#in this case sunday work exhaustion + pms. and i was right that sunday exhaustion wears off by end of the week

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

I feel GOOD in my BODY guys this is astounding

[merrybloomwrites]

You Can Start a Family (Extra: Sickfic Part 1)

Summary: Y/N gets sick and Mitch, Sarah, and Harry take turns doting on her.

Previous Chapters: One ; Two ; Three ; Four ; Five ; Six ; Seven ; Eight ; Nine ; Ten

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Grabbing extra blankets, you bundle deep under the covers of your otherwise empty bed. You hope that your cats will join you soon so you’re not completely alone.

It’s not like you have other people in bed with you every single night. Since you started dating Mitch and Sarah earlier in the year, and added Harry to the relationship three months prior, you’ve spent a decent amount of time alone. One might think that wouldn’t be the case with two boyfriends and a girlfriend, but they’re busy people.

Harry has been writing his next album, traveling twice for writing retreats with his collaborators to minimize distractions. On top of that he’s had meetings, photoshoots, and other projects that require him to be away from you for days at a time.

Meanwhile, Mitch’s album had dropped just a couple weeks prior, and he and Sarah were busy promoting that.

All in all, you were very used to sleeping alone. But for some reason you were really missing them tonight. They had all been home for just three days before they had to fly out to Los Angeles to prepare and rehearse for Harryween.

It had been a somewhat last-minute decision to actually do Harryween this year, since tour had ended a few months before. But the venue was open and most of the band was available, and they knew tickets would sell out immediately, so they decided to pull the trigger and go for it.

That meant that they needed to fit in all of the prep work the week right before Halloween, leaving you alone at home for days. They had left Sunday morning, and since it’s now Tuesday, it’s your third night without them.

You only need to make it until Thursday, and Mitch will be back for a couple of meetings, and then you’ll fly to LA with him for the two shows at the start of the following week.

Knowing that it’s only two more lonesome nights would normally help you, but for some reason you just feel so alone tonight. The bed feels too big and empty and cold. You are cold, freezing, bone deep cold. It isn’t even that chilly out, a mild fall evening.

It’s early to get in bed, not even 9 PM, but you feel exhausted. You wish you could just call them, but you know with the 3-hour time difference that they’re definitely still rehearsing, probably not even taking their dinner break for another hour.

You settle for playing their music, your go to when you just need to hear their voices to feel them close to you. It doesn’t take long before you fall asleep.

The blaring alarm wakes you the next morning, and even though you slept over nine hours, you’re still tired. You go to say good morning to the cats who joined you at some point in the night, and your voice comes out groggy. You clear your throat which only leads to a coughing fit. It doesn’t last long, and you’re fine while you get ready for work, so you figure it was probably just a tickle and not a big deal.

Wednesday is the same as Tuesday, most of your days truly blending together. You take a bath after dinner, hoping it will help the new aches in your joints that bothered you all afternoon, and you nearly fall asleep in the water. If it weren’t for your phone ringing, you definitely would have been out cold within a minute.

You dry your hands and grab the phone, checking who it is before answering.

“Hello,” you say, and notice your voice once again sounds a little rough.

“Hi love,” Sarah replies. “I’ve only got a minute, but I wanted to check in. I miss you.���

“I miss you too.”

“What are you up to?”

“Decided to relax tonight, currently taking a bath.”

“Is that so? Wish we could facetime,” Sarah says cheekily.

You laugh at how forward she can sometimes be and reply, “Get your mind out of the gutter Jones!”

“I know, I just wish I could see my beautiful girl.” You blush at these words as she continues, “How are you? You sound a little hoarse.”

“Yea, I’m okay. Not sure why I sound like this. It happened this morning and just came back. Maybe it’s allergies, the ragweed is pretty bad this time of year.”

“Okay, well just let me know if you get worse. Maybe do a covid test to be safe?”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll do one in the morning before Mitch comes home. Last thing I want is to spread something to you guys before the shows next week.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she reassures. “But always good to check.”

You’re about to ask how she and the others are doing, see if she could put Harry and Mitch on the call for a minute but before you can ask, she says, “Oh, I’ve got to go, we’re starting again. There’s a new transition that we’re struggling with a bit, so we’ve got to work on that more.”

“You guys will get it, you’re the most talented band out there.”

“Thank you, my love. Sleep well tonight, let me know how you’re feeling in the morning.”

“I will keep you posted. I love you.”

“I love you too. Good night.”

“Good night,” you say, and the call is ended.

You sit for a moment, your apartment feeling extra quiet again. It takes all of your energy to get out of the tub and finish getting ready for bed. It’s difficult to adjust to the cool air after the hot bath, and you quickly burrow into the pile of blankets you left on the bed, sighing in relief at the warmth they offer. Like the previous night you play music and immediately fall asleep.

The alarm is even louder than usual the next morning, and it hurts to open your eyes. You go to sit up and realize that everything in your body hurts. You take a deep breath to collect yourself, but that has the opposite effect. The second you breathe in you begin to cough, and it feels like minutes pass before you get it under control.

Forcing yourself out of bed you remember the conversation with Sarah the previous night and decide the first thing to do is take a covid test. You do that and as you wait the 15 minutes for the result you make a cup of tea and get dressed. You’re not sure yet if you’re going to call out sick. As a nanny to a toddler, the last thing you want to do is go to work sick and pass it on to the child. You choose to wait for the test results before deciding.

The timer goes off and you see that it’s negative. You call Beth, the mom you work for, and fill her in, letting her decide if she’s comfortable with you being around her son that day.

After telling her your symptoms she says, “I’m okay with you being around Ryan, but if you’re not feeling well, you should stay home. Take a sick day and rest. I know it’s exhausting taking care of a toddler when you’re not under the weather, and much worse when you are.”

“I’m really not that bad,” you reply. It’s not a complete lie, you already feel slightly better than when you first got up. You had taken a pain reliever and it was helping your achy joints, plus you had only had one more minor coughing fit. You assure Beth that you’re well enough to work and that you’ll see her soon.

She fusses over you slightly when you get to her house, mothering you a bit to make sure you’re not worse than you say you are.

“Call me if you need anything. I can get a substitute or Michael can work from home and watch Ryan.”

“I will, I promise,” you say, locking the door behind her as she leaves.

You feel fine all morning, nothing more than a slight cough. Ryan takes an excellent nap halfway through the day, and you make the mistake of laying on the couch during it. The baby monitor is right next to you, ensuring that you’ll hear Ryan when he wakes up, and the white noise coming through the monitor lulls you into a light sleep.

Beth has told you before that it’s okay if you rest while he’s napping but you normally never do. Today though, you can’t fight it and your eyes slip shut.

After nearly three hours Ryan’s babbling wakes you up. It’s immediately obvious that your short nap was a bad idea, and you feel awful as you get off of the couch. Checking the time, you note that Beth will be home in two hours and tell yourself you can push through to the end of the day, maybe with a little help from Bluey.

You’re relieved when Beth walks through the door, having gotten worse throughout the afternoon. She again dotes on you as only a mother can and tells you to take off the next day. You try to protest, since you’re already planning to be out for days the following week to travel to LA, but she won’t hear it.

“I will see you next Thursday. Not tomorrow. Rest. Get better so you can enjoy your boyfriend’s show.”

You smile and thank her before driving home. The second you enter your apartment you take off your shoes and climb into your bed. You don’t realize that you’ve fallen asleep until you jerk awake hearing the door open. You’re confused, and worried that someone is breaking in, but a moment later you hear Mitch calling out your name.

You try to shout out to him and let him know where you are, but as soon as you open your mouth you begin to cough. It’s even worse than the fit you’d had in the morning and Mitch rushes into the room, immediately rubbing your back to soothe you.

Finally, you start to catch your breath and you turn, curling into Mitch’s embrace as he wraps his arms around you.

 “What’s wrong baby? Sarah said you didn’t sound great last night but this is worse than I expected.”

“It wasn’t this bad yesterday. It wasn’t even this bad when I got home earlier. I feel like shit.”

“What do you need?” he asks.

“I don’t know. This is helping though,” you say referring to him holding you. He squeezes you tighter for a moment and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

For a few minutes you stay like this until another coughing fit wracks your body. Mitch again rubs your back, his touch calming you even as you struggle to breathe. When you’re done coughing, he shifts so he can get off of the bed.

“Don’t leave, please,” you say, grabbing on to him.

“I just want to check if you have any medicine, I’ll be right back.”

“Please,” you say, refusing to let go if his arm. Deep down you know that you’re being clingy, but you can’t bring yourself to care in that moment.

“Okay, c’mere,” he says and gestures for you to wrap your limbs around him. Once you’re secure he carries you with him to the bathroom and places you down on the closed toilet lid. He opens the closet door and takes out the box of different medications you have in there.

“Have you taken anything yet?” he asks.

“I took some Tylenol earlier today, but it’s been a while.”

“Nothing for the cough?”

“No, it really wasn’t that bad before.”

“Okay, here, take this,” he says, handing you the small cup filled with cough syrup. You do as you’re told and he takes out the thermometer, holding it up to your head.

It beeps a moment later and he says, “Definitely a low-grade fever. How are you feeling?”

“I’ve had the chills, and I guess body aches.”

“Alright, you said it’s been a while since you had Tylenol?”

“Yea, I only took it this morning.”

“Here’s another dose, it’ll help with everything else.”

You take the medicine as instructed, too tired to even think and grateful that you have someone there to tell you what you need to do.

“Have you eaten today?” Mitch asks.

“Yea, I had a sandwich for lunch,” you answer.

“But no dinner?”

You shake your head no.

“Okay,” he replies. “I’m going to heat up some soup for us. Do you want to wait in bed or come with me?”

“With you,” you reply, holding out your arms so he’ll carry you again. He smiles at how adorable sick you is, and he picks you up with ease, loving having you in his arms.

He places you on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island and you rest your head on your arms as he gets food ready. Normally you’d be asking him how his flight was, how rehearsals had been going all week, but instead you just rest your eyes, comforted by the sounds of another person in the apartment with you for the first time in days.

A few minutes later Mitch places a bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of you. He sits on the stool next to yours with his own bowl and puts a sleeve of crackers between you two. You lift your head up and thank him before starting to eat. You’re feeling a little better now that the medicine has had time to work, and you’re able to finish your dinner.

As soon as you and Mitch are both done eating you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Bedtime?” he asks, and you nod your head yes.

He cleans up the dishes and the two of you head to the bathroom to get ready. You lean against Mitch as you brush your teeth, too tired to stand on your own. He keeps a firm arm around you, making sure you don’t fall, and leads you into the bedroom.

Once you’re both in bed you immediately move to lay on top of him, needing to be as close as possible.

“Is this okay?” you ask, and he replies, “Of course, baby. I’ve missed my human blanket.”

You smile and melt into the embrace, his arms wrapped around you, making you feel safer and more content than you have in days. It doesn’t take long before you once again fall into a deep sleep.

Mitch, however, stays awake for some time after you. It’s still fairly early, especially since he’s on west coast time. Once he’s sure you’re asleep he pulls out his phone, careful not to disturb you with his movement.

He sends a text in his group chat with Sarah and Harry, telling them about how sick you are. It’s obvious how worried they are in their replies and Mitch assures them that he plans to take you to the doctor in the morning if you’re not feeling better.

The moment he wakes up the next day he can tell something is wrong. He feels like he’s in an oven and he immediately realizes the heat is coming off of your body as you lay sprawled on him. Carefully he reaches over to the side table and picks up the thermometer to see what your temperature is.

He grimaces as it beeps loudly in the quiet room, but you remain asleep. He checks what it says and grows more worried. While yesterday you had a mild fever, it’s much higher now. Just as he puts the thermometer back down you suddenly wake up coughing.

Mitch helps you sit upright so you can breathe easier, and after it passes he hands you a glass of water, encouraging you to take small sips.

Your whole body is aching, and a violent shiver shoots through you.

“Baby, I think you should get checked by someone today, okay?”

You want to refuse, saying it’s not that bad, but you don’t have the energy to fight so you simply nod to agree.

The start of the morning is hazy. You and Mitch shower together so he can help you and make sure you don’t slip in your weakened state. You get dressed and throw your damp hair up into a bun and join Mitch in the kitchen for breakfast. A shower and food have done you some good, and you’re feeling more alert. You make an appointment with a doctor, happy to see an opening in just an hour.

Mitch insists on cancelling his morning meeting to go with you, but you tell him you’ll be fine. He concedes by just pushing it back a little bit so that he can drive you to your appointment.

As he drops you off he tells you for the hundredth time to text him with updates and let him know when you need to be picked up, reassuring you that he can leave his meeting if he needs to.

“I’ll be okay Mitch. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself. I have for a while now.”

“I know you can, I just- we all just like to take care of you.”

“And I love that about the three of you. But I will be fine. Now go, I need to check in.” He grabs your hand for a moment and squeezes tightly before letting you go.

You go into the office and the woman at the front desk hands you the typical forms to fill out. After handing those back you wait for a little while, happy that you thought to bring a book. Focusing on that helps you not focus on how crappy you’re feeling.

Once in with the doctor you tell her your symptoms and she does her normal physical assessment.

“Well, there are a number of things this could be. We’ll test for covid, flu, strep. But, we’ve had a number of cases of fungal pneumonia recently, so I want to check you for that as well. Seems there could be something nearby that’s causing these infections.”

With that she sends you off to the lab next door where they do a number of tests, including a chest x-ray to know for sure what’s going on. You text Mitch to fill him in while you wait for the results.

You get called back into your doctor and she informs you that you do in fact have fungal pneumonia.

“I’m going to prescribe you itraconazole, an anti-fungal drug. You can continue taking cough medicine and acetaminophen to treat the symptoms of the infection.”

You nod to show you’re listening and ask, “Is it contagious?”

“No, fungal pneumonia is not contagious. To get it you need to come in contact directly with the spores. Did you visit the wetlands recently?”

“The one’s over near Creek Road?”

“Yes.”

“Yea, I went there Sunday afternoon. Why?”

“Most of the patients I’ve recently diagnosed with this have been there. There must be something on one of the trails that’s infecting people.”

You continue to nod, finding this mildly interesting. If you weren’t sick you’d probably find it fascinating, but you’re too tired to think about it too deeply. She asks about your hike, writing down the specific areas that you walked to send over to the rangers at the Wetlands so they can determine where the danger is.

“I’ve sent your prescription to the pharmacy you listed; it should be ready soon.”

“Thank you,” you say, and she leads you out of the room.

You sit in the waiting room and text Mitch that you’re done, and he tells you he’s outside, his meeting having finished a half hour prior.

The drive home is quiet, with a stop at the pharmacy to pick up your prescription. When you get back to the apartment you head straight for your bedroom, exhausted from the morning’s activities. Mitch joins you a few mimutes later, bringing lunch and your medicine with him.

He Facetimes Sarah as finish your food, and she and Harry answer. They ask how you’re feeling, and you shrug, too tired to come up with a full response. You take the medicine that Mitch gives you, and you fall asleep while they’re still on the phone, comforted by the sounds of their voices.

They stay on the call expressing their concern and Mitch assures them that he’s taking care of you. A few minutes later they hang up, and Mitch carefully cleans up lunch. He’s about to lay down next to you again when you wake up.

“Hey, how are you doing?” He asks.

“The same I guess. Don’t you have another meeting to be at?”

“Yea it’s in a little while, but I can cancel and stay home with you.”

“Mitch, really, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes I’m sure! Go, you’ve got important stuff to do.”

“You’re important,” he replies.

You nearly respond sarcastically but instead you find yourself blushing at his words. He leans down to kiss you, and you’re very grateful that you’re not contagious and can still do this when sick. It’s the first kiss you’ve shared with him since Sunday, and it feels like home.

He pulls away, pressing a kiss to your head and gets ready for his meeting. He checks in with you again before leaving and you reassure that you have everything you need and plan to stay in bed watching movies the whole time he’s gone. He walks out of the room and comes back a minute later, one of your cats under each of his arms. Mitch places them on the bed with you, gives you a final kiss and a “love you” and leaves the apartment.

Mitch is gone for a movie and a half, walking in partway through the 2nd live action Scooby Doo.

He sees what you’re watching and looks almost guilty.

“What?” you ask after seeing his expression.

“I was on the phone with Sarah and Harry while I drove home. They’re concerned about you traveling when you’re not feeling well.”

Your first instinct is to immediately reply that they’re being ridiculous, that you’ll be fine. But instead, you say, “We have 2 full days until the flight to LA. Let’s just play it by ear and decide on Sunday, okay?”

“Okay, that’s fair,” he replies.

“And even if I’m not better by then I could always just fly out Tuesday. You guys will look silly without your Daphne!”

“I still can’t believe you convinced us all to have Scooby Doo as the costumes for Harryween.”

“I can’t believe you chose to be Scrappy Doo.”

“Well Pauli already claimed Scooby. What was I supposed to do?”

“Pick a normal villain from the show, like everyone else?”

“But I wanted to be a dog for Halloween!” he practically whines as he plops in the bed next to you.

You smile fondly, loving when you got to see this side of him. You weave your fingers through his hair and you’re both quiet for the rest of the movie.

Mitch dotes on you for the rest of the weekend, insisting that you do nothing other than rest and get better. He prepares food, brings you your medicine, and carries you with him whenever you’re feeling particularly clingy.

While you hate being sick, you love the excuse to slow down for a few days. Everything is always so hectic for the four of you, and a weekend of nothing but cuddles on the couch with comfort movies and shows in the background is nearly perfect. It would be completely perfect if Sarah and Harry were also there. And if you didn’t still feel like crap.

You slowly got better, and by Sunday morning you were confident that the anti-fungal medicine was working, and you were officially on the mend. It took a lot of convincing the others, but by Sunday afternoon you and Mitch were seated next to each other flying back to Los Angeles.

It’s late when you land, and you go directly to Harry’s place. He and Sarah are waiting outside and rush to the car to help with your bags. The boys bring the luggage inside and Sarah wraps an arm around your waist and walks with you.

You spend the first few minutes there telling everyone repeatedly that you’re fine, just a bit tired. And you’re telling the truth. Your fever is gone, the chills and body aches going with it, and you have only a mild cough. Even if you hadn’t been sick the last couple days you’d be tired after traveling coast to coast.

That night you sleep in between Harry and Sarah, Mitch on Sarah’s other side knowing the other two needed to feel you close to them.

You wake up in the middle of the night, knowing you’re about to have another coughing fit, and try to sneak out of bed so you don’t wake anyone. Unfortunately, Sarah is wrapped around you so tightly that you can’t escape. You start to cough, turning into the pillow to try and muffle the sound but the others wake up anyway.

They all fuss over you, Sarah rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you. Finally, you stop coughing, but you keep your face pressed into the pillow. You don’t want them to see the tears in your eyes, knowing how much more worried they’ll be if they see that. You can’t help it though, between the breathlessness and the chest pain the coughing brings, your eyes have no choice but to water.

You try to calm yourself with some deep breaths, but that just causes you to start coughing again. This time you turn into Sarah, needing the comfort her hold brings you.

“Sorry,” you eventually say. “I didn’t mean to wake everyone up.”

“Are you okay, love?” Harry asks. “That didn’t sound good at all.”

“I’m okay, my lungs are just a bit irritated.”

“Are you in any pain?” He questions. You know he’s very familiar with lung issues, having dealt with asthma in the past, and you know that he’ll be able to tell if you’re lying.

“My chest hurts a bit, but it’s really not that bad.”

He gives you a look, like he doesn’t believe you, so you hold his hand and say, “I promise, it’s not that bad. It’s already getting better.”

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you to him. You straddle his lap, tucking your face into his neck. You melt into his embrace, loving the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around you. Even though you still feel sick, being surrounded by the three people you love fills you with warmth.

Somehow you fall asleep still sitting up with Harry holding you. When you wake up the next morning you’re still in that position. Harry is asleep beneath you, leaning back against the headboard.

The last thing you want is to wake him again, especially since there’s a show tonight. You open your eyes and see Mitch and Sarah are also sleeping, wrapped in each other’s arms. It’s a perfect start to the day, and you note that you feel much better than the last few days.

It’s not much later that everyone begins to stir. It’s already mid-morning but there’s enough time before they need to be at the venue, so no one is in any rush to get up. Sarah does demand that you switch to her lap, saying that everyone else has gotten more cuddles with you and it’s her turn. You go willingly; something about her soft embrace that comforts you immensely.

Eventually you do all get up to eat and shower before going together to the Forum. You stay backstage and get ready while they do soundcheck, wanting the set list to remain a surprise until the show. You love the group costume that was chosen for night 1, everyone dressing as their own version of Barbie or Ken, you included.

When the others get backstage they compliment you on your look and you smile bashfully at the attention. It’s a bit chaotic with everyone getting ready and having a quick dinner. Finally, you say good bye to the others, give Harry a kiss, and head to the floor to watch the show.

You don’t go out yet, knowing that the fans will notice you once you do, and you don’t want to give away the costume theme. As soon as the show officially begins you walk to the fenced off section for friends and family in the back of the pit.

You’re still not feeling 100%, and the lights and loud music are a bit disorienting, but you don’t let that show. This is your first time attending Harry’s concert as his official girlfriend, and you know that people are going to be watching you, judging you.

Even though you’re still a bit under the weather, you have a great time at the concert. You’re so happy that the set list was a surprise, and you know a fan nearby got your reaction to the start of Canyon Moon, one of your favorites that you hadn’t heard live before.

As always, harry puts on a perfect show. You love watching the fans and checking out all of their costumes. He does the whale to close out the concert and your face hurts from smiling so much. You feel exhausted, and look forward to getting home, but it was worth pushing through.

To no one’s surprise you fall asleep on Harry’s shoulder during the drive home. Sarah and Mitch are in a different car, since you had run out with Harry the second the show ended. You wake up at home, laying on the bed while Harry is taking your shoes off.

“Hi, lovey,” he says as you sit up, your legs dangling off the end of the bed with Harry standing between them. You reach your arms up, placing your hands on his face and gently pulling so he knows to lean down. As soon as he’s close enough you press your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

“Hi baby,” you say once you break the kiss. “You did great tonight.”

“Yea? Liked the show?”

“Loved it. Always do.”

He smiles at that, dimples popping out on each cheek. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good. Sleepy, but otherwise I feel fine.”

“That’s a relief,” he replies. “Hated seeing you sick. Hated knowing you were sick, and I couldn’t be there to make you feel better.”

“Well, I feel much better now. All healed up.”

He flashes his dazzling smile again, and you pull him in for another kiss.

“Let’s get ready for bed,” he says as he breaks the kiss a minute later.

The two of you are halfway through your nighttime routines when Mitch and Sarah get home. Before long the four of you are cuddled in bed, Harry quietly humming something that sounds oddly similar to “I’m Just Ken.”

The four of you go out the next morning since you want to see a bit of the city. They each choose a couple of their favorite spots to show you before you all need to get to the venue. You again get yourself ready as they do another quick soundcheck, one of the stylist’s helping you with the red wig you’ll need as Daphne.

Once Harry is in his Fred costume the two of you take some pictures together. Night 2 is the same as Night 1, except you’re a bit more worn out from walking through the city all morning. As much as you insist to the others that you’re not sick anymore, that’s not completely true. Your head is pounding by the end, and you feel slightly dizzy. On more than one occasion you feel like your heart is beating out of your chest, it’s racing so fast.

You do everything to keep a smile on your face and not show how you’re feeling. For the first time ever, you feel relieved when the show is over. You enjoyed it of course, but you can’t wait to lay down, which will hopefully stop the world from spinning.

You’re quiet on the drive home, but still able to hide your symptoms from Harry. Once home you get ready for bed, falling asleep before Mitch and Sarah even get back.

The next morning is slightly chaotic as the four of you need to be at the airport fairly early. It’s not until you’re all seated on the private plane that they pick up on the fact that you’re kind of out of it. You claim to just be tired, but you know that they don’t buy it and are all watching you closely.

You’re seated next to Sarah and fall asleep on her shoulder shortly into the flight. When you start to wake up a couple hours later you shift, tucking your face into her neck. Mitch catches Sarahs concerned face, asking, “What’s wrong?”

“She feels warm,” Sarah answers. She places her hand on the back of your neck, noting how hot your skin has become. The boys are both immediately worried, each reaching over to feel for themselves.

You lift your head up and give them all a look, silently asking why they’re all touching you.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asks. “Be honest with us, please.”

You take a moment to assess before answering, “Kind of dizzy. And cold. And sore.”

“Anything else, love?” Sarah says.

“Maybe a bit nauseous? But not that bad, really.” Despite your insistence that you weren’t going to throw up, Mitch gets up to grab an airsick bag just in case.

“How long until we land?” he asks as he sits back down across from you.

“About an hour,” Harry answers before he turns to you and asks if you need anything.

“I’m fine,” you reply. “Can you just, uhm. Can you maybe sing?”

“Of course I can love. Any requests?”

You shake your head, tucking back into Sarah’s side. Harry begins to sing, and you take deep breaths, trying to keep any nausea and dizziness at bay.

It’s a difficult hour, and a rough landing has you nearly reaching for the airsick bag but you’re able to hold it back.

You all get home mid-afternoon, and you immediately start to unpack. You know that if you don’t you’ll just leave the suitcase for days. When you’re done you head back to the living room where you find Harry sitting on the couch.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Ordering dinner. Don’t think anyone is up for cooking tonight.”

You sit next to him, putting a random show on TV for background noise. You grab a blanket, wrapping yourself in it to fight off the chills. You lean against Harry who wraps an arm around you.  Mitch and Sarah join you two and you guys finish ordering food and sit together quietly while you wait for it to be delivered.

Once it’s there you all move to the kitchen table. You don’t have much of an appetite but try to eat some of your dinner. The others notice that you don’t eat much, but they don’t push it, knowing that your stomach is still bothering you.

Everyone changes into comfy clothes after dinner, and you head back to the living room couch. You’re in between Harry and Sarah, Mitch trailing behind in the bathroom for a minute. You wonder what’s holding him up but understand when he walks out with your medicine box.

He takes your temperature, frowning when he sees you once again have a high fever. You take the medicine he hands you before curling into Sarah’s side. Her hand slides through your hair and rubs your back, and you focus on those comforting touches.

You all watch a movie before deciding it’s time to head to bed. You stand from the couch, taking a moment to steady yourself as a wave of dizziness washes over you.

Your heart is beating incredibly fast again, and you’re having trouble catching your breath. The others stand around you, asking questions that you can’t hear over the pounding of your heartbeat.

You meet Harry’s eyes for a moment before everything goes dark and you collapse into his arms.

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

@akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @theekyliepage @numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry @ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess @houseofdilfs @shaquille-0atmeal-1 @kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye @n0vaj3an

AN: Thank you again for reading this story! There will be a part 2 to this!

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 81

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Sunday, April 17th; 2:30 PM - Porto Beach.

“So, how’s it going with your in-laws?”

I’m gazing at the horizon when Alexia's question drops. We decided to have a relaxing day for this first day of vacation in Porto. Jenni is exhausted from the work at the gym, and she wanted us to start off slowly... Well, as slowly as we can, I guess. Alexia and I are soaking up the sun on our towels, while Lucy and Jenni have decided to play a game of volleyball not far from us. It’s hot today for an autumn day, so it’s the perfect opportunity. The beach isn’t crowded, but the sun has brought out a few people anyway. I get it. It’s nice to enjoy this unexpected warmth.

“Well... I had a strange conversation with my mother-in-law this morning.”

“Really? Was it at least in a good way?”

“Oh yes, yes. She straight up told me, ‘Welcome to the family, Ona,’” I mimic in a deeper voice.

Alexia bursts out laughing and props herself up on her elbows. She looks at me through her sunglasses.

“Oh wow, that’s classic. Honestly, you didn’t land the best mother-in-law... Jenni’s parents are lovely compared to her.”

“They seemed pretty nice last night, that’s true. Is it going well with them?”

“Totally, yeah. They’re adorable to me. According to them, I’m her longest relationship... I didn’t know how to take that.”

“I can imagine.”

I laugh before we lapse into a silence. I gaze at the sky where a few clouds are floating, but not enough to cover the sun. It’s strong today. I had to put on sunscreen just in case. With my fair skin, I burn quickly.

“You look like something’s bothering you.”

I sigh and turn my head in her direction. Unlike me, O seems to tan easily. I’m a bit jealous of that. I wish it would happen to me too.

“I think Lucy is hiding something from me.”

She furrows her brow.

“Go on. Why do you think that?”

“She made some vague comments last week, and she’s been acting weird since we got here.”

“Really? I don’t find her behavior different.”

“She’s tense, and I don’t know. I can tell something is bothering her.”

“And do you think there’s a particular reason?”

“I think she went through something here that she’s trying to hide... Or maybe forget. I don’t really know. She barely talked to me about her life here.”

“You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

“It’s a gut feeling. Maybe I’m wrong.”

“Well, ask her.”

“It’s more complicated than that. I don’t want to push her, you know. I feel like she thinks whatever she reveals will change everything between us.”

“That’s silly.”

“Yeah... I know, right?”

I groan and lie down on my stomach. I’m trying to alternate so I get some color on both sides. My friend quickly follows my lead, sighing at the same time.

“I don’t know what to say. Maybe there’s nothing at all. It’s just a feeling, after all.”

“Hmm.”

I’d like to believe that’s the case too. Unfortunately, I don’t think it is.

“And what about you? How did it go between Jenni and Alba? And the party we missed? Was it good?”

She laughs and nods her head. I rest my head on my arms, making sure I can still keep my eyes on her.

“Surprisingly, everything went well. Maybe our big fight wasn’t for nothing. Alba was calm.”

“That’s great!”

“Oh yes, totally. It was a bit tense during their first meeting at the party. Jenni wasn’t comfortable at all at first. Not only did she have to face Alba, but it was also the first time she saw all her students again as my girlfriend, you know?”

“It’s hard to picture her feeling uncomfortable, though.”

I tease, but Lucy reacts the same way. It must be strange for them.

“She was, I swear,” she teases back. “It was funny to see.”

“I bet. Anyway, I’m glad everything’s going well for you. So, how did it go?”

“My sister was cool. She was also a bit tense, but everything went well. They shook hands and, as the evening went on, they started talking.”

“Like, big sister talk?”

“No, no. Alba was genuinely interested in her. Like, she wanted to get to know the person I’m with, you know?”

“Wow. Cool. And our friends? How did they react when they saw Jenni?”

“Shocked,” she laughs. “They didn’t understand anything until they connected it with the school story. No one saw it coming.”

“I can imagine. And last week? Did you all stay together as planned? I think that’s what Alba wanted.”

“Yes. Misa and her helped us out with the gym. I think Alba appreciated that she had such an ambitious project. Plus, it seems like playing tough girl bonds them together. They even managed to laugh together.”

I giggle, burying my head in my arms.

“Well, that’s good then... Everything’s finally falling into place.”

“Yeah. We’ve made so much progress, you and Lucy are going to be surprised. Some furniture is already in place now. It’s totally different from when you left. Oh, and, you were right about one thing. Misa isn’t so bad after all.”

I laugh heartily. She finally understood. Her week must have been interesting. I almost regret not being there.

“I know,” I replied.

I have to admit I’m quite surprised after Alba’s outburst when he overreacted. He managed to reassess himself before the meeting. That’s good. Things are getting back to normal. It was about time.

“But still, something was missing.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

“You and Lucy, of course! I can’t wait for school to be over so she can finally spend time with them. You two were really missed at the party.”

“There are only three weeks left now. We’ll manage to hold out for what’s left.”

“Definitely.”

“Just three more weeks...”

I sigh and close my eyes, burying my head between my arms again. All’s well that ends well, finally. I feel reassured. I can go back to relaxing. However, this peace doesn’t last long. After just a few minutes of tranquility, a wet body comes to lie against mine. I gasp at the coldness it brings. When I open my eyes, I spot some brown strands mingling with my blonde hair. I have nothing to worry about when her lips come to kiss my neck.

“You’re wet,” I mumble, making my girlfriend laugh.

“Sorry, I wanted to cool off before hiding your body.”

“Hiding it, huh?” I giggle.

“Well, yes. A group of guys has been watching you a little too closely for a while now.”

“Oh really? Then it’s better to chase them away,” I tease.

“Exactly. Make some room for me.”

“You really can’t just take your towel, can you?”

I grumble, but I still move to the side to let her lie under me. I half-drop onto her with a sigh of contentment. Actually, no. It’s more comfortable this way. Lucy giggles as she wraps her arms around me.

“No, I can’t. You’re starting to get sunburned, though. Are you sure you’re from Portugal?” she laughs.

“Put some more sunscreen on me instead of teasing.”

“Anything for my princess.”

She wiggles around to grab it from our bag above our heads. Once she gets it, she spreads some in her hands before rubbing it on my back. I enjoy her little caresses as she applies the lotion.

“Thanks,” I murmur.

“It’s my pleasure.”

“So, guys, what are we doing tonight?” Ale asks.

“It’s already planned,” Jenni announces.

“Oh yeah? And what is it?” she asks curiously.

- "Well, that’s up to Lucy to ask."

- "Oh, so you’re doing things behind my back now?"

- "Nonsense. I had the idea, and Jenni approved it this morning," she defends herself.

- "And what’s this idea?"

- "Well... I thought of you. I remembered that you like football matches, and there happens to be one tonight."

- "A football match?" Alexia comments. "What a great idea! It’s been ages since I’ve seen one! Did you get the tickets?"

- "Yes, this morning..."

I smile at Lucy, who's been watching me the whole time. I can tell she’s gauging my reaction. The last time I went to a stadium was with my father.

- "That’s a great idea," I tell her.

I kiss her to accompany my words, and I can feel her relax immediately. Her arms tighten around me, and I rest my head against her chest. I smile at Alexia, who has a small smirk.

- "Well, you two look even closer than before... It was already hard to top that, but now..."

I chuckle softly, snuggling against Lucy. She’s right. I think we’ve reached a point in our relationship where there’s no turning back. If a breakup ever happened, it would be devastating.

- "Hmm... You’re right."

- "What did you do in Lisbon last week?"

- "Not much," Lucy replies. "Lots of rest, hikes, and evenings at the beach."

- "Hmm, hmm..."

Her smile grows, and I roll my eyes with a small laugh. I have a feeling she’s going to grill me when we’re alone.

- "Hey, there’s an ice cream vendor passing by. Do you want one?" Lucy offers.

It seems like I’m not the only one trying to dodge the conversation, which makes me laugh again.

- "Good idea, I’ll go with you."

- "Yeah, go ahead, run away instead of telling us what’s changed so much between you two!"

We laugh heartily at Alexia's playful shout as we walk away. I kiss Lucy, who holds me tightly with her arm around my shoulders.

- "I love you," she whispers to me while I’m still giggling.

Sunday, April 17; 9:45 PM - Stadium.

Everyone is shouting around us, Alexia being the loudest. The atmosphere is wild. I don’t remember it being this intense. Lucy had a great idea, and I’m so glad we’re here right now. She’s the best girlfriend. I never thought she’d remember such a small detail I’d told her a long time ago. It’s just a league match, but the fans are giving their all for their team.

- "I can’t believe it! How did she miss such an easy chance!?"

- "I didn’t know she liked football this much," I whisper to my girlfriend.

She laughs, watching my friend who’s now standing, fuming. She’s one of those people who hate when the home team is losing by just one goal.

- "Me neither."

- "Pff! Unbelievable," Alexia says as she sits back down beside me.

- "Sweetheart, maybe you should calm down a bit," Jenni tries to soothe her.

I can’t hold in my laughter anymore, and neither can Lucy. This scene is just too funny. It seems I’m also witnessing a very uncomfortable Jenni.

- "But seriously! Even I could do better than them!" she says, crossing her arms.

- "Oh, really?" I tease.

- "Hey, don’t laugh. I played football for a long time in high school. The only issue was that we kept changing schools."

She crosses her arms and continues sulking.

- "Oh, I didn’t mean to upset you," I giggle. "I didn’t know you played football."

- "Well, now you know. But seriously, this amateur team can’t even equalize," she continues with exaggerated gestures.

This time I burst out laughing. She’s clearly making our night.

- "We really need to think of bringing her along every time we go to a match," I say to Lucy.

- "Oh no, please don’t," Jenni begs from her other side.

The poor girl’s going to have to endure this for a while longer. Halftime eventually arrives. Lucy and Jenni had left a bit earlier to grab something to eat since we hadn’t stopped anywhere before. Alexia has finally calmed down, though she’s clearly upset that her team hasn’t managed to close the gap.

- "So, are you finally going to tell me what’s up with you and Lucy?" she asks.

- "Tell you what?"

- "Don’t play innocent," she says with a mischievous grin. "Something’s different, I can feel it."

- "There’s nothing special, I assure you," I giggle. "I think being away from school has been good for us."

- "Did you tell her about Feli? You know... what she doesn’t know yet."

- "Briefly, yes. She had a feeling, but she cut me off. I think she doesn’t want to know, and that’s fine with me."

- "So, Mapi was wrong in the end."

I chuckle and nod.

- "She doesn’t need to know. Otherwise, she’d be upset."

- "Mum’s the word, I promise," she says with a wink.

I smile sincerely at her. There are perks to being close to two friends at once. If I can’t tell one something, I can tell the other.

- "The important thing is that you were able to let it out. I’ve never seen you so relaxed. You’re at peace."

- "She’s made me feel at peace," I reply.

- "Have you been able to enjoy her company?" she asks, raising her eyebrows suggestively, making me laugh.

- "Stop," I say, blushing.

- "What? You’re not going to get shy about this now, are you?"

- "And what about you and Jenni?"

- "Oh no, no, no. This isn’t about us. Your situation is more complicated."

I roll my eyes. Well, she’s not wrong, but she doesn’t need to remind me. To make her think otherwise, I respond:

- "Well, actually, this trip has been very... fruitful. We’ve enjoyed ourselves... especially in the evenings."

- "Really?" she says, surprised.

- "Oh yes. Lucy is a goddess," I admit, blushing again as I think back to our nights together.

She laughs loudly.

- "Wow... She must have really put you in some kind of state for you to blush like that."

- "Stop, it’s not funny."

- "It’s crazy, though."

- "What is?"

- "Well, a few months ago, she hated me for getting her best friend kicked out. Now she’s dating a student, and we’re even spending time together at her place. I seriously never saw that coming."

- "I believe you."

- "I’m so glad you came to the school. It’s the best thing that could have happened to me. Not only do I have a best friend now, but you’ve completely changed my circle. Everything could have been so different without you."

I smile sincerely at her. I totally understand what she means.

- "I know exactly what you mean. If I hadn’t come here, I’d probably still be in my room, feeling sorry for myself. Or who knows, maybe I’d have left home again to go back to drugs."

- "Don’t say that. I don’t think you would’ve sunk that low."

- "You’re wrong. I think I would have. I had nothing to hold on to before. Now I have Lucy, Mapi, you, and everyone else. And let’s not even talk about my future. I never would have worked in the arts without Lucy."

- "As they say, ‘if’ changes the world. We were lucky that only good things came our way. Not everyone gets that."

- "That’s true," I sigh. "In the end, the school has every reason to exist. It really does work miracles."

Alexia laughs, nodding in agreement. Unlike me, she’s believed in this from the start, but I’m only realizing it now. It’s a good thing it exists. When you're surrounded by good people, everything changes. You lose that hatred for the world. You only see the good. That’s how I feel right now.

- "Do you already know if you’re going to meet Lucy’s family? Jenni told me they all live nearby and that she’s close to them. She thinks you’ll be meeting them soon."

- "Are you reading their minds or something?"

- "Why do you say that?" she teases.

- "When we got back from the beach to change before meeting you, her parents told us they’re organizing a big barbecue. They want me to meet everyone."

- "Really? That’s cool."

- "Yeah... I hope you’ll be invited. That way, you can support me."

- "Oh, I don’t think you need to worry."

- "You just said she’s close to them. What if they don’t like me? What do I do?"

- "Well, nothing at all," she giggles. "Lucy loves you. She’s not going to leave you over that."

- "Hmm..."

"Don’t make that face. I’m sure they’re going to love you. »

- We’ll see.

- You managed to win over her mother in just one day. I think you’ll be able to handle the rest of her family, right?

- Yeah… You’re probably right.

To be honest, her mother is quite something. Even Alexia noticed it after just one meal with her.

- Anyway, all that matters is that Lucy loves you. She’ll never let them bring you down. She doesn’t let anyone do that.

I sigh softly. Now that I think about it, she’s right. Lucy always takes my side, as long as I’m doing the right thing.

- Is she just as nervous about meeting your family? Because she’s going with you to your mother’s wedding, right?

- Yes, but I don’t think so. She hasn’t mentioned it. On the other hand, she’s more anxious about meeting my friends. Well, she already knows them, but you know… being the “commander” and all, she’s not exactly at ease.

- That’s strange, I think… I’ve been thinking since you talked to me this afternoon.

- About what?

- Well, you know, about that feeling you have regarding Lucy.

- And?

- Well, we’re in their hometown, right? What did you do the first time you went home during your first leave?

- Uh…

I frown, trying to remember. I’m not sure where she’s going with this, but I’ll play along.

- I spent time with Mapi, and we went out the next night.

- Exactly. They lived here until at least high school. Don’t you find it odd that Lucy or even Jenni never talk about their friends here? Of course, they have friends in Manchester, but they should have some here too, right?

The thought strikes me. Indeed, Lucy has never mentioned her friends. There’s Jenni, of course, but that’s it. Otherwise, she only talks about her family.

- Hasn’t Jenni ever talked to you about it either? I asked her.

- Well, no, but I’d never thought about it before. Only after what you said this afternoon.

I nod.

- It is strange, indeed...

- I’ll help you investigate if you want, but for now, we’d better change the subject. They’re coming back.

- Thanks, but it won’t be necessary. I’m sure Lucy will talk to me about it when she feels the need.

I turn to see them climbing the stairs. When they reach us, we stand up to let Jenni sit next to her girlfriend. I sit back down at the same time as Lucy, taking my drink and hot dog from her.

- Thank you, that’s sweet.

I give her a kiss, which she accepts with a smile I can feel against my lips. I appreciate that we still show affection for little things. It really expresses our feelings.

- You’re welcome.

- We almost got caught, comments Jenni. There were already a lot of people.

- It’s fine, the second half hasn’t started yet.

- Well, just barely, I point out to them.

The players are returning to the field. It’s crazy how everyone’s eyes are glued to their seats.

- Cool! Finally.

- Please, babe. Try to calm down. Our neighbors are going to lose their patience at this rate.

It’s true that we’ve had several disapproving looks between Alexia’s shouts and our laughter.

- Hmm… Anyway, I’m hungry, she says, taking a bite of her hot dog.

We eat ours while watching the second half. Alexia seems to have taken the hint because she remains much calmer during this time. Maybe it’s because the team managed to equalize as soon as they came back. It’s past eleven when the match finally ends. Everyone is in high spirits, singing along after the team’s victory. Alexia is in total euphoria.

- They fought like tigers! It was amazing.

- So, there’s no stopping her, I tease softly.

- At least she brings good vibes.

I snuggle closer to Lucy, who keeps me close against her. A huge crowd has formed to exit the stadium. It’s a good way to avoid getting lost on our way out.

- We could still go for a drink, my friend suggests.

- Oh, it’s almost midnight, her girlfriend points out. We’re all exhausted.

She looks at us for support. She really seems drained. After all, she’s been working non-stop to get the gym ready to open on time. It must be something, considering she still works another job to cover her rent.

- Well… Why not? Lucy responds. Our car is downtown anyway. Unless you’re too tired, Jenni.

- You’re abandoning me now? I thought we were supposed to stick together!

My girlfriend chuckles softly.

- Sorry, but I thought it was a good idea.

- Come on, babe, Ale pleads. You’re not going to be a party pooper, are you? Even Lucy said yes!

She sighs, running a hand over her head.

- We won’t stay long, I assure her.

- Fine, she mutters. Let’s go then. But I really don’t want to stay out late. I won’t be able to keep up all week otherwise.

- You’re amazing! I promise we won’t stay long!

She leads the way, almost skipping. Lucy laughs at Jenni’s exasperated look.

- Really, Lucy? What’s gotten into you?

- Oh come on, relax. It’s just a beer. You’ll have time to sleep tomorrow morning.

- Hmm. You’ll pay for this.

I smile as I watch them closely. I know they’re close, but I think I’m starting to understand why now… I just don’t know the reasons yet. I hope Lucy will tell me soon, otherwise I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist investigating, and I doubt she’ll appreciate that.

[rotationalsymmetry]

For me — a kid in the “honors” classes at a magnet high school — 1 and 2 weren’t at all a problem, it was all 3. But 3 was bad.

it wasn’t just that there was a lot of homework. It’s that there was literally more work than I was capable of doing. There would often be more homework assigned on Monday and due on Tuesday than I could actually do in 24 hours, if I wanted to eat and sleep. And there would be the same amount assigned Tuesday and due Wednesday. And homework where we had a few days to do it on top of that. And long term projects like reports that we were somehow expected to do on top of that. There were no field trips. Field trips would mean cutting into the class time of a different class, and teachers were jealous of their time. Everyone acted like they were the only ones assigning homework. I had an English teacher who told us that when he assigned us a short story, we were supposed to read the story, read it again, go on a walk and think about it, and read it again. I have no idea what he was high on, but frequently I couldn’t find time to read the stories once.

I was so organized over the two week long winter break in my junior year of high school. I had a schedule drawn up, broke down my homework for each class into chunks with deadlines so I would know if I was on track. I gave myself no weekend days off, only Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and New Year’s Day and gave myself a three day buffer at the end. (After being exhausted like I had never been exhausted in my life the last week of classes.) I gave myself regular breaks, gave myself meals and time to shower, and I might have stopped work for the day as early as 9 pm, probably the equivalent of twelve hour days. I ended up working through my buffer, and even so there were a bunch of history flash cards that I meant to get done that I didn’t get to. And then classes started again.

At one point my uncle, who was either in or had recently graduated from a PhD program, suggested I take one day off a week. That sounded completely unworkable, so I ignored him, but I did give myself one full hour of free time before bed every day, and I did give myself all of Friday afternoon and evening after class.

(it is…also the case that pretty often my parents would invite me to do something recreational over the weekend, and I’d say yes without thinking about it too hard. For whatever reason some part of me figured carving out time from studying because I wanted to was unacceptable, but family time was allowed. And I did at least have variety in what I was doing for school: it wasn’t just book learning, there was also music and sports practice.)

I checked out a book from the library called Yoga for Busy People. My mother said something dismissive about the idea that I was “busy”.

As an adult, and someone who approves of labor rights, I think people deserve a standard 8 hour workday, a standard 40 hour work day, two days a week off, and frequent holidays or vacation time. I did, strictly speaking, get a great deal of vacation time. I sure as fuck wasn’t working 40 hours a week. I was working (does some mental math) yeah, about 12 hour days Monday-Thursday, 8 hours Fridays, and maybe another 8 hours each Saturday and Sunday? (That’s a guess. I don’t really know. I didn’t track my time. It could well have been 12 hour days on the weekend some of the time too.) So … about 72 hour workweeks? And feeling absolutely miserable because I still wasn’t getting it all done and nobody once suggested to me that might be anything other than a personal failure to work hard enough?

That sounds insane writing it all out like that.

And it could have been worse. I did actually remember stuff well, so I didn’t really have to study on top of assigned work. I didn’t have any responsibility for chores, which is not generally the case for working adults. The commute was not long and was probably necessary decompression time, as I was not able to do schoolwork while I was in transit. And there was some time when I was supposed to be doing schoolwork but was lost in daydreams, but I’m not sure that should matter because nobody is 100% effective during extended workdays. It’s normal for people at office jobs to not actually be working every minute that they’re supposedly at work, even aside from official breaks.

But that was only half of the nightmare. The other half was: I was sort of under the impression that school was supposed to prepare you for the adult world, especially the working world. I figured since I did well in school, that would transfer over to having an easy time getting work. And then I decided I didn’t want to go to college (and I mean, seventy two hour work weeks, of course I didn’t want to sign up for more of that) and I thought this “getting a job” thing would be pretty easy, I mean everyone can get a job, even people who did terribly in school, right?

it turns out the skillset for getting hired, when you have no credentials beyond a high school degree, is very different from the skillset for getting good grades in school. And I was terrible at getting hired. And, at least for retail (and canvassing, don’t get me started on canvassing), terrible at staying hired, because customer service means interacting with people, which I am bad at. And people don’t really like training people they’ve just hired for their shitty minimum wage customer service job, so you also have to figure out what you’re supposed to do without being explicitly told, and figure it out fast, which I am spectacularly terrible at. So I went from working my ass off for no pay but at least getting some sort of symbolic/status reward for it, to failing at things that I hadn’t realized it was possible for someone who was genuinely trying to fail at. It was not a comfortable experience for my ego.

And I still. Have not. Figured out. How to organize my time and reliably consistently get done the things I think I should get done. Without immanent deadline pressure or someone else who is going to be disappointed if I don’t get the thing done. Because the way I learned to get things done was to respond to deadline pressure and fear of facing the disapproval of others. I am 40 years old.

I think a lot of the skepticism and derision toward the idea of "gifted kid burnout" stems from the fact that a lot of folks have no idea what the gifted track in most high schools actually looks like; they've got this mental image, possibly informed by popular media depictions, of "gifted kids" as a privileged group of students who get to go on extra field trips, monopolise the teachers' attention in class, and constantly be told how special they are, but who are otherwise treated identically to all the other kids.

In practice, the gifted track in most high schools – most North American high schools, at any rate – has the same problem as any other educational program: the need to adhere to published metrics. These programs exist for the benefit of students only insofar as those benefits can empirically be measured, which leads to several common outcomes:

Students on the gifted track being afforded fewer choices regarding elective classes – often to the extent of having no choices at all – in order to stream the highest-performing students into the subjects that are most valuable in terms of boosting institutional metrics.

Students on the gifted tracking receiving restricted access to educational resources such as tutoring because it's perceived as a waste of funding. In many cases, gifted students are not only denied access to tutoring, but expected to serve as volunteer tutors and teaching assistants themselves, effectively becoming a source of unpaid educational labour for the schools they attend.

Students on the gifted track being assigned considerably more homework, often literally doubling their workload in an environment where homework loads are already routinely high enough that kids have difficulty finding time to eat and sleep, simply because you get more measurable academic performance data that way.

The upshot is that the gifted track is often less about fun perks and constant praise, and more about receiving less freedom, fewer resources, and heavier workloads than one's peers, getting strong-armed into providing unpaid labour to the school on top of it, and constantly being told one should be grateful for it – and that's without touching on the fact that the unspoken secondary purpose of many gifted programs is to serve as a quarantine for all the neurodivergent kids the school couldn't find an excuse to institutionalise or expel.

Like, shit, there's a reason kids on the gifted track exhibit elevated rates of alcoholism and substance abuse compared to general student populations. That doesn't arise in a vacuum!

(To be clear, I'm not saying that people graduating from high school and immediately having an existential crisis upon realising they're not special after all isn't a thing that happens, but in my experience that's more usually something that happens to the kids who were on the football team, and reframing it as a nerd culture thing is really weird.)

[prodshima]

11:44 PM — SUNA RINTARO

you peer intensely at the hanging round object in front of you, the ticking of the clock echoing around the room as the hour hand hits quarter to twelve

“it’s almost midnight, why isn’t he home yet? you sigh, yawning as you lay down on the couch and turn on the television, hoping it’ll be enough to keep you awake until he gets back home from work

but your eyes soon betrays you and your plan as it closes shut, your whole body falling into a deep slumber, the last thing your eyes could make up was the clock hitting twelve

suna is beyond exhausted— the traffic was shit, his car broke down in the middle of the road, he almost got fired for arriving late, AND his boss gave him overtime for that

a heavy sigh escapes his lips before opening the door, he hastily removes his coat, hooking it behind the door and kicking off his shoes using his other foot

he heads towards the bedroom with a content smile, he’s been looking forward to cuddling you after a busy day, but a frown soons replaces it when he finds the bed empty, he droops, missing your warmth, but the small pout quickly tugs upward when he hears soft snores coming from the living room

he tiptoes his way to the living room through the cased doorway and leans down on the couch where your sleeping figure was, he stares at you with tired but loving eyes while removing the loose strands of hair in front of your face, you unconsciously snuggle deeper onto him when he cradles your face in between his palms

“s’ illegal to be this cute” he thinks

he seems to have noticed the uncomfortable position you were in so he grabs both of your arms, wraps it around his neck and put his right arm under the back of your knees and the other around your waist, he carries you upstairs to the bedroom with little to no effort despite how restless he feels

after putting you down on the bed, he enters the bathroom and took a warm bath to wake him up

grabbing off a towel from the cabinet, he carefully opens the bathroom door, hoping it won’t make a sound, it didn’t but you were awake already when he was still showeringv he gives you an apologetic smile, thinking it was the sound of the shower that woke you up

“sorry, princess, did i wake you up?” he asks, drying off his hair with the towel

“mmh no rin i was already awake when you went inside the bathroom”

“let’s go to sleep, yeah? it’s already one in the morning” he hangs his towel on the towel rail and crawls beside you on the bed, draping an arm over your waist

“i missed you rin” you mumble, your head buried on his chest and your hands grabbing the hem of pajamas

“i missed you too baby” he speaks yet his eyes were shut closed already “it’s sunday tomorrow do you wanna go somewhere or..?”

“mmh don’ have time to think, m’ sleepy”

“i told you not to wait for me but you’re just so stubborn, huh” he teases, hands slowly finding it’s comfort on your tummy

“you love me though”

“unfortunately”

“rin!”

© all works belong to @prodshima — do not plagiarize, copy, modify, or claim my works as your own

[siren-dragon]

After Eight -- The Cat Returns fanfic:

So... I had a Ghibli movie marathon recently and remembered my old childhood OTP of Haru and the Baron. Then I read a few fanfics by @catsafarithewriter and landed in another fandom abyss, lol. And that later spawned this au one-shot from a prompt I read. Anyway, this is my first time publishing anything for another fandom so hopefully it’s good. Enjoy! ^_^

AO3 story link

Human AU -- “I need to finish my term paper and you’re the only 24-hour internet cafe open. Help me.”

===========================================================

The front door of their small flat closed with a soft click as Haru shrugged her backpack higher onto her shoulder and soon hurried down the corridor and out onto the streets with a determined step. To be fair, Hiromi and Tsuge did try their best to accommodate her as she stared helplessly at her computer screen within her bedroom while they giggled and chatted on the sofa. And though Haru managed to continue through her term paper despite the late hour; her concentration quickly began to wane while the tell-tale sounds of snogging managed to reach her ears despite the closed bedroom doors. So, she rather quickly decided to pack up her supplies and laptop, stuff them into her school bag, and exit the flat in an attempt to find somewhere quiet.

Of course, she didn’t really consider the fact that a) it was 10 in the evening on a Friday and b) she would need wifi if she were going to try and continue her paper.

“There has to be somewhere open…” she groaned, having passed another bar filled with her fellow college students enjoying the beginning of their weekend. “Why are there so many bars everywhere?!”

After traversing the streets for a good 20 minutes, all the while debating if she could chance stealing the wifi from a late-night McDonalds, the brunette soon found herself pausing to stare at the building her feet seemed to have led her to. It was a rather quaint building, reminiscent of European cafes with it’s white and green paint and black sunshade. Written beside the glass and wooden doors was a simple plaque with the words The Cat Bureau scrawled across in dark lettering. However, it was the petite sticker smacked boldly on the corner of one of the windows with a drawing of a cat on a laptop reading “free wifi” that nearly made Haru weep tears of joy.

“Oh, thank God; an internet café!” she beamed with delight before hurrying inside.

If she thought the outside was charming, the interior was spectacular. Alongside the windows were various tables with off-set white tablecloths and a small flower vase as a centerpiece, while opposite sat a wrap-around wooden bar complete with stools. The entire room was bathed in a warm, golden glow from the hanging antique light fixtures and Haru couldn’t help but be captured by the small café. “Wow, this place is beautiful…”

“You are too kind Miss,” an accented voice chimed, causing her to swivel to the source.

Standing behind the countertop was a man, perhaps a few years older than Haru herself, offering her a kind smile with a rag in hand. Though Haru was practically half-asleep due to exhaustion and the creeping energy withdrawals her last study-snack tried to prevent, even she couldn’t deny how attractive the man was. Slightly tousled tawny locks and vivid green eyes stared back at her with an intensity that caused her face to take a distinct pink tint. His attire was a bit formal, what with the crimson vest and collared shirt with a bowtie- though his black apron and rolled sleeves didn’t undercut the professional appearance.

“Erm, I’m sorry- were you closing soon? I can leave if you want. It’s just that I saw you had free wifi and I needed a space where I could finish my term paper…”

The man gave a gentle laugh, “no worries Miss, this is a 24-hour café; stay as long as you like. The Bureau doesn’t often receive customers on Friday evenings, what with many preferring venues that serve alcohol.”

Haru grinned, “you’re a life saver. And this place, I’ve never seen such an amazing café before.”

“Thank you, and please sit wherever you like. Make yourself at home. Is there anything you would perhaps like to order?”

Taking a spot at one of the tables near the window, Haru immediately glanced at the menu resting upon the table, looking over the pamphlet for something cheap that would keep her awake. She was rather impressed by the modest selection- ranging from teas and beverages to cakes, sandwiches, and even a few pastries. “I’ll just have a cup of the house blend tea, please.”

The man smiled, “as you wish.”

If the food wasn’t going to bring her back here, the charming waiter certainly was- though as quickly as the thought crossed her mind Haru prayed her internal feelings didn’t make themselves known with the reddening of her face.

Quickly pulling out her laptop and research materials, in an attempt to finish her work and not stare at the handsome waiter, Haru set to work on trying to finish her paper. The quiet atmosphere gave a rather calm and ideal setting, allowing the brunette student’s work to continue at a steady pace. On occasion Haru would steal a glance to the waiter as he set about making her order, humming a gentle tune under his breath before returning to her paper. It was only when the cup and teapot was set gently beside her did Haru startle from her concentration while another plate- this one bearing a slice of angel food cake with whip cream and strawberries found it’s place beside her tea cup.

“Oh! Um, but I didn’t order-“

“On the house,” the man smoothly replied. “Besides, nothing goes better with tea than some angel food cake.”

Haru giggled, saving her work before closing the laptop and setting it aside for the meanwhile. “Thank you very much.” Pour a dash of milk into the cup, she raised it for a tentative sip and blinked in surprise. “Woah, that’s got to be the best tea I’ve ever tasted.”

“You flatter me with your kind words, Miss.”

“Wait, did you make this from scratch?”

The waiter laughed, “indeed I did. That’s my own personal blend, though it tends to be a little different each time so I’m afraid I can’t guarantee the taste.”

“Well, it’s certainly better than the school’s local Starbucks.” Haru complimented, making the man grin. “Did you make the cake as well?”

“Unfortunately, no. While I am no stranger to the kitchen, that particular cake was made by our resident chef Muta. He has a penchant for sweets which has earned quite a following from the locals.”

“I don’t blame them, if the cakes are as good as the tea- I don’t think I’ll be able to go anywhere else.”

This time the man gave a teasing smirk, “and here I thought it was the free wifi drawing in customers.”

Haru laughed, “well, it certainly did help. I’d take a quiet café with wonderful tea over my small flat and a roommate making out with her boyfriend any day.”

“Well, that certainly would cause a bit of a distraction to a working student. If that’s the case, feel free to stay as long as you like Miss.”

“Haru,” she answered back. “My name, it’s Haru.”

He gave her a soft smile that made Haru’s stomach do nervous flips as bright green eyes met her own warm caramel irises. “Humbert von Gikkingen, at your service but please; call me Baron.”

Now it was Haru’s turn to give a small smirk. “So, Baron… this teapot looks like there is enough for another cup or two. Maybe, you would like to share it?”

This time it was Baron’s turn to flush the faintest pink before giving a rather delighted grin and retrieving another cup from behind the counter and taking the seat across from her. “I would be honored. After all, nothing makes a cup of tea better than sharing it with a rather fetching young woman.”

If Haru’s face wasn’t red before, it certainly was now- and judging from the slight mirth dancing in Baron’s eyes, the warmth of her face was easy to spot.

 =========================================================

“I didn’t even know we had a 24-hour internet café near the campus.” Hiromi commented in confusion, “must have been nice since you didn’t come back till after midnight.”

“Hey, I was giving you and Tsuge some space so I could work on my paper.”

Hiromi grinned, “uh huh, then why were you frantically typing this morning in an attempt to finish it? Maybe you got distracted on your little night excursion.”

“Yes, by tea and cake.” Haru answered dryly, trying to keep calm and prevent a tell-tale blush to creep up her face. “Trust me Hiromi, you’ll love the place.”

“Alright Haru, I- hey is this the place?”

The two girls stopped in front of the familiar white and green painted café, same black sunshade up though this time there were a few tables set up outside and a few more customers than the previous night. However, this time, a waitress with white-blonde hair and a pink ribbon around her neck was serving customers outside while inside a tall and thin black-haired man clad in the similar formal attire Baron wore yesterday tend to the waiting patrons. Yet she couldn’t hide the small frown at the lack of Baron’s presence, wondering if perhaps he only covered the evening shift.

It was then did she finally hear Hiromi’s laughter, when the chestnut-haired brunette pointed to a sign on the door. “Haru, you did read the sign before you went in this place last night, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

She merely silently pointed to the hours of operation, which clearly stated that the café was only open from 09:00 AM – 10:00 PM, with it opening later in the morning on Sundays. Haru felt her jaw drop slightly as her face turned cherry red while Hiromi merely laughed louder.

Of course, she did get a slight just desserts when the two friends were seated inside and Haru noticed Baron nearly fly out of the kitchen, hastily tying his black apron before catching her gaze. The black-haired waiter was whispering frantically to him while Baron looked to be offering some polite apology. Though when he caught Haru’s eye he couldn’t help the knowing smile on his face while Haru gave a rather sheepish look as he approached the table to take their order.

“Welcome back, Miss Haru. I hope your paper was a success.”

“Yeah, it really was…. Especially after the extra 2 ½ hours I worked on it last night.” She said with an embarrassed groan. “I am so sorry for butting into your café last night. If I knew you were closed I would have left and-“

“Think nothing of it, you needed somewhere to work and I was happy to help.” Baron replied with a kind, though slightly tired smile from the previous evenings unintentional long shift. “Perhaps… I could suggest another cup of our house blend in the name of bygones?”

Haru gave a shy smile, “yes please.”

“Make it two,” Hiromi added. “And whatever pastry you would recommend.”

“Certainly. I shall return momentarily, ladies.”

As Baron returned to the counter, Hiromi waited perhaps 2.1 seconds before whirling upon Haru with a large grin reminiscent of a satisfied shark. “Do you think he’ll write his number on the napkin for you to take home?”

While Haru didn’t make a point of causing scenes in public places, she couldn’t help flicking a sugar cubes at her friend’s laughing face. Though judging from the laughter dancing in Baron’s vibrant emerald eyes and the tint of pink dusting his cheeks, she wouldn’t be complaining if that was the case.

[moon-light-jukebox]

“All you have to do is ask” Chapter 5 - [Reid x Reader]

previous chapter // series index // next chapter 

Summary: The team has a case that takes them to Illinois. Our favorite boy wonder gets jealous and challenges Reader. So, she decides to show him who is really in charge.

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female Reader)

Word Count: 5.7k for Chapter 5

Content Warning: Here we go. The team has a case, so talk about m*rder, the usual criminal minds stuff. Jealousy. BDSM. Femdom. Degradation. Slapping. Spitting. Face sitting. Face fucking. Vaginal fingering. And I think that’s it.

A/n: In celebration of my 1 week of writing again, and all the lovely support I’ve gotten, I’m giving you chapter 5 a day early. Chapter 6 is still scheduled for Saturday. (Mostly because I haven’t written it all yet.) Chapter 5 is my favorite so far. I hope you love it as much as I do...because things only escalate in chapter 6. 😇 Some names on my tag list still aren’t working. I’m sorry! 

y/n = your name. y/l/n = your last name. italicized text are Reader’s thoughts.

-- Chapter 5: “Are you jealous, Doctor?” –

I don’t resent my job, I repeated mentally for the thousandth time. I don’t resent my job. I am not upset. I am happy to be here to help people in need. I didn't even sound very convincing in my own mind. I had known it was too good to be true. I finally had Dr. Reid right where I wanted him…when both of our phones chimed with the same text message. "Avengers, ASSEMBLE.” But it’s fine that we’re sitting on the jet at 10 pm headed to the Midwest. Keep telling yourself that, y/n. Serial killers were such cock blocks.

The ding from the computer on the small table signaled Garcia's digital arrival. "Hello, my loves!" Her sunshine personality would not be dampened by our sleepy grumbles. Or sexually frustrated grumbles, in my case; and from the way Dr. Reid kept sneaking glances at me, I suspected his too.

“What do we know so far?” Hotch asked, cutting right to business. If he was tired, he certainly didn't show it. I'm still not even sure if he's human.  

“The Illinois state police say that our 5th victim is named Sarah Gossman. She was a 32-year-old middle school teacher. Reported missing by her husband, Ralph, two days ago. Locals didn’t realize she was connected to the other victims until her body was found 2 hours ago.”

Hotch nodded, scanning the open file in front of him. “How were they able to connect them, Penelope?” David Rossi, the grandfather of the BAU questioned.

Garcia cringed. “They found the same wound on her shoulder blade. A square of her skin was missing.”

“It’s an interesting signature,” Spencer interjected. “The edges look jagged. Almost like the blade was serrated.”

“That’s what the M.E.’s thought too.”

“Babygirl, do they know if it’s the same knife that was used in the other murders?”

For a moment all that was heard was the clicking of her keys. “That is the suspicion, my beautiful chocolate sculpture of perfection.” I snorted at that one; every once in a while, their flirting quips got me. “They need the knife to be sure.”

"Thanks, Garcia," Hotch said before ending the video call. “Alright, if this unsub holds to pattern, he is going to take his next victim before 10 am tomorrow morning.”

“We might not be able to stop it,” Prentiss said. “But we can get her back. He keeps them for at least 36 hours.”

Hotch nodded. “Get some sleep if you can; it’s gonna be a long night.”

--

I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder; my fear evaporating when I turned and saw it was just JJ. “Hey,” she said softly. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I said with a yawn that I couldn’t muffle. “I just feel like I’m stuck in a swamp, you know?” She nodded. “How he’s choosing them will be how we find him. How we find her.”

True to pattern, the unsub took his next victim the following morning after the body of Sarah Gossman was found. Alicia Sheldon, 31, was reported missing by her mother just after 10 am this morning. We had no proof that she was with our unsub outside of the profile, but we all knew that the clock was ticking if we wanted to bring her home alive.  

JJ nodded, reading over my shoulder. “Narrowing down when can help too. Any luck?”

“Not really,” I sighed, closing my eyes. “I don’t think he does it at night, though. Garcia was able to see the activity for Alicia’s phone before she was taken. She replied to a text message at 4:45 am this morning.”

“Jesus Christ, that’s early.”

“What’s early?” Emily Prentiss asked as she walked into the conference room, Derek following after her.

“4:45 am is early,” I supplied. “Alicia replied to a text at that time.”

"Do we know if it was her?" That voice came from someone I hadn't laid eyes on yet. He must have followed Derek and Prentiss in. Dr. Reid was staring at me intently, his shirt wrinkled, glassed perched on the bridge of his nose. Even like this, he was so pretty it almost hurt to look at him. “Could the unsub have answered the text message to throw off suspicion?”

“I don’t think so, Doc.” I pointed at the evidence board where her most recent text messages and emails had been printed and tacked up. “Her text seemed personal. Not too much detail. It was sent to her best friend; unless the unsub was stalking her, there isn’t a way he would know that.”

Spencer nodded, walking around the table until he came to rest in front of the board. “Why would she be up so early…” His posture stiffened. What do you have, baby? What do you see? He turned and hit the phone that was in the center of the table.

“Speak and be heard.”

“Garcia, can we determine what time the last digital activity any of the women had was? We need to determine if they were all taken in the early morning hours.”

Morgan commented, “What are you thinking, Kid?”

Spencer didn’t answer, Garica spoke first. “Victim one and three are a no go; but victims 2 and 4 both had some digital dealings before 5 am the days they were reported missing, but they were all still at home according to the GPS on their phones.”

"Again, I say, Jesus, that's early."

I nodded at JJ. “Right. Who wakes up that early?”

“Someone with a strict routine,” Spencer said, his eyes never straying from the paper in front of him. “Garcia, did all of the victims have gym memberships?”

“Yeah, but to different gyms.”

Reid looked like he had just won the lottery. “What if all the women were on their way to the gym when he grabbed them? They all look athletic but have hectic schedules; it might be the only time they can fit it in. It’s still dark, but it’s technically morning. The women might feel safer. We didn't connect it right away because victims 2, 3, and 4 lived alone, no one knew their routines. He lies in wait and then grabs them, stuffing them into their own cars and driving off.” He was speaking rapidly at this point. “That could be why no one has found their cars yet. He has them.”

“Oh shit,” I muttered. “We need to see if the gyms have outside cameras.”

“Already on it, crimefighters.”

--

The unsub had left his car in parking lots adjacent to the gyms where the women were abducted for almost 2 days each time.

He thought he was smart; Spencer Reid was smarter.

“Hey,” a voice called from behind me. I turned to come face to face with a local deputy. He was a bit taller than me, stocky build, blonde hair that was cropped close to his scalp. “Good work out there today, Agent.”

“Thanks. You too, Deputy.” I turned, continuing to pack up my files. I was ready to go to the hotel and get some fucking sleep. Our jet was set to head out at 8 am the following morning. I’d gotten some sleep Saturday night; the team had gone back to the hotel in shifts while we continued searching for the unsub. But now it was Sunday afternoon and the exhaustion was starting to wear on me.

He cleared his throat, wanting my full attention again. “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go for a drink?” Oh no.

I smiled at him, trying to be polite. “Oh, thanks for the offer but I’m really tired and we fly out early tomorrow.”

Deputy Douche didn’t like that one bit. He stepped forward, placing a hand on my upper arm. “Well, it doesn’t have to be a drink,” his smirk made my lips want to curl up in a snarl. “I can meet you back at your hotel and we can break in that bed together.”

Oh gross. I jerked my arm out of his grip. “No, thanks.” I turned my back to him.

He looked miffed but had the sense to not make a grab for me again. I felt his fingers brush over the end of my hair as he leaned in. “Let me know if you change your mind,” he whispered. He slid a piece of paper on the desk before he turned and finally left me alone.

Gross. I threw the paper in the trash.

My attention was so focused on finishing up so I could escape before Deputy Douche came back that I didn’t notice Spencer watching me from across the precinct with a deep frown on his pretty face.

--

I was unbuttoning my shirt when I heard a firm knock on my hotel room door. “Come the fuck on,” I whined. Leaving the two buttons undone I went to the door, expecting to see Hotch, given how sharp that knock was. It wasn’t Hotch. It was my boy looking angrier than I’d ever seen him.

He shoved through the doorway, making his way into my room. Luckily, we all had separate rooms this time. “Well, come on in,” I muttered before I shut the door.

Spencer was fuming. “What the fuck was that?”

I blinked. “What the fuck was what?”

His hands balled into fists at his side. “At the police station. With that Deputy.”

Maybe it was how tired I was, but none of this was clicking. “Deputy Douche? You saw that?”

“Yeah, I fucking saw that,” he scoffed. “I saw him touching you. Flirting with you.”

“Right.” Right?

Wrong, apparently, because that did nothing to dampen his anger. “Why did you let him touch you?”

It clicked then, right at that exact moment I saw what was beneath his anger.  “Spencer…are you jealous?" I knew it wasn't the best idea to laugh but I really couldn't help it. The idea was so ludicrous to me. Morgan didn't call Spencer 'Pretty Boy' for no reason. On top of being one of the most brilliant people in the world, he was also the most gorgeous person I had ever seen. His bone structure alone was enough to make most women do a double-take. The thought that I would choose to spend my evening with the Deputy…over Dr. Spencer Reid? Yeah, no.

His cheeks burned pink, but he held his ground. “You said we were monogamous.”

Oh, hold up. I barked out a laugh. “No,” I corrected. “I said we could talk about monogamy in our dynamic if you wanted to continue." I felt my anger rise so quickly. "You have a fucking eidetic memory, baby. You know what I said.” Plus, I can’t control who flirts with me, dickbag, I thought, choosing not to say it out loud.

His anger matched mine. “I thought it was understood!”

“Nothing is understood until we talk about it, Doc.”

“Don’t call me that, not right now.”

Bad move, baby. “Oh, so you think you give the orders, Doc?” I made sure to put a lot of emphasis on the last letter in an attempt to rile him up further.

It worked because no sooner had the words left my mouth than his body slammed into mine. His mouth sealed over my lips in an angry kiss, his tongue demanding entry to my mouth, his hands tangled in my hair, holding me to him.

I was so lost for a moment; I hadn’t felt this in so long. For years my relationships were in perfect control, nothing unexpected. Who knew Dr. Reid would be the one that broke that pattern?

I hope you’re ready for this. My right hand grabbed the hair at the back of his head, tugging hard. His mouth broke away from mine with a yelp, but my left hand came up to hold his face, forcing his lips to pucker. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He looked scared for just a moment. Come on, baby. You can do it. Enlightenment washed over his face as he whimpered out, “I’m sorry.”

I tugged his hair again, only this time he moaned softly at the sensation. “You’re sorry what?”

“I-I’m sorry, Miss.” He licked his lips, looking more unsure than scared now.

Despite how fast my heart was beating, and how blown his pupils were, I couldn’t move forward until he understood. Spencer needed to understand the rules of a situation to feel comfortable. “We don’t have to do this, baby,” my voice was a whisper; somehow my serious tone didn’t manage to break the tension that hung around us.

“I want to,” his voice was hushed, urgent. “I trust you, y/n. And I feel so…I don’t know what this feeling is.”

I rubbed my thumb over his cheek, brushing over his bottom lip. “I know, sweet boy. I’ve got you.” I pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Green, yellow, and red,” I said knowing he’d understand what I meant. “There’s no shame here, pretty boy. I will not be upset with you if you need to use a safe word. It doesn’t mean our relationship ends, just this scene.” He nodded quickly. “I need your words, baby.”

“Yes Miss,” his voice was breathy, but his eyes were steady.

I smirked at him. “Good boy.” My hand tightened in his hair. “You’ll be a good boy for me, won’t you Dr. Reid?”

“Y-yes Miss.” I had guessed that the honorific would be a turn on for him, and judging by the whimper that followed his words, it looks like I was right.

“Take your clothes off and lay down in the center of the bed,” I released him, backing away to put as much space between us as I could. “Wait for me. You’re not allowed to touch yourself.” Honey brown eyes met mine, he wasn’t confused anymore. All that I saw reflecting in those eyes was desire.

I walked around him, never turning to look at him, and I headed into the bathroom. I finished taking off my shirt. I ran a brush through my hair. I did any tiny little task I could think of; I wanted him to wait.

The thing about BDSM dynamics that most people don’t understand is that no relationship is the same. The punishments that made one submissive tremble wouldn’t be effective on another. Anticipation would make Spencer squirm; I was sure of it. I had given Dr. Reid a lot of thought since our first conversation. I needed to understand what desires drove him if I was going to be able to bring him to the heights I wanted to.

Looking in the mirror, I puffed out a big breath. Truth be told, part of me being in the bathroom was to build anticipation for Spencer…but, part of it was because I was afraid. Even before tonight I had decided that my nervous boy deserved more than I gave the average sub. I cared about all my submissives to a point but, Dr. Spencer Reid was different. Maybe it’s because he had already held my life in his hands for almost a year; that made it easier…hell, it made it possible to trust him with this.

Squaring my shoulders, I turned and walked out of the bathroom. The main room was lit only by a lamp on the bedside table, covering our little world in a soft glow. I stalked slowly towards the bed, my eyes dragging up, up, up, until I saw him. He had followed my directions; I realized this was the first time I had ever seen him completely naked. He was beautiful, so beautiful. He wasn’t as scrawny as he looked to be with his clothes on. His body was covered in lean, toned muscles. He had no hair on his chest, giving him a slightly delicate appearance in my eyes; I wanted to mark that chest with scratches from my nails and bruises from my mouth. His cock laid against his thigh, half hard already. Like the good boy, I knew him to be, his arms were at his side, hands balled into tight fists.

I reached for the button of my pants, undoing them slowly, my eyes never left Spencer’s. Once my pants were off, leaving me in just my bra and panties, I placed a knee on the bed. I was careful not to touch him while I crawled up the bed to kneel beside him. Spencer's eyes bounced all over my body, his hands clenched and relaxing. My boy didn’t know what was to come and waiting for it was agonizing.

I reached out my hand to him, allowing my fingers to barely brush his arm. I trailed them up then down again and again. “Tell me why you came here tonight,” his eyes searched my face, still looking so vulnerable. “Why did you come to my door, Spencer?”

He licked his lips. “I-I was mad.”

My touch became firmer, a sort of reward for his honesty. I let my fingers wander up to his collarbone, over his chest. "Why were you mad, Dr. Reid?"

The whimper that slipped from his lips when I called him Dr. Reid was music to my ears. His hips were shifting on the bed, he was fully hard now.

“Because he touched you.”

I moved to swing my leg over his body, straddling his abdomen, careful not to touch his cock, not yet. “And why were you mad that he touched me?” I whispered.

“He can’t touch you,” his voice was breathy but firm. “You’re mine.”

Slap.

He looked startled when my open palm connected with his cheek. It wasn’t as hard as I wanted; I was still unsure. “No, Dr. Reid. I’m not yours. You are mine.” I leaned over him, my arms going to either side of his head to cage him in. “Do you understand?”

In the way that Spencer knew everything, he knew what I was really asking. His voice was no more than a whisper. “Green.”

I offered him a small smile. Then I lifted my hand to grab on to his face again. “I asked you if you understand, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer nodded quickly. “Yes Miss, I understand.”

I released his face before moving off the bed again. “You’ve been a very naughty boy, Spencer.” I gave him a frown as my hands reached behind my back to undo my bra, letting it slide down my arms. Spencer licked his lips, his fists becoming tighter. “I’m very disappointed in you, baby.”

“I-I’m sorry, Miss.” His voice was dry as he stumbled over his words.

"Are you, Dr. Reid?" I asked as my thumbs hooked into the waistband of my panties. "Are you really sorry?" Wiggling them down my hips, I let them drop to the floor before I stepped out of them.

“Yes. Yes, Miss. I’m so sorry.”

I crawled onto the bed, sitting back with my legs underneath me, letting my hands run up and down the skin of my thigh. “They’re pretty words, Dr. Reid, but I don’t know if I believe you.” I tilted my head to the side, bringing both my hands to my stomach, inching them up to my breasts. I let out a moan when I finally reach my destination, massaging my breasts, twisting my nipples while Spencer watched. I heard him whimper, causing a smile to tug at my lips. You’re doing so well, baby. I raised my body up so I was on my knees; I spread my thighs slightly, letting one of my hands drop to the apex of my thighs. Spencer watched so closely I’m not sure he even blinked when I dipped one finger inside the place that ached for him. I moved my finger in and out, biting my lip while I watched him.

After a moment I removed my finger, surprising him by bringing it to his mouth. “Open.” He obeyed instantly, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucked on my finger. “I wonder what else I could make you suck on.” I withdrew my finger from his mouth, bringing it back to my pussy. “How are you going to prove that you’re sorry, Dr. Reid? What are you going to do for me?”

His voice was filled with longing and hunger. “Anything, miss, I’ll do anything.”

I smirked, moving closer to him. Bracing my hands on either side of his body, I swung my leg over his torso, keeping on my knees so I didn’t touch him. Not yet. “Anything, huh?” He nodded quickly; his eyes fixed on my pussy.

I moved one hand to the headboard, the other moved to touch those beautiful curls of his, pulling hard enough to get another moan from him. “If you really want to apologize, Dr. Reid, maybe you can put that pretty little mouth of yours to better use?” I applied a tiny bit of pressure to his head.

He looked confused for a second, his eyes were wide in surprise like he couldn't believe what I was asking him to do. He probably can’t, I thought.

“What’s the matter, baby?” I teased. “Do you not want me to put my pussy on your face? You don’t want me to fuck your tongue?”

“No, no!” He whispered hurriedly. “I want that more than anything Miss.”

“Good boy.” I think he felt the significance of this moment too. “I’ll forgive you if you can make me cum before I get bored of you," I smirked down at him. “What do you think about that Dr. Reid? Can you make me cum all over your pretty little face?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Open your mouth.” I leaned over, putting my mouth closer to his, making it clear what I was going to do before I spit into his mouth. “Swallow it.” He swallowed obediently without any hesitation. Noted.

“Okay, Dr. Reid. I’ll take that apology now.”

He moved so fast. His hands hooked on the backs of my thighs, pulling me up his body while also pushing himself down the bed. My pussy was hovering over his mouth, he licked his lips, his fingers flexing on my thighs. He looked so desperate for me…but still so unsure. “Go ahead, baby,” I whisper, pulling on his hair hard enough to make him whimper.

With that, he gripped my hips and pulled me to his mouth. I felt his tongue move through my folds, gathering the wetness that pooled there. He moaned so loudly, pulling my hips down further, bringing my pussy closer to his face.

It had been so long since I’d felt this. I hadn’t let anyone touch me like this in years; it was so much better than I remembered, but that may have just been because it was Spencer doing it.

“Ugh,” I moan, starting to rock my hips. “Fuck, baby.” I pulled his hair, tugging hard enough that I knew it hurt. “I’m already getting bored, Dr. Reid, and you just started. You can do better than that.”

I wasn’t ready, not even a bit, for his lips locking around my clit. He flicked it with his tongue, then circled it, trying to find the method that made me groan and grind my pussy down on his mouth.

“That’s more like it, Dr. Reid,” I said, earning another moan from him. “I knew there had to be a better use for this smart mouth." My hips started rocking faster, his fingers were digging into my flesh. "What would the team say if they knew about what a dirty boy you are, Dr. Reid?" His tongue sped up, causing me to shudder. I bit my lip so hard I felt real pain. I didn’t want him to hear me moan; he hadn’t earned it yet. “What would they say if they heard Dr. Reid beg me to fuck his face? You’re always such a good boy, baby. But you’re not the good boy they think you are. You’re my good boy.”

My hips were moving more rapidly; Spencer hadn’t slowed his pace at all, almost like he could feel how close I was. What I had planned would be hard for me…but I knew it would be torture for him. After a few moments, when I felt my pussy spasm with the telltale signs of my impending orgasm, I gripped his hands and pulled them from me while I lifted my hips.

His mouth was red, wet, and his lips were swollen. His face morphed from one of bliss to one of confusion. “Wha-“

I moved away from him. “That was really the best you could do, Dr. Reid?” He bit into his lip, he looked almost embarrassed as his eyes moving down to my pussy.

“Please, Miss,” he begged. “Please let me finish. You taste so good. You were so close, I felt it.”

I chuckled, “Oh you felt it, huh?” I reached between my thighs, gathering some of my wetness, then moved that same hand to grip Spencer’s cock. At that first touch he let out a strangled sound that was almost a scream; my poor boy is so sensitive. I gave him a few pumps before I removed my hand.

“Miss, please.”

“You didn’t make me cum, Dr. Reid,” I said sweetly. “What makes you think you’ve earned my touch?” I moved my fingers back to my clit, rubbing slow circles, still so, so close. “Touch yourself.” He obeyed immediately, his eyes never leaving my fingers that were swirling around the place his mouth had just been. “I want you to touch yourself like you do when you’re at home in bed, Dr. Reid. Back when you still felt so guilty, but you just couldn’t help it…because I know you thought about me when you touched yourself long before Nebraska.”

His eyes shot up to meet mine; it was hard to tell if his flushed face got a little pinker in the dim light of the room. “You don’t need to deny it, baby.” My fingers started working faster. “I know. I’ve always known. So, I want you to touch yourself like you did back then. You can do that for me, right baby?”

Hand moving faster and faster now, he gave me another beautiful whimper, “yes Miss.”

“Good boy,” my finger’s slowed. “I said you could touch yourself. I never said you could cum. Stop, Spencer.” I could tell from his breathing that he was so close to the edge. “I said stop.” I reached out to grip his arm tightly, digging my nails into his skin.

Once he had released his cock, I took in his appearance. His stomach muscles kept tensing, his cock was leaking precum steadily now, his dick was an angry red, his teeth were digging into his bottom lip, and I could see the tears of frustration swimming in his eyes.

“Aw, baby,” I cooed, leaning over to put my body above his again; I caressed his cheek softly. “What’s wrong?”

"I-I" the chatterbox that was Dr. Spencer Reid was finally speechless.

I lifted my hand off of his face only to bring it back down in a sharp slap. “I asked you a question, Dr. Reid.”

I saw the desperation in his eyes. I know baby, I know. We’re almost there.

“Please, miss,” his words were so quiet. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m sorry. I’m yours.”

He deserved the world. This wonderful man deserved the entire world. “I believe you, Dr. Reid.” I leaned over him then, sealing my lips over his, my tongue stroking into his mouth softly. I felt his hands rise up towards my body only to stop just before they made contact.

He made my heart swell. I pulled my mouth away, looking down at him with an emotion I didn’t want to name shining from my eyes. “You’ve been such a good boy, baby.” I pushed the damp curls off of his forehead. “Such a good boy. I think you deserve something special.” I rose up on my knees, straddling his body again, my hand moving down to my pussy to spread myself open for his eyes. “What would you like more? Do you want me to put my pussy on your pretty face again? I’ll let you cum while you make me cum. I know how badly you need to taste me, Dr. Reid.” I bit my lip at how quickly he nodded his head. “Or, I can let you fuck my mouth. Hold onto my hair and fuck your pretty cock down my throat. Then I’ll let you watch me cum after.” I left a kiss on the tip of his nose.

Dr. Spencer Reid usually made decisions quickly; his mind worked so much quicker than everyone else, but he was struggling here. His eyes met mine, he looked so desperate and lost in a sea of his own desire.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, baby.” I moved down his body then, trailing kisses down his stomach. I gripped his cock hard in my hand, causing him to moan so loudly I’m sure someone in the neighboring rooms heard him. “Fuck my face, Dr. Reid. I want to watch you come undone.”

Needing no further encouragement, his hands tangled in my hair, tugging the strands so hard it made my eyes water. I opened my mouth over him; he lifted his hips going far deeper into my mouth than he would have done normally. I relaxed my jaw, swallowing around the head of his cock. My eyes were watering too much to watch him, but I heard him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, pulling my head down to meet his upward thrust. “You feel so fucking good, y/n. I’m gonna…” he let out a ragged breath. “I’m gonna cum.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he came apart. His groan was from deep in his chest and it sounded like my name as he filled my mouth. He slowed his thrusts, but I continued sucking. I needed him to feel every ounce of this.

When his hands finally dropped from my head, I released him. I wiped my eyes and I took him in. He looked so overwhelmed, shattered, and beautiful. I moved up the bed, lying beside him and wrapping him in my arms. I peppered his shoulder with kisses. “You did so good, Spencer,” I praised. “So, so good. I’m so proud of you.”

Spencer turned, his hands cupping my jaw while he stared so deep in my eyes. What I saw swirling on the surface of those amber eyes made my heart stop.

“You didn’t cum.” His voice was scratchy.

“I know. It’s okay,” I reassured. “We can take a break. Or you can watch me cum now.” I kept stroking his hair, his body. “Whatever you want, Spencer.”

My core was still throbbing, the sight of his release only pulling me closer to the edge.

His lips lifted in a smirk. “Whatever I want?” he teased.

“Yes.”

He blinked once, then again. He didn’t know quite what to do with my confirmation; but I meant it, in this moment, I was willing to give Spencer Reid anything and everything.

“…Can I make you cum?” he searched my eyes for any sign of hesitation. “I…I want to finish. What I was doing earlier.”

My laugh bubbled out of me. “I just had your cock down my throat but now you can’t ask me if you can make me cum on your face?”

I was still laughing when he leaned forward to kiss me; both of his hand cupping my jaw. There was heat behind this kiss; it brought my simmering arousal back to a giant flame in my lower belly. Heat wasn’t all that was there though. I can’t think about that. I couldn’t dwell on what I felt, but I felt it with my entire soul.

Despite what we had just done, this felt different. The scene felt over, his powerful orgasm had shifted the mood in our little bubble. I wasn’t his Miss. He wasn’t my pretty, nervous boy. He was Spencer and I was y/n; and he wanted to make me feel good. He rose over me then, wasting no time on foreplay; he knew I didn’t need it.

He settled between my thighs, his hands wrapping around them, his fingers digging into my skin. With one final look at my face to make sure this was really okay, he put his mouth on me. My back arched and my mouth hung open in a silent scream. Spencer didn’t toy with me; he knew how close I was.

“Spencer, Spencer, fuck,” his eyes opened when my fingers tangled in his hair, my pussy grinding into his face. “I’m so close. Fuck.”

I was so lost I didn’t realize his hand had moved until I felt two fingers enter me, curling expertly. He pumped his fingers and wrapped his lips around my clit, sucking firmly. That was all it took for me to cum for him.

It all happened so quickly I didn’t have time to be scared. He was the first man to make me orgasm in longer than I wanted to admit. I knew the last time I let someone put their mouth on me. It had always felt like a deeply intimate act to me, I was always nervous to let anyone do it.

Spencer rose up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Why is that sexy?

He laid down beside me; I'm not sure who's arms wrapped around who first, but we were clinging to each other, both of us breathing hard.

“So,” I said, after clearing my throat. “What did you think?”

Spencer chuckled, the hot air of his breath puffing against my hair. “I liked it.”

“Yeah?” I pulled back to look at his eyes.

“Mhm," was his response as he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on my lips before his mood shifted. "Y/n…I'm sorry I got so mad." He looked so embarrassed as he said it as if it wasn't the sweetest thing in the world that Spencer Reid would care about me like that. “I just…I saw him touching you and I just…” he dropped his gaze. “I know we didn’t talk about monogamy, but I thought- I was just so worrie-“

My finger pressed against his lips. “I don’t want to be with anyone else, Spencer.”

We fell asleep shortly after that. I couldn’t help but wonder if his thoughts felt anything like mine; the irony of it all was I was too afraid to ask.

Series tag list: @abschaffer2​ @liaabsurd​ @brokenanxiety​ @thisiscalmandits-dr​​ @less-intelligent-spencerreid​​ @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @cielo1984​ @sarcasticsagittarius1998​ @101donuts​ @heyitssarahk @creepingfromthecorners​ @imjusthereformggcontent​ @fanfictionislifetho​  @annestine​

Taglist: @rachelxwayne​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @sickeninglyshoujo @justagirllookingforherplace​ @nanocoool​

[yeojaa]

ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears.  You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard.  The best part?  You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main.  He might just love you.

alt summary.  Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing.  jeon jungkook

genre + rating.  fluffy crack, smut.  explicit.

warning / tags.  long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish),  eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch, oral (f receiving), fingering, enough sweetness you’ll get cavities. 

reading.   n/a.  a three part one-shot.

word count.  ~8400

part iii.

JUNGKOOK’S HOTEL ROOM Sunday, 3 May, 2020.  12:20 AM (LA), 4:20 PM (Seoul).

There’s nothing quite like the feeling after a show.  How it crowds cavities behind his molars and sets his heart off on a marathon, exhilaration colouring his cheeks and stealing his voice.  It’s something he’ll never get tired of - all the best parts of this journey presented on a silver platter. 

Still, he thinks talking to you might be a close second.  

“I can’t understand a single thing you’re saying,”  you chide, playfully, with a mouthful of granola.  It crunch crunch crunches in his ears, blocking the sound of his own laughter, ringing and half out of breath.

“I said I’m sorry.  I’ve been so busy.  Things have just been—”  Crazy?  Out of this world?  Some kind of wonderful?  “—hectic.”  He all but throws himself across his bed, the luxurious hotel sheets soft against his still overheated cheek.  It feels nice but steals the strength of his voice, muffling his words as he continues, like a runaway train with no destination in mind. 

You laugh at him as you always do, mirth sprinkled over teasing like little treasures to be found among the vowels and consonants.  “It’s fine , Jay.”  The name - not his name - rolls off your tongue, dragged out by the giggles you can’t help.  “I know you’re a busy guy.  Don’t worry about it.”

Easier said than done, Jungkook thinks.  You’ve been on his mind every day, in between the practices and the performances.  A silhouette shaped like you - not that he knows how you’re shaped - existing in the recesses of his thoughts. 

“Anyway, I finally stopped losing SR so it’s not all bad...”

He doesn’t register what you’re saying.  Not at first, anyway.  But when he does?  He’s belligerent, the loudest shriek rocketing out of his chest as he dissolves into laughter.  So you were a little bit better than him.  “Hey!”

“Hey yourself, sandbag.”  

Your mockery shouldn’t have the dumbest smile spreading like wildfire but it does, the expression eating up every ounce of his exhausted self.  He can’t fight it, glee working itself every which way until he’s on his back, staring up at the ceiling as his jaw aches.  

“You’re mean,”  he manages in between the teeth-numbing joy, chest heaving.

He’s certain you don’t mean it the way he takes it.  “And yet you love it.”  

God, if only you knew.

He wants to tell you so badly - wants to shout it from the rooftops until he’s blue in the face and without a voice.  He thinks he’d have a chance, maybe, if your passed secrets at midnight and tender goodnights were any indication.

But he can’t, because he’s him and you’re, well, you, and really, it’s just his fault.

“Did you die?”  You steal him out of his reverie, tearing him wholly from inside that overthinking head of his.  It’s one of the things you’re best at (other than keeping him alive in Overwatch).

He sighs and it’s a wistful sound, softer than any other that’s passed between you since getting on the phone fifteen minutes ago.  “I’m good, yeah.  I’m fine.”

“You sure?  I thought I might’ve lost you for a second.”

The playfulness has returned, rounding syllables in a way that’s very distinctly you.  

“Yes, Mom .”  

“Watch it or you’re grounded, young man!” 

“Do you even know how old I am?”  Probably not, because he doesn’t know that about you either.  

For all of the secrets you’ve shared, these very basic pieces of information are ones you’ve never exchanged.  They’ve always been held tightly to the chest, held hostage behind sharp gates of enamel. There was too much at stake when it came to these identifiers.

Sure, you’d told him about your greatest fear - losing one of your parents without being able to say goodbye - and sure, he’d told you his - not being good enough and letting the people he loves down even when he’s trying as hard as he can - but your ages?  Where you grew up?  Your real names?  That was out of the question.

“Are you about to tell me you’re sixteen?  Have I been friends with a high school student this whole time?”  You’re chuckling at your own genius.  He really doesn't think you’re that funny - low hanging fruit and all that - but he likes the way it sounds, curling out of your mouth like smoke.

“I’m actually twelve .  Geez, get it right.”

You gasp, scandalized and as if you really believe him.  It makes him choke on his own spit and he has to roll over onto his stomach, effectively trapping his phone between his chest and the bed as he struggles to regulate his breathing. 

“I’ve always wanted a little brother!”  

It’s a joke.  Obviously , it’s a joke.  He shouldn’t take it seriously.

And yet he’s fueled with the need to rebuff it, speaking before he has a chance to stop it, the words coming in a flurry.  It’s a verbal snowstorm, locking the conversation in place - like Mei’s ultimate except he’s trapped in it, too.  “I have something to tell you.”  There’s no going back now.

For once, you’re not tearing holes in his confidence - not that you ever do with any sort of animosity.  Your relationship was equal parts give and take, honey and vinegar coexisting in perfect harmony.

When Jungkook doesn’t immediately continue, you give him a little push.  “Spit it out, Jay.”

“My name isn’t Jay.”  A small, insecure part of him worries that that’s enough to shatter the careful friendship you’ve crafted.  You - Jinny, the ineffable - remain surprisingly silent.  He’s not sure whether that’s encouraging or disheartening.  “I… haven’t really been honest with you.”

Already he can feel the nervous energy in his limbs, anxiety replacing the high he’d been on only an hour ago.

“I’m…”  How does he start?  “I’m not just… some guy.”  Okay, that sounds bad.  He’s backtracking.  “I mean, I’m a guy.  I’m normal.”  This is going so poorly.  His breath catches in his throat, teeth worrying incessantly over the soft cherry Chapsticked contour of his bottom lip.  “I’m just not, y’know, your average guy.  I’m actually like, uh...”  

Jungkook has never stuttered this much in his entire goddamn life.

“My name’s Jeon Jungkook and I’m the golden maknae of Bangtan Sonyeondan.”

It comes in such a rush that you probably don’t hear it clearly.  He’s introduced himself this same way for over half a decade and even it sounds strange to his ears.  

When you don’t respond after what feels like an eternity, he’s left to his own devices, filling the silence with the erratic beating of his heart. 

“Jinny?”  It comes smaller than he means it to, uncertain and filled with hesitation.  Still, nothing.  He wants to toss himself off the 37th floor balcony so he doesn’t have to feel this way.  “Can you say something?”

Your voice is far more measured than his own.  You’re trying to be serious, he thinks.  “I… kind of - sort of - already knew?” 

Well, he hadn’t expected that.

“What?”

“I mean, the other members don’t exactly knock before they barge into your room screaming your name.”  A beat.  He can hear the laughter that’s threatening to knock your words into submission.  “ And you posted a cover of a song I sent you.”  

Dammit.  Dammit dammit dammit .

That was definitely his fault.  It’d just been so good - living in his head and in his heart rent-free. “ Never Not’s a good song!”  He retorts, like that’s an appropriate rebuttal.

“I know, doofus.”  

“You’re the doofus!”

The two of you were back, glazing over the revelation like it was nothing more than a little bump in the road.

“Thank you for telling me, though.”  He imagines you’re smiling - can practically hear it in your voice.  Somehow, it feels different.  Sunnier than usual, blinding in its intensity.  “I wasn’t sure if you ever would.”

“Would you have been mad if I didn’t?”  Though he asks, he’s not sure if he’s ready for the answer.

“Of course not.”  

“Really?”

You’re only a little exasperated when you reassure him.  “Of course not.  You’re still you - no matter what you do.”

Whatever best case scenario he’d imagined doesn’t hold a candle to this.  He’s a million miles over the moon.  You must be able to tell because he can hear you stifling sound, trails of laughter buzzing around in his ears like hummingbirds.  

“So, what now?”

“What do you mean ‘what now’ ?  Didn’t you hear what I just said?”  There’s no venom in your words.  “You’re still you, Jay.”

“It’s Jungkook.”  There’s that unabashed need to hear his name.  He hopes it isn’t too obvious.

“I know but that’s gonna be hard to get used to.” 

“Is your real name Jinny?”  He’s always wondered.

“It’s Yoojin.  Jinny’s just my nickname.”  

“Well, Jinny—”  He says it dragged out and silly.  “—want to come to one of our shows?”

“I live in Seoul.”

“So what?”

The second time sounds exactly like the first.  He snorts.  “I live in Seoul .”  

"I’ll fly you to Osaka.”

It’s the first time he’s heard you genuinely shocked.  It strips the usual mischief from your tone, draping it in lily white and baby’s breath.  “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”  He doesn’t think he’s wanted anything more.  At least, not in a very long time.

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

It sounds better than he could have ever imagined.

KYOCERA DOME OSAKA Thursday, 23 July, 2020.  10 PM.

Does he smell bad?  Should he have showered first?  Would you be grossed out?

These are all the thoughts running through his mind, chasing themselves in circles like a dog after its own tail.  They revolve in a neverending merry-go-round, creasing worry into his brow and dropping his mouth into a little O-shaped pout.

“You ready, Jungkookie?”  Jimin’s doing what he does best - draping himself across his maknae’s shoulders without a care in the world.  

“Are you nervous?”  Hobi’s swiping through his phone, dark hair a stylishly dishevelled mess around his angelic face.  He’s still got traces of makeup around his eyes and his clip-on earrings glint under fluorescent light.  

A hand lands hard on his shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle in a way that’s meant to be reassuring.  “Of course he is.”  Namjoon can read him like a book, shooting Jungkook his signature smile in the same instance he receives one.

“I’m not nervous!”  The youngest chirps in a voice that warbles like a baby bird.

Everyone laughs at that and he can feel his ears burning around the edge of his baseball cap. It creeps over the shell and down his neck, descending blossoms of colour into the collar of his shirt.  

“Shouldn’t you get going?”  It’s Yoongi that reminds him of the time, the rapper only barely cracking an eye open as he taps the face of his steel-cased Audemars Piguet.  He’s right.

Jungkook jolts out of his seat, scrambling to his feet - all four thousand dollars of his designer boots - and nearly knocks Jimin off the back of the couch he’d been precariously balanced on.  The overeager bunny shouts an apology that’s lost amongst even louder laughter as he tears out of the room. 

He’s going to be late .

He doesn’t think he’s ever ran so fast in his life - darting past bicycling seniors and tourists with all the grace of a boy in love.  He somehow manages to find the entrance of the BIC CAMERA store without much hassle, rooting himself just left of the door when his phone screen registers 10:30 PM.

A little triumphant whoop! presses into the sponge-like material of his facemask in the same moment he catches sight of a waving hand.

He’s not sure whether it’s the mask or the sight of you that’s making it hard to breathe.

“Hi.”  You sound exactly like you always have and yet six months of hearing your voice somehow doesn't prepare him for it.  It hits him like a ton of bricks, crashing his resolve into the soles of his feet.  There’s something about you that makes him squint - like staring directly at the sun.  His heart stutters in his chest.  He thinks, dimly, he can hear bells in the distance.  It’s probably from a food stall, but he doesn’t care.  

It’s the first meeting he’s always dreamed of, wrapped up in an adorable pink Cooky headband. 

He’s scooping you into his arms before he can think better of it, twirling you around like the princess you are.  It probably isn’t appropriate - you’ve only just met - but he can’t resist.  You feel so good in his arms, weightless and yet entirely grounding.  

The fact that you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck, easily reciprocating his onslaught of affection, doesn't go unnoticed.  He tucks away this knowledge into the sleeve of his shirt for safekeeping.  

“I’m so sorry,”  he says, though he doesn’t sound very sorry at all.  You’re back on your two feet, black military boots of your own on solid ground once again.  

Standing so close, he can smell your perfume.  Its notes of vanilla and cola and something powdery, reminiscent of babies and home.  You’re smaller than he imagined, with narrow shoulders and wide hips.  Like him, you look to be about 95% leg, faded blue denim hugging your thighs and falling loosely around the tops of your Doc Martens. Your top is long-sleeved but semi-sheer and he can make out what he thinks are inkings over your skin, little trails in greyscale and colour that draw his stare.

Stop being weird , he tells himself when he finally manages to refocus, tearing his gaze from the jasmine branches that traverse your limbs and training it on your eyes instead.

Bad idea, Jungkook.

He’s lost in the colour of your irises - an impossibly dark brown that twinkles under the awning lights - and the heart-shaped turn of your jaw.  He’s all too distracted by the high contours of your cheeks, the turn of your button nose, the dusty pink that fills the shape of your mouth and fades prettily against your skin. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out.”  The way your lips move should be a chargeable offence.  They coax into a smirk that’s equal parts soft and vexing, singular dimple presenting itself with the motion.

God, he’s so in over his head.  He can feel it in his bones.

So he laughs - because that’s what he does when he’s unnerved - and the sound is a pack of hyenas.  It’s Lion King on Broadway, sweeping above the already boisterous cacophony of the entertainment district. 

“Your laugh is even better in person.”  You’ve said better and not worse and even though he’s a little self-conscious - a decidedly not Jungkook-like thing to be - he preens from the praise.  

“Yeah?”  Can you see the hearts in his eyes?  He imagines they’ve replaced his pupils. 

“Yeah.  But don’t let that get to your head, mister.” 

“Already has - sorry.”  

You laugh in sync and it’s music to his ears - the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. 

The two of you fall into your routine in a way that feels effortless, the back and forth banter rivalling that of best friends.  

You tease him mercilessly, picking up on all his little idiosyncrasies - how he stands at stop lights, pigeon-toed and adorable; how he jams his hands into the back pocket of his jeans in tandem with the tips of his ears burning bright red;  how his laugh sometimes trips over itself and splinters like a kid going through puberty.  He doesn’t mind any of it, truthfully, because it means you’re paying attention to him just as much as he is you.

Because he sees all of your little habits too - watches them unfold before his eyes in technicolour.  You bite your own lip when you think you’ve said something particularly funny.  You wiggle your head on your shoulders like a bobblehead when he says something snappy, equally biting remarks softened by the way you bob up and down.  You don’t step on cracks, even if it means you’re straining those strangely long legs of yours to carry yourself a few inches further.  

You don’t have any patience - something he’s known since the beginning - but that he realizes with a front row seat when you’re shoving a takoyaki into his face.  There’s steam curling off it and the smell is intoxicating but he can practically feel the roof of his mouth burning when you’re relentlessly offering it to him.  You’re not even deterred by the fact that he’s got a facemask on. 

“Open up!”  

Jungkook wants to say no - should say no, for the sake of his own health - but he accepts it anyway.

It sears white hot pain the moment it lands on his tongue, teeth buzzing uncomfortably as he bites into the dough.  He’s sucking air in through his teeth, the cold barely doing anything to alleviate the sting.  He probably looks stupid as hell.  

Of course, you’re laughing at him, lips curled in on themselves as you try to choke back the sound. 

“Too hot?”  You coo, feigning surprise.  You do feel a little bad - he can see it in the flex of your jaw, how your bamboo stick-wielding hand lingers in the space between you.  “My bad.”

He chews once, twice - tries to keep it to a minimum because holy shit , does it hurt - before swallowing.  It burns on the way down.  “You eat one now.”  He’s pushing the tray towards you, long fingers curled around yours as he all but tries to make you face plant into the plate.  

“I don’t like squid,”  you deadpan, lying through those neat white teeth of yours.  You’d literally made takoyaki at home a few weeks ago.  He’d dared you to put an entire wasabi ball into one and you’d done it.  

“Shut up.” 

“You shut up!”

So it goes for the rest of the night, trading insults over street food.  You share an ice cream-filled melon pan - well, he orders one and you eat all of it but a bite - and you scroll through your phone as he inhales a bowl of ramen.  He catches you taking a picture of him when he’s halfway through slurping noodles into his mouth like a Hoover.  You look a little sheepish when he swallows and levels you with a look that screams unimpressed.

“Is this okay?”  You’re a little uncertain and it’s the cutest thing he’s seen all night, teeth catching your bottom lip.  He wonders, briefly, what it’d be like to do that to you instead.

You beam when he reassures you.  “Of course.” 

“I won’t post it anywhere.”  

He wants to tell you that’s okay, too, but he knows he shouldn’t.  Instead, he simply returns your smile and goes about finishing his bowl of broth.  You take a few more photos - of his face when he’s full-belied and satisfied, of the street where people mingle and mix, of the stupidly big moving crab sign across the way.

He wonders if you can feel it too - the connection that crackles between you like a livewire. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,”  you return your attention to him in the same instant he’s glossing over the shape of your lips, the turn of your nose.  “I’ll pay you back.”

Before he realizes what’s happening, your hand is on his.  You don’t do very much, simply allowing your palm to rest over his, fingers curled around the seam of his thumb.  It’s so much smaller - complete with neatly manicured lilac nails - that he stares down at it for a beat too long.  

You start to pull away - he sees it happening almost in slow motion - when he flips his own, catching your wrist in his grasp.  “No need,”  he mumbles, not quite looking at you.  He’s still too focused on the way your hands fit together like two puzzle pieces. 

“We’ll see about that,”  you return, equally as soft.  

Everything feels a little fuzzy, like you’re wrapped up in cotton candy and cloud nine.  

You must feel it too.

But then you’re standing and you’re not holding his hand any longer and he thinks maybe he’s imagining it all over again.  It leaves him heartsick, reaching for your figure that’s already too far away.  

“We should head back - I have an early flight tomorrow.”

Damn him and his poor planning skills.  He should’ve booked you something later in the day.  Why had he thought the 9 AM departure was the best idea? 

“Right.”  He lifts himself off of the wooden bench, returning his facemask to its rightful place as he closes the distance between you in four easy strides.  He tries to ignore the way you smile at him when you’re back together, matching pace through the somehow still-packed streets.

There’s no playful ribbing now.  The schoolyard mockery is replaced with a comfortable silence that sinks into his bones and brushes his hand against yours every time you have to squeeze past a gaggle of people that just won’t move.  It’s familiar without being boring, satisfying the big fat crush that lives in his heart. 

It settles even further when you do the same, head gentle against the curve of his shoulder.  

“Did you have fun?”  He finally asks when the familiar silhouette of the Conrad Hotel comes into view, your driver rolling to a complete stop right in front of the impressive glass structure.

You hum something that sounds like yes as he pays and thanks the driver in the softest Japanese before he ushers you out of the back of the cab.  You’re smiling at him, heavy-lidded and with a tenderness he doesn’t expect.  You must be tired.

“More than I’ve ever had.”  There’s a certain truth to your words, whether it’s from your sleepy state or something else.  “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to,”  he reminds you, guiding you past the concierge with a palm on the small of your back.  It’s intimate in a way he’s not really sure is appropriate but you don’t seem to mind, all too happy to be herded around like a baby duckling.

“Stop saying that.”  There’s no weight behind your words - only sandman’s dust and starry-eyed affection.  Jungkook’s heart plays a staccato rhythm in his chest as he steps into the lift behind you, crowded against the far right wall.  Mozart would be proud. 

Trapped in the small six by six area, his breath seems too loud.  The roar of his pulse in his ears is deafening.  He barely hears his own words when they stumble out of their own accord.  

“I like you.”

Your laugh is the sweetest he’s ever heard.  “I know.”  

“You do?”  He rounds on you in the same breath, your body mirroring his subconsciously.

“Of course I do.”  You’re so confident he absorbs a little bit of it, stepping closer when you do. “I’m your safe place - and you’re mine, too.”

His hands are shaking when they crowd your face, thumbs gentle over the jut of your chin.  “Can I kiss you?”  Spoken like a child asking for a Christmas gift, full of wonder and hope.  

“Hm.”  The vibration of your sigh is felt through his fingers all the way down to his toes.

He decides for you, closing the distance with a roll of his shoulders.  

Kissing you is unlike anything he could’ve ever imagined.  It’s better than his wildest dreams.  It’s soft and sweet and done with the utmost care, like you’ll break if he isn’t careful.  You taste as good as you smell - the citrusy tang of your lip gloss reminding him of Lotte World lemonade and picnics on the Han River. 

“I’m sorry.”  It’s an unnecessary apology that gets lost against your lips - because he isn’t quite ready to let go of you yet.  “I couldn’t help it.”

“You’re forgiven, I guess .”  

When you speak, it’s kissing in its most basic form, mouth brushing over his with each enunciation.  He wonders what it’d be like to have you sing a song for him like this.  He decides he wants to find out as soon as possible.  Needs it like he needs air - or more of you.  Either or.

“Thanks.”  

You laugh together and kiss again and again, repeating the motion like overeager high school students behind the bleachers.  He grazes your forehead, pressing sweetness into the tops of your eyelids and you return the favour, sweeping delight over the sharp turn of his jaw and over skin not hidden by the collar of his button-down. 

You’re so involved that you hardly notice when the lift doors slide open, revealing the empty hallway of the 33rd floor.  You break away first, though it’s not without some resistance - both his and yours.  He wants to keep you here with him as long as he can, because it feels like where you belong .

“I’ll see you.”  A last kiss - lingering, longing, littered with words neither of you say.

And then you’re gone.  

JINNY’S APARTMENT Saturday, 5 September, 2020.  2:45 PM.

You live in a nondescript apartment in a nondescript neighbourhood with trimmed hedges and a crisp white exterior.  There’s a doormat - grey, a little frayed at the edges, polka-dotted - and nothing else.  No sign on your door, just the number 134 stamped on the right-hand side, half a foot away from the window that looks into the open-air hallway.  

You answer the door on the first knock, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like you’d been lingering just behind the frame, waiting for his arrival.  Your hair’s shiny and freshly washed, damp at the ends where you haven’t wicked all the moisture away.  You look comfortable - if not a little overexcited - bouncing from sock-clad foot to sock-clad foot in your low slung sweatpants and oversized tee shirt. He can see half a dozen plants just behind your bobbing head, his gaze bouncing between pretty ceramic and terracotta pots.

“I half expected you to live in a PC bang,”  Jungkook states, drole and with that trademark grin of his, nose scrunched and eyes waning.

You counter him easily.  “You haven’t even been inside.  Maybe it’s all a front.”

He snickers at the thought, stepping over the threshold once you’ve taken a step back.  It smells like cinnamon and sugar - he wonders if you’ve been baking - and he peers curiously around the apartment.  

“It’s a candle,”  you supply before he has a chance to ask, reading the question in his stare.  

“You mean you didn’t bake me a cake?”  

You offer an extended scoff in place of an answer, rolling your eyes as he unlaces his boots.  “What for?  Your birthday’s already passed.”

“It might not have.”

“It literally has.  I know your birthday.”

Right.  Because he’s him and that’s sort of common knowledge. 

He chuckles to himself as he sets his boots aside, right beside where yours sit, near identical.  He doesn’t need to say anything when he hears you sniff, Rilakkuma-tipped sock nudging his hand away from where it threatens to upend the piece of footwear. 

“I had them before I met you.” 

“Right.”  It’s too easy to tease you - just as it’s too easy to rib him.  This is how the two of you are.  Schoolchildren with big crushes and near zero emotional maturity. 

“Do you want a tour or are you just gonna be some weirdo with a foot fetish?” 

He meets your stare then, both of your expressions ice cold.  If looks could kill .

You crack before he does, though your laughter melds together like a perfect harmony, ricocheting off the art-covered walls.  

“Fine, fine.  Show me around.”

So you do - with gusto and great pride.  It rolls off you in waves, tangible in the cascade of your hair over your shoulder and the way you beam up at him.  You’re like a kid at show-and-tell.

You guide him into the living area - a small space with a comfortable, worn-in grey couch and probably more throw pillows and blankets than is strictly speaking necessary.  There are framed pieces on the wall and it’s the contents that surprise him.  There’s Mercy playing pool, bent over the table in a revealing Playboy bunny one piece;  there’s D.Va in a hoodie and little else, bottles of soju littering both the back and foreground. 

Where the walls are bare, there’s other stuff taking up the space.  Artfully positioned floating shelves house succulents and cacti.  A well-cared for Monstera sits in a far corner, taking up more space than it probably should.  Nestled among its soil are little Animal Crossing Amiibos - Cyrus and Reese, to be exact.  There’s an all-white cabinet with a glass front and some of the most random stuff he’s ever seen:  limited edition Gunpla, a Taiko Drum, and your framed university degree (for accounting, to his great surprise). 

“Is that a Widow bobblehead?”  He spies it last, sitting on the cabinet that houses an impressive array of gaming consoles.  You even have a VR headset, the cords neatly looped together and tucked away beside a maneki neko-shaped piggy bank. 

“Maybe.” 

“You really are a dork.”

“Says the bigger dork?  Really?” 

He could dispute that - easily - but he doesn’t, instead shrugging it off as he flops onto the couch, feet immediately kicking themselves up. 

“What’re you doing?”  You join him even as you ask.  He’s a little disappointed by the polite amount of space you leave - just enough that you’re not touching.  

“I’m tired.”

“I haven’t finished the tour.”

“Tour schmore .”  

You scowl at him and it’s so charming that he wishes you were just a little closer.  He’d kiss that look right off your face if it were up to him.

“What do you want to do then?”  Where the stuffed animal comes from, he’s not sure.  It’s more than a little ratty, soft brown fur faded from what looks like years and years of love.  You hold it tight, clutched to your chest as you recline against the far arm. 

“Watch the Runaway and Lunatic-Hai show matches?” 

You level him with a look that very much tells him he is the bigger nerd.  He doesn’t mind, though.  He’s been wanting to watch these matches for months since it was first announced.  

Unfortunately, you’d promised each other you’d only watch it together, so really, this was your fault.

You must suddenly remember that, because you’re biting back the words he’s sure were about to tear into him, swallowing them whole as you grab your PS4 controller and begin silently navigating through YouTube.  He smiles, a little triumphant thing he knows you can see from the corner of your eye.

“Happy?”  Resentment mixes with excitement as you return your controller to its rightful home and settle yourself once more against the too-many pillows. 

“No.”  Jungkook worries for your neck when you whip to look at him, brow furrowed and mouth blown out in a pout.  

“Why not?”  

He memorizes the way you look right now, framed against sunlight that spills through your windows and hugging what he assumes is your childhood teddy bear.  It’s an immediate serotonin boost.

“Because you’re all the way over there.”  He sighs, long and loud, head swinging in a dramatic semi-circle.  He can hear you snickering despite yourself - could pick it out in a crowd of thousands, he thinks - and suddenly you’re beside him, distance closed in a heartbeat.

With you so close, it’s hard to think, his thoughts jumbled and tripping over themselves. 

“Better?”  You must know the effect you have on him, because you’re batting those goddamn eyelashes up at him, mouth dancing around his favourite sound in the world. 

“Much,”  he hums, unashamed.  

“Welcome home, Kook.”  The way you say it sparks fireworks in his chest.  He knows you mean home as in the city of Seoul, but it feels like more and he likes that - just like how he likes you and this little piece of normalcy.

It feels good to be here with you, seemingly without a care in the world.  

It’s distinctly different from anything he’s used to - even better than the long hours spent bonding on the internet.  There’s no worry here, no nagging in the back of his mind, no concern that one of his hyungs will burst into his room.  It’s just you and him and commentary on his favourite game. 

That is, until it’s just him and commentary on his favourite game.  He’d lost you somewhere along the way, roughly three hours in.  He hadn’t noticed at first, far too focused on the big brain plays unravelling across the screen, but when you started snoring, he knew. 

You just snored so damn loudly.

“Jinny.”  He feels bad when he has to rouse you, the feeling in his right leg but a distant memory.  

You don’t move.  He wonders when the last time you slept was. 

“Jinny,”  he repeats himself, a little louder this time.  There’s the beginning of stirrings, your head drifting from its position on his shoulder to nestle into the crease of the couch cushions.  “Do you want me to take you to bed?”  

It doesn’t immediately dawn on Jungkook how that sounds.

“Wouldn’t you like that,”  you mumble into the woven fabric, half-asleep.

“What?”  

“Nothing, nothing.”  You’re doing that thing you do when you’re impressed with yourself, teeth littering your bottom lip with indentations.  It’s more distracting than it should be, paired with those bedroom eyes he’s not certain you’re in control of. 

Get it together , he scolds himself.  In his mind, the angel powerbombs the devil into submission.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“No!  Not yet.”  You’re waving a boneless wrist in his direction, like you’re swatting away an irksome fly.  It’s cute, in a frazzled sort of way.  

“You want to sleep out here?”  He knows you don’t - you’ve complained about it enough times when you wake up with kinks in your neck and soreness in your back.  

“No!”  A huff puffs out your cheeks, blows your grown-out bangs away from your face.  You’re sitting up now, slowly but surely.  There are creases all over your face - an ode to the couch.  He has to keep from laughing right at you - bites it back with a bitten tongue when you sniff and card a hand over through your hair.  “I have a gift for you.”  

You say it so sweetly, he can’t help himself.  

“Is it you?”

He’s honestly not sure what to expect once he’s spoken.  He half thinks you’ll laugh, shove him away from you with a giggle and a roll of your eyes.  He hopes you won’t, though - can feel every fibre of his being strung tight with anticipation and hope and the request of please, love me .

“Do you want it to be?”  You’re looking at him with the strangest expression.  He can’t read it at all, despite how easily he normally does.  It’s white noise, static on a television screen.

Uncertainty grips him.  “I do.”  

“Then I’m yours.”

It’s music to his ears - the key to his heart.  It strips away the doubt, turning it on its head.  

He finally does what he’s wanted to for the past four hours.  

When he kisses you this time, it’s different.  It’s urgent but not rushed;  he takes his time in exploring the softness of your lips, how they fall open under his careful ministrations.  His mouth slants, coaxes you to give everything to him as his tongue passes tentatively over yours.  You taste like lemons again - and a touch of honey.

It’s intoxicating and addictive and he chases the high it gives him, large hands finding purchase against the back of your head and the slope of your jaw.  Fingers thread through your hair - gentle at first, then with more purpose.  He maneuvers you how he needs you and peppers kisses everywhere he can reach.  Your eyelids, your nose, your neck.  

When he ghosts his mouth across your shoulder - mouthing hot over the soft cotton of your shirt - and finds that particular point where your pulse beats, you gasp.

He’d thought your laugh was his favourite sound but he realizes now how wrong he was.

“Do that again.”  You say it together, in perfect sync.

Laughter blooms between you and he muffles his against your throat, nosing over where your perfume lingers most.  He inhales once, twice, and holds you somehow closer, all but dragging you into his lap.  “You’re my dream girl, you know that?”  The words are surprisingly sweet, given the compromising position you’re currently in. 

“You’re not too bad yourself.”  You thread your fingers just as he has, twirling through his just-on-the-right-side-of-too-long strands. 

He moves to pull away, a scoff building in his throat, but you’re having none of it, capturing his lips the moment he’s made up his mind.  You really could read him like a book.  He wonders what you’re thinking now, starts running through possibilities when you bite down just so on his pouting bottom lip.  

A not-so-subtle hint to get out of his own head.

“Stop thinking,”  you hum, lending your voice to his thoughts.

“Sorry,”  he returns in kind, tracing an apologetic tongue over the seam of your lips.  

“Show me how sorry.”  

You sound positively sinful and while it isn’t the answer he’d expected, it stirs something within him - from his chest to somewhere decidedly further south.  He stifles a moan, caging it behind bared teeth as he becomes suddenly far too aware of how you’re making him feel.

“You’re playing with fire, baby.”  The pet name rolls off his tongue like it was made for you. 

“It’s fine - I have self-healing.”

It’s so fucking dorky but somehow, even that makes Jungkook groan.  “Seriously - dream girl.”  

And then he’s kissing you again and again, a devoted parishioner of your church.  They’re this-side of innocent at first, little pecks that dot every sliver of available flesh.  His hands roam in tandem with his mouth, flitting beneath the cropped hem of your top before gliding greedily across the tops of your thighs.  

“Can I get the rest of the tour now?”  He looks like the devil himself, all dishevelled dark hair and that heart-wrenching, lopsided smile. 

You’re impatient though - always have been.  “Straight down the hall.  Last door to the left.”

It’s all he needs to know before he’s on his feet, rising with you as if you were featherlight.  Your ankles lock around his waist, clinging to him like the cutest koala he’s ever seen.  He doesn’t look away - frankly, can’t – as he follows your directions, gaze trained on your eyes and your lips and the column of your throat he wants to see blooming with roses.

“I’m crazy about you,”  he announces, suddenly, as he nudges open your bedroom door.

“I know.”  You say it a lot.  He wonders if you really know. 

By the way you kiss him, he thinks you might have an idea.  It’s not enough, though.  He wants to show you - needs to show you. 

You allow yourself to be tossed upon your bed - soft grey sheets, no stuffed animals in sight, too many pillows again - and he hovers above you, curious.  “Are you sure you know?”  The question is punctuated by the drop of his knee, cotton of his black joggers a stark contrast to the soft linens.

You’re not sure if this is a game - he can read the question swimming in your eyes.  “Maybe?”  You’re upspeaking, which is something you never do.  It’s disarming in a way that makes him want to hear it again, but with his name over and over.

“Maybe?”  He echoes, brow quirked and mouth twisted into an expression that starts butterflies in your stomach.  It’s like a switch has flipped.  For the first time, he’s the heartthrob you’ve seen on stage, the one fansites rave about with fervour.  A force to be reckoned with .  “Let me make it clear then?”

It’s spoken like a question, though it begs no answer.  You’d give him anything he wanted.

“Can I?”  You don’t think you have it in you to respond - not when he’s looking at you the way he is, from behind dark lashes and with the most charming smile you’ve ever seen.  But he needs an answer - won’t go further until he has one. 

“Yes,”  you breathe in a voice that doesn’t quite sound like your own, far too airy and mellifluous.

He looks like a kid who’s had his heart’s greatest wish granted.  There’s unbridled joy spilling into every crevice, streaming out of every pore as he lowers himself onto the bed.  You’re trapped beneath him - knees situated comfortably on either side of your legs - when his hands find the shorn hem of your shirt, tugging gently at the offending article of clothing.

“Off,”  he says simply.  It’s gone before you can think twice.  Your sweatpants and socks follow in quick succession - he snorts a laugh when he has to tug your socks off by the ears on either side of your ankles - until you’re left in only black cotton that covers hardly anything at all.

Jungkook sighs a sound that shoots straight into the belly of the beast, sparking warmth in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re so beautiful.”  

He sees the uncertainty in your eyes, hands reaching to cover the places you’ve been self-conscious about since you were old enough to understand what bullying was.  The modest swell of your chest, the tiger stripes along your hips.  

Words are fitted with motion, hands of his own sweeping your arms away from your body. Long fingers curl easily around the dainty turn of your wrist.  “Please don’t hide from me.” 

You can’t deny him when he asks so nicely.

“Tell me about these?”  He means your tattoos, of course.  They’re intricate works of art that span nearly a quarter of your flesh, painting grayscale and colour over cream.  There’s the jasmine he’d spotted the night you met, coiled around your left forearm and up to your bicep in stark ink.  Across your stomach, from the top of your right thigh and over your ribs, are intricate peonies in shades of pink and red and green.  Everywhere lines bloom, etched forever into your skin, his mouth follows.  He can’t ingrain himself in the same ways but he tries, searing devotion in the form of kisses.  

It tickles when he ghosts over your ribs with both tongue and teeth and it’s absolutely indescribable when he catches your nipple between enamel.  

You make that sweet sound he so loves - a heady mix between a gasp and a moan - and he repeats the motion.  You hardly realize he’s speaking when he does it for the third time and adds nimble fingers to pinch and pull the other into the same pebbled state.

“ Tell me.”  He sounds like he’s laughing, trapped halfway down your body with his cheek pressed to the modest swell of your chest.

You’re not sure how you get the words out.  “My mom’s a big gardener.  She calls me her flower.”

“Her flower, huh?”  The question is muffled among your humble cleavage.

“Did I stutter?”  That earns you a sharp tweak to your nipple, the pain shooting pleasure through your limbs in a very unexpected way.  You’ve never been one for pain but the sight of Jungkook staring up at you, head cocked and hands full - well, there’s a first time for everything.

“You want to be nicer to me,”  he states solemnly, like he’s commenting on the weather or the 6 o’clock news and not palming your tits in his much larger hands and drawing out the sweetest murmurs of encouragement.

“I am nice to you,”  you retort - or try to at least.  You hardly get it out before it’s chased out by another one of those lovely sounds that Jungkook seems to be obsessed with. 

“ Nicer , baby.”  

As if to drive his point home, he straightens out, face suddenly dangerously close.  He crowds you with his entire frame, mouth finding yours easily.  It’s not the same sort of kisses you’ve shared all evening;  it’s a display of dominance, a reminder that articulates more than he can say. 

It’s also a distraction, you realize belatedly, with a gasp tearing its way out of your throat. 

Capable hands have found their mark, digits sweeping beneath the seam of your thong.  He lingers just shy of where you desperately want him, expertly trailing featherlight touches through your folds.  He never goes further - doesn’t stretch where you need him most. He’s careful not to brush your clit, focusing instead on the way you’re coating his fingers.

The shit-eating grin never leaves his lips - which never leave your mouth.  He swallows your whines in the same instant he’s pulling them forth, playing you like a fiddle without even really doing anything.  

“Can you do that for me?”  He coos against your neck, that damned voice of his dripping liquid gold into your ears.  

You have to focus hard on what he’s saying because his touch is so distracting.  “What?”  

“I said—”  It stings where his mouth connects, where his teeth nip and spill wine over porcelain.  He’s painting the prettiest pictures, signing his name in the form of broken capillaries.  “—can you be nice to me?”

You’d like to respond - really, you would - but he punctuates the question with the glide of his finger and you can’t do anything but arch into the sudden intrusion.  It feels so good and yet isn’t nearly enough.  

“Kook.”  You’ve never sounded this whiny in your life.  Even his name - one single syllable - hardly makes it past your lips without descending into a cry.

“Use your words , angel.” 

If every nerve ending didn’t feel like it was on fire, you might’ve yelled at him.  Instead, you can hardly form a coherent thought.  You’re too far gone, standing on the edge of a cliff as he teases you open with slow, measured pumps of his wrist.

“I need—”  He’s crooking the single digit within you, right against that spot that makes you see stars.   

“What do you need?  Ask nicely.”

“M-more.  I need m-more .”  A hiccup.  “Please.”  

“Like this?”  You’re empty all at once and then suddenly far more full, the stretch of two fingers stealing the breath from your throat.  “Or like this?”  The pad of his thumb finds your clit with ease, sweeping over the sensitive bundle of nerves once, twice, three times.  “Maybe like this?”  

He repeats his earlier movements, curling his knuckles in a come hither motion that has you sobbing out his name.

“That’s right.”  Ever the gentleman, he works you through your high, watching your face in rapt fascination as your first orgasm of the night crests and crashes over you, sending shockwaves through your system.  He admires the way your mouth falls open - full lips rounding in delight - and how your eyes screw shut.  

You’re the hottest thing Jeon Jungkook has ever seen.

“I’ve got you,”  he murmurs against your temple, never ceasing the slow drag of his fingers, the carefully measured flick of his thumb.  Even when you’re trembling with oversensitivity, he doesn’t relent, choosing instead to reposition.

His weight is gone as he settles between your legs, knees folded beneath him.  He only pauses his needy actions - almost doesn’t, when your hips roll in an apparent attempt to draw him back in - to strip you of your thong, tossing it somewhere over his shoulder.  

“Give me another, okay?”  

You aren’t given a chance to answer before he slips two fingers back where they belong and seals his mouth over your clit.  The coil he’d snapped earlier returns, tension increased tenfold as he alternates between sucking hard and licking, dragging his tongue over and around his fingers.  There’s too much stimulation.  You’re obscenely wet and you’re certain you’d be making a mess, if not for the careful way Jungkook’s devouring you whole, licking up every bit of slick.

“Kook.  Jungkook .”  His name sounds like heaven coming off your lips.  He replays it over and over in his head as he fucks his fingers into you, tapping a brutal rhythm against your g-spot.  He can tell you’re close again - can read it in the way your jaw tenses and your breathing goes erratic, lungs heaving. 

“Come on, baby.  Let go.”  The second orgasm hits harder, arching your back off the mattress as you fight to keep your knees from snapping shut.  You come with a hoarse cry, legs trembling like a leaf with the effort.  “That’s my girl.”  

He’s upon you again, this time crowding your space as he settles all one hundred and fifty pounds of himself beside you.  He anchors you in reality, preventing your boneless body from floating off by pulling you against his chest. 

“You did so good.”  

You accept his kisses readily, somehow managing to thread your arm around his neck despite the fact that you feel like you’ve just run a marathon.  

Being wrapped up in his embrace is like being home - warm and familiar.  

“I want you.”  

He laughs and you can hear the sound rattling around in his chest.  “You’ve got me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”  You sound a little petulant, like a child being denied their favourite toy.  

“I know what you meant,”  he retorts, squeezing your bare hip affectionately.  “But you’re also exhausted, so get some sleep.  Patience is key, remember?” 

You pout up at him with your messy bedhead and sleepy eyes and he almost gives in right then and there.  It’s nearly impossible not to, especially when you drag your hip across his, your ankle hooking his in a bid to bring the two of you somehow closer.

He doesn’t expect you to relent so easily but your yawn outs you, forcing itself past the cage you’re trying - and failing - to keep closed.  “Fine.” 

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“You better be.”  It’s an empty threat - you both know he won’t leave.  “I still have to give you your present, anyway.”

He feigns surprise then, snickering quietly.  “You mean it wasn’t you?”

You don’t have the energy to yell at him, so instead you dig your bony fingers into the vulnerable underside of his ribs.  He squirms away from the feeling but never really goes far.

“It’s a Mercy bobblehead, you butt.”  You yawn again, shiver running the length of your spine as you snuggle more closely against his side once more.  Jungkook tugs your duvet up around your shoulders, tucking you in tightly.  The action reminds you of why you’d bought the gift in the first place.  “I think you might actually be my guardian angel.”

notes.  the end of an era (and by era, i mean a fic).  this honestly turned out to be my baby, so i sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it.  i'll likely do some drabbles in the future, because i really, really adore this couple.  as always, let me know your thoughts.  xo

tag list.  @letmebeyour-sun​ @teawithbucky​

[wishuhadstayed]

Feel the Magic

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: 1.1k (Finally!)

Summary: Reader goes on a second date with Aaron, but things don’t turn out quite as expected. A second part to Begin Again as requested by @yes-sir-hotchner

Warnings: slight angst

Author’s Note: This started out as a one shot and now it may become a full blown series. Who knows?

Part 1 Part 3

Masterlist

It had been almost a full week since your almost magical date with Aaron Hotchner and you seriously couldn’t get the man off of your mind. I mean, honestly it seemed to good to be true. He was handsome, kind, and pretty much everything you ever wanted.

He’d arranged another date with you today, a quiet afternoon at the park and dinner after. As the minutes dragged by until Sunday afternoon, you began to grow nervous and excited. Needing a familiar voice, you dialed up your best friend and matchmaker, Penelope Garcia.

After a couple of rings a voice like a ray of sunshine came through. “Hello my gorgeous angel. How are we feeling about our date today?”

“You knew I’d call, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did, Sugar. What’s up?”

“I don’t know. I’m really looking forward to it, I guess it’s just nerves getting to me. I just want things to work out well, you know?”

“Oh honey, you have nothing to worry about. The two of you were practically made for each other. Aaron and Y/N sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G” she sang.

“Oh my God, Garcia, STOP,” you said, covering your face from embarrassment even though you were alone in the house. “It’s just our second date. I highly doubt there will be any kissing. You really think he likes me that much?”

“Well you know he’s a man of few words, especially at work, but he seems to have been in particularly good spirits this week. I’m pretty sure that’s mostly you, babe.”

“Thanks Garcia. I feel better now. Listen, I’ve gotta go so I can get ready.”

“Anytime girlfriend. And I fully expect you to give me all the juicy details after, okay?”

“If there are any juicy details to be given, I swear on pain of death you’ll be the first to know. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

Hanging up the phone you realized you were running late. Aaron would be there any minute. Rushing to get ready you threw on some mascara and a cute, breezy sundress.

Just as you slipped your shoes on there was a knock at the door. Stomach full of butterflies, you raced downstairs to open the door and there he was. Dressed in a tan sweater with the sleeves rolled up and fitted jeans, he looked criminally handsome.

“Hey Aaron, how are you?”

“I’m good,” he replied, looking you over in a quick sweeping glance. “ You look fantastic. You ready to go?”

“Absolutely.”

It was a perfect afternoon for the park. Sunny, but also a gentle breeze, the temperature was just right. The two of you walked and talked, passing occasional touches on the arm that felt as natural as breathing. Soon your feet began to tire, and Aaron guided you to the nearest bench with one large hand at the small of your back. It was turning out to be another fairytale day, and he certainly fit the role of Prince Charming.

The two of you were just about to head off for your dinner reservation when his phone rang. You felt him tense instantly.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I really have to take this.”

A sinking feeling washed over you as you said “It’s okay, go ahead.”

Stepping a short distance away, he answered. You saw a look of disappointment wash over his previously smiling face. Closing the phone, he approached you, the bearer of bad news.

“That was the BAU. We caught a case. I am so incredibly sorry, Y/N. I’ve got to cancel our dinner. You know I would never want to cut things short, but my team needs me.”

The words hit you like a sharp stab right to the heart. Trying to hide the pain you asked, “When do you leave?”

“I can’t really give you any details right now, but I have to go as soon as possible. I’m so sorry. I’ll drive you home.”

The car ride back to your house was made in awkward silence. Dropping you off at the front door, he took both of your hands and looked deeply into your eyes, a look of sadness lingering on his brow. “I can’t tell you enough how sorry I am that things turned out this way. My job makes things difficult sometimes, but I swear as soon as I get back I will make it up to you.”

Feeling the genuine remorse in his tone, you responded, “It’s okay, Aaron, really. I understand. They need you. You should go.” And with that, he turned to get in the car and drove away.

Once he was out of sight, you rushed in and slammed the door, collapsing with your back against it and the tears started to flow. You knew it was selfish to cry about your ruined date when his job was so important, but you couldn’t help but be crushed. Everything had been going so well, and it was all dashed to pieces by a simple phone call.

You spent the next week wavering between worrying about Aaron’s safety and feeling sorry for yourself. You couldn’t help but wonder if things would be the same wonderful way they were before when he finally made it back. When day 9 passed and you’d still gotten no word from anyone, you began to believe that he’d already gotten back and just come to his senses and didn’t want to see you anymore.

You curled up on the couch that night, exhausted and emotionally drained. You were about to head upstairs and take off your makeup before heading to bed when there was a sudden knock at your front door.

Who could that possibly be at this hour? Looking through the peephole you see him standing there in the front porch lights, hands crossed behind his back and a sheepish grin on his face. Aaron Hotchner.

“Aaron, it’s 10:30 pm, what are you doing here? Are you crazy?”

“We just got back in from the case and I just couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see you,” he pleaded.

Before you could say anything more, he took a step forward, pulling you in. One arm snaked around your waist, his other hand twining in your hair as he pressed his lips to yours. Warm and gentle, but firm, it was absolutely breathtaking. As he pulled away, your heart raced with the thrill of the kiss.

“Been thinking about doing that all week,” he whispers. “Wait here, I have something else for you. Retreating down your driveway and opening the car door, he returned with beautiful bouquet of pale pink roses.

Handing them over with the sweetest look on his face he inquires, “Am I forgiven?”

Of course he is. Maybe you’ll get your happy ending after all.

Tag list: @ange-must-die @agenthotchner @yes-sir-hotchner @hotchner-carisi @hotchners-slut @arganfics @ladyreapermc

[zerotoxicdragon]

Decide doing Translation this fanfic from ao3

https://href.li/?https://archiveofourown.org/works/30040782

Some are mistake because google translation can be wrong…

False proposals remain proposals

— Grrr... That fucking KID! I swear next time I'm gonna put my hands on him and finally put him behind bars!

The few policemen who made the bad decision to accompany Inspector Nakamori on his way out to the bar had no choice but to increasingly seclude themselves in their seats in the face of the shouts of their superior. The only person present who seemed unfazed by the din of the man was nothing more or less than the one who organized this small event: the private detective himself Kogoro Mouri, who under the pretext of "it's your birthday" could convince the inspector and some poor devils of the squad to accompany him to one of his favorite bars in the city. Rather the only one who did not need to be convinced was Nakamori. The poor man was so stressed that he had not caught the famous thief in his last robbery two days ago that at the first moment he was offered a jug of alcohol he had already halved it.

- Sure, sure! the culprit interrupted him from his meeting, passing his arm through the neck of the birthday boy. You can worry about that thief another day, tonight is a night to drink!

While the only thing Kogoro was most likely looking for was a mate to get drunk, the officers said the peers couldn't help but think there was something more hidden beneath that "working friends" facade. The detective did not bother to respect the inspector's personal space, not only hugging him with one arm but also giving soft touches whenever he recounted something or a light jolt when the man appeared to stop responding briefly. For someone like Nakamori who considered their space very important... this acting just left them dumbfounded.

Now that you thought about it, haven't you been acting a little close lately?

"Ah, Kogoro..." Nakamori spoke, drunk enough not to remember his companion's last name but sober enough to remember

The detective just mumbled a weak "huh?" before looking at his watch on his wrist. He had to blink a couple of times to stop seeing cloudy and concentrate on the device needles, 1 PM? No, that was-

"One in the morning?" exclaimed suddenly, the adrenaline rush getting him a little drunk. Ran's gonna kill me if I come back so late!

Ran...? the inspector mumbled in confusion before connecting the pieces. Ran was his daughter. He also had a daughter who was probably waiting for him at home. Damn it, Aoko's probably in a rage...

The young cops just felt sorry for them. Like the young people they were, they could still stay at the bar for an extra hour. They did not want to go home, otherwise they would have offered to accompany either man to their homes.

"I'd better take a taxi," Kogoro quickly took his things and prepared to leave, before being stopped by Nakamori.

— Ah, Kogoro, we have to go in the same direction, do you think we could share that taxi?

"I don't see why not," he nodded. Let's go have one on the street, Ginzo.

The officers watched as the two men marched in step, Kogoro again playing his inspector by guiding him with one hand on his back.

Between the three of them looked at each other.

"Hey, don't you think...

— ...it will be possible...

— ...that remotely...

— ...Our inspector and Sleeping Kogoro are dating?

No one at the station seemed surprised to see Nakamori holed up in his office dealing with a powerful hangover. From the moment he entered the building with a face indicating that he was more eager to stay in his bed sleeping than to listen to the complaints of his superior, there was no person in the precinct who wanted to approach because of the fear of irritating him.

A small group of officers had gathered just outside his office, whispering to each other what appeared to be the latest new news from the precinct. The superintendent of Shintaro Chaki, well known for being almost always in a bad mood, was already fed up with his subordinates spending more time chatting like old gossips than concentrating on their daily chores; so he took the opportunity to appear behind the group to repress them.

— What is happening here? asked, very upset about the situation.

"Ah, superintendent! exclaimed the quartet of police among surprised and scared. We were just sharing the news with everyone.

— News? What news?

- You don't know? Inspector Nakamori and Sleeping Kogoro are dating! They are so close that they are even called by their names without honorees.

Of all the gossip I could have heard, the fact that Nakamori had gotten a new partner after so many years was really down the list.

"Oh, oh, oh, my head..."

Inside the Mouri detective agency, Conan watched something amusing as Kogoro bemoaned his hangover lying on his desk. The poor man found himself half-disheveled and with his suit badly worn and wrinkled, he was still wearing the same one from the night before.

"You're an amazing dad." Ran was still quarreling with his father, just as he had barely managed to set foot inside the house. First you're going to drink leaving us alone with Inspector Megure, then I stay up late waiting for you to come back and finally you decide to come back almost noon without even leaving a message on the phone or answering machine!

Yes, Kogoro loved his daughter very much, but the only thing he didn't need at the time was someone yelling at him in the ear at full volume.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she murmured as she massaged her temple. But I told you I don't remember anything from last night! I woke up an hour ago at a motel and I came straight here... I think my self yesterday was drunk enough not to remember where he lived and decided to sleep on the road.

The truth is that waking up there was a rather strange event. Few, very few, were the times when Kogoro did not remember how he had come home after having taken until he almost lost consciousness, but even on those occasions he always dawned in his comfortable bed. That's why it was so rare to have woken up in a motel relatively far from the agency, completely naked and also on the floor for having fallen out of a double bed. Worst of all, his body hurt. Moving, walking, anything was uncomfortable. And even if he was in his forties, there was no reason why Kogoro should feel sore after he had taken it.

"When I went to the front desk trying to pay for the room, the employee told me that I had nothing to worry about, that everything was paid for," she sighed. I wonder if anyone decided to guide me to a motel because he couldn't remember my address... he even bothered to fix everything.

Ran went on to berate his father, who simply tried to sink deeper and deeper into his desk to avoid feeling how every word drilled into his head. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when the agency's phone rang and, even if he was not in a position to take any cases, he immediately attended to escape even if it was an instant from his daughter.

— Detective Bureau Mouri, how can I help?

— Mouri-kun! a lively voice answered from the other side. I thought we were friends! I can't believe you didn't tell me something like this.

- Huh? answered in confusion. What the hell was Megure talking about? What was I supposed to tell you?

- Don't play dumb! -Inspector Megure's shout was so loud that even Ran and Conan across the room were able to hear it. How do you think I felt when I found out that one of my closest friends had started dating someone and he wasn't the one who told me?!

For one, two, three seconds.

"HUH?"

Ran had taken Conan to primary school and she was attending her own classes, so Kogoro was now alone at the agency. In theory he was to find himself alone, because in front of him, with his arms crossed and his frown frowned upon, a very annoying Ginzo Nakamori walked from side to side as if going from wall to wall would provide the solution to the problem in which they were.

"Then..." Kogoro began, making Nakamori stop for a moment to pay attention. Everyone in the police force believes that for some reason we are a couple.

"For any reason?" As I heard in the precinct, you couldn't keep your hands still! cried the inspector. Now my superior, Superintendent Chaki, wants me to take my "new partner" to lunch with him and his wife this Sunday!

Mouri snuck into his seat, looking to hide as much as possible from the elder's screams.

- W-but- why did you accept his invitation?

"I had a terrible hangover thanks to your departure last night! I could hardly tell what he was talking to me, I saw myself with no choice but to nod to everything he said. How do you expect that hours after I confirmed to my superior that I was dating, I would simply tell him that I didn't hear him for having the worst hangover of my life? Don't you know how unprofessional that is? I could be suspended!

The detective sighed. They were really in a difficult situation.

- Now what Inspector Megure said makes sense...said he.

"Huh?" What did Inspector Megure say?

- Ah! Well... apparently first he heard the rumors going around your division... And this morning I got a call from him saying that he happened to have to come early to the station and went by the Beika Motel, where he saw you come out first and within minutes of me from the place—he admitted something sad.

For a few seconds they both kept quiet.

But when I woke up in that room I was alone...

"Of course not!" I was just lying on the floor, probably because I fell somewhere in the night. That's why when you woke up you thought you were alone, you couldn't see me on the other side of the bed. Surely I woke up to the sound of the door when you left.

With a whimper of frustration, Nakamori dropped into one of the agency's sofas, too exhausted to think of all the problems that did nothing but pile up.

Everybody thinks we're dating, right? asked Kogoro, to which the eldest nodded. Then why don't we just go play along?

- Play along?

- You know! We had lunch with the superintendent and his wife over the weekend, pretended to keep going out for a couple more days and then we were done! Superintendent Chaki won't know you lied to him, Inspector Megure will continue to trust me, and the other officers will have something else to whisper about for the next two weeks.

Nakamori's first impression was to think that his companion had simply lost his mind. But the more he thought about his options, the only thing he saw possible was what Kogoro was saying. That showed how bad his situation was.

- Good! he resigned himself. On one condition. This will end as soon as possible after that damn lunch.

"Of course I do!" But I too must accept under one condition.

- But you were the one with the idea! Why should you demand something?

— But this must be beneficial to me too! "a sly smile was present on the detective's face." For all of us, we're just going out but there's nothing official yet, so... I want a great public proposal that can become a viral sensation! As today's young people would say: "Do it big or go home."

Nakamori was completely dumbfounded.

"Are you crazy?" Of course not! he growled. We don't have twenty years to do these things! Besides, why would someone like you care about something like that?

"Because," he interrupted, "you just have to think about this for a moment!" The fact that famous detective Mouri Kogoro starts dating one of Tokyo's most prestigious inspectors will be the most important news of the whole month! The public loves gossip," he continued. And, above all, gossip brings fame to those involved. My popularity will grow to the clouds!

For some reason, he wasn't surprised that someone like Kogoro had such a reason to stick with the plan.

— Also when we announce our separation, my mail will be filled with letters from nice girls who want to comfort me! In all those TV scandals it's always the fans who give support to their idols. I could even get an email from my dear Yoko-chan!

There was no choice but to accept.

Surprisingly, Ginzo's confession was a viral hit.

With the help of his daughter Aoko (who was more than happy to be able to participate in something like this) and his friend Kaito, the man managed to film a video in which, laden with gifts, flowers and alcohol, he appeared at the Mouri agency to declare his infinite love for the detective and how much he needed it.

By next morning all of Japan's newscasts were talking about the new Tokyo couple and how popular the two men had become.

Kogoro kept receiving letters from fans congratulating him on their relationship and a few of his love disappointments. Nakamori, meanwhile, was assisted by the detective to have lunch with Superintendent Chaki later that weekend. The man looked strangely happy during the event, even though at work he spent almost the whole day in bad temper it was clear he was quite sensitive to any love-related issue. He could even remember his words in firing the lovebirds in the afternoon: "I'm glad to know you can finally get by. I'm sure Mrs. Nakamori would agree that they make a beautiful couple."

Maybe that's why it was so hard to end that fake relationship after that. It just didn't feel right to do so soon.

The first few weeks Kogoro had taken the trouble to visit Nakamori when there was no customer to keep the farce and keep giving the impression of not-so-young lovers. At least that was his excuse at first, since one day he suddenly realized that the real reason for his visits was to spend as much time as possible with the inspector. More than staying home and watching some Yoko show, he longed more to travel to the police station and simply chat with his "partner" or accompany him until the moment he went home or had a beer at a nearby bar. Far from bothering him, Ginzo gradually began to appreciate every appearance of the detective in his precinct, even becoming disillusioned when he had no news of him for a whole day.

Within a month, when it was already quite safe to announce its breakup, another problem became present. And rather than being frustrated that they couldn't finish everything, deep down they were relieved.

"On the day of the sun, just as Artemis is at the highest point, I am going to take the jewel that is so jealously guarded in the heart of the city.

PD: I send a rose next to this notice to congratulate the inspector on his new relationship and to wish them well. I hope you both can attend my show to receive a surprise worthy of your love.

-Kaitou KID"

Kaitou KID's notices could not be kept secret for long, so just twelve hours after the police received it all the major Japanese media already announced the theft of the famous thief at the same time they used to revive the news of their romance and how they received blessings even from someone like KID. If they broke up now, they were only going to look bad.

The agreement was to wait a while longer after the robbery, until most had forgotten the subject and surprised them with the news of the separation.

But of course, nothing came out as they expected.

Boy, that white-gloved fucking thief had kept his word.

Kogoro ended up accompanying Nakamori to the Beika museum to protect the jewel and, even if he did not finish accepting it, because it had already become a custom for him to see his "partner" work. For some reason he loved to see how the man could control his squad with ease, admired the dedication he put to his work and really left a warm feeling in his chest when in his evening talks drinking at a Nakamori bar he confessed to him that there were few things he loved as much as his work. As promised, Kaitou KID showed up at midnight and stole the jewel in front of the entire police squad and mocking all the security measures taken. At the time of his escape, the thief activated a device that covered the museum's entire main room of confetti and colored papers, raining down even different types of colorful flowers. A bouquet of red roses fell right in front of the inspector, accompanied by a caption reading: "I wish you happiness." and signed by the typical KID cartoon stamp.

And, far from everyone forgetting their relationship, that event only served to make Japanese people want to know more about them and their personal lives. On several occasions the poor men had to deal with reporters and journalists who went to look for them at work or their home in an attempt to get an exclusive interview with one of the two most popular men of the moment. Of course Ginzo, being the professional he was, was always looking for an excuse to politely refuse and get rid of the annoying journalists.

Instead Kogoro...

"Why the hell did you agree to do that interview?" the inspector roared, whipping both hands hard at the desk where Kogoro worked.

- She was a very pretty girl! How could I refuse to receive it? he replied fearfully, aware at the time that perhaps giving an exclusive would not have been the best idea.

"But now all of Japan thinks we're getting married!"

Maybe during the interview the lie got out of hand...

- Sorry, sorry! he apologized over and over again.

Ginzo sighed. Now there was no chance of ending the farce and not being left as the biggest con artists in the whole country. He watched Kogoro give his speech about how he regretted talking to that girl, but he didn't really pay attention to what he was saying. For a few moments he let his mind wander.

Was this fake relationship worth breaking up?

Even if he was the one who was against the idea at first, at that moment the continuation with the detective didn't sound so bad. It could be a little loose, alcoholic, lazy, lazy... several of those were synonymous, right? But by interacting more personally with him over the last few months he had managed to see it in a new light. Aside from his daughter and a few co-workers, Nakamori now longed for someone else's company. Suddenly all the moments with Kogoro stopped being a nuisance to become something I was looking forward to. The subtle displays of public affection had ceased to be embarrassing to feel more special. And the congratulations they received at some point began to leave a warm feeling in his chest.

Would it be possible that...

Kogoro was shocked to receive a kiss on the lips, shutting his monolog instantly and covering his face with such intense red that anyone could mistake him for a tomato. Within seconds Ginzo parted, also blushing and breathing somewhat agitatedly.

- I'm withdrawing my condition. I don't want this deal to end anymore.

The detective still didn't know what to say, barely able to process what had just happened.

All I knew was that I agreed with the inspector.

— Do those journalists want a wedding? Then let's give her the best wedding in the whole region.

Before he could even give an affirmative, Nakamori had jumped at him again. And far from putting him away, the game followed.

[phantom-curve]

Mads I have to be annoying and send you another one of those prompts 😂 Platonic Alex & Reggie with "liberosis - the desire to care less about things"!

this was not the first prompt you sent in, but I had way too much fun exploring this dynamic and I couldn't resist doing this one before the others! set in the gimme a chance AU, please enjoy this deleted scene that takes place after chapter 4 ft. Alex and Reggie being completely Over It™️

liberosis - the desire to care less about things (Rated T+ for language and some slightly suggestive wording about Luke and Julie's relationship)

“Okay so like, we’re in agreement that this is just a weird thing we’re not gonna talk about, right?”

It was late. Alex had stumbled home from work completely drained and exhausted around 10 pm and Reggie had apparently been waiting up to have this conversation, work clothes still on, fingers restless as they twisted together in front of his body where he sat propped up against the couch, TV turned low and forgotten behind him. For a second, Alex wasn’t exactly sure what Reggie was talking about. And then he remembered it was Sunday. Which meant yesterday had been Saturday. And all of the stupid Luke drama he had been trying to ignore came flooding back.

“No, we’re not gonna talk about it,” Alex said firmly, meeting Reggie’s concerned gaze with a look that he hoped translated into I will literally talk about anything else but this right now. “Total radio silence as far as I’m concerned.”

“Cool, okay. Glad we’re on the same page.”

Reggie’s head dipped and bobbed as he nodded his agreement. Alex let out a sigh of relief as he hunched over to slip his work shoes off and stack them on the rack by the front door. Then, the air seemed to grow thick with some sort of unspoken tension. Alex felt it press against him like an old, uncomfortable sweater, itchy and oppressive against his chest. When he straightened once more, Reggie was waiting to meet his gaze head on. Clearly, they were gonna talk about it.

“I’m not alone in thinking it’s like...kinda weird, right?”

Alex sighed, the action bone deep and heavy in a way that only Luke’s shenanigans could make him feel. Reggie wasn’t wrong. It was kinda weird that Luke had been hiding this whole Julie thing from them. It was kinda weird that Luke had managed to pull it off at all, actually. The boy was not known for his subtlety. He had very clearly struck out with Julie the first time around, and yet somehow, he had managed to draw her back in. Alex could tell by the way Luke had stuttered and stammered over the whole thing the night before that he had been trying to keep it lowkey. As if that boy even knew the meaning of the word. Case in point: he hadn’t been able to play it cool for 5 seconds once she had started ignoring him.

“Yeah, Reg, it’s definitely kinda weird.”

“Oh, good, I’m really glad I’m not the only one who feels that way about it. Ya know, when I first figured it out, I was like, ‘okay maybe it’s just a one-time thing.’ But it’s not a one-time thing. Definitely not. And I just like...don’t understand why he isn’t talking about it? Why is he trying to pretend its no big deal? It’s obviously a big deal.”

Alex desperately wished he could go back in time and take Willie up on his offer to spend the night tonight if only to be able to avoid this uncomfortable word vomit that Reggie didn’t seem capable of stopping. If there was ever a can of worms that didn’t need to be opened, it was this one, focused on Luke’s love life and his interactions with Julie, and what all of that meant in the grand scheme of things. Alex did not have the time or patience to truly get into this right now, he really didn’t. Except Reggie was looking at him so expectantly, as if Alex would reach into his fanny pack and pull out a booklet of answers, and so he also couldn’t just leave the poor guy to obsess alone.

“Okay, so we’re gonna do this, yeah? We’re gonna talk about it? Lemme...lemme just like get some sweats on and make some dinner, okay?”

Reggie let out a deep breath that Alex hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever you need, Lex.”

Alex didn’t dawdle. This was not a conversation that was going to go away or be dismissed. Reggie needed to talk it out, and honestly, now that he thought about it, Alex kind of did, too. And not to someone like Willie who would grin and say, “can’t stop true love hot dog, gotta let them ride that wave and figure out if they’re gonna sink or swim on their own” and act all blasé about it. He needed to talk about it with someone like Reggie who, just like Alex, was in the unique position of being friends with Flynn and Carrie (which meant knowing just enough about Julie to have an idea of exactly why she would be so appealing to Luke) as well as being one of Luke’s brothers (which meant knowing him better than he knew himself sometimes). Together, they might be able to figure out if the two would be like oil and water or more like fire and gasoline. Reggie was the only person who could have that kind of discussion with him, so yeah, they were doing this.

Alex made quick work of cleaning off in the shower and switching his work clothes for sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. Reggie was still waiting on the couch, staring at the tv but not actually watching whatever was playing out on the 32-inch screen. He had managed to change out of his clothes and into some Star Wars themed pajamas though. Alex skirted around the couch edge so he could press a quick, reassuring hand against Reggie’s scalp as he made his way into the kitchen. Reggie’s eyes moved away from the screen to track his movements. Alex might be the one with anxiety, but Reggie needed more reassurance when it came to things that might end with his family falling apart in one way or another. Alex wasn’t about to let him get so worked up that he convinced himself this would be catalyst that ruined everything.

“Honestly, Reg, what are we even supposed to do here? You know he’s gonna keep seeing her no matter what we say.”

Alex tried to open the conversation gently, eyes fixed on his bowl as it revolved in circles inside the microwave. Reggie didn’t answer at first, not until the beep of Alex’s food being finished rang out in the small apartment. When he did speak, he sounded partly apologetic and partly resigned.

“I don’t know. I know I probably should have said something after last week but...he just seemed so happy. I didn’t wanna mess it up for him. But last night was weird and it didn’t feel good. I’m worried Luke’s on a one-way path to destruction and I don’t know if it’s gonna be because of Julie or because of Flynn.”

Alex tried not to let his face fall into his freshly warmed bowl of pasta as he pulled it from the microwave. He really, really did not want to think about the ways that Flynn would rip Luke to shreds when she found out what had been going on behind her back. He had learned two things about the pint-sized firecracker in the year or so that he had known her: don’t mess with Carrie and don’t mess with Julie. Luke had already kinda fucked up on one of those counts. He wasn’t super thrilled thinking about what her reaction might be when she discovered he had been messing around with the second one, and in a much bigger way, too. He turned to face Reggie, forced himself to soften his own anxiety when he caught sight of the nerves etched out in harsh lines across the bassist’s forehead. Deep breath in, deep breath out just like his therapist had taught him.

“Flynn is gonna react however she’s gonna react. We can’t control that. She’s gonna have Julie’s back no matter what so all we can do is watch out for Luke.”

Reggie was nodding along in agreement, features smoothing out now that there was something of a plan for him to follow. Alex swung himself onto a barstool, bowl in front of him as his mind turned over and over all the millions of ways this thing between Julie and Luke could go south. Reggie moved off of the couch, hesitating for just a moment before he walked over to lean against the island in the kitchen where Alex was doing his best not to spiral.

“I think he likes her. Like...like likes her.”

Reggie’s voice was quiet, like he was sharing some secret he had been sworn to silence over. Alex turned to look at him again, not entirely sure he wanted to believe it.

“Dude, we’re not in middle school. You hook up with people all the time and it never means more than a night of shared passion. Luke can do the same thing.”

The look Reggie leveled his way was nothing short of disbelieving, eyebrows raised so high they had practically disappeared into his hairline. Alex kinda had to hand it to him there. He didn’t really believe Luke actually could pull off a casual relationship, especially not with a girl like Julie who probably set every single one of his musical nerve endings on high alert. Reggie and Luke weren’t the same in that manner. Reggie wanted to give love and receive it in turn without any reservations or worries about the intent behind it. Just two people meeting in a mutually beneficial exchange and then moving on with their lives to find that again with someone else. Luke’s love was deliberate, a commitment. There was no way whatever he was doing was casual.

“Okay, okay. Put the eyebrows away already.”

Reggie’s face relaxed into something less concerned and more exhausted. Alex felt that all the way to the depths of his soul. Generally speaking, Luke was pretty exhausting. And he was even more exhausting when he wasn’t taking care of himself in order to take care of someone else, in this case: Julie. Alex scooped up his bowl of pasta and tucked an arm around Reggie’s shoulders, guiding both of them to the couch. The tv was still playing something Alex couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to, but the low hum of voices in the background made the apartment feel a little less cold and quiet. Alex shoveled a bite of pasta into his mouth, chewing slowly and deliberately before he turned to face Reggie once more.

“Look, we don’t actually have any control over any of this shit. We know how Luke is, and we kinda know what’s up with Julie, but we can’t stop them from interacting or scare them off from each other. As much as it sucks, I think we gotta just ride this one out. And if Luke gets hurt, we’ll be here to patch him up and love him through it.”

Alex blinked in surprise, not actually sure those words had just come out of his mouth. By the way Reggie was studying him, he wasn’t sure the other boy could believe it either. Then, Reggie’s lips curved into a knowing smirk.

“Willie’s been rubbing off on you. All that therapy and go with the flow shit. You’re like a whole new drummer boy.”

Alex guffawed and reached over to shove Reggie playfully, being sure to keep his now empty bowl clear of the scuffle. Reggie ducked around his outstretched arm, sneaking under to poke at Alex’s side in a way that had him twisting and nearly falling off the couch.

“Jeez, Uncle, Uncle! Fuckin hell, man, no need to go straight for the tickle spots.”

Reggie huffed out a laugh, collapsing back into the couch next to Alex. They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, the only sound the canned laughter and predictable lines of the tv show.

“Hey, Lex?”

Alex hummed and rolled his head to meet Reggie’s eyes.

“Do you ever wish you just like...didn’t care so much about everything?”

Alex’s laugh echoed above the sound of the tv. He leaned into Reggie’s side, letting the familiar comfort wash over him.

“All the time, Reg. Literally, all the fucking time.”

[oftenderweapons]

Apple Of My Pie (6) — Jin

A Small Town Swoons story

Chapter 6.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Buttercup)

Wordcount: 3.8k

Genre: non-idol!AU, Baker/Café owner!Seokjin, University student!reader Flatmates!AU, Friends To Lovers; angst, very little fluff

Rating: suggested 18+ for future smut and swearing

A/N: Hello my cupcakes! Welcome to the Small Town Swoon Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: Jin and Buttercup have been apart for a while. Both mourn for their separation, Buttercup nursed by the attentive care of Jeongguk and Yoongi, while Seokjin prefers dwelling on his feelings in solitude. In the deepest darkness, some sense finally sheds a light, thanks to the words of an unexpected ally. 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Swearing. Both jin and Buttercup are underfed, which leads to a sense of coldness and numbness, fatigue and haziness that are mentioned in the fic. 

Remember to vote for next prompt (check the link in my bio) and in case you need it, here’s my masterlist 💜

If you’d like some company, here is the music companion (Spotify only, sorry 😔)

Enjoy ✨💜

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

He missed you.

He missed you a lot.

He missed you waking up at two am to raid the kitchen. He missed hearing your laugh from across the apartment while you watched something.

He missed hearing you ramble on and on about literature in your own room as you studied your lessons, he missed breakfast together, he missed waking up at two pm after a night shift and having late lunch together after you came back from your lessons. He missed making you hot cocoa, watching films together, having dinner, talking about boring stuff.

He missed you.

He had been missing you for two weeks now, and soon they would become three.

Nineteen days. In a few hours he would have to handle one more Saturday dinner alone, one more Saturday night without watching a film with you on the sofa. And then another Sunday morning when he would cook too much food and end up bringing it to Taehyung.

Nineteen days.

That’s how long you had been missing.

And every time he came back home, one more piece of you disappeared. Your toiletries had vanished on that unfortunate Sunday. That inglorious, tragic Sunday, when he was still too confused to understand the end had started.

On Monday, the first few books were gone; your currently reading novels, usually abandoned on the coffee table, had disappeared.

Next your blanket, the one his granny had gifted you for your first Christmas away from home. That was on Tuesday, with some more books.

The emptiness he had prayed for ever since he had decided he needed to fall out of love with you was slowly conquering the apartment. The same emptiness, once a welcome feeling in his mind, now manifested in his heart as a slow, ruthless strangling, the one where you know exactly what is happening, and you feel every cell of your body oppose, fight for oxygen, like a person clawing at the offender’s fingers tightening around their throat.

He felt like he was drowning, inch by inch, unfathomably.

He rang the door bell.

A disturbingly sweet scent of tuberose met his nostrils. He flinched.

“Hi, come in!”

“We can order in some pizza or I could make pasta. Or risotto.” Jeongguk sat beside you, stealing your book and putting it down. “You need to eat, Sweets.”

You shook your head. “I’m okay, I’m just not in the mood.”

“Just a little, come on. Make me happy.” He begged, looking at you with those eyes that made it impossible to deny him.

“Okay. Just a little, though, I’m really… Not okay.” You admitted, snuggling up next to Bibby, his torso pillowing your head.

He scared you with a sneeze before you both settled down again. The dog had become your shadow, following you everywhere, as if he could sense your deep need for affection and support.

Jeongguk nodded. “Can you handle a baby pizza? We can eat the leftovers tomorrow for breakfast,” he mused, letting you know it was okay even if you didn’t finish your food.

He just wanted you to eat.

You were cold all the time, your teeth always clattering, your body so weak after days of eating the very minimum to stay alive and studying.

In the last few days you had even given up on attending university, your friends and study buddies sending you the recordings of the lessons. One of your teachers had even noticed your absence and Lara had diligently made up an excuse, saying you had caught a bad flu and that you were slowly recovering.

“Lemme call the pizza place.” Jeongguk cupped your cheek, studying your face, so pale, your eyes, so tired.

You nodded.

Jeongguk sat up and called. “Hi, it’s me. Yeah, can I have a baby Margherita in ten? I know, it’s Friday and rush hour, just a baby Margherita… You’re the best. Yes, I’ll bring you candies. Go to work. Yeah, bye.”

You blinked a few times, quite surprised at Jeongguk’s relaxed tone as he talked to the person on the phone.

“It’ll be here soon. Why don’t you rest your eyes a little. You need that, Sweets.” He reminded you.

He could be so apprehensive, so caring and observant.

He seemed to know everything, the same way Jin did. Still, you were far from feeling for Jeongguk the things you felt for Jin. It felt like that path you had walked to Seokjin would never lead you to Jeongguk, though you had considered.

It wasn’t a matter of food, or time, or affection or care. It was something deeper, deeper than attraction and spending time together and laughing at the same jokes.

It was as if your soul didn’t feel at home in his space, like it could never inhabit his body the way it inhabited yours. Or Seokjin’s.

You closed your eyes.

“Good for you.” Jeongguk said, fixing the blanket around you, adding an extra one for your feet, knowing that they always got cold.

“She’s sleeping.”

“Does she sleep a lot?”

“Quite a lot, yes.”

“Did she lose weight?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“Does she eat, even just a little?”

“When I’m around, yes, but I’m not usually home for lunch. I’m pretty sure she eats breakfast and dinner. Very little food, but at least she eats.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Yoongi, she’s trying.”

You could hear some voices from the kitchen table, but you refused to open your eyes. You could recognise them with your eyes closed anyway.

Spice’s voice appeared. “I bet she’s exhausted. He looked bad too. They’re hurting so bad, both of them.”

“They had chances, Spice. They turned them down. Maybe they’ll learn the lesson.” Yoongi said coldly.

“Not everyone is like us, baby. They’re taking their time.” Spice calmed him down.

“They won’t have forever.” Yoongi objected with a slight growl in his voice.

Jeongguk stared as Spice brought an arm around Yoongi’s shoulders, pulling him into her chest. She knew it was his history making him speak with so much anger and tension. “If it doesn’t happen, then they’re not meant to be.”

Yoongi relaxed a little. “If they aren’t, then I don’t know who is.”

Spice shook her head. “They’ll work it out.”

Jeongguk placed his head against his hands. “She’s just freezing cold, all the time.”

“You mean her body temperature or her mood?” Yoongi questioned.

“Her temperature.”

Yoongi tutted. “Give her more sugars. She needs fruit and honey and chocolate. Keep those on the coffee table so you can keep them in check, see if she eats.”

“Sure thing.”

“Has she seen him?” Spice asked, still holding Yoongi’s hand.

“No. I don’t think so. Lara tells her when he’s at the bakery so she can go home and get what she needs.” Jeongguk replied.

Yoongi breathed heavily. You could tell it was him by the way his exhale was drenched in exasperation. “That man. He will drive me mad. He’s so stupid.”

“He has a girl—”

“Which in my opinion he should have never had.” Yoongi commented.

“It’s his choice, Yoongi. He fucked up. I’m here for her.” Jeongguk objected. “I’m her friend.”

“You had feeli—”

“I had them. In the past. You know how this works, Yoongi. How it works for me. She’s never been it. I’ll know when the right one comes.” Jeongguk stated, as determined as ever.

“Then learn the lesson from that fucker and when she comes, tell her what she means to you.” Yoongi said, squeezing Spice’s hand in his.

“I’ll tell her so much she’ll get tired of it.” Jeongguk affirmed with the solemn tone of promises.

Spice squeezed Yoongi’s hand in return. “We never get tired of hearing that.”

Yoongi’s eyes met those of his lover, friend and partner. “We never do.” He said, like a whispered secret to his beloved.

Jeongguk smiled at the exchange. That was his goal. Finding something like that, like what he saw between his friends, right in that moment.

“Should I wake her?” He asked, musing about your situation.

Yoongi got out of his bubble and replied quickly. “Yes. Try keeping her close to a proper sleeping schedule. Her body is spread thin right now, so she’ll need naps, but don’t let those last too long.” The man instructed. “If it doesn’t get better in two weeks, then we’ll need to get proper help. You know there’s not much I can do since I’m connected to both. I cannot be professional about it.” Yoongi explained. “I have a uni colleague who practices and who could help her, were this to continue.”

“Thank you, Yoongi.”

“All cool, kid. Text me when she’s up. Tell her to call me if you see she’s ready.”

Jeongguk nodded, “I’ll have her call you.”

“Yeah, just don’t force her,” Yoongi replied, standing up and wearing his coat. “Spice and I will be out of town next weekend. Just so you know.”

Jeongguk smiled, “thank you for telling me.”

“Wake her and feed her.” Yoongi said, walking to the door, Spice following him closely. She watched as Yoongi’s eyes looked for your sleeping form. “Tell her we love her a lot. That she needs to be strong and healthy to explore the woods with Joon and to help us with spring pies.” Yoongi shook his head. “Maybe ignore the pies.”

Jeongguk nodded. “Joon will bring her to the cottage soon. I’ll be having a busy week starting Monday.”

“Great. See you, Gukkie.” Yoongi said, finally ready to leave.

From the smell of coffee and leather, you felt what could only be Spice’s hand touching your face. “Stay safe, baby.” She told you, still thinking you were asleep.

Underneath all those layers, Spice was a sweetheart, after all. It made your heart clench.

“Bye Guk.” She said, shortly before you heard the door close.

He sat beside you and Bibby. “Open your eyes, Sweets. You need to eat your dinner.”

You pouted and stretched, sitting up. “I’m going to the cottage?”

“Namjoon will pass by on Sunday to pick you up.” Jeongguk said, incapable of hiding some envy. He wanted to go to the cottage too. It was beautiful to see how much a day can make a difference in the woods in spring.

You nodded, already comforted by the thought of sharing some time with one of the people you respected and trusted the most, in his lovely cottage, among his plants and paintings and books. It was the most healing place in the universe. “Can I have some pizza?” You asked, sniffing at the inviting scent in the air.

Jeongguk smiled at your question, significantly happy with your request. “Of course.”

“How are you? Did you sleep a little?” Grace asked, getting a glass of water and some biscuits for Seokjin.

He smiled at the young woman but sneered at the food, almost hissing. He felt ready to throw up his guts. He felt disgusting.

“Not much.” He said, rubbing his arms. He felt so cold.

Grace shook her head. “You should eat.”

Seokjin looked out of the window, the orange afternoon sun hurting his eyes. Two more hours. Saturday dinner alone. He tried to find the words, the right words.

He realised there weren’t any.

“I miss her, Grace.” Jin placed his elbows on the table and planted his forehead against his palms. “I miss her too much.”

Grace nodded and stood up. She walked to the window and stood there, with her back to Jin. “Everyone. Everyone in this town knows. Everyone.” She paused. Seokjin waited. She didn’t speak with anger or sadness. She simply spoke, like one who knew.

“Everyone knows about you and her, about how perfect you look together. But she didn’t even consider you. You always cared for her, but who cared for you? Who made breakfast and dinner and the laundry and the cleaning for you?” Grace seemed upset now. “She never made a move, though. Everyone knew, but sometimes only one person really, actually knows.” She turned around. She had a small smile on, a bitter one, maybe. “Because you weren’t hers, I made a move. And I never expected you would take me into consideration, all the girls — and the boys — who have tried never succeeded. How would I?” Again she paused. “But I did it. Somehow.”

Seokjin nodded. “You are a great person, Grace. You’re smart, kind, beautiful. And you’re dedicated, and I was attracted to you since the first time I saw you.”

“But I’m not her, am I?” She said, so gentle; the kind of gentleness that you use with strangers, to keep them at a distance.

“You’re not her, and there are pros and cons to this, just like for any other people.” Seokjin replied politely.

Grace nodded as she paced back and forth. She grabbed a biscuit and she ate it unhurriedly, still pacing, chewing it slowly.

“I tried to move on.” Seokjin explained, “but maybe I’m not ready.”

Grace bobbed her head. “Fair. After all I could be only a carer.” She admitted. “I think I took pity on you, but never truly loved you.” Her expression looked sad but honest.

Seokjin pursed his lips. “We both deserve better than dull pity, may it be giving or receiving.”

“I thought pity would suffice. We could be great friends and then grow into something more than that. But some friendships don’t evolve like the one you have with her.” Grace sat down in front of her guest. Her boyfriend. Soon to be her ex.

Their time together was coming to an end, each second inevitable like the ticking of the clock.

“I hope you don’t feel insulted, or disrespected.” Seokjin confessed, his tone of voice extremely apologetic.

“We both got into this with the wrong intentions. I think we both deserve the best and we clearly will not get it from each other. You need her, and I'm just a detour on your way to her—”

“Please, don't think that I didn't care about you.” He said, with so much pain in his voice. He was so disappointed in himself.

“I know you cared. Maybe you still care, but I know you wouldn't be here if she were an option.” Grace said, her voice honest, a bit harsh maybe, but with no suffering or aggression.

“Don't think I chose you because I couldn't have her. Among several options, I still chose you, because you were the one I liked the most, because I could fall in love with you. And I still like you, but I didn't fall. And I'm not sure that will happen.” Seokjin spoke with transparent unequivocality.

“It would be stupid for us to continue down this path. We would just lie to each other, unless we accept that our relationship will be based on fondness and nothing more.” Grace explained clearly.

Seokjin pouted. “We're too young for fondness.”

“We are.” Grace agreed. “But you need to tell her, Jin. You must tell her. You're hurting for a separation you could have absolutely avoided. At least, if you have to suffer, do it for the right reason.” Grace had a clarity in her that Seokjin had come to respect. He knew someone would love it someday. Someone would take care of her and cherish her and adore her and worship her with her gifts and imperfections. Someone could even love the scent of tuberoses that always lingered on her skin.

“I think we're ready to say goodbye.” She mused. “Although I would love it if we could still be friendly around each other. I don't wanna say 'let's stay friends' because that could be hypocritical of me right now, but I think I'd be very happy if we could still say hi and chat at the bakery when I stop by.”

“I think I'd be proud to call you my friend, when you feel ready for that. Still, you don't have to do that. I understand I hurt you—”

“No offense, but you didn't hurt me. I already knew what I was getting myself into. I think I've always known you would never be mine. A part of me was ready for this to happen and I think that's what's keeping this from being hurtful or insulting or whatever. We have been clear from the very start.”

“I wasn't clear about her.” Seokjin's eyes watered. He felt like he didn't deserve Grace's mercy and understanding.

“Anyone and everyone could tell. You were clear with anything but words. Plus I knew, and still I let it happen.” Grace took Seokjin's hand in hers. “It's not your fault. You're not alone.”

He didn't know when it happened but somehow he was crying, weeping like a baby, sobbing and sniffling.

Grace rose and walked to his chair, standing behind him, placing both her hands on his shoulders, rubbing them energetically. “You’re gonna be alright, Jin. Just go and fix all this mess with her. Talk to her please or I swear I'm gonna hate you. Don't make all this pain useless.” The young woman hugged him and kissed his head. “Stop telling yourself you don't deserve her. Stop being paranoid about her turning you down. Have you ever considered her giving you a chance?” She spoke with a soothing tone, something that he knew would make her a great mother someday. He could see himself kicking his own butt and begging Grace to take him back, were he ever to learn how to love her.

However, a part of his brain told him that loving Grace was something he could never learn, just like he never had to learn how to love you.

“You're one smart, beautiful woman, you know?” He asked, patting Grace's hands with his. “I hope you get someone who can love you the way you need.”

Grace nodded. “The same to you, dear. Now go get your lady or I'm going to castrate you.”

He squeaked out a teary laugh before standing up. “Are you okay with me hugging you?”

She smiled and nodded.

The embrace held for maybe half a minute before she whispered 'go, quick', like her gut was telling her something.

Seokjin smiled before winking and running out of the building.

You were grateful for the umbrella. You knew that soon the light drizzle would become a full storm and with all your heart you hoped you had enough time to carry your stuff to Yoongi’s pub, Ginger’s, and save yourself from the rain.

You were eager to get your stuff ready. All you wanted was for it to be Sunday already, for the energy of the woods to restore your soul and offer a safe haven to your mourning body.

You wanted the slightly damp spring days, the blossoms on the trees and the light green new leaves. You longed to see the lawns become once more verdant, filled with daisies and the frolicking of bees and butterflies.

However, for now you were stuck in the cold, humid weather, not a hint of spring in sight.

With a slight pout you entered your building, climbing the stairs in a path you could walk with your eyes closed.

The keys indented your skin uncomfortably, your hold too tight.

You slipped the right one in quickly, trying to make the errand as brief as possible.

Once you entered, you took off your shoes. You didn’t want to stain Seokjin’s floor, especially considering how he always took care of it, spending extra time in treating the hardwood boards with special products to keep them glossy and vibrant in their splendid maroon colour.

You completely avoided looking at the kitchen, walking to your room and finding the last bag of clothes resting on the bed, still made with three-week-old sheets. You wondered whether it was a good idea for you to wash them, but once you were reminded you would be gone for a whole week, maybe more, you shook your head and went on with your tasks, cleaning up your desk once you noticed the dust on it.

Your tiny bookcase was halfway empty, the only things left some old books you read during your first year and tiny trinkets.

A can of cherry coke from your first trip to the lake with the guys; a tattoo Jeongguk had designed for you a long time ago, waiting for you to finally find the guts to get it done; granny’s recipe for her special apple pie; a picture of you and Seokjin at the bakery’s fiftieth anniversary, a small buttercup flower dried and pressed into the framed picture; another photo, this one from your birthday, the guys surrounding you in a group hug, and Seokjin staring from the distance, his eyes glimmering with something your mouth will never speak.

You were slowly spiralling into despair when you heard the door unlock.

Dread grabbed your insides and twisted them tight, your hands unconsciously snatching the bag, switching off the lights before you tried to run out of your room, hoping it was just a projection of your exhausted brain.

It wasn’t.

There, on the entry mat stood Seokjin, drenched head to toe.

You stared at each other for a second.

“Hi.” He said.

He looked a mess. “Are you alright?”

He bent forward, his hands on his knees, his chest heaving with laboured breathing as he shook his head.

He knelt on the floor.

He shook his head some more.

You stood paralysed in front of him.

“I could use a friend.” He whispered, right before you dropped your bag and fell to your knees right in front of him, pressing his face to your chest. “You said you would never leave me alone. You promised.” He sobbed, hugging you to his body. “You promised.” He repeated, your clothes getting wet as they touched his.

“I’m sorry Jinnie. I’m so sorry, honey.” You replied, tearing up yourself. “Come in, let’s get you warm and dry.”

He refused. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going, Jinnie. Come in.” You spoke softly.

“Swear on your cocoa that you won’t leave.” He required.

“I swear on the cocoa, now please come in, I don’t want you to catch a cold, Jin. Please.”

Reluctantly he followed your lead.

“You should get changed.” You said, cupping his cheek as the two of you stood one in front of the other.

His skin felt too hot.

“I don’t want to get you out of my sight.” He said, hugging you again.

You were both drenched by now. “We both need to get changed.”

He pouted. “You get in the bathroom. I wait outside. I can get changed while you’re in.” He said, sure that you were too smart — and too lazy — to jump out of the window.

“I won’t run.” You said, trying to reassure him.

“What if you change your mind?” He insinuated with an accusing, hurt tone.

You gave up. “Okay, I’ll get changed in the bathroom.” You conceded, grabbing your duffel bag and walking in the room, closing the door behind you.

You changed quickly, trying to show him you were invested in staying as little away from him as possible.

“I’m ready.” You called, waiting to open the door. You didn’t want to see something you weren’t meant to.

“Yes, you can come out.” He said.

As you opened the door, the first thing you noticed was his bare chest, wide, immense before your eyes.

You averted your gaze as he slipped on a sweater. He hugged you again. “I’m cold.” He murmured.

Your heart couldn’t handle that. “Let’s get on the sofa.”

“I don’t have a blanket anymore.” He said, looking at you with eyes so big, so lost and emotional.

You shook your head and entered his bedroom, grabbing his comforter carelessly. “Let’s go.”

He smiled and followed you, sitting down and dragging you onto his lap.

“Seokjin.” You reprimanded, thinking of the last time you had seen him.

“What?” He asked, fixing the covers around the two of you, holding you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe.

“What about Grace.” You said, not even a question, just a distant, unemotional statement.

“No more. I left her, Buttercup.” He said, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “I left her.”

You smelled so good.

You always smelled so good.

He kissed your neck. You tasted good too.

“Jinnie.”

“We’ll talk in the morning. I just need to sleep next to you. Please, Buttercup.” He begged, so tired and so adorably undeniable.

“Let’s sleep then.”

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

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

[hazbbyhaz]

sleepless || harry styles

eleven

pairing: Harry Styles x OC

synopsis: the cycle continues

disclaimer: slander of ones self, mention of pills

No word of mine will ever hurt you

Avery didn't talk to Harry for the rest of the week. He didn't contact her and she wasn't brave enough to reach out to him. Her mind immediately thought that he'd gotten bored of her. If she was honest with herself, she knew that this would happen eventually. She's just glad it happened before she grew more attached to the boy.

She already found herself being attached to him a small bit. It was easy for her. As a child, she would cling to anyone who showed her the slightest bit of love and affection, all just to be disappointed again. She had tried to be more distant with people, less open, but that plan didn't go too well. As if her mind wanted her to be hurt over and over again and accepted this as her life. Just because it was familiar didn't mean it hurt less.

Avery worked every day this week at the cafe. Tom was still worried about finances, he had told her not to worry about it, so she tried her best not to. He was on the search for a new employee and had asked her if she had any friends that were in need of a job, She had told him that she would ask around, leaving out the fact that she had no one to ask.

She imagines asking Harry as a joke but decides against it soon after. Not wanting to reach out to him in case he didn't want to hear from her. On Wednesday night, she found herself standing outside of Sam's front door. Her tiny fist raised, ready to knock, but her heartbeat had suddenly gone so loud she ran back to her apartment.

She had gotten used to having Harry around. Even if he hadn't been around long, this was the first time that she had someone to talk to. That night just felt so different with no one around. Even Sam would have been enough to satisfy her need for human contact, but that didn't end up working out. Normally, being alone never bothered her, but lately, her heart ached for the company.

Today was Sunday, making it day four with no sleep, with the exception of a few hour long naps here and there. The world record for the longest consecutive hours of no sleep was 264, just over eleven days. Though she was nowhere even close to that, she was beyond tired. Her whole begging constantly begging for rest, but her mind kept on racing and racing. She knew that closing her eyes meant eight hours of terror, eight hours of being a child again, eight hours of being back at that godforsaken house.

After eight cups of coffee, her body started to shake. “You're pathetic.” She told the girl in the mirror. “Look at you.”

So, she left her flat at 8 pm. Wandering through the streets of London, the cool air calming her down enough to think straight. She watched all the groups of people pass her. Friends and couples having the time of their lives. It brought a small smile to her face.

As the night grew, it only got colder. She made her way back home at around 10 pm. “Tomorrow you have work, Avery. You'll have something to do, get your mind off of things.” She always enjoyed working at the cafe. It wasn't as successful as Tom had hoped when he originally opened his doors, but they had people come there every day. Somewhere regulars and some only stopped by every once and awhile.

On the steps of her apartment building sat Harry. His hair was a mess, strewn about messily. He adorned a pair of black jeans and a dark green hoodie.

“What are you doing here?” He didn't say anything at first, thinking about how he wanted to respond. “What happened to you?”

“I was out walking and thought I'd drop by.” He said with a shrug. “Can I come in?”

She unlocked the door, letting him inside without another word. He looks around her flat like he did the first time he had been there. Letting everything sink in. Avery lets her jacket fall to the floor and turns on the kettle, grabbing two peppermint tea bags out of the cabinet.

“When was the last time you slept?” Harry breaks the silence. He was sitting in front of the piano, hands dancing across the keys without letting the weight of his fingers push down on them.

“Why does that matter?’’

“You don't look good…” His eyes were fixed on her every move. “You look tired, and a bit sick.”

“Wow, thanks, Harry. You really know how to compliment a girl.”

“Ave…’’ He sighs, turning his attention back to the piano. After the water started boiling, Avery placed two tea bags into their cups and poured the hot water over top. She made her way to the living room, setting Harry's cup on top of the piano.

“Why won’t you let yourself rest?”

She takes a deep breath and a sip of her tea before leaning her head back, staring up at the ceiling. “I get really bad nightmares.”

“That's why you won’t go to sleep?”

“They scare me. A lot.” She whispers with closed eyes. Harry was right. Avery looked sick and exhausted. Of course, there were weeks that things were better. She got more sleep at night with the occasional afternoon nap, but things hadn't been like that for months now. She didn't know if it was the weather, or the cold season, or maybe even the crying child she had seen on her way home a couple of weeks back, but she knew that things were only getting worse.

“How about I stay here and you sleep? So when you have a nightmare, I can wake you.” Harry suggests. She feels the sofa dip beside her, signaling he had sat down next to her.

“You don't want to be here when I have a nightmare.”

“I really don't care, Ave. Come on. You need to get some sleep, otherwise, you are gonna drop dead somewhere.”

It was hard for her to open her eyes, it took way more energy than it should have. When she did, Harry's eyes were fixed on her. His eyes were so soft, so full of sympathy and utter kindness, that she found herself agreeing.

“Okay… but wait here a second.” She sped off to the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, she found the bottle of valerian pills, taking three of them before going back to the living room. She knew that she wouldn't be falling asleep without them.

“Don’t wake me if I have a nightmare, okay?”

Harry looked at her with total confusion. “What? Why?”

“Just... please don’t wake me. you have to promise me.”

He seemed unsure for a second, contemplating his decisions, he soon nodded. “Okay, I promise.”

Avery went to her bedroom and closed the door, the valerian slowly taking effect. And as she closed her eyes and her mind finally quieted, she heard the sounds of a piano being played softly in the background.

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@magicalmongerherringfan @serenametanoia

[infinites-chaser]

today, this is the whole universe (and that’s okay) | mlqc | gavin/mc | domestic fluff

Gavin and MC spend a sleepy Sunday together.

The first rays of warm, buttery dawn light are  barely brushing the edges of the half-open blinds when Gavin stirs, eyes blinking open, mouth stretching wide in a quiet yawn, MC still fast  asleep in his arms, her hair like a soft silk blanket across his chest. Carefully, trying his best to not disturb her, he reaches over her head  to grab at the top of the nightstand, where both their phones sit,  charging, hers quiet, his buzzing softly but insistently with his morning alarm.

With an easy, practiced swipe, he silences it, placing it next to hers once more. He brings his hand back to caress her cheek, then begins the slow process of freeing his body by gently shifting her onto the bed itself. At his touch, she murmurs something. Soft and unintelligible as it is, it still manages to bring a small  smile to his face.

For a moment, he lets himself lie there, thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbones, the edge of her lips, lets the warm rise and fall of her chest and the beat of her heart in time with  his complete him— she's the only peace he’ll ever want, the only peace  he thinks he’ll ever need.

Another alarm sets his phone off, and the moment’s over. But as he reaches to silence his phone again, MC stirs, turning her head just the slightest so her lips brush the tip of his thumb.

“What time is it?” comes her sleepy mumble.

“Just past five.”

He  lets his phone fall back onto the nightstand, pulls her close as she wriggles around in his arms to bring her face to his, their noses a breath apart.

“I was about to go on my morning run,” he explains. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. The sun did.”

As  she shakes her head, their noses bump. He laughs, and feels the gentle  tremor of her laughter, too: warmth and light given voice, given music.  He presses a kiss to her forehead and she smiles, eyes curling into little half-moons, then slipping closed.

“Go back to sleep,” he says, stifling another laugh. “You had a late night.”

“Did not.”

Her eyes are still closed, but she’s grinning. He scoffs.

“Did too.”

He’s expecting another, more indignant did not, but a long minute passes, and her breathing evens out, the grin on her face softening to a gentle smile as her head pillows in the crook of his arm.

Good, he thinks, even as he’s trapped by her again. She needs the sleep more than he needs to run.

She’d been up past midnight the night before, despite it being a weekend— the company had wrapped shooting for the next installment of City News late Friday night, but Minor, who was slated to edit the footage, had come down with a cold, and she’d volunteered to do it instead. Twenty-five hours and many a frustrated moment later, she’d finished, with Gavin doing his best to support and not hover the whole while (Though in his defense, even if he hadn’t actually had a case report to work on at the table, too, she’d appreciated the constant supply of coffee he’d provided her, and had eaten the meals he’d tried to make for her).

He’d chastise her for it, a short, well-intentioned lecture about how she really should consider herself and her own health before taking on even  more work and responsibilities, but he’s sure the same could be said  about him, too. And, exhausted as she may be, he knows she’d have been equally stressed had the work gone to someone else, and now she’s  finished, and satisfied with the work she’s done, so really, more than  anything else, he’s proud of her.

Now she has all of Sunday to rest— and even if it means sleeping half the morning away, he’s glad to  be with her while she does it.

The sound of her breathing, slow and even, lulls him back into a light sleep until seven am, when the summer sunlight streaming in through the blinds is blanketing the  bottom half of the bed, too bright for him to ignore. He drops a kiss on  the top of MC’s hair before carefully sliding out from under her, and  this time she’s sleeping so deeply that she doesn’t stir, not even when he settles her head atop a pillow, and pulls the sheets a little more tightly around her to make up for his absent warmth.

Despite how  bright it is outside— too bright, and therefore too hot, he decides, for  a run— the kitchen floor’s cool under his feet, even through the soles of his slippers.

Hot coffee it is, he thinks, filling  up the well-used coffee machine, then poking around in the pantry for  the jar of grounds, only to find it’s nearly empty. There’s enough  coffee for two more cups, maybe three, but he makes a mental note to buy  more the next time they’re out shopping.

While the coffee brews, he crosses the kitchen to open the fridge, then frowns at its contents. Shopping will have to be soon, there’s not much left in it, either, but  for now, it’ll do.

The coffee machine beeps, satisfied after filling the first mug to the brim. He takes it, though the first cup’s  normally for MC, gulps down a few sips with a grimace, then stirs in two sugars— it’s how she likes hers, he’s used to taking his black, but it seems her sweet tooth’s contagious.

In the time it takes her to finally wake up, he manages to prepare brunch with whatever’s left in the fridge. The cornerstone, of course, is the coffee, in the second of their matching mugs, as sweet as she likes it, two sugars, no milk. There’s a blueberry muffin he leaves her, and he fries up a couple  of eggs, puts them on some toast with butter and jam as options for spreads, then adds the last of the strawberries, tries to make the whole thing presentable, or at the very least, vaguely cute, if only because it’ll put the brightest smile on her face when she sees it.

It  does— her sleepy eyes widen as she first takes the sight of the laden tray in, then comprehension lights her whole face up, and her lips stretch into a still-tired, but broad grin.

“Gavin,” she protests even as he slides back into bed next to her, stealing a kiss, “you shouldn’t have!”

He smiles, tapping the rim of his mug to hers as she takes a big sip, then sighs, content.

“It’s only because you went to sleep so late last night. I had to.”

“It wasn’t that late! And it’s only because it was a lot of work that I didn’t wake up ‘til now.”

‘Wasn’t that late’ is two am and ‘now’ is one pm, and he points both out with a chuckle. She pouts, hiding behind another sip of coffee.

“I’ll go to sleep earlier from now on!” She vows.

“How early?”

“Um, one am?”

“That’s not early enough.”

He flicks her forehead and frowns, but she only laughs.

Despite his worry and gentle admonition, though, he can’t say he minds this at all: a weekend afternoon spent in bed, no deadlines or stress to think  of, just her smile, her warm laugh and the bright summer sun in the  window, a universe they’ve created between the folds of the covers, a universe of breakfast smells, soft pillows, and coffee, a universe just for them.

Dinner, a few lazy hours later, is takeout oden hotpot. His excuse is that there’s nothing left in the fridge, and possibly, also the fact that he’s uncertain his cooking skills are  passable enough for a good Sunday dinner, but he’ll take any reason to  treat MC to her favorite, so he does.

Her eyes flick from the familiar logo on the takeout bag up to his when he sets it on the kitchen table. He can read the ‘Gavin, you shouldn’t have,’ in them a heartbeat before she says the words.

“Eat  up while it’s still hot,” is his only reply, and with a smile, he hands her a pair of disposable chopsticks after breaking them apart with a small snap. She looks from him to the steaming pot of food. When he doesn’t move, she picks up a fish cake and a piece of vegetable, and holds it out to him with an answering smile.

“You first. You really like the fish cakes from here, right?”

He nods, fighting another smile and the smallest blush, then takes the bite, gesturing for her to eat, too, as he chews and swallows.

While she’s busy filling her own bowl, he takes his own chopsticks and picks out a few choice pieces, then holds his first bite out to her, too. She takes it without protest, but then tries to give her second bite to him, and he counters by trying to give her both his second and his third—

The hotpot’s finished, in that manner, within the next hour and a half. When the pot’s full of only broth, they take a look at each other, then MC begins to laugh.

“My stomach’s stuffed— are you prepared to take responsibility for this crime, Officer Gavin?” she manages, between laughs, trying and failing to put on a pitiful expression as she rubs her belly.

“Only if you start eating proper meals regularly,” he replies after a heartbeat, clearing his throat, and she huffs, but there’s a matching spark of amusement in both their eyes.

They wash the dishes from the day together, MC with the sponge, Gavin behind her, his arms not quite around her, taking each dish and drying it with a towel before putting it to rest on the dish rack. Once the last bowl is scrubbed and shining, nestled firmly in place, they settle together in a comfortable tangle of limbs on the couch.

It’s a gentle sort of quiet for all of five minutes before someone tickles the other— Gavin’ll swear up and down it wasn’t him— and it turns into a full-scale tickle war.

He gets in a few good ones, her breathless laughter mingling with his,  warm and loud and bright, but then her elbow slips, (“it wasn’t on purpose!” she claims later) devious, into his gut.

“Do you surrender?” she asks, perched atop his chest, mischievous glint in her  eyes. He starts to raise his arms, thinks better of it, then settles for a resigned nod.

“You got me,” he replies, then smiles when she leans in to brush her lips against his.

He doesn’t use the opportunity to tickle her again— he’s far more mature than that. He doesn’t.

And if they collapse into giddy giggles later, sides aching, breath spent, the couch pillows strewn across the plush white carpet, the coffee table askew, well, that's both their faults, not just his.

The sun’s long since slipped below the horizon by the time they’ve cleaned up the living room and taken a seat again, tired out. The room's wide windows give them both a glimpse into an otherworldly dimension, one made of night and stars and the soft glow of city lights far below, a universe at their feet, though the only one he cares about is right beside him, chin on his shoulder, the rest of her stretched out on the  sofa while he sits on the floor.

“Play something for me?” she murmurs into his ear as he fiddles with his guitar, the two of them illuminated by the glow of his lamp of stars and the moonlight.

He  lets his fingers dance across the guitar strings until it turns into  music, a soft, warm melody that somehow tugs on the edges of his memory though he’s sure he’s never played it before in his life, and he’s humming along before he even realizes it, the notes familiar, nostalgic, like coming home.

MC’s head tips up, eyes wide, and his fingers slip from the strings. The music stops.

“Play that again?”

He  nods, obliges instinctively, and there’s the melody again, chords like  his life given new meaning, breathed alive in the spaces between the  start of one note and the end of another, slow and quiet at first, then  building, gently lingering.

“Do you know the song?” he asks. “It feels familiar, somehow—”

His voice trails off. The words, once spoken aloud, seem almost silly. It’s more than familiar, it’s something deep, significant, more than he could ever put into words.

She shakes her head with a slight frown. At her silence, he picks through the notes again, humming them, memorizing their sound, their shape, their feel until the snippet’s over again, fading, a song left unfinished, perhaps because its (his, their) story hasn’t yet come to an end.

“I think I’ve heard it before,” she says at last with a small, wistful smile, then leans over the guitar to press a kiss to his lips. Reflected in her eyes, he fancies, is not just the lamplight, but the light of  all the universe, a hundred galaxies, a thousand stars.

“Maybe it was in a dream.”

[phcking-detective]

MasterList 2.0

Kiss Prompt Series (all PG)

Angry Kiss – Gavin chases after a perp without backup and gets shot multiple times. He can’t believe his asshole android partner is staying behind to help him instead of catching the perp, but maybe RK900 cares more than he thinks. Maybe a lot more …

Reunion Kiss – Nines returns a day early from an intensive case and stops by Gavin’s favorite coffee shop to get his boyfriend a treat. But Gavin is already there and apparently has the same idea.

Awkward Forehead Kiss – Nines takes care of his sick human partner as best he can, but all human media seems to indicate sick humans need forehead kisses to feel better. Too bad he doesn’t know how to kiss. Luckily, Gavin is happy to help teach him.

Forced Kiss – Nines attempts to break up with Gavin for the detective’s own good. That goes about as well as you’d expect. (NO non-con! Gavin just kisses Nines in the middle of his mental breakdown while he tries to self-isolate.)

Drunk Kiss – Connor and Hank bring in a box of Sumo’s puppies to the precinct Christmas party. When two go missing, Nines tracks them down to find … Detective Reed? He did not realize his maladjusted human partner could be so gentle.

Forehead Kiss – human!Richard is having a bad mental health day and gloomily declares he needs serotonin. android!Gavin and himbo extraordinaire offers to go to the grocery store and get him some.

***

Extra Drabbles (all PG or Teen)

HOT SINGLE ANDROID IN YOUR AREA – Gavin keeps getting spam pop-ups on his computer about hot androids who want to fuck. Until he finally notices they’re now only talking about one single android in particular. Who could it be?

Dumb Ways to Deviate: Cheeseburger – Nines takes Gavin out to eat as a reward for solving a case they’ve been working on for the past 36 hours. When the exhausted human tries to feed him, Nines suddenly experiences–[feelings]??

crush.exe –Nines thinks Gavin is cute. But that’s just objective fact, right? Anyone would think he’s cute. Tina disagrees and diagnoses him with something called a “crush.”

INTRUDER ALERT – Nines visits Gavin’s apartment to discuss a case, but there is an [INTRUDER] wearing an ingenius chocolate scrub mask that confuses his facial recognition software.

Find Familiar -- Nines is the most brilliant wizard of their generation, and when they summon their familiar for the first time, they expect some sort of unique and brilliant creature. Not a short, angry little man with a facial scar and bare feet banging on their door three days later.

Bathtime -- Nines isn’t spoiled, and if he is, it’s only because Gavin keeps giving him everything he asks for. Like “help” washing his hair in the bath.

Love Letter -- Gavin receives an anonymous letter detailing how the sender wants to analyze his skin and catalog his teeth. The two suspects? Well, it was obviously either written by Detroit’s latest serial killer or ... Gavin’s own partner.

Not Alone -- After Gavin gets shot in the side, falls off a building, and breaks two of his limbs, Nines is desperate to see him the moment he's out of surgery. Except the hospital he's at has a "legal family members only" visitation policy to keep out androids. In desperation, Nines calls a very old emergency contact number that lists "Eli Reed" as Gavin's brother--only to suddenly be on the phone with Elijah Kamski himself.

Happiness is a Jealous Android -- Gavin starts hanging out with a new GJ500 for smoke breaks, mutual bitching about work, and maybe a little light flirting. Him and Nines haven’t discussed the thing they have going, and Nines has been busy anyway, so a little flirting is OK, right? Except for when the other android won’t take no for an answer ...

Dumb Ways to Deviate: Birds -- An argument between RK900 and Gavin on whether bats are mammals or birds leads to ... well. What it says on the tin.

updated list of fics in my main reed900 series under the cut!

Reed900 Main Series (all Explicit)

In the Beginning -- 7k words; RK900 follows the orders [stay in room 6459] and [do not interfere] while deviants attack and shut down Cyberlife, and it’s not because he’s “petty” as the deviant Connor accuses. If Cyberlife wanted its help, they should not have forgotten the unit in a storage closet.

Fight Club (but Explicitly Gay This Time) – 2k words; RK900 decides to “discipline” Gavin in the DPD men’s bathroom by spanking and stepping on him. Unfortunately, the disgusting little human actually enjoys it.

Fast and Furious – 5.5k words; Nines notices how competent Gavin is at driving. In fact, he’s noticing a lot about Gavin, which is unfortunate, because he doesn’t know what it means. Maybe slapping the human more will help …

Ain’t Got Time to Bleed – 27k words; Gavin and Nines engage in exciting new activities, like solving a case together, going out for drinks, hustling at pool. Specifically, Nines gets hustled by Gavin, but he pays it back tenfold in the alleyway afterward.

First Blood – 129k words; Gavin and Nines get caught up in a case that’s a lot more complicated than it seems as they run into a Ponzi scheme and a staged suicide, an attempted murder on the journalist who broke the story, and a mysterious android manipulating it all. Even worse, they’re starting to actually kind of like each other too. But will their partnership be strong enough to get them through kidnapping, torture, and safe / sane / consensual sex?

If It Bleeds -- 14k, ongoing; While dealing with the fallout of the WJ700 case, Gavin and Nines also get assigned to the new Android Task Force when they start investigating on their own anyway. But their cases get more complicated as both the IA and FBI hold a grudge, Nines makes new sexual explorations of his own, and Gavin’s ex-boyfriend attempts to reconnect …

***

Bonus HankCon Fic (Explicit)

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This – 66k; Connor determines co-sleeping with Hank will be a productive, healthy venture–and step one on his three year plan to seduce Hank. Unfortunately for him, Hank is a gay, self-destructive old man who manages to fuck up The Plan by both already being in love with him and also refusing to acknowledge that. (75% domestic fluff, 24% sex at the end, 1% Sumo eating food he’s not supposed to)

***

Patreon (shameless promotion)

If you love my reed900 series and want to get chapters sooner, like my drabbles and want patreon-exclusive bonus content, and chapters from THREE of my WIPS, the tiers are $1 / $2 / $3 per chapter, respectively. I post chapters once a week on Sunday ^^

I also take commissions: $10 for 1k / $25 for 3k / $40 for 5k, NSFW and kink friendly, limits are no incest, pedophilia, or rape scenes. just PM me or email arthurofcamelot4@gmail.com if you’re interested ^^

[admiralty-xfd]

My contribution to the @xfilesfanficexchange​ is for @gaycrouton​. This has truly been a labor of love for me because I adore Nicole and I adore Dreamland. I hope I did it justice! 

Prologue

Once upon a time, there was a guy with the improbable name of Fox Mulder.

There was also a woman - his FBI partner, whom he was clearly in love with - named Dana Scully.

They started out happily enough, as these things go. He had a job he found invigorating, and she had… well, she had the same thing. From the outside, it seemed like they both pretty much led normal lives. But year after year, it became increasingly clear that wasn’t exactly the case. They could be doing other things: hobbies, vacations. Each other, even. But they never did.

What a waste, if you ask me.

Fox Mulder pissed away his chance at that life. And I’m not saying this to be judgmental or cruel; I’m saying it because I know. I know, because I used to be the guy.

My name is Morris Fletcher, and even I couldn’t get Fox Mulder out of his slump. Pretty pathetic, actually. Maybe you’re wondering how I remember any of this? Maybe you’re wondering why I’m even here?

Well, it’s a long story.

CHAPTER ONE

HIGHWAY 375

GROOM LAKE, NEVADA

SUNDAY MARCH 12, 2000

5:56 PM

The rental sedan cruised westward along the highway, its engine’s roar the only sound cutting through the silence of the desert evening. Dust billowed behind it as it sped towards its destination, which was nowhere in sight at the moment.

Inside, Fox Mulder squinted, adjusting his visor in an attempt to keep the slowly setting sun from burning his retinas. It was getting close to six ’o clock, and according to his source, he only had until six-thirty to get to the facility. Scully snoozed next to him in the passenger seat, and he took advantage of the straightaway to steal glances at her sleeping face, every once in a while the thud of the rumble strips jarring his attention back to the road.

His attention, which he’d expected to be on flying saucers and top-secret test flights, had instead been focusing more and more on that face. His partner’s face, specifically her lips: the ones he’d finally kissed at the New Year just a few weeks ago. Things had been pleasant between them since; downright flirty even, sometimes to the point where he felt like he was in high school again. And much like high school - in his experience, anyway - neither of them had made another move. If this were a courtship ritual, it was slower than that of a pair of snails.

The world hadn’t ended, however, and she’d conceded that. Something new had begun, and he hoped a significant change would come soon. He figured the ball was in her court now, and as much as he hated playing by the rules, when the love of his life was at stake, he was prepared to wait this out as long as he absolutely had to.

Scully stirred and he jerked his gaze away, looking straight out the windshield instead, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. She yawned and out of the corner of his eye he could see her adjusting her clothing, eyeing him surreptitiously as she gently swiped at the sides of her mouth.

“Are we almost there?” she asked, pulling the mirror on her visor down to check her face, presumably for sleep indentations. He wished she didn’t behave this way around him; if only she knew how perfect he thought she was in every single way.

“Should only be a few more minutes,” he answered. “You know, you slept on the plane, too. You feeling alright?”

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she sighed. “I’m sorry, I should have offered to drive.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said quickly. He didn’t want her to think he wasn’t grateful for her presence, especially since she’d come along begrudgingly anyway. “You get that beauty sleep, Scully.”

She gave him a tight grin, and he hoped that quip had come out right. Maybe he should have said she didn’t need beauty sleep? Maybe he should have said she was beautiful no matter how much sleep she got?

Maybe he should just shut the fuck up.

“So remind me, Mulder… why are we doing this again?” she asked, and he was glad for the reprieve of a change in subject. She didn’t sound annoyed, just curious.

“The first aerial photos of Area 51 were taken from a Russian satellite a few days ago,” he said, practically gleeful. “I was contacted by this source shortly afterwards. He claims to have some information we would find, and I quote, ‘highly interesting.’”

“And this is… the same source as last year?” she asked.

Mulder shrugged. “I’m not sure, actually,” he admitted.

“How do you know this isn’t a huge mistake?” she asked. “We’re on thin ice as it is. The X-Files are, I should say.”

She was right. Skinner had not-so-subtly warned them that Kersh was watching their every move, looking for any excuse to shut them down. It felt like the end was nigh no matter what they did, and rather than admit this to Scully he’d preferred to follow her lead and stay out of trouble. But this was Dreamland. Area 51. The opportunity to have access after all these years was too good to pass up, and perhaps worth the risk.

“It’s different this time, Scully,” he explained. “No sneaking around. With the names and credentials he gave us, we should be able to get through the gates this time, as long as we arrive by six-thirty.”

“Assuming we aren’t stopped first by a bunch of men in black with guns?” she asked. Their last trip to Groom Lake had been a bust before it even began.

“He said he’d make sure that wouldn’t happen,” he insisted. “All we can do is try, I guess. Worst case scenario, we don’t get through.”

“No, Mulder,” she corrected him, “we could get arrested. We could be detained. We could lose our jobs or at the very least, get suspended. I can think of a lot of worst case scenarios, including the one where we both end up getting shot for trespassing.”

He grinned. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Scully? Not to mention that enthusiastic optimism I’m so used to.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, this had better be worth it. I’m already exhausted and the thought of doing a red-eye tonight to get back in time for work tomorrow…”

Mulder sighed. He felt bad for dragging her along, but he’d had little choice in the timeframe his source had specified. A Sunday evening rendezvous on the other side of the country when they were supposed to be back at the office the next morning was bound to make anyone grumpy.

“I owe you one, Scully,” he said.

“You don’t owe me anything, Mulder,” she replied. “Just promise me when this is over, no more talk of UFOs until I get a bath and a decent night’s sleep.”

“Deal,” he grinned. “I know how much you like ‘normal.’”

He’d been wondering for a while now if Scully was only still with him out of obligation. Perhaps she was tired of this life. Perhaps she wanted something different.

Don’t you ever just want to stop? Get out of the damn car, settle down and live something approaching a normal life?

“This is normal, Mulder, for us, anyway,” she smiled. She briefly caught his eye then turned to look out the window, adept as ever at letting a charged moment slip through their grasp. He was glad she’d said as much, but he wondered if she truly meant it.

Suddenly she noticed something up ahead, pointing. Mulder gripped the wheel with both hands and put on his game face, hoping beyond hope there wouldn’t be a replay of the last time. He noticed Scully glancing around them nervously as if she expected the same. But when he pulled up to the gate, presenting the fake names and credentials his source had provided, they were waved through without any problems whatsoever. They were flanked on either side by a security detail, but as Agent Fox Mulder drove onto the property of Area 51 with all but a welcome mat, he couldn’t help but throw a shit-eating grin at his partner.

“See? Easy as pie, Scully.”

“Only took us seven years,” she grumbled.

Seven years plus a lifetime, he thought to himself.

As they drove, he followed signs that read USAF and Nevada Test and Training Range . Most of the buildings were unmarked and, although the sun was setting, he could see what appeared to be crafts of some kind inside them, mostly obscured in their hangars by shadow, their sharp edges illuminated dramatically by an orange hue. He looked with wonder, and could see Scully craning her neck to see as well.

“What do you think they are?” she asked, and Mulder quirked an eyebrow.

“Never mind,” she smirked knowingly.

They approached Hangar 19, the one at which his source had instructed him to wait, just as the sun dipped down below the buildings. Nameless sentinels with guns stopped them, and instructed them to park next to a gate about twenty yards from the entrance. They were then told to get out and walk to the hangar.

Scully stepped out of the passenger side cautiously, closing the door, catching Mulder’s eye across the roof of the car as he did the same. He straightened his jacket a bit, preparing to finally come face to face with his elusive source. The guards watched the duo closely as they entered the facility, and Mulder looked around for someone to meet them, but there was no one inside.

They stood there, dwarfed by enormous machinery on all sides, and while he wanted to believe they were welcome this time, he couldn’t help but take in the sight greedily, hungrily, as if it could be snatched away at any moment. There were no aircraft in this building, but he saw several unidentifiable machines.

They wandered around the dimly lit room, taking it all in. Every machine in the room was silent and dark save for one a few feet away, which had several small blinking red lights on the front, like a colony of bats ready to receive him.

“Hey Scully, check this out,” he called, waving her over to the machine. It was slightly taller than he was, shaped a bit like a large teapot. As he got closer he noticed a thrumming blue light swishing at the top. It appeared to be in standby mode.

“What do you think it does?” she asked.

“No idea,” he replied. “But it looks a lot like Stewie Griffin’s time machine, doesn’t it?”

Showing no sign of picking up on his reference, she wandered around the device, studying it. “Mulder, there are radiation warnings printed on this thing,” she said with slight alarm. “We aren’t wearing protective gear.”

Slam!

The door they’d entered through was suddenly slammed shut. The device then illuminated completely, aquamarine lights blinking along the sides, chasing each other up the sides of the machine like some kind of dubious carnival attraction. There was a loud humming sound as if it were charging some kind of energy. Mulder instinctively felt around for Scully, finding her wrist, pulling her close to him.

The lights picked up speed as the humming grew louder, and while he wasn’t completely blind to the possibility that they could be in serious trouble, he found himself almost hypnotized by the unusual apparatus. Holding her tightly by the wrist he took a step closer, and she didn’t stop him. He glanced over at her; she seemed just as mesmerized.

“Mulder…?” she breathed, eyes wide.

The only thing he could see in the darkness was the blue light illuminating the angles of her face as she stared up at the machine, and the last thing he remembered was the arc of her nose, the gentle curve of her jawline, before the room exploded with a bright white light and they were both propelled backwards.

***

He groaned uneasily as he came to, not quite registering what had happened. The lights had gone off the machine, plunging the room into total blackness. Mulder couldn’t see a thing. He was extremely disoriented and felt a lump in his throat as he fumbled around in the dark.

The first thing he noticed was that his hand was empty: it no longer held onto his partner’s wrist. His instinct was to call for her but his head pounded and he was so dizzy he needed to find his footing, to gain purchase. Mercifully, the light at the top of the machine clicked on, and his immediate surrounding area was bathed in an eerie blue light once again.

He wasn’t sure exactly what possessed him, but he looked down at his empty hand, noticing something alarming.

It did not look like his hand.

At first he thought it was perhaps a trick of the light. It was hard to see much of anything. But when he looked again he knew, with visceral immediacy like a punch in the gut: these were most definitely not his own hands. They were nicely manicured, the skin soft-looking and delicate. Feminine. The phrase knew it like the back of my hand bounced around his mind and suddenly he realized why: these were familiar hands, all right, but not because he knew his own so intimately.

It was because he knew Scully’s.

What the fuck was happening?

This precise thought had occurred to him hundreds of times during his tenure on the X-Files but this time it was more panic than confusion. He touched his face and instead of a five ’o clock shadow he felt a smoothness he wasn’t expecting. His hair was longer, softer. And while Mulder was quicker to trust his gut than most, the reality of his situation hit him in waves, comprehension drowning him in slow-motion:

I’m not me.

I’m someone else.

I’m Scully.

Not in mind, for his thoughts still belonged to him, but in body: which he slowly allowed himself to sense, to feel. He couldn’t see any details: any evidence of the contours of a feminine body were hidden beneath his clothes, which he could now ascertain were her clothes. A faint scent of something floral, maybe lavender, wafted around his head. Tiny knees and slim legs peeked out beneath his skirt.

His next thought hit him instantly, as if the slow-motion had given way to freeze-frame.

Where is Scully?

The hangar was suddenly filled with the sounds of gunfire, their welcome wagon turning not-so-welcoming. He ducked down, concentrating on one immediate concern: find her. Find her now.

“Scullaaay!!!” he yelled, but the cry came out in her voice, and he clapped his hand over his mouth so as to not draw any fire towards her. Him. Himself as her. Whatever. Then, as if summoned by his very thoughts, a hand grabbed his own. A male hand, large and very much in charge. At first he worried one of the men with guns had seized him but what he heard next was the most jarring thing of all.

“Mulder, it’s me!”

The urgency was Scully’s, but the voice was not. It was a male voice. It was a familiar voice.

It was his own voice.

Despite the gravelly timbre and deep pitch, he sensed that innate feeling of trust he felt when she was nearby: the Scully aura. Trusting his intuition, he gripped her hand and followed her, his own little legs struggling to keep up, tripping on ridiculous high heels that already hurt his feet.

“Scully…? What’s happening…?” he mustered, and as he expected this time, the words left his mouth in her voice.

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” she replied in his low pitch. “But we have to get out of here.”

Her command was unnecessary as sounds of gunfire still rang through the hangar. He could hear, but could not see, the men firing at them. It didn’t matter; all he knew was that they needed to get out of there, and fast. He could see the exit fifty feet away. Forty, thirty, twenty… he was briefly reminded of a large white dome, the hum of a thousand bees and the smell of corn crops.

The desert chill slapped him in the face as they broke free of the facility. They weren’t at the entrance anymore; he wasn’t sure exactly where they were, but everything was in better focus than usual. He could clearly make out the words on the signs as they rushed back to where he thought their car was - NO TRESPASSING, USE OF DEADLY FORCE AUTHORIZED - and thought perhaps maybe there was a reason Scully had always been a better shot.

Finally they were racing across dirt, and what had been a nearly-impossible task of running in Scully’s heels was now an actually-impossible task. He stopped, panting a bit, more out of habit than actual necessity - how was Scully in such good shape? - and bent down to remove them.

“Are you kidding me?” she huffed, out of breath, and her typical sarcastic tone felt even more caustic coming out in his own gruff baritone.

“I’m not used to these,” he snapped defensively, clutching the pair of heels, and they continued running until they made it to  their car.

By the time they reached it, he noticed the gunfire had ceased, but he was by no means convinced they were in the clear. Scully stopped to look back at the hangar, hand on the door handle, paisley tie fluttering in the breeze. For the first time he got a good look at her- or rather, himself.

As she spun to look at their surroundings, his thoughts were inconveniently critical: why does my hair look like that from the back? Are all my ties that ugly? and I really need to find some more constrictive underwear. It was the strangest sensation to be looking at, essentially, a clone of oneself in the flesh.

Scully, muscle memory evidently prevailing, clambered into her usual spot in the passenger seat, her long legs awkwardly crushed against the glove box. Mulder climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, tossing the pair of shoes into the back.

He stretched his foot out but couldn’t reach the accelerator, inwardly cursing all of the times he’d teased Scully for her “little legs.” In a panic, he shifted the seat uncomfortably close to the steering wheel, and gripped it tightly. He could barely see over the wheel.

They were parked directly in front of a chain link fence, and he wasn’t sure if escape was even possible, but with very few options left at this point, he threw the car into reverse and jammed his shoeless foot against the pedal, hard. He could feel the vibrations up his leg as the car jerked backwards for a few seconds, then he shifted into drive and tore ahead, breaking through the gate easily and hurtling off into the dark desert night.

Mulder noticed puffs of sand exploding, surrounding them like tiny geysers, evidence that their pursuers were back and did not intend to let them escape. Too terrified to speak, he pressed his foot all the way to the floor. In spite of the danger, as he heard telltale pings against the bumper, he was grateful he’d checked the box for rental insurance back at Lariat.  

After several minutes, the sounds of gunfire faded. Either the discounted loyalty upgrade sedan he’d chosen had outrun their pursuers, or they’d simply decided they weren’t worth the trouble.

Both he and Scully stared straight ahead, saying nothing. Neither seemed to know how to begin. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed she was sitting stock still, eyes wide. Finally, ever the rationalist, she spoke.

“Something really weird happened out there, Mulder.”

“Yeah.”

He felt like an idiot; in seven years of unexplained phenomena, this might be the absolute weirdest, and it was ridiculous that neither of them had anything to offer each other besides well, that was weird . Her sentiment hung in the air, however, and along with it his presumption that she was not nearly as calm as she appeared to be.

“It’s okay, Scully,” he lied. “It’s gonna be okay.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

Predictably, she turned to face him, absolutely enraged. He couldn’t even process what was happening, much less his own emotional response to any of it, but he could definitely process hers.

“Mulder! ” she said, now very panicked. She waved her hands, which were his hands, in his face. “ I'm you, and you're me! We are very much not okay!”

He didn’t have to look at her to tell how upset she was, and he knew her eyes were fiery even in a shade that was not typically their own. She sat back into her seat and closed her eyes, putting her hands against her head. “This is not happening, I’m dreaming. Obviously this is a dream.”

Mulder sighed; denial was typically her first response but how could she deny a situation like this? This had happened, regardless of the mechanics, the science of it, whatever that was. She would have to accept it before they could do anything about it.

“Unless I’m sharing your dream, Scully, which I don’t think even we have the bad luck to relive, this is very much happening.”

She didn’t seem to be listening to him, rather muttering to herself. “This is both physically and biologically impossible.”

“And yet, here we are!” he interjected, raising his voice for the first time. Scully put her head between her legs, mumbling ohmygodohmygodohmygod into what he realized was his own crotch.

“That machine,” he said, doing his best to come up with something, some kind of explanation that could satisfy her. At least to the point where she could actually engage him in a coherent conversation. “The one with the radiation signs, remember? We were standing in front of it when this happened.”

She looked up, pinning him with a flabbergasted stare the likes of which he hadn’t seen since their early days together. “Mulder, are you suggesting that there’s a body-swapping machine hanging out in the middle of a random hangar in Area 51? And we just happened to walk by as it just happened to activate?”

“If you’ve got a better theory, Scully, I’m all ears,” he replied.

“What could the purpose of such a machine possibly be?”

“I don’t know,” he fumbled. “Some kind of torture tactic? Maybe a way to make people appear crazy so they can’t reveal any of the government’s secrets?” He looked back at the road. “Sure seems to be working on you,” he muttered under his breath.

Thankfully, either she didn’t hear him or deemed the task of chastising him for his editorial commentary low on her priority list.

“We need to go back there, it’s the only thing I can think to do,” she said, her reasonable tone finally somewhat identifiable in his own timbre. “Maybe they can reverse it.”

“Scully, in case you didn’t notice, an entire squadron just chased us off the base,” he pointed out. “We can’t go back there, not right now, anyway.”

Scully glared at him through his own eyes. He thought he’d probably never looked so stern. Sitting back into her seat once again, she crossed her arms, and her expression evolved into one that he finally recognized in his own features as undoubtedly Scullylike.

“What was that thing you said earlier, Mulder? About worst case scenarios?”

He groaned, and she sighed heavily; it was the same sigh of frustration he’d heard from his own lips on plenty of occasions. The exact same. It was unsettling.

“I’m sorry,” he said, although he certainly hadn’t planned or anticipated anything like this. For the first time, his mind flashed through a multitude of possibilities and problems that might come along with this new arrangement, regardless of how exactly it had occurred.

“So… what do we do?” she asked dumbly, more to the universe than to him. She sounded as impotent and sluggish as he felt.

As if her deflation had the opposite effect on him, he was suddenly so freaked out he felt his hands, Scully's hands , physically shaking. He couldn’t get a proper grip on the steering wheel, they were sweating so much. He saw a little dive bar off the side of the road, pulled over to park in the tiny parking lot, and shut the car off.

“First things first: we both need a drink,” he declared.

The entire story is posted on A03, please click here to continue reading!