore, Chisaki kept going, his cock reaching new depths as it dragged against your spasming, sensitive walls.  His breaths were heavy, each pant labored until he ripped his mask off his face.  It was like a switch had been flipped, changing Chisaki from a man in control to nearly animalistic.  Teeth bared, sweat beading across his forehead, golden eyes absolutely feral. His thrusts took you past your orgasm, unrelenting, and you cried and babbled for him to stop, it was too much, your body couldn’t take anymore.  But even as your string of incoherent words begged for the end, your body spoke of a different kind of freedom, your legs tightening around Chisaki’s waist in an effort to pull him impossibly deeper into you.

 Chisaki snarled, releasing his hand from your cunt as he continued to fuck you, and removed his remaining glove with his teeth.  Suddenly, the white fabric was being shoved into your mouth, gagging your broken words behind its white cotton that smelled and tasted of you.

 “Shut up.” He growled.

 You could see the hives breaking out across his damp, flushed skin now at the contact, but it no longer seemed to matter to him.  And it didn’t matter to you either.  You were wrapped up delirium, your eyes glossing over and rolling into your head with each drive of Chisaki’s hips. Your hips couldn’t even keep up with his thrusts anymore; his movements were too rough, too fast.  All you could do was lay there and receive him as he pounded you without restraint.  That familiar knot was forming again, a dark beast built from the broken pieces of the last. It was a terrifying thing, a formidable presence that you felt building within yourself that would surely decimate you.

 “This is what you really wanted, isn’t it?” Chisaki grunted through clenched teeth. “You wanted me to fuck you senseless, to ruin this tight pussy of yours like the greedy, selfish bitch you are.”

 His words washed over you and you gave the faintest of nods, your mouth still gagged.

 “So, you’re going to take what I give you. You’re going to cum when I say, as often as I say.”  His cock hit deep as his thumb gave a final press against your clit. “Now.”

 You screamed around the cotton in your mouth, back arching and arms straining against the wood trapping you as the tension finally erupted.  It tore through your veins, making your fluids gush and your pussy clench like a vice around Chisaki’s pumping cock.  Not a moment later, you heard him groan followed by the hot sensation of his cum coating your walls.  It only enhanced the waves of pleasure still wrecking you and your pussy milked him greedily as he emptied himself in you.

 The comedown felt like it would never arrive. Your nerves still sang too loudly, the aches echoed too deep.  But finally, Chisaki’s hips stuttered to a stop and your own body lay limp beneath him. It felt like you were submerged under water, every sense dulled or muted, as you stared hazily at the ceiling.  Chisaki was still in you, his dick twitching sensitively each time your body gave a weak aftershock. You had thought he would pull out, leave you there like the ruined mess you were to go clean himself up.  Now doubt he’d return to his senses any moment and be repulsed by what transpired.

 But he never did.  Instead, he braced himself over you, his heavy, hot breaths coating your exposed skin as he settled through his own comedown while you warmed his cock.  You felt the desk ripple beneath you and suddenly your arms were freed from their restraints, the wooden surface back to its original state.  A moment later, he filled your view as he leaned over you, and you had a brief moment of panic, wondering if you were next. Was he going to overhaul you now? After all, he got what he wanted...

 But he never did that either.  Instead, he removed the glove from your mouth as his eyes traced over your face, marking every feature, every nuance.  Your parted, chapped lips... your glossy, sweat-stained skin... the exhaustion in your eyes...  His thumb came up to wipe away at the tears drying along your cheekbones before running the smooth pad over your lower lip.

 Then he did something you didn’t anticipate, something that surprised you above all else. He bent down and captured your mouth with his, his wet tongue gliding into your stunned, open mouth.  It was strangely slow, uncharacteristically tender, and entirely unexpected.  The fog you’d been swimming in a moment before lifted slightly, and you began to kiss him back, your arm wrapping up around his shoulders before tangling your fingers into his damp, auburn locks at the base of his neck.

 Whatever it was, it was short-lived.  He brought a hand up to grasp the hand you had around his neck, his fingers twining with yours as he placed your hand back down on the desk, pinning you within his hold. He pulled away from the kiss and stared down at you with a dark smirk tugging the corners of his wet lips.  And his eyes... his eyes burned gold like the sun. Not a beautiful, gentle gold that kissed open delicate flowers and melted winter snow.  No, this was a force of unrelenting destruction, the kind that burned deserts, scorched forests... and melted wax wings.

 You were Icarus, fueled by foolishness and arrogance. You’d flown too close, fueled by a false sense of confidence that you could handle whatever it was that lurked within him, that your lust was enough to match his.  But you were quickly learning you couldn’t.  His fire burned too hot, his hunger too deep. He was going to devour you until there was nothing left.  And really, what did you expect from a man who denied himself every human urge in his quest for perfection?  

 The sun could never be controlled.

 And Pandora’s box can never be closed.

 Slowly, he lowered his face next to yours until you could feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

 “Again.”

[slashyrogue]

AU-gust Day 9: Coffee Shop

TW: Omega Hannibal/Alpha Will - subsequent chapters WILL be bottom Hannibal //Age gap - Will is older than Hannibal by like a decade

Will Graham was thirty one years old, unmated, and shockingly…unpresented.

It made for a very bleak dating history, mostly people who wanted to trigger his presentation and ended up extremely disappointed or angry they didn’t.

So when he decided to just give it up for good and live his life alone he was a little sad but resigned to his fate. Then fate pushed him in another direction.

His best friend Beverly, an alpha and very against Will’s new commitment to being alone, invited him to the ballet.

“Ballet?” He laughed, “Did you just meet me or…?”

Bev smirked, wrapping her arm around his side and whispering in his ear. “Picture it: a stage full of twenty something dancers - all gorgeous in tight outfits dancing and flexing those taut dancer muscles in soft lighting….most of them omegas. I’ve heard the omega star is brand new and so beautiful he looks like he’s been etched by marble but they don’t put him on the posters because word of mouth is sending people to see him.”

Will licked his lips, shamefully excited by the idea. “Maybe he’s not that great, maybe…”

Bev pulled out her phone and brought up a picture.

It wasn’t even a face, just a body. The picture was blurry, like it had been taken on the sly, and the caption under it said: “The Baltimore Ballet keeps reporting this but LOOK AT HIM! LOOK AT MY DREAM OMEGA’S PERFECT MUSCLES!”

He let out a breath, his body oddly warm.

“H..how did you even get tickets?”

“I got two tickets late last night completely by chance because my best friend wants to lock himself away never trying to date again so I figured I gotta pull out the big guns. So…what do you say?”

Will let out a long breath. “Ok.”

And so, two nights later Will and Bev sat in the back of a crowded theater waiting for the star, Hannibal Lecter, to grace the stage. When he finally came out as Prince Siegfried, the prince who falls for the cursed Odette, the whole theater gasped in surprise. Will’s whole body felt like it was on fire as he watched Hannibal dance, the younger man moving with a grace and beauty that was unmatched. He’d never seen an omega so beautiful in his entire life.

“Will?”

His cock felt heavy and hard in his pants, aching, and Will shot up from his chair running from the theater. He ran to his car, not stopping to text Bev, and drove the hour home in agony.

The next five days were hell.

But Will presented as an alpha.

He woke up on day five, exhausted but not in a rut, which made it easier to call Bev. She answered on the first ring.

“You better have a damn good excuse for ignoring me for so long! I tried to break into your house, you know? If you hadn’t told me to leave…”

“I went into a rut,” he said, his voice thick, “I…I’m an alpha.”

Bev was quiet.

“Bev?”

“Shit, really? Was it…”

“All those dancers I guess,” he lied, hating himself, “I…”

“Bullshit,” she said, “Will, you’ve been to strip clubs with me! It wasn’t the dancers, was it?”

“Bev…”

“I’m headed to Brew & Buzz for my shift and I expect you to be there. We’re talking about this.”

“You’re working.”

“So? We’re talking about this.”

She ended the call and Will, embarrassed and exhausted, dragged himself to the shower. He refused to let himself think about his rut, five days and fucking his fist and fantasizing about one omega who had to be a decade younger than him who he’d never even go near again.

It was just a fluke.

That was all it was.

He drove to Bev’s job, Brew & Buzz, the very place they’d met in college, what felt like a hundred years ago. She was the manager now, but still found time to help out more than most would.

The crowd was about right for the morning rush, and Will felt a little overloaded with the sudden scents of so many he hadn’t experienced before. His stunted presentation had made it impossible for him to smell if someone was beta, omega, or alpha until now and he wasn’t sure he could stand it much longer.

Bev spotted him halfway up the line - thankfully - and pulled him out bringing him up to the front stools.

“You look like shit.”

“I told you.”

She frowned, heading around the counter to make him a drink. “You know, most omegas I know would be super flattered to know they triggered a rut.”

Will blushed. “Bev, we’re in public.”

“Oh who cares?” She scoffed, handing him a black coffee, “I’m sure they heard it all before.”

Will sipped his coffee, not looking at anyone, and Bev sighed.

“Will, ignoring me is only…”

“He looked like he was twenty years old, Bev,” he hissed, almost shaking, “No gorgeous famous twenty year old is gonna want a mechanic struggling with a shit ton of issues who’s a decade older than him and I’m…”

A scent hit his nose and Will froze.

Oh.

“Will?”

He turned, heart beating wildly in his chest, and to his shock there near the end of the line of coffee shop patrons waiting was Hannibal Lecter.

“He’s…he’s here.”

“What?” Bev said, rushing around the counter, “Oh shit. Will, you’ve got to talk to him. You can pretend the show was a fluke but this, this is…”

Will rushed away from the front counter, blushing like mad, and couldn’t find it in himself to go anywhere near Hannibal so he sat as far back as he could.

And watched.

For the next hour he watched Hannibal get coffee and a scone, sit down, and have some of both while he wrote in a notebook. The omega was even more handsome like this, dressed in regular clothes but also dressed up more than anyone in the whole place.

Several people came over to him, obviously flirting, but he rebuffed every single one even handing back papers with phone numbers probably on them.

Will didn’t touch his coffee the entire time, so caught up in his watch, and had to force himself to stay seated when Hannibal got up to leave. He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, desperately pining he was almost in distress, and couldn’t help but stare as Hannibal walked out.

But he gasped when Hannibal looked back at the door and their eyes met.

Time seemed to freeze in those few seconds but Hannibal just turned and left anyway.

Will finally sipped his now cold coffee as Bev came running, blushing when she grabbed his arm.

“You stupid idiot,” she whispered, “That was probably your one and only…”

“Drop it,” he growled, pushing her off, “Just fucking drop it.”

Bev frowned as he got up, rushing for the door, and tossed his cup in the trash before he got outside. The air did little to settle the pit of disappointment in his belly, and headed for his car.

Only to pause when he spotted a very familiar backside leaning against a Bentley parked just across from his truck.

“…but I cannot wait an hour for your tow truck! I have to be at rehearsals in twenty minutes not…”

Will knew he could go.

He should go.

But instead he took a deep breath and walked over tapping Hannibal on the back.

“Excuse me.”

Hannibal turned, looking annoyed, but then he inhaled for a moment his expression softening.

“Yes?”

“I’m a mechanic, I…I can take a look if you want.”

Hannibal blinked. “You’re certain it’s no trouble?”

Will shook his head, hating how much he was blushing. “No, it’s…no I’m sure it’s not.”

Hannibal ended his call and put the phone into his pocket. “Thank you, I…I have a very important..”

“Yeah I heard, just open the hood for me? I have my tools in my truck.”

“Of course.”

He turned away, trying to calm down, but was sweating bullets already.

What if he had another rut?

Was it worth helping Hannibal?

Will thought it was.

He grabbed his tools and headed back, thankful that Hannibal stayed on the other side of the car. It did little to hide his scent, but maybe it would hide Will’s.

“Can you try to start it for me?”

“Oh yes I’m sorry I didn’t…”

“It’s fine.”

Hannibal got into the car and tried to start it.

Will knew immediately what the problem was.

“That’s good,” he said, “you can stop now.”

Hannibal leaned over, frowning. “Do you think you can fix it?”

“It’s the battery,” he said, “I think the connection is loose.”

“Can you fix it?”

He smiled. “Yeah it’s just tightening things up, that’s all. Give me a second.”

Hannibal smiled and it made Will’s heart skip a beat. “Alright.”

He leaned over, tightening things as much as he could, and the scent of the car helped mask Hannibal’s enough that he calmed down.

“You can try it again.”

“Alright.”

Will watched him get in the car again, and turn the key.

The engine shot to life at once, and Will felt like he’d killed something that he’d dragged to his mate.

It was a ridiculous feeling.

Hannibal wasn’t his.

“Thank you so much!” Hannibal said, blocking Will’s way when he tried to retreat, “If there’s any way I can repay you, I…”

Will blushed again, his cock harder than ever with Hannibal so close, and to his horror Hannibal stepped closer breathing in deeply.

“It’s…it’s no trouble I just…”

“You smell wonderful,” Hannibal purred, “Like…I cannot describe it. Your obvious attraction it’s…I’ve never…”

“Please I just…”

Hannibal reached out to pull on his shirt. “What is this?”

“I…I don’t know.”

He pressed himself to Will, their bodies so close Will whimpered, and he sniffed Will’s neck.

“I’ve never believed in spontaneous mating before now but…are you my alpha?”

Will groaned, suddenly pushing him back to run to his car. He ignored Hannibal calling after him, peeling out of the parking lot and not looking back.

No.

He was not doing this.

He drove nearly three miles before he had to pull over and jerk off, growling and grunting his release. It felt hollow, wrong, and as he drove home Will knew he was a coward.

What good would he do for someone like Hannibal: a young, beautiful omega with everything ahead of him?

He got home and called off again before going into his second rut in less than a week.

This time it lasted only three days but by the end he was even less satisfied.

Will called his job at Crawford Motors and Jack thought it was funny more than anything. He told Will not to come in till Monday.

Which only made him dread calling Bev again.

“Another one?”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

“Cuz you helped him with his car.”

Will blinked. “How did…”

“He’s come in here every single day since you left looking for you, and I…because I’m a good friend…didn’t tell him I know who you are. He’s not here yet but I’m sure if you come in…”

“I’m not coming.”

“Will, don’t be an idiot! He even told Jimmy he thinks you’re his alpha and that his heat is coming soon. You want him to go through it alone …or with some other knot in him?”

Will growled. “Bev…”

“Maybe I’ll help him! I’m sure…”

Will ended the call, so angry he was shaking, and didn’t bother showering off three days of constant jerking his knot. He drove wildly, nearly side swiping several cars and pulled up to Brew & Buzz so on edge he was shaking. Will pushed past the line, running to the front in spite of several people calling out to him, and found Bev smirking at the counter.

“There he is! I knew you’d show up.”

“Don’t you EVER pull that shit on me again! I…”

“It’s you.”

He turned, frozen as he saw Hannibal standing not a foot away looking a lot less put together than he had been before.

“I…”

Hannibal walked up and pulled Will’s shirt to bring him close before sniffing his neck.

“I’ve pleasured myself for days to the memory of you,” Hannibal whispered, “I was certain I was in heat but…no it’s not that. It’s something more, something…”

Will groaned. “I went into two ruts over you,” he whispered, making Hannibal pull back to stare in his eyes.

“Did you really?”

“Y…yeah.”

He touched Will’s cheek. “Your name?”

“Will,” he said, “Will Graham.”

Hannibal smiled. “Hello Will.”

“Hi Hannibal.”

“It seems unfair that you’ve known my name all this time and I didn’t know yours.”

“I’m sorry I just…”

Hannibal sniffed his neck again and to Will’s delight scented his cheek.

“Would you like to have coffee with me, Will?”

“Yes.”

“And after,” he said, lips so close they brushed Will’s ear, “Would you like to knot me?”

He let out a long breath. “I…I’m not sure I…”

Hannibal lifted his head up and frowned.

“Why?”

“We just met, and I’m not…”

He cocked his head to the side, assessing Will, and then smiled. “You’re old fashioned,” he said, “I see. Well, I suppose that will be new for me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I’m sure you…”

Hannibal smiled. “We’ve only just met, Will. How can you be sure of anything about me?”

Will blushed, shaking his head, and Hannibal took his hand making him blush even harder.

“I believe we can start with coffee for now, but…my heat is soon and I do not want to spend it with anyone else.”

Will swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded. “Coffee for now and…everything else later?”

Hannibal’s smile widened.

“That sounds good to me.”

[hercleverboy]

four times

spencer reid x reader 

genre > angst

wc > 3.1k

four times the reader loved spencer and the one time she didn’t

The first time she knew she loved Spencer Reid, was when he brought her coffee early one morning on a boring paperwork day.

Y/N had only started at the BAU a few months ago, and had pretty much instantly fallen for the intelligent man with eyes like honey. She grew very close with the rest of the team, being the new youngest member, she very quickly became a part of their family. One day, without a new case that demanded their attention, Hotch had assigned them all to paperwork before dismissing them. Spencer had stumbled in through the doors of the bullpen, ten minutes late with flushed cheeks and a small paper bag in one hand, and a coffee cup in the other. 

“You’re late.” Hotch stated. 

“Yes Sir.” 

“Don’t let it happen again.” Hotch tried to remain stern, but he let a small smile spread on his lips when he noticed the little paper bag Spencer held. 

“Yes Sir.” Spencer smiled sheepishly as Hotch walked back to his office, and Spencer placed his satchel down on his desk before making his way over to Y/N’s desk, little paper bag and coffee cup in hand. “Morning Y/N!” He spoke, a little too excitedly for 8AM. 

“Hi Spencer, What you got there?” She smiled back, nodding towards the items. 

“Um well I remembered you saying that you loved the chocolate croissants from Tilly’s Bakery, and that your favourite drink was a vanilla latte, and I- um, I thought I’d stop by and get those for you on the way to work.” He fumbled over his words, like an idiot. His cheeks were red with embarrassment, and he thought he’d overstepped. 

“Tilly’s Bakery? Spencer that’s- that’s all the way across town, Thank you so much but you really didn’t have to go so out of your way.” She was shocked he would’ve done something so kind for her. Not only that, but he’d remembered her exact order, something that she’d said in mindless conversation over six months ago?

“It was really no trouble, I had to get something else from that side of town anyway.” It was a lie, he knew it. Yet he shrugged his shoulders and acted like it was no big deal, when really he’d woken up an hour early to get the subway across town just to see that smile on her face. 

“Oh, well thank you. So much. You’ve really made my day.” She smiled, and Spencer’s heart nearly burst. 

 “It’s okay. I try.” He joked, before turning back towards his desk, ignoring the proud smirk that Derek gave him from his own desk. 

Y/N had a grin on her face for the rest of the day, Spencer’s gesture really making her feel so much better. 

She loved him then.

The second time she knew she loved Spencer Reid was when he comforted her after a tough case.

 They were on the way home on the jet, and Y/N sat playing with her fingernails anxiously. The case had been bad, and involved children. They’d managed to save the last child, but couldn’t forget how five others had died before they could track down the unsub. 

Spencer had sat down across from her, watching her carefully before he spoke. “It wasn’t your fault, you know that, right?”

She looked up, surpised to hear his voice. “Yeah I know I just, I can’t help thinking if I was quicker at figuring it out then we could’ve-“ Her small voice broke mid-sentence, and in a very uncharacteristic move, Spencer reached out and took her hand in his, his thumb smoothing over the back of her hand comfortingly.

“Listen to me.” He spoke quietly, trying not to alert the rest of the team to her upset. “There was nothing different you could’ve done, okay?”

She nodded and smiled gratefully at him, but her emotions betrayed her, the tears slipping from her eyes.

He pulled his hand away, and she thought he was getting up to go back to his previous seat on the other end of the jet, but instead, and much to her surprise, he sat down next to her, placing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into him.

Y/N was shocked to say the least. Spencer Reid, the man who swore off touch because he was cautious of germs, was willingly holding Y/N to his chest, and he gave no indication of feeling uncomfortable about it. When she gave in and rested her head on his shoulder, he placed his head on top of hers. 

Derek nearly spat out his coffee at the sight, and the rest of the team looked bewildered to be honest. They’d never really seen this affection from Spencer, and on the rare occasion it was shown, it was with people he’d known for many years, not a few months. Y/N felt her eyelids droop and was lulled to sleep by the sound of his heartbeat.

She loved him then.

The third time she knew she loved Spencer Reid was at a party being thrown at Rossi’s place, to celebrate Y/N’s first year at the BAU.

Y/N had been dancing and drinking with the team all night, and had politely excused herself to get some fresh air. She found a balcony connected to one of the spare bedrooms on the second floor that overlooked the city. She leaned on the railing, taking a deep breath as she took in the view, the little lights of the town seeming so far away. 

“It’s a pretty great view, huh?”

She let out a little yelp of surprise and turned to face the voice, seeing a sheepish looking Spencer standing there, his hands rasied in a sort of surrender. 

“Sorry! It’s just me! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.” He profusely apologised and Y/N let out a small laugh as she shook her head.  

“No it’s okay. I just didn’t expect to see you there is all.” She smiled. “and yeah, it’s beautiful really.”

 “So are you.”

Smooth Spencer. Real smooth.

Her mouth opened in slight shock, and she really didn’t know what to say. Seeing her shocked and confused expression, Spencer began to ramble. 

 “What I’m trying to say is that I like you? Not just like a friend, I like like you, I have since you first joined and actually I’m pretty sure I’m kind of in love with you-“ He mumbled and winced when he realised what he’d just said. When she didn’t respond immediately he’s quick to speak again. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, you obviously don’t feel the same and now I’ve made you uncomfortable, I’ll just go.” He turned to leave, looking shamefully down at his feet. 

“Spencer, wait.” He turned back to face her nervously.

“I kind of love you too.” She confessed, and Spencer had never felt a relief as sweet as hearing her say those words. 

 “Oh thank god.” He murmured, coming to stand next to her again. They laughed together, and talk about nothing in particular as she looked out at the city, and he looked at her like she was the world.

She loved him then.

And he loved her too.

The fourth time she knew she loved Spencer Reid came a year into their relationship. She was spending the night at his apartment, watching some reruns of Doctor Who on TV, (a TV that Y/N had insisted he bought for that very purpose).

Somewhere between her head resting on his chest and his arms around her  she’d fallen asleep, and Spencer only noticed when something happened on screen that would normally illicit some kind of reaction from her, but instead she was silent.

He glanced down at her and smiled at the sight of her looking so peaceful. He reached over to the remote, turning the TV off. He then gently moved Y/N off of him, careful not to wake her. He stood, and then lifted her into his arms, carrying her bridal style towards his bedroom, her head resting gently on his shoulder. 

He gently placed her on the bed, removing her leggings successfully without waking her up, leaving her to sleep only in one of his shirts she’d stolen from him. He didn’t mind, they looked better on her anyway. It was a cold night, so Spencer grabbed a pair of socks from his drawer and slid them onto her feet, before laying next to her and pulling her to his chest, placing the covers over them to keep them warm. 

When she woke up the next morning, she noticed she was up before him, which was a rare occurance. She glanced down to her feet, and noticed how he’d put socks on her feet to keep her warm on one of the coldest nights of the year. When he woke up, he didn’t even take credit for it, just bashfully smiling and whispering “anything for you” when she thanked him.

She loved him then.

And he loved her too.

Spencer’s headaches were getting worse, so when he told Y/N he found a doctor who finally seemed to be helping him, she was estatic for him. 

Everything seemed perfect.

Then the cold nights that he held her close to his chest turned to cold nights where he’d turn his back to her and giggle quietly as he texted her, thinking Y/N was asleep but she wasn’t. Spencer would lock his phone, and turn back towards Y/N, pulling her into his arms to hold her tightly. It made her feel sick.

Mornings where he’d kiss her forehead and they’d make love became mornings where they had pretty meaningless sex, where he was the only one really getting any pleasure from it. Then he’d retreat to the bathroom and call her, speaking with hushed whispers, thinking Y/N couldn’t hear but she did. 

Every word. 

It made her feel physically sick, like he was using her, a warm body in the place of this other woman. 

What made her feel more sick was that she let him do it.

Y/N didn’t know when it happened. She spent so long in love with Spencer Reid that she didn’t really register when she fell out of it. She spent months in a haze, watching him have an emotional affair with some other woman in front of her. For the first few months she clung onto him and the love she still had for him for dear life, afraid she didn’t know how to live without him. 

but with every morning spent alone, every time she strained to listen to his conversations

 “Bye, Love You.”

Every time suddenly he’d leave on the evenings where they didn’t have a case, he’d tell her he got called in by Hotch to complete some paperwork, which was a half assed excuse that he hadn’t thought through properly, but Y/N had begun to lack the incentive to care. 

She eventually confided in Penelope about her fears, after months of dealing with them by herself, letting them eat away at her like a disease. Penelope had become much like a sister to Y/N in her time at the bureau, and Y/N knew she would be honest with her when she asked if she thought something was going on with Spencer. Penelope wanted to tell her she was being silly, but she’d noticed it too, as had the rest of the team.

JJ had noticed when Spencer sat next to Y/N on the jet home, he wouldn’t comfort her after a bad case like he used to. That he no longer looked at Y/N like she was the only person in the world that mattered. Instead, he would sit with his eyes locked on his phone, smiling at the screen as he typed, before he’d lace Y/N’s fingers with his, as if nothing was wrong.

Derek saw how he no longer bothered to bring her coffee or her favourite pastries. And on the off chance he did bring her one, he’d bring her something she didn’t like. (“Oh, I’m sorry, I guess I forgot you don’t like this one.)

Hotch noticed too, it was his job as Unit Chief to notice when his team members were acting differently, as it was up to him to decide if that difference would impact their ability to work. He’d noticed how Y/N and Spencer never came into work together anymore. Instead, Spencer would stumble in 10 minutes late with a smile on his lips that wasn’t because of Y/N.

Emily watched sadly as Y/N became a shell of a person, no longer bright and bubbly but numb and almost paralysed. She saw how Spencer didn’t seem to notice. 

It didn’t take the team long to conclude that Spencer was cheating. Not a physcial affair, but an emotional one was just as bad, if not worse. 

Spencer seemed to think he could get away with hiding his emotional affair. As if he wasn’t a part of a team of expert profilers. He did feel guilty. It was true, he loved Y/N. But his ego had been boosted so high with the idea that two women wanted his affection, when he was so used to being rejected, he let it get to his head. He didn’t love this other woman, not like he loved Y/N anyway, but he did love her attention. He craved it.

He began to notice how Derek scowled at him from time to time, for hurting the woman he protected and cared for like a little sister.

He saw how JJ would cut him off with a cold tone, not a nurturing, mothering tone like usual.

How Emily refused to work with him in the field, angered at him for the pain he was putting one of her best friends through. 

How Hotch wouldn’t even look at him, but remained professional because that was his job. In her time at the BAU, Y/N had become much like a daughter to him.

With every lie he told (and he couldn’t seem to keep track of them very well), Y/N fell more out of love with Spencer Reid. 

Eventually, she reached her breaking point. Y/N was so emotionally exhausted of living this way, so tired of mentally trying to pinpoint where everything had gone to shit, but she couldn’t. She didn’t care anymore. 

She knocked, and he seemed surprised to see her when he answered.

“Hey baby. I didn’t know you were coming over.” He smiled, and reached out for a welcoming hug, but she stepped back out of his reach, her hands coming up to gently push him off. 

“I just came to get my stuff.” She stated. It wasn’t a question, she wasn’t asking permission. Over the time they’d been together, she’d been keeping some clothes in a drawer that Spencer had cleaned out for her in his chest of drawers. She also kept some of her toiletries in his bathroom, as well as a few other items she’d placed around his tiny apartment. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, confused.

“You’ve been having an affair, and we’re done. I’m just collecting my things and I’ll go.” She spoke so nonchalantly, like the subject bored her. She was so numb, no tears fell and no words caught in her throat.

She was so fucking tired of this. 

“I don’t-“ He didn’t know why he tried to deny what he knew was true.

“Don’t start, Spencer. I know it’s true, and so does the team. We are profilers, you know.” She pushed past him, walking towards his bedroom. He stood shocked for a moment in his doorway, trying to process what had just happened. Of course she knew, of course the team knew.

 He scrambled to follow after her, and his breath hitched in his throat when he saw her collecting all her things and stuffing them in her bag.

“Y/N, please let me explain.” He tried.

“What is there to explain? You fell in love with her, you fell out of love with me. It happens.” The way she spoke in such a bored tone was scaring him. How easily she dismissed the love they had. 

“I don’t- I don’t love her. I promise I don’t I was just- god I was getting this attention I didn’t know what to do with and I liked the feeling.” He seemed confused as he spoke, like he couldn’t figure out why he ever got himself into this situation, why he’d ruined something so good for a meaningless fling. 

Y/N zipped up her bag and placed it over her shoulder, before moving to walk out the room.

He grabbed her hand, holding it tightly, forcing her to look at him.

“Wait, Y/N please don’t go. I love you. I’m so sorry, I don’t know where this all went wrong, where the attention got to my head but I don’t need her. I need you, I love you, please.” He was sobbing, begging.

She felt nothing. This was what his lying and sneaking around had reduced her to. When she saw the man she would’ve done anything for practically begging her not to go, she should’ve felt something. but she didn’t.

 “I don’t love you anymore, Spencer.” Her words were sharp, clear. They wounded him. He sobbed, and pathetically continued to beg as she ripped her hand from his grasp. 

She turned swiftly and left the small apartment. The click of the apartment door closing shut behind her left Spencer to be swallowed by the silence, and his heavy breaths and sobs filled the cold apartment. The anger he felt at himself came to the surface and soon he was trashing his apartment, pushing books off of shelves and shoving the paperwork from his desk.

He crumbled to the floor in sobs. Not only had his lost the respect of his team, his family, but he’d lost the love of his life too.

As Y/N walked out the apartment building, she smiled for the first time in months at the weight that was lifted off her chest. The sense of freedom she felt filled her with a sweet relief. She felt alive again. Being with Spencer had chipped away at her, but she was ready to rebuild herself, to do better, to start a new chapter in her life. 

Spencer loved her then.

But she no longer loved him.

-

When you go,

and would you even turn to say

 I don’t love you like I did yesterday.

[managedmischiefs]

north//chapter eight

okay this is the reblog of this chapter because I thought I fucked up. sorry to those on the taglist who are getting tagged a second time. please enjoy and ignore my craziness!!

genre: angst, some fluff

warnings: hospitals, mentions of family death, guns, and drugs

word count: 11.1k

AMELIA

I drag myself up the stairs of my apartment, rubbing the sleepiness out of my eyes. I nearly trip off the top stair in my tired haze but I manage to catch myself on the railing before I faceplant. My bedroom is dark and is only lit by the moonlight from the open window, but I wasn't sleeping anyway. I haven't gotten a full night’s sleep since Spencer left. I won't until he gets back and we can argue about who’s hogging the covers and he can kick me in his sleep and I can lay my head on his chest. 

I climb back into bed and tuck my legs under the duvet, trying my hardest to get comfortable on top of my freezing sheets. But before I can, my phone starts buzzing on the bedside table. I groan, cursing whoever is trying to call me at two in the morning. Unless it's Jenna or Frankie or Yaz and they're drunk and need a ride home, because this definitely wouldn't be the first time that happened. I reach over and pull my phone out of the charger, my blood running cold when I find Penelope’s contact. What in the world is she calling me about at two in the morning? What if it’s about Spencer? Is Spencer okay? Did he get hurt? Is Mike okay? She has never called me this late before and now that Spencer is upset while chasing a serial killer, his margin of error is so much smaller because he could let his emotions bleed into his work life. 

I brace myself for the worst and squeeze my eyes shut. "Hello?"

"Oh, thank god!" Penelope exclaims and I can hear that she's out of breath. "I know it's 2 am where you are but I called you three times and you didn't answer and-"

"Penelope," I instantly shut her up. My hands are starting to shake and I feel my chest getting tight in a hauntingly familiar way. "What's wrong?"

"There," she lets out a shaky breath, "there was this crazy shootout at a diner and the unsub went nuts and Spencer was wearing his vest but-" I gasp, tears falling down my cheeks already, "he got hit in the neck. He's in surgery now and me and our unit chief just landed in Texas but I thought you'd wanna know," I let out a strangled sob, falling back against my pillows and curling up. "I'm so, so sorry, Amelia. I-I wish I didn't have to make this call. But there's one more thing I have to tell you."

"No," I whimper, covering my face with my hand, "no more, please."

"The Sheriff," my breath catches in my throat and my hand drops from my face to grasp at the bedsheets, "he was there too."

"He's okay, Penelope," I beg and plead more than I have in the last few years. "Please tell me he's okay. Please tell me he's okay. I can't- please."

"He's fine," Penelope tells me quickly. "He got shot twice but they both hit his vest. He's got some bruises but he got discharged from the hospital a couple of hours ago. I just thought you should know. I'm on my way to the hospital with our section chief to check up on Spencer."

"Wait,” my eyes widen, a waterfall of tears cascading down my cheeks, “Penelope, how do you know about Mike-"

"Rossi," Penelope admits shamefully. "After the whole weird thing when he recognized you, he made me do a background check on you and-"

"Oh my god.”

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! He's one of my higher-ups! I had to! But when you think about the positive side, me doing that background check on you allowed me to know about Mike and I could ca-"

"I-I gotta get out there, Penelope," I stumble off my bed and rush towards my closet, lugging out the first duffle bag I see and stuffing random articles of clothing inside. “I need to see Mike and-and I need to see Spencer.”

"Don't worry about a ticket. I'll get one for you. Just pack and get to the airport."

I hang up and toss my phone aside, failing at containing my tears as I hastily pack for an emergency trip to Texas. I notice a small stack of clothes folded in the corner of the room, and I remember that Spencer left some sweats here the last time he slept over. So I stuff those in my bag too and then check my phone again, finding flight information from Penelope and responding with a million thank you's. I step into converse and don’t even take the time to tie them before I rush out of my house and to the airport. 

I'm sure I look like a complete mess as I drag myself through security, checking my phone every few seconds for some sort of update from Penelope. She only texts me once, telling me that Spencer is still in surgery, and that’s it. Nothing else. My cheeks are tear-stained and I occasionally burst into tears and I’m sure that everyone thinks I’m absolutely crazy. But once I get onto my red-eye, I have a row to myself where I can cry in peace.

Thankfully, the flight is short and I only have three hours to stress, but it's an excruciating three hours. I'm left to wonder if my boyfriend is going to make it off the operating table. I wonder if he's going to die not knowing that I'm in love with him. I wonder if he's going to die and his last memory of me will be my freezing cold shoulder. I'd never forgive myself if that happens. I don't think I could live if that happens. 

The wheels touch down in Texas and I don’t even have the change to revel in the fact that I’m back in the place where I spent parts of my childhood. I can’t grin at the ice cream shop that I went to with my brother and I can’t feel angry when I pass by the doctor’s office that my dad dragged me to. I just hail a cab and stare down at my phone, waiting for it to light up with a notification. I tell the cab driver to take me to Mike’s station, and I’m sure he’s just another person who thinks I’m crazy for going to a police station at six in the morning. I barely choke out a thank you when I pay the driver and then go rushing out of the cab and into the station.

I recognize some of the members of the BAU standing all the way at the back of the station but I see Mike first, and I start crying again. His face lights up when he sees me he instantly pulls me into a hug, nearly lifting me off the ground. I guess nobody told him I was coming.

"Are you okay?" I squeeze him as tight as I can, not caring that my iron tight grip might be hurting him more than he was before. "Penelope- she told me what happened and, oh my god, are you okay?" I pull away and inspect his face, searching for any injuries on his face, the same way I do to Spencer when he comes home from cases.

"I'm fine, Amelia. That technical analyst got you here?" I unravel myself from his hold and nod. "I'm happy to see you, but I know you wanna see Spencer. I'll bring you to the hospital."

Mike leans down to pick up the bag that I had dropped to the floor, gesturing to the door and leading me away. "I'm sorry. You know I miss you, I just-"

"I know," he cuts me off, pulling away and grabbing my duffle bag. "Let's go," As he leads me out, I turn my head and find one of my paintings up on the wall. Mike smiles, nudging my arm, but he grabs me and pulls me out faster. "I hung it up, I always do. Gotta brag about your talent."

We get into Mike’s cruiser and he heads off to the hospital, silence falling over us. He doesn’t know what to say to me and I’m too worried that if I speak, then I’ll never be able to stop crying. I squeeze my eyes shut and let my head fall onto the window, staring at the passing sights that I know so well. But then my mind wanders back to Spencer and how he must be feeling right now. Can he feel anything? Is he still in surgery? Is he still mad at me? Does he even want me here? The last time I saw Spencer, he was snarling and hissing at me and he hasn’t texted me at all since he left for this case. I made the wrong decision. He doesn’t want me here. I shouldn’t have come.

My hands fly up to cover my face as a new wave of tears fall down my cheeks. “He’s mad at me.”

"What? Amelia, what are you talking about?”

"Me and Spencer," I hiccup, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. "I met the BAU team and Dave recognized me and I recognized him and I ran out because I didn’t want him to say anything. But I haven't told Spencer anything yet because I'm scared he'll hate me and he was so mad at me because I left so quickly and I was such a shitty person to his friends and he’s not gonna wanna see me-"

"Oh, my gosh, Amelia, breathe. Of course he'll wanna see you. He's in recovery and he's been through a lot and he's gonna need your support," Mike pulls into the hospital entrance and it's the first time since Penelope called me that I've felt any type of relief. "Come on, we're here.”

I hop out of the car and it takes everything in me to not break into a sprint to get inside the hospital as fast as possible. So I wipe my cheeks and watch Mike grab my duffle bag and carry it inside, trailing far too slowly behind him. Mike signs us into the hospital and I don't even bother to put on my visitor sticker, I just let Mike hold it as he leads me into an elevator. My heart is pounding against my chest and my hands are shaking beyond control, but I can't stop either of those things. Not until I see Spencer breathing.

The elevator jerks to a halt and the doors slide open, my senses filling with the nauseating smell of bleach. My eyes search frantically for any sign of Spencer or the team, and I’m looking for what seems like absolutely forever. But when I see Penelope stepping out of a room, I sigh of relief. It takes her just a second to spot us at the end of the hallway, raising her hand to give us a wave. She points inside the room beside her and that's all I need to breeze past Mike and sprint down the hallway and into Spencer’s room.

I've clearly just interrupted Spencer's and Alex's conversation, but no part of me cares. Spencer is laying down in the bed, his neck wrapped in gauze, his eyes half-closed as he struggles to stay awake. But his eyes widen when he sees me and he starts to try and sit up, his hands pushing against the bed. "Amelia," he breathes out, his voice hoarse, face softening and tears pooling in his eyes.

I move swiftly past Alex and to the side of the bed, leaning over to hug him as softly as I can. His arms wrap tightly around my waist and he buries his face in my neck, prompting me to squeeze his shoulders just a bit more. I hear the door to the room close and I assume Alex left to give us privacy.

"What are you doing here?" Spencer whispers with a quivering voice, hands grasping at my sweatshirt. "You- how?"

"Penelope called me," I pull away from his embrace and kneel on the tiny bed, moving as close as I can to him without tugging on any wires. He looks relatively okay, despite the gauze covering his gunshot wound. He just looks tired. Absolutely exhausted and worn down with bags under his eyes and pale skin. He looks like he does, sometimes, after he wakes up. I place my hands on his cold cheeks, brushing my thumbs against his skin. “You told me you’d always be careful, Spencer. And I told you to be safe and to come home in one piece.”

"I’m still in one piece,” Spencer’s eyebrows raise and a smile attempts to show on his face, “just now with stitches in my neck.”

I rest my forehead against Spencer’s, both our eyelids fluttering closed and relishing in this split second of peace. My heart is pounding in my chest and my emotions, yet again, just come pouring out. I’ve spent hours not knowing anything about how Spencer was doing. I didn’t know if he was out of surgery or even if he was alive. It was terrifying and it really made me come to terms with my feelings for him. I thought I was content being on my own and just having meaningless relationships with guys, but I always knew Spencer was different. I knew there was something special about him from the beginning. I quickly realized that I rely on him more than I should and that I don’t think I’d be able to live without him.

“Spence,” I whisper, my breath hitting his face and a soft sigh falls from his lips, “I love you so much.” Spencer lets out a puff of air from his nose and I start to feel his tears falling onto my hands. My eyes fly open and I lift my head, wiping away his tears. “You don’t have to say it back right now. I just had to tell you now. I was so scared on the way here.”

Spencer raises his hand and places it on top of mine, giving me a tired smile. “I do, Lia. I love you. You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.” He moves his hand from mine and trails it down to my waist, trying to draw me closer. “I love you.” 

I scoot just a little bit closer to him, looking down again to make sure I’m not pulling on any wires or tubes. But on my journey to finding Spencer’s eyes again, my eyes lock on the gauze wrapped around his throat and the tiny spot of red in the side of it. I reach my hand out and let my fingers dance across his jawline, locking our eyes to check for any type of indication that he is hurting from my touch. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No, not at all," Spencer murmurs, his eyelids fluttering under my touch and his breathing starting to slow.

"Why don't you just lay back down? It'll make me feel better," I laugh, placing my hands on his shoulders and guiding him gently back down to the pillows. "Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm just-" Spencer sighs, reaching for one of my hands, "I'm really tired. You don't even know what this case has been like."

I brush his hair off his forehead, earning a small smile from him. He continues to melt into my embrace, sinking further and further into this incredibly uncomfortable bed. "Yeah, I'm sure you're exhausted, sweetheart,” he hums in response, finally giving in and letting his eyes close all the way, pressing his hand into my back again to keep me close. "You should get some sleep, Spence," when I try to slip off the bed to give him some space, his hand grips onto my sweater as he tries to keep my body against his. His eyes fly open in panic and he tries to sit up again. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?"

"Don't go," he begs with teary eyes, "I-I can’t be alone. You don't know what happened before."

“Okay,” I give him a comforting smile as I move my hand to the back of his head, guiding him back down to the pillows once more. I’ve seen him after cases, a lot of which he told me were challenging and taxing. I’ve seen him shed some tears and let down his guard down on the odd occasion that his emotions were really pent up. But this is so different than those times. Right now, he’s broken and scared and looks like a kicked puppy. I hate seeing him like this. He’s usually so strong, walking with his head held high, even if he’s anxious and trying to shrink into himself. This is heartbreaking to see. "What happened?" I brush my hands over his cheeks once more, his eyes starting to flutter once more. 

He breathes heavily for a moment, gulping as he nuzzles his cheek into my hand. "On the case, we figured out that there were a bunch of dirty cops working under the sheriff. And when they found out that I didn't die when I got shot, the main unsub showed up to try and shoot me. So Garcia had to get me in a wheelchair to get me outside and she pulled the fire alarm. Then the unsub paid off a nurse to try and give me medication that I'm allergic to and he had a gun and he tried to shoot me too and so Garcia had to shoot him-"

"Spencer, hey,” I stop him when he starts speaking all in one breath, “baby, breathe." He nods in the tiniest bit, scrunching up his nose and he fends off more tears. "Your team caught him, right? I'm right here, okay? You're gonna be okay, nothing's gonna happen. Just focus on yourself and on recovering."

"I just," he opens his eyes again and lets a few tears fall, "I don't wanna be alone right now."

I wipe those fresh tears and lean down to press my lips to his forehead. He lets out a shaky breath. "You won't be alone. I'm gonna be right here, I'm not going anywhere. I'm just gonna grab my bag from the sheriff and then I'm gonna come right back, okay? I won't even leave the doorway, I promise."

Spencer looks incredibly hesitant, but he nods anyway. "Okay, yeah. Just don’t leave."

"It'll be just a minute," I give him the sweetest smile I can muster up at the moment, planting one more kiss on his forehead before crawling off the bed. Like I promised, I never leave Spencer's line of sight and stand right in the doorway. Alex, Penelope, and Mike are all talking right across the hallway, and they look up when the door opens. I ask for my bag and let Mike know that I’ll be staying for a while and that I will say goodbye before I head home, then close the door behind me.

“Doing okay, sweet face?" I toss my bag aside and sit on the edge of the bed once more. He seems to relax with every step closer to him, and when I place my hand on his leg, he relaxes completely.

"Considering I got shot in the neck and then almost shot again twice after that?" Spencer sasses, making me snort out a laugh. “I’m okay, I guess.”

"You're ridiculous,” I scoot away once more to try and grab my bag, but Spencer grips my arm and tugs me closer to him.

"Can you come lay with me?" Spencer begs.

I glance around his bed and at the array of wires he’s connected to. It was hard enough to stay away from them when I was just sitting beside him. Laying down is gonna be significantly harder. "I don't wanna hurt you or pull on any wires.”

"You won't," Spencer insists, shifting himself over so there's room for me to squeeze beside him on his uninjured side. "Please?"

"You should be resting," I counter, but reach to unlace my shoes nonetheless. “It’s been a long day for you.”

"I don't want to," Spencer pouts, but his body betrays him as he lets out a roaring yawn, his face turning into a grimace at the pressure on his neck. 

"Fine,” I fetch my laptop from my backpack and then slide until the ridiculously thin blanket. “You’re lucky you’re girlfriend isn’t a technophobe or else you’d be very bored right now.” I roll a table over the bed and set my laptop down, moving my gaze back to Spencer’s drooping eyes. He fights to stay awake, forcing his eyelids open every time they start closing. “What do you wanna watch, dove?”

"Can we watch a Christmas movie?" He requests, resting his cheek against the top of my head. I almost speak up to tell him that this position will probably hurt his neck, but I don’t want to ruin his comfortable position, especially if it’ll lull him to sleep.

"Sure," I open up a totally legal website and search up The Santa Clause, pressing play and then relaxing into Spencer. I’m not entirely sure why he wants to watch a Christmas movie, of all things, but I don’t question it. I just let out a yawn of my own and rub my eyes, feeling the exhaustion start to set in.

"You should get some sleep too," Spencer whispers. "I'm sure you didn't sleep a lot," I hum as a lame response, feeling his hands intertwining with mine. "As long as you're here then I'll be fine. And if you sleep then I'm more likely to fall asleep too.”

"No statistics for why that is?" I quip, glancing up at him with a smile.

"I'm in the hospital, give me a break," Spencer chuckles and he cranes his neck to kiss my forehead. "Just go to sleep. I love you.” 

My heart pounds against my chest as he says those beloved words again, and I only manage to whisper my own proclamation of love before I drift off. 

///

I’m woken up by Spencer shifting around beside me, and my senses are awoken by soft grunts and whispered words of frustration. I force my eyes open and look up at Spencer. "What's wrong? Are you okay?”

"Sorry, sorry," Spencer whispers, and I find that he's holding a jello cup, "just couldn't get this open, the oximeter is in the way," I take the cup from his hand and pull off the top, handing it back to him. "Thank you. And I'm sorry I woke you. You should go back to sleep because you’re-“

"No, it's okay. I shouldn't sleep for too long anyway," I look to the table and find my laptop is now closed and an untouched tray of food is beside it, aside from the missing jello cup. "Sweetheart, you need to eat. You're not gonna get better if you don't eat to get your strength back.”

"I feel fine," Spencer responds, shoving a spoonful of jello in his mouth. “And I am eating. See? Jello.”

I roll my eyes at him, sliding off the bed and moving the table away. "You should eat more than jello. I know it’s your favorite but it’s all sugar and you need more than that," Spencer keeps his gaze down on his jello, avoiding eye contact with me while I lecture him on a topic he definitely knows way more about than me. "I just want you to get better so you can get home, okay? I'm sure you don't wanna be in the hospital for much longer and you'd rather be at home, right?"

"Hospital food is gross," Spencer sighs, stabbing his spoon in the jello. "I've never liked it.”

I sit on the side of the bed and cross my legs under me, leaning over him, pushing his messy curls out of his face. "I know it sucks, but you've gotta eat. But if it makes you feel any better, I think you look much better now that you've gotten some sleep.”

Spencer gives me a small smile, raising his eyebrows. "Are you implying I looked bad yesterday?"

"Yesterday, you looked like you got shot. Today, you look like you're tired and you've got gauze around your neck.”

"I guess that's an improvement," Spencer shrugs and then shoves another spoonful of jello in his mouth. I guess I’ll have to go scour the hospital for more jello, especially if that’s the only thing Spencer will eat.

"I know I said you look a little better but did getting some sleep help?" Spencer continues to keep his gaze down on his cup of jello. "Are you in any pain? Do you want me to get a nurse to up your painkillers?"

"No!" Spencer blurts out, but he seems to retract back into himself right after speaking, his eyes locking on his jello. "No, just- I'm fine, I don't need it."

I furrow my eyebrows, bringing my fingers under his chin, lifting his gaze. "I'm just trying to help you, dove. I don't want you to be in pain or uncomfortable."

"I'm okay, really, I am," Spencer tells me yet again. "I mean, I've got stitches in my neck and I wanna be in my own bed but I'm okay."

"Alright," I give in far too easily. It's not worth arguing with a boy in a hospital bed. "Eat your disgusting jello."

Spencer scoffs as I drop my hand from his chin, crawling off the bed and stretching out my tensed up muscles. "I don't understand how you don't like jello."

"It's gross, Spencer. The texture is weird and it makes me uncomfortable. It's the same reason I don't like tomatoes- the texture."

"You don't like jello or tomatoes. I'm not sure this is gonna work out between us," Spencer jokes, taking a big spoonful of jello and shoving it in his mouth. "Mm, amazing."

"Gross.”

I see Spencer's eyes travel over my shoulder and then he smiles in the most adorable way, his eyes becoming five shades brighter. "Hi, guys."

I turn my head and find Spencer's team coming into the room. I plaster on the most genuine, authentic, sweet smile I can. I'm sure they're all a bit wary of me since my first impression inevitably left a bad taste in my mouth, but I know and I’m sure they all know that now isn’t the time to be hostile towards. Spencer needs as much support as he can get. I deserve hostility and side swipes for how I acted but not right now.

"Hey there, kid," Morgan smiles, reaching down to pat Spencer’s leg over the blanket. "How're you feeling?"

I turn my head back to Spencer with a soft smile and see that he's already looking back at me. "I'm okay. Thanks for coming. How's Garcia doing?"

"She's shaken up, understandably," JJ sighs, her hands tucked away in her pockets. "She's sitting in the hallway."

I turn back to Spencer, resisting the urge to brush his hair back again, and get on my feet again.. "I'm gonna go talk to her, just for a minute. Are you gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Go ahead.” 

I give the rest of the team one more smile for good measure and then leave the room, hurrying down the hallway and avoiding running nurses. Sure enough, I find Penelope sitting on a bench beside the elevators, typing away on a laptop. If she notices my presence then she doesn’t acknowledge me. She just continues to move her fingers at lightning speed. "Hi," I say softly, tearing her attention away from the keyboard and to me.

When her gaze meets mine, I can see how distraught she is. Her eyes are bloodshot and she has tear streaks in her makeup with black smudges where winged eyeliner used to be. I can’t blame for being like this though. Penelope doesn't shoot people. Penelope sits behind a desk with her stuffed animals to protect her and her colorful outfits to cheer her up. She's not out in the field with a gun and bullet proof vest, chasing serial killers. She’s not a fighter, she is the epitome of a lover.

"Oh," she slams her laptop shut, scooting over, giving me room to sit down, "hi, Amelia. How's Boy Wonder?"

I resist the urge to laugh at the adorable nickname that I plan on using against Spencer when he’s feeling better. “He’s doing good, Pen. I think he got some sleep and he’s eating jello and Spencer physically can’t be sad when he’s eating jello. He’s okay.”

"I shot someone, Amelia," she bursts out, throwing her hands up to cover her face and bursting into a new wave of tears. "Did you know that? A nurse tried to shoot Spencer and I shot him instead and, oh god, why did I do that?"

"Penelope, you saved his life," I scoop Penelope into a hug and tuck her head under my chin, the same way I do to Spencer when he’s upset, and the same way I do to my brothers and sisters when they are crying. "I know it's hard and shooting a gun is really scary but you saved Spencer's life. You protected him from a killer, someone who would take him away from you, and me, and the team forever. I’m sure it was really hard and really scary, but you saved Spencer’s life today."

Penelope looks up at me, her lips in a pout as she sniffles relentlessly. "You're good at this. You- I really like you. I know I've told you this but I like you."

"I know, P," I laugh, reaching forward to wipe her tears and cleaning off her smudged eyeliner. "I'm a protector. That's the way I grew up. I'm-" I let out a sigh and drop my hand, "you did a background check on me so you know why."

Penelope's eyes widen as she suddenly remembers the background check, and now she’s the one dragging me into a hug. "Oh my god, oh my god, I'm so, so, so, so sorry about that. Rossi made me, he's-"

"He's your boss, you told me," I murmur. "I'm not happy about it but it's whatever. I, um, like I told you, I haven't told Spencer yet but I know I'll have to soon."

"I just-" Penelope pulls away and puts her hands on my cheeks, "you're so pure and innocent and beautiful. You've got a good heart and you're kind and loving and capable of love and I'm just, I'm glad you became one of the good eggs and not one of the bad eggs."

I scoff out a laugh. "You mean bad eggs with tattoos and piercings?"

Penelope gasps, pressing her hand to her chest in surprise. "No, no. You're not bad for having tattoos and piercings. I mean, bad as in the people we hunt every day. The people we put away aren't capable of love in any way at all. But you, you clearly are. We've seen killers who have tattoos of their victims and cult tattoos and swastikas but you have strawberries and turtles and cute things. You're not a bag egg. You're good for Spencer, and you're good for me too so be my best friend, please, and give me another hug."

I laugh and try to make it as convincing as possible, happily wrapping my arms around her shoulders again. We sit in silence for a few moments, enjoying each other's company and getting to breathe sighs of relief for the first time in hours. "I'm gonna say it again. Thank you for saving Spencer."

"As much as I hate guns, I'd protect my family any day," Penelope wipes her cheeks once more and then stands, adjusting her skirt.  

I follow suit, standing and picking up Penelope’s laptop. "Let's go back to Spencer, okay? He's a little wary of being in the hospital and having all his best friends there is gonna help."

Penelope holds my hand as we walk down the hallway to Spencer’s room, our hands swinging between us in the most cliche way possible. But my pace slows significantly when we get to the door and I watch the team interact with Spencer, making him laugh and bringing out his beautiful smile. A pout comes to my face.

"I don't think the team likes me very much, not after I made such a scene in the bullpen," I suddenly admit. "I don't blame them. I made myself seem very suspicious, and, you know, I'm technically a criminal, but-"

"They're really nice people, Amelia," she tells me softly. "All we want is Spencer happy, and you make him happy. That's all we care about, whether you're spray painting a brick wall in the middle of the night or not."

I let out a laugh, my voice echoing off the walls. "Wow, thank you, P. I appreciate it."

"I've decided I'm obsessed with you. Come hang by the BAU all the time. Braid my hair more."

///

SPENCER

Waking up next to Amelia is the most amazing experience. She is the only woman I’ve ever slept in the same bed with and I waited thirty years for the right woman. Her face being the first thing I see when I open my eyes in the morning is ethereal. It lets me know that my day is going to be perfect, even if my days will be like my next few weeks, stuck in my house while I'm on leave from my injury.

But waking up next to my beautiful girlfriend is how I wish I could start every single day. I'm usually awake before her and I get to watch her sleep, brushing her hair out of her face and listening to her hum when our legs intertwine and trace my pointer finger over her tattoos. I didn't think that my heart could pound so fast just by laying under a blanket with another human being. But then I realized that what I'm feeling is love. I'm madly in love with this girl and I can't stop how hard I'm falling, not that I would want to stop.

Amelia decided that she would stay with me at my apartment for a while to take care of me when I returned home from Texas. She was happy to take the role of my caregiver, especially if it means we get six weeks to ourselves in my apartment. So the second we got back to Virginia, Amelia packed a bag and situated herself right next to me in bed.

Nothing is out of the ordinary when I wake up first this morning, my neck stiff from the uncomfortable position I rolled into sometime during the night. My eyes linger over to the peaceful angel beside me, and I can't help the smile that comes to my face. Her cheek is pressed against the pillow and her lips are parted, her hair fanned out against the sheets. She's drowning in an oversized tee-shirt and her butterfly necklace is hanging loosely around her neck. She looks exhausted, that's for sure, but she's been busy taking care of me in the last few days. I have no intention of waking her up but my neck is sore and I need to move around before it starts to hurt too badly.

I shuffle around and try to be as quiet and still as possible, but I make a movement that’s too quick and it sends a shock of pain up my neck. A hiss falls out of my mouth before I can think to hold it in and in an instant, Amelia is awake.

"Are you okay, Spence?" I hear Amelia's squeaky morning voice and then her hand is reaching for me blindly, fingers batting at my chest before she rests it there, her head still pressed into the pillow.

"I'm fine," I tell her when I settle back against my pillow, placing my hand atop hers to calm her down. "Just wasn’t in a comfortable position," Amelia hums and doesn't even bother to open her eyes as she scoots closer to me, moving her head to share my pillow with me. It brings a smile to my face and I bring my free hand up to brush the hair off her face, allowing the sunlight to illuminate her cheekbone. Sleep calls me back to its grasp but I can’t get myself to close my eyes and stop admiring Amelia’s beauty.

"You're staring," Amelia murmurs. "Anybody ever tell you that's not polite?"

"You're beautiful," I whisper, bringing a small smile to her lips. She tries to suppress it but she fails, scrunching up her nose, “and cute," I correct myself now, trailing my fingers down her arm until I get to her hand, intertwining our fingers. "Are you hungry?"

"A little bit," Amelia's eyes finally flutter open and she stares up at me. She lets her smile shine through, craning her neck to press a kiss to my jaw. "Want some breakfast?"

"Yes, please.”

I purposely don’t try to climb out of bed yet and watch Amelia get up first. My cheeks turn bright red when her tee-shirt rides up and gives me a perfect view of her undies. And I can swear that Amelia knows I’m looking because once she’s steady on her feet, she reaches up to the ceiling and stretches herself as tall as she can. When she settles back on her heels, she twists around and smirks. “You’re still staring.” 

The red tint of my cheeks don’t get lighter as I push myself out of bed, following Amelia when she scurries towards the kitchen. “And you’re still beautiful.”

Amelia’s giggles reverberate off the wall when we get into the kitchen. I become fully convinced that she caught me staring at her butt when the first thing she does is stretch up to the ceiling again. She never does that. I stare shamelessly now, and Amelia doesn’t give me another smirk before she starts pulling out ingredients for pancakes. I stand right beside her and pull out the bowl, perfectly measuring every ingredient and adding it to the bowl.

"Shouldn't I be the one doing most of the work?" Amelia sasses as I pour batter onto the skillet. "You're the one with the gunshot wound.”

"I'm capable of making pancakes," I nudge her hip when I lean over her for a spoon, and she slides behind me and rests her head against my back. “We should eat in bed.”

"Hey," she whispers, and I feel her pressing kisses against my clothed back, "guess what?"

I play along, mimicking her mischievous tone. "What?"

"I love you.” She sounds so sweet when she says those words and every time she does, another brick from my wall gets beat down and leaves a gaping hole, making my vulnerability shine through. And as the days pass, I become more and more okay with being vulnerable around the woman I love.

So I let a smile come to my face and let myself melt into Anelia’s embrace, my skin burning every time her lips press against my shirt. "I love you too.”

We swiftly finish cooking and then carry our plates back to the bedroom, settling under the duvet again. I lean against the headboard while Amelia sits at the foot of the bed, way too far away for my liking. But she sits with her legs straight out and her toes touch my calf and it makes the distance a little more bearable. 

I don’t really notice the way that Amelia goes completely silent because I’m so hungry that I’m scarfing down my pancakes. I see her awkward glances around the room but I don’t think anything of them. Not until she sets her fork down on her plate. Her pancakes remain untouched.

I furrow my eyebrows at her, slowly placing my own fork down. “Lia? You okay?” She nods her head, her gaze dropping down to her plate. She picks up her fork again, stabbing the top pancakes once or twice and then putting it back down. “Amelia?” 

"Yeah,” she answers quickly, quietly. She starts to nod her head at nothing, jabbing her fork completely into her stack of pancakes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m totally fine. I just-“ she wiggles her hips and then clears her throat, “yeah, I, well,” she takes one more agonizing pause and then speaks again, “my dad is a serial killer.”

It's an odd thing to blurt out, that's for sure. I freeze where I am- mouth open and hands by my sides and my breath caught in my throat. Amelia’s father is a serial killer? How could I not see this? This is what I’m trained to do. But the unknown details of Amelia’s father start to loom over me and the tension starts to build the longer I don’t say anything. And I’m sure my silence doesn’t help Amelia get the courage to say anything else. She just keeps her eyes on her plate and doesn’t dare to look up from it. But I can't even think of a good response. Not a what? or excuse me? or huh? because which of those fit this situation?

"He married my mom straight out of high school and they had me and then my little brother," she's speaking so quietly that I barely hear her. Amelia starts stabbing her pancakes as she speaks, clearly as a distraction. "Apparently, after my brother was born, he started killing these random women. I was told that he killed because he wanted another girl instead of a boy, but what kind of a reason is that to kill random women?”

“Damian Kelsey.” The name slips out of my mouth unconsciously. “He shot victims of opportunity and then put the symbol for female on their foreheads with blood. I studied him in school.”

“Yep,” Amelia nods and she already reaches her hands up to wipe her cheeks, “that’s Dad.” 

“Well,” I gauge Amelia’s reaction to my voice and I debate if I should finish my thought, and when she doesn’t say anything new, I decide to, “that means I learned about you, too. Damian Kelsey was-“ Amelia starts nodding, “horribly abusive to his family.” 

“He beat the shit out of me for my whole childhood. I can’t remember a time when he wasn’t drunk and screaming at me and my mom and shoving us against walls and threatening us with knives and guns. I didn’t even go to school. I just hid in my room all day and hoped he wouldn’t come upstairs.” Amelia hunches over and puts her head in her hands. “Then my brother came along and suddenly, it all got so much worse. I started shielding him from the beatings and I started hearing my mom screaming at night from her bedroom. It was so awful. But I kept telling myself that I had to stick through it so I could protect Cody.”

“Cody.” 

"Cody," she whispers, almost in confirmation. It’s as if she hasn’t said his name in a long time and needed confirmation that, yes, he was a real person. She keeps her head down but moves her arms, staring down at the abundance of permanent ink on her arms. I catch sight of her lips starting to wobble and a few tears wetting her Starry Night. "He was really smart. He loved the stars and the planets. He used to beg me to sneak out to get him astronomy books from the library down the street. You would’ve loved him. He was so young but so smart. He wanted to be an astronaut.” 

I reach forward and pull her plate of pancakes off her lap, getting them completely out of the way. She takes this as an invitation to crawl into my lap, which it was, and curls up against my chest, gently tucking her head into my neck. I’m not sure what to say to her in this moment. I want to help her to make her feel better but I know the details of this case and how horrifically it ended and knowing that my amazing, beautiful, positive girlfriend was the girl who’s father I wrote a ten page research paper on makes it so much worse. 

I remember learning about the Damian Kelsey case in my classes and grimacing at the details of what happened to his wife and children. And now, I’ll never be able to think of this case ever again. It hurts me to know that Amelia went through that, which is an incredibly selfish thought. Amelia lived through it but I have the privilege of only learning about it. So I do what I can to comfort her, which ends up to just be forehead kisses and a tight embrace as I try to form words.

"My mom got pregnant again, a few years after Cody was born. And I remember the days after my mom told us as being the best of my childhood. My dad was sober and everyone seemed happy and we even ate dinner in the dining room all together. We never did that,” she pauses and slides her hands around my waist, pressing her body completely against mine. I hold her as tight as I can. “But then my mom went to the doctor and found out she was having another girl and it all got so much worse. Dad came home from the doctor screaming and me and Cody hid in the closet for hours upon hours. And this went on for months and as my mom got closer to her due date, the abuse just got so much worse-“ 

"Amelia, you don't have to tell me this," I close my eyes and try to ignore the way her body is trembling in my embrace and how her tears are soaking the collar of my shirt. “I already know what happened and-“

"I do," she insists shakily. “One day, Cody begged me to get him a new book from the library. He was asking me to read him a book about Jupiter while we look up at the stars and I kept telling him no because Dad was drunk but he was relentless. So I eventually gave up and climbed out the window and went to get him some books.” 

Amelia lifts her head from my neck and presses her hands to her face before I can see her tear stained cheeks. She breathes deeply in sync with my breaths, her nose scrunching up as she falls deep into her memory. If she wasn’t so distraught, maybe I’d let myself acknowledge how adorable she looks when she scrunches her nose like that.

“By the time I got back, they were dead. My dad dragged them to the greenhouse and shot them. He shot my six year old brother and my mother who was nine months pregnant and two weeks away from her due date. He just left them there to bleed out.” 

“I know,” Amelia doesn’t seem comforted whatsoever by me already knowing about this case, otherwise known as her childhood. It doesn’t make her breathe easier and it doesn’t stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks.

“So I called the police and eventually the FBI came and I met Gideon and Dave. They promised that they would catch my dad and eventually, they did. And that’s why,” Anelia looks at me for the first time since she started talking, her eyes wide and bloodshot, “Dave recognized me when I went to the BAU. But I didn't want you to find out about this until I was ready to tell you and I thought Dave would just blurt it out, so I tried to run away.”

"It's okay, Lia,” I finally reach forward and start wiping away her tears, watching her eyelids flutter closed. She seems to find a moment of tranquility in the midst of this horrifying story, and I let my mind wander for a moment. I’m the one who can provide these calm moments for her? Seriously? But I don’t let my mind drift off too far and I jolt myself back to reality. “I’m not mad about you leaving like that anymore. I understand. It’s fine, I promise.” Amelia smiles just the tiniest bit, leaning her cheek into my hand and almost purring with pleasure. But she manages to collect herself and continue where she left off.

"Gideon and Dave came and spent two weeks searching for my dad. And in that time, I spent it sleeping in the police station because I didn't have anywhere else to go. But Dave was so sweet and he'd bring me food and tell me nice stories to get my mind off of the situation. I just always remembered him because he was so amazing to me and I guess he remembered me too. But at the station, I met Mike, who was the sheriff you just worked with in Texas. He wasn't sheriff at the time but he was really nice to me and brought my food and checked up on me. But after the BAU caught my dad, I was put into foster care.” 

I know that foster care is not the best place to be. I’ve seen the negative effects of foster care for far too many years and I know that not being placed in a good home makes for a tough childhood- one that Amelia just admitted to having. I find myself staring down at Amelia and remembering all the times she has smiled and radiated sunshine and picked me up when I was down. Did she manage to come out of foster care strong or is she insanely good at hiding her dark feelings? 

"I spent a year going in and then running away from five horrible and abusive foster care homes across the country. It was horrible and I got abused just as badly as I did at home with my dad. I just kept running away because nobody was listening and nobody cared and I didn’t wanna take the abuse. And then when I was eleven, I got too fed up with being abused, so I ran away again. My fifth foster home was in Oklahoma and I got all the way back to the police station in Texas. I met up with Mike, he called Child Services, and he took me in. And I stayed there until I was eighteen and I went off to college, and then I moved here.” 

She goes quiet after that, bringing her hands up to her cheeks and wiping her tears. The silence swells in my ears. And no matter how hard I make my brain work to figure out what the hell I should say to make her feel better, I just malfunction. I see my girlfriend crying in my arms and suddenly I have no idea what to do. She always knows what to do for me and I’m failing her right now.

“I'm sorry, Spencer,” Amelia whispers from behind her hands. “I'm sorry I never told you. I've never told anyone before and I always refer to my foster parents as my parents so I don't go around telling people my dad was a killer and my family was just two of his many victims and-“

"Shh, shh," I finally get myself to speak, “Lia, I’m not mad. I understand why you wouldn’t wanna tell me.”

"And I felt so guilty about how I acted when I met your team. They must hate me for how I acted.”

"They don't hate you," I insist, pulling her hands away from her face so I can see her. She’s still pouting and no matter how many times I wipe her cheeks, her face doesn’t lift. "They don't hate you one bit, I know I don’t.”

"Yeah, well, you told me that you love me for the first time so of course you don't hate me," Amelia murmurs, flopping over and pressing her face into my neck. 

I course my fingers through her hair, earning the quietest mewl from Amelia, her eyelids fluttering. The act seems to calm her down enough to slow her breathing, and to allow her grip on my shirt to loosen. Yet again, I’m struggling for the words to say that will comfort her even more. Just playing with her hair isn’t going to help her feel better for longer than a few seconds. But my eyes sweep across my bedroom, illuminated by the rising sun, and I land on Amelia’s backpack in the corner. It’s covered in an array of different colors and specks of glitter, and it surfaces a memory.

"There was a painting in the station that I thought had your signature on it. That really was yours, wasn’t it?"

A smile comes to Amelia’s face for the first time since we woke up. "Yeah, I saw it when I was at the station too. I send Mike artwork all the time for him to hang up at home or in his station." 

"Hey,” I tuck my fingers under Amelia’s chin, bringing her gaze back to mine. Her eyes are glassy and she’s still pouting. “I love you. I don’t want you to think that my opinion of you has changed, because it hasn’t. I love you just as much, if not more, than I did yesterday.”

"Thank you for saying that. I love you too.”

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?" I intend for this question to calm Amelia’s anxiety and show her that she can confide in me about anything, but then a bashful smile comes to her face and my eyebrows furrow.

“I mean, while I’m confessing things,” she lets out a tense laugh and I almost let out a sigh of relief when I notice her starting to calm down again. "So it’s not nearly as bad as my childhood, but, you know, you’re an FBI agent so you might not enjoy this.”

My eyes widen at her. “Excuse me?” 

"Well I’m not a criminal but-"

"This is not promising!”

"Alright! Alright!” She lets out a genuine laugh for the first time. “I’ve been arrested for illegal street art. A few times.” 

"Are you serious?" Amelia lets out a roaring laugh, tossing her head back in the most utterly stunning way. She is almost completely oblivious to my shock, and if she isn’t oblivious, she doesn’t seem to care. "How many times counts as a few?"

"Six," she blurts out. "But now I've got an FBI agent on my side!"

"That doesn’t make you exempt from getting arrested!" I shake my head at her but I couldn’t care less about this revelation. Honestly, I’m not surprised. Amelia has a rebellious nature at times and I would expect that after her childhood that has no freedom, she would want to enjoy her newfound adult freedom- even if it means getting arrested for doing graffiti.

Amelia’s laughter dies down and she brings the lightened mood down with it. Her face drops and she slowly unravels herself from my embrace, crawling a few feet away and pulling her knees to her chest. I watch her shut herself off from me, leaning her forehead against her knees.

She’s embarrassed and ashamed of the story she just told me. I can only imagine that she feels worse about it since it has basically been forced out of her. I can tell that she wasn’t going to tell me so soon but after Rossi recognized her, she knew that it would only be a matter of time before he let something slip. I feel infinitely bad for Amelia. But there’s not much I can say to her to make her feel better. 

I’ve spent years working with victims and family members of serial killers and I’ve spent those years figuring out the right things to say to comfort them. But this isn’t the right situation and Amelia isn’t the right person to use basic lines like it’s not your fault and everything will be okay. That’s not the kind of encouragement she needs. She needs reassurance that I’m not mad that she didn’t tell me about her childhood and that I still love her regardless.

I love her. I love Amelia. What an amazing feeling.

I lock eyes on her tiny figure, curled up at the foot of the bed. Amelia’s shoulders occasionally jolt in the exact same way they do when she cries. Reaching out and dragging her back into my arms seems far too abrasive. I go with the next best option for comfort- honesty.

"So," I stretch out my legs, almost as a silent way to invite Amelia in. But I keep my gaze off of her and look down at my hands. "My life story doesn't quite compare to yours but, well, my dad left me and my mom when I was really young. My mom has schizophrenia and he couldn't deal with her episodes anymore, so he abandoned us. He just- he wrote a note and left it for me to find and got the hell out," Amelia looks up at me with her tear stained cheeks, lips parted and her pretty eyes wide. "So I spent most of my childhood being bullied in the most horrible ways, and my mom's episodes were so bad that she barely noticed.”

I’m not scared to tell Amelia. Maybe it’s because I know that her childhood is far worse than mine or maybe it’s just because I’m comfortable around Amelia. I hate talking about my childhood with anyone at all. This is the only time in my life that I’ve felt comfortable while sharing the story of getting tied to a flagpole and being ignored by my mother and abandoned by my father. I know that Amelia won’t judge me and I know she won’t use this information against me. She’ll listen and tell me she loves me and we’ll move on. She’s amazing like that. 

"And so when I was eighteen, I had her admitted to a mental facility because I couldn't take care of her anymore. She's been in a facility in Vegas ever since. I barely get to see her because I work so much but I write her letters all the time," I take a breath and run my fingers through my hair. Amelia finally looks up at me with tears in her eyes, slowly unraveling herself and wiping the tears away from her cheeks. But as she’s opening up, I’m starting to close off, letting my thoughts run wild as I recall all the worst moments in my life. "Schizophrenia is genetic, did you know that? My mom could’ve passed it on to me. I mean, schizophrenic breaks happen in your early twenties but-"

"You're thirty," Amelia whispers so softly that I barely even hear her. "You're not in your early twenties.”

"I know," I look down at my hands, trying to be strong and fend off the tears that pool up in my eyes, “but I'm still scared. I love my job and I love the life I live. I love you," a smile breaks through on her face at this revelation, her lips quivering. "I don't want that to go away because I inherited something I can’t control.”

"It won't," she whispers, shaking her head. "I won't.” Amelia reaches for me, sitting up on her knees with every intent to come closer again. But I shake my head back at her and hold out a hand, silently telling her to stop.

"There's more," There’s always more. Her face softens, almost like she's disappointed at this. And I don't make a joke of it like she made a joke out of her arrests, because it's not a joke.

I pull at my hair because I don't want to tell her, but she's been transparent with me, so I need to do the same. Amelia is suddenly in front of me, pulling my hands out of my hair, intertwining our fingers gently. She brings our enlaced hands up and presses kisses to my knuckles, holding them in her lap, encouraging me to go on. Amelia gives me a soft smile, but I can't look at her face. I don't have it in me to face her with this incredibly embarrassing information. "A while ago-“ my voice is shakier than I expected it to be, "a couple years ago, I got kidnapped by an unsub. Tobias Hankel. JJ and I split up when we shouldn't have and the unsub knocked me out and tied me up.” 

Amelia squeezes my hands, her thumbs rubbing against my knuckles. "You don't have to tell me," she whispers, leaning in close. “I know we’re sharing but if this is too much then I can wait for-“

I squeeze my eyes shut and fend off all of the images that resurface in my brain. "I do. I need to tell you,” I insist. "He tied me up and he tortured me and he made me pick which innocent people he would kill and he made me watch him kill them. And he-" I shutter, hanging my head in shame, "he forced me to take drugs. He injected me with dilaudid, it's a really strong painkiller. Then he made me overdose and I-I actually died for a few minutes. The team saved me after but-“ I let out a sigh, pulling my hands away from Amelia’s and covering my face. “But I got addicted, Amelia. I took drugs from the unsub when he got killed and I got addicted. I did dilaudid for months and I couldn't stop. I lashed out at the team and I shut everyone out, it was so horrible.”

"Oh, Spencer," Amelia exhales, leaning forward to hug me. But she's hugging me gently, and I can't tell if it's because of my injury or because of what I've just told her. She’s holding me like I’m a porcelain doll that could break if she squeezes too tight. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that.”

"I'm clean, I promise," that's the next thing I say. It has to be. I can't mislead her into thinking I'm still an addict. I can’t let her think that she’s dating some junkie. I need her to know that I’m a responsible federal agent who won’t go near drugs anymore. Amelia needs to know that I will love her without distraction and that I will stay clean. 

"How long?" Amelia drags her nails against my back, her lips brushing against my neck, and I tighten my arms around her waist.

"Six years. Almost seven.”

Amelia pulls away suddenly, her eyes widening. "Oh my god, that's why you didn't want painkillers in the hospital. Spencer, I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay. You didn't know. The nurses knew, it's on my chart to not give me narcotics.”

Amelia sighs and brings our hands up to her lips again and presses a long kiss to my knuckles. "I love you so much, okay? You didn't deserve to go through something like that, Spence. You're such," her lips quiver, "you're such a beautiful person on the inside and the outside, and I'm so glad I've met you.”

"Come here," I whisper, pulling my hands out of hers and inviting her into my lap, which she happily crawls into. Her head falls into my chest and I wrap my arms around her, kissing the top of her head. "I don't know where I'd be without you. Lonely, sad, sleeping by myself-"

"Getting coffee alone in the morning," she teases, “still not sure how to use your DVD player, spending Christmas alone, going-“

“Okay, okay, I get it. I didn’t have much of a life outside of my job before I met you.” I scoff, poking her sides and making her squirm around in my arms.

I keep poking her sides, bringing out her beautiful laugh. Amelia collapses backwards and tries to push my hands away, but I quickly flip over and pin her down, continuing to move my fingers across her rib cage. 

“Spencer, stop!” She giggles, tossing her head back as she kicks her legs like a child. “Stop!” I relent, pressing my hands against the bed on either side of her waist, watching her catch her breath. “You’re way too good at that.”

“It’s just one of my many skills.”

Amelia brings her hands up to my cheeks, the pads of her fingers brushing against the stubble that I have yet to shave off. Her face softens and the sparkle return to the blue of her eyes, and any anxiety I had floats out the window. “Thank you.”

“Thank you? For what?”

“For not hating me because of my past.”

“Well, in that case, I guess I should be thanking you too.”

Amelia smiles a real, genuine smile for only the second time since this conversation started. She beams up at me, sprawled out on the bed with her cheeks flushed and a laugh still stuck in her throat. I settle down on top of her, bringing one hand up to brush through her hair. She moves one hand from my face and grabs my wrist, bringing it to her lips so she can kiss my palm. “I love you so much.”

And even though we’ve only been speaking those words aloud for a few days, every time she tells me she loves me, my heart flutters in my chest and my cheeks turn pink. “I love you too.”

Amelia cranes her neck and presses her lips to mine, drawing me closer and closer with every passing second. “I really love you, Spence,” she pulls away with a teasing smile and lets her head fall onto the bed, “but I’m starting to suffocate.”

“Oh, sorry,” I quickly pull myself off of Amelia and bring her up with me but I drag her right back into my arms. Amelia breathes a sigh of relief and collapses against my chest, closing her eyes. And I just hold her to my chest like I’m protecting her from anything else that could come our way. I hold her tighter than I’ve ever held someone before. I miss her again and make sure that it contains all of the love that I’ve had bottled up in my body over the years. And, of course, she lets me fawn over her, not giving it a second thought. So I just keep holding her, tighter and tighter and tighter by the second.

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[jammatown919]

Through the Years

Content: Five's decision to leave Hinobi and its unexpected consequences, told through Miko.

Miko was seventeen when she received her first real injury on the job. It was nothing insane, just a mild concussion, but it seemed to leave an impression on Five. If Miko hadn't known him as well as she did, she wasn't sure she'd have noticed that he became subtly more careful and less confident when she returned to work. Still, it was a minor change, nothing that interrupted the daily flow of their lives. In the year that followed, the same process would repeat several times. One of them would be injured in some way or another, sometimes resulting in a short paid leave from work, and while Miko would bounce back with no worries, Five grew steadily more cautious.

Miko was nineteen when she recognized Five's unrest for the first time. He became far less enthusiastic about work, cared less for XP, began to talk back to Phil on occasion. It took months for him to openly express this to her, but she could tell he wasn't happy. One afternoon, when they were alone together in his living room, sharing a bowl of popcorn while a movie played in a background, he finally opened up to her.

"This job is going to get us killed," His voice was soft, but serious. Miko almost didn't hear him.

"No it's not," She replied immediately, sounding much more dismissive than she'd intended. "We've got each other. Neither of us is going to let the other die."

"Miko, look at us," Five sighed. "I mean really look at us. We couldn't stop each other from getting hurt before. One day, the hit one of us takes is going to be just a little too hard. We'll fall a little too far. Then one, or both, of us is going to be gone. Is this really what we want?"

Miko didn't know what to say. Their bodies, riddled with various scars, told stories of pain and fear, not the lighthearted adventures they'd both dreamed of. There was nothing Miko could say to counter Five that the scars couldn't disprove. Silence filled the room after that; neither of them spoke until the movie had ended, at which point the conversation was long over.

Miko was twenty when Five officially quit. They'd talked at length about it the night before; about how Five would have to be mind wiped, how he wouldn't remember some of their most important experiences together. But it was okay, he would still remember her, and that mattered more than anything. She was with him in the moments before the mind wipe, but Phil sent her out for the actual procedure. Begrudged, Miko waited outside the backroom for what felt like eternity, wondering how much of her best friend would be left when it was over.

"Thanks for everything, Phil." The door opened very suddenly, snapping Miko out of her worry for a moment. Five looked at her and smiled. "Guess I'll see you around."

"Okay," Miko didn't like the way he sounded. 'Guess I'll see you around' felt way too much like 'I'll probably never talk to you again'. "I'll call you later."

"Uh, alright?" The look he gave her sent a spike of anxiety through her body. It wasn't odd for her promise to call him. He shouldn't be looking at her like it was a weird thing to say. Trying to control her breathing, Miko ducked into the backroom to see Phil.

"How much does he remember?" She demanded immediately. Phil regarded her with moderate surprise.

"Miko, you know we have to erase everything related to the job." He seemed to be trying to put it gently, but Miko couldn't be talked down. If Five didn't remember what they were to each other, there would be hell to pay. "Most of his interactions with you were related in some way to being a Glitch Tech. I'm sorry, but he probably just remembers you as a coworker."

After that, there were tears, swears, and a half-hearted attempt to punch Phil in the face. The moment she could get a coherent sentence out, Miko quit on the spot. Phil sat her down, tried desperately to make her reconsider, but she couldn't stay. Five had been right on that lazy afternoon, this wasn't what she wanted. Phil tried three times to mind wipe her, as per company policy, but her immunity held strong. In the end, she was coaxed into signing a non-disclosure agreement and sent on her way with a hug and a couple of tissues. It was the last time she ever set foot in a Hinobi store.

Two weeks later, Miko invited Five to meet up at the arcade. It took an hour to convince him that she wasn't asking him out, but they eventually did get their meetup. Five seemed to be having a decent time, talking about his favorite games and reminiscing about hours spent here in childhood. For Miko, it was absolute torture. This wasn't her Five. He talked to her like they barely knew each other, told her about interests she'd known for years, asked her the names of family members he'd met several times. Nearly four years of being attached at the hip, friends through it all, were completely gone. She didn't try to contact him again.

Miko was twenty one when she moved out of her parents' house and left most of her Hinobi consoles and games behind. She hadn't touched them in ages; they were painful reminders of everything she'd lost. Only a few favorites went with her to the new apartment, while the rest were given to Lexi, who promised to treat them well. Lexi had been a great support since losing Five, as the only person who knew the truth, and therefore the only person Miko could talk to. Miko had never loved her sister more than she did on those late nights spent awake and crying.

She worked in food service now, which was about the farthest she could get from her old occupation while still making the time to attend college. An engineering degree had caught her fancy, and so she worked hard to build a future for herself. It seemed silly, how she'd once thought she'd spend the rest of her life as a Glitch Tech. The real world had finally caught up.

Miko was twenty four when she next saw Five. She was with Lexi, walking up to a food truck to get lunch on their way back from the gym. The man at the window almost passed for a stranger; it had been so long, and he looked so strange with his hairnet and his new tiny beard.

"Hey, I know you, don't I?" Five asked pleasantly. Tears immediately sprang into Miko's eyes.

"Y-you used to," They held each other's gazes for a long moment before Miko broke eye contact. "You order something, Lexi. I'm not hungry."

She hurried off toward a wooden bench to wait for her sister, wiping desperately at her eyes. How could she have forgotten about the food truck? A part of her had probably remembered, but assumed that Five wouldn't still be working here. But of course he was. It was just like him to stay and help his grandparents.

"You're Miko, right?" And it was just like him to try to comfort anyone who seemed upset, even a stranger. "We used to work together. Hinobi Games."

Miko looked up at him, surprised to see that he'd followed her from the truck. He seemed so innocently concerned. Like he just wanted to make her bad day better, regardless of the fact that he hardly knew her.

"Yeah," Miko sniffled. "Guess we kinda... lost touch after you quit."

"Well, we went to the arcade that one time." Five pointed out. "But you never called me after that. Did I do something to upset you that day? I can't really remember."

"No, you can't!" She snapped, warm tears sliding down her face. "You can't remember anything we did together! That's why we stopped talking."

"I-I'm sorry," Five seemed startled. Of course he was. He had no idea what she was going on about. "But we never really did anything special together. You always had the same shifts as me, but we never actually hung out other than that one time at the arcade."

"I'm going home." Miko stood abruptly and pushed past him. She couldn't stand to hear him talk like that. At some point, the walk back to her apartment turned into a jog, and then a sprint, until she was slamming the door behind her, breathing heavily.

It took a moment of calm for Miko to realize that she'd abandoned Lexi at the food truck, but there was no going back now. Instead, she shot Lexi a text to apologize and set her phone down on the counter. Lexi would be fine, she knew the way home perfectly well. With sister bonding day officially ruined, Miko now had all the time in the world to sulk on her couch, which she did readily.

Two, maybe three hour laters, a soft knock sounded on Miko's door. At first, she ignored it. Whoever it was, they didn't need to see her red-faced and crying. It was probably unwanted company anyway, she hadn't ordered any packages, nor was she expecting anyone. It crossed her mind for a moment that the person knocking could be Lexi, but Lexi had a key and she wasn't afraid to use it. When the knocking persisted, Miko groaned and stood up, crossing her living room to open the door rather aggressively.

"Uh, hey," Five stood awkwardly in the hallway, one hand on the back of his head. "So, your sister gave me your address and told me I really needed to come find you. She said we used to be... Glitch Techs together? Her explanation was really confusing."

"Get in here," Miko sighed and stepped aside so he could enter. Hesitantly, Five came inside and shut the door behind him, looking nervous. "Sit down, we have a lot to talk about."

They sat down together on her couch while Miko tried her best to explain everything, though more than once she burst into tears and had to stop for a few minutes. Five listened quietly, patting her shoulder when she seemed like she needed comfort, nodding occasionally. He wasn't passing it off as ridiculous, which was a decent start.

"Some of that sounded kind of familiar," He said when she was done. That was better than Miko had hopped for. There might be a chance of jogging his memory.

"Wait, pull out your phone!" She said suddenly. "You can read through our old texts!"

"I kind of... deleted your number?" Five admitted shamefully. "I'm sorry, we just hadn't talked in so long, I figured there was no point."

"Fine, you can look at mine." Miko got up to retrieve her phone from the counter and handed it to him. She was quiet while he scrolled through their conversations from four years ago, tapping her foot impatiently.

"I think I remember some of this." Five said as he scrolled. "Oh, I remember Ally! She was the best! Wait, if you're not a Glitch Tech anymore, did you have to give her up?"

"Yeah... I still really miss her." Miko sighed and looked away, on the verge of tears again.

"I'm so sorry. You quit because of me."

"No, I quit because of what they did to you!" Miko snapped. "I couldn't stay after that."

"Do you think any of the others are still Glitch Techs?" Five asked.

"You... remember the others?"

"A little bit." Five thought for a moment. "I remember Mitch was the worst. And I thought Zhara and Haneesh were so cool. Oh, and Bergy! Man, I miss Bergy."

"I'm sure Mitch is still a Glitch Tech, that job is definitely his peak." Miko chuckled. "I don't really know about the others. Ran into Zhara and Haneesh once while they were on a mission, but that was two years ago."

"Wow," Five sighed. "I can't believe we had this whole experience together for four years straight, and I had no idea."

"Hey, it's not your fault. You didn't know how much they were erasing." Miko laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "If you want to remember more, my door's always open."

They continued to see each other after that. Meeting for lunch, hanging out in Miko's apartment, going for walks, always reminiscing and trying to catch one another up on their current lives. It was comfortable; they'd fallen back into their old friendship quite nicely. Miko once again felt like she could tell him anything. It was a bit depressing to know that there were still huge gaps in his memory, specific moments and missions he might never recall, but she had him back. That was what mattered the most.

Miko was twenty five when she kissed Five for the first time. It was a spontaneous thing, done on an impulse as she delivered excellent news. She'd finally gotten that engineering position she'd been after for so long. Excitement took hold and she just pressed her lips to his cheek. He didn't mind at all. In fact, he asked if they could do it again, on the lips this time. Miko was more than happy to oblige. It was unclear whether he was interested in an actual relationship, and she didn't ask, but their friendship after that did take on a flirty tone.

Miko was twenty seven when Five moved into her apartment. Officially dating for a year and a half, they both wanted to be around each other as much as possible. With the recent passing of Five's grandmother, his grandfather had moved into a senior home, leaving Five to man the food truck. He was content with this, though he couldn't stand the thought of living in his house alone. Miko had readily opened her home to him.

Their busy schedules kept them both away from home a bit more than they would've liked, but that made the time that they did spend together all the more precious. They spent a decent amount of time playing the games Five had brought with him when he'd moved in, but not nearly as much as they had as teenagers. It was still fun, still something to be passionate about, but their lives no longer revolved around it. Besides, after years of not touching her games, Miko found it hard to get back into the pattern of playing every day. It became a weekend thing.

They'd both settled excellently into their new life together. Everything was open, honest, and comfortable. Miko was still incredibly bitter about the four years they'd lost, and while Five didn't express it nearly as much, he was too. But against all odds, they were still here, still together, eleven years after that fateful day on which they'd met.

[asgardianthot]

A funeral chuckle (Sambucky AU) – Part 3

one  /  two  /  three

Summary: After the loss of a family member, Sam returns to his hometown, where an old crush awaits.

A/N: Last part! Kinda regretting making this a short fic now, is it too late to change that? Yes. It’s kind of a long chapter so make some time, make some hot coco :) Thank you so much for reading xx

Words: 4623

Warnings: grief, angst, closeted gay characters

"What is it?"

Steve didn’t drift his view from the road ahead to respond to his friend’s question. They had spent the majority of the trip so far in utter silence, ever since Steve picked Sam up from the airport, which led both of them to believe there was an elephant in the room; weirdly so, they weren’t too sure about what the elephant represented. Most of the chat had happened during the time Steve helped Sam put his luggage in the trunk, and it had consisted of an overwhelmingly casual conversation.

"What?" Steve directed the reply to Sam, who sat on the co-driver’s seat, but focused on driving.

"Whatever you're thinking about.” Sam insisted, not buying Steve’s innocent attitude, “Spit it out."

The blonde shrugged, "I'm not thinking anything."

"Bull."

"Seriously, my mind is blank."

There was a hint of amusement slowly escaping Steve’s tone, and it only exasperated Sam even further.

"Minds are never blank." Sam followed his lead.

"I thought that was the whole point of meditating."

"You meditate?" he raised his eyebrows with skepticism.

"Nah.” Steve finally dropped the act with a smile, “Buck tried to get me to do yoga once, but it wasn't my thing."

There it was. The elephant in the room was Bucky. Steve must have figured it out, or maybe taken a guess, putting two and two together. Maybe Bucky had been the one to speak out about the whole situation, but Sam doubted it. All he knew was Steve wasn’t stupid, so he knew the pair had fought or had gotten themselves into an impasse. The silence that the mere mention of Bucky’s name brought upon the men sitting in that moving car was more than enough proof.

"At least say something, I'm not spending half an hour in silence.” Sam brushed it off, letting the excess of air in his tense lungs seep through his nose, “Tell me anything. How's work?"

"We spoke last week, Sam, you know all about work.” Steve was practically begging Sam to be honest as he tapped the wheel with his thumb, impatiently; unfortunately, he knew better than push Sam when he clearly didn’t want to break character, “I'm just glad you're back in town, 's all. Your mom really needs you tomorrow."

Sam looked down and nodded, "Yeah, I know."

In the time Darlene had spent as a widow, she had contacted his son many times, which only added to Sam’s guilt for leaving her so violently soon after Paul’s death. They both knew each other well enough to understand Sam’s reasons, though, and Darlene had never been a dependent woman. That didn’t mean, however, that she didn’t need her son. She just didn’t like admitting it so he wouldn’t worry, but that ship had sailed long ago. This time around, Sam’s bag was bigger. He was staying as long as he needed to.

"And I know last time was tough- I'm not asking.” Steve made sure to let Sam know he wasn’t prying, after all, “But maybe it'll be better this time around."

The occasion sort of sounded like a second funeral. And somehow, it kind of was. A month had passed, and Sam had left things like they were before. Both his mother and Bucky, abandoned. He couldn’t exactly expect the overall experience to be any better.

"How much can change in a month?"

Steve gave him a flash look, checking his expression.

"Let's hope something has." He tried to transmit his friend some optimism.

Sam checked his phone again, taking another look at the picture his mom had sent him. It was of a panel outside the church, and it read ‘Service in memory of Minister Paul Wilson, Sunday 10am’ along with a picture of the deceased. Below the information, a message in cursive: ‘One month without his wise words.’ Sam locked his phone with a sigh.

"So..." He put the device away, gathering a bit of courage, "How's, uh... how's Barnes?"

Steve glanced at him, again, this time with a much tentative expression, for he had some hope that maybe he’d get the truth out of Sam.

"He's fine. Why?"

Sam simply looked out the window before responding, "I may or may not have been a jerk last time."

Steve nodded, hiding his joy over such a small confession.

"You guys argued or...?"

"No, nothing like that. It's- it's nothing, really."

Of course, Sam took it all back, along with Steve’s hope to be in on the gossip, and so the latter gave up on his tact. He had enough of pretending not to know, and therefore, allowed his amusement ooze out of him. He shook his head as a soft chuckle made Sam frown.

"I'm sorry." He said, although he wasn’t really sorry.

"What's so funny?" Sam became defensive.

"You two are terrible liars, I don't know how you managed to stay in the closet for so long."

The last bit hit Wilson like a frying pan in the face, and all he could do was blink fast, trying to think of whatever other thing Steve could have meant by it.

"What are you talking about?" he pledged innocence to the matter.

"Come on, I know you two had something last month.” Rogers dropped the bomb with no caution whatsoever, “Was kind of expecting it, to be honest, I just can't believe you're hiding it from me again."

Sam was perplex. He opened his mouth, only to close it back, and when the offense surpassed the shock, he raised his voice at his best friend.

"You knew?"

"That you hooked up in high school?” Steve raised his eyebrows, as if he couldn’t even believe Sam never suspected it; he couldn’t possibly think he was so naïve, “Of course I knew!"

"Are you kidding me? We went the extra mile to keep you out of it for a full year, Rogers."

That last sentence brought back the laughter to Steve’s body, "I know, talk about a waste of time and effort." He chuckled.

"Jesus. We thought you'd freak out, and... I don’t know, we were kids! It seemed like something we needed to keep from you.” Sam let his head fall and caught his forehead in his hand, defeated, “Why didn't you say anything?"

Eventually, Steve quit the mocking and gave Sam some slack.

"I didn't wanna out you guys or anything.” He confessed, tilting his head, “To be honest, I totally forgot for a few years."

Sam nodded, "I think we did too."

Steve offered a grin Sam missed because he felt more comfortable looking anywhere but towards Steve. He knew Steve was being the most empathic and considerate friend anyone could ever ask for, and it only added to his already asphyxiating guilt.

"So, you two clicked again and you bolted?" Steve took his not-so-lucky guess, and got a shameful nod out of Sam, "Now he's mad and, let me guess, he won't return your calls."

Rogers knew Bucky to be a master when it came to avoiding conflicts; he didn’t know Sam to be one, though. Which is why the fact that Sam had disappeared from town without notice had led him to jump into conclusions, because he had to have a strong enough reason. The death of his father, plus his high school crush falling back into his arms, the latter representing the overwhelming reminder that Sam never came out to the right people? Those were more than perfect reasons to bolt.

"Yeah. I... he's too good.” Sam began the self-loathing parade Steve didn’t expect to be hearing from this friend, “He shouldn't waste his time with me."

"That's definitely not how he feels about himself.” He informed Sam, thinking how the ‘unworthy speech’ sounded more like something Bucky would say; Wilson looked at him, eager for answers, “You like him?"

"Yeah.” Sam let out a painful puff of air, “Yeah, but-"

"Then show him.” Steve raised his tone into a motivational one, “Go the extra mile to let him know you're sorry, and that you care about him."

Sam agreed, but remained silent. Steve was right, and he didn’t want to give the wise man all the credit. In fact, he gave Rogers an odd look.

"You're too excited for this."

"I am." Steve admitted shamefully, but planting a big smile on his face, "Feels like high school again."

For the first time, Sam interpreted that sentence in the best possible way.

-

Late at night, Bucky was boringly scrolling through social media, when he received a text from Sam. Another one. This time, however, his presence felt more imminent. He figured Sam wasn’t in DC anymore, as it was the night before the service, and when he opened the text, he confirmed it.

I'm back in town, got here a few hours ago. Maybe we could meet up? I really wanna talk to you in person.

As he ignored the message and left the phone on the coffee table, making a rather loud sound for such a delicate device, Wanda was coming through the door with two paper bags.

"I got Chinese!" she announced.

"Course you did." Bucky sat back with a sigh.

Wanda dropped the packed food on the counter and approached Bucky with a challenging look.

"If that's an insult to my culinary taste, I'm not offended. But you should know you offend the Chinese community." She accused the man.

"Yeah, ‘cause that was cooked by a Chinese person." Barnes tilted his head, sarcasm thick on his voice.

"You don't know that!" she defended herself as she plopped down next to him on the couch.

She noticed the phone and noticed how unnatural the set-up seemed, which could only mean Bucky was avoiding something on the device; it wasn’t too difficult to guess, for he had been ghosting the same person for an entire month.

“Are we still ignoring him?” she asked, including herself in the decision.

Bucky pursed his lips and nodded, fixating his sight on a random spot, “He’s back in town.”

Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, pensive, before turning to his roommate.

“I have a question… Are you sure you don’t wanna give him a second chance? Or is it just your hurt pride making decisions?”

“Both.” He spat without thinking, and then decided to dignify the woman with a proper answer, “I don’t know. I just… I don’t wanna listen if all he has to say is that he doesn’t, you know…”

“In my experience, guys don’t blow up your phone when they just want to explain their lack of interest. Maybe he made a mistake, dude, maybe he wants to win you back.”

“Or maybe, he needs to tell me how much he cares before explaining why he can’t be with me.” Barnes said what he had been thinking all throughout the past weeks, “That’s Sam. I’m pretty sure he wants to make sure not to hurt my feelings and that sort of crap.”

Wanda wanted to comment on his pessimism, but she figured it was simply coming from a place of ‘I care about him too much to see him reject me’. And if that wasn’t the oddest thing she’d seen in Bucky, nothing would be.

“God, it’s weird when you’re in love.” She scrunched her nose.

“I’m not in love.” Bucky rolled his eyes before standing up from the interrogation couch.

“Where you ever?” she was quick to ask, which made Bucky stop in his tracks, “When you were kids?”

He reflected on it, but shook his head, “Nah, I don’t think so. We had fun, though.”

That answer alone helped Wanda paint the picture of the two boys, running around finding an isolated space where to hookup, before returning to their friends like nothing had happened. She imagined them laughing, and being nice to each other; Bucky, who wasn’t necessarily the nicest person alive.

“You were good friends.” She smiled, almost proud of her roommate for some reason.

“Yeah, we were.” He admitted, a smile of his own sneaking in through his features; suddenly, the realization that he owed Sam something because of all those years of friendship hit him like a truck, “Fuck, I hate you.” He groaned, heading to his room.

“What did I do?” Wanda jumped to her defense.

“Now I have to go to the service.”

-

Inside the church, Bucky nervously fixed his tie while he watched Sam hold hands with his mother. The woman kissed her son’s cheek before she sat down in the front row, Sam turning to check if there were anything or anyone else he needed to attend to. He had been doing the social effort he despised all morning, as if he was trying to make up for being a lousy griever during the funeral. Truth was, Sam figured he could do those extra little sacrifices if it meant his mama would remain peaceful.

When his eyes found Bucky, Samuel’s body came to a halt. Bucky, having stood in that position preparing for that moment for the past minutes, managed to greet him with a simple nod, barely. As soon as Sam moved in his direction, he began regretting even showing up. But as much as he wished to be able to run away, he forced his muscles to remain still.

"Hey.” Sam offered him a mild smile of politeness when he stood in front of Bucky, “Wanna talk?"

The appellee bit the inside of his cheek, finding himself incapable of lying to Sam.

"Not really." He admitted.

The dryness of the reply was not what Sam had been expecting. Those two words took him by surprise, but he understood where they came from, so he attempted to convince him nevertheless. He showed him an awkward smile, one that yelled embarrassment.

"That's, uh... fair. That's fair.” He indulged Bucky, “I just- I've been trying to reach you for a month, Buck. Been texting, calling-"

"I know.” Barnes didn’t need to hear the entire list of ways he had ghosted Sam, “I got them."

"I'm not asking for you to be nice or anything, I just want you to talk to me.” Sam’s tone lowered to a much more serious and confident one, “Please."

Noticing the sudden switch of approach, Bucky felt he at least owed him a chance to speak his truth. Even if all Sam had to say were excuses. So he gestured to the exit with a tilt of his head, implying for Sam to follow him. As soon as they both stood on the side of the stairs, and away from everyone else, Bucky slid his hands inside his pocket, preparing for the speech he feared he would dread.

"You can talk." He gave Sam the room to express whatever he had to express, this time with a smaller voice.

It broke a little piece inside Sam’s chest to see Bucky like that. Not just upset, but sad. He almost didn’t want to do this, because Bucky looked like he was preparing to have a bomb dropped on him. Yet he desperately needed to apologize and he desperately needed to try one more time, therefore he stood up straight, head up high, and let it all out.

"I messed up.” The words were expulsed with heaviness, making Bucky glance up at him, “Big time. I really, really like you, and...” He shrugged, failing to keep the continuous confidence, while Bucky fought back a frown that threatened to take over his features, “I don't know, it felt like we were on the same page, right?"

"But we weren't. That's why you left.” Bucky interrupted, “Still, you could've been less of a dick about it.”

"I agree."

"Which part?"

"Last part.” Sam jumped to make that point come across clearly; he definitely cared for Bucky just as much as Bucky cared for him, if not more, “Definitely last part, I- I was a dick. But I didn't mean to, and it didn't mean what you think it meant."

Finally convinced, Bucky didn’t use the gap of silence Sam offered him. He didn’t say a word, meaning he was willing to listen, which gave both of them a spark of hope. Sam seized the opportunity to spill everything out before they had to go back inside.

"You were the best thing that could've happened when I came back. You still are, Bucky. And this is probably the worst time to be doing this, but can we please meet up after the memorial? We can talk things through, you can... curse me out if you wanna. I just need the proper time to apologize. Because I really am incredibly sorry."

-

As the service approached its start and everyone found their seats, Darlene stopped Steve and his mother Sarah from sitting behind her.

“Oh, darling, come sit here with us.” She told the Rogers, speaking directly to her friend Sarah.

“Are you sure?” the woman asked.

“Yes, yes.” Darlene gestured quickly, then addressed the man that seemed to spare, “James, you too. Sammy should have his friends with him.”

As much as Bucky eyes Sam in search for an exit, for Sam to find an excuse, none of them seemed to have much of a choice. The three guests joined the grieving family on the front row, Sam remaining on the last end, sticking with his mother.

Not minutes after the priest started speaking, Darlene was a crying mess. Sam remembered what his old-fashioned father said about handkerchiefs and regretted not carrying one for his mother, but she had prepared for this day by bringing a box of tissues in her oversized purse, so Sam merely squeezed her hand for support. The problem was, when the priest announced they would be reading Paul’s favorite poems, and the first one just so happened to be about the relationship between a father and a son. Two verses later, Sam felt it coming. Something snapped inside of him, perhaps the fact that everyone in that church was thinking of Sam and Paul’s bond, or maybe all the crying he hadn’t done in a month hit him like a wave, but the result was simple; Sam couldn’t fight the sentiment.

The tears claimed him and he let it happen, wet face and snotty nose and all. He stopped listening to the poem and instead remembered how Paul always told him it was okay to cry, which brought Sam the much needed peace he required in that moment, because he figures the entire church was quietly pitying him. He could feel a hundred eyes burning the back of his head as he shut his eyes and a grimace invaded his features.

All of a sudden, the funniest thought crossed his mind and a smirk overtook him. Paul always told him it was okay to cry. Soon enough, that smirk became a concealed chuckle, which quickly escalated into a full-on laugh. Sam thought he might sound insane to the rest of the attendants, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the irony of it all. Eventually, Darlene inclined to check up on her seemingly crazy son.

"Sorry, it’s just… Dad always said I should express my feelings more.” Sam whispered, trying to keep the laugh in but failing, “He'd do anything to get me to open up and... show emotion.” The last few words caused a wave of chuckles to erupt on his chest, getting even more attention from everyone else, “If you told him I would do it in his church for his memorial, in front of his entire congregation...”

When Sam looked up, he saw his mother cracking up along with him, tears of joy mixing with the former tears of sadness, and with a sense of calm, Sam shook his head amusingly.

"He'd curse me out.”

Darlene sniffed before speaking with regained composure, “Paul never cursed in front of you.”

That made Sam lose it. He didn’t even know if he was snorting or laughing by now.

“I know, he said- he said he was saving it for a special time.”

As the sentence gained a similar reaction from Steve, Sarah and Bucky, mother and son noticed the entire first row could hear them perfectly. Sam’s eyes naturally travelled to find Bucky, who flaunted a big smile. Bucky always knew it would be Sam to hold the proud title of the perpetrator of a rare funeral chuckle. He never lost hope.

-

Sam was opening his car door, out in the parking lot behind the church, when Bucky came out of nowhere. Sam’s muscles tensed as he knew for a fact he was only there to talk, while Bucky looked around to make sure they didn’t have any public. He didn’t give Sam any time to prepare before he started rambling.

"I shouldn't have ignored you.” He spat out, more sure of himself than Sam had seen him in a while, “I should've listened, and I'm sorry.”

A sigh left Sam’s chest. He didn’t think it was Bucky who should be apologizing, but that only meant the latter had already forgiven him. Still, he felt the guilty need to step in while he leaned back on the carhood.

“Bucky, I-“

“I don’t care.” Barnes stepped closer, “As long as you forgive me too, I’m good.”

The instant Bucky finished his micro speech, he sprinted to grab Sam’s face and press his lips against him. It pushed Sam’s body slightly so that they were both pressing against the car, and although Sam was fairly shocked, he gave into the kiss completely, at the last seconds. When Bucky stepped back, waiting to see Sam’s reaction, tentatively, he was met with flushed cheeks and embarrassment.

Sam looked around, which made Bucky realize that he was expecting people, and therefore, right now they did have a public. Darlene, Steve and his mother were standing there with triumphant grins and smirks. Bucky ran a hand through his hair, quickly losing his previous confidence.

"Shit." He let out with a nervous laugh.

Sam laughed back, “It’s okay, they’re nosy people, you’re giving them a show.” He directed the insult to the three spectators.

“Do you guys need a minute?” Steve stepped in.

Sam nodded. “Yes, a minute would be nice.”

-

Sam was finishing writing in his journal, when the doorbell rang.

Bucky had suggested the idea of a journal, for Sam to write down his feelings of grief, and it definitely was helping with the young man’s epiphanies. Today’s page began with a mention of how easy it had been to adapt to his hometown the past few weeks. Sam wrote about his mother, and how she didn’t let her grief take her down, but actually played the widow part like a champ. He also wrote about Bucky, and how patient he was with Sam’s feelings, and how he himself was ready to hold Bucky’s hand in public. The page ended in a meaningful paragraph:

I haven’t felt like I deserved to mourn him, because I kept focusing about everything I didn’t get to do with him. I wish I’d had the courage, because Paul Wilson always taught me to be brave, and I just feel like I let him down. But then mama, the person who knew him better than he knew himself, reminded me of something: he was the single most empathic person in the world, and he never judged a person who came to him. He would have welcomed me with any problem or confession, and that’s what I want to remember. His memory, to me, is one of a kind man who was always there for me, even if I didn’t seek his help.

“Sammy, the Barnes boy’s here for you!” Darlene called up.

Sam walked down the stairs and rolled his eyes when he was sure his mother could see him.

“We’re not fifteen, mama.” He mocked her choice of words.

Bucky, on his part, was standing on the doorstep with a frown, “Was I supposed to bring flowers?”

“Only if you wanna stay for dinner.” Sam warned him while putting on a coat.

“I do want to stay for dinner.” Bucky said just to mess with Sam, but gave Darlene a look that meant he was serious, “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Anytime, love.” She gave him a graceful nod.

“We’re leaving.” Sam groaned before shutting the door behind him.

Bucky gave him a peck on his temple before they started walking down the street. It would be a short walk to the coffee shop, but it gave Sam enough time to hold Bucky’s hand. With some real courage and gathered enthusiasm, Sam found Bucky’s gloved hand. He sloppily reached for his fingers, and received some help from Bucky, who looked down with a smile when their hands were completely intertwined.

They fell into comfortable silence, until Sam remembered a topic of conversation they had left behind.

“What did Wanda say about the charity work?” he asked like he’d forgotten something important, “Is she in?”

Bucky’s roommate had agreed to help the Wilsons with some church work Sam had taken over, including donation events and organization. The young woman had already made a bunch of jokes about not being able to step foot in a Christian church.

“Yeah, she said she could betray her Jewish ancestors for a few days.” Bucky replied, raising his eyebrows at the memory of her dramatization, “Said if I’d done it, so could she.”

“Yeah, but you went there to score a real handsome guy.” Sam joked.

Bucky smiled and stopped in order to find Sam’s face and cup it, “And what could be more godly than that?”

The couple joined in a kiss, there in the middle of the street, and although it wasn’t a very populated one, it proved their willingness to step into the spotlight. They didn’t want to be a secret anymore. When they broke the kiss, Sam gave Bucky’s hand a little squeeze, and they continued walking.

“I’m happy, Bucky.” Sam confessed out of the blue.

It brought a confused smile to Bucky’s face, “Well, I’m glad.” He said, unsure.

“No, I mean I’m happy here. I’m not going back to DC.” He announced with such tranquility, it made Bucky’s gut do a full twist, “That job you mentioned downtown? I’m taking it.”

Bucky’s heart warmed to the idea, because he would have followed Sam to DC if he had asked him, but instead, Sam decided to stay, and there was something very beautiful about that choice.

“You’re gonna have to stay with your mom.” Bucky reminded him of the downside, like he wasn’t as thrilled as anyone could ever be.

“Yeah, for a while.” Sam shrugged, “She’s partly the reason I want to stay, you know.”

Bucky nodded, keeping a big happy grin concealed.

“What’s the other reason?”

“Just this guy.” He followed along.

“Really, what’s he like?”

“Kinda cute. He betrayed his ancestors for me a bunch of times.”

“Shut up.” Bucky rolled his eyes as he reached for Sam’s sweater and pulled him in for a kiss.

For a long time, Sam had avoided his hometown. He had avoided the people from his childhood, he had avoided his relationship with his parents, and so much more that now seemed indispensable. Not only had he found Bucky, but he felt like he was finally where he belonged. He felt like Bucky was the only person who knew him entirely growing up, and somehow, they both needed each other to be reminded of themselves.

Holding Bucky’s hand, walking down his childhood street where they both would sneak through at night during their teenage years, he felt home. And he planned on keeping that feeling for a long, long time.

[lgbtyrus]

Two Exes on Mars

A Tyrus fic where they’re aged up + broken up :) It will have a ‘happily ever after’, I promise. Note: IDK if you know your Andi Mack lore, but just in case, Shadyside is in a fictional US state called Midwest.

Part 1/? (I’m thinking 3 or 4)

Words: 2,668

He kissed him goodbye. It wasn’t even rainy or cloudy outside, much less foggy. It was super bright and sunny, and Cyrus could hear every single bird in Shadyside chirping as his now ex-boyfriend walked out the front door of his house. He waited until TJ was out of his driveway to shut the door and break out in tears, pressing his forehead and fist against his door.

Why? he wondered. Why? Why? Why?

But he knew why. He knew why TJ had let him go in the worst breakup in the world. He had tried to a week ago which led to Cyrus breaking down in front of him and ended up with them back together. But the tension between them was so obviously, and it lead to TJ’s horrible mood swings and random outbursts he never apologized for. It made Cyrus feel like crap. Then in the middle of the week, TJ tried breaking up with him over text. Cyrus ignored it, and TJ went over to his house the next day like nothing had happened. Not even three days later, TJ came over to break up him a third time. For good.

That just happened two minutes ago, and Cyrus silently let him leave this time. He shouldn’t have ever let him see him cry.

“You have to go to California, Cyrus,” TJ had told him, his eyes red and his hands clenching into tight fists. All Cyrus could do was stare at the floor. It’s not everyday you get a chance to go to USC, but it also meant leaving everyone you loved behind- including TJ. Him and TJ had been together since the 8th grade, and he had included TJ in all of his future plans. For him, being in a long distance relationship was a possibility, and he never thought TJ would be against it.

“I want to go to MSU,” Cyrus shook his head, refusing to look at him. TJ was going to MSU on a basketball scholarship, and yeah, they had a theatre and screenwriting, but it wasn’t USC. It was one of the hardest choices Cyrus had to make.

“You’re clearly lying, Cyrus,” TJ let out a frustrated sigh, “I know when you’re lying.” It’s true, he did. His hands always instinctively went inside a pocket, and Cyrus has never been able to stop it. “Cyrus. I know I’m the main reason why you want to stay in Midwest, but I want you to go to USC. It’s what you want.”

“Does that mean we have to break up, though?” Cyrus asked him sadly, his voice quiet. TJ ran his fingers through his blonde hair and let out a deep breath.

“We’d be doing long distance for four years, Cyrus. I don’t want to hold you back from being at your prime if you’re moping around missing me the entire time.”

“Are you just saying this because you’re the one that’s not going to be fine?” There wasn’t even a pause.

“Yes, Cyrus!” TJ said loudly, startling Cyrus. “I can’t spend four years of my life being sad because I miss you all the time, but I also can’t live with the guilt I’m going to feel if you don’t go to USC. This entire situation is driving me insane, and I really think breaking up is the best way to go.”

“You honestly think that?” Cyrus frowned, looking right up at him. He didn’t want to break down like he did the first time. “You’re just giving up? Not even giving long distance a try. After five years, TJ?”

TJ shamefully looked away before saying, “I love you, Cyrus. But I think it’d hurt less to let you go.”

“How?” Cyrus’ voice started to tremble as he spoke in complete disbelief, “How can you even say you love me right now?” TJ didn’t say anything. He just slowly walking up to Cyrus, each step taking its own time before cupping his face in his hands and kissing him softly.

TJ pulled away, whispering, “Bye, Cyrus.”

Cyrus was now sitting on his bedroom floor, playing music louder than his occasional sob. Andi and Buffy were on their way, but until then, it was him, and a lone polaroid picture he had of him and TJ on their first Valentine’s Day together right in front of him. Him and TJ were sitting on one side of the booth at The Spoon while Marty and Buffy sat on the other side. TJ had his arms around him and was smiling in to his cheek, leaving a very fluttered Cyrus to be captured forever.

“Cyrus!” someone yelled out from downstairs. “We’re here.”

“Upstairs!” Cyrus yelled out, his voice slightly cracking. He hadn’t spoken since TJ left, and his throat hurt. He was glad he left the door unlocked for them because he didn’t have the energy to move.

Andi peaked her head through his bedroom door, frowning when she saw him, “Hi, Cyrus.”

“Hey,” Cyrus waved, “come in.” He hadn’t seen Andi in about three weeks was she was getting busy with her senior art project for SAVA. He loved her for being here during a busy time. Buffy trailed in behind Andi with two loaded grocery bags.

“We brought ice cream and pie,” Buffy held the bags up. “We stopped by your kitchen to get utensils.”

“Thank you because I was not going to move,” Cyrus said. Andi and Buffy sat down on each side of him and rested their heads on his shoulder.

“You can cry if you want,” Andi told him.

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed, “we bought three tissue boxes.”

“I’ve been crying for like an hour, and I’m just tired of it at this point. But this is also probably just the start,” Cyrus mumbled. “How am I supposed to accept that someone I talked to everyday for five years is leaving my life?”

“I know it hurts, Cyrus,” Buffy whispered. “But you’re stronger than you think. You’re going to get through this. Trust me. I’m always right.”

“I know you are,” Cyrus smiled slightly. “You know what sucks the most though?”

“What?” they asked in unison.

“We already have matching tuxedos from prom.” -

Cyrus and TJ showed up with new tuxedos to prom. Andi herself made Cyrus a brand new one. The according to different sources, both Cyrus and TJ had both begged Gus to cancel their Prom Court nomination. Gus thought it was funny until Buffy stepped in, and he got scared.

Cyrus and TJ didn’t sit together at lunch anymore or do homework together or visit the swing sets every Tuesday after TJ got out of tutoring. Cyrus submitted his paperwork to attend USC in the fall and according to Amber who was at Shadyside’s community college, TJ was going to go to MSU to play for their basketball team. Buffy and Marty would be seeing him at MSU seeing they got track scholarships.

Cyrus cried every night for the rest of the school year after finishing his homework because he worked to hard to have his GPA suffer over a boy who clearly didn’t care if he fell apart. He sometimes sat in the bathtub and let music fill his whole bathroom and no matter what, every single song would remind him of TJ. Of course, that was his fault for playing the playlists TJ had made him on Spotify. He wondered if he could see that he was listening to them. He hoped he did.

Cyrus didn’t have any communication with TJ since the last texts he sent him. It was a 2AM on a Saturday night, about three weeks since the breakup. He felt horrible and didn’t know how to stop crying. Even though Buffy had told him to call him whenever, he couldn’t keep dumping everything on her.

Cyrus: hey tj I hope im not waking u up idk if you still have your phone set so that u only get text alerts from me but I just wanted to say that I miss you.

Cyrus: I miss you so much tj idk what to do without you. Everything hurts all the time and I just want to talk to you and hear you voice even if we cant date anymore please talk to me. Please be my friend again tj we were best friends for 5 years we work so good together

Cyrus: I love you. I think that ill always be in love with you.

TJ: Goodnight Underdog.

Cyrus didn’t remember what time he went to sleep, but he felt like he cried for hours after that. The pain in his chest beat him up completely until he was too weak to flip his pillow to the dry side.

At their graduation, Cyrus gave a speech and then walked off stage to everyone in the auditorium clapping. It felt surreal. When he looked up smiling, out of all of the people he saw in the sea of graduates, he saw TJ clapping. He had his lip curled up in one corner which showed that he was on the verge of tears. That was the only time that night Cyrus wanted to cry.

-

A month into USC and without a doubt, Cyrus was homesick and probably depressed. He had made a great group of friends that were similar to him and super positive. He appreciated them, but 8 out of 10 times, they could never convince him to leave his room. He just stayed in and did homework and work on his script. It was about a man who gets his heart shattered and decided to move to Mars as part of a science experiment and when he’s already in space, he realize that his ex is one of the 100 people on board. Things quickly escalate. His friends loved the scripts and always asked to read updates, but he still sent snippets to Bex because he missed her.

It had been months since the breakup with TJ that happened late April. He should be over it now, he thought a lot of the time. But it still hurt. TJ really shot a hole in his heart and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn’t cry everyday like he used to. But every other few weeks, he snuck into the bathroom to cry so his roommate wouldn’t see. It was embarrassing to admit.

Cyrus kept things in a rotation. Script, class, eat, homework, sometimes friends, and sleep. It was hard to stay happy and to enjoy himself. It was hard to feel like he was living through something when he’s been dead inside for months. With Halloween coming up, he felt even worse. He’s never not had anyone to match costumes with. For five years, him and TJ did a couple’s costume and before that, him, Buffy, and Andi always had something up their sleeves. He missed all of them.

Then one day, his roommate let one of his friends into their dorm room. His roommate was part of his friend group, so there was that. Cyrus was working on his infamous script and didn’t even get a text that he was coming. Usually, he said no, though. “Hey, Rich,” Cyrus said as he walked in.

“Hey, Cy,” he said. “I was in the building and wanted to drop by.”

“Why’d you text Karson and not me?” Cyrus asked.  

“You always say no.”

“True. Anyways, what’s up?”

“We need one more person for our Halloween costume. It’s Full House. We need an Uncle Jesse. You in?”

“Yeah,” Cyrus grinned, “of course.”

-

“Damn,” his friend Bogie said. “That TJ foo fucked you up bad, huh?” All eight of them were sitting around a bonfire before Thanksgiving break. It had been a long night of confessions and telling each other things not a lot of other people knew. Somehow in the moment, Cyrus spent thirty minutes telling them the becoming and downfall of him and TJ. Rich had convinced him to go to therapy on campus early November, and Cyrus wished he had gone sooner. It was getting so much easier to be around his friends and have open conversations.

“Yeah,” Cyrus admitted. “I cried everyday for months. I still cry sometimes.”

“Is that why you spend forever in the bathroom?” Karson asked him. Cyrus nodded.

“Damn, Cy,” Roxana mumbled, “no wonder you were so distant at the beginning of the school year. I thought you were just stuck up, but I guess I was wrong. I’m glad you trust us now, though.”

“Me, too,” Cyrus said.

“So, this TJ,” Bogie asked, “what’s he up to?”

“Besides knowing that he plays basketball for Midwest State U, I have no idea. I haven’t talked to him since I last texted him after the breakup. I’m still good friends with his sister, but she never says anything.”

“Dang, so he’s a baller?” Bogie asked.

“Probably just getting fucked up at parties,” Mikhenna suggested. Cyrus didn’t respond. He just shrugged.

“Do you still love him?” Roxana asked him.

“I don’t think so,” Cyrus shook his head. “I’d be stupid to. But thanks for listening, guys. I feel a lot better. I feel like I belong and that I can finally move on.”

-

Cyrus didn’t see the point of flying all the way back home for a week long break, so he decided to stay behind in California and take a train to his aunt and uncle’s place. They had a daughter that thirteen and always had juicy middle school drama.

When he was laying down on the bed of the guest room, his phone started vibrating. Buffy was on Facetime, and he answered immediately saying, “Hey, Buff.”

“Hey, Cyrus,” Buffy grinned widely before switching the camera, “look who’s with me!”

Andi waved at the camera, “Hey, Cyrus!”

“Andi,” Cyrus grinned. “How are you? We haven’t talked in like four days.”

“I know right,” Andi laughed. “I’m fine. What about you?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” he said before registering completely that Andi was in Shadyside. “Wait,” he paused, “aren’t you supposed to be in Pennsylvania?”

“Yeah but a professor died, so they gave us two weeks off instead of three days and just postponed winter break.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“I have no idea who he is,” Andi shrugged. “But where are you?”

“With my dad’s sister and her family. I’m just chilling and eating home made food before I go back,” Cyrus smiled. Andi moved over to sit next to Buffy and Cyrus noted that they were at the Mack’s place.

“So enough of that,” Buffy said and then looked at Andi who gave her a stern look. “Come on, let me tell him.”

“Well now you have to tell him,” Andi rolled his eyes.

“That’s very true,” Cyrus agreed.

“I know,” Buffy smirked. “That’s why I said that. Anyways,” she looked right at the camera, “we went to the mall with Amber in her car, but it broke down in the parking lot when we were leaving. She had to call TJ to come pick us up, which was already awkward enough because I always ignore him at school, but I was like whatever, it’s a twenty minute drive. Then in the car, literally, this man, I mean, boy, can ask any question. Any question in the world. Preferably, one directed at his sister, like you know, has your car been acting funky for a while? But he asks me and Andi, ‘How is Cyrus doing?’” Cyrus’ heart dropped. He hasn’t heard anything about TJ in so long he’s forgotten how to react.

“What did you say?” Cyrus asked nervously.

“I said that I charge $50 per fact,” Buffy said, “and he didn’t say anything else.”

“That’s weird,” Cyrus frowned. “I wonder why he doesn’t just ask Amber. I literally call her once a week, every Tuesday.”

“No idea,” Buffy said. “But maybe she just doesn’t answer him for the same reasons I didn’t.”

“Which are?”

“We love you.”

-

anyways follow my main @webarebares <3 thank you for reading! feel free to send asks if something was confusing or if a typo was horrible or just because. i luv u.

[dr0wning-in-hell]

Take It Back - Peter Parker

Summary : Peter and Y/N had been dating for quite some time now, but after the two get into a fight over Peter being Spider-Man, they leave things in a bad place, wishing they could take it all back.

Word Count : 2 k+

Warnings : angst, fighting, car accident, sad stuff

Pairing / Characters : boyfriend!peter Parker x reader, M.J., Aunt May

Prompt : “If requests open still, Peter Parker x reader where something goes wrong and reader ends up in a coma?” - anon

A/N : don’t have much to say, so enjoy!

New masterlist | requests | prompt list

The past few days had been tense. Peter had skipped out on three dates, his excuse always being his duties as the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Of course Y/N, understood what being the hero meant to her boyfriend, but did he really forget his duties as her boyfriend? 

Y/N sighed, a frown crossing her lips as she sat down her phone on her nightstand. It was nearly midnight, usually the time when Peter would call to wish her sweet dreams before she went to bed. That didn’t happen tonight, just like it didn’t happen the night before, or the night before that. Y/N was starting to worry about Peter’s feelings for her. Did he still want her? Did he even want to be her boyfriend anymore? Had he lost feelings. Questions like these buzzed in her brain, numbing her from all other things outside. With that frown still painted on her face, Y/N went to bed with a heavy heart, in hopes that maybe Peter would call or at least text her later that night.

When morning came Y/N didn’t even jump for her phone, knowing pretty well that Peter more than likely didn’t bother to contact her. Since it was the weekend, Y/N thought she might as well pay a visit to Peter’s apartment, check in on him and make sure he wasn’t dead. She through on a pair of jeans and sweatshirt, then headed for his complex. Y/N rehearsed what she would say to him when she got to his door, but when she actually got there her mind went blank. 

“Y/N! Hi there, come in!” Aunt May said excitedly as she let the teen into the apartment. Y/N gave her a weak smile. 

“Hi Aunt May, is Peter home?” Y/N asked, her hands now tucked into the front pockets of her jeans to stop herself from fidgeting with her fingers. 

Aunt May nodded, “Oh yes, he’s just in his room. Go on and head back there if you want.” The woman smiled. Y/N nodded and headed to the room, her heart rate increasing with each step she took. 

Slowly, she knocked on the door, “Peter?” Her voice was quiet. When he didn’t answer she thought she might not have heard her, so she went to knock again but the door swung open. On the other side stood Peter, busted lips and blackened eyes. 

“What are you doing here?” The way those words came out of his mouth stung Y/N’s skin like scolding hot water.  “I just wanted to check in on you.” Y/N took a step back, her whole demeanor changing. Maybe it was a mistake going to his apartment, maybe he just wanted to be left alone. Peter left the door opened and walked back into his room. His suit was thrown in a pile, covered in dirt. Hesitantly, Y/N walked in after him and shut the door behind her. “What happened?” Y/N finally asked.

“Just some stuff, I’m fine.” He sat at the edge of his bed and looked down at his hands. 

“Peter, what’s been going on? I- you flaked on three dates this week, you’ve been distant. Am I not what you want anymore?” Y/N had to ask, she had to let it out.

Peter’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “I missed those dates because I had to save the city, you know that!” Peter shook his head, “You know what being Spider-Man means to me, you know what my duties are.” 

Before she could even process what she was saying, the words slipped from her mouth, “And what about your duties as my boyfriend?” 

Peter’s eyes widened, almost as if he was shocked that she would say something like that. “Not everything is about you, Y/N.” Peter rolled his eyes and scoffed. 

“If being Spider-Man matters more to you than the well being of our relationship, than maybe you should just focus on that.” Peter didn’t even look at her. It hurt. It hurt because he didn’t care. It hurt because he didn’t realize what he was doing to her. Y/N nodded and looked down at her hand, the hand that was wearing a ring Peter had given her for their anniversary. He had saved up all his money to make sure he had enough money to go buy it for her, but now it seemed like it didn’t mater. 

Y/N placed the ring on his desk, looking one last time at the boy who wasn’t even caring that his girlfriend was walking away from an argument that he didn’t care to listen to or fix. Y/N walked out of the apartment as fast as possible, her eyes blurring as she rode the elevator down to the lobby. The tears flowed freely, staining her cheeks with dirty streaks. She walked out of the complex angry and hurt. Her mind was a mess, thinking about everything that just happened, Peter’s attitude towards her, and what she possible could have done to make him so mad. 

The distraction of her thoughts stopped when she heard the screeching of tires and people screaming. Her blurry eyes couldn’t see what was coming at her until it was too late. A semi-truck came at her full speed, hurtling itself onto the sidewalk where she was standing and tossing her back against a store wall. Y/N didn’t even have time to scream, she was already unconscious with blood dripping from her cracked open skull. 

Peter didn’t hear the crash even though it was only a block or so from his complex. The hairs on his arms stood up, his spidey-senses telling him something was wrong, but he ignored it and laid back down. The boy’s brain was now full of it’s own thoughts. He replayed the argument in his head, cringing at his attitude towards his girlfriend who only wanted to make sure that he was okay. 

“How could I do that to her?” He said out loud to himself. 

“Do what to whom?” His aunt’s voice startled him, causing him to jump up and off his bed. “Where’s Y/N?” 

Peter looked down shamefully. “She left, we uh- had an argument and I said something that wasn’t true.” He looked down and shook his head, his own tears filling those beautiful brown of his. “I messed up, Aunt May, I messed up so bad.”

May walked into his room and sat down next to him, “Just talk to her, apologize and work out whatever you need to work out. I’m sure if you try, she’ll forgive you.” She gave him a warm, reassuring smile, gave him a short hug and then left. 

“Just talk to her, it’ll be okay.” Peter mumbled to himself. He picked up his phone and dialed her number, listening to the ringing sound before getting transferred to her voicemail. Peter frowned and tried again, and again, but there was still no answer. Instead this time he tried M.J. Y/N would for sure be with her after the fight, she would want to be with her friend. Peter called his friend and waited for her to pick up.

“Peter? Why are you calling me so early?” M.J.’s voice was groggy, like she just woke up.

The hero furrowed his eyebrows, “Uh- It’s almost noon, M.J.” He shook his head, “Is Y/N there with you?” He asked. There was suilence but then she answered, 

“Nope, she’s not.” Peter didn’t say anything else, he just hung up and went to grab his shoes. He ran into his desk as he went to his closet, the sound of metal hitting the wood made him look down. He squinted, leaning down and picking up the ring that he had given Y/N. She left the ring, something she loved almost as much as she loved him.  “Shit.” Peter mumbled, standing up and shoving the ring into his pants pocket. If Y/N wasn’t answering her phone, and she wasn’t with M.J., then he would just go to her apartment to check on her. 

As Peter walked down the streets of New York, he could hear the faint sound of people talking, lots of people were talking. Peter walked closer to where the individuals were, his eyes widening as he took in the sight. A truck was knocked over on its side, glass sprayed out across the street and side walk, then near one of the stores was a pool of drying blood. 

“What happened here?” He asked one of the people standing near him. 

“Some girl was hit by the truck, it through her straight into that wall over there. Poor thing was unconscious as soon as the truck hit her.” The person said sadly as they looked over at the wall. Something caught Peter’s eye. It was a phone, Y/N’s phone to be exact. 

“No- no, no, no.” He picked up the phone and sprinted, heading to the main trauma care hospital. With his enhanced speed, and then adrenaline on top of that, he was at the hospital in seconds and then at the front desk. 

“How can I help you?” The lady behind the desk asked, not bothering to look at the teen boy who stood in front of her. “Did a girl come in here by ambulance? She was hit by a semi-truck?” Peter asked frantically. The woman looked up and nodded, “Where is she? She’s my girlfriend.”

“She’s in room 215-” The lady didn’t even finish her sentence before Peter was running down the hall, going to find that room. 

It took him about 15 minutes to find her room, but he secretly wished he never had. On that uncomfortable hospital bed, laid his loving girlfriend Y/N, a tube stuck down her throat, I.V. and blood pumping through her body. She had a bandage wrapped around her head, blood clear as day staining one side of it. Peter fell to the ground, knees buckling under his own weight. 

“Y/N/N, Y/N, baby.” Peter whispered as he crawled towards her, hands outreached to touch her cold skin. “No, baby.” He whimpered. Her skin was nearly ice cold, skin pale and graying. 

This was his fault. If he just would have talked to her instead of ignoring her she wouldn’t be laying in that bed, stuck in an endless sleep. Peter cried silently, trying not to make a single sound that he wasn’t found. He just wished he could take it back, take it all back and talk to her. 

“Sir, are you alright?” A nurse walking by had asked him. Peter gave a slow, almost barely noticeable nod of his head. The nurse walked off after that, and Peter was left alone with his girlfriend. 

Through a storm of tears and sniffling Peter mumbled out, “I’m sorry baby, I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said, you’re my whole world and even more. I love you so much you have no idea. I’d do anything for you, anything.” He whispered. His voice was cracking from being such an emotional wreck. “I’m sorry.” 

Peter sat there on the floor for a few more minutes before he began looking for her file. It had to be in the room right? Something about Y/N’s condition had to be in the room. The hero searched and searched, until he found just a small piece of paper sitting in a basket connected to her heart monitor.

Status - Coma, Persistent vegetative state.

Now Peter really wished he could take it all back.

[anonfeather]

Book Resolution

@ashilrak ‘s  Hamilton Gift Exchange Winter 2k17 has been revealed! Here’s my gift for Chaosgiver .

Summary:  Thomas finds out that Burr is alone for New Years and convinces Madison to finally ask him out.

Content: Lewd language because of Thomas, silliness, fluff with a dash of conflict. Madison/Burr, Wingman!Thomas

Rating: Teen

James Madison was curled up on his couch, tightly wrapped in his thick blanket, enjoying, in his opinion, the best novel ever written. It was how he always spent his New Year; away from the crowds and noise, reading late until the sun rose.

Suddenly his phone rang. He glared at it as it continued blaring on the table. The obnoxious ringtone was Thomas’, upsetting his quiet evening. He ignored it until it rang again. His best friend wouldn’t stop unless he answered or turned off it off. In both cases he would need to unwrap himself from his warm cocoon.

Sighing, he did what was wisest (though, it’s still up for debate). “What do you want?”

“Well howdy, such a polite greeting. I’m fine, by the way, thanks for asking,” said Thomas, grin in voice.

“You better be calling me for an emergency, and it better be good.”

“Ah,” Thomas nervously laughed. “Well, here’s the thing, a little piggy, ” Hamilton, James translated in his mind, “told me that Burr was spending New Year alone.”

“So am I.”

“Yeah, but you’re weird. Him, however, is his first holiday alone since his divorce finalized. And, seeing as you’ve been heads over heels for that guy since Princeton-”

“I have not!” Quickly rebuked James, causing Thomas to taunt him.

“Yeah, right. It’s just a coincidence that all the men you’ve dated in the past have been bald dark beauties then.”

It was true that James was interested in Burr - Aaron - ever since he met him in law school. At that time, James had been too insecure in his sexuality to make a move, while Aaron flourished and flirted with all. They lost touch after James graduated. Luck would have it, a few years later, Aaron got hired in the same firm.

James quickly had learned that the younger man had married and started a small family. Sadly, earlier in the year his wife filed for divorce. No one in the office knew of the details; Aaron kept his private affair to himself. They only knew about the separation when someone (Hamilton) gossiped about his request for a day off to sign the last legal papers.

“So, I have a type,” he conceded has Thomas continued to list the ways James was pinning after their colleague. “Get to the point, please. What do you want from me?”

“Well, to get you laid?”

“Thomas!”

“What? It’s true! This is the perfect set up. He’s lonely, he’ll definitely go for rebound sex. Follow my instructions and you’ll bag him. I’m texting you the address.”

“I’m not going!”

“C’mon, I’ve got the perfect play to get you in his pants.”

“God damn it, man. I don’t want to sleep with him - Well, okay, I do, but not like this. Just eventually. I want to date him....”

“Fine, then ask him out instead!”

“I’ll… I’ll do it after the holidays.”

“No you won’t; you’ll choke.”

“...No? I won’t?” The answer lacked so much conviction that it came out as pitiful statement.

“James - if you like this guy, you better act on it. Right now is your best shot!” After some cajoling, Thomas finally convinced James to go by arguing that Burr would be depressed seeing as it would be his first holiday without his wife and daughter. James’ compassion won out; he was the oddball for enjoying spending festive holidays alone. “Now stop your grumbling and put your coat on, or you’ll catch your death in the snow,” Thomas mothered.

James was dressed and heading to Burr’s apartment in record time. He managed to avoid the throngs of drunken crowds as he made his way over there. He kept the phone to his ear, getting encouragements from his pushy wingman because on more than one occasion he was ready to turn around. He hung up on Thomas twice when the other man became too unsupportable with his lewd comments. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to do once there. He didn’t want to use Thomas’ game of deceit, but at the same time, he had no other excuse to use.

oOoOoOo

“Ok, did you knock yet?” Thomas asked over the phone, while James stood, back ramrod straight in front of his crush’s door.

“No, not yet... I’m nervous.”

“Damn it James, you’ve been standing like a fool for five minutes already. Knock! Or else I’m gonna have to do it for you. I’ll drag my bodacious ass over there to blow the door down, then explain to Burr-dearest that he’s the light of your life -”

“It’s just a small infatuation!”

“Not in my version of the story! Oh, yeah, gonna tell him about all the lonely nights you’ve been staying awake rubbing your nipple; screaming in delight -”

Red in face, half by anger and half by embarrassment, James quickly rapped on the door.

“Good boy!” congratulated Thomas. A second more, James turned away from the door. “James?! Are you walking away?!”

“There wasn’t an answer…”

“Give the guy a break; he might’ve been sleeping.”  James groaned at the idea that he was disturbing the man’s slumber. “Go back there!” Thomas ordered.

He returned, twitching in place; suddenly sincerely hoping that Aaron had been sleeping too deeply to hear him. Alas, the door opened, letting Aaron peer out. “Madison?”

He wasn’t dress for sleep, instead he had an elegant dark turtleneck that hugged his body so rightly, drawing to his narrow hips.

James fumbled to dump his phone in his pocket, hastily pulling out a badly wrapped gift, thrusting it towards Aaron.

It was Thomas’ dumb idea.

Aaron looked curiously at the gift, then at Madison, waiting for an explanation. Or at least a greeting. James mentally kicked himself.

“I - I forgot to give your Christmas present… And -” He couldn’t believe he was doing this. “And it’s bad luck to open a Christmas gift after New Year… So it couldn’t wait until work…”

Aaron smiled softly. “Is that so?” His questioned politely showed that he didn’t believe the superstition, but at the same time it wasn’t insulting it if was a true belief. “Well, thank you. I have no gift in return, however..”

“It’s fine. I should go. I -”

James’ phone buzzed with a text. Compelled, he pulled it out; checking the text. Thomas was feeding his reply.

This was so dumb.

“Actually, could I come in for a glass of water first..? I’m thirsty..?”

Aaron blinked slowly, then invited him to enter. “Sure.” He left the door open so that James could step inside, while he went to the kitchen. James took in the sight; the place was elegant, with modern furnishing. Spacious. Maybe too much, making it feel more than empty.

“James!” His phone harshly whispered. Thomas never hung up. “James!”

He dragged it to his ear, after checking that Aaron was still occupied. “What? Why are you still there?”

“Have to watch over my boo,” Thomas joked. “God, you’re horrible that this whole flirting thing.”

“I’m not flirting.”

“No shit, I could have told you that. Anyways, take off your shoes, get comfy on his couch.”

“What?!”

“If you settled in, he can’t kick you out too quickly. He’ll have to make some small talk, then find the right opportunity to see you out.”

Sighed, he did as told, sliding the phone back in his pocket when he saw Aaron coming back, tall glass of water in hand. He lifted a questioning eyebrow at James, but avoided mentioning how the other was no longer waiting at the door. A polite smile plastered his face. James sensed it was fake; still he couldn’t help but admiring the other’s poise and handsome features.

“Erm,” said James, small talk being a skill he lacked. Luckily, Aaron took charge, joining his unexpected guest on the couch.

“How about I open your gift?”

“Yes, great idea!”

“After all, we wouldn't want bad luck. Who would have it? You or me?”

“Huh?”

“The bad luck. Is it me or you that would have it if I delay opening it?” He lightly teased.

“Oh.. Both..?”

Aaron smiled ruefully, but said no more about it. James looked on shamefully at the wrapping. He had no fancy wrappings at home, finding it a useless gimmick. Thomas convinced him to use the most colorful junk mail he could find. Still, Aaron was polite, and delicately pulled it apart with the same respect one would for quality wrapping. “Yeah, sorry for that.”

“Nonsense, I like the concept of recycling paper,” Aaron said. His diplomacy knew no bounds. Once, the wrapping was undone he checked the gift over. It was a book; the same one James had been so safely been reading earlier. It was an old treasured copy, with multiple dog-eared pages and annotations. James had it for a least ten years. He felt the need to elaborate, and he went with Thomas’ cover story.

“There’s a tradition in Iceland.. Ah Jólabókaflóð... Ok, I’m not pronouncing it right… Anyways, it means book flooding… They, ah, exchange books for Christmas and everyone reads. I thought it’s an interesting idea, and I like reading. You like reading. I thought that you’d like to read my favorite.”

“That’s thoughtful,” Aaron said, weighing his words.

“I’m glad you like it. I -”

“Madison,” He interrupted. “Why are you really here?”

“What? Your gift an --”

“Please don’t lie. I know you’re here because Jefferson sent you. Heard you on the phone with him. Is this because of the merger?” James was confused. “Because, like I told Jefferson, I’ll share my opinion during the meeting next Monday. So, good try, being friendly to lower my guard, but I think it might be time for you to leave.”

“No, no, this has nothing to do with that.” James said, remembering the upcoming merger that their law firm might undergo. “I’m sorry -  this - I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.” James stood up rapidly, spinning his coat on his back.

“Please, calm down,” Aaron said softy, to placate his stressed guest. He was ready to give the other a chance to defend themselves. “If you didn’t come for that then why did you come?”

“I-,” James couldn’t explain. His jaw locked up, wits leaving. Aaron waited, face neutral, but a slight finger twitching on his crossed arms. Silence stretched until it was interrupted by energetic yelling from James’ pant pocket.

“Hey! Hey!” Shouted Thomas through the phone. “Pick up, pick up!” James pulled the phone out, listening to Thomas, before handing it to Aaron.

Aaron lifted the device, humming on occasion as Thomas gave unending details. James’ heart pounded so hard that he didn’t hear whatever Aaron was saying to Thomas. He focused on leaving and was proud to have managed to put his shoes on at this point. Hand on the doorknob, he was ready to leave, when Aaron told him to wait.

“Your phone,” he said handing it.

“Oh, yes. Thank you.” Awkwardly he wondered if he should say something. Anything. “It’s Thomas’ fault.”

“Of course it is,” Aaron agreed flatly. “You wanted sex.”

“What, no! Damn it, Thomas,” he cursed the absent man. “That’s not - I wanted to ask you out. On a date.”

The confession soften Aaron’s attitude. “Oh.”

“I think you’re great. Smart, handsome. It’s great spending time together during breaks. Would be fantastic to spend more time out of work -”

“Madison,” Aaron stopped him. Then started over more softly. “James, I’m not ready to date. My divorce finalised two weeks ago...”

“No, yes, I understand. I thought it would be too early; I wanted to give you time… But Thomas… You know how he is” James rubbed his forehead in grief. “I better go.” This time, Aaron didn’t stop him.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said as he closed the door. James shuffled back to his place, venting to Thomas through texts that everything was his fault. Thomas replied to the accusations through emojis.

oOoOoOo

“Ah, so glad the day is finally over!” Exclaimed Thomas as he entered the elevator with James. “One minute more of Hamilton and I would have to punched him.”

“If you did, you’d fracture your hand on his hard-head,” James deadpanned, causing Thomas to smirk in agreement.

“Hold the door please,” out of instinct, James pressed the open button, a split second faster than Thomas’ closed button. James rolled his eyes at Thomas’ childishness. He then realised maybe he should have let the other win the game.

It was Aaron.

They stayed civilised to each other at work in the following weeks, avoiding any New Year discussions. Aaron was masterful at making James forget the awkwardness with his social grace.

“Hi, hi” he greeted each with a nod. It was awkward for a moment, until Aaron broke the silence by giving James his complete attention. “James, I was wondering what you’re doing tomorrow night?”

“Huh? Ah, nothing,” James said in surprised.

“How about we get a cup of coffee? I finished the book you gave me, and I’d like to discuss it.”

James smiled through the bewilderment of the invitation, eagerly accepting it. “Great, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Aaron timed his goodbye with the opening door, slipping out with ease.

“Well damn, Jemmy got a date,” Thomas commented.

“What - no it’s just a cup of coffee.”

“What day is it tomorrow?”

“Wednesday?”

“February 14th.”

“... That means nothing. He probably didn’t notice…”

“Huh-uh,” Thomas said unconvinced. “The book you gave; it was your old copy with all the annotations in it, wasn’t it?”

“Yes…”

“You remember you lent it to me right?”

“What are you getting at?” James said, getting annoyed.

“Chapter 17? Remember how much I teased you about it?”

“...Vaguely…”

“I told you that if you wanted to write your crush’s name in little swoony hearts you should put it in a diary? Hell, I even got you one, gluing purple rhinestones all over? Remember that?”

It was coming back to him. “Crap… I wrote his name.”

“Yep!” James face was red from the embarrassment. Thomas threw his arm around his short friend, musing his hair around. “Awesome technique. Imma have to write it down!”

“I have a date with Aaron!” James realised. “Thomas! You have to help me prepare!” He said, gripping the other’s arms tightly.

oOoOoOo

James was a wreck when came time for the date. Thomas hyped the event so much that he almost passed out while he got dressed. Luckily, Aaron calmness relaxed him when they greeted.

Aaron took the lead of the discussion, talking about the book and what he enjoyed about it. James gave his input, occasionally referring to some annotations he left, trying to gage if Aaron had read them, and what he thought of those in chapter 17. Aaron’s tactical brilliance allowed him to avoid answering. James started to wonder if he misread the tone of the invitation because of Thomas, and Aaron was being polite to save him from the embarrassment.

It was a pleasant time, but James had to clear up the situation before they parted.

“Aaron, can I ask… Was this a date..? It’s Valentine’s Day.”

Aaron looked at him for long seconds, then turned away. “I’m sorry... No. I can understand the confusion. I didn’t want to spend the evening alone. It’s.. My divorce-” He gave up trying to explain his turmoil. “Without meaning to cause offense, but I didn’t think you would have noticed the date…You’re not the type to be sentimental about holidays...”

“You’re right, I don’t care about it.  I just had to make sure. Thomas - he said it was… “

“Of course,” Aaron said, slight discomfort that Thomas caused another misunderstanding. The silence stretched awkwardly, for once Aaron’s grace didn’t save the day.

“So, do you, do you want to talk about your divorce?” James bit his lips after blurting his question.

“Sometimes,” Aaron sipped his coffee. James kept quiet as encouragement. After a long sigh, he added: “It was… mutual?”

“Hm?” James frowned from the statement. Aaron didn’t seem to believe what he said.

“I mean, somewhat. She said she didn’t love me anymore… And that she was staying for Theo. We tried counselling for months… When everything was said and done, she still didn’t love me anymore. She was feeling so much guilt about it too. So, it was best in to end it…”

“I’m sorry,” James didn’t know what else to add.

“It’s fine, I’m slowly getting over it. But it’s hard. Sorry dragging you into this.”

“I don’t mind.”

“It’s unfair for you,” Aaron didn’t look at James. “You…” He didn’t dare finish his thought. Instead, he swirled his coffee, looking at the deep into it.

James didn’t know what to add. He didn’t want to cause Aaron guilt and have him avoid him in the future. So, instead, he changed the subject and asked if Aaron had any book recommendations. This caused him to look up, and offer his suggestions, eager to change the subject. They exchanged a few words and agree to hold another book meeting in a few weeks.

oOoOoOo

“So, how was the date?” Thomas greeted James with the question. “Did you get lay?”

James rolled his eyes in annoyance. “It wasn’t a date.”

Thomas groaned in frustration. “Argh! Why did you blow it?”

“I didn’t blow anything.”

“You should have,” Thomas said with a lewd grin, that was wiped off his face when James punched him in the shoulder. “Ow! Okay, okay. Lemme be serious a moment.”

“Is it something you can do?”

“Har, har,” Thomas harked. “If it wasn’t a date than what was it?”

“He was lonely. He needed a friend.”

“Oh god, you got friendzoned.”

“So what if I did? And I don't’ care. I like him. It’s fine if we just hang as friends.”

“What about your dry spell!”

“Thomas, you’re much more invested in my sex life than I am.”

“I’m looking out for you.”

“Well, can you lay off between me and Aaron. He’s not ready to date. And it’s fine if he doesn’t want to date me. We’re friends. Your involvement is making everything a mess.”

Thomas grumbled. “Fine. Can I butt in with other dudes?”

James sighed, but agreed to the compromise.

“Great!” Thomas pulled out his phone showing a dating application. “How ‘bout him? Wanna do him?”

oOoOoOo

Over the next couple of weeks, Aaron invited James out for coffee for more books discussions. Once they finish recommending their favorites, they decided to blind buy some novels and read them together at a lounge coffee shop. It was starting to become a tradition.

“James, are you free on Friday?” Asked Aaron as he poked his head into his office. “We finished on a cliffhanger; I really want to know what happens next.” Before James could give an answer, Thomas, present for his morning rant against Hamilton, answered.

“No, James got a date with hot guy #12.”

“Oh.” It sounded surprised. Or disappointed.

“Sorry,” James said ashamed for Thomas’ attitude. “He’s allowed to set me up on a date once a week; I have no say in it.”

“I see,” Aaron didn’t press forward for more details about the agreement.

“If you want,” Thomas said, “I can include you in the deal?”

“Ah, no thanks. I’m fine, I should go.”

“Aaron, wait. Maybe Saturday?” James said before the other could leave.

“Yeah Saturday’s perfect. Thanks! I’ll see you then.” He closed the door discreetly behind.

“Hm,” Thomas said in contemplation.

“What?”

“Nothing - I’m not allowed to butt in anymore with Burr. So, please ignore my intuitive hummings.” James rolled his eyes.

“Can I go back to work, or have you not finished your new Hamilton related complaint?”

“As if I’ll ever finish about that guy!” Thomas exclaimed being baited in the subject change.

oOoOoOo

“So, how was your date?” For once, the question didn’t come from Thomas, but from Aaron.

“It was meh. The guy was a gym nut; not my type. Still gave him a chance for Thomas’ sake.”

“I see... Why does Thomas set you up on dates?”

“He’s a busybody; he doesn’t want to fix his own life, so he does mine instead. It makes him happy.”

“I see.”

“He was serious by the way. If you ever want to go on a date sometimes; ask him and he’ll find you someone. Probably not someone you’ll have any interest in. But he’ll work his horrible magic.”

Aaron smiled at James softly. “No, I’m fine. Things are good.”

“Shame; I really could have taken a break from his meddling.” James replied.  “Ok, let’s gets started.”

oOoOoOo

“From what I understood, Jólabókaflóð is for Christmas, not New Years,” Stated James entering Aaron’s appartement. It’s been a whole year since last he came to his place. After James cocooned himself in his traditional blankets, Aaron texted him, inviting him over to read with him. He didn’t want to be alone, but he didn’t want to be in a crowd. James didn’t hesitate and headed over to his friend’s place.

“True, but we can Americanize it anyway we want,” Aaron bantered.

Aaron offering a cup of wine to his guest, who gladly accepted it, before they settled down on the couch. They read in delightful silence, until Aaron spoke up.

“It’s almost midnight.”

James checked his watch. “Oh, indeed.”

“Did you make a New Year’s resolution?”

“Naw. I don’t believe in them.”

“You don’t believe in New Year’s resolution?”

“Okay ‘believe’ is wrong choice of word; it’s more like you don’t need one. You can decide whenever you want to change an aspect of you life. Don’t need to wait on a specific date. I feel like waiting around New Year to do so is a.. social superstition.”

“Says the guy who believes that opening a Christmas gift after New Year is bad luck.”

“Hey, I told you Thomas told me to say that!”

Aaron laughed, he enjoyed teasing the other about the event. After he calmed down, he looked at James seriously. “Well, I made one.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,”James didn’t ask what it was, not wanting to pry. So Aaron pursued. “Would you like to know?”

“Only if you want to share it.”

“I’d like to tell you. My New Year’s resolution is that I’m ready to date.” Aaron shared this info, bright smile with light in his eyes.

“Thomas will be glad to hear that. He’s been running out of guys to set me up with.” James looked dejected, seeing his friendship with Aaron would be limited as the other became available for others.

“He’ll definitely hound us for sure.” Aaron frowned when James didn’t take the hint. Time to be succinct. “James, I’d like to go on a date with you next year.”

“... Oh!” James stammered, not knowing what he should say or do. “So.. erm..”

Aaron, bless his talent to dispel James’ anxiety, told him what do to.”Next year is in ten seconds, so please come over here and kiss me.”

They could hear the chanting countdown from the partying crowd outside. Their lips touch when the outside world celebrated the New Year.

Please comment! Please check out all the other fics for the exchange too!  Hamilton Gift Exchange Winter 2k17

My tile sucked :\ Didn’t know what to put. So my story had Book and then a New Year’s resolution. So! Book Resolution. 

[peacefulwriter88]

Space in Between - Part 2

A/N: Remember this old gem? Sorry it’s been a while – because I work for a school district work comes in tides and waves. Things have slowed down a wee bit that I can dedicate my luv to this sweet little space nerd. Also I might post part 3 after the 2:00 NFL games....

Warnings: None yet :) 

Tag List:  @sleepretreat @lancetucker @xxhuffelpuff-girlxx

Day 1

It was wearing on him. He looked down at the neat, signed papers resting on his desk, looked at the perfect penmanship of his wife – correction his ex-wife – signature and re-read the words staring up at him from the page.

He didn’t know how it had ended like this.

He had wanted to make her happy, make his son proud. But she couldn’t handle his obsession of space, still constantly needed to unveil all of its mysteries with their family. Didn’t want to deal with the disappointment anymore. Even after she moved back North, he had followed her. Tried to work their marriage life. Tried to lead a normal life.

But it hadn’t worked. He had found the whole situation dull and she knew it. It wasn’t like him. He wanted to continue to push the continuum, not settle down and read about it.

So, a year and a half ago they separated. Three months later, he was delivered divorce papers.

He tried therapy. Tried reconnecting with her. But her mind was made – divorce. Not only was the process shamefully painful, but it was also a prolonged son of a bitch.

These were the last papers after the meetings with lawyers, after hundreds of emails and even more calls. After strained smiles and moving out. After rebuilding his life alone. He had his son, of course, but only twice a weekend and one Wednesday. Elijah was still only two, still too young to understand the consequences of their decisions and he wanted to maintain some normalcy around that.

He looks back down at the papers, sighing deeply before picking up his pen and signing his name on the crisp line. He pushed the paper back into the envelope before licking it closed, the dark letters of the law firm peering back at him.

The past three years of his life was disappearing in the form of ink and paper.

Life was a son of a bitch.

Day 7

It was only a week, but as he sat in his apartment, a cold beer in his hands as he looked down at the book in his hands he knew there was a problem.

Beth didn’t have a problem bouncing back. According to Alex and his fiancé, she was doing just fine. Barely made eye contact with him when he picked Elijah up, barely acknowledged him when he dropped Elijah off. Her hair was different. Cut short, framing the fine features of her face. She had color back in her cheeks and smiled more.

She was probably seeing someone.

That was what had caused this distraction. He wanted to move on and couldn’t.

Day 17

Autumn was coming. You could smell it in the air, feel it when you walked from building to building on the large campus. His senses were coming back again. Food wasn’t bland anymore. Was chilled when the east coast air flew in.  His brain started applying things he saw in real life to how they could function in space. He laughed at dumb jokes Alex, or Mark or Rick called.

He was starting to feel like him.

Day 25

It was too soon. It was a month into the semester, a month into his inherited role as professor of Environmental Sciences. He had adjusted to his role on campus – half professor, half infamous astronaut that had been one of the few who had gone to Mars. He shielded away from his celebratory status, trying to deny talking at any events or going to any special dinners. Trying to keep to himself as he tried to figure out what the hell he wanted to do next.

And then you had happened.

It had been in late September, a few weeks before homecoming. He hadn’t forgotten about you, hadn’t forgotten about the way you had shed light to his celebrity.

But now you were different.

You were attentive. You came to class over-prepared, your laptop at the ready as your eyes followed him throughout the classroom. You pushed back on theories that he synopsized about, providing new solutions. You questioned everything, wanted to know everything.

At first, he had thought it was a child’s crush. A lot of the women (and men) had made it obvious they were attracted to him. Alex even teased you about it, also working on campus on a few science projects.

“Every woman on this campus, student and faculty alike, are curious about Dr. Chris Beck.” He would coo, resulting in a soft punch or a chuckle.

It was flattering but it was the last thing on his mind.

Until there was you.

You weren’t asking dumb questions, like everyone else would after class. You would dig to the root, genuinely curious as you shuffled through your piles of paper, presenting them to him as he tried to pack up. When you showed up to his office hours, it was with articles on articles that ran parallel to lessons he was teaching in application to what it would look like in space.

And that was what drew him in.

You were just as obsessed about it as him. You would bite your bottom lip as you shuffled through papers, looking at your laptop trying to spot differences as your free hand would write out equations. Your eyes would furrow together, your hair falling in your face as you absently pushed it aside. The way your face would light up, jumping in enthusiasm as you would point out something to him.

It had him excited. Had his blood pumping to do just as much research – wanted to gauge your response when he brought up something new to you.

Had him looking forward to class. And he knew that was a problem.

Perhaps he needed a hobby. Or get laid.

He probably just needed to get laid.

Day 31

You were wearing mustard. It was a color he didn’t have any opinion on before until he saw it on you. Mustard patterned dress that accentuated your breast and stopped a little above your knees. Intricate designed tights that stuck to your skin like it was a part of them. High brown boots that moved past your calf. Your hair was thrown up in a bun as you laughed alongside the two friends you always came to class with, finding your seat as he brushed through the pages.

He cursed himself again.

Freshly divorced and barely halfway through his first month teaching and he was in full heat over you – a student.

He had tried dating. Tried to have casual sex. It was useless because he already knew that he belonged to you.

“Who’s the girl?” Alex had asked, bringing a beer to his lips as Rick quirked up an eyebrow.

“Girl? There’s a girl in newly single Beck’s life?”

Rick had flown in the night before and they had decided to quickly catch up for dinner after work. He had rolled his eyes, falling back in his seat as he shook his head.

“There is no girl. I have no idea what Alex is referring to.”

Rick, always happy to instigate, turns back to Alex who’s shaking his head chuckling.

“You’re full of shit and you know it. Lisa’s been trying to set this guy up with everyone she knows. Every woman so far, who have literally thrown themselves at his feet, haven’t been called back for a second date. Haven’t been invited to his home. So either Beth made you a eunuch or there’s someone else preoccupying your mind”

He had tried to brush it aside, taking a swing of his drink as Rick exclaims,

“You have females throwing themselves at you, newly free and ready to party and you’ve been throwing that away.”

“Listen,” he finally says, their eyes watching him carefully. “I’m not trying to jump back into another relationship. Not trying to just mess around with a woman. Did that enough in my twenties.”

“Now you’re in your mid-thirties and got all the time in the world.” Rick continues and he scoffs.

“I’m just trying to enjoy being with me.”

They had watched him, rolling their eyes before jumping into another conversation. He was grateful, grateful for the distraction as he tried to remind himself of the same thing.

But now you were in his classroom, wearing that damn dress that hit your curves just right, and he was stuck questioning if he was full of shit. He tried to ignore you as you leaned into your friend Mara, turning his attention to the white board. He only gets through half of what he needs to write before he hears your exclaim,

“What!?”

He turns back to the group, sighing before clearing his throat. Perhaps he could feel you out. Maybe you were also just as into him as he was you. He thinks back to the conversation he had earlier with Alex,

“Listen, I wasn’t trying to call you out in front of Rick last night.”

He had shrugged it off, scrolling through his phone while they waited at the coffee cart and Alex sighed.

“Come on – we’re going to dinner this weekend. Will probably go out dancing after. You should come and have a good time. Lisa has this friend ...”

“No more Lisa dates.” He cuts Alex off and Alex chuckles, slapping him on his back.

“Well you gotta get out since you’re a newly single man. Beth’s dating – don’t see why you don’t.”

They take another step forward and he groans, shaking his head.

“Beth’s been dating for months. Good for her. I’m just not sure I’m ready.”

Alex snorts, shaking his head before pointing to his phone. “Please. Let me guess – you were answering a text from that woman you’ve been talking to.” Chris gives a blank stare as Alex continues, “Listen, I know you haven’t blatantly said it out loud but I know there’s another girl because of the signs. You always bring up this mystery woman that you’ve been meeting for coffee to discuss environmental science theories because that’s a thing. You always are checking your phone to see if she’s sending you messages and when she does, you smile. Don’t play dumb with me Beck, I know a crush when I see one.”

He had tried to mask the smile that was inevitably spreading on his face as Alex finishes,

“Just invite her or whatever. Do it for all of us – her included. Sure she’s tired of you leading her on.”

It couldn’t hurt to see. He did like you. And if you weren’t into him, then he could go back to feeling miserable for himself like had been for the past year and focus on his future.

[taegijae-blog]

BREAKFAST DELIVERY 10

pairing: 2jae

genre: fluff, if you squint there’s angst

word count: 3k

description: the school’s hottest boy im jaebum wants to get a certain boy’s number.  but the first problem is: he’s unhappy and not eating.

status: completed

note: this was originally posted on wakaba’s wattpad @/jaeholics

| part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 |

Thank God the day following that event was a Saturday, otherwise he'd have to shamefully face the two hearts he managed to break in one day.

Jaebum rolled around in his bed, hugging on the blankets, mumbling incoherently to himself. He felt like absolute garbage. Seeing that his alarm clock read 10:37, he slumped out of bed and dragged himself down to the bathroom. The house was empty as usual, meaning he could totally throw a party that night. If, you know, he didn't feel like dying. As he squirted some toothpaste onto his toothbrush and madly scrubbed his pearly whites, he groaned as he stared at himself in the mirror. He knew he was a good looking guy whose looks would attract mostly every gal or guy. After rinsing out his mouth, he smacked some water across the mirror and blurred the reflection of his sad-looking self. For once, he wished he was ugly. Jaebum tiredly zombie-walked his way over to the kitchen, checking the fridge for any food that possibly could've been left for him. Seeing that it was empty except for some eggs and milk, he already knew that his plans would be to go out for both lunch and dinner. Opening a cupboard, he grabbed a box of fruity cereal and dumped it into a ceramic bowl, pouring milk in after doing so. His dear cat, Nora, crawled up to his feet and rubbed herself against the skin lovingly. "At least you're here," he muttered under his breath, slurping some milk from his bowl as he made his way to the couch. He turned on the television and stared dully at the skin, allowing his pet to crawl onto his lap and rest there. Realizing that he hadn't checked his phone in a while, Jaebum reached for it since it was laying on the coffee table. He turned it on, only to be met with over a hundred missed text messages. annoyed, he unlocked his phone and saw that a particular someone added him to a chat group overnight after he fell asleep, which was the main cause of the overload of messages. He squinted at his screen while he scrolled through the messages. It took him a while to realize that those numbers were familiar to him: Jackson Wang, Park Jinyoung, and Choi Youngjae. The last message was sent a few hours ago, so he didn't bother sending anything to indicate that he read the chat. He put down his bowl of breakfast and became invested into the conversation they were having, feeling more and more uneasy. Nora jumped onto the table and quietly drank some of the milk as Jaebum's foot tapped in anxiousness. wango, 2 others [jype]: i'm muting this chat btw [wango]: bro I just want u to listen to my proposal [c.youngjae]: why do you even have my number?? [wango]: thats not important just listen rn [wango]: so jb hyung's like super depressed aight? [wango]: I HOPE HES READING THIS BTW WINK WINK [jype]: winking in text doesn't do anything [wango]: anyway [wango]: i want all three of you to meet up [wango]: and work this out together [wango]: i'm not going to interfere bc this is a u guys issue!! [wango]: u gotta fix it urselves arasso?? [c.youngjae]: ...how tho [wango]: there's a nice place in town [wango]: it's called Cafe A [wango]: all of three meet up there by 3 and talk it out!! [wango]: idc if you're busy or not [wango]: (unless ur planning to meet ur family bc then please go ahead and do that first family is first priority) [wango]: ARASSO?? [jype]: our 'talk' isnt going to last long, you know. [jype]: theres not much I can say

[jype]: it's always been a one sided thing anyway [jype]: i know he likes youngjae way more than he likes me [jype]: and i'm okay with that. [jype]: i just don't want to be thrown away because of that 'love' he has for him. [jype]: you reading this, youngjae? [c.youngjae]: yes, hyung... [jype]: good. [jype]: i don't hate you or anything. it's not like that.

[jype]: it's true that ive liked him since middle school [jype]: but I always knew that it'd ended up being like this [jype]: and how he isn't the kind of person to fall for his best friend [jype]: so I prepared myself for when this sort of thing happens   [jype]: it won't bother me, youngjae. go ahead and date him. [c.youngjae]: hyung, i [c.youngjae]: ...you have to understand that i don't really like him at the moment [c.youngjae]: i'm not sure if i'd agree to that [jype]: that's a shame [jype]: because a really great guy has a huge crush on you [jype]: and it's a waste for you to be ignorant about that. [wango]: ... [wango]: hoh my god  [wango]: i'm a rly good problem fixer

[wango]: jinyoung? 

[wango]: u still there?

[wango]: i guess not 

[jype]: i have plans for today. i'm not going to that cafe. [wango]: oh [wango]: well I guess it's fine now since u guys talked it out!! yeah!!! [wango]: youngjae, don't be discouraged! [wango]: both jaebum-hyung and jinyoung r amazing people [wango]: even tho they seem rly scary and act cold [wango]: its just their way of caring [wango]: ive known them for a long time [wango]: theyre literally the best friends ive ever had [wango]: jinyoung is a rly wise person, there's always a good reason to whatever he does [wango]: jaebum-hyung has sides to him that r like a dad or big brother that u can rely on [wango]: ... [wango]: youngjae??? [c.youngjae]: yeah [c.youngjae]: i'm listening [c.youngjae]: thank you, hyung [wango]: no problem man

[wango]: now go get that dick [c.youngjae]: ???? [wango]: jk jk lol [wango]: r u going to meet up w Jaebum-hyung at the cafe? it's a rly nice place I swear [c.youngjae]: maybe [c.youngjae]: i haven't heard what he says tho... [wango]: aw true [wango]: let me spam him brb [c.youngjae]: wait don't spam him;; what if he's just asleep?

[wango]: 

ugh ur too nice

[wango]:

fine I won't

[wango]:

i'll go spam markiepooh instead♥️♥️

[c.youngjae]:

...right

[c.youngjae]: the other number in this chat is Jaebum-hyung, right?

[wango]: yep!! slide into his dms boy

[c.youngjae]: ;;

Jaebum instantly realized the doom he was about to face.

"No, no, no, no, no!" He literally screamed at his phone, trying to do everything to prevent Youngjae from knowing.

It was probably too late.

[c.youngjae]: ?

[c.youngjae]: wait

[c.youngjae]: but

[c.youngjae]: ;;

[c.youngjae]: isnt that defsoul-hyung's number...

[c.youngjae]: ...it is

[c.youngjae]: hyung.

[c.youngjae]: ... [jaybee]: are you mad at me? [c.youngjae]: no

[c.youngjae]:  even though I did just find out you were double tricking me

[jaybee]: i never meant to make fun of you or anything

[jaybee]: about that party

[jaybee]: i knew bambam only as 'def soul'

[jaybee]: i'm sure you can also tell that he doesn't like me bc im known as that rude, popular shit called im jaebum

[jaybee]: and rapmon told me to come anyway

[jaybee]: btw his real name is namjams

[c.youngjae]: what's your point

[jaybee]: i want to have a second chance

[jaybee]: i know ive been a horrible person, hiding behind two identities just so I could talk to you

[jaybee]: please

[jaybee]: i only ever wanted to cheer you up

[c.youngjae]: ...

[c.youngjae]: i feel stupid for sending you all those messages

[c.youngjae]: no wonder you knew where I was and that I didn't have an umbrella

[c.youngjae]: i feel like you've played me and you probably did 

[c.youngjae]: but the def soul hyung I know is a caring person

[c.youngjae]: and if youre him

[c.youngjae]: then I can hope that your kindness is just as genuine

[c.youngjae]: because I think it's impossible to fake kindness like that

[c.youngjae]: let's meet up at three and talk

[jaybee]: i'll be there

[jaybee]: i won't be late.

Read at 11:07 AM ✓

His phone read 2:57 by the time he spotted Jaebum. He was standing right outside the promised cafe, scrolling through his own phone with his legs crossed. It surprised Youngjae to see that he was wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and an oversized sweater, contrary to his usual attire of trendy clothes that showed off his nice build. He looked pretty hot, to be honest. Youngjae shook that thought out of his mind and approached Jaebum, acting as though he wasn't just staring at him a minute prior. "It isn't 3 yet," Youngjae said quietly, stuffing his hands into his hoodie. "I've been here for ten minutes. I just didn't want to be late," Jaebum replied with a tiny grin as if he wanted the younger's approval. Youngjae scoffed and went ahead into the building, ruining the other's plans of opening the door for him. They went up to the counter, both of them staring at the menu in a similar way. Both of their eyes twitched, cursing at Jackson mentally. "I'm glad Jinyoung decided not to come," Jaebum whispered to the other, faking a smile for the person behind the cash register. "Welcome to Cafe A, one of the first couples' cafe in this town," she smiled enthusiastically, probably a bit overwhelmed on the inside because she had two male customers coming together in her hands. Youngjae hid his face into a hand in embarrassment, and Jaebum wanted to die on the spot. "Would you like to order our monthly special 'love potions?'" she asked, pointing to the piece of paper on the counter. "No," Youngjae and Jaebum said simultaneously. Flustered because of how rude that sounded, Jaebum laughed sheepishly and shook his head. "I'll just have an iced Americano. And, Youngjae..." Youngjae squinted at the menu above them, saying, "I'll have some water." Jaebum's face abruptly switched to one of shock, nudging the younger gently with his elbow. 'Eat,' he mouthed. Youngjae grumbled, feeling like he was just scolded by his mother. "Nevermind. I'll have a melon smoothie." "Alright. that will be ₩6,500." His hand reached into his pocket to grab his wallet, but the taller Jaebum stopped him before he could go any further. Instead, he took out his own wallet and paid using a card. Youngjae squinted his eyes at the other. I bet he just wanted to show off. Stupid seniors. "Thank you. Please come to pick up your order once this starts to buzz," she said while handing over the circular device to Youngjae, who almost dropped it.To the surprise of both, she leaned forward and gestured for them to come closer. "The third floor is popular with... couples like you two," she whispered with a grin. Both boys shook their heads, trying to insist that they weren't that sort of couple. She didn't listen, only grinning happily. 'You guys are so cute!' she mouthed while making a thumbs up, leaving the two speechless as they searched for a table. "Maybe we should go to the third floor," Youngjae was heard mumbling. "But we're not a couple, unfortunately," Jaebum remarked, putting emphasis on the last word to express that he really did think it was unfortunate. "I mean, I'd be more than happy if we were, but-" "The people here are staring at us." Youngjae gestured with a subtle tilt of his chin, completely ignoring what the other had to say. It was true, though; quite a few of the other couples enjoying their food seemed to be whispering at the two. Jaebum scoffed and marched towards the staircase, Youngjae following quickly to avoid any more odd gazed from anyone there. As promised by the girl at the cash register, the third floor was filled with... ...gay. Youngjae's eyes couldn't ignore the variety(?) of couples that were there, enjoying their time together. At one table in the corner, there was someone resembling a llama sitting across from someone who appeared like a girl. He couldn't tell, that person just had long hair. At the opposite side of the room, he spotted a couple that consisted of someone narrow-eyed with bright mint hair, nodding at his partner, who had a radiant smile, while he ranted. At another table they passed by were two people who didn't stand out in particular except that they seemed to be speaking completely in Chinese. Beside their table were two rather young looking guys, the foreign-looking one teaching his partner how to say simple words in English. "I don't think there are any open tables, hyung..." Youngjae remarked with a pout after searching around the room. Jaebum nodded, thinking that they might end up having to sit outside or something. Just then, someone tapped his arm. he turned around to see two rather tall guys sitting at the table nearby, one of them looking highly emo. "Are you looking for a table? Ae can just move our stuff, there's space for you guys," the person who tapped his arm offered, his canine teeth showing as he smiled. "Oh, sure. Thank you." Once the other guys moved their belongings, Youngjae took the seat that was on the cushiony couch and Jaebum sat on the chair. "Are you guys from JYP high?" the person asked, sipping on his ice coffee. Jaebum nodded, leaning back while putting an arm over the chair in an assertive way. "We're from Pledis," he replied, making Jaebum go “Ooh.” No wonder they were wearing nice clothes and looked as though they had their hair done professionally. Although Pledis was a small school, it was a costly place to attend and its students sure did prove that. "God, I would've screamed if you guys were from SM." Almost everyone in the room quieted down when hearing that name as though it was a taboo. SM's school had the roughest teachers and classes by far, and its roughness most likely rubbed off on its students. The device Youngjae held flashed red lights out of nowhere and started buzzing, startling him. Jaebum took it from his hand and headed downstairs in order to grab their drinks. Once he was gone, the high-key emo person who hadn't said a thing leaned over to Youngjae. "Your boyfriend's hot," he said quietly. Youngjae's face flashed a bright pink. "He's not my boyfriend! I'm not dating him," he argued and pouted again. "Really? I think he likes you from the way he looks at you, though," the person sitting across said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. "What's his name?" "Im Jaebum." Someone dropped their fork in the distance as the person almost choked on his straw. "That's... him? He's Im Jaebum?" he asked, clearly as confused as Youngjae was. someone a few tables next to them whispered, “Holy shit, that was Im Jaebum?” "Yes?" Youngjae tilted his head, not understanding what all the fuss was about. "Goodness," he sighed while shaking his head. "He's a literal legend at Pledis." Youngjae's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean by that?" "How do you, his boyfriend, not know about this?" he fanned himself with his hand, accidentally hitting himself in the face. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat. "Anyway, the Pledis legend. Im Jaebum. He used to go to Pledis for his freshman year, I think. But somehow, he ended up becoming the school's first ever student to be full on expelled." Youngjae's mouth dropped when hearing this. He wasn't even sure if his best friends Jinyoung or Jackson knew about this. "One of the biggest idol companies—you know, the ones with idol groups and all that—scouted him during his freshman year, right on our campus. The story about that flew all over school and he became a living legend. Everyone wanted to his friend." "How come you didn't recognize him earlier if he's that well known?" Youngjae asked in a dazed tone, not quite able to wrap his head around all the information he just absorbed. "Are you kidding me? He used to be one of the shortest guys in the class. He had mushroom hair and wore huge glasses every day." "Okay..." Youngjae peered over to the staircase to see if was Jaebum was back or not. He wanted to hear more of the details, wishing he wouldn't be back for another five minutes. "Well, why was he expelled?" "There was this group of seniors that made fun of him a lot, and I guess he was just fed up with him," he explained with a shrug, shaking around his cup. "What did he do?" "He poisoned them." That was the point where Youngjae didn't believe the story anymore. "No, that's stupid—" "He baked them a nice batch of cookies that made them vomit the next day. They told the principal on him," the boy paused in order to snap his fingers, "and just like that, he was gone." Youngjae was speechless, only his eyes blinking as the rest of his body was frozen. He was so confused, mostly because he couldn't believe that someone who seemed genuinely kind like the 'Def Soul' person he knew would do such thing. At the staircase, he could see a glimpse of Jaebum walking up with two cups in his hands. "Are you afraid that he'll do something like that again?" the person asked. "If you are, I don't think you should be. I can tell his attitude has changed a lot since freshman year, and he's probably trying to get a fresh start." Jaebum sat back down in his seat across from the still shocked Youngjae. He waved his hand in front of him, wondering if he was even alive. "Yah, Im Jaebum!" the person smacked his arm out of nowhere. “What—ah, shit," Jaebum cursed under his breath once he realized that that person currently attended pledis, the place of his unforgettable past. "I can't believe it's actually you. hey, i'm mingyu. remember me?" Jaebum's eyes widened as though he was reminded of something unpleasant, but he played it cool and sighed. "Yes, yes, I do. What do you want?" The one sitting across from mingyu tapped his watch, indicating something about time. He nodded his head and hurriedly threw on his jacket, grabbing his things. "Sorry, I would talk more but there's something I have to do." Before he left the table, he leaned down towards Jaebum's ear and whispered softly.

“Don't break that cutie's heart, okay?”