#me. today was the first day i wore a he/him nametag and both my coworkers i was working with like. apologized to me if they offended me by

[be-good-to-bugs]

yeah ok having my pronouns respectfully feels pretty fuckin good

[morceid]

Snowy Sniffles

💡SPENCER REID X DEREK MORGAN💡

read on ao3

Summary: Derek gets the flu when he and Spencer are snowed in on a case in Colorado.

Word Count:  2k

Category: fluff, slight angst

Content Warnings: swearing, sickness, case details

A/N: enjoy my otp being cute and cuddly for my first day of 12 days of moreid :)

The snowy mountains of Colorado. A serial killer as cold as the air was out there, and It was the job of the BAU to catch him.

The team boarded their plane like normal, occasionally Derek coughed and cleared his throat. Not enough to realize what was happening, but enough to get a “You okay?” from JJ.

There weren’t many hiccups with local police, except for them withholding information about the victims. Derek and Spencer were sent to profile the dump site, JJ and Emily to interview victims' families, while Rossi and Hotch set up at the station.

The dump site was in a clearing next to a mountain frequently used for sledding. A visiting family from Texas was recommended the mountain by a friend and since they weren’t familiar with the area, the mom got lost and they came across the body. Thankfully the kids weren’t there to see it.

Spencer and Derek walked out of the black SUV and ducked under the police tape in their fleece jackets and large boots. 

“The victim was Hannah Gentry. She was a fourteen year old girl who ran away from her abusive father. No sign of sexual assault, but there were signs of restrains on her thighs and around her stomach.” Spencer walked around the area the body had previously been found, searching for anything left behind by the unsub.

“Maybe he thought he was saving these girls. How old were each of the victims?” Derek said, pulling tissues from jacket pocket.

“Ages ranged from 13 to 19. All had someone abusive close to them. You sure you’re okay?”

Before Derek could reply he was coughing and gagging into the torn kleenex in his hand.

“I’ll be fine,” The stuffiness in his nose was apparent in his voice now. “Let’s go back to the station. I’m sure Rossi and Hotch are at the M.E. now.”

The two walked back to the car and headed towards the police station. On the way it started snowing and Spencer said something about growing up in Vegas without snow, and how in Virginia they never really saw the snow fall, they just woke up to it on the ground and in the streets.

Between the snowfall rapidly increasing, the windshield wipers not doing anything to help, and Derek driving in an unfamiliar area, he began having a coughing fit and swerved off the road.

They didn’t get hurt in the accident, just a large rush of adrenaline, but the car wasn’t in the best shape. The engine made a sound that contorted Spencer’s face.

“We should probably check that.”

Derek tried to push his door open but he had driven into a ditch and snow was piled up tp his window. He rolled it down and shoveled some of the snow with his gloved hands. He got the door all the way open with a little wrestling of the handle. The boot of the car was opened and steam was rising from it. Spencer had crawled across the center console and got out from Derek’s side.

“Do you think we could get an officer to pick us up?” Derek sniffled.

“I think the snow is coming down too hard now.” Spencer’s black coat was powdered with snow that he didn’t bother to shake off, knowing it would be back there in an instant.

“I’ll call Hotch.” Derek fished his phone out of his pocket.

“You fell in a ditch? Morgan, this is a very time sensitive case. This guy kills every three days and it’s been the second day since the last body was found. We need you guys here.” Spencer overheard Hotch’s near yells over the phone.

“Okay, dad, calm down there. I’ll call up Garcia to find us the closest hotel and we’ll crash there. Reid says snowing too much for an officer to come pick us up.” It was around 7:30 and the sun was starting to set.

“Alright, we can send someone to get you tomorrow.” Hotch hung up and Derek called Penelope.

“Hey-llo my chocolate thunder! Anything I could do for you?”

Derek coughed a couple of times.

“You okay, Derek?”

“Yeah, uh, me and Reid got stuck in the snow and we can’t get back to the hotel. Are there any near us that we can crash at?”

“You’re in luck, Derek Morgan, There is a motel only a seven minute walk away from you. Anything else?”

“Not right now, baby girl, take care of yourself.”

“So what are we gonna do?” Spencer had begun chewing on his fingernails and pacing in a circle around the car.

“Kid,” Derek took Spencer’s cold hands into his warm, gloved ones. “Stop your worrying. I can see all of those gears in your head going a million miles an hour. Garcia found a motel near us and we can walk there and stay the night until someone can pick us up. We’ll be okay.”

“I know I’m gonna be okay, it’s you I’m worried about, Morgan.” Spencer took his hands out of Derek’s and leaned into the car to grab his bag.

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” As if on cue, Derek started having a coughing fit.

“I’m talking about that, Derek. You’re showing signs of getting the flu. Your heart rate has sped up by 39% in the last couple of days. You constantly have a running nose and you won’t stop coughing. I am not getting sick, I cannot afford to get sick, especially on a case, so I hope this motel has two beds.” Spencer pushed away from Derek and began walking.

“Wait!” Derek ran to catch up. “Pretty boy, you’ve already been with me for almost 24 hours. I think you are already infected. Besides, you, my friend, are shivering. Now let me give you one of my coats.”

Spencer slowed his walking and let Derek drape his second jacket over his thin, purple one. Having a crush on your coworker was the worst.

When the pair reached the motel the sun had fully set and they had snow covering their shoulders and resting on their heads. They brushed it off before entering, where they were bombarded with the overwhelming scent of perfume as what could only be presumed as the owner tugged them in with both of her arms. She was short and wore a sparkly pink dress not unlike one Penelope would wear.

“What can I do for you kind fellows today? Did ya crash on the side of the road? Lots of people did tonight. Can I get you a room? Was it your engine? Faulty car?” The woman rambled.

“Um, we fell in a ditch a little bit back. We just need two rooms for the night,” Spencer looked down at her nametag, “Sasha. Thank you.”

“Well, boys, I am sorry to disappoint but we only have one more room for the night. You’re just gonna have to share.”

“Are there at least two beds?” Spencer whined.

“Sorry,” Sasha took Derek’s credit card and punched in the numbers on a computer that looked almost a decade old. “You good there? You look like you could throw up any second?”

“I’m fine, ma’am. Just give us the room key please.” Derek cleared his throat.

“Alrighty, there you go FBI guys.” Sasha handed them the room key labed 7B.

Given the overwhelming personality that brought them in, neither had a chance to look around and profile the front office. When they got to the room they realized just how miserable the stay would be.

The heater seemed to be turned off resulting in the room being colder than the outside. Complementary water bottles on the nightstand had frozen, expanded, and exploded. The pipes in the walls creaked and whined. Derek moved towards the bed, which when he pulled up the sheets, they were stiff and barely moved at his touch. Spencer moved past the bed and to the kitchen, where he found a coffee machine and cups in the cupboard.

“What are you doing?” Derek coughed.

“Making coffee. It’s something to keep me warm.” Spencer still had Derek’s jacket across his shoulders.

“Alright well, you might be right. I think I’m starting to get a fever. I’m gonna hop in the shower. Hopefully it’s just the reverse air conditioning that’s broken.”

Derek’s observations were proven correct as he unexpectedly walked into the spray of a nearly boiling shower. His muscles relaxed as he began thinking about the events of the day. His nose ran more than it had in the cold weather and it reminded him of a moment in the office that happened some while ago, back when Spencer first joined the BAU.

It was a slow day in the bullpen. With Spencer being nearly fresh from college, Derek wasn’t expecting him to take the best care of himself, no one was. Derek looked up, ready to throw Spencer a rolled up note about how bored he was. Instead he was greeted with an empty desk. After asking Hotch where the boy genius was and getting a surprised ‘I don’t know’ in response, he went in search of him. Spencer was found laying on the couch in an empty office. HIs skin was red and burning to the touch. Derek gave him a couple of shakes and he woke up, groaning. Spencer had gotten the flu and didn’t know how to deal with it at work. Not wanting to disappoint Hotch by skipping a day for something so insignificant as a virus, he settled in an office he correctly assumed was vacant. He insisted that he was okay but Derek refused to believe him. He dropped Spencer off at his apartment and immediately knew. He was in love with Spencer Reid. And he wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

When Derek was in the shower for at least 15 minutes Spencer presumed that the shower was warm, so he called Sasha at the front desk from the phone in the room. She wouldn’t be able to get someone to come fix it for another day. He sat on the bed, spreading his arms and legs out in an attempt to warm the sheets. Letting his mind wander, he started asking himself questions. Why did he like Derek? He was just his coworker. Just someone in his life. An attractive person in his life, but just like anyone else in his life. Did Derek know how much he meant to him? Would he ever know? Would he be given the chance to let Derek know that he loved him and wanted to spend his life with the other knowing?

He was taken out of his day dream when Derek came out of the bathroom. Derek was shaking. He wore thick, flannel sweatpants and a grey hoodie, along with his socks, not wanting to leave a single part of his body too exposed.

“Uh, I know you’re super germaphobic and probably want nothing to do with my running nose and sore throat right now, but kid, all of my muscles are aching. Do you mind if I-”

“Not at all.” Spencer wrapped his arms around Derek’s middle as he sank onto the bed.

Derek let out a sigh of relief and settled in Spencer’s arms. It wasn’t long until his breathing evened out and he fell asleep in the lanky man’s arms.

“I think I love you, Derek Morgan.” Spencer whispered.

The next day Hotch called Derek to let him know that they caught the unsub. He was an amateur child groomer who left a hair in his latest victims mouth. An officer picked up the pair from the motel and they boarded the jet. Derek’s flu passed as soon as it came and he was better in the morning. A little cuddling with Spencer was just what the doctor ordered.

“Hey, Spencer.” Derek sat across from him after everyone on the jet had fallen asleep.

“Yes, Derek?” Spencer noted the use of his first name in his head.

“We need to talk about last night.”

“What about it?”

“I heard you, Spencer.”

“Wh-what are you talking about? Heard me say what?”

“Spencer,” Derek put his hand on the other’s knee, “I love you too.”

In a panic, Spencer leaned forward and pecked Derek on the lips.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He stammered.

“It’s okay. We can do that if you want.” Derek leaned back in for a real kiss from Spencer. He still tasted like the cheap hotel coffee.

“We can do anything as long as we’re together.”

TAGLIST: @greenaway-lewis @pretty-b0yy @w0rmpi3 @sunflowrly @fuckshitupm8-deactivated3728 @the-sassy-one @endetit @adhd-lesbian @nobody121113​ @stalinthestripper​

[callboxkat]

Second Chances: Virgil’s No Good, Awful, Very Bad Week

Author’s note: Thank you everyone for your patience on this! I’m so sorry I didn’t get this out as quickly as I intended. I hope you enjoy it :)

Summary: Things had really begun to snowball for Virgil in the past week or so. And he was reaching his breaking point. 

It had started with those stupid nails.

Warnings: Food mentions, rude customers, arguing

Word Count: 4735

Second Chances Masterpost!

Writing Masterpost!

...

Virgil had been having a time of it lately. Seemingly everything that could possibly wrong was going wrong, and he desperately needed a me day. He was going to lose it, at this rate.

His new coworker had finally settled in enough to start being actually helpful, rather than slowing everything down and doubling the number of irate customers Virgil had to juggle, and had maybe turned out to actually not be a jerk, and things had been looking up. But of course, Virgil’s life couldn’t have that, and here he was. Things had really begun to snowball in the past week or so. And he was reaching his breaking point.

It had started with those stupid nails.

…

“Are you freaking kidding me,” Virgil groaned.

There was a nail in his tire. A nail, in his tire. The end of it glinted slightly in the weak sunlight, the rest completely embedded in the tire of his car.

He’d had a feeling about what he’d fine, as the low pressure warning had come on and he’d pulled onto the side of the road, although he’d hoped otherwise. This was the third time this had happened in as many months. Virgil swore someone was seeding his driveway with them.

“Great. Just great.” Virgil fished his phone out of his pocket, glanced at the time—he was definitely going to be late for work, since he wasn’t about to let his car sit in the parking lot and leak air from the tire all morning—and dialed Thomas’s number. Apparently, he and Roman would get to start today’s shift alone.

Rain began to fall, pattering the street. Even more perfect. Virgil cast one more glare at the offending tire before he got back in his car. He slammed the door just as the line picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey T, uh… were you going to go in today?”

“I wasn’t,” Thomas admitted. “Why, do you need me to?”

“Well, I was on my way to the café, but you’ll never guess what I just found in my tire.”

There was a sympathetic groan on the other end of the line. “Oh, no.”

“Yep.”

“But you just got that fixed.”

“Yep.”

“…Are you sure it’s not just a pebble?”

Virgil laughed. “Thomas, I think I know how to tell a nail head from a pebble. If I didn’t before, I sure should now.”

“That’s true.”

“So, uh, hopefully I shouldn’t be too long, but….”

“No, don’t worry about it. Do what you’ve got to do. I’ll go make sure Roman’s not by himself.”

“Yeah. Um, tell Princey I said hi, I guess. And that if he messes anything up while I’m gone, I’m gonna take his name tag and make him wear my Myrtle one.”

“…You don’t have a Myrtle nametag?”

“I’ll make one, then.”

Thomas snorted. “Alright.” He knew Virgil was joking. Which he was. Mostly.

Getting a nail in his tire sucked; but of course, it if were only the nail that he had to deal with, it wouldn’t have been so bad. Virgil could handle a minor inconvenience. A few minor inconveniences. But things only got worse from there.

…

“Medium chai latte with two cherries,” the woman standing in front of the register said, not looking up from her phone.

“Sure,” Virgil said. They typed in the order, then told her the price. The cherries seemed a little odd, as did the specific request for exactly two of them, but they’d put together some pretty strange orders. And it wasn’t exactly difficult to throw in a couple of cherries. It wasn’t a very expensive drink.

The woman frowned anyway and finally looked up from her phone, clearly unhappy. “But the sign says the chai latte is only—"

THUMP! The loud interruption was accompanied by a gasp and a splash. Virgil spun around, their heart immediately racing. There was a yelp from the side—probably Roman.

“Oh, goodness gracious,” Thomas sighed, one hand on the counter, looking down at the mess he’d made. He’d dropped a gallon of milk—which had been nearly full, from the look of it, and which either hadn’t had a cap, or had lost it when the jug fell, hitting the ground hard. It had, of course, tipped onto its side. Now, milk was spreading across the floor, and there were splashes of it across the bottom of the cabinets and their clothes.

Roman, the only one of the three spared from the splatter, quickly set down the pair of drinks he’d just finished before he could drop them. A bit of coffee dripped down the side of one of the cups. His eyes were wide as he looked from the splattered milk on the floor, to Thomas by the counter, to Virgil at the register.

Virgil also took a second to take in the scene, then noticed the damp feeling at the ankles of their leggings. They looked down, and their still frantic heart managed to sink as they took in their skirt. It was new, ankle length, with beading and embroidered skulls. They’d worn it with a stylishly ripped long sleeve shirt under their uniform shirt, as well as a studded choker with a dangling storm cloud pendant, which had been a birthday gift from Thomas. They were also wearing a they/them pin that they’d gotten from Roman, who’d shown up one day with a set of three pins, looking both very nervous and very pleased with himself. Virgil had still been able to see where the clearance sticker had been torn off—not that they were judging saving a little money. Virgil was 100% sure that the gift was Roman’s attempt to help himself, since apparently the name tags were too subtle. Virgil thought it was kind of hilarious—and maybe a little sweet (maybe)—so they wore the pins.

They had loved the look, minus the Sanders Café shirt; and wearing it had really brightened having to go to work so early in the morning; but now the ensemble was rather soured by the milk dripping from the skirt’s hem and splashed across their shoes. They stepped back to avoid the spreading puddle, as if it mattered at that point.

“Huh,” they said, still trying to get their heart rate to calm down.

Thomas sighed as if in agreement. A few people in line either groaned or snickered, depending on how impatient they were feeling on that particular day, but most weren’t that rude. One person whispered to their friend, “Should we go somewhere else?”

Roman, meanwhile, looked like he was waiting for someone to start yelling. He was eyeing the closet where the cleaning supplies were, but he couldn’t get to it without marching through the milk, and he was visibly hesitating. Probably didn’t want to ruin his shoes. Virgil might have been annoyed, but Roman was the only one who hadn’t already gotten milk on them, so they couldn’t really blame him.

Their gaze drifted to Thomas’s hand on the counter, and how much weight he was putting on it, and the fact that Thomas had also made no move to clean up the spill.

“I’ve got this,” Virgil said, leaving the register and the crowd behind it. A soccer mom who was waiting for her drink made a snide comment about professionalism. Virgil decided her drink was getting made last.

“Thanks,” Thomas said. He watched as Virgil righted the jug and picked it up. The side of the jug had cracked, and they quickly moved to hold the jug at an angle to avoid too much more spilling—not that there was all that much left. It continued to drip as they carried it to the sink and set it down. Then, they went to get a mop. Thomas was feigning casualness as Virgil went, clearly preferring to look a bit like a jerk than anything else in front of the customers, who probably assumed he was just a manager taking advantage of the lower ranking employee by forcing them to clean up his mess. Virgil wasn’t going to do anything to ruin that image if that was the one he preferred, although they did keep an eye on Thomas as they started to clean up the spill.

Roman slowly turned back to what he’d been doing, wiping off the side of one of the drinks and sliding the both towards the waiting crowd. He grabbed one of the café’s popular double chocolate cheesecake slices, put it on a plate, and added it to the grouping on the counter before calling the customers’ names.

After a few seconds, Thomas straightened and walked to the register, and sat down on the stool. Chatter resumed a more usual tone in the café, although Virgil did notice a few people taking pictures of the spill.

Thomas smiled brightly at Ms. Chai Latte with Two Cherries. “Sorry about the wait! Let’s see, one chai latte, with two added cherries. That’ll be—”

The woman was already waving her credit card in his direction. “I know, I know. Here.”

Finally, the spill was cleaned up, and Virgil went to put away the mop. They snagged a bag of chips from the display and tossed them to Thomas on their way. And for the rest of their shift, they desperately tried to ignore the milk still stubbornly set into their skirt and leggings.

…

“Sorry,” Virgil said dully, not actually sorry at all, “Would you mind repeating that again?”

The young man grinned and repeated his very, very long order, speaking fast in a way that could only be on purpose. Virgil was pretty sure the order was different this time than the first. They cast a glance at the camera phone the guy was holding up, which was recording the entire thing, as if this was somehow the thrilling content the entire internet was looking for.

“One more time,” they said. “Please,” they added, because their boss would want them to.

The guy chuckled. “A little slow, huh…” he squinted at their shirt “…Alex, are we?”

Virgil only blinked at him.

He repeated the order. He definitely changed it again, but at least he slowed down this time. Slightly. Virgil typed it in, flashed a customer-service smile that didn’t reach their eyes, and went to make the order, taking a copy of the receipt. Roman was technically meant to fill the orders, but no one else was in the café besides a pair of teens waiting for their drinks. And based on the look the other barista cast Virgil, he had no idea where to start with this guy’s order anyway, even if he wasn’t already busy. Everything the man had ordered was ridiculous and often contradictory, like an “americano” with milk and whipped cream, to start. Most of the drinks had about ten customizations each that made their drinkability questionable at best. The order was rounded out by two relatively normal cappuccinos, identical except that one was decaf, and three-quarters of a cookie (he was being charged for the full cookie). It wasn’t a cheap bill, but that didn’t seem to be a concern.

The man filmed Virgil work, making dumb comments and laughing, and calling out various things that he thought that the barista had forgotten even though they hadn’t, or saying that they hadn’t added enough sprinkles or cherries or syrup, or whatever he could think of. Virgil only checked the receipt and kept going.

When the customer clearly didn’t get the reaction he wanted from any of that nonsense, he instead started berating Virgil’s appearance, saying he hadn’t known he was at some kind of freak raccoon zoo.

Roman looked annoyed at that and opened his mouth to respond, but Virgil shook their head. “Don’t, Princey,” they said in a low voice.

Roman hadn’t looked happy, but he had dropped it, instead heading over to the register, so that he could help the newly arriving customers who would otherwise be stuck waiting.

Finally, the monstrous order was done, and Virgil placed each cup on a tray. Two trays, actually. The drinks didn’t all fit on one. They set the dumb three-quarters cookie the customer had ordered on top of the lid of one of the cups.

“Which one’s the full caff cappuccino?” he asked. “You know, with—”

He went on to list all of the specifications it had, which Virgil tuned out because they didn’t care. They calmly pointed at one of the cups.

The guy grinned, took that drink off of the tray, and set it to the side. Then he did his best to fit everything else on one tray, putting his phone in a chest pocket so he could keep filming. He wasn’t going to win any awards for cinematography. Maybe he didn’t have any friends to film for him. It wouldn’t be a surprise.

The man picked up his overflowing tray of drinks, and then he dumped the entire thing in the trash.

Some of the drinks hit the edges of the trash can’s opening, spilling over the sides; but most of the man’s order ended up firmly in the trash. Everything Virgil had spent the past… he didn’t even know how long putting together. The two teenagers in the cafe looked up from their table, their jaws falling open like they couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

Roman looked even more horrified, but as angry as they were, Virgil simply blinked and turned to the drink the guy had set aside. “Oh, wait. Yeah. Sorry, that one’s actually the decaf.”

The wannabe internet star, who’d been watching their reactions smugly, paused. His face went blank with surprise, then contorted in rage. He turned off his camera phone and stormed out of the café without his drink.

Virgil counted to five, to reset, and let out a long, weary sigh. There weren’t many customers who were that horrible, but they were always a pain to deal with on the rare occasion they did show up. They turned to the small line that had collected during the show, held up by how long the one pointless order had taken. “If you all wouldn’t mind, please use the trash can on the other side of the café until further notice.” They pointed at the other trash can. They’d clean up the other once the line was gone, or make Roman do it.

Speaking of Roman, the other barista was still staring at the trashcan full of wasted drinks. Probably his first encounter with someone like that.

“Next customer,” Virgil called.

“He didn’t even… try any of them,” Roman said quietly. He looked down at the solitary, ridiculous drink left on the counter, and picked it up.

Virgil sighed. “Yeah. He was just here to make a mess for views, or whatever. Don’t worry about it. You can just throw that one away, too—we can’t sell it; and I doubt he’s coming back.” They turned and smiled at the customer before them. “So sorry about the wait. What can I get for you?”

They focused on taking the customer’s order, then turned to Roman, only to see that he hadn’t moved, still standing with the abandoned drink. He looked angry.

“Roman?”

“I’m taking my break,” Roman said. Still holding the drink, he left the prep area, walking stiffly towards the back of the café.

Great.

Virgil watched him go, shrugged, and went to make the order herself. She handed the drink off, then paused to switch the pins on her shirt before heading back to the register.

Some time later, once the café’s line was empty and the trash can had been cleaned up, Virgil walked to the break room and leaned on the doorframe. Roman was in there, sitting on the sofa, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and looking at the floor. The drink he’d taken from the counter sat on a table, half finished.

“You drank it?”

“It was the most normal drink he ordered,” Roman said, not looking up. “And he barely touched it.”

“Yeah, but… it’s decaf.”

Roman huffed, but he didn’t actually seem amused.

“What’s up, Princey?”

Roman shook his head.

“Come on, humor me. I don’t have time to needle it out of you. Someone’s supposed to be out front.”

Roman shook his head, glanced at Virgil, and looked away again. “It’s just a big waste, okay? What that guy did. I don’t—” He shook his head. “People shouldn’t do that.”

“No,” Virgil agreed, still confused about why a few drinks mattered so much to Roman. He wasn’t the one to waste so much time putting them together, and the guy had paid for them. “They shouldn’t.”

Roman took in a shaky breath and sat up, still looking away. “Sorry, just… go back out front. I’ll join you in a second.”

“…Okay.” Virgil hesitated, glancing him up and down, but she did leave.

Roman came back soon after, but he kept acting weird for the rest of their shift.

When she got home that afternoon, Virgil wanted nothing more than to take a long nap and watch some bad television, but someone had backed into her mailbox, and she got to deal with that instead.

…

The next day, the fridge died.  

The freaking. Fridge. Died. They had just gotten a milk delivery!

Virgil and Thomas were stuck with a dead fridge and a crowd of customers who weren’t exactly going to leave and give them space to figure out what to do. At least they knew roughly when it had stopped working, since Virgil had checked it when he got to the café, and they’d noticed something was wrong soon after.

Thomas went to the back to make some calls about getting the fridge fixed, and Virgil went on as normal, since they had some time before this really became a problem.

He tried not to think about it too much—at least, not until Thomas returned, looking annoyed and exasperated.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “That’s the earliest they can come look at it.”

“Everything will go bad way before then,” Virgil pointed out, arching an eyebrow. “The milk.”

“Yep.”

“So? What are we going to do?”

“Bradley told me we could figure that out. He doesn’t care.”

“Um, okay, well….”

Thomas shrugged. “Clearance sale?”

They ended up selling everything that required refrigeration for half of the regular price. Some of the less popular items, or items they had a lot of, were even further discounted. The first few customers to find this out were simply pleasantly surprised to hear the prices. Some of them added more to their orders, since they might as well.

And then, news spread, which created a new problem. Soon, the line was out the door, the café filled with customers clamoring for their discount coffee and pastry fix.

This rush, naturally, created more problems. Many of the customers seemed to be under the impression that everything was half price, and Virgil had the joyous task of dealing with many customers who were angry that their plain black coffee or chocolate chip cookies were full price, and who were unimpressed by Virgil’s suggestion that they make their americano a cappuccino or a latte if they were that set on paying less.

Thomas and Virgil were pushing out orders as fast as they could, and still it seemed like half the shop was filled with people clamoring to get their orders filled.

Mass hysteria rose when the café ran out of the popular double chocolate cheesecake. Virgil was beginning to contemplate simply closing the café for the day, cutting their losses, and hoping he wouldn’t get fired for doing so. Possibly the only reason he didn’t do that was remembering Roman’s reaction to a few (well… relatively few) drinks getting thrown away.

At one point, Thomas pulled Virgil aside. “I might need to go home,” he very reluctantly admitted. “This is… a lot. Would that be okay? I don’t want to leave you alone with all this.”

Virgil bit his lip. “Okay. Just… hold on a minute. Stay on the register. I’ll see if anyone else can come.”

Virgil pulled out his phone (which he was allowed to have in his apron pocket, at least as far as he cared) and stepped away from the crowded front of the café, retreating to the back room. He tapped his painted nails against the black, purple-rhinestone-studded phone case, thinking. Talyn and Joan would both be in class, so they weren’t an option. And he didn’t like most of the other baristas. Really, there was only one option.

Virgil selected Roman’s contact, and waited. He’d have preferred to just text—he hated phone calls—but he couldn’t be sure that a text would get Roman’s attention; and that cheap phone of his probably took forever to type on, anyway.

“Hey, Virgil,” Roman said. “What’s up? It’s my day off, isn’t it?” There was a shuffling noise, like he was scrambling to check that he hadn’t gotten the date wrong.

“Yeah—yeah, I know it is. Sorry, but, uh… we kind of have an emergency going on here, and we really need you to come in if you can. The fridge died this morning, so Thomas and I are trying to sell everything we can before it goes bad, and it’s getting crazy. And he’s not feeling well, so it’d just be me here… and—and it won’t like you’ll be losing your day off this week, since I doubt we’ll be able to open tomorrow with no fridge or supplies or anything. It’ll only be a couple of hours.” After that, they’d have to throw everything out.

Roman paused.

“…Please?”

“Wow, you must really be desperate if you’re saying ‘please’.”

Virgil scoffed, but before he could say anything, Roman continued, “Yeah, of course I’ll come in. One sec, I’ll see if I can get a ride.” Roman seemed to freeze, as if he’d misspoken “Uhh—my car’s—it’s in the shop.”

“…Yeah, sure.” That was an obvious lie, but it was neither any of his business nor anything he particularly cared about, especially at that moment. Virgil heard a scuffing noise, then footsteps, then a muffled conversation. Virgil paced the back room impatiently.

“Alright, I’m on my way. Give me like ten minutes, maybe fifteen.”

Virgil heaved a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

He went out to tell Thomas, who agreed to stay until Roman arrived, although he wasn’t sure how helpful he’d be.

And then a disgruntled guest threw a drink, because apparently it was taking too long to get their wife’s order. Virgil was really going to need a self-care day after the week he was having. Or two. Or ten.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to leave,” Thomas said from the register, looking unimpressed with the display.

“Sure, ma’am, whatever you say,” the customer said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Thomas frowned.

“Bye,” Virgil said pointedly.

Both customers looked annoyed, but thankfully, they did leave. The next several customers were overly nice, as if trying to make up for them. Virgil was not opposed to that, or to the substantial tips a few of them left.

Just under fifteen minutes later, Roman arrived. Another young man came in with him. Virgil assumed that he was a customer at first, but he looked around the café, grinning, chatting with Roman in a clearly familiar way.

“Wow, Roman,” Virgil heard, “is it always this busy?”

Roman laughed. “No, Pat. This is a little… unusual.”

“Oh, that’s good. It looks like a Black Friday sale in here.”

“That’s accurate,” Thomas commented, looking amused, as they came closer. He was sitting on the stool from the register, no longer taking orders—Virgil had been doing that for a while now. He started to get up, leaning on the counter to talk to Roman. “Thanks for coming in. Virge and I really appreciate it.”

Roman waved him off. “It’s fine, I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Still, thanks,” Thomas repeated. He waved at Virgil, then left the prep area, starting to untie the knot of his apron.

Virgil set down another cluster of drinks and pastries, and called the names on the orders even as hands appeared from the crowd to snatch them. Hopefully they were the right people, but if not, well… not his problem. “Who’s this?” Virgil asked, coming closer to Roman.

“Oh, Virgil, this is Patton. He gave me a ride. He’s, uh….”

“I’m his roommate,” Patton said, smiling. “And a friend.”

“Yeah,” said Roman. “Thanks, Pat. You can go home if you want.”

“Okay. Just text me when I should pick you up!” He smiled at Virgil, then glanced around at the crowded café. “Well, I won’t keep you, but it’s nice to meet you, kiddo.”

“Nice to meet you,” Virgil agreed.

The young man hugged Roman before he left, and then the baristas turned to face the mob.

By the time their clock ran out, very little was left to throw away. Still, Virgil could tell it pained Roman when they had to announce to everyone that the café was closing, and even more so when they threw out what was left. There wasn’t much to do about it, though, which Roman understood.

After their disaster of a morning came to a close, Virgil threw his apron at the hook on the wall in the wall. He missed, and the apron fell to the ground. “At least we get tomorrow off, right?” he sighed.

(Of course, this was before he knew that Bradley would ask him to be there when the repair worker came to look at the fridge)

…

Virgil watched a movie in bed that afternoon, but she burned her popcorn, which happened to be the last in the box; and she wasn’t exactly willing to go out and buy a new one at that moment. And the neighbor’s kids seemed to be having some kind of screaming competition.

She wasn’t having a great week.

…

The next afternoon, after dealing with the fridge situation at the café, Virgil finally got to go home and properly relax. No more nails in his tires, no more angry or entitled customers, and no more neighbors backing into his mailbox.

He had barely closed the front door before he was kicking off his shoes and yanking off his Sanders Café shirt (Why had he worn it, when the café wasn’t even open? The best he could figure was some kind of horrible autopilot.) He put his head back and let out a cry of pent-up frustration.

The week was over. It was finally time for some self-care, before he lost it completely.

He put on his softest pajama pants and was about to flop on the couch to watch The Office when the doorbell rang. He would have ignored it, but it rang again. Virgil threw a pillow in the door’s direction. It fell to the floor. The doorbell rang again.

Reluctantly, Virgil got up and went to answer it, and give whoever stood there a piece of his mind. “What,” he groaned, only to cut himself off when he saw who stood there. “…Oh. Hi, Thomas.”

“Hi,” Thomas said. He held up a case in one hand and smiled. “I brought drinks.”

Strawberry lemonade—Virgil’s favorite.

Virgil leaned on the doorframe and looked at Thomas appraisingly. “…You like The Office, right?” he asked.

Thomas laughed. “Storm Cloud, I introduced you to The Office.”

“Hm.” Virgil stepped back to let him in, cracking a grin. “Fair point.”

They watched a few too many episodes of The Office before Thomas went home, and by then, Virgil was feeling a lot better. Still, once he was alone, Virgil treated himself to a nice soak in the tub (in swim trunks and t-shirt) with a wine glass full of his finest purple Gatorade. He even set out candles (the battery-powered kind), put on some relaxing music, and used a swirling galaxy bath bomb that he’d been saving. A book Thomas had recommended sat on a little table by the tub, along with his cellphone in case it didn’t turn out as to be as good as his friend claimed.

Once everything was ready, Virgil sank into the bath, Gatorade in hand, surrounded by a swirling galaxy, ready to let the stress melt away

It was a nice way to end a very, very sucky week.

[huntertales]

Part Two: Angel of Mercy. (Heaven Can’t Wait S09E06)

Episode Summary: When Dean gets a call from Castiel about a possible case dealing with spontaneous human combustion, the older Winchester decides to investigate–on his own. The reader decides to tag along. She doesn’t take no for an answer when Dean shares his odd hesitations on letting her work on a hunt with Castiel. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 3,514.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

You suppose the different ways Cas could have ended up after going his own way might have been worse than where he was today. The angel-turned-human was blending into society without much trouble. Sure, he was a little awkward. Didn’t get most things like etiquette and social norms. You hoped he picked up enough knowledge from the few years he spent among humans. So far from what you could tell, he was doing okay. It made you breathe a little easier in some kind of reassurance that he was able to do things on his own without any help from you and the boys. Much as you wanted to lend a hand on this journey to make sure he was all right. 

In some way you understood a little too well the vulnerability of learning how to live on your own. You struggled to find your own footing after your mother passed away. John was unreliable in any way. He took the boys and went on his way after making sure the legal aspects of you living on your own were cleared. Occasionally he checked on you to make sure you were still alive. He taught you some tricks on how to protect yourself from monsters. But he never taught you anything useful in life. Basic skills on how to be an adult. Your mother might have planned out your life for when you turned eighteen, thinking she had a few years to help teach you to live without her. Things never worked out that way. A demon threw a wrench in her plan and screwed everything up. 

Angels, demons. Whatever kind of creature it was, they always somehow managed to screw everything to hell. While the circumstances were vastly different compared to the situation Cas was dealing with, it all boiled down to the same thing. The lifestyle you relied on, the normality that you didn't realize you depended so much on, vanished. You had to deal with the loneliness and responsibilities of being an adult. You were forced to grow up quickly and learn how to be an adult, Cas had to learn how to be...human. Learn the things that were second nature to you. The proper importance of daily hygiene and when to eat—and what to properly eat. Things he never had to worry about before. 

Somehow Cas learned enough to have made it this far without his fellow siblings sniffing out where he was. He found his footing and blended with society. He was just another average human working a day job. From what you were able to observe from the distance it seemed like Cas was just another average working waiting on people. Maybe a little more on the stranger side. No matter what, Cas had a slightly awkward charm to him. He was doing all right. But you weren't satisfied with a distance observation. 

Cas was behind the counter tending to a customer with a little too much enthusiasm for a retail worker. The woman was a little weirded out from the thumbs up he gave after handing over her lotto ticket. She forced a smile of her own before being on her way, letting the next customer in line step up. Which turned out to be two familiar faces the angel didn't expect to see. You offered the guy a smile from the look of shock that crossed his face. Dean wasted no time making things awkward when he pretended to be another paying customer. 

"I'll have some beef jerky and a pack of menthols." Dean said. 

“What are you two doing here?” Cas asked in a quiet tone of his voice. His body language drastically changed from the customer he tended to before. All of his friendliness seemed to have vanished for his friends who drove all the way here for him.

"Gee, it's nice to see you, too, Cas." You replied to the angel's rather frigid and distant greeting with a bit of hurt in your voice. 

"It's Steve now." The angel corrected you. You furrowed your brow slightly when he gestured to his nametag pinned to his hideous blue vest he wore. You forced yourself to bite back a laugh from the reality of the situation. Heaven's most fierce and loyal soldier was now working at a gas station. "And...you both surprised me."

"Well, the feeling is mutual." Dean agreed with the angel. He offered little support for the struggle Cas had to go through in order to keep himself safe. He found all of this comical as yourself, but he didn't have the restraint to keep his feelings well hidden. The sight of his friend working in retail was all too amusing not to pass up the chance to poke fun at the situation. "I  mean, I knew you had to lay low from the angel threat, but, uh, wow! This is some cover." 

Cas didn't find the way you and Dean were handling what he had been doing very helpful. He moved a few steps down the counter so the three of you could continue this conversation away from any lingering ears. "My grace is gone. What did you expect?" Cas asked. "Do you have any idea how hard it was? When I fell to earth, I didn't just lose my powers. I had nothing. Now...I'm a sales associate." The angel tried to see the silver lining of things at what he was able to accomplish on his own. You and Dean weren't as enthusiastic as him for the way he was living his life compared to the way it could be. 

A delivery driver briefly interrupted your conversation so he could get Cas to sign off on some products. "I'm responsible for inventory, sales, customer service." Cas scribbled down the fake name he'd been going by and thanked the driver before continuing on of all the things he deemed important. You never liked to stick your nose up at the hard work people do for whatever job they might do, but seeing this was...pathetic. “I keep this place clean and presentable. And when my manager’s busy, I even prepare the food. 

"Wow." Dean didn't even try to hide his opinion on what he thought of this whole thing. "So you went from fighting heavenly battles to nuking taquitos?"

Cas must still be learning how to read between the lines of what people say to the tone of their voice. He didn’t understand that Dean wasn’t being supportive from the way he spoke his words. The angel still smiled, like he was proud of himself. “Nachos too.” 

You and Dean silently agreed this whole arrangement was not working out. But the angel refused to see things from your perspective. He thought what he was doing was perfect. It might be for any fellow normal human. Not for an angel like him who had done so much. He couldn’t waste out the rest of his days working nine to five and waiting on people. You wanted him back on the road with you and the boys. Trying to get his grace back and fix his home that was up in heaven. Cas continued on working, refusing to keep entertaining this conversation standing idly while he got paid. 

“This is not you, man. You are above this.” Dean tried to talk some sense into the angel while he stepped out from the stockroom carrying a box full of products. “Come on.” 

“No, Dean. I’m not.” Cas said. He set the box down on a shelf and gave you the real reason why he refused to budge on his new life. The simplicity of it all was comforting to him. “I failed at being an angel. Everything I  ever attempted came out wrong. But here, at least I have a shot at getting things right. I guess you can’t see it, but there’s a real dignity in what I do—a human dignity.” 

“Hate to interrupt you guys, but, Steve?” You looked over your shoulder when you heard a female voice jump into the conversation. A woman stood with a mop and bucket at her side, from the familiar vest she wore it was clear she was one of Cas’ coworkers. “Customer had an accident in the men’s room.”

“I’m on it.” Cas said. 

“Oh, and tonight—seven at my place work for you?” She asked a vague question that made you wonder what they were talking about. Cas nodded his head, and the way his lips stretched into a smile helped connect the dots. She returned the smile with one of her own. "You're the best." 

You picked up enough social cues to realize what was going on. Dean had a feeling himself of what was brewing between Cas and his coworker. “That’s what this is about!” You softly nudged the angel in the arm and smiled at him. Cas responded with absolute confusion at what you were hinting around. “Come on. The girl.” 

“No, Y/N. It’s not.” Cas said. You rolled your eyes and raised your brow from what he was trying to deny. Either that, or he was too naive to understand what his friend was hinting around. Cas was even more clueless when it came to things as romance. Poor fella nearly got himself killed after being led to bed by a pretty face. "Nora—she's a very nice woman, I'm pretty sure she's not a reaper intent on killing me, and she's asked me out. That’s something humans do, right?”

“Yeah. I mean, my dates used to end when I ran out of singles. And I can’t tell you the last time Y/N and I went on one.” Dean said. Your love life as hunters meant your chances of dating were rare to almost none. The world ending and angels falling out of the sky put a damper on your relationship at times. But for someone like Cas, who was trying to live like the average person, they were. Dean had to agree with him on that. “Yeah, that’s something that humans do.” 

Your conversation was briefly stopped at the sound of Dean's phone going off. He stepped away to take it when he recognized the number from the sheriff you spoke to at the first crime scene. It allowed Cas to tend back to his job to work on stocking the shelf 

“There was another kill—over at the high school.” Dean informed the both of you. “You comin’, Cas?” 

“I wouldn’t be much use.” Cas mumbled. “I don’t have my powers.” 

“So? I’ve had powers and not once did they help me with hunting.” You said. “Dean’s never had powers and he manages to do just fine.” 

“Both of you are hunters.” Cas said. 

“And you’re a hunter in training, remember?” You reminded the angel.

“Yeah.” The angel replied with the least enthusiastic tone he could muster up. You didn’t understand why he wasn’t willing to get back into the game. “Dean said I sucked.” 

You huffed out a breath from Dean's abrasiveness and turned your gaze over to the man. Your hardening expression made him suddenly regret his words spoken in the past. "I didn't say that." Dean tried to back himself out of the corner he put himself in. But he struggled to do so when you crossed your arms over your chest, waiting for his response. "I said that there was, uh, uh...you know, 'room for improvement.'"

“Come on, Cas.” You said. “For old time’s sake.” 

Cas let out a sigh of defeat, deciding to agree with the plan after all. “All right, my shift’s over in five minutes, and my date’s not until later, so…” 

“Attaboy!” You cheered, lightly slapping a hand on his shoulder from seeing him hunting again. “Dean, go make yourself useful and get the car.” 

“Not just yet.” Cas stopped the man from heading out the door. You and Dean gave the angel a confused response from the interruption. It seemed you forgot Cas was still on the clock. “I have to clean the bathroom.” 

“Have fun.” You said. You tried to hide the grimacing expression that wanted to cross your face at the idea of what he had to do. While Cas made his way over to the mop, you called out some friendly advice. “Make sure to wash your hands afterwards.”

+ + + 

The three of you arrived at the crime scene a short time after Cas finished up work. You and Dean flashed your badges to the officer keeping an eye on the scene after you ducked under the police tape guarded off the crime scene. A crowd of high schoolers gathered around to figure out what was going on. Cas trailed behind the both of you, still wearing his vest after you told him to take it off. Thankfully nobody said anything. The angel went off to explore the scene while you and Dean headed over to the sheriff who was speaking to a teenager who looked to be distraught at what she witnessed. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest and cheeks stained with tears as she retold the story of what happened to the sheriff.

“One second we’re talking, and the next, she just...stops.” The girl explained the situation that led to all of you here. “And then everyone in the cafeteria freaks, rushing and pointing out the window, at—” She couldn’t finish her sentence from the sob that escaped her from the grief she was feeling. Your expression softened as she placed a hand to her mouth to keep the noise from escaping. “Could—Could that really be her?”

The school bus that was helping block out the crowd of students was also covered in the same bubblegum pink shade you saw at the previous crime scene. Unfortunately what killed the four previous victims striked again. 

“And nobody saw anybody else at the crime scene—a man, woman, anything unusual?” You asked her, hoping she might give you some kind of lead into figuring out what might be to blame for this. The girl responded by shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders. Your next question you approached in a softer tone. “Your friend, was she possibly depressed?” 

“Depressed?” She repeated your question, not sure what you meant. 

“Any thought of suicide?” You explained a bit more bluntly. 

“Ew. No.” The girl responded in the most teenage way possible when her expression scrunched up at such a thought. “I mean, she was kind of bummed that dick-bag Travis broke up with her in front of the whole school.” Dean gave her a curious expression at what she meant by kinda bummed. “Like more bummed than when she got a ‘C’ on a quiz, and less bummed when her parents split up. Kinda...bummed.” 

The girl's tone of voice shifted into anger at the strange questions you were asking her. You figured you weren't going to get much else out of her from what she told you. You felt a slight nudge to your arm from Dean to get your attention. He nodded his head for you to follow him after discovering Cas was nowhere to be seen. You looked around yourself, but the angel disappeared. You excused yourself with a small smile before heading with Dean to find where your friend wandered off to. 

Cas made his way back to the Impala after scoping out the crime scene himself. It seemed whatever happened caused some sort of distress in him. You started to grow concerned when you found him with both hands on the hood, his body hunched forward and head hanging low. 

"Cas, what's wrong?" You asked the angel, your tone growing with concern. 

“I’ve seen this before.” Cas said. You and Dean exchanged a glance at one another from the sort of twist you weren’t expecting. It prompted you to ask him where, leading to a creature you would have never suspected. “In heaven.” 

"What?" You tried to hide your frustration from the mention of his siblings possibly to blame. But it didn't come much as a surprise to you. All sorts of angel activity had been sprouting up all over the country since the fall. "Are you saying an angel did this?"

“It’s no ordinary angel.” Cas mumbled. He fell silent for a moment, at the overwhelming energy around him. The angel might have been stripped of his powers that rendered him vulnerable as a human, but he could still feel the presence of his fellow brother. "Dean, Y/N. This is bad. This is very bad.”

You quickly moved the conversation elsewhere when the topic turned into something you didn't want a civilian or a cop to overhear. The three of you got into the Impala to further discuss what Cas discovered. And what this might mean for the rest of this town. 

“On the battlefields of heaven, there was a special class of angels, the rit zien. It's enochian for 'hands of mercy.'" Cas explained to you and Dean about the history of his fellow siblings. The one who were to blame for these murders. "They function like medics. They tended to the wounded. They healed those who could be healed, but for the mortally wounded, those who were past saving, the rit zien's job was to put them down."

“But the granulated bodies?” Dean asked. 

“This was their special ability.” Cas went on to tell you more. “They had this way of smiting that was so quick and so total that it rendered death virtually painless.” 

“Yeah, but these aren't wounded angels that they’re vaporizing,” You noted the key difference between the angels’ victims and who they were trained to take down. “they’re pepole.” 

“Right. I don’t know. The rit zien home in one pain, like it’s a beacon to them. So, when this angel fell to earth, he heard the victims’ cries, their anguish,” Cas started to piece together the reason why all these people were targeted. Pain was pain to this angel. They weren’t able to tell the difference. “Same as he’d hear an angel’s in heaven. He’s continuing his heavenly work down here. One suffering human at a time.” 

“Yeah, but this last victim was not suffering.” You said. The highs and lows of being a hormonal teenager with their fluctuating emotions was something you and Dean were no stranger to. Both of you had been the victim’s age what felt like many years ago. You knew there was no correlation to the depressed and suicidal victims he killed before. “She was just a normal, moody kid.” 

“But he just got here. The ebb and flow of human emotion—guys, I’ve been on earth for a few years, and I’ve only begun to grasp it.” Cas said. He put things into perspective at what this might mean. You slowly began to realize that everyone in this town was at risk. “To him, pain is pain.” 

“So everybody’s fair game?” Dean took a wild guess at what the angel was hinting at, Cas nodded his head. The older Winchester let out a scoff as he rolled his eyes from the furthered complications about this case. "All right, well, we got to stop him."

“You and Y/N have to stop him.” Cas corrected the man. 

You furrowed your brow slightly from the angel's response. You leaned over in your seat to catch a glimpse of his face when he turned his head to look forward. A familiar expression you'd seen before crossed his features. "You're scared."

“It’s different now, Y/N.” Cas admitted to you. “Everything feels different.” 

“You’re right.” Dean thought to himself for a few seconds before agreeing with the angel. Cas was doing fine on his own, he needed to worry about the safety of yourself with the other angel hitching around in your body. It was how things needed to be for now. “All right, Y/N and I’ll track down this kevorkian wannabe, and we’ll put him down.” 

“Okay.” The angel mumbled. 

“Stay safe, please. I don’t want to worry about you every second of the day.” You told the angel. You flashed him a farewell smile, thinking this was where your paths together ended. “Go on that date, all right? You deserve some happiness for once. Hell, live a normal life if that’s what you really want.”  

“Okay.” He repeated his response again. You gave him a funny look from how he was acting. Dean turned on the engine and looked over to the angel. A few seconds passed and Cas continued to sit in the passenger side, causing Dean to wonder if he was going to go his own way. “I need a ride.” 

You had to stifle a chuckle from the favor he was asking of you. Cas managed to find a job on his own and was adapting slowly to human life, but it seemed there were still some things he needed working on. Getting there might be a slow and steady process, yet you had a feeling Cas would be just fine on his own. 

[Next Part]

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[maidenof-thesea]

Snakes & Butterflies | Part XI

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Soulmate Au!, Fluff, Angst, Smut (in the future)

Words: 3.8k

Warning: minor swearing

Note: I’m really sorry that I haven’t posted in a while!! This quarantine is making me lazy but I was inspired today. Just a little warning this quarantine has me really desperate if you catch my drift ;) ANYWAYS I hope you enjoy! 

Reminder: * conversations in Korean *

Say anything, Y/N. Talk about the weather!

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t think of anything else, except for what happened last night. I felt my heart just race, remembering Jimin’s expression last night. I hope my face isn’t red. I couldn’t pinpoint what emotion overcame me last night. I have been attracted to other people before, and I’m pretty sure it's normal to fantasize about celebrities, such as Adam Driver. Whatever I was feeling last night was nothing like attraction...it felt more sexual...OH MY GO-

“Y/N?” Jimin said as he waved his hand in my face. I flinched away, causing him to flinch as well. “What’s the matter? You’re breathing heavily.”

“Wow!” I exclaimed, I flinched once more. I was unnecessarily loud. “This weather is something else, oh are we here? Cool!”

I then hop out of my jeep, Jimin quickly scrambles to follow me into Petco. I quickly pull out my phone and open the notes application. I found the file of Yuki’s favorite treats and what cat food she likes best. I didn't notice that Jimin went ahead and got a cart until he gently bumped into me. 

“Lead the way,” Jimin said with a dazzling smile. I felt a pain blossom in my chest. I felt my eyes water and before he could notice I cleared my throat and furiously began to blink my eyes to keep the tears at bay. I felt my face turn red once I remembered my breakdown in the shower yesterday. I walked ahead of him to the cat food aisle. There were people with their dogs shopping and kids excitedly looking at the aquariums and other animals they had displayed. 

Once we turned into the familiar aisle, an excited familiar voice shouted out.

“Miss!” said the familiar employee, as he put down a couple packages of cat food. I felt Jimin stiffen by me. “I was wondering why you haven’t come this week!”

“Oh,” I sighed, ruffling my hair nervously, I inconspicuously glanced at his nametag. “Hi, Junhong, how have you been?”

“Good,” He said smiling and also ruffling his hair. I had to look up at him to get a good look at his face. He had a couple of new piercings in his ears and his tattoos were seen through the white longsleeve he wore under his uniform. “Did you run out of cat food for Yuki?”

“Yea,” I said sheepishly, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I forgot to buy some,  I usually come before-”

“Before you run out,” Junhong finished for me. Jimin then clears his throat and Junhong quickly glances at him but simply smiles. “I was actually in the middle of stocking, but there should be some of the cat food you usually buy in the back, Jongup will give it to you.”

I politely nodded and started heading toward the back, not hearing him radio his coworker. 

*

“Hyung,” Junhong said into his radio. “The noona you like is back! She’s on her way to the back, don’t mess up!”

* 

                                  Jimin

Here I was thinking that if I came along with her on this shopping trip, I could finally be alone with Y/N but even here I am competing against all these guys. Even with me there right next to her, this guy-Jongup I guess is his name-- literally sprints from wherever he was in the back and shamelessly stares at her as he attempts to hand her a huge bag of cat food. 

“I got this,” I say stepping between them to grab the cat food. He looks startled almost as if he didn’t even realize I was there. Seriously…

“Thank you,” Y/N says with her signature smile and just as she’s about to turn around, the guy speaks up.

“How’s Yuki doing?” Jongup says attempting to start a conversation. All the while he keeps glancing at me, confusion evident in his eyes. “She hasn’t come in a while, doesn’t she need her claws cut?”

“She’s fine,” Y/N replies nonchalantly, inclining her head in confusion. “I think I set an appointment sometime next month for her to get groomed..”

“You usually come every month for that…” he says. The guy is starting to get on my nerves.

“Yea, money is a little tight, plus I have guests now..” Y/N said, this time I could tell she was feeling a little awkward. He takes another glance at me, much to my annoyance, she notices this time. “Oh, this is Jimin, my friend. He just offered to come help me, plus we have plans after this...”

“We should go, the others must be waiting,” I say feeling a bit pleased that she referred to me as a friend instead of as a guest.

 “Oh,” Jongup says in realization.  “Anyway do you think you have some spare time next weekend? Zelo-I mean Junhong and I were competing in this dance competition at the festival for charity…maybe we can have dinner after?”

Why can’t this guy take a hint? 

All the while he was talking, he was nervously pulling his sleeves up, revealing his Mark. His Mark was a faded marble. Faded..his Soulmate..

“Sure that seems like fun,” Y/N replies with a soft smile, I felt my heart drop. “Maybe the other guests would enjoy that!”

In spite of her agreeing, Jongup didn’t seem pleased with her answer. Of course she wants to go as a group. I guess Jungkook was right, she is quite clueless about dating(Much to my relief). She doesn’t even know he’s asking her out. It’s not her fault though, this guy has probably never asked out a girl... he probably never had the chance to, but still. It wasn’t like I was gonna let him.

But wait.

Is this normal behavior? I’m sure people have weird ways of mourning, I’m not really one to judge. I only did that because I was so sure Y/N rejected me, but would I have done the same if she died? I take one more quick glance at his Mark, it doesn’t seem to be too faded away, so his Soulmate must have died not too long ago. Why does it seem that this guy seems so sure of himself? He’s not even nervous about who I am. Maybe I’m overreacting. But-

“Jimin?” Y/N said quietly. I flinch and I realized they were both staring at me. “You and Hobi both majored in dance right?”

“Yea,” I shrugged. “Hyung majored in hip hop and I did more contemporary..”

“Oh!” Jongup said excitedly. “Are you Korean?”

“Yes,” I replied. “We should really get going Y/N. I’m sure Jin-hyung is losing his mind.”

“Oh yea!” She says and her eyes go wide in fear. She pulls out her phone and it starts ringing, she quickly answers. “I’m on my way! Yes I know! Yea we can go when I drop off the stuff.”

“Bye Jongup!” Y/N says as she rushes to push the cart to the cat litter aisle, leaving me alone with Jongup. 

*

“It’s fascinating,” Jongup says with a smile. “There’s not a lot of Korean people in this town, so it's quite surprising to see you here.”

*

I shrug and I start to walk after Y/N, not really in the mood to have small talk, but he follows.

“See you next weekend!” Y/N says coming from the aisle, and she quickly gestures for me to take the cart. “I have to go get some fancy feasts! I have a coupon!”

Once she came back, she paid and we started heading back to her Jeep. She quickly hops into the driver's seat and we head back home. Once we are halfway, is when I start to feel nervous. I want to ask how she got so friendly with those employees but I’m not sure if that was overstepping any boundaries. It was at this moment I felt envious towards Taehyung. Even Jungkook for that matter, they would have not hesitate to ask her how she knows them. 

“Jimin,” Y/N sighs. I felt tense. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go ahead,” I replied nervously. “You can ask me anything.”

“Do you perhaps hate me?” She asks, clutching the steering wheel. “I don’t understand you...the past two days you seem -”

“I don’t hate you,” I answered feeling tears pool in my eyes. “I could never hate you, why-”

“If not,” Y/N interrupts me. “Have I done or said anything to upset you?”

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Because you were my first friend.” Y/N says putting the car in park. I didn’t even realize we were on the driveway. “I understand that just because we were childhood friends, it doesn’t exactly mean we have to be friends now.”

“What are you talking about? Of course we’re friends!” I say in disbelief but a part of me understood what she was saying. The me from yesterday would agree with her. Before I found out about her Mark. “Listen I’m sorry about yesterday, I shouldn’t have gotten angry and left with that girl, she only approached me because of you and-”

“What?”

FUCK

“The girl you went to the rave with knows me?” I say confused. Her face flashes in my eyes and I feel my spine stiffen and my heart drop. I quickly pull out my phone and open Instagram. I quickly scrolled past the cat pictures and in my friend suggestions was her. Her most recent post was Jimin and her. “Melanie Cruz…”

“Y/N?” Jimin says nervously. I felt my eyes spring with tears and the air felt so thick, I couldn’t catch my breath. 

“Why do you always wear sweaters?” Melanie sneered. “Aren’t you hot? Or are you hiding something?”

“Y/N?”

“Where’s your sweater loser?” Melanie laughed with her friends. “Have you tried the bathroom?”

“Aww,” Melanie sighs from behind me. There my sweater was in a clogged toilet. Soiled. “Well at least you have your T-shirt still..”

“Why are you still wearing your PE shirt!” Melanie says as she slams me against the locker room door, leaving me dazed from the impact. Before I could stop her, she forces my sleeves down and I hear her gasp. “Here I thought you had a really embarrassing Mark like a rat or something but you don’t even have one! Wait until the whole school finds out!”

“Y/n!” Jimin shouts and I flinch. He’s shaking my shoulder and before he reaches up to wipe my tears, I shove him away. He looks at me in shock and I stare right back. Did he know? Did she tell him? I unconsciously clutched my arm and his eyes followed my movement and his eyes filled with regret. He knew. “It doesn’t even matter! I don’t ca-”

“Let’s go!” Jin sings songs from the porch, startling the both of us. I quickly grab the sunglasses from the console and put them on right before Jin could lean into my open window. Jimin is rigid in the passenger seat. “Why didn’t you text me back? Where do they sell napa cabbage? Everything okay here?” 

I nod and smile the best I could but Jin didn’t really look convinced. Before he could question us further on it though, out came the rest of the boys. 

“So I fed Yuki a fancy feast Y/N,” Namjoon says. “But I really think you should trim her claws. She scratched me!”

“Hyung,” Jungkook said, rolling his eyes. “I told you that she only lets Noona pet her while she eats...Yuki is a rescue pet and only trusts Noona around her hunt...what’s the matter Noona?”

“Are you all coming to get supplies for side dishes?” I ask, grateful that my voice didn’t waver but also ignoring Jungkook’s piercing gaze. Taehyung was also trying to get Jimin’s attention. Both Yoongi and Hobi were swinging their clasped hands and waiting by the SUV.

“I told them that we would need help carrying everything and that I would only need 2 extra people but they all insist on coming.” Jin sighs. “We probably have to go in the SUV.”

“Um okay,” I sigh awkwardly, sliding out of the car but before I closed it, I noticed a USB on the floor wedged between the door and the seat, I quickly put it in my pocket and closed the door. Everyone else headed to the sidewalk where the SUV was parked. “Jin?”

“Yea?” He asked, already unlocking the door to the SUV. 

“I’m gonna just stay and take a shower,” I say shrugging my hair. From the corner of my eye, I see Jimin freeze and turn around and face me real quick. “Plus I feel a headache coming.”

“But I don’t know where to go..” Jin says reluctantly.

“I know where to go hyung!” Jungkook says helpful and I felt my body sigh in relief. Jin still seemed unsure but he shrugged his shoulders and hopped into the driver’s seat. I quickly glanced at Jimin and he was staring at me intensely. I’m sure he wanted to ask me a lot of questions and even though I was horrified at the thought of him possibly being disgusted by me, I really wanted to know what he meant about not caring. Did he not care that I don’t have a Mark? Or does he not care about what she may have said about me?

As the rest of the guys are getting in the SUV, I open the trunk of the jeep so that I could start carrying Yuki’s things inside. I placed a couple of light things into a spare box I had. Just as I turn around with a box of supplies, Jimin quickly takes it from my grasp.

“Hyung!” Jimin shouts. “I’m staying too!”

Without waiting for a response, Jimin starts heading up the pathway to the house, leaving me to follow him. I wave to the boys as they drive away and before I could even turn around, Jimin snatched my wrist and pulled me inside. 

“Don’t run away,” Jimin says and his tone is unfamiliar. It sounded angry. “Could you just listen to what I have to say?”

I felt my resolve shake and I was too afraid to look into his eyes. Would his gaze be disgusted or worse filled with pity? I couldn’t bear it if it was pity. The last thing I needed-

“Jimin?”

He hugged me and his shoulders were shaking and I felt water against my neck from where he was tucking his face into my neck. He was crying. 

“Why are you crying?” I said and my voice was wavering, I was on the verge of tears myself. “Don’t cry Jimin. Please don’t cry.” 

I wrapped my arms around him, with my hands resting against his fluffy hair. 

“I’m sorry,” He sobs. “I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye, I’m sorry for leaving you all alone. I didn’t know! I didn’t know that happened to you! They told me you would be okay, but they lied!”

“What are you talking about Jimin?” I say confused, grabbing his face from my neck. I wipe his tears and quickly wipe his nose with my jacket sleeve. “Who lied to you?”

“My grandpa..said you would be fine, you would make lots of friends and live a normal life.”

This whole time...he felt guilty for leaving?

“Jimin,” I sigh. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is!” Jimin yells. “If I never left, I would have never let that bitch bully you.”

“What else did she tell you?” I say letting him go but he grasps my hand leaving it pressed against his cheek. “Besides that?”

“She said that just because you didn’t have a Mark, you wou-” Jimin says but stops abruptly, his face turning red. He takes a step back, not meeting my gaze. I sigh and take a step closer.

“Did she say I messed around alot?” 

“N-No!” He stutters and he picks up the box and just about runs into the living room. She did, that bitch. I sigh internally and follow behind him after taking my shoes off, not really paying attention to my surroundings, I end up walking into his back. He stopped in the middle of the hallway. Once more he puts the box down and turns around to face me. I looked up at him, in spite of him being shorter than the others, he was still quite taller than me. 

“Did you?” Jimin asks, his tone unreadable. I scoff and glare at him, instead of answering his ridiculous question, I try to walk around him. Once again, he grabs my arm and pulls me closer to him. Something clenched in my body and it was like fire erupted in my lower belly..the same feeling that happened last night.. “Did you mess around Y/N?”

“It must be true if that’s what she told you,” I say annoyed and I yank my arm out of his grasp. I pick up the box and head to the laundry room where I keep Yuki’s supplies. All the while Jimin follows closely behind. “You don’t have to be so protect-UGH”

He had picked me up and placed me on the folding counter. Then he wedged himself in between my legs and once more the fire burned inside my belly and I felt myself blushing furiously.

“I will always be protective of you baby,” Jimin whispered. “I’m just concerned because you haven’t really denied it…”

“Can you not say things like that? And do things like this?” I whisper back, squeezing my eyes and willing the fire to extinguish. 

“Say things like what?” Jimin says brushing my hair back from my face. “Do things like what?”

“Say things like ‘baby’ and getting in my personal space,” I whisper. “I keep getting the wrong idea..we’re friends..friends don’t do things like this..”

“I’ll stop if you just answer my question,” Jimin teases and I whine trying to push him away. I feel embarrassed because of my reaction, he must be having fun teasing me like this.

“Why are you so concerned about that?” I ask, feeling shame creep into my heart. “Why aren’t you asking about my Mark?”

Jimin pauses and takes a step back, giving me a break from his intoxicating presence. I felt my face flush in embarrassment when I noticed that my sweater was slightly lifted over my hips, where his hands were. I quickly push my sweater back down and wait for him to respond. 

“I figured you would tell me when you were ready,” Jimin sighs, leaning against the washing machine. “I had been wanting to ask you since last night but Namj-”

“Namjoon?” I say in shock. “Namjoon knows too?! Does any-”

“Yes,” Jimin says, quickly stopping me from jumping off the counter by placing his hands on my thighs. “Shh, it’s okay. Namjoon and Jungkook heard her but no one else did. I promise.”

“Okay…” I gasp, feeling the panic go away. He continues to rub my thighs until my breathing returns to normal but I gasp when his mouth presses against my neck. Did he just kiss my neck?

“What are you doing?” I gasp, willing my voice to stay normal but it came out sultry. 

“You have to answer my question now.” Jimin whispers, tickling me with his nose. He didn’t even answer my question properly! How did we end up like this? Where do I go from here on? But why does this seem so familiar. I felt the dread stiffen in me when I remembered why Melanie started that rumor. Jimin pulls back from me when he realizes I’m no longer responding to his antics. “Y/N?”

“You want to know why Melanie said I messed around?” I say not meeting his eyes. “Because of what you’re doing. Seducing me.”

“What?”

“You see,” I continue. “Once she told everyone I had no Mark in 8th grade, it was like open season for me. Because I belonged to no one, every boy would try to mess with me. It didn’t matter if I said no, they would still try to touch me, ki-”

“Stop.”

I quickly looked up and Jimin was livid. I felt my body stiffen and I felt like a helpless prey under his gaze. Why does he affect me so much? 

“I’m gonna say this one time and one time only Y/N,” Jimin says stepping closer to me. “So listen carefully babe.”

I feel my thighs clench at his tone. In spite of feeling fear, there was a part of me that knew he wouldn’t hurt me. 

“Do not ever compare me to those pigs,” Jimin says tucking my hair behind my ear. His gaze lowers to my lips. “I’m sure none of them made you feel like this. I’m sure you felt numb the moment they tried to touch you.”

I felt my eyes widen in surprise. How did he know that? I couldn’t feel a thing when this boy tried to kiss me. It was like my body was incapable of feeling pleasure. But Jimin. It was like Jimin opened this door I didn't even know existed. 

“None of them could make you feel alive like me,” Jimin whispers as he leans in. My vision goes blurry and it's almost like time stops. I feel the addicting sensation of his hands resting against my lower back as he scoots me closer. 

Thoughts are racing through my head. Is this okay? Can I kiss him? Do I want to kiss him? Will I be satisfied with just a kiss? Will he be sat-

Those thoughts are silenced the moment his pillow plump lips part against mine. The taste of cherry chapstick swirls in my mouth and without realizing it, I had pulled Jimin even closer by his hair. Jimin groans against my mouth and pulls me even closer, encouraging me to wrap my legs around his waist. I gasp when I feel his hands inside my sweater rubbing against my bare back, all the while his wet lips trace my neck, causing me to arch against him. I moan the moment I feel his teeth graze against my collarbone. 

He shivers once I pull him off once more by grabbing his hair. His eyes were glazed, lips swollen. I felt a sense of pride. I made him like this. Melanie could never, no other women before me could ever. When I caressed his face he turned his hand, kissing my fingers. My breath hitched when he pushed my sleeve up and kissed my scars, where my Mark should have been, but instead the dagger was there, almost completely faded.

I quickly looked at his arm, and for the first time I felt the overwhelming urge to see his Mark. I go to reach for his arm but I stop myself. As quick as it came, the feeling of pure bliss and desire left my body and I felt shame and guilt creep into my heart. 

“What’s the matter?” Jimin says detecting my state. “Did I do something wrong? I should have asked you first, I just got so carried away..”

“Jimin,” I whisper. “Please don’t take this the wrong way...but can I see your Mark?”

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