#my hours are also supposedly going down at work. i have yet to see evidence of that but supposedly

[sillee]

miss u :(

i miss posting!! planning on posting a lot in december!! i have a tentative video schedule

[kaijime]

watch your mouth

includes. osamu miya x f!reader

cw. corruption kink, virgin reader/first time, osamu wants to breed u <33, dubcon, kitchen sex? [it’s in his shop so?], fingering, pierced dick [prince albert piercing], vaginal penetration, size kink, praise kink, tummy bulge, breeding kink, slight dumbification, creampie, thigh slapping?

wc. 3k

a/n. my piece for @seita’s corrupt-a-virgin collab, thank you for letting me join!!

osamu miya likes to think he follows a strict routine. he wakes up early, shows up for his job, works, and goes home, waiting for tomorrow to arrive and the cycle to repeat itself.

but ever since you've entered his restaurant, you've become a part of his routine.

he sits behind the kitchen counter, watching in admiration how you tend to the customers. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't staring at your ass, but it’s not a lie if he doesn't say it right?

"samu?" there's that nickname again, the one you deemed him ever since that interview for the part time job. "this customer says you forgot to give her a part of her order"

"no i didn't"

"yeah, look" you approach him with the receipt in hand, pointing to a small part of the inked writing. "see?"

he can't see. or at least he can't see the receipt. he's too focused on you, pressing up against him. he knows you're not at fault, but you couldn't be that innocent.

you couldn't be innocent enough to not know the things you were doing to him, the things you were making him feel, the urges that blossomed with every lingering look and longing touch you left on his body. you just couldn't be.

right?

yet, even when his idiotic brother dropped by his shop and shamelessly started flirting with you, you, it seemed like you didn't catch onto what he was doing.

"what's the freakiest place you've ever had sex in?" the fake blond asked, and osamu would've stopped him, if he wasn't curious to hear the answer for himself. still, he doesn't drive his full attention away from the counters he's been wiping, seemingly focused on the simple task.

you chuckled awkwardly under your breath. "that's inappropriate, tsu-"

"c'mon, tell me" he bumps his elbow against yours "can't be that bad"

"no i-... i've never uhm..." osamu can tell you're stumbling and stuttering to find an answer, so he lends you a few helping words.

"'tsumu” he calls "will ya stop harrassin' my employees?"

"'m just talkin' to her samu, no need to make a big fuss" he downs the last of his food and leaves, supposedly in a sudden rush.

it doesn't seem like it’s been hours since then, but the moon hangs low, and the crickets sing outside the window in spite of the late hour. despite the passing of time, not a single word has been said between you and your boss about the conversation you had with his brother, and every minute that passes only seems to thicken the tension between the two of you.

"shit" you mumble, mostly to yourself. you didn’t expect him to shoot up from his place, bent down searching through the lower cabinets.

"watch yer mouth" he says, an evident frown on his face, where he would once smile at you and nod in greeting.

"sorry" you reply, lip pouting slightly while you cleaned off your finger with a paper towel "just got a papercut" the blood tints the paper red and you wince at the stinging sensation.

"here" he holds out his hand to examine yours, even though you already cleaned most of it off, there's still a slight trickle of blood. he wipes it out with the towel he always hangs on his shoulder.

as he cleans your hand, he can't help but think about how it'd look so pretty wrapped around his cock. it would certainly bring more relief than his fist after all this time he's spent thinking about you while stroking himself late at night.

it’s not the first time thoughts like these cloud osamu's mind, but this time he's a little less discreet about it. he stares at your hand like he wants to devour it, and you'd be a fool not to notice it.

"samu?" you call out to his faraway mind, and he snaps out of his thoughs, loosening his grip around your hand.

"right" he mumbles, clearing his throat "sorry"

"thank you" you almost whisper, if he wasn't so close to you, he probably wouldn't have heard it.

he turns and goes back to the cabinets, thinking about what you answered earlier. you'd never what? had sex? were you that uncorrupted?

it would make sense to him, and it would help ease the pain of seeing you let his brother flirt with you like he wasn't even there, but those are all selfish reasons he wants to believe, and he's too scared to ask.

apparently not scared enough.

“what were ya talkin’ about with my brother” he asks, nonchalant as ever, making your breath hitch as you turned around hesitantly.

“we were just chatting” you say, the slightest purse on your lips that tried to relieve the nervousness of the conversation.

“sorry about that” he apologizes. “he can be annoyin’ sometimes”

“oh no, he wasn’t” you lie, clenching around the table cloth you held in your hands. even if the talk had been going smoothly, you still felt on edge after the question his brother left you thinking about. “he was really friendly”

“really?” his hands find comfort in his pockets, and if you’d looked close enough, you would’ve seen the slight smirk in his lip, one that indicates how eager he is to hear what you had to say. “then why didn’ you answer his question?”

if only you knew how much it mattered to him, to know if you were a pretty untouched virgin or not. osamu miya likes to go for girls like you, college girls who look for a quick cashgrab as a part time employee, innocent little girls who unknowingly fall for his charms and next thing you know he’s ruining them with his cock.

but you feel different, you feel delicate. like a pretty piece of porcelain he might break if he continues to toy with you under his calloused hands. yet, he can’t help but think about how perfect he finds your body. perfectly ripe and ready to be filled to the brim with his seed, the perfect age to be plump and round with a child. his child.

“does it matter?”

oh, it does, especially when he pins you against the counter and grips your cheeks between his thumb and his index finger. “samu?” you ask, displaying that innocent look on your face he’d grown to hate.

“i told ya to watch yer mouth” his hands roam down your body until they grab at the back of your thighs. “now jump”

“samu i- i’ve never done anything like-“

“i said jump” hesitant with your actions, you jump and wrap your legs around his waist as he settles you on the shop counter, where he takes off your pants and runs a finger over your clothes slit.

“please” you grip his wrist and beg in hopes for him to stop, but he slaps it away, pinning them behind you with his other hand. he slides your panties down your legs and plays with your clit, circling the nub with his fingertips and watching as your expression changes from one of fear to pleasure.

“please what?” his breath shudders against your neck, where he nuzzles his head and finds comfort in your scent. he slowly inserts a finger into your hole, scanning your face and searching for any signs of discomfort, despite him practically forcing you into this position.

you’re not strong enough to answer him, too lost in the way his fingers feel inside you. you’d been too afraid to do anything by yourself, but god did it feel so good when you gave yourself up to him, slightly bucking your hips into his thrusting fingers and arching your back into his frame.

he’s fond of every little expression you make, the bite of your lips, the clench of your thighs around his hand, and the tilt of your head, willingly granting him access to the skin, all for him to mark, bite and suck. all for him to claim as his.

“d’ya like it?” he asks, putting another one of his fingers to use inside your tight walls, feeling them clench and suck his fingers back inside every time he was close to taking them out.

“yes! yes! i-i... mmh!” you can’t even finish the sentence, not only because you’re sobbing and clenching around his digits uncontrollably at the foreign yet pleasurable sensation, but also because his lips suddenly enclosed yours in a hungry kiss.

he didn’t even have to put up a fight with you, pleased to find you let him do whatever he wanted with your mouth. his tongue tangles with yours in a passionate clash of lips, until he pulls away at the feeling of your hips wildly bucking against his hand, a sign of your inevitable orgasm approaching.

“feels weird ‘samu! ‘s-‘samu please!” the implication of your sensations being new to you made his cock strained against his pants, threatening the thick fabric of his jeans to snap if he grew even harder. the tight knot in your stomach finally snaps when he curls his fingers, sending you into ecstasy as your vision blocked out and you moaned uncontrollably loud.

still, after everything, osamu hasn’t forgotten where he is, and he knows his shop isn’t a decent place to lose your virginity. so he puts you down with shaky legs and slips up your panties, catching you before your trembling thighs can treason you and make you fall.

“do ya have a car here?” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter and puts a hand on your hip, guiding you over to the door which he locks before he continues to walk to his car. the dim lighting of the parking made this the perfect spot, if he were to fuck you in his car, no one would see it. but he has self control, or at least he tells himself that.

“no, my friend usually picks me up” he hums an answer and opens the passenger door to his car.

“i live a few minutes from here” he explains “wanna come over?” he asks, fully aware that he’s taking a leap of faith and you could just refuse him. but that’s not the case, and he’s more than happy to see you hesitantly get in his car and put your bag in your lap, covering yourself as much as you can since he ‘forgot’ to give you back your shorts.

the short ride to his house is awkwardly silent, and terribly torturous. his hand had found home in your thigh, and it had only sent an ache between your legs like you’d never felt before, prompting a clench from your thighs every so often.

he wasn’t lying, he only lived ten minutes away from his shop, but the distance seemed so much longer when his lingering touch would leave you high with the need for more.

“you ready?” he asks, holding the door open for you again as he waits for you to take his hand and get out of his car. he’s quick with hoisting you up and wrapping your thighs against his hips, carrying you to his doorway and leading the way to his room. there, he gently placed you on the bed and stripped off his clothing, taking off the apron he should’ve taken off at the shop, his shirt, his pants and—

“eager?” he can see the wanting look in your eyes, he’d be a fool not to notice it. his voice only startles you out of your thoughts, enough to make you stand up and take off your shirt as well, now fully exposed to him if it weren’t for the bra covering up your tits. there’s only so much he can hold back, but right now, with those pretty puppy eyes you unintentionally give him, he just can’t help it when he takes off your bra and slightly suckles at your nipple, circling his tongue around your perky nub and watching your face warm up in embarrassment.

he takes you to his bed again, this time while he plants kisses all over your neck. he’s hungry with the way he nips and bites at the skin, leaving a trail of teeth marks that would need to be covered up in the morning. in the morning, because right now, you couldn’t be bothered to care about anything else other than the way he rutted against you.

his cock already seemed big when he hadn’t taken off his briefs, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he slipped them off and rubbed his tip against your clit, right?

he was huge, thick tip dripping precum, with a girth that looked too big to be real, pulsing against your pussy. he positions it against your drooling hole, using your slick to lube up his tip and feeling— metal?

you sit up, leaning against your elbows to see the prince albert piercing that runs along his tip, metal jewelry threatening to slip into your pussy, but you put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“i-it won’t fit!” you kick and shake your thighs around him, only for him to put your ankles together and fold your legs over his shoulder, pinning you down and slipping in the pierced head of his cock. you wince and gasp at the sudden stretch, silenced by his mouth clashing against yours, eagerly nipping at your bottom lip, desperate to drink in all your saccharine moans.

“good girl” he praises, slipping in inch by inch of his cock into your tight virgin walls “fuck- this tight little cunt is suckin’ me in, want ma cock princess? yeah? gonna stuff ya full of me ‘til ya can’t even speak, you’ll just be a dumb baby for me”

“hurts!” your words only drive him closer to shoving himself in one smooth thrust, but he holds back, he sees how much you struggle to take barely half of him, he wants to make this good for you to. he wants to make your first time your best time, the one you’ll remember and think about if you ever fuck another man. he wants to mold your insides to fit his cock perfectly, he wants to train you to be his perfect little girl who won’t find another way to get off if she doesn’t have his cock, he wants you to depend on him to always make you feel good.

“‘s ok princess” he leans down, folding you into a mating press as he kisses your neck and slips in the last of his cock, covered in a thin layer of white sheen. “my good girl, creamin’ around me” he mumbles against your ear while he starts a slow pace into your pussy, carefully rutting his hips into you, almost afraid he would break you. “so pretty”

“please!” you sob, tears stream down your face despite his carefulness, it would break his heart, but he can feel the way your own body betrays you, clenching around him and pulling him in for more of the delicious sensation of his cock dragging against your walls. “so big! c-can’t take it!”

“sure ya can, look” he puts a hand to your tummy, guiding you to do the same as he puts his hand over yours. there’s a small bulge, that appears and disappears whenever he thrusts in and out. “you’re takin’ it so well princess, keep yer hand right there” his other hand starts working tight circles against your clit, making you throw back your head at the sudden sensation.

“no! if you do that i-!”

“what are ya gonna do? cum? clench around my cock like yer doin’ right now every time i praise ya?” you fist the sheets to your sides, anything to relieve the aching between your legs and the tight knot that keeps forming in your stomach again.

“please don’t!” you desperately paw at his wrist, only to be slapped away and for him to increase the speed of his cock, rutting into your with more force. suddenly, the head of his piercing hits a different spot, one that left you gasping for air and arching your back against the mattress. “ah! right there- right there ‘samu!”

“yeah? you like it when i fuck ya right there?” he parrots, angling his hips at the same spot over and over, abusing it until he’s sloppily thrusting into you, on the verge of cumming and spilling all his load into you. “my pretty girl, moanin’ like a bitch in heat, all because i’m makin’ ya feel good”

“yes ‘samu! please please, please m-make me feel good! wanna cum, please!” fresh tears roll down your cheeks as you scream and beg for him, unwillingly rutting your hips against him as you cum around his cock, your high too much for your sensitive body as you whine uncontrollably when he doesn’t stop. you’re too overstimulated to say a word, gone too dumb on his cock to even realize that you’re babbling little nonsense words about how good you feel, and how much you want him.

“dumb lil’ thing” he says, giving one sharp, final thrust before he empties his load between your legs, deep inside you, careful not to move you too much in fear of his cum spilling out of your clenching hole.

he’s right, you are a dumb little thing, because as soon as he pulls out you’re desperately bucking your hips, blindly searching for him in hope he would fill up the sudden emptiness in your pussy, unintentionally spilling all his hard work between your thighs.

“no!” he grunts, slapping your thigh and grounding you to the mattress as you wince in pain, dark color blossoming at the skin where he’d placed the spank. “look what you’ve done, bad fuckin’ girl” he says, the sudden tone shift sends a tinge of fear all over your body, and you’re reduced to nothing but a kin to a stray puppy, a terrible look of guilt in your eyes, even if you don’t realize what you’ve done wrong.

“look at the mess you made” he mumbles, flipping you over and placing ass up “now i’m gonna have to fill ya up all over again”

©️ kaijime 2021 | all content belongs to kaijime, do not modify or repost

[elysianslove]

secret relationship; tsukishima kei, tanaka ryūnosuke, yamamoto taketora 

requested by anon(s); their respective teams finding out about their relationships 

pairings; tsukishima kei x reader, tanaka ryūnosuke x fem!reader, yamamoto taketora x fem karasuno manager!reader

genre; fluff

warnings; none! (maybe a few curse words)

note; i’m so sorry tsukki’s so much longer than the other two oh my

tsukishima kei 

━━  in your defense, neither of you had heard the blaring alarm, and supposedly, no one else in his home had either. after having unintentionally lost track of time with your boyfriend the night prior that it had gotten a little too late for you to head home safely, you’d agreed to kei’s suggestion to spend the night, and fell asleep in his arms. that wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary. you couldn’t count on ten fingers the nights you’d spent at his home, waking up with your limbs tangled with his, despite the fact that he insisted cuddling was his least favorite thing to do. missing the alarm is what’s unusual. kei’s not the heaviest of sleepers, evident in the way he nearly tramples you every night, suffocating you to him and restricting your movements. the fact that he hadn’t heard it, and had left to ring annoyingly loud until it gave up was confusing enough. 

this wouldn’t pose as much of an issue if it weren’t for your situation. on the contrary, really; you loved nothing more than waking up at the hour you desire, kei still sound asleep by you. he always looked a lot calmer, a lot less tense, his mind a little quieter. his arms were caging you in, giving you enough freedom to tilt your head back and admire him, as his chest rose and fell gently, as his eyes fluttered lightly with the remnants of a dream. in the quiet of his room, you wondered what those golden irises could see. 

but of course, a sleepy, fuzzy, lovesick brain wasn’t a luxury for long, and the blurriness began to slip away, just as reality began catching up. your mind began to process the time that the clock that hung opposite you read (too late in the afternoon), then the day of the week (sunday, practice day), then, the cherry on top of the cake — the sound of heavy footsteps, too many footsteps, loud, familiar voices. and finally, the fact that you weren’t supposed to be where you were: in kei’s bed. 

you’d encountered his — friends on countless occasions, just never as his significant other. at first, it had left you slightly insecure, wondering if kei was somehow ashamed of you, embarrassed to be tied to you. eventually, however, you’d figured that it hadn’t been shame or embarrassment. he’s just a private person, and if anything, it’s possessiveness: the desire to keep you and all that you are to himself. not that he’d ever have to share once you were exclusive to his teammates, but it’s more that he also wants the idea and thought of you secret. he wants to luxury of calling you his to be private, just something he can enjoy. and maybe you liked the thrill of it too, seeing as you’d agreed, for the time being. you liked the rushed kisses in fear of getting caught, and the secret glances he’d offer you during school hours, and the way he held your hand beneath the table for no one but you to know about. you liked it, and you respected his wishes. 

when the footsteps drew closer, you realized just how screwed you are, and it would mean a lot worse for you to be caught slipping away through the window than to be caught in bed, so you lean up, hugging yourself tighter to him, and bring your lips by kei’s ear. shaking him slightly, you whisper, “baby, wake up. the boys are here.” 

kei rustles around, blinking slightly, before huffing and wrapping his arms tighter around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling incoherently. 

you stifle a laugh at his clingy reaction, wishing that this was somehow being recorded. with laughter behind your tone, you repeat your words, shaking him harsher. “kei,” you drawl, whining. “kei, we’re gonna get caught.” 

he only mumbles again, breath hot on your neck. 

“tsukki! tsukki!” 

shit, nishinoya and tanaka were also here?

“kei, baby, you are going to be mortified when you wake up,” you warn, but nonetheless, you continue to hold him to you, bringing a hand up to his hair and sighing. “don’t kick me for trying to warn you.” 

the door bursts open, followed by tanaka’s sing-song voice calling out for your boyfriend. he leads the way into the bedroom, head high and eyes closed, as him and three of kei’s teammates march in. he’s oblivious to your head peeking out beneath the crook of kei’s neck, until his eyes open, his hands faltering on his hips as he finally registers your face. 

you grin up at him, fingers waving at him in greeting. “hey,” you call out cheekily. 

tanaka freezes, head cocking to the side as he’s pushed away while the other three file in. as soon as nishinoya notices you, he clamps his hand over his mouth, his mouth wide with laughter and eyes lost in shock. yamaguchi’s face is tinted red, glance frozen at you, while sugawara, ever the sadist, laughs freely and loudly. 

“so this is why he’s late?” tanaka yells in a hushed tone. 

sugawara, still laughing, grabs his phone from his jacket’s pocket, switching to the camera app quickly and lifting it up to snap a photo. you throw up a peace sign. 

“tsukki, you ass!” nishinoya shouts, leaping quickly onto the bed, forcing you and kei to shift suddenly. “get up, get up, get the fuck up!”

the boy in your arms groans, his eyes still shut tightly as he finally loosens his hold on you, rolling onto his back. a hand is lifted up to his face as he rubs away the sleep in his eyes, while nishinoya positions himself to stand directly above him, feet on either side of his hips as he leans down, peering straight at his face. 

kei’s eyes finally open, hand falling to his side in search of yours as it always does, before he looks up, and spots nishinoya sporting the cheekiest of expressions. he sighs in preparation of the teasing to come, and exhales sharply. 

“shit.”

sugawara is yet to stop laughing. 

tanaka ryūnosuke

━━  “ryu, you’re late to practice.” 

the boy in question shushes you quietly, hugging you tighter to him as he whispers out, “five more minutes,” lips brushing against the nape of your neck, down to your shoulder blades. your back is pressed to his bare chest, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. you rest a hand on that arm, stroking it gently as you try to wake him up. 

with how the boys had been progressing with volleyball, practice hours had increased, and therefore quality time with ryu had decreased. there was a little voice in the back of your head egging him on, urging you to cuddle back into him and let him nuzzle into you more, the part of you that missed him, missed all of him. there was a more logical side of you that knew better, that acknowledged all the work and effort he’d put to get where he is today, and that didn’t want him to miss out any opportunity to grow, or to put all that effort to waste. so you sigh, gripping at his forearm tightly as you try to get away. 

“come on, babe,” you whine, attempting desperately to try and get away from him. 

“woah, ryu, you got a girl with you or something?”

you freeze. ryu freezes. the world stops. 

that had definitely been nishinoya’s voice, there was no doubt about that. and it isn’t like the both of you had kept your relationship a secret from your mutual friends deliberately. it had just never came up in conversation. maybe they were just blind, honestly. there had been no hiding it: you held hands, you hugged him tight after every win, he walked you home after evening practice after school, you hung out during school all the time. so really, it isn’t your fault that no one put two and two together. 

you’d just hoped it wouldn’t be in such a comprising situation. you don’t even have pants on.

“holy shit, you do— what the fuck!” your boyfriend’s teammates scream is piercing, and eardrum shattering. you wince at the sound, fingers tightening around ryu’s arm. once nishinoya processes what he’s seen, and who he’s seen, he storms outside of the bedroom, leaving the door ajar behind him, allowing you to listen in on his yells.

somehow, ryu’s still sleeping. 

“you guys are not going to believe what i just saw,” you hear nishinoya calling out and — holy shit, was the whole team here? was he really that late to practice? 

you manage to break free of ryu’s unrelenting grasp just as the footsteps group by your boyfriend’s bedroom door. they all walk in as you try and fix your bed hair, smiling weakly as one by one, they fill up the room. raising a hand, you sheepishly smile and wave, calling out a low, “morning everyone.” 

looking to your left, you find ryu still sleeping. with the way hinata’s bouncing over to where the two of you lay, you doubt it’ll be for long. secret was meant to be outed at some point, wasn’t it? 

yamamoto taketora 

━━  as you and your team finally arrive at your destination, nekoma high, the bus comes to a stop, parking off to the side. immediately, the boys are jumping from their seats, eager to stretch their limbs and greet their long distance friends. you, kiyoko and yachi take your time in comparison to them, gathering all your things, stretching yourselves out. yachi and kiyoko are first to leave between the three of you, working on keeping your teammates in check and making sure none drift off, while you stay behind, checking in on the bus to make sure nobody left anything behind (which you’re glad you always do, because both hinata and kageyama had forgotten their phones). stepping off the bus, you raise your arms up in a stretch, bones cracking satisfyingly. you squint up at the sun as you sigh, hand coming up to shield yourself from it. 

“shōyō, kags!” you call out, walking up to the group of boys huddled around each other, both nekoma and karasuno. “forget anything?” you place their phones in either hand, giving them playfully disapproving looks as they shamefully take it from you, red dusting their cheeks and a low sorry spilling from their lips. your expression twists into a cheerful one, and you wave them off. 

as the herd of people begins to move, you plan on following, until you hear your name yelled out loudly, in a very distinct, familiar voice. excitement overtaking you, you turn the other way, dropping your bag to the ground and jumping into the awaiting of your arms of your long distance boyfriend. 

“tora baby, i missed you!” you squeal, arms wrapping tight around his neck and legs around his waist, ankles hooked as he rocks you from side to side. he hugs you with just as much earnest, burying his face in your neck gratefully. 

he hums by your ear, pressing a wet kiss to your neck as he says, “missed you more. more than you could ever imagine.” 

you chuckle lightly to yourself, lifting your head up and leaning back to glance at him. “sap,” you tease, tilting your head closer. 

“hey, you were the one that jumped into my arms,” he argues. 

you quirk an eyebrow. “you were the one that yelled out my name and ran at me,” you retort. “like we’re in some sort of rom-com.” you’re rolling your eyes, but your heart’s beating unsteadily at the way he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. unwilling to continue your banter, having missed him, and missed kissing him too much to do so, you lift a hand to the nape of his neck and push his lips closer to yours, finally kissing him properly. 

you’re not able to enjoy it for long, feeling a hand grab at the collar of your jacket on the back of your neck. it pulls at you until you break from the kiss, until you’re forced out of your boyfriend’s arms, and stumbling onto the ground back on your feet. 

“have some decorum, manager,” daichi teases, and you roll your eyes, reaching out again for taketora. 

he takes you into his arms easily, letting you rest your head on his chest, and wrapping your arms around his waist. “he’s just jealous that we’re in love,” he jokes, and you huff out a laugh, allowing him to steer you away from the small crowd, and towards the gym, leaving your boys and his teammates behind. 

“am i the only one that’s like, shocked?” ennoshita breaks the silence. 

“really? i’m more heartbroken,” nishinoya joins in, earning a smack from daichi. 

tanaka breathes in steadily. “kiyoko-san, please don’t be next,��� he pleads. 

“tanaka-san, please stop being dramatic.” 

[hercleverboy]

stars

spencer reid x fem!reader

summary ↠ spencer and the reader watch the stars and talk about their future.

category ↠ fluff

warnings/includes ↠ none

word count ↠ 1.7k

dedicating this fluff fest to my wifey, @alltooreid thank you for not only your creative input on this, but also for being there for me when i needed someone. much love <333

“And so I named the stars one by one, after every favourite memory of you.” — Stephen Stilwell

“Isn’t it beautiful?” She whispered, eyes staring up into the night, drawn to the little specks of light dotted in the clear sky. They were laid on the soft grass, blanket beneath them as they looked up together, beaming smiles on both their faces.

He grinned down at the woman who rested her head on his chest, his arms wound tightly around her. “It certainly is. I’m surprised the sky is so clear tonight, I really didn’t think we were going to be able to see much.” He admitted with a little laugh.

She chuckled at that. “You didn’t think we’d see much, and yet you still let me drag you out here at an ungodly hour so we could watch the stars?” She asked, shuffling slightly so she could look up at him.

“Of course. You’re cute when you’re excited, I didn’t have the heart to tell you that the probability of the sky being clear enough for us to see anything was only around 37%.” He explained, intertwining their hands together. “But there you go again, proving me wrong.”

“Hm. Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” She joked, making him roll his eyes.

“I am! Unless you too can recite the Bible from memory? Or the manual for our microwave?” He joked, causing Y/N to give him a gentle shove.

“Can I ask you something?” She whispered, looking up at him.

He breathed out. “Anything.”

They were quiet for a little while before she spoke again. “Do you ever think about our future?”

Spencer’s breath hitched at the question.

Of course, he thought about their future. All the time. Marriage, kids, a big house with a white picket fence, perhaps even a dog. It was the ‘apple-pie’ life he’d dreamt of, more than he’d like to admit.

He gave her a squeeze, one of reassurance.

They’d been together for two years. Two years that had simultaneously been the best and worst of his life. In those years he’d nearly died after being shot in the neck, he’d lost Alex, Kate, Gideon, and the team was still under immense threat from Mr. Scratch. And somehow, admist all the chaos, he’d met this incredible woman who had helped him through it all. The last few months in particular had been rough for him. With Morgan leaving the team and his mother’s condition worsening, it had certainly made him reconsider everything he had in his life and also reminded him of not only what he’d lost, but what he’d gained. 

Y/N sighed, but still gave Spencer a smile. “It’s ok. We don’t have to talk about it, I was only wondering.”

“No, no. It’s ok. I’m just trying to gather my thoughts, is all.” He assured her, moving to sit up straight. Y/N sat up too, Spencer reaching out and grabbing one of her hands to hold tightly in his. “I think about it all the time, truthfully.” He mumbled.

“You do?”

“Of course, I do. You’re it for me, Y/N.” He gave a small smile, his gaze dropping to their intertwined fingers. “It’s just, I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

Y/N nodded, urging him to continue.

“I’ve been thinking about my position at the BAU.” He stated firmly. Y/N’s eyes widened slightly in shock, surprised at the confession. The way he said it was so sure, so certain. He’d evidently been thinking about it for quite some time.

“Ever since Morgan left, I’ve been going over it again and again in my head. I understand why he left. His family needed him and it’s honestly the most admirable thing I’ve ever seen him do. I just wonder,” He paused, biting down on his lip in thought. “Would it be wise for me to make the same decision he did?” 

Y/N frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean— Y/N I love you. I want us to get married, have children, I want us to have a life together. And after watching Morgan, seeing how he gave up the job for his family, don’t you think I should do that too? For you, for us?” He explained, eyes finally meeting her worried ones.

“Woah, woah Spence. Are you saying you’re thinking of leaving the BAU?” She clarified, moving a little closer to him.

Spencer nodded. “I know, it seems crazy right? At first I couldn’t believe that I was even considering it but I’ve thought about it a lot and it just, it seems like the right thing to do.” He gave a small shrug. “If we’re going to have a life together I want our family to be my priority, and I just don’t think I can do that while I’m still doing this job. I’ve seen it all first hand. I watched Hotch lose Haley, I watched Morgan nearly lose Savannah, all because of this job.” 

Y/N shook her head slowly, much to Spencer’s surprise. “Spencer... I won’t be the reason that you leave a job that you worked so hard for, a job that you love so much. What about the team? They’re your family- “

It was Spencer’s turn to shake his head, cutting her off mid-sentence. “You’re right. The team are my family, but so are you. And if they care about me like I know they do, they’ll support me with this. And as for jobs? There are plenty out there that I’ll enjoy. I’ve actually been thinking of getting in contact with Alex, maybe asking about teaching opportunities at Georgetown.”

Y/N looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing as she studied his face intently. He avoided her eyes, small smile pulling at his lips.

She smiled back, a knowing look on her face. “You’ve already spoken to Alex about it, haven’t you?”

Spencer chuckled with a nod. “You know me too well. I spoke to her last week. She said there’s an open spot as the head of the Criminal Psychology department. The job is mine if I want it.”

Y/N gave him a grin, squeezing his hands. “Are you sure this is what you want?” He nodded, but that wasn’t enough for her. “No, I need to hear you say it. I need to know that you’re not going to resent me in a few years because of this.”

He was quick to shake his head, pulling her toward him as one of his hands came up to cup her face. “I would never resent you.”

“So, this is what you want?” She asked once more, just so she knew he was absolutely sure. 

He nodded adamantly. “I want you. I’m only ever going to want you.” He murmured the words so softly that it made Y/N’s heart ache. “Now, and for the rest of my days.”

With joyful tears building in her eyes she nodded, enveloping him in a hug as he kissed the side of her forehead.

Spencer let out a sigh accompanied by a teary smile. He gave her a squeeze, his hands soothing along her back as he looked up at the stars. “Did you know, there’s an old Buddhist saying that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. We’re supposedly, quite literally, bound together through space and time. Isn’t that cool?” He rambled, earning a chuckle from Y/N.

“That is really cool.” She agreed. 

“You know I’m a man of science, but how else is it possible that you came into my life at a time where I needed you the most?” He whispered the last part, as though he was afraid to be so vulnerable as to let the words leave his lips. “Do you- do you think it’s possible that the stars brought us together?” 

She grinned, tilting back her head slightly to look up at the stars with him. “Yeah, I think so.” 

*

Spencer looked down in awe at the baby girl pressed against his bare chest. Josephine June Reid, barely three days old and already she had her father wrapped right around her tiny finger. Nothing he’d ever felt before compared to the feeling he had when he looked down at her, his little girl, his daughter. She slept peacefully against him, her little chest rising and falling rhythmically as his hands soothed over her back, gently rocking her. 

There was a soft knock on the nursery door, his tired-looking wife pushing it open. “Spence?”

He looked up, and offered her a warm smile. “Hey, you’re supposed to be resting.”

Y/N gave a sleepy grin, moving toward them. “You know that we’re supposed to sleep when she does, right?”

He snickered at that, raising an eyebrow at her. “You only gave birth three days ago. You know I’m going to tell you to get back into bed, right? Doctor’s orders.”

She held her hands up in a mock surrender, placing a kiss on the side of Spencer’s head. “I know.” 

It was silent for a moment, the new parents just staring down at the little life they’d created, filled with such a warmth, such a happiness that they’d never felt before. 

“I can’t put her down, not yet. I don’t want to let her go.” Spencer whispered, bringing up a finger to soothe over his daughter’s cheek. “I love her so much.”

“I know. She loves you too.” Y/N assured, watching with joy at how Spencer was with their daughter. He really was a natural with kids.

“You really should go back to bed, love. You need all the rest you can get.” He warned in a playful tone.

Y/N chuckled a little with a nod, bending down to press a gentle kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “I’m not going to fight you on that one Doc, I’m exhausted.” She ruffled the curls on her husband’s head, offering him a warm smile. “Love you. Come back to bed soon, yeah?”

Spencer nodded, promising he would.  

Before Y/N left the nursery, she turned back to her husband, calling his name softly. “Spence?”

“Yeah, love?”

“Do you regret it now?” She whispered, her fingers fumbling together as though she was afraid she wouldn’t like his answer. “Do you regret leaving the BAU?”

The question made him frown, it made him think. Did he regret leaving? 

His eyes flickered between his wife and the beautiful little girl against his chest and he smiled slightly at the realisation. This was everything he’d ever wanted, here, right in front of him. Every decision he’d made, every moment of heartache, every person he’d lost, they had all lead him there. To that very moment. 

And for that, he was so incredibly grateful. 

“No.” He replied, his voice as sure as the day he first mentioned leaving. “Not even for a second.”

He supposed he had the stars to thank for that. 

[starlight-loki]

Precautionary Surveillance (Loki x Reader)

Or, That Time You and Loki Became Friends

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: none :)

A/N: this is platonic (and gender neutral! :D )

As this is my first imagine, I kind of just wanted to establish how the reader first meets Loki, but I’ve got plenty more fluff in the works! ;)

also this takes place post-Ragnarok, but Infinity War doesn’t exist here, shHHHH

Despite the long list of risks and expectations that came with living with the Avengers in their compound, you never thought that babysitting Loki would be included. And yet, a mere two weeks after having moved into the compound, Tony sheepishly approached you with the news.

He didn’t word-for-word call it ‘babysitting’ of course, but you knew it was definitely implied. 

“Think of it as... precautionary surveillance.” Tony had explained to you that morning as he packed a small backpack, supposedly containing enough supplies to last for a week-long mission. “Or if that’s too much, just be normal roommates. But check in on him every few hours. Make sure he’s not destroying anything. And don’t let him go out. Or to my lab. Or Bruce’s. Or the roof-”

“Okay, I get it Tony,” you rolled your eyes as you heaved out a sigh. “You want me to babysit Loki.” 

Tony shrugged, and patted your shoulder empathetically before zipping up his backpack. “Your words, kid. Not mine. Like I said, it’s just precautionary surveillance, we’ll be back before you know it.” 

“I don’t understand why you can’t just bring him along with you!” You protested, throwing your hands up in the air. “His fighting skills and abilities would be really useful for your mission, you know that right?”

You were fine with the fact that Tony and Steve weren’t confident enough in your fighting abilities to bring you along on missions just yet -- frankly, you were completely happy staying behind and burying your nose in a book. But now Tony wanted you to babysit Loki, going so far as asking you to log any ‘suspicious activity’ from the god. You thought the entire thing was ridiculous.

“You know why, Y/N.” Tony began sternly, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and starting towards the quinjet hangar. He was walking briskly, and you scowled as you had to practically run after him. “The New York Incident? The two-hundred or so times he’s betrayed Thor? That time he stuck his dad in an old folks home here and just paraded around Asgard in disguise for two years?”

“New York was nearly ten years ago!” You protested. “Look at him now, all he does is putter around the compound in sweatpants because you won’t let him out-”

Tony sighed loudly, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Look, I know you’re new here and you mean well, but we don’t trust him Y/N. Thor dragged him here because Asgard’s gone and there’s nowhere else for them to go, but Loki is not one of us. It’s going to be a damn long time before any of us think anything different of him.”

You glowered at Tony, fighting the tiny glow of anger that sparked in your heart when you heard him talk about Loki like that. 

You had stolen glances at Loki last week when he thought no one else was looking, and you knew he was far from the dysfunctional maniac who tried to take over New York all those years ago. Sure, the dysfunctional part may still remain, but he was far from a maniac -- you could see that in his features when he sat on the couch alone that day, flipping through a small worn book. 

He looked... lost. Empty almost, as if any possibility of a joyful life had been stripped from him. It hurt your heart to see someone sit with their own melancholy the way Loki did. The fact that no one else in the Compound trusted him -- evident from the fact that you were being put on babysitting duty this instant -- didn’t make things any better. 

“Take care of yourself, kid.” Tony said, pulling you in for a fairly awkward one-armed hug. “Keep an eye on Loki, but don’t do anything stupid.”

You frowned. “What does that mean?” 

“Just... keep your distance from him.” 

Tony’s words brought the image of Loki sitting alone in sadness back to the front of your mind, and you decided right then and there that you were going to do exactly the opposite of what Tony was suggesting. 

The first day felt like an eternity. Loki remained in his room with the door shut, and with no one else to chat with and pass the time, time seemed to crawl at an eerily slow pace. 

You made pasta for dinner. You figured the sound of pots, pans, and kitchen utensils clanging every now and then as you cooked would summon the lonely Asgardian out of his room to eat at the very least, and you couldn’t help the little sting of disappointment that appeared when you finished your meal as alone as you had been earlier. 

After placing your own bowl in the sink, you grabbed Loki’s portion you had set aside and padded down the hall to his room. You tried to ignore the slight tremble in your hand as you knocked on his door. 

“Loki?” You asked gently. “You there?”

You were greeted with a faint shuffling noise, but otherwise there was nothing but silence. 

“I made you dinner. I haven’t seen you all day, you must be hungry... um... I mean, you don’t have to eat of course if you don’t want to, but I’ll just... I’ll leave this here at your door if you want it. No pressure.” 

You felt fire rush to your cheeks as you cursed yourself silently for rambling, and carefully set the bowl of pasta on the floor. 

“If you want anything,” you added quickly in a voice that was barely louder than a whisper. “More food, tea, some company... I’m in the other room.” 

You stood frozen at Loki’s door for a moment, waiting for any sort of response. Earning nothing but more silence, you nodded to yourself before turning on your heel and heading back for the kitchen. 

You looked back over your shoulder before you rounded the corner at the end of the hall, and the pasta bowl was gone. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. 

The second and third day passed much like the first. If it weren’t for the fact that Loki was constantly on your mind, it would’ve felt like you had the entire place to yourself. You would have enjoyed the quiet, but there was a part of you that couldn’t stop worrying about Loki. 

After the god failed to leave his room once again, you brought dinner to his door which was hastily accompanied by another short little babble of an invitation to join you in the living room if he wished. Just like day one, you were greeted with silence and a meal that vanished out of the hall just before you turned the corner. 

On the fourth day, you couldn’t get Loki out of your head no matter how hard you tried. Was he lonely? Bored? Did he sleep the entire day? Did he even sleep at all? The rooms in the Compound were just about the same: spacious, yet minimal in decoration. Everyone got a TV and a small bookshelf in the corner, but that was about it. Judging by the fact that Tony and the rest of the Avengers weren’t allowing Loki to leave the Compound, you figured he probably didn’t have much for entertainment. 

Before you could convince yourself otherwise, you dashed off to your beloved little bookstore in the city. You ransacked the shelves for anything you felt Loki would’ve liked, as well as books you adored and would’ve wholeheartedly recommended to anyone else. If Loki was going to spend all day in his room, he deserved to have new books to keep him company, at the very least. 

Two hours later you returned home, your shoulder aching from the countless books that were weighing you down in the best way, and to your surprise you found Loki with his back to you in the kitchen. 

Was he... doing the dishes for you? 

You dropped your tote bag of books to the ground in surprise, and Loki flinched almost imperceptibly at the dull thud that echoed throughout the open space of the Compound. 

“Hi,” You managed breathlessly as the god turned and looked at you with wide eyes for the briefest second. You blinked, and just like that Loki had regained his cool composure. “You’ve finally come out of your room.”

Loki opened his mouth to reply, his eyes scanning the room as he searched for an excuse. After a moment of silence, he sighed. 

“Thank you for the meals. I appreciate it.” 

You took off your coat and hung it on the chair as you approached him. Your heart sank ever so slightly as you caught Loki take the smallest step back. 

“Of course, I mean... we all gotta eat right?” You laughed quietly and looked away as you ran a hand through your hair. “You don’t have to clean up, I can do that.” 

“It was the least I could do in return.” 

The silence that grew between the two of you seemed to amplify with every passing second. Loki nodded, almost out of resignation, and began to walk back to his room without a word. 

Now was your chance, if you wanted to make him feel welcome like you had hoped to. 

“Wait!” Your voice came out more as a squeak and you tried your best to ignore the fire that rose to your cheeks. “I, uh, I got these for you.” 

As you bent down to retrieve your fallen bag of books, you heard quiet careful steps as Loki approached you cautiously. He kept his distance, but leaned a little closer to you as you began laying all the books out on the table for him to see. 

“I picked out a few books I’ve read and love dearly. I figured you could give them a try. And... I, uh, saw you reading Shakespeare last week, so I thought you might like these two.” You gestured to the novels closest to him. “They’re  Ancient Greek tragedies.”

You glanced at Loki, and noticed how he picked up Oedipus Rex and began flipping through the pages carefully, as if the book were to vanish from his hands at any moment. 

“I’ve never read this one before,” Loki mused quietly. Your heart skipped a beat as his steady gaze moved to meet your eyes. “When would you like me to return these to you?”

You blinked in surprise. “They’re for you to keep.” You smiled. “I bought them for you.” 

You watched as gratitude, then confusion, then what almost looked shame flash across Loki’s features. He almost seem to clutch the book tighter in his grip.

“...Why?”

You pulled out the chair that you were leaning against and sat down with a sigh as you looked up at Loki. 

“I don’t like how everyone’s been treating you.” You admitted quietly.

“So this is out of pity?” Loki asked cooly, nodding at the books on the table with narrowed eyes.

 “No!” You exclaimed, shaking your head rapidly. “No, Loki, that wasn’t my intention at all. I mean, I’ve only been here two weeks and I could see immediately that everyone keeps their distance from you. You’re not allowed on missions-”

“Neither are you.” Loki cut in. You dismissed him with a wave of your hand. 

“Yeah, but I’m the weakest link at the moment. I don’t count.” You replied quickly, trying your best to ignore the intrigue on Loki’s face as he gazed at you. “I saw you last week, reading your book. You looked so lonely. I thought maybe you just wanted some space, but I’ve noticed how the others treat you. Tony and everyone else, they leave you out of everything! They don’t try to include you in conversations at dinner, you wear the same two pairs of clothes everyday because no one’s bothered to get you any decent clothes besides sweatpants. Hell, Tony kept me off this mission to babysit you and it makes me so mad! You’re an adult! You deserve your own freedom, Loki!”

You slammed your hand down on the table in frustration, and winced as your words replayed in your head. You definitely went overboard this time. You should’ve just given Loki the books and left.

You were certain Loki was going to retreat back to his room as he moved away from you and around the table, but to your surprise, he sat down in the chair across from you, his hands clasped carefully together.

“Perhaps Stark is right, this is what I deserve.” He said quietly, breaking the silence that resided between the two of you. “I haven’t exactly been... welcoming to anyone.”

You shook your head. “You lost Asgard, your family... Thor brought you here with the intention of this being your new home. The least everyone could is treat you like a person, not a hostage. This isn’t a prison. You deserve so much more than that.” 

“They don’t want me around.” Loki said simply. 

“I do.” You held his gaze unwaveringly, and reached out to place your hand gently over his. To your surprise, he didn’t pull away. “I want you around. You matter to me.” 

Loki sighed, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief second as he took in your words. 

“Thank you.” He spoke slowly. “Your words -- and your actions -- mean more than anything Stark or anyone else has done in the time I’ve been here.”

You smiled in response, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before pushing his books towards him. 

“You’ve got plenty of things to do while you’re in your room now.” You grinned nodding towards the books on the table. Anyone else would’ve missed it, but you caught Loki return your smirk for a split second. 

“I think I would prefer to read my books out here... with company.” 

The following day was nothing like the others. To your surprise, Loki greeted you with a small smile from his spot on the couch as you trudged bleary-eyed into the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

“You look tired.” He remarked quietly as you began searching the cupboards for something to eat. You managed a shrug.

“I don’t sleep that great most nights.” You admitted. You heard Loki get up from the couch, setting his book down on the coffee table gently before approaching you. He still kept some distance -- the kitchen counter did a good job of separating the two of you -- but he leaned in, almost grateful to be in the presence of someone who truly saw him. 

“Me neither.” Loki chuckled. “Thor sleeps like the dead, but I rarely sleep well. That’s how my love for books began, actually.”  

“Me too!” You exclaimed excitedly. “I’d stay up reading till 1 or 2 AM some nights as a kid. I’d have to use a flashlight and hide under the covers so I wouldn’t wake anyone up.”

That earned a genuine laugh from Loki, whose smile suddenly began to look like sunshine in your eyes. 

“I used magic to see in the dark, but hiding under the covers was the only way I could read at night without waking Thor up.”

“You shared a room with Thor?” 

Loki nodded, scoffing a little. “My mother thought it would help reinforce our bond as brothers. A lot of good that did.”

You leaned in towards him, your posture mirroring his as you rested your arms against the kitchen counter. 

“Thor still loves you.” You said quietly, a small smile touching your lips for a brief moment. Loki rolled his eyes.

“Sure he does.”

“No, really. He wouldn’t have brought you here to live with him if he didn’t. You guys got here before me of course, but I’m sure he had to pull a lot of strings to get Tony to agree to have you live in the Compound.” 

There was that silence again, like the day before, settling down gently between the two of you. You lowered your gaze to your hands. 

“Sorry. I meddle too much. I should stop.” 

This time, it was Loki who placed his hands over yours gently. 

“No,” he replied softly. “You speak your mind, I admire that. It shows you have strength.” 

“I don’t always feel strong.” You admitted quietly. 

“Only the foolish admit their own strength.” Loki whispered.

“...Does that mean Tony’s a fool?”

“Your words, not mine.”

A laugh bubbled up out of you at Loki’s words, and as your eyes met his, you noticed the loneliness you had seen before was gone. 

In their place was the warmth of a thousand suns. 

The two of you stood there, hands intertwined almost as if to keep the other afloat. Loki’s hands made yours seem small, but his were warm and soft and surprisingly gentle.

You closed you eyes, taking as much of this moment in as you could.

“I wish they’d let you outside.” You sighed quietly. “There’s so many shops and restaurants I think you’d like. You’d love Central Park, too.”

Loki frowned. “When is everyone due back?”

“In two days. Why?” 

You got a smirk in response. “Let’s go now.”

You let out a surprised laugh at Loki’s suggestion. It thrilled you to see this side of him.

“We can’t! Tony’s got cameras around the building, he’ll see us if we leave.”

Butterflies filled your insides for a brief moment as Loki suddenly winked at you. He raised his hand, which had begun to glow with a green hue, before snapping his fingers. Green sparks flashed briefly from the windows as he did so. 

“I believe Stark will be needing to replace his cameras once everyone returns. Where do you suggest we go first?” 

[ynscrazylife]

I was thinking maybe a oneshot where B!D gets poisoned by Cadmus?

Sisterly Instincts 

Summary: Y/N is Kryptonian who landed on Earth a few years after Kara. When CADMUS kidnaps her, they inject her with a poison made out of their version of Kryptonite, which is very harmful to her.

Authors Note: Thank you for requesting!

Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

DCEU Masterlist | Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/mundodeseriess

Image ID: Alex and Kara sitting together. Alex has her eyes closed, head on Kara’s shoulder, arm wrapped around her, and is looking upset. Kara is wearing her glasses and is looking down, crying. End ID. 

“Alex, have you heard from Y/N yet today?” Kara asked as she entered the DEO, a slight frown on her face still evident from the morning. 

Alex shook her head no. “Not since last night, why?” She asked, coming down the stairs and joining her sister in her walk. 

Kara shrugged it off. “She just didn’t send me her usual good morning text . . . She’s probably fine, right?” The blonde answered, now feeling silly as she voiced the worry that had been slowly eating at her. 

Alex’s warm chuckle calmed her almost instantly. “Yeah, it’s nothing. We’ll see her soon as she’s coming into the DEO anyway,” she reasoned, assuming their younger sister had just overslept. 

They reached the main room where J’onn and the other DEO agents sat at their desks and immediately the Danvers’ sisters got to work. 

However, when it was ten minutes past the time Y/N was supposed to arrive, Alex decided to give her a call, biting her lip. She discreetly pressed her phone to her ear, turning away so she wouldn’t cause her sister unnecessary worry. 

It ringed. 

And ringed. 

And ringed. 

“Hey! You’ve reached Y/N Danvers. Sorry I couldn’t answer! Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.” Alex cursed quietly when it rang so long it went to voicemail and huffed to clear her mind and steady herself.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Alex. I’m sure you just overslept or are rushing to work,” she said, pausing to chuckle when the image of her younger sister running around the city popped into her mind, “Just give me a call when you get this. Love you, bye!” 

Despite the small worry entering the pit of her stomach, Alex reminded herself that Y/N being late and missing a phone wasn’t too uncommon, and she resumed her work. 

"Alex?” Kara said, and Alex looked up from her computer to see her sister gesturing at the clock with a nod. The brunette looked over, and felt that pit sink lower when she saw that 20 minutes had passed. Getting no message from Y/N, Alex and Kara shared a look, coming to a silent decision. 

“We're gonna go by Y/N’s apartment and check on her,” Alex informed J’onn as she stood up from her chair and grabbed her coat. She couldn't keep herself from remembering that Y/N should be here right now, she didn't live far away. 

Kara nodded, following her older sister, and the two women left the DEO, neither of them discussing their worries in fear of distressing the other one. Great minds do think alike, though, and that’s why they both internally came to the conclusion that if nothing was wrong and they found Y/N sleeping late, they were gonna be pissed (however they hoped that was what they found instead of the scary alternatives brewing and stirring in their minds). 

When they reached Y/N’s apartment, Kara knocked on the door. They waited almost a minute and when the door didn't open and they didn’t hear anything, Alex fished the key Y/N had given to her out of her pocket and unlocked the door. 

Stepping inside, the women were prepared to search the house like they were on a mission, when a paper on the floor, having been slipped under the door, caught their attention. Sharing a look, Kara grabbed the paper and unfolded it. It read: 

“Hello, Supergirl, 

I won’t lie. I don’t know your ‘secret identity’. However, I was able to find out Y/S/N’s, so it’s only a matter of time before I find yours, too. Come to these coordinates: [pretend there’s random coordinates] by 12:00 alone and allow us to experiment and test on you. If you fail to do that, I won’t give Y/N the cure to the Kryptonite poison that’s in her system and I’ll reveal her identity to the world. 

-- CADMUS.” 

For a couple moments, Kara and Alex stood, glued to the spot. Thoughts and emotions washed over their bodies: concern for their sister, anger at CADMUS, and an utter helplessness since they didn’t know what to do. 

It was a little past 10:00 now and when the two got back to the DEO, they made a plan with J’onn. He’d disguise himself as Kara and would do as the letter said and they’d have DEO agents - including Alex and Kara - stationed around the building with cloaking devices, which would make them invisible to CADMUS and their tech. Winn would hack into CADMUS’ tech and after Y/N was given the cure, the DEO agents would act.

At 10:30, the DEO agents were stationed around the base, invisible, and J’onn had walked into the base itself, disguised as Kara. He noticed the Kryptonite around the room, there to weaken Kara, so he put on an act: pretending that it was hurting him. He barley refrained from rushing over to Y/N when he saw the woman who was like a daughter to him siting on a chair, weak and only half-conscious, sweat shining on her face with Lillian Luthor standing beside her. 

“Good, you came,” Lillian said with a sadistic smile. 

“Yes. Now give Y/S/N the cure,” J’onn said, putting on his best Supergirl face. 

The corners of Lillian’s mouth turned into a smirk and she walked over to another chair a few feet away, which had Kryptonite restraints. “Sit,” she said calmly, although the way she stood, her hands delicately placed on the chair, brought power to the lonely word. 

J’onn complied, frowning as he walked over to the chair and sat down, letting Lillian put the restraints on his wrists and ankles that she thought would weaken him. For extra effect, J’onn sucked in a breath and faked pain. 

Lillian smugly turned around and walked back to Y/N, who didn’t seem to realize what was going on. The older woman gestured to one of her minions and they promptly injected a serum into Y/N’s neck, making the youngest Danvers’ gasp just the slightest before her eyes fluttered close. 

“The antidote is taking its affect in her system,” Lillian informed J’onn before turning back to her minion. “Take the girl outside. She can find her way back.” 

The man nodded and picked Y/N up, slinging her over his shoulder and walked out. The second J’onn heard a smash and knew that his team had acted, he gave Lillian no time to be on alert before he ripped off the restraints and knocked all of the CADMUS agents out. 

. . .  . . .  . . . 

Alex and Kara had been standing outside, listening to Lillian and J’onn’s interaction through their earpieces. The women were both racked with worry over their little sister and when they saw the man carrying her, it took everything in them both to wait until he carelessly dropped her on the floor. When he did, Kara revealed herself and knocking him unconscious into a wall. Alex then revealed herself as well, hearing J’onn fighting, and ran to Y/N while the rest of the DEO agents went inside to erase CADMUS’ memory of Y/N’s identity and to make arrests.

“Y/N, Y/N! Come on, wake up,” Alex said, slightly panicked as she gently rolled Y/N from where she was laying on her side to be on her back. Kara, after making sure the guy was unconscious, sped over. 

Kara knitted her brown together and drew her lips into a line, silently gathering her sister into her arms. Alex glanced up at her, tears in her eyes, for she knew Kara was only silent when she was very worried. 

“I’ll meet you back at the DEO,” Kara said quietly, her tone almost emotionless, before lifting off and flying into the air. Alex swallowed and took a breath, getting to her feet.

. . .  . . .  . . .

As she flew through the air, Kara battled to keep distracting thoughts about the clouds and the breeze away, as she knew she had to focus on her unconscious sister. Y/N was the priority. Once she landed at the DEO, she immediately headed to the med bay, where doctors took over and Kara informed him that Y/N had supposedly been given the antidote. 

After almost ten minutes of Kara pacing just outside the door and Winn doing his best to comfort her, the doctors informed them that the antidote was indeed in Y/N’s system and it was fighting off the poison. They didn’t know when she would wake up but when she did, she would need to rest a lot as she’d be weak. They were also unsure if CADMUS had done anything else to her, so she’d need to stay at the DEO overnight if she didn’t wake up soon. 

The doctors allowed Kara to see her so the blonde sat by her sister’s side, holding her hand until Alex burst in, looking out-of-breath. 

“How is she?” Alex asked, sitting on Y/N’s other side and taking her free hand. 

Kara told her what the doctors said and they collectively let out a breath, relieved that she was going to be alright. They stayed with Y/N for another hour, silent except for the occasional comment, when Y/N started blinking her eyes open. 

The agent and the superhero both sat up, patiently waiting for Y/N to wake up and adjust herself.

“Alex? Kara?” Y/N croaked out, looking at her sisters in a haze of confusion. 

Both women smiled and let out happy tears, helping her to sit up before wrapping their arms around her. Y/N smiled, leaning her head against Kara’s neck. 

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Alex whispered. 

“It’ll never happen again,” Kara promised. 

Y/N nodded. She didn’t say anything in response, finding herself too tired after the day’s events. Kara and Alex stayed until she fell asleep and then they reluctantly left her under the watchful eye of Winn, since they needed to debrief with J’onn and prepare for when Y/N would come home. 

Permanent Taglist: @natasharomanoffismywife @hehehehannahthings @paulawand @blackbat2020 @sybil-moon-is-a-mess @cerberus-spectre @marrymemcgrath @celestialbarnes

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[nctsjiho]

Explode

warnings: there’s 2 swear words in there and it’s a bit angsty this one

❀ There’s some unexplained tension between the 6 youngest members of Dream and JiHo

A bunch of testosterone and very strong-willed men was a recipe for occasional conflicts. Getting into fights with your friends was never fun. It was even worse when that friend was someone you had to work with, live with and see everyday. It happened from time to time that the boys butted heads, but usually it was a very dumb and small problem which got resolved before the end of the day. (Often because other members got involved to tell them their problem was just dumb and nothing worth fighting over.)

This time however seemed like a very different situation. It wasn’t a small fight between the two youngest members about a dance move. It also wasn’t someone who was jealous of another member because they forgot about hangout plans to chill with someone else. No this time seemed a lot more serious. The older boys watched as the room filled with tension. JiHo had just walked in, not even saying as much as a hi or giving a smile. It wasn’t like her and before anyone had to ask anything they sensed the second source of the tension. The 6 youngest Dream members were all sitting together, blank to annoyed facial expressions and most uncharacteristically, not even one of them was talking.

The older boys were all exchanging questioning looks, but it was evident that no one knew what was going on. They even looked at Mark, hoping that if anyone, he’d be the one to know what was going on since he was a member of Dream after all, but alas. He seemed the most dumbfounded of them all.

Taeyong was about to speak up, but before he could one of their managers walked in, ready to brief them on their upcoming schedules.

Once the meeting was over everyone made their way over to the biggest practise room. JiHo had settled on the couch next to Kun and Yangyang, quickly putting her airpods in her ears, a clear sign she didn’t want to engage in any conversation. Since JiHo wasn’t going to talk the older boys thought that they could try prying some information out of the Dreamies. Not wanting to step on anyone’s toes though, they all agreed that Mark should talk to the boys.

He carefully approached the boys who had been talking amongst themselves and sat down in between Jisung and Jaemin. They made some small talk before Mark carefully brought up the subject. “So, did something perhaps happen? With- you know? With-...” Haechan scoffed, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes before standing up and turning to his backpack to find his bottle of water. Mark tried making eye contact with Jisung and Renjun who avoided it as if their lives depended on it. The other 3 boys just shrugged when Mark looked at them with Jeno starting to play with the strings of his hoodie.

Mark stood up defeated and went to report his lack of information to Taeyong. They decided to leave it at that for a little since neither party was going to talk and they still had a long day to go. Imagine what it would be like if their petty stare down evolved into a huge fight.

It had neared 3 pm. The members had been practising for about 2 and a half hours before they got their break. JiHo had seemed to become a lot less tense but Taeyong decided not to act on it yet. He had recruited Lucas, Johnny, Taeil and Hendery to come with him to the convenience store and grab snacks and drinks for everyone with the hopes that it would brighten up the mood and give everyone some more energy for the coming hours of practise.

What he didn’t expect was that on his arrival back at the practise room, a whole bomb would have exploded. Accusations were thrown around, and glares were being sent out. Yuta and Jaehyun were holding JiHo back while Kun, Ten, Mark and Yangyang stood by the Dreamies, Doyoung standing in the middle like some kind of referee. The other members standing off to the side, not wanting to intervene.

You’d might ask why 2 men had to hold a tiny girl back. Well Taeyong was confused as well, until he walked closer to see the deadly stares of the girl. He wondered how the younger boys hadn’t given up on yelling yet, one of those looks in Taeyong’s direction and he’d apologise straight away, even if it wasn’t his fault. JiHo was unarguably the scariest when angry, but the Dreamies were notorious for being stubborn and talkative, not backing down in the slightest.

“-if she would stop talking behind people’s backs!” Renjun had yelled. The boys who just walked in didn’t have a clue about what already had been said prior or what had ticked them off to start fighting right then and there, but their main goal now was to resolve the problem. “Oh what would you know?” JiHo scoffed, but Doyoung came to interject. “What did she say then?” “Why don’t you ask her!” Haechan argued causing Doyoung to groan. “I asked you didn’t I?” “I don’t even know what I did to get you guys so pissed of at me.” The girl was calm. Eerily calm and it send shivers down Jaehyun and Yuta’s spines who were standing next to her.

“Sure you don’t!” Haechan chuckled, not that he found it funny, he just couldn’t believe JiHo was feigning innocence right now. She rolled her eyes before turning around and walking over to the couch in the back of the room. She plopped down on it and pushed her head back against the back of the couch, her hands coming up to slowly massage her temples.

“Can someone explain-” “How dare you call Jisung a fake maknae and talk bad about him behind his back?” Jaemin had finally spoken up, his voice low. This comment shocked everyone. No way JiHo did something like that right? But before they could say anything Haechan fired another comment. “And say how Mark shouldn’t be in Dream anymore, because you’re just jealous that you’re not in Dream with us.” “Yeah! It’s not our fault you’re not getting any songs-” “What the fuck did you just say? I dare you to finish that sentence Renjun.” JiHo stood up from her seat, malice lacing her every single word.

“Wow wow wow- Guys I can’t imagine JiHo saying anything like that. It must be a misunderstanding-” Doyoung said before he once again got interrupted by the Dream members. “It’s true! We heard her say it!” Jisung said, his voice starting to crack as tears brimmed in his eyes. “JiHo?” Doyoung looked at her with hopeful eyes. “Please let this be a misunderstanding.” He thought. “Is it my fault that I didn’t get any songs to promote then?” JiHo asked, looking at Renjun, completely ignoring the question.

“Is that what’s important right now?! Jisung is crying for goodness sake! And it’s all-” Chenle started yelling but Mark silenced him. “Why would I argue about something that isn’t true?” The girl said in almost a whisper before turning towards Renjun again. “So? Is it my fault? Jaemin here gets to perform Work It with Jisung, Haechan and Jeno have 90s Love and Haechan sings From Home with you and Chenle. You guys also have Déjà Vu. Yes, maybe I’m not as great of a signer as you, or as great as a dancer as Jisung, or as great as a rapper as Mark. Maybe it’s because I’m a girl. Maybe it’s because I shouldn’t have been in NCT in the first place. But is it my fault?” Her voice was so steady and calm, causing everyone in the room to become quiet.

They all stood there for a minute, before a sob leaves Jisung’s lips. Everyone turns to look at him, but JiHo turns to grab her phone and bag planning to leave. “JiHo, wait-” “I never. ever! Said anything like that about Jisung. What you probably heard was me telling Johnny how I’m feel like the fake maknae of NCT 127. How I felt like I, NCT 127′s maknae, am just a silly excuse for an idol, and how I took Haechan’s place, while he’s 100 times a better fit for the role than I am. Oh! And that about Mark, I never said he shouldn’t come back to Dream. I was talking about how worried I was for him to join another unit because he already is in almost all of them plus SuperM. I was talking about the unit Lee Soo Man has been planning for 2021. Who would I be to tell him what to do and not to do? And yes maybe I’m jealous of you guys, but I’m not the kind of person to go behind someone’s back and talk shit. But if that’s what you think of me please go ahead.” JiHo said before putting her belongings in her bag. “Also Jisung? Thanks for trusting in Haechan so much, saying that you all ‘heard me say it’ when it was only Haechan there eavesdropping on my conversation with Johnny. I’m really happy that knowing you for all these years has build this much trust between us.” She scoffed sarcastically.

As JiHo walked out of the room she got stopped by Taeyong. “JiHo, we still have practise-” “What’s there for me to practise? I’m not in any songs anyway.” She pushed herself through the boys at the doorway before making her way to the dorm, supposedly.

With JiHo gone the boys had looked over to Johnny who sighed deeply. “I don’t wanna say it, but you guys really messed up. Everything she said was true. She was only talking about herself, she never mentioned Jisung, besides when she said she was proud of him.” The comment had sent all the Dream members over the edge, their actions finally sinking in and the severity of their accusations very clear now.

They had never meant to be so hostile towards the girl, but when they thought she had been talking badly behind their backs about one of their members, and definitely since they thought it was about Jisung, they couldn’t help but get furious. They had such a close bond and felt protective over each other. Jisung had taken the news of JiHo badmouthing him very poorly and that sparked protectiveness over the youngest from the other members. But now that they found out about what was actually said they all felt sick to their stomachs. How could they have said such awful words to her when she was already talking badly about herself? And out of all member Haechan felt the worst. How was he ever going to make things right again? What were the consequences for his actions? And how bad were they going to be?

---

Part 2

[robin-josephette-biden]

A Statement Through Horror: BDG and YouTube

In his video announcing his departure from Polygon Bryan David Gilbert [BDG] stated, “I want to make things that one day people will make a show like unraveled about.” [Paraphrasing here]. Since that announcement he has made some of the most interesting and engaging comedy videos on the platform. On Bryan’s channel, there is a section called “bdg’s scaries” that contains three videos. The first how to make jorts was released April 27, 2019 and will not be part of this analysis, as we are focused on the other two videos. These two videos are Earn $20K EVERY MONTH by being your own boss which was released on October 25, 2020 (two months before his final Unraveled video and departure from Polygon) and Teaching Jake about the Camcorder, Jan '97 which was posted March 3, 2021. If you have not seen these videos yet you should stop reading immediately and go watch them both (honestly everything on his channel is amazing, especially the surprisingly compelling and personal Dances Moving! series) before continuing to read this as I will be spoiling both of them. The position of YouTube celebrity has been the source of a good bit of commentary as short form online media has become more and more central in our culture. Bryan has created two videos that I feel do an excellent job of exploring the relationship between youtuber and audience. I should also point out that this is merely my interpretation of these videos and is in no way BDG’s intended message. I’ll start by going over the first video. Earn $20K EVERY MONTH by being your own boss opens with BDG outside an apartment building, standing in front of a black car. BDG points up at one of the windows and says, “Three years ago I was living in that apartment right there. Third floor, leaky windows, cockroaches, the worst.” I do not know if the real life BDG actually lived in that building, but the 3 years timeframe does line up neatly with his beginning to work at Polygon. BDG continues to bad mouth his old apartment and mentions how he has turned it all around stating, “But just last week I paid off my very first Subaru Impreza. And I own my own house in Nebraska.” This radical change in life-style he credits to, “. . . [working] from home, [making] my own hours, and [being] my own boss. And you can do it too.” I think that it is interesting that BDG’s career up to that point mirrors that of his character, going from newly graduated content creator making small videos in his apartment to one of the most popular creators on Polygon. And all that being accomplished through work that many (rightly or wrongly) would not see as fitting into the mold of the traditional 9 to 5. The idea of making millions working from home, at your own pace, and with no boss is intrinsically tied to the mystique of the YouTube celebrity. Moving into BDG’s office he explains that he makes $20k a month working on spreadsheets. A massive spreadsheet appears behind him that is dated, 01.12.88 (nothing of note happened on January 12, 1988 and the only thing that happened on December 1, 1988 is a large cyclone that struck Bangladesh, January 12, 1888 is the day of the Schoolhouse Blizzard which struck the midwestern US and killed 235 people (remember this for later)) and is filled, seemingly randomly, with garbled nonsense symbols. Many of the cells are the same as other cells and there are empty cells scattered haphazardly throughout the spreadsheet. BDG explains that he got this strategy from Dorian Smiles. In exchange for working on these spreadsheets BDG receives $10k - $20k a month (an amount that lines up pretty damn well with the amount he should be getting through his Patreon page currently, I don’t know if this was true when the video was made though) from Dorian. Wanting to know where the money is coming from BDG asks his bank and they explain that he is wiring the money to himself from another account he has. He grows confused as to the nature of this work and the disproportionately large amount of money it brings in, explicitly mentioning his confusion as to how the money is coming from someone with, “. . . my name and my voice.” and sets about to find and confront Dorian Smiles. BDG sets off for Center Nebraska, which is close to where Dorian lives (a small town in the northeast corner of Nebraska). He states that Dorian’s address hasn’t existed since 1888 (that’s a familiar year isn’t it?) when it was supposedly condemned during an enormous blizzard and is, “. . . just woods now.” The video then transitions to BDG walking through dark woods while his narration talking up the Dorian Smiles program continues becoming increasingly broken. He comes across a figure sitting in the woods that is convulsing strangely, when he calls out to it the figure turns and is him (heretofore named Dorian). Dorian slowly puts his hands over his nose and mouth while staring at BDG at which point the narration cuts out. BDG copies Dorian and when Dorian removes his hands in a flourish, BDG does the same to reveal that he no longer has a mouth. The video quickly cuts back to BDG in his office talking about the program, he asks the viewer, “Why don’t you join me?” and then sits back and smiles while that line repeats without him moving his mouth. The most pressing mystery is who Dorian Smiles is. I think the most likely answer (and one I know I am not the progenitor of) is that Dorian is a reference to The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde, the story of a young man that has a portrait that ages and takes on the ravages of the debauched life its subject lives while Dorian himself does not. BDG would therefore be the unwitting recipient of that blessing, reaping massive rewards while his double, Dorian, lives in poverty and solitude. I like this explanation for Dorian, but I find it to be far more mechanical than thematic. On a metatextual level you could read that Dorian represents the character of BDG. The person that is in all of BDG’s videos, and the one with whom so much of the audience forms a parasocial relationship. In this lens the parallels with BDG’s own life make more sense. By this point in BDG’s career it is not difficult to imagine him feeling stifled creatively at work (I feel comfortable saying this given how soon after this video came out that he departed Polygon). His character had grown too large, potentially becoming alien to him, no longer reflecting the art he wanted to make and so he made a video about a distorted version of himself stealing his voice. In this way the video becomes a statement on his artistic integrity and his desire to test new boundaries and go in different directions. In hindsight, with the knowledge of his departure and then success after leaving Polygon, the video becomes almost heartwarming (if it weren’t terrifying) in the same way that a before and after picture of someone improving themselves can be. We will return to the Dorian Smiles system, but now we must move to the second video, Teaching Jake about the Camcorder, Jan '97. I’ll save you the blow by blow breakdown and aim for a quick summary instead. This video is a simple stationary shot of an old CRT tv. A VHS tape is inserted and a video of a man teaching his, evidently young, son how to use a camcorder plays. It is relatively wholesome and corny in that way that all home movies are and when it ends the tape rewinds and the segment plays again, this time with a few deviations. Over replays the father becomes aware of what is happening and begins trying to reason with Jake through the camcorder begging him to stop watching the tape and move on. The father is menaced by a large shadowy figure that does not speak or move when confronted. Eventually the father resorts to simply taking the camera and recording his own screams of pain. On the final rewind the father simply says, “Attaboy.” before calmly walking out the room and into the dark hallway, a doorway opens at the other end, filled with orange light, and the father walks through and down stairs. The final shot of the video is of the television, showing the hallway, as orange light begins to flicker in the background of the left side of the TV. The sound of the father descending the stairs transitions from the TV to diegetic and a shadow appears briefly in the light. On one level the video is clearly a statement about loss and about trauma. Jake is losing himself by watching these videos on repeat, trying in vain to relive a happier time. In that desperate desire to regain what was lost he is distorting it, making it into something it isn’t, hurting it. At the beginning the father says, “Never ever press the rewind button, otherwise you might record over a precious memory. We always keep the recording going forward . . .“ I think there is an additional, and more personal for BDG, reading however. The father is the modern character of BDG, and we, the audience, are Jake. He is pleading with us to leave the past behind and move on. This was only his 3rd video that he posted after leaving Polygon. It is a plea from him to leave the old character behind and stop trying to make one into the other. To stop obsessively comparing the new videos to the old. To let the future be the future and let the past be the past. He is telling us that his new work will not be like the old, that he has progressed past that and that now his viewers need to as well. The detachment and confusion of Earn $20K EVERY MONTH by being your own boss has transformed into a desire to move forward. But he needed to ensure that his audience was ready to come with him, and so he made a video about loss and the dangers of sinking too far into it. I know that there are some of you that feel I am reading too much of what I assume to be BDG’s thoughts and emotions into these interpretations, and I am the first to admit that I might be. In no way am I trying to say these are the only interpretations of these videos or even that they are correct. I think there is so much more of an artist that they put into their work than they realise. I do not know the mind of BDG, only he does, but these videos made me feel that I had a glimpse into the feelings of a man whose work I admire. These videos are either longer or a drastically different tone to the material he has put on his own channel and as such they stood out to me. They felt different, and they seemed to ask for a different level of scrutiny. On some level maybe BDGs videos can not be divorced from the story of BDG as a content creator, the same as any modern internet semi-celebrity, or indeed any artist. I guess there was also a part of me that wanted to answer the call to action I heard when BDG left Polygon, to unravel his work. I hope in some small way I’ve been able to do that.

[httpnxtt]

Wallpaper - Reid x Reader

A/N: Hello Lovelies! I attempted some pure fluff this time to show my love to my bby, @spencer-reid-in-a-pool​ ! I wanted to shower her with love and this was the only way I could think how, so I hope you enjoy! Shoutout to @imagining-in-the-margins​ for the adorable prompt! You’re amazing and ily! 

Also shout out to my amazing beta buddies, @sunlight-moonrise​ , @clean-bands-dirty-stories​ , and @definitelynotkatesblog​ !

Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: FLUFFY FLUFF

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 4.2k

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the world of darkness that surrounds our lives, it’s important to find the light in the world. Luckily for me, our paperwork days meant being sat across from my best friend, Spencer Reid. The man whose smile lit the entire room, who could drop everything in an instant for someone he loves; who makes my days brighter at the simplest, “Hi.” The curly-haired genius spends his days surrounded by the worst humans in existence, using his brain to help the world before helping himself. With his IQ of 187, his mind works a million miles a minute, but sometimes he still needs help. That’s where my job comes in. 

I joined the BAU a year ago, and was instantly drawn to the resident genius. He was timid when I first met him, as if scared the world would break him with everything it decided to throw at the sweet man. Slowly, I captured the heart of our resident genius, who was now my best friend. Over the course of the years, he became my favorite person. On cases, I would make sure he took time to drink water and rest when possible, bringing him snacks when his brain was wrapped in his geological profile. I made it my mission to teach the genius to love himself as much as he loves others. 

Paperwork days were when I really got to see his bright smile and soft laughter. It became a running joke between us. Whenever Spencer would get up to grab us coffee from the kitchen, I would steal his phone to change the wallpaper to something silly. Every time he would check his phone for updates, he would see a new silly picture and grace me with a shining smile and chuckle. Even for these split moments in time, I knew I had distracted him from the morbid things littering our desks. His smile lit up the bullpen, leaving butterflies fluttering around in my stomach, my own smile gracing my lips. He would always shake his head before changing it back, already knowing he would find a new wallpaper later that day. Luckily for me, today was a long, dragging paperday which means I had plenty of time to meet my Spencer-Smile quota for the day. 

First thing this morning, I got my hands on his cell. Pre-coffee brain, the only thing I could think of was the most ridiculous picture of our own Derek Morgan. The image was one Penelope graced me with, a photo he attached when shamelessly flirting with her during our downtime. As quickly as I could, I set the lockscreen and gently placed the device back on his desk, almost in the right spot although I’m sure Spencer would notice it had been moved. I sit back in my chair, slowly starting to spin as I see Spencer make his way back to our desks, two mugs in hand as his glasses begin to slide down the bridge of his nose. I shoot up to wrap my hands around the steaming mug, the warmth like a warm hug. I pull the mug up to my face, smelling the delicious scent of coffee created perfectly to my specifications. Sometimes boy genius’ memory has its perks. Settling back at my desk, I sort through the mound of files for the day in anticipation. 

Looking up from my own cases, I look across to Spencer who has his face buried in a file, his finger trailing down the pages taking my mind into places it shouldn’t go. After an hour he still hasn’t seen his wallpaper, plastering a frown on my face. I pull out my own device, immediately texting a gif of Stitch saying hi to “Pretty Boy”, hearing his phone ding almost immediately. Looking across to Spencer, he almost spits out his coffee seeing the ever flirtatious Derek Morgan gracing his screen. The reaction sent me into a whirlwind of laughter, my head thrown back, almost cackling at the poor man. 

As I calm down, wiping the tears from under my eyes, I see Spencer looking at me with his signature smile, making my heart flutter. 

“That was a good one, Y/N. You really got me this time.” He chuckles, looking at this screen again before looking back at me. “Might have been your best one yet,” he says as he works to change it back. The poor technophobe had to learn because of me how to change his wallpaper since he realized I wouldn’t stop anytime soon. He’s still a tad slow but watching him try to work through it makes my heart happy as I return to my own files. 

As I try to work through my own files, an IM from the tech queen herself pings my computer. 

P.Garcia: “Changed Boy Wonder’s wallpaper again? When are you going to tell him?! Your puppy eyes give you away, darling. You can’t lie to me.”

Y/N: “Darling Penelope, I would never lie to you. Alas, you continue shipping something that will never sail..” I reply to her, hoping she gets the gist.

Although Spencer lives in my thoughts rent free, that’s where he’ll stay. As much as I wanted him in my arms instead, it simply wasn’t going to happen. I close my messages before trying to actually get some work done. I’d rather not stay late yet again due to my tendency to be a bit scatterbrained. 

***

Coffee break number two rolls around and I already have the perfect picture planned. Reid scurries into the kitchen desperate for more coffee and I rush to his desk. Pulling out his phone, I send an image to it before saving it. It is one of my all time favorites. A movie night Spencer and I shared. I convinced him to let me pamper him under the reasoning of some well deserved self-care. Surprisingly, the man went along with my antics, although fighting me on this gem. The image is a sneaky one that Reid doesn’t even know exists. During our self-care night, I tried to take pictures of him looking as cute as ever, but he kept blocking me. Luckily, Spencer fell asleep before his mask came off leaving the perfect opportunity to snap the evidence. There is Spencer in all his glory, curled up on my couch in the light blue robe I saved for him that was covered in little clouds, a purple face-mask clinging to his cheeks, trying to avoid his eyebrows.To top it all off, he wore a bright pink headband to push his hair back decorated with bunny ears. The picture shows the soft side of our boy, a side I wished he would show more. 

Throwing his phone back on his pile of files, I sit back at my desk, nonchalantly sipping my now cold coffee. Seeing Reid shuffle back to his desk, I wait for him to pick up his phone with my mug resting against my mouth. Spencer readjusts his frames as he settles in his chair, looking me in the eyes before looking at his phone. Instead of his normal chuckle, a pout graces his plush lips. Although his lips are normally a favorite of mine to stare at, the pout twists my gut. 

“I thought you didn’t get any pictures of me that night,” he mumbles, giving me puppy eyes that could give mine a run for their money. 

Despite my pride in the picture, his tone makes me feel just a little guilty. “I’m sorry, Spence, I thought you were so cute when you were napping. I didn’t want to make you upset.” I pout, the butterflies disintegrating as the moments pass. Rummaging through my drawer, I find my sack of trail mix and toss it to the dark-eyed man. “Here, take my trail mix, I know it’s your favorite,” I offer, a small smile painted on my face. Spencer’s eyes land on me, lips turning up once more into the smile that never fails to take my breath away. 

“I appreciate it, but I can’t take it. I know it’s basically the only thing you eat on your lunch break.” His call out causes heat to rise into my face. 

I stay insistent though. “I want you to have it. I don’t like making you sad.” I shoot back, giving him my infamous puppy eyes. Even Aaron Hotchner falls for them, there is no way the doctor could resist. 

“Okay,” he starts, automatically having me rush across to his desk to give him the snack. “On one condition,” He finishes, making my face fall once more. Spencer never lets people just give him a present, he always does more for others. “Since you’re giving me your snack, you come with me to get a proper lunch since you need food and I could use the hour away from these files.” He smiles at me, already munching on the trail mix so I have no choice but to agree. 

“Deal. BUT, I want pancakes if we’re going,” I reason with him, plopping back in my chair. 

“IHOP it is.” He chuckles, the sound resonating in my brain as we both hurry through our respective files. 

***

At coffee break number three, Reid stands from his desk, scrunching his nose to fix his glasses as he reaches across to snatch my mug from my desk. Hiding my face in the file until he walks away, I turn to see him shaking his head, knowing I’m about to change his wallpaper yet again. 

Once I see him turn the corner, I stretch over to grab his phone he conveniently left square in the middle of his desk, giving the man yet another excuse to talk to her. Flipping through the camera roll, I hear a chuckle from the desk a few feet away. Looking over, I find the one and only, Derek Morgan shaking his head at me. 

“What’s so funny, Thunder? Sad the attention isn’t on you anymore?” I tease him while trying to find the perfect picture. 

“I just find the pining that goes on between two supposedly brilliant people entertaining.” He chuckles as my jaw drops, turning to him. “Come on, Princess. You don’t think we don’t all know you and Pretty Boy fancy each other, do you? It’s obvious to everyone except the boy himself.”

I shake my head. “He’d never see me that way, Morgan. This is just for shits and giggles.” I breathe out, settling on an image of our feet in front of the TV screen, mismatched socks adorning our feet while “Beauty and the Beast” plays in the background. He sports a neon pink sock along with a navy blue sock covered in planets, while my feet claimed one sock covered in different moon phases, the other covered in little alien creatures. Placing his phone on his desk, I settle back at my own, shooting Morgan a closing, “You’re just seeing things, Morgan.” before burying myself back in the file at hand. 

Moments later, my mug is sat directly in front of me before Reid sits at his own desk. Automatically picking up his phone to check, my tummy flutters at the smile he releases while staring at the screen for a moment before looking at me. Making eye contact, I notice a slight pink tint to his cheeks, before he looks back at the image.

“This might be my favorite one yet,” he murmurs, adjusting his glasses without looking away from the screen. I feel my cheeks heat up, getting warmer by the second, but I cannot tear my eyes from the man who holds my heart without even knowing it. 

***

“Hey Y/N. Ready for lunch?” Spencer asks, tearing my eyes from the IMs Garcia floods me with daily. 

“Ready when you are!” I reply, jumping at the opportunity to get away from the files scattered on my desk. You’d think serial killers would take a day off sometimes. Shuffling to my feet, I grab my keys from my desk and grab Spencer’s hand, dragging him to the elevator with me.

“Seems like it’s more ready when Y/N is.” He chuckles, straightening his glasses once he comes to a stop in front of the silver doors. As we step in, Garcia frantically waves at us, before sprinting into the bullpen as the doors close.

“Well, you’re in luck, Pretty Boy. You get me as your personal chauffeur to lunch.” I beam at him as he goes bug-eyed.

“Lucky? In your death trap, Y/N?” He chuckles, putting a flabbergasted look on my face.

“Hey!” I yell at him, playfully elbowing him in the ribs. “My car has lasted 15 long years I’ll have you know, and she runs as smooth as ever,” I shoot back, immediately leaving him behind when the doors open. “Maybe I’ll just go get pancakes without you then.” It’s playful when I lock all the car doors except for mine, and he knows it.

That doesn’t stop him from playing along. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry Y/N! Will you ever forgive my poor soul?” he jokes, holding both his hands over his heart as he begs for forgiveness. Unlocking the doors, I giggle at his antics before heading to the restaurant. 

***

“Y’all ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?” The server returns to the table with our coffees, along with an apple juice for my inner child. 

“Yes ma’am. Can I get the plain pancakes with eggs, as well as a side of bacon and sausage?” Spencer asks while gathering both our menus for her. “Of course, sugar. What about you darlin’?” she turns to me as Spencer dumps almost the entire sugar container into his mug. 

“I’ll just have the chocolate chip pancake, please!” I smile at her as I steal what’s left of the sugar from the man across from me. 

“No problem, that’ll be right out for y’all.” She smiles at us before heading off to the kitchen. 

“Did you know chocolate chips were invented by Ruth Wakefield because she decided to chop up a chocolate bar and add it to her cookie batter?” Spencer looks to me as he starts with factoids. “And white chocolate isn’t even truly chocolate! White chocolate is made with a blend of sugar, cocoa butter, milk products, vanilla, and a fatty substance called lecithin. Not that it’s a surprise, considering it doesn’t even taste like chocolate. Probably because it doesn't contain chocolate solids.” he rambles as I stare at him with stars in my eyes. “However, dark chocolate is loaded with organic compounds that are biologically active and function as antioxidants. These include polyphenols, flavanols and catechins, among others. Dark chocolate also has a list of different benefits proven from consumption.” He finishes, taking a sip of his coffee as I continue staring at the man.

“What ever would I do without you, Boy Wonder?” I say, seeing Spencer’s face heat up at my remark as he hides behind his mug. 

“M-me?” He asks, as if he couldn’t believe it. He shakes his head in disbelief before I could respond, showering me with many more factoids while waiting for our food rather than accept my compliment.

“Alright, here’s your food darlin’. Let me know if there’s anything else I could do for y’all.” The server tells us, shooting us a smile before moving onto another table. Spencer takes his time cutting up his food, dousing his plate in more syrup than pancake. Meanwhile, I dig into my pancakes as if it’s the last thing I will ever eat. 

Halfway through my own pancakes, I look up to see Spencer looking directly at me with a look I couldn’t quite distinguish. 

“Why are you staring at me?” I ask him, almost seeming to pull him from a trance before responding. 

“Oh. Uh, you have chocolate on your face.” He tells me, seeing my face flush at the information. I grab my napkin and quickly wipe my lips making sure not to miss a spot. Little did I know, there wasn’t a single speck on my face. 

“Is it gone?” I ask him, hoping not to embarrass myself further. 

“Oh, yeah it’s gone.” he smiles, returning his focus onto his own plate. 

Going back to eating, I keep sneaking pieces of the bacon off Spencer’s plate, causing him to smile each time. 

“Hey Spence. I have a question for you.” I tell him, shoving a piece of bacon in my mouth. 

“And what would that be, Y/N?” He asks me, sipping his coffee. 

“Why is it every time we come here you order sausage and bacon, if you never touch the bacon?” I ask him, looking at him with a puzzled expression. 

“Would you like my honest answer?” He pushes back, as if I would want anything else from him. I nod with a mouth full of pancakes, earning a smile while he responds. “Because I know you’ll always steal the bacon from my plate but will never actually order it yourself.” He smiles at me, returning to his own food leaving me speechless and even more red.

Finishing up our plates, Spencer takes initiative to organize all of the empty dishes so our server has less work. Giggling at his antics, I pull out my phone to check the time, seeing we still have plenty of time before our break is over. 

“Are we getting milkshakes?” he asks me, sipping the last of his coffee before adding the mug to his carefully organized dish-pile. 

“Of course we’re getting milkshakes, what kind of question is that, Spencer?” I look at him, almost appalled he would assume we weren’t. “We each have a sweet tooth I’ve ever seen matched by anyone else, why would you ever assume I would say no to a milkshake?”

“I wasn’t sure if we had the time, I didn’t want to make us late.” He explains, shaking his head yet again at my child-like antics. 

When the server returns, we both order the largest mint-chip shakes they had before returning to our usual banter in waiting. Not long after, the server returned with a single shake. 

“I’m so sorry sugar, apparently we only had enough ingredients for one mint-chip. Can I get y’all something else?” The server asks us, feeling bad she couldn’t fulfill our order. 

“You take the mint-chip, Spence. I’ll order something else.” I push the shake toward him as he blocks it from getting to him. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m not worried about it.” He replies, fighting me over a milkshake. 

“Spence-” I begin to argue before he abruptly cuts me off. 

“Would you like to share the shake with me, Y/N?” he asks me, looking me directly in the eye. I froze for a moment, taken aback at the offer from the germaphobe in front of me.

“If that’s okay with you, Spence. Then, sure!” I respond, checking if it was okay with him. 

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t okay, Y/N.” He shoots back, chuckling at me before asking the server for two straws. The man in front of me steals more and more of my heart with every passing moment.

***

Going up the elevator to the BAU was a constant battle between us. Spencer secretly gave the server his card so I wouldn’t even have a chance to fight him on paying. 

“You gave me your trail mix, Y/N! That’s the whole reason I asked you to get lunch in the first place! Why would I let you pay when I extended the invitation?” He shoots at me as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Shooting him a look of discontent, we both sit back at our desks, feeling 2 pairs of eyes staring at us from a few desks over. 

“Don’t look now, but I think Tweedledee and Tweedledum are staring at us.” I lean over to whisper. Reid tries his best to look up at them, nonchalant as possible. Despite the boy being a genius, he is anything but sly, looking just in time to see Derek and Penelope snap their heads to whatever was on his desk. Giving them a smile, Reid picks up his own file to return to his own tasks for the day. However, the task only lasted so long before the genius needed yet another cup of coffee for the day. Heading off to the kitchen, I quickly grab the phone he left on his desk on his break, trying to plan the perfect image. 

Before I could get far, I was abruptly stopped in my tracks. Staring at the homescreen on his phone, I couldn’t understand how I hadn’t noticed this before. Had this been in front of my face the entire time? Staring at the screen, I see myself and Spencer from our weekly movie nights. I had all of our silly photos, yet I had never seen this one. I see myself, puffed out cheeks with my eyes crossed, pulling at my ears to make myself look like a monkey, but my eyes can only look at Spencer. He hadn’t made his silly face. Instead, the man before me is staring directly at me, the sweetest smile across his lips. His little nose scrunch in full effect, his beautiful hazel eyes creased in the corner from his smile. That smile that could melt my heart in two seconds flat. Staring at the screen for what felt like centuries, I refocus on my surroundings when I hear his soft voice behind me. 

“Wow, Y/N. Getting a little slow with the changes now, are we?” He laughs, before noticing the look on my face. Stopping dead in his tracks, he looks at me confused more than ever. Not being able to form words, I raise my hand to show him the wallpaper, the perfect image of us. His eyes go wide, his mug almost slipping through his fingers.

“Y/N, I-” He starts. 

“Spence… Where did this picture come from?” I ask him, looking back at the screen before me. “I’ve never seen this one before,” I whisper, before Spencer puts his hands over mine, the mug now living on his desk. 

“I, uh. I took this one before making a face, I just couldn’t resist.” He whispers, pulling my chin up gently between his two fingers, looking me dead in the eye. “Y/N…” He starts, glancing down before gazing back at me with the same look I saw at the restaurant. “I couldn’t resist because I wanted to keep a physical copy of one of the happiest moments of my life. And I care about you... More than care about you! You make my days so much brighter when you’re around. You’re the only person to ever know me, the real me. And I..” he trails off, working his confidence up to finish his thought. “I love you, Y/N. And that picture was saved, locked away on my phone so I could be reminded how much you mean to me, and how much you care on some of my darkest days. I love you, Y/N. It’s the only thing I have locked away because it’s the moment I knew I was in love with you.” He finishes, breathing out as he waits for me to react. Stunned into silence, I stand there looking at the man, seeing his face turn to panic. “It’s okay if you do-” He starts, stunned when he is cut off by his plush lips being covered by my own. He slides his hand onto my cheek, holding my face as he returns the affection. 

Pulling away, I look him dead in the eye, I pull out of his embrace to my own desk, grabbing my phone. Returning to his side, I unlock my phone to show him my own hidden homescreen, a grin spreading on my cheeks from the flood of emotion. From our self-care night, it is quite possibly my favorite image of the man. He was in his robe, bunny headband and mask, but he was trying to block the images from being taken. His hand was raised in an attempt, but I could hear the laughter radiate from the image, the smile making my heart swoon at every glance. Looking between me and the image, Spencer’s jaw drops at my own revelation, before pulling me into a bone-crushing hug. Burying my face in his neck, I murmur my own “I love you.” Before a whistle from the peanut gallery beside us breaks it up. 

Shooting a look to Penelope, I see she has the biggest smile plastered on her own face, her rosy cheeks probably stinging from the sheer joy painted on. Morgan sitting beside her lounges back in his own chair, shooting a wink our way. 

Returning to our respective seats, I can’t help but steal glances at the man beside me. When he catches me, I can’t help but giggle.

“Hey Spence. How long was I oblivious to your homescreen?” I ask him, curious as to how much of a dumbass I truly was. Seeing his cheeks flush pink, he turns to me with guilt in his eyes, 

“Y/N.. as much as I would love to take the credit, I don’t know where the wallpaper came from. I can barely change it back after you mess with it.” He confesses, a shy smile on his face. Laughing at his technophobe ways, it finally registers that he didn’t actually set the wallpaper. 

“Wait, then who changed it?” I ask him, before hearing stilettos and boots scurrying down the hall, laughter trailing behind them. Looking back at my boy, those eyes stole all my words away, and that smile… the smile I had seen so many times before but never knew the intention, the smile I fell in love with, I knew he would forever be my always.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @spencer-reid-in-a-pool​  @redbullchick​  @samanddeanstolethetardis221b​   @reidetic​ @gretaamyk​ @sunlight-moonrise​ @prettyricky187​ @rileysann​ @itslatinamagia​ @timey-wimey-lovi​  @pinkdiamond1016​

[itsclydebitches]

YYH Recaps: Episode 4 “Requirements for Lovers”

Hello, everyone! It's been quite a while, huh? Ah, the endless cycle of wanting to write and yet, astoundingly, not writing. I know it well.

Good ol' writer's block has skedaddled for a time though, so let's make good use of that and dive into Episode Four: "Requirements for Lovers." 

Ohhh, YYH getting spicy with its titles 😏

Actually wait, I shouldn't be making dumb jokes just yet. First I want to acknowledge a slight change to future recaps: YYH, RWBY, and anything else I might try my hand at. Namely, a lack of pictures moving forward. A few weeks ago — months? I honestly can't keep track — tumblr implemented a new limitation where no post can have more than ten images in it. It's a move that, while I'm sure has its justifications, makes sharing analyses of visually-based media all the more difficult. I'll be doing my best moving forward to describe scenes as needed, as well as combining connected images together to stretch out my limit, but I'm not going to pretend that it'll be the same as getting the visual play-by-play we’re used to. 

Tumblr certainly is a website, huh?  

Anyway, we open on Yusuke once again lamenting the difficulty of hatching a spirit beast that doesn't immediately devour him from the head down. On the one hand this is an admittedly easy way to reset the story over the course of this arc — the storytelling equivalent of waking your character up each morning — yet I cannot deny that if I were undergoing a resurrection test, it would consume my every thought too. Can't really blame Yusuke for endlessly bringing the conflict up when the conflict is this deadly.

Well, deadly for a ghost, anyway.

Specifically, he's worried about how embarrassing it would be to get eaten by something that came out of an egg this tiny. I'm torn between reminding a fictional character that things grow — a pissed off chicken could kick my ass and it started out in an egg too — and just shaking my head over the absurdity of worrying about embarrassment when, you know, you would cease to exist. It's not even a matter of, "What if I die and then I'm embarrassed about it in the afterlife :( " Yusuke is already IN the afterlife. He's got nowhere to go but oblivion!

Luckily, Botan takes a more practical approach to these worries, pointing out that he'll be just fine provided he does some good deeds. Yusuke starts a rant about how do-gooders are only ever out for themselves.

Yusuke, you dumb-dumb, you're a do-gooder now. What was all that help for Kuwabara, hmm? As said, these early episodes exist in a semi-reset loop, where Yusuke needs to stew in his main character flaws for a while before any real growth starts to stick. Those flaws being, primarily, "I'm a pessimist" and "also I hate myself."

Case in point, Botan accuses him of always seeing the glass as half empty. Which, while true enough (outside of his confidence in fighting, anyway), by now we've got a pretty good sense of where Yusuke developed this attitude. He affirms this by talking about how Koenma's got him by the balls, "just another idiot abusing his power!" With an alcoholic mother and those teachers from last episode, it's no wonder Yusuke thinks this way. Mr. Takenaka's interest and Keiko's care aren't enough to combat the rest of Yusuke's experience, not when Takenaka is an outlier and Keiko is Yusuke's peer. Her desire to keep him on the right track reads only as an inevitability at best (the downside of having a perfect childhood friend), or a legitimate annoyance at worst. Or, as we'll continue to see in this episode, a way for them to flirt.

Is it any wonder Yusuke would sneer at Koenma's offer then, expecting the worst? The fact that Yusuke is still undergoing the challenge at all, no matter what he says, speaks volumes to me.

However, Botan is less than comfortable with his criticisms. She panics a bit at Yusuke insulting the (junior) ruler of the underworld so blithely. That, and the fact that he's carelessly tossing his egg around.

(Yes we’re using precious picture space for memes are you SURPRISED?) 

Anyway, Botan isn't just concerned for the sake of concern. She cautions Yusuke against speaking too freely because there may be investigators checking in on his progress. No sooner does he ask what those investigators look like than one appears.

Thunder! Lighting! An energy so intense that Yusuke is briefly blinded! It is, as he says, quite the entrance. What kind of being could possibly be at the heart of such an astounding show?

Why, this teeny-tiny cutie, of course.

Remember, few appearances in YYH coincide with the character's true self. Would you ever assume this is the all-powerful investigator who holds Yusuke's future in her hands? Of course not. That's the point.

The investigator introduces herself as Sayaka and immediately demonstrates that she has no more patience for Yusuke's attitude than Botan does. "These damn kids," he mutters and my brain briefly blue screens because Yusuke. You're fourteen.

Plus, Sayaka and Botan clearly have some sort of eternal youth situation going on, so there's that too.

Sayaka is, in a word, fantastic. She pulls no punches with Yusuke, teleporting away from him with what can only be described as a shit-eating smile, all while refusing to tell him what exactly she's investigating. “I’m sorry, but that’s a secret!” However, Keiko is clearly at the forefront of her interest. She refers to her as Yusuke's "girlfriend."

Botan is more than happy to point Keiko out — because of course they're still following her around! — and pulls a Et tu, Brute? on Yususke, leading Sayaka right to her. Like most of the Underworld, Sayaka is rather shocked that the pretty, popular, scholarly girl is supposedly into the delinquent. It's the power of childhood friendship, you fools! Specifically, Sayaka references the "positive markings" that Keiko has accumulated, but the audience already knows by now that such markings are suspect at best. Yusuke himself is proof of that. So if his terrible marks don't preclude him from being a young kid's savior, should we really view Keiko's as proof of superiority?

I mean, Keiko is fantastic, but that's not really the point here.

Starting her own investigation into Yusuke's life, Sayaka begins with one hell of a bombshell: "There's no point in doing [the resurrection] if the people closest to you don't care." WOW. Not only is that a harsh assessment, it's one I don't think I can personally get behind. The offer to restore Yusuke to life is built on the acknowledgment that their system is flawed (even if there's no work to change or dismantle that system): they thought he was worthless, his sacrificial death seems to have proven them wrong, and now they want further evidence, in the form of this trial, that Yusuke is a good person at heart. The whole point of this challenge is to give him a second chance, with testimonies like Mr. Takenaka's emphasizing that Yusuke has always been capable of more, so long as he applies himself. This, as we'll see throughout the series, applies to relationships too. The Yusuke with one friend he play-fights with, a distant mother, and a school worth of kids who are terrified of his very name is not the future Yusuke they expect him to become, so... why base his resurrection on what he's already (not) accomplished? Granted, the show is very unclear about what, if anything, Sayaka will do if she decides that Yusuke doesn't have a life worth going back to (even if I have my own theory discussed at the end), but the fact that this is suddenly a factor at all seems grossly unfair, not entirely unlike Kuwabara's rigged promise. We as the audience know that people love Yusuke. Yusuke himself is beginning to acknowledge that. But if this fourteen year old delinquent truly had no one that wanted him back from the dead... isn't that all the more reason to allow a resurrection and give him the chance to build a life where he would be missed? 

This stupid shonen got me thinking too much istg. 

Yusuke, ever the self-deprecating pessimist, bypasses all of the above thoughts and jumps straight to, "It's clear if [Keiko] had any sense she'd want me gone." I'd find that attitude incredibly sad if I wasn't distracted by how cute Botan and Sayaka are, sitting on the oar together. The spirit girls who fly together, thrive together! 

Botan starts teasing Yusuke about having a crush, which just feeds his temper and Sayaka's confusion. Deciding that she needs to gather more info, they follow along for an average day of school because these earlier episodes are, apparently, ghost-stalk Keiko hours. 

We see her reading aloud in class from Heart of Darkness (not the easiest book for some middle schoolers), scoring a point during volleyball practice, refusing to let one girl cheat off her homework, but happily helping another who runs up with a question. So she's pretty, athletic, and academically successful, the trifecta for any good love interest. Sayaka is impressed not just with her "nearly perfect" scores, but also the maturity that Keiko demonstrates, such as maintaining her morals about cheating while remaining compassionate. 

Actually, I really love the contrast this provides for us, the viewer. Meaning, Keiko is shown to be at her least mature when in Yusuke's presence. Not that her responses aren't justified, but watching her dramatically snatch gum from his mouth, slap him across the face, or pull crazed expressions as she yells at him is a far cry from this calm, poised, soft-spoken Keiko. It's a way to visually show us that she's comfortable in his presence, despite the suspect humor attached. Not that the Keiko we see at school is faking or anything — she is legitimately that kind and articulate — but we see that being with Yusuke allows her to relax in a way she doesn't with others. School!Keiko is, as Sayaka says, pretty much perfect, 24/7. Yusuke's Keiko is a little rougher around the edges, in a way that implies a multifaceted personality shining through. 

However, the only conclusion our trio draws is that, given Keiko's accomplishments, any attraction must be one-sided.

Poor Yusuke lol. 

In a plot move that is so ridiculously contrived, just as Yusuke is grappling with the accusation that Keiko couldn't possibly like him back, a "handsome boy" arrives to ask Keiko out. He says that he couldn't bear it when she stopped reading Heart of Darkness because he's fallen in love with her voice. "Will you be my girlfriend?" 

Please excuse me while I lose my shit over how ridiculous this is. I legitimately straight up cackled when I watched this scene. 

Luckily for Mr. Absurd, Keiko takes him seriously — and lets him down easy. She says she can't be his girlfriend and when he presses the "Why?", asking if she already likes someone else, Keiko confirms that she does. This is done through a shot of her feet. Not a POV shot given the angle, but close enough that it feels like we're stepping into Keiko's shoes (haha), shyly staring down at the floor in embarrassment and regret. 

Rejection complete? The guy screams. 

I mean he screams. 

I mean this nobody we're never gonna see again unhinges his jaw and lets out an unholy shriek the likes of which makes me shriek in utter GLEE. 

It's insane. It's wonderful. I'm going to use one of my coveted image spots to show you his face: 

Look at that and tell me this show isn't amazing. 

Okay, I'm focusing again. As Keiko runs off Botan and Sayaka start dragging Yusuke, teasing him about how Keiko chose him over that "charming handsome boy." 

...Please scroll up and look at that image again. I find YYH's definition of "charming" and "handsome" to be hilariously wrong. 

Yusuke, as per usual, throws himself into damage control, claiming that Keiko didn't say who she liked, so really it could be anyone. They're not buying it. “'I like Keiko' is written all over your face!” Botan crows. Meanwhile, Sayaka is scribbling in her little investigator's journal that feelings on both side are severely misunderstood. "Suggest serious counseling." 

Fantastic idea, Sayaka. I'd personally suggest counseling for the whole dying/best friend getting resurrected thing... but relationship woes work too! 

We cut to later when school is out and Keiko has gone over to Yusuke's. To say that Atsuko has done a poor job of keeping the house clean lately would be a serious understatement. 

Keiko points out the old food and broken glass specifically, cluing us in that this isn't just a messy environment, but a dangerous one as well. This is proven when she accidentally knocks a stack of books over and a used bowl falls onto Yusuke's face. What's interesting is that Keiko says that things are "back to normal" now, though I'm not sure if that's in reference to the state of the house, or just the note Atsuko left behind, asking Keiko to take care of Yusuke while she's out. I'm inclined towards thinking it's just the note, partly because of Keiko's shock when she first arrives, because the house wasn't shown to be in this state prior to Yusuke's death (first image above), and because the note is accompanied by a great voiceover that makes Atsuko sound quite sloshed when she left. That's what's normal, the drinking and carefree attitude, not the state of her home. If we buy that reading, it allows for another fantastic look into Atsuko's mental state. If she's already an alcoholic, the trauma of her son's death and the following revelation that he's coming back might make her struggle in other ways. Like finding cleaning to be an impossible task. 

She's depressed. It doesn't excuse the state she's left Yusuke in and, as previously acknowledged, YYH is definitely not a show interested in this nuance, but I still find it fun to take what little we've gotten and run with it. 

However, Keiko is firmly on team "WTF Atsuko." She hurries to make sure Yusuke wasn't hurt by the falling bowl, bemoans him being "covered in garbage," and says that leaving him in this state should be considered a felony. Knowing it's far beyond her power to fix Atsuko's failings, Keiko swears to come here after school every day until Yusuke regains his body. It's as she's cleaning him of the dust that's gathered that Keiko becomes entranced with Yusuke’s features. Particularly his lips. The soft lighting returns, their theme song swells, and Keiko gets thiiiis close to kissing Yusuke for the first time. 

Which is a little weird, right? I mean, we know why Yusuke is freaking out. Beyond the embarrassment of a middle schooler receiving his first kiss while two ghost girls eagerly watch on, he's made a hobby of denouncing his interest in Keiko to anyone who will listen. But for the average viewer — for Keiko herself — don't we care the he's, you know, dead? Or if not technically dead, very unconscious? Don't get me wrong, I fully understand the appeal of this situation in a generalized, cultural sense (with the side disclaimer that I'm reading a Japanese product through an American lens). Sleeping Beauty exists for a reason and there's definitely an element of that here: a gender-reversed setup where Keiko’s kills may break the "curse" of Yusuke's untimely death. Even his in-between state of being mirrors the "death like sleep" of the fairy tale. But when you strip away those Disney-esque thoughts, we're left with a girl about to kiss an unresponsive body, not as a common gesture of care (the parent who kisses their child while they sleep), but as a first time, romantic milestone. 

It's a little weird lol. 

But embrace the romance! As well as its inevitable interruption. Just as Keiko is about to land a peck, the neighborhood watch committee announces a heat and fire warning, startling Keiko out of her thoughts about Yusuke's "beautiful face." (There's another gender reversal for ya.) She gasps at her almost-action, conveniently remembers that her mom wanted her to do some shopping, and hightails it out of there before embarrassment can really kill them both. 

So she runs off for food... in a sweater? The outfit is cute and all, but I wonder what the animators were thinking, putting Keiko in a puffy pullover during an episode all about a heat wave. 

It's about at this point that the plot goes from cute romance to absolutely buck wild. The fires the neighborhood watch committee mentioned are not, in fact, due to the overwhelming heat, but an arsonist that's going around tossing molotov cocktails through open windows. Why is he doing such a thing? I don't know. Arsonists be doing arson, I guess. The important bit is that Yusuke's place is his next target, considering that Atsuko forgot to lock the windows when she went out. Within seconds all that garbage is set ablaze, quite obviously putting Yusuke's resurrection chances at an all time low. 

"Wake up, stupid!" he shouts at his unconscious body. Mood, Yusuke. That's me every morning. 

So this is a full scale emergency now and everyone is scrambling trying to think of something to do. Yusuke comes up with the idea to possess himself like he did Kuwabara — nice attempt at a loophole there — but since it would technically count as his resurrection, no dice. Botan decides to go get Kuwabara himself, even though he's too far away to do anything. It's still worth a shot. Sayaka, meanwhile, watches all this unfold with a somewhat clinical detachment. She's not quite indifferent and she's definitely not cruel... she’s just not as emotionally invested in this as the other two. Which not only re-emphasizes her purpose here, as an observer judging Yusuke, but also highlights the bond Botan is forming with him. As mentioned before in regards to her hanging out with Yusuke rather than ferrying souls, Botan is well past someone assisting Yusuke simply because it's a part of her job. He's her friend. 

We get some shots of the growing fire which includes a hazy texture to the animation I quite like and then we cut to Keiko several blocks away, shopping bag in hand. Word of the new fire spreads, with one bystander mentioning that it's the twelfth today. 

"This is eerie.” 

“Yeah, I can’t help feeling we’re under attack.”

That's because you are! Someone stop that man! 

Sadly, I don't think the arsonist is mentioned again, let alone captured. We'll just have to relegate that to my incredibly niche fic wishlist. 

Keiko also overhears that the latest fire is on fourth avenue, which of course is where Yusuke lives. Recognizing that he might be in trouble, she takes off at a run. 

Meanwhile, Botan finds Kuwabara practicing his kicks against a Yusuke dummy. Amazing resemblance, right? 

Watching for the purpose of recapping, I'm picking up on a lot of details in the animation I quite enjoy. I don't think anyone would claim that YYH, at this point in time, has the most impressive or flashy animation (the fight scenes later are another matter entirely), but there's a clear love for the product that shines through. The scared expression on Kuwabara's dummy. His unexpectedly dainty kick, complete with pointed toes. Botan's more translucent coloring to emphasize her supernatural status compared to Kuwabara. There are a lot of nice touches despite the overall simplicity. 

Plus, you can't forget the lovely irony of Kuwabara fighting a defenseless "Yusuke" while the real guy actually lies defenseless amidst a fire. We already know that despite his tough talk, Kuwabara would be horrified to learn that his friend rival had died (again) in such a manner. 

Capitalizing on that transparency, Botan runs a hand through Kuwabara's back to catch his attention. He gets his "tickle feeling" and instinctively looks around towards Yusuke's house, seeing the smoke. "Something tells me I should go that way." Gotta love a guy who drops everything to chase a vague, supernaturally induced hunch. 

As Kuwabara leaves we cut back to Keiko arriving at the house, staring in horror at the blaze. We get an audio flashback to her talk with Yusuke where she promised to take care of his body until he got back. So she tries to run in, only for a couple of the onlookers to snag her, quite correctly keeping her from undergoing a suicide mission. We learn later that Keiko absolutely would have died without Yusuke's sacrifice, so her "You cowards!" is born more of emotion than justified accusations. It's not cowardly to look at the raging inferno in a small apartment and realize that recklessly running in will only result in two dead teens, not one. 

I mean, the flames are already right there, licking the door. Even if Keiko somehow managed to avoid burns, the smoke alone would do her in. Still, Keiko tries to mitigate the damage by dumping a bucket of water over her head. As a kid I remember thinking this was the smartest thing ever. Utterly inspired. Keep that in the back of your mind, kid Clyde, for future reference. As an adult... I have no idea whether this would actually help or not lol. Any firefighters doubling as YYH fans? 

Recklessness and iffy precautions aside, I can't express how much I appreciate the story giving Keiko things to do. Yusuke recognizes that she's the only one with the maturity and open-mindedness to believe in his resurrection. She's the one picking up Atsuko's slack regarding his day-to-day needs. She never hesitates for a moment, heroically throwing herself into this blaze for Yusuke's benefit. Yeah, a lot of that still falls into the emotional/domestic sphere — what we expect of the love interest in a 90s anime — but too often action stories don't have a clue what to do with their non-action characters, not even when it comes to just supporting the fighters. They're simply... there. Keiko, however, isn't window dressing. Whether it's helping Botan survive an upcoming, supernatural plague, or cheering the team on at the Dark Tournament, Keiko is an important part of the story, despite lacking the fighting prowess of the rest of the cast. 

Just as important, this episode establishes a core equality between her and Yusuke. We just watched Keiko reject a (presumably) accomplished guy for him, telling the audience that these surface differences — academics, power levels, popularity, looks — don't matter to them. Yusuke is not Keiko's lesser just because he doesn't have the same scores in Sayaka's book and Keiko won't become Yusuke's lesser just because she doesn't have spiritual power like he does. The only important thing here is that they love each other and they're both willing to sacrifice everything for the other. In the span of about ten minutes, Keiko nearly gives up her life for Yusuke and, in turn, Yusuke gives up his resurrection for her. The level of care they show towards one another is balanced, despite those differences. 

They’re a good ship, y'all. Even if this recapping's got me noticing Yusuke/Kuwabara potential lol. 

To get back to the plot, a drenched Keiko charges into the fire, yelling Yusuke's name for the drama of it because we all know he can't respond. Despite the audience (hopefully) recognizing Keiko and Yusuke's equality, that memo hasn't reached Yusuke yet. "You're a lot more important to this world than I am!" he yells, hammering home that despite everything — knowing he instinctively saved a child, watching his loved ones grieve for him, helping Kuwabara just because he can — Yusuke still, deep down, believes that he doesn't deserve to come back; that he doesn't measure up to those around him. The self-sacrificial nature this insecurity produces shocks Sayaka. She points out that if Keiko doesn't save his body, he's not coming back. "What's the point of being alive if Keiko has to get killed for it?" 

Keiko means more to Yusuke than the rest of his living existence. Jot that down in your notebook, Sayaka! 

Kuwabara arrives and runs into one of his friends who informs him that Keiko just went inside. “Yusuke’s girl? The one we saved from those thugs?”

BOY does that tell us a lot about their rivalry! I mean yeah, we've already established several times over that Kuwabara — just like Yusuke himself — is not the cruel street thug he'd like to present himself as. If these characters actually wanted to hurt each other outside of a martial arts challenge, don't you think Kuwabara would capitalize on the "Yusuke's girl" bit? Everyone seems to know that they have feelings for each other, but Kuwabara never once wields that as ammunition against Yusuke. There are no taunts about him not being good enough. Or rather, I should clarify there are no serious taunts — Kuwabara is well known for his teasing. There's also no attempt to steal Keiko out from under him, the common treatment of the love interest as a "prize" that many stories fall into. Indeed, later this episode YYH will deconstruct this a bit. Yusuke sees Kuwabara grab Keiko's hand and yells that he better not be getting "fresh" with her. But it's purely Yusuke's worries shining through. The audience gets a crystal clear picture of the situation and knows, categorically, that Kuwabara has only the most innocent of intentions in holding Keiko's hand. 

(Well, running from the police isn't innocent, but...) 

I keep getting sidetracked. Plot! Keiko makes it to Yusuke's room and finds that he is already on fire. She then proceeds to try and put it out by patting it with her hands. I take back what I said about Keiko's smarts in this scene. Now we know where that supposed recklessness comes from though. Apparently they're both immune to fire! Nothing to worry about here, folks. 

JK she's actually in danger, despite the animation choices. By this point everyone, including Keiko, realizes that there's no way out: the fire has blocked the door. Sayaka then reveals that there is one way to save her. If Yusuke throws his egg into the fire, the energy of the spirit beast will release and guide her to safety. The catch? Hatch the egg early and it won't complete its intended function of guiding him back to his body. This beast is gonna guide one person and that is it. 

Cue Yusuke's near immediate decision to sacrifice his life for Keiko's. Granted, it's not precisely one life for another. Yusuke's resurrection was always contingent upon the beast not devouring him whole — something Koenma claims would have happened at the end of the episode — meaning that it's not technically a fair trade. Yusuke might have sacrificed Keiko's life for his own... only to fail to get that life back anyway. (There's a tragedy for ya.) To say nothing of how Yusuke is currently dead and has been for at least a couple of days, whereas Keiko very much is not. There's some sort of philosophical discussion there about potential being pit against current reality. 

BUT that's not the point! The emotional point is that he sacrificed his life for hers — the potential of his resurrection, the potential of that life he might have led — all technicalities aside. And I, for one, think that's very neat of him. 

A blue light shines as the egg's energy is released, providing a lovely contrast to the fire surrounding them. A path forms to the door and Keiko, recognizing Yusuke's presence, follows it. "We'll make it, Yusuke," Keiko says, which is one hell of a sucker-punch now that we know she's just carrying a corpse. Unbeknownst to Keiko, Yusuke is very much not making it. That's the only reason why she is. 

Kuwabara appears to help them the rest of the way which is also a pretty awesome thing considering that, from everyone else's perspective, the fire is still raging and blocking the door. Despite his spiritual awareness, Kuwabara gives no indication that he noticed this strange light, or Yusuke's hand in the rescue. Which basically means he lunged into a bunch of deadly fire for Keiko and doesn't question how in the world he isn't burned. 

Keiko's hands are fine, Kuwabara's whole body is fine... fire immunity must run in the friend group! 

Yusuke has another rare moment of vulnerability — "They're both okay" — and I cackle happily at the "both" because see. You love Kuwabara too, Yusuke! All this bluster about hating him and finding him annoying. The second he rushed into that fire you were crawling up the walls. 

Except then that happiness gives way to something that sounds a little more shocked. Devastated. "Well, I sure am... relieved..." Kudos to Cook's voice acting. You can hear the exact moment Yusuke realizes what he's done. Not that he regrets it, but the consequences are finally sinking in. He's relieved that they're safe, yes, but now he's never going to be able to rejoin them. 

As Yusuke has an(other) existential crisis, Kuwabara peels back the blanket Keiko had wrapped Yusuke in, revealing his face. “What are you doing with Yusuke’s body?! Are you some type of sick grave robber?” he shouts. God I love when a story actually keeps track of who knows what. Kuwabara, for all his recent involvement in the plot, doesn't actually know what's going on. From his perspective Yusuke died, he made a scene at the wake, he saved "his girl" from a bunch of thugs, lost a huge chunk of time only to wake up with her randomly hugging him (then slapping him), participated in a bet with his awful teacher and had a couple weird, Yusuke related dreams while studying, and has felt the presence of ghosts perhaps a little more frequently than usual. Now he's trying to help save Keiko from a fire only for her to reveal she risked her own life for Yusuke's body. Of course he's freaking out! What's she doing with that? 

What's utterly fantastic though is that Kuwabara takes all of five seconds to process this and then enters immediate Ride or Die mode for Keiko. She's been hoarding Yusuke's body for undetermined reasons? Well, who is he to judge? The important thing here is that people are arrested for keeping bodies, so they've gotta skedaddle before the firefighters show up. 

Hence, hand-holding and avoiding arrest. 

As Yusuke starts threatening Kuwabara not to get "fresh" with her, Botan sadly reminds him that he no longer has a say in who Keiko does or does not fall in love with. The switch in tone is jarring. Whereas before Botan would have teased him mercilessly for the crush, now she knows that nothing can come of that — and it would be cruel not to remind Yusuke of that too. 

"Oh no. I didn't think..." Yusuke whispers, further establishing that he knew the risks of using his egg, but hadn't allowed them to sink in yet. Now they have. 

He gives a fake little laugh with, "Just when it was getting good" and I cry at the development in the span of just four episodes. Despite what I said at the beginning about the show resetting each week, there has been a lot of change thus far. Yusuke wants to live now! He wants to be there for Keiko! He looks down on his tiny family and screams at the unfairness of it all! They're talking about how they can't wait for him to come back and now that's never gonna happen!!

It hurts, friends. It hurts a whole lot. 

During this conversation between Keiko, Atsuko, and Kuwabara, we see that a couple of hours have passed (it's nighttime now, the fire is out) and Atsuko is apologizing for putting them all in danger like that. And by that I mean yes, she does technically apologize with an "I'm sorry" and everything, but it's also a one sentence apology pit against... well, near death for the three people standing (and sitting) before her. Atsuko seems just as concerned by Keiko losing her hair as she does Keiko nearly burning to death and she kneels by Yusuke's wheelchair, baby-talking to him about how he forgives her, right? I love Atsuko, she's great, but objectively speaking she is not a good mother. Not right now, anyway. 

Oh yeah, and just to reiterate that: Keiko's hands are fine after patting down Yusuke's on-fire body, but her hair, which I'm pretty sure never catches, has to be cut short. Ah, anime logic. Funny thing is, YYH isn't the only story to take the love interest and give her a cool, short cut thanks to a traumatic event. Anyone read Ranma 1/2? 

During this conversation we also learn that, sometime between the fire and now, Keiko filled Kuwabara in on everything that's happening with Yusuke. Makes sense. He kneels beside the wheelchair, joining the others in telling Yusuke that they'll wait patiently for his return. Yusuke, above them, continues yelling about how they're waiting on a dead man. 

“It can’t be helped. He made this decision on his own." 

Except it can, in fact, be helped!

Just as all hope is truly lost, Koenma appears and announces that Yusuke will be returned to life. Why? Because sacrificing his egg for Keiko is a better indicator of his worth than the egg itself could have been. Despite feeding on his negative outlook and heading towards biting Yusuke's head off — something the animation backs up by showing us teeth during the fire

— Yusuke's act demonstrates a tendency towards being a "decent human being" that is "so rare." Wow. That's depressing. Still, yay that Yusuke has those qualities! And this, to my mind, helps explain Sayaka's presence. Koenma recognized that judging Yusuke couldn't be left to the egg alone and indeed, Sayaka took note of his worth before he ever threw the egg into the fire. First it was questioning why someone as amazing as Keiko would go for him, then it was solidified through the shock of Yusuke announcing that coming back to life was meaningless if she wasn't in it. Even if Keiko had somehow, miraculously escaped the fire before Yusuke's sacrifice, I bet Sayaka's report would have tipped him in resurrection's favor anyway. 

Everyone is, of course, overjoyed and my heart swells at the intense gratitude Yusuke displays. My favorite part though is when Koenma cryptically says that “Your added experience with death could make you very useful" (a nod towards future events that goes right over Yusuke's head) and his response to this is a yelled, "YOU THINK I'M USEFUL?" This poor kid. The God of everything ever is chucking out revelations left and right, about resurrections and spirit beasts, but the only thing that really penetrates is the realization that someone thinks he's useful. Talk about relatable. 

You know, I've been thinking about why this moment works so well. I mean, there are a lot of other stories where undermining the consequences our hero faces — either with humor, or by erasing them completely — can feel like the audience was cheated. I think YYH dodged that with a couple of crucial factors. First, Yusuke's consequence isn't something new that he's now avoided, it's just a permanent extension of something he was already dealing with. We did get to watch him inhabit the space between life and death, grappling with whether he'd ever be able to return. The story didn't deny us that growth, it just confirmed something we all instinctively knew: this tale won't end here with Yusuke permanently going to some afterlife. Second, the Deus ex Machina fix doesn't happen too soon. Yeah, it's only a couple of minutes in a single episode, but we (and Yusuke) still get to sit with that outcome for a while, soaking it in before its removal. Finally, there's no doubt that Yusuke earned this reprieve. Koenma's timing might be sudden and (if you're not genre savvy) unexpected, but looking back at the series as a whole thus far, we're able to agree absolutely that Yusuke deserves this. Far from feeling like we were cheated, this solution invites just as much celebration as we're seeing on screen, for the simple reason that we can buy into Koenma's reasoning. We know now that Yusuke is a good person. We saw him selflessly sacrifice his future for Keiko. We agree that he deserves a second chance. 

Thus, the episode ends with Yusuke flying up to fill the screen in his joy, a far better, final shot than Harry Potter and The Prison of Azkaban managed 😰

And that's it for Episode 4, folks! See you later for Episode 5 💕

[fandom-necromancer]

Brothers take care of each others

This was prompted by an amazing anon! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 | Character: Elijah Kamski

The ceiling above him was still clad in total darkness, the sky outside the window turning light blue only at the horizon and stars sparkling peacefully. It was an hour that demanded everyone to stay in bed and get a couple hours’ worth of sleep. Yet Gavin laid in his bed and stared up at his ceiling unable to fall asleep ever since the call of ‘Hah, it worked!’ had woken him up ten minutes to four o’clock. Since then he tried to ignore the distant sounds of tools clattering to the floor. One thing was for sure: Sleeping over these noises was far easier than falling asleep to them. he cursed, looking at his alarm that read 4:30 completely indifferent to what that time meant for Gavin. He sighed deeply. There was no use staying under the sheets any longer, he was awake now. Might as well stand up.

Not bothering with any clothes other than the boxer shorts and the loose old T-shirt he had slept with, he opened the door and yawned heartily on his way to the bathroom. ‘Oh, you are awake!’ Gavin’s lids fell in resignation, as he showed his brother the middle finger and continued walking towards the bathroom without even looking at him. Ten minutes later, he had splashed some water in his face and had readied himself for another day. Sort of. He had zero interest in trimming his stubble and trying to hide the dark rings under his eyes was of no use either. At least he felt ready to deal with his brother now.

‘Morning’, he hummed as he entered the living room, stifling yet another yawn. ‘Good morning indeed.’ ‘Says you’, Gavin commented. ‘I didn’t phcking asked to be woken up at four.’ ‘Sorry. Forgot you’re not a morning person.’ ‘Nah, I’m normal, other than you’, he huffed. ‘Okay, I need a coffee now.’ ‘Perfect! Then you can already try out my improvements!’ Gavin stopped in the middle of the kitchen. ‘Improvements?’

‘Yes! I hooked up your coffee machine with the internet! It is now able to import recipes for any kind of coffee you might like and start brewing it – if you have given it the right ingredients of course.’ Gavin looked at Elijah with a face that expressed to equal measures pain and frustration. ‘And what about a regular damn coffee, like I always make it?’ ‘I called that program a “phcking” coffee’, Elijah mocked him, tapping at the display hastily attached to the machine. Gavin watched how his favourite mug filled with his life saving drink and sighed. ‘Oh, the wonders of technology…’ ‘Oh, then you will love what I did to your microwave!’

Gavin groaned, sipping on his coffee instead of commenting. It had only been three days so far and already Elijah had “improved” half of the technology he had in the house. He would have told him to stop, but as long as Elijah was busy tinkering with his stuff, he wouldn’t become bored. And if Gavin remembered one thing from his childhood, then he knew that was about the worst state one could meet his brother in. Even with Elijah no longer being part of Cyberlife, he was still an influential and rather public person. His latest talk about the autonomy of androids had had quiet the impact, especially in the anti-android community, as they had looked up to him as the creator of these “supposedly alive” machines. It shouldn’t have surprised Eli as much as it had that afterwards, people would come to him with their hate. But since someone had broken into his heavily secured house and had killed one of the Chloes without leaving as much as a trace, his home was an active crime-scene and it was either a hotel room or Gavin’s apartment for the man.

Elijah, curious as ever, had of course taken the latter, if not to spy on police investigation, then to spend a few weeks with his brother he hadn’t seen in ages. Not that Gavin really could complain - it was fun having him around. But he was also a usually very private person and Elijah’s constant energy had quickly started getting on his nerves.

‘And? When will you drive to work today?’, Elijah asked. ‘Still time for breakfast?’ Gavin sighed. ‘Yeah, sure. Want some toast? Don’t think I have much-‘ ‘I want to come with you.’ That made even sleep deprived Gavin suddenly attentive. ‘What?’ ‘To your workplace’, Eli explained. ‘I could find out more about the status of the investigation of my home. Also, I could finally see for myself who that certain android is you put an eye on!’ ‘I don’t- Elijah, you can’t just stay at the station. You are a civilian! I will keep you updated.’ ‘I’m also one of the richest men in the world. I doubt anyone would want to stop me.’ ‘I- Elijah, you still can’t-‘ ‘Come on!’, the man just talked over him. ‘It will be fun! I’ll drive us.’ Unable to stop his brother storming out of the flat with the keys, Gavin sighed, downed the rest of his coffee and hastily got dressed. That would be the worst day of his work life for sure.

-

‘So this is where you work. Interesting.’ ‘You’ve been here before’, Gavin grumbled, not really sure if he was more tired or more embarrassed at the moment. ‘Promise me you’ll leave me alone for at least the first hour, okay? I seriously have to get some stuff done.’ ‘Oh, of course!’ But despite his words, Elijah followed him to his desk. Gavin decided to ignore him in favour of starting up his terminal, but Nines had never been the one to hide what he was thinking: ‘Mr. Kamski? What are you doing here?’ ‘Oh, you must be Nines! I’m just accompanying my brother to work. Wanted to take a look at the place he keeps complaining about.’ ‘You can’t be here.’ ‘Well, but I am, am I not?’ ‘That… That really isn’t a valid argument.’ ‘Listen, Nines. How about instead of talking about something you can’t change anyways, you show me around a bit?’ Nines looked at Gavin for help, but it was his partner’s silent pleading him to “yes, please, get him away from me” that let him cave in. ‘Okay, but I can’t show you everything.’

Gavin watched them walk off and praised the blissful silence. He concentrated on the screen in front of him, knowing he had to finish all the important work now before Eli would come back and annoy him further. He loved his brother. But some distance was clearly needed after all these years. He actually managed to answer his mails and find himself back into his case, reviewing evidence and the first lab results that had come in regarding blood analysis and genetic information about the murderer. Then Nines and Elijah came back. Gavin saw him passing Fowler’s glass cube and his heart sunk. But then the door opened.

‘What the hell is Kamski doing here?’, the Captain shouted in the room, effectively silencing any conversations. ‘I wanted to take a look around’, Elijah simply answered. Fowler looked at him as if he had just lost his mind. ‘This is a police station! Not some kind of tourist attraction! You can’t be here.’ Every other person would have long apologised and run for their life with Fowler this angry, but Elijah stood his ground and smiled. ‘And you can’t make my brother work his ass off like a Lieutenant and still pay him Detective money, especially after his recent achievements, yet here we both are.’ In over eighteen years of working in this precinct, Gavin had never seen Fowler speechless. The man stared at Elijah, who smiled at him in all confidence, while most of the officers in the precinct seemed ready to duck behind their tables.

‘Leave’, was all the Captain pressed out. ‘Now.’ ‘Alright, don’t want any trouble.’ Elijah grinned, winked at Nines and made his way over to the door. ‘Gonna pick you up later, bro!’ Gavin didn’t give him any answer as he knit his brows and rubbed his forehead. Too little sleep, too much early morning conversation, too little coffee and now the whole precinct’s attention. Great. He just wanted to get his work done, get home and sleep. And exactly that he was going to do.

Until his break began and Nines approached him. With a sigh of regret, Gavin turned around and waited. ‘Is it true?’ ‘Is what true, tin-can? I had a really shitty day so far and I still can’t read minds.’ Nines shifted his weight on his other leg and continued: ‘Your brother… When I led him through the building, he told me you had a crush on me.’ Thinking about everything that could have happened today, Gavin certainly hadn’t expected that.

‘This asshole! I will phcking kill him, I swear!’ ‘So… It’s not true?’ ‘Hell, of course it’s true!’ Gavin froze. Why had he said that? ‘Oh.’ Gavin looked up at the android, that was smiling to himself, cheeks tinged blue. ‘That’s… nice to hear.’ ‘Is it?’ ‘I mean, I like you a lot, Gavin. To learn it’s mutual is… very nice.’ Gavin sighed deeply, holding his head. ‘I will phcking kill him…’ ‘Are you not happy about this?’ ‘Phck, Nines, I am. I really am. But I’m tired, I have an annoying as phck brother at home that just won’t shut up and I really wanted to ask you out any other way than this.’

‘I understand’, the android nodded. ‘But it’s nice to have it out now, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah. Yeah it is. Listen, I… Let’s forget this happened for just this day, okay? I will leave early today, speak to my brother about all of this and if I’m not charged with murder tomorrow morning, how about we do this properly? Tomorrow is your free day, right?’

Nines nodded and smirked. ‘Call me if you need to hide the body.’

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Twenty-Three) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: SMUT!! Cursing. Dom/sub relationship. Sir kink. Name calling. Brat taming. Bondage (tied back with a neck tie). Fingering. Choking. (Slight breath play?). Talk of kidnapping and murder-- everything Criminal Minds.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 16297

Timeline: Season 3 Episode 19. Two months after part twenty-two.

Hotch was standing at the window in his office, his hands buried in his pockets. His face was flat with a natural frown, his eyes scanning the bullpen, not looking for anything specific. When I noticed that his gaze was lingering on me from time to time a little too long, I leaned back in my chair, bit the back of my pen, and stared back with a smirk. I thought that the challenge would earn me a smile or at least a beckoning finger to lure me to his office, but he didn’t budge. He continued to watch the BAU move and work around him while he was lost in thought.

Something was wrong. The fact that he didn’t even pretend to not see me by going to sit down at his desk to distract himself told me that he really wasn’t paying attention and that his mind was elsewhere. It could have been related to whatever just happened on the phone call he was on only a few minutes ago. Or maybe it had to do with the way I kind of blue balled him that morning. He had woken up a little handsy, and I tried to play along before we realized that we were running late, and I made the call to wait until after work. Whatever was going on, it had him in a twist.

Finally, after a few minutes of me watching him, he finally gave in and exited his office. He walked down into the bullpen, waiting a moment to make his presence known while he just listened to the shenanigans the team had going on. As usual, Morgan was giving Reid a rough time, which was earning a laugh from the entire office. Garcia had brought in a photo she found of Emily in high school, which then turned into finding old pictures of Reid. Of course, Reid was a huge dork, and it was the perfect ammunition for Morgan to poke fun at him.

When Hotch cleared his throat, though, everyone stopped and turned. Just as I had noticed something was wrong, so too did the rest of the team. So when Morgan asked what was wrong, Hotch shuffled on the balls of his feet awkwardly and answered, “Brian Matloff woke up.”

Reid and Morgan exchanged a glance.

“What are you talking about, Hotch?” Morgan asked.

“I’m about to go to the hospital, but I got the call a few minutes ago.”

“It’s been four years.”

“I know.”

“Anyone care to explain to the class?” Emily spoke up, injecting herself into the conversation because the rest of us were in dire need of context.

“Brian Matloff, the Blue Ridge Strangler,” Reid clarified for us. “Hotch, Morgan, and I worked his case about four years back.”

“We nearly had him, too, but the son of a bitch leapt off a building,” Morgan hissed through his teeth.

It was clearly still a sore topic for Hotch and Morgan, though Reid seemed mostly unbothered. But that was what had Hotch all upset and broody in his office. Morgan didn’t like letting criminals get away, and if they died, he felt like that was worse than letting them go. As for Hotch, it sounded like the case was something that he had a lot of problems with after the fact. Maybe he was scrutinized for how the case ended, or maybe he was also upset that Matloff got out of it without serving his time. Either way, neither of them seemed to be over it, even though it had been four years.

“He killed three victims in the Blue Ridge Parkway,” Hotch gave more explanation since Morgan was letting his anger cloud his thoughts and conversational skills.

“Well, allegedly,” Reid said. “He was never convicted because after he jumped off that building, he went into a coma.”

“Yeah, well, he’s awake now,” Hotch scoffed, crossing his arms.  “And he’s finally going to be tried. They want the three of us to testify. I’m headed down to the hospital now to talk with the prosecutor, Cece Hillenbrand, and we’ll discuss where we’ll go from here.”

“You want backup?” Morgan asked.

Hotch shook his head. “I’ll let you guys know everything once I’m done.” He buried his hands in his pockets as he returned to his office to grab his things then head out.

We all looked at each other blankly. The information Hotch just dropped on us hadn’t yet settled, and confusion was still hanging in the air. I could tell that Morgan was pissed, and Reid was simple mind-boggled. Emily and I still didn’t have all the pieces, which left our confusion in a separate category from the rest of them. We weren’t around when this Blue Ridge Strangler case was ongoing, and I hadn’t even heard of it before. Hotch probably forgot about it altogether until he got that call. It didn’t surprise me that it hadn’t come up before, but the shock of it still hit me with the same force that it clearly hit Hotch, Morgan, and Reid.

When Hotch left his office with his briefcase, we all watched him. Morgan looked anxious, like he wanted to go with Hotch, that the offer he made for backup was less of an offer and more of a “let’s go” statement that Hotch turned down. Then, when he was gone, I expected the office to go back to work, but no one moved. We didn’t even turn back to our paperwork. It was quiet. Telephones rang, keyboards clacked, Anderson was running around and asking for lunch orders. Yet no one moved or said anything. It was such an odd thing to think about. Usually, when we took down Unsubs, one of two things would happen: we would take them in and they’d serve their time, or for one reason or another, they’d die. We never, ever had an instance before like this where an Unsub would wake up years afterwards. What were we supposed to do? How were we supposed to respond?

“Four years…” Morgan mumbled, throwing his pen on his desk. “Four years that asshole is out of it, and then he just… wakes up.”

“It’s a miracle he even woke up,” Reid said, still dumbfounded. I had never seen him so baffled in my life. Reid always had something to say, but not this time. Finally.

Truth be told, though, it didn’t feel like a miracle. Matloff waking up when things were finally getting better after Garcia got shot seemed like a big “fuck you” from the universe. At some point we deserved a break, right? I mean, Hotch, of all people, deserved a break. He had been working tirelessly for years, and it seemed like since our brief suspensions, he was working even harder. I just wanted him to stop. I wanted him to slow down, to look at life, to look at our family, and appreciate what we had. Matloff waking up was just going to prolong that attempt… It was exhausting.

About an hour later, we were all still sitting around silently. Reid managed to get back to his work, but he was slow, which was odd. Emily was trying to fit all the pieces together of what was happening and what was about to happen, meanwhile Morgan and I were still just… there. When my phone started ringing, the whole office jumped. Even Anderson jumped in his own skin. Hotch was calling me already. Hopefully, it was good news that I could share with the office to ease everyone’s conscience.

“Greenaway,” I answered.

“We’ve got a problem,” Hotch said in a breathless panic. “Matloff had amnesia.” My eyes widened and I spun around in my chair to look at Morgan. He glanced up at me, catching my worry, and in return grew confused. “Dave’s coming down to help us rebuild the case, but our key witness died of an overdose two years ago, and the prosecution still wants me to testify, but not Morgan or Reid, and I—”

“Hotch,” I caught his attention after he started rambling. “It’s going to be okay. What do you need?”

“Approach it like it’s any case? Go through everything. Victimology, M.O., find the evidence, build the profile, do everything you can to help us put this guy away.”

I nodded, though he couldn’t see me. “I’ll get the team on it right away.”

“Thank you. I love you.”

I looked around the bullpen to see that everyone was watching me, waiting eagerly for answers. I couldn’t say it back while they were all watching. As much as I wanted to, Hotch and I had our rules for a reason, and even something as simple as “I love you” just wasn’t appropriate in front of the team. At least not yet. Considering how comfortable the two of us were getting around each other at the office, it almost felt like saying “I love you” while around our co-workers wasn’t a big deal. But that was a conversation for another time, I supposed. So all I said back to Hotch was, “I’ll see you when you get back.” And then, without saying anything else, I had to hang up on him. One of these days I was going to say it back to him while around our friends, and I wasn’t going to be afraid to do it. Hopefully that time was soon.

“What was that about?” Morgan asked.

“We need to start building a case against Matloff,” I answered, standing from my seat. Everyone got up from their desks and followed me to the roundtable. “Matloff supposedly has amnesia. He doesn’t remember the murders.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Morgan scoffed.

I shook my head. “JJ, do you think that you and Garcia can get the case files for us?”

“Sure,” she accepted, leaving through the back door to head to Garcia’s office.

“Hotch wants us to build the case up from the ground,” I told the remaining members of the team in the room. Morgan, Reid, and Emily all sighed. It was going to be a very long day. “Hotch and Rossi should be calling back with more information once they have it.”

JJ and Garcia returned with copies of the Matloff case files for each of us. They handed them out then took a seat with us at the table. We had to start with victimology, like always. Three women were found murdered and buried in Blue Ridge Parkway. They were all found buried next to each other in shallow, two-foot deep graves. The soil over the bodies was fairly new when they were found, which referenced that the Unsub was going back again and again to revisit the bodies. The victims themselves were slim, beautiful, brunette, brown eyed women. They had all been out for jogs on the pathway when they went missing. Victimology wise, he went for women who attracted him sexually, and he always went for them when they were alone and least expecting it. He took them, strangled them, and buried them deep in the forest where he thought no one would find them.

Based on such information, we could determine the simple: he visited the part enough to know it like the back of his hand. A park ranger would have that knowledge. He liked to revisit the scenes, which made it sexually motivated. He had a ruse and a plan in order to take his victims, which made him intelligent and organized. All of which pointed directly to Brian Matloff.

The best part was, with the third victim, Darci Corbet, there was a witness who could put Brian Matloff at the scene. While that sounded like that would suddenly make this an open and shut case, the downside was that Marvin Leopold, the witness on the trail that morning, died two years ago of an overdose. So the fact of the matter was this: there was no physical evidence connecting Matloff to the crimes, no one to put him at the scenes, and our Unsub had amnesia. Plain and simple, we were fucked.

Hotch wanted us to rebuild the profile, but… no matter how we looked at it, it pointed to Matloff. That was the unfortunate part of looking at the case after they had caught the guy. We were biased, and our profile was always going to be tweaked to point fingers at Matloff. Emily, JJ, and I were supposed to be the most impartial at that table, yet the three of us kept coming up with the same profile they built four years ago. Great. That wasn’t exactly helpful. How were we supposed to find another way to tie this to Matloff when our tunnel vision was blinding us from seeing outside the box? I almost wished that Hotch hadn’t told us about Matloff first. Maybe this would have been easier.

“What about this?” Emily asked, pointing to something in her file before turning it around for all of us to see. She had spotted something about Matloff’s fascination of Native American Culture, and she was curious how that helped the profile back then.

“Matloff was obsessed with the Native American belief that burying a body face down traps the soul of the person and prevents them from haunting the killer,” Reid explained. “Tying together his interest with the mythology, we were able to hone in on his M.O.”

“What caught his eye about that?” JJ asked. “I mean, he grew up Catholic in the city. How would he have grown into the obsession?”

Morgan shrugged. “We didn’t get that far.”

“What about the jewelry he took as souvenirs? Does that have anything to do with the mythology?” I asked.

“Not that I know of,” Reid said, shaking his head. “We don’t even know what he did with them. We were hoping that he kept them at his apartment so that we could have physical evidence tying him to the crime, but we never found anything.”

My phone buzzed with a text suddenly. I turned it over on the table to light up the screen and get a look. Hotch had texted to say: “Judge wants to meet this afternoon with how to proceed.” I looked up at the team as they were still chatting about what to do, and an idea hit me. I picked my phone up and texted Hotch back. “Psych eval.” It took him a few minutes to respond, which was why I was shocked when all it read was: “Thanks. Love you.” That meant that they were either going to do it, or Hotch was completely ignoring me. I wasn’t sure which. Then, my phone buzzed again. “Can you and JJ go to the hospital to learn more about Matloff’s amnesia and his stay there over the past four years?” I rolled my eyes. I texted back a reluctant: “Sure. Love you.”, then buried my phone in my pocket.

I looked at JJ and nodded towards the door. We gathered our things after she caught my hint. On our way out to the car, I told JJ what we were doing. The plan was to head to Matloff’s hospital, talk to the doctors, find out what we could about him over the past four years. It wasn’t much to go on, but we were going to do what we could.

At the hospital, JJ and I navigated our way to the wing where Matloff had been kept for the past four years. People were hurrying around us, monitors were beeping, doctors were shouting for help, and the elevator was dinging with every floor it passed, but JJ and I stayed to ourselves. We walked quietly and calmly, making our way there without bothering anyone. We knew what we were there for, we knew how to get the information, and we knew where to get it. There was no point running around like headless chicken like every other time I had been to the hospital over the past year.

When we reached the front desk of the wing that we needed to visit, JJ asked for the doctor that was overseeing Matloff’s case. We waited a few minutes while the nurse went off to find him, tell him what was going on, and bring him back over to us in the waiting area. After we spotted him coming down the hallway, storming his way over to us, JJ and I fixed our postures for the questioning that would ensue.

“What can I do for you agents?” the doctor asked hurriedly. He obviously had other places to be, but when the FBI comes asking for you, that usually trumps everything else.

“We just have a few questions for you about Brian Matloff,” JJ answered.

“What can you tell us about his amnesia?” I asked

The doctor chuckled. “The simple way or the complicated way?”

“Try us,” I squinted at him lightly.

“The patient has Focal Retrograde Amnesia, meaning he doesn’t remember anything from before he woke up this morning. His name, his birthday, his address, that’s all wiped from his memory. His intelligence remains the same, and his ability to form new memories is still intact, but I’m afraid he won’t be much use to you in court.”

“What about his stay here?” JJ asked. “Was there any sign that he’d wake up different, or was he a unique patient in any way?”

The doctor shook his head. “After about two weeks, you always tend to forget about the coma patients unless it’s a check up that you’re assigned to.”

“What about visitors?” I inquired, crossing my arms. I mean, it wasn’t prison. Anyone could come in and visit Matloff. It seemed like at the time of the investigation, he was a pretty “popular” murderer, and there was a fad around obsessing over psychopaths. Someone could have come to visit him. Right?

“Yeah,” the doctor nodded, “he had a visitor every day.”

“Every day?” I scoffed.

“Do you have a visitor log?” JJ asked.

“I’ll grab it for you guys.” He walked over to the desk to look for the log.

I turned to JJ. “Every day for four years?” I inquired. “You only do that if you’re in love or family.”

“So we’re looking for an admirer or someone he’s related to? But I thought his parents disowned him and he doesn’t have any siblings.”

I glanced over my shoulder to see that the doctor was returning with the visitor’s log. “Then we’re either dealing with a crazy fan or…”

“Her name’s Nina Moore,” he told us while handing it over to JJ.

“What does she look like?” I asked.

The doctor shrugged lightly. “Um… I mean… She had dark hair, she was short…”

“Was she white?”

“No. She looked Hispanic or Mediterranean.”

A thought struck me. “Native American?”

The doctor furrowed his brows before nodding vaguely. “Sure.”

JJ gave me a short, acknowledging nod before I stepped to the side to call Hotch. We never knew why Matloff liked Native American culture and mythology so much, but if he was in any way related to this Nina Moore, and if she really was of Native American descent, it made sense. If it could help the case, which it probably could, then we needed to find Nina Moore as soon as possible. Hotch needed to know first.

“Hotch,” I said into the phone when he picked up. “JJ and I found something at the hospital.” There was silence on the other end, but I could tell that he was listening. “There was a woman who visited Matloff every day. Her name’s Nina Moore, and the doctor said that she’s possibly Native American.”

“That’s great. Have JJ call Garcia to find out if you can find her. Cece and I just got to the office with Matloff. We’re about to start his psych eval, if you want to come in.”

I paused. “The judge approved the eval?”

Hotch hummed a, “Yes.”

“You… you motioned for it after I mentioned it?”

“Of course I did.”

I let my eyes fall shut as relief washed over me. He listened. He trusted me. I was so worried that I had stepped on his toes by offering up the idea of the psych eval. After how he responded to that text, I thought that he wasn’t going to listen to me, but he did. I had nothing to worry about. I knew Hotch trusted me, I should’ve known that he would listen. I almost felt stupid.

“I’ll be there as soon as JJ drops me off,” I told him.

“Okay,” he sighed. I could tell how tired he was already. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” It finally felt good to say it back after I was barred from doing it earlier in front of everyone in the bullpen.

When the line went dead, I put my phone away and told JJ that we needed to go. In the car, JJ called Garcia, as planned, to ask her to look for a Nina Moore. The idea was that Garcia would get us some information before we’d get back to the office, which meant that JJ could immediately leave to go seek out a new lead connecting to Nina. Thankfully, Garcia, the goddess she is, got us the information before we even pulled into the parking lot. She called back to let us know that Nina’s last name used to be Genesee. Through her wonderful talent of hacking, she was able to find out that Nina had a baby thirty-seven years ago, around the time Matloff was born, and gave her son up for adoption. When I asked if she had any Native American roots, Garcia chuckled before telling me, “Oh, yeah. She’s obsessed with it.” That was everything we needed.

So when we got to the office, JJ switched to take the driver’s seat, and I headed inside. On my way to the interrogation room down the hall to the left, I could see that Morgan, Reid, Rossi, and Emily were all in the boardroom, sitting around the roundtable, working on putting more of the case and profile together. They were all so nose deep in work that they hadn’t noticed my arrival at Quantico, even after I backpedaled to put my purse under my desk, then headed back out into the hallway.

In the mirror room connected to the interrogation room, I ran into Hotch and a woman with him. Hotch smiled lightly at me when he saw that it was me. The woman in the room didn’t acknowledge me yet, though.

“Y/N, this is Cece Hillenbrand,” Hotch said, pointing to the blonde woman next to him. “Cece, this is Agent Greenaway.” We shook hands and greeted each other with a smile.

“How’s it going in there?” I asked.

“Well, we already performed the eval once, yet nothing happened.”

“He passed?”

Hotch nodded. “I don’t know how.”

“Maybe he really doesn’t remember.”

“It’s possible. I want to run the test again, though.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “However, I want to do something different this time. I don’t like sending you in there with Unsubs who see you as their type, but…” Hotch hesitated while biting the nail on his thumb. “I think that if you sit in there with Matloff while they do the test again, it might…” He sighed and crossed his arms again. “It might arouse him enough that we might be able to get something out of him. But I won’t send you in there unless you—”

“I’ll do it, Hotch.” I stepped to the right and grabbed the handle of the door. “I’ll be fine.” I turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped into the room. As I entered, Matloff craned his neck to look at me. “Hello, Mr. Matloff, I’m Agent Greenaway. I’m going to sit in with you while we run the test again. Is that alright?”

Matloff silently nodded.

I took the seat across from him, just beside the monitor that was set up to show him the crime scene images of his victims. I nodded to the mirror window, a signal for them to start the test again. Just as I heard the slideshow buzz awake, I returned my stare to Matloff. He was watching the monitor intently, but I took note of how his eyes didn’t dilate, and his body didn’t move. Most Unsubs, even if they were trying to hide sexual attraction to their crimes, had an involuntary reaction to shift about uncomfortably. Usually, that had to do with trying to ignore any arousal so that their attraction wasn’t obvious. But not Matloff. He didn’t move a muscle. In fact, his face contorted slightly to show disgust and disapproval towards what he did to his victims. Most obvious, however, was that he didn’t look at me once.

When it was over, Matloff sighed, blinking his eyes dramatically as he looked away from the screen like he was trying to forget what he saw. I squinted at him slightly, trying to put together a profile in my mind. Either he was very good at hiding that he knew about the murders or he genuinely had no idea. My guess was the latter, unfortunately. And when the doctor came in, Matloff didn’t look at her, either, though she was also his type. Something just wasn’t fitting. The profile that the team built up four years ago, and the one we were recreating now wasn’t adding up. Something about Matloff was off.

I stood from my seat with the intent of leaving the room while the doctor detached him from all the different computers he was hooked up to. As I made my way around the table, reaching for the door, Matloff grabbed my arm. I seized up, looking down at him before thinking about trying to pull away. He glanced up at me, both of us ignoring how Hotch burst the door open to get between us. Matloff didn’t let go of me as Hotch tried to pry us apart, though.

“Do I know you?” he asked me. I furrowed my brows. “I mean, did we meet before, when I was still… you know…”

I snatched my arm away from him. “No. We’ve never met.”

Hotch kept his eyes glued to Matloff as I pushed past him in a hurry to leave the room. I didn’t care that he touched me or asked if we had met before, but what irked me was how he didn’t look at me once until I was leaving… and he didn’t appear enthralled at all. He seemed impartial. Interesting, considering his past. Perhaps he really didn’t remember what he did or who he was.

“So?” Hotch asked, closing the door behind us.

I shook my head. “Nothing. He didn’t flinch once. He didn’t even react positively. He seemed disgusted, Hotch. He didn’t look at me, he didn’t move, he didn’t smirk, his eyes didn’t even search the photos. He probably passed the test again.”

Hotch sighed in defeat. “Shit.”

“What does that mean?” Cece asked.

“It means that he really doesn’t remember—” Hotch began.

“Or you got the wrong guy,” I finished.

Cece’s arms fell to her sides for a moment as she came to terms with what she said. Either way, her case was going to fall apart in court very fast. The psych eval wasn’t admissible in court, which was the good news. We didn’t have to use it, but the defense would likely use the results of the eval to push their agenda that Matloff wasn’t involved in the first place.

“It’s been a long day,” Hotch finally spoke up after looking at the time. It was already past four. “We should call it so that we’re well rested for court tomorrow.”

Cece chuckled. She knew that she wasn’t getting sleep, and I knew that Hotch, Morgan, and Reid weren’t going to sleep, either. Even if he sent everyone home, it wouldn’t matter. This was going to eat at them until Matloff was behind bars for good. To my surprise, though, Cece “agreed” to Hotch’s idea. She grabbed her purse from the table behind her, wished us a goodnight, then left. Hotch and I turned back to face the interrogation room where they were getting ready to move Matloff out and take him back to jail.

“You okay?” I asked him, lifting my hand to run my fingers through his hair on the side of his head.

“I will be. At home.”

I nodded agreeingly before reaching back down to take his hand. “Let’s go home, then.”

When we left the mirror room, we stopped holding hands. We made our way back into the BAU so that Hotch could dismiss everyone officially, though they would all probably stay, anyhow. I grabbed my purse from under my desk, and Hotch grabbed his briefcase from his office up the ramp. Everyone wished us a good night as we hurried out.

Nothing was said between us on the way home. The radio was running and Hotch had his hand on my thigh, but we didn’t say anything. I could sense that he just needed quiet for a bit so that he could think. I was willing to do that. Honestly, I needed to think, too. Everything we learned all day was starting to come together in my head. Between finding out that Matloff had amnesia, that someone had gone to visit him every day, then he passed the psych eval, it seemed like the world just kept smacking Hotch in the face.

Hotch pulled into the driveway quietly. As he turned off the ignition, he sighed and slumped back against his seat. I unbuckled myself and turned to look at him. He looked exhausted and defeated, and, honestly, I couldn’t blame him. The day started off well. We got to work, we were happy, things were good. And then he got that call. Brian Matloff woke up and our day went down the drain. We were so busy running around, trying to rebuild a four year old case, and it had entirely worn him out. I didn’t envy him. Tomorrow, it was possible that he would have to testify, or at least start preparing to do so. Not only was our day long, but the next few were going to be hell, too. And all of it rested on Hotch’s shoulders.

“I’ll call in a pizza,” I offered quietly, trying not to disturb the peace he found in the car. He nodded. “Cinnamon knots, too?” He smiled and nodded. “Okay. Come on, Sleeping Beauty.”

We got out of the car slowly and lazily. While we made our way inside the house, I dug out my phone to place the pizza order. Hotch unlocked the door and turned off the alarm. We both fell onto the couch as I dialed the pizza place and waited for them to pick up. Before I could do anything, Hotch trapped me in his arms and pulled me towards him so that I was laying on my side, my back pressed against his chest as we cuddled. I kissed his forearms that were holding my chest to make sure I couldn’t escape. Then the line picked up and I started ordering. Hotch nuzzled his nose into the back of my neck, his breath hot against my skin, making me shiver and smile. I was trying to focus on getting the order right, but all I could think about was how much I loved him and how he never failed to make me swoon with even the smallest gestures like this. He was too precious, too pure to let the world ruin him like it was. This Matloff nonsense was ridiculous. He didn’t deserve it. I was just glad that I could be there to comfort him, and that I had the strength and energy to order a damn pizza when he clearly didn’t.

When I hung up after getting the order in, I put my phone on the coffee table in front of me, then turned over to face Hotch. His eyes were shut peacefully, and he was breathing calmly. He looked so untroubled for once. It didn’t look like the world had just dragged him through the mud all day. And when I brushed a hand through his long hair, he smiled. I kissed his nose gently then closed my eyes as we both hugged each other close. I loved him. So fucking much. The little moments like this always reminded me why all the shit in our lives was still worth it, that there was always a reason to keep fighting. If we didn’t have the shit moments and days, then we wouldn’t have these little moments like this, and what was the point then?

I kissed his cheek before my whole body went limp. I loved him. More than anything. The world didn’t deserve him. I didn’t deserve him.

“You okay?” he asked me softly. Both of our eyes were still shut, but I knew that he could still somehow see that my mind was racing. “I’m sorry I let things get out of hand at Matloff’s eval today.”

I shook my head slightly. “I haven’t even thought about it.”

“Then, what?”

“Sh…” I begged, squeezing him slightly. I just wanted to enjoy the silence a little longer. We could talk while eating. “I love you.”

Hotch kissed me tenderly. It was one of those light kisses that reminded me that he was there and that he loved me, but it wasn’t passionate or hard enough to rile us up. We just wanted to be lazy for a bit. That didn’t make us bad people. I think we had a tendency to forget that not everything was about work and sex. I mean, we obviously loved both. But taking a moment to just relax and be us amidst all the craziness in the world didn’t make us horrible people. In fact, it made us human.

Then the damn doorbell rang. I sighed as I tried to sit up to answer it, but Hotch was being stubborn. He was holding onto me for dear life despite acting like he was asleep. I pecked his cheek a thousand times, earning a wide smile and giggle from him. While he was distracted, I pried his arms off me and hurried over to the door. I grabbed my wallet from my purse next to the door, then paid for the pizza. By the time I turned back towards the living room with the food in hand and the door closed behind me, Hotch was actually sitting up on the couch.

When I tried to just set the box on the table so that I could go get plates and napkins, Hotch wrapped his arms around my waist again, and he pulled me onto his lap. To get back at me for my ticking kisses earlier, Hotch started attacking my neck with his lips. I bit back a laugh. I was trying to protest by standing up, but Hotch held me steady on him, so I finally gave up and turned my face to kiss him. He was caught off guard when I did it. I took the chance to carefully push him back against the couch while we kissed passionately and held each other. I swear, it was worth the sore and chapped lips. Always.

Hotch finally, after we were both breathless, let me pull away. I shifted around on his lap innocently, avoiding any contact that could be viewed as otherwise. I leaned forward and moved the small box of cinnamon knots so that we could get to the pizza underneath. Hotch still wasn’t letting me go to get plates or napkins. Asshole. So that meant things were going to get gross very fast unless he finally gave in. When I offered Hotch a slice, I think that was when he suddenly realized his mistake, because he immediately let me go, and even gently slapped the outside of my thigh to push me towards the kitchen. I glared at him over my shoulder. He smirked and winged his arms over the couch. He was absolutely impossible sometimes. Not jumping his bones every chance I could get felt like a challenge all the time, and he fucking new it.

Finally, when we had plates and napkins, and Hotch pulled me back onto his lap, we started eating. I was sitting on his thighs, my right shoulder facing him and my left shoulder facing the pizza on the table. As we ate, I was watching him out the corner of my eye. He still looked exhausted, but the food was giving him enough energy to keep sitting upright and not suddenly topple over.

“What do you remember about the case?” I asked him. That was what had been on my mind earlier, but I didn’t want to talk about it while we were relaxing. I also knew that I’d drop the topic the second we were done eating. “I mean, besides the facts. How did you feel? What stuck out to you the most? Would it really be so bad if Matloff doesn’t remember and he’s released? Just… what are you thinking?”

Hotch sighed quietly as he chewed on the bite he just took. “You really want to do this right now?”

I nodded. He was going to have to testify eventually, and it was probably better if he sorted all of his thoughts and feelings out beforehand. On the stand, he would have to be cool and collected. He couldn’t show any emotion because our jobs required us to push emotion aside for the sake of getting the truth. He needed to maintain that facade in court. However, if he didn’t discuss it all beforehand, I knew him well enough to know that he could get wound up if there was something on his mind. He could talk to me. Always. No matter what he was feeling or thinking about this, he could tell me.

“It was the first case I ever worked on with Reid. He was new, and he was still trying to prove himself—”

“Reid? Proving himself? Doesn’t sound like him,” I said sarcastically with a smirk.

Hotch pinched my thigh lightly to get me to be quiet. “Morgan and I weren’t close yet, but we respected each other. Our team just wasn’t what it is now. We weren’t…” He hesitated. I wanted him to say it. He could admit it. It wouldn’t kill him to say that we were a family. “We were just different,” he said, opting out of the truth. I tried to hide my slight disappointment. “I remember that the three of us felt bad for the victims, and we were desperate to find answers for them. I even… Honestly, I even felt bad for Matloff when he fell off that building, but that doesn’t excuse what he did. He did kill those girls, I know it, and there are definitely more bodies out there that we couldn’t find. Matloff’s playing a game, I can tell. I think that he’s smart, calculating, and vain. I feel like we shouldn’t let him get away with this, no matter what the eval said.”

“Do you think he’ll kill again if he’s found innocent?”

Hotch nodded and took another bite of his pizza.

As we pulled up to the courthouse, Hotch and I took notice of the media crowd that had gathered on the steps outside. Every major news channel had a van there with a reporter and a camera following everyone who was just trying to get inside. Poor Cece, Hotch’s lawyer friend, was caught in the middle of it while still trying to push through. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to that same adventure just to get into the courthouse for a few hours’ worth of the trial. It was only the first day of Matloff’s trial, which meant that it would be about an hour or so of excusing juror members, then both the prosecution and defense teams would get up in front of the jury to make their opening statements. If we happened to get to witnesses, it would be an absolute miracle. Considering the media frenzy surrounding this case, it was going to take forever just to find suitable juror members, and then to get through the opening statements? What a mess.

Hotch started getting out of the car, but I stopped him by grabbing his hand. I was still staring at all of the reporters on the opposite side of the parking lot, which must have tipped off Hotch about why I stopped him, because he settled back in his seat and kissed my knuckles. My breath sputtered as I tried to calm down against his touch, but I was still nervous about it. The media wasn’t exactly my thing. In our line of work, I liked staying back to do the behind the scenes work. That one time in St. Louis, during the Mill Creek Killer case, that was different, because Gideon and JJ practically forced me to be up there during the media meeting just to lure in the Hollow Man. But this… They knew who Hotch was, and therefore they probably knew who I was. It didn’t take a genius like Reid to figure out that mine and Hotch’s careers were nearly destroyed because of our relationship. Reporters were vultures, and I was sure that they already knew that they were dating, and that was somehow going to be made relevant on the nine o’clock news. Assholes.

He kissed my knuckles again. “Just hold onto me and stay close, okay?” I nodded. “They’re going to try to ask you questions, and they’re going to try to get under your skin in order to get a reaction. Don’t give them the satisfaction, alright?” I nodded again. “Come on,” he invited lightly, tugging at my hand.

We separated for a moment so that we could get out of the car. I raced around to the front where he was waiting for me, holding out his hand, and smiling at me. I took his hand and hugged my side close to his. Before we started towards the stairs, Hotch locked the car. When we were all sorted, Hotch started leading me forwards, though I was reluctant. It was so weird that I wasn’t afraid of sitting in the room with psychopaths like Matloff, yet I couldn’t face a crowd of reporters. That said something about me, didn’t it?

The closer we got, the more reporters started to take notice of our approach. It started with just one, but once they told their camera man to turn around, everyone else took their lead. Hotch and I were immediately surrounded before we even made it onto the steps. He got ahead of me slightly, making sure that his hold on my hand was still there and that I was still pressed against his side. He put his arm out, trying to push through all the microphones and cameras so that I wouldn’t have to. I kept my head low, focusing my gaze on my feet and trying not to trip on Hotch as we shuffled up towards the courthouse. Reporters were screaming in my ear still, though. They were all shouting questions, and cameras were flashing in my eyes, and microphones were bumping into the back of my head. At one point, I thought I heard someone mention Jack. I tried to stop to see who said it, but Hotch kept pulling me along.

When we finally got inside, I sighed with relief, and tripped into Hotch’s shoulder. He caught me and asked, “You alright?”

I giggled and nodded. “Yeah. There’s a reason why JJ always deals with the media and I’m not jealous of her.”

Hotch chuckled. “Fair enough.”

“Thank god you’re here,” Cece cheered, approaching us in a hurry. “Are you ready? We’re starting in a few minutes.”

Hotch nodded, and I followed his lead into the courtroom. The audience seats in the back of the room were surprisingly full. Reid was already sitting down towards the front with two empty seats beside him. It almost looked like he saved them for us. I smiled lightly as we headed over to him and Hotch jokingly asked him if those seats were taken after we startled him somewhat. Reid fixed his hair and gestured for us to sit down.

After a few minutes of sitting in silence, listening to the room talk in whispers, the jury was called in. Everyone fell silent as we watched them file into their seats. When they were done, we were asked to stand for the judge. Hotch slyly took my hand as we stood up. Afterwards, when the judge was seated, he told us to sit, and the prosecution and defense teams started taking their turns asking the jury questions to see who should be excused. By some miracle, time flew by, and not a single member was dismissed. So the opening statements began. Cece stood to go first.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you’re here today to bring justice to the families of the three beautiful, young women who lost their lives four years ago to a cold blooded, calculating killer. Darci Corbet, Celeste Ferami, April Sotherford. Three women out for a run on the Blue Ridge Parkway trail when they were approached by a park ranger. An employee who abused his authority to lure these women into a secluded area where he could safely perform the act of murder. He strangled them slowly, inflicting maximum suffering and terror, ensuring that he would gain the most pleasure from the kill. He buried them in shallow graves, leaving them turned upside down in the most demeaning position. And then he thought he got away with it. But he didn’t. We caught him. Now, ladies and gentlemen, it is your civil duty to finally bring justice for his three victims. It’s your duty to put this man away once and for all so that he can not hurt anyone else. Thank you for being here, for helping to put an end to this monster’s insanity.”

Cece turned away from the jury to return to her seat. When she sat down, I felt Hotch give my hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Counselor, would the defense like to make its opening statement now or wait ‘til the prosecution rests?” the judge asked.

The defense lawyer stood. “We would like to give our opening statement now, Your Honor.”

“You may begin.”

The lawyer stepped around the table to approach the jury. “Was the murder of the three women found dead in Blue Ridge Parkway a result of the act of murder? Perhaps. Ladies and gentlemen, over the next few days or so, you’re going to be told that my client was responsible for these horrendous deaths, but this is nothing but a theory. There is no eyewitness, no fingerprints, no DNA, no physical evidence tying my client to any of these crimes. None. Not even a murder weapon. Not one shred of hard evidence.”

I squeezed Hotch’s hand. This was what we feared most. We tried and tried to get something, to find new evidence, but there was nothing. Of course the defense was going to base their argument around that. It was the obvious out. But Cece was still going to fight like hell, and Hotch wasn’t going to let Matloff get away with it. We still had time to find something. JJ was still looking for Nina Moore, which meant that we could possibly have a new lead soon.

“The only way that they can tie my client to these crimes is through the pseudo-science called profiling. That’s not evidence, ladies and gentlemen. That’s grasping at straws to put an innocent man away in prison. All I ask of you, the jury, is to keep an open mind over the next few days. Recognize that there are people rushing to close this case, and they will pin it on my innocent client if they must. That is all.”

“Thank you, Counselor,” the judge said. “Prosecution, you may call your first witness.”

“The prosecution would like to call Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner to the stand,” Cece said to the court.

I looked over at Hotch. I didn’t think we’d get to witnesses yet— and I especially didn’t anticipate that Hotch was already going to testify. I thought we had a little more time. He told me that he was prepared for it, but I was still caught off guard by it. It was as though he expected it, however, because Hotch untangled our fingers, and he stood to walk up to the stand.

After being sworn in, Hotch took a seat, adjusted his suit, cleared his throat, and looked up at Cece to signal that she could begin questioning him. Cece stepped around the table she had been sitting at and neared the center of the court.

“Agent Hotchner, could you please state your full name and title for the court?” Cece began her questioning, going easy so that Hotch could get comfortable up there first.

“Aaron Hotchner. I’m a Supervisory Special Agent for the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI in Quantico.”

“And what does the Behavioral Analysis Unit do, Agent?”

“We took at the psychological aspect of suspects in order to catch them. We look at behavior, victimology, the suspect’s Modus Operandi, and linkage analysis.”

“What is linkage analysis?”

“It’s the process in which my team and I attempt to link all of the behaviors between crime scenes in order to prove that one person is responsible, and from there we can determine who is responsible.”

“So, through the process of linkage analysis, you and your team concluded that all three of these murders had been committed by one man.”

Hotch nodded. “Yes, that’s correct.”

“And that man was the defendant, Brian Matloff?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell us how you came to that conclusion, Agent Hotchner?”

Hotch looked over at me for a brief moment before answering Cece’s question. “Four years ago, along with Agents Reid and Morgan, we began to analyze the behavior of the unknown subject, which we refer to as the Unsub. We took into account the behaviors that led up to the murders, during the murders, and following at the murders. Through that analysis, we were able to create a profile that allowed us to generate a suspect pool, which we could eventually use to narrow down to one Unsub. By assessing what we knew about the victims, the crime scenes, and the behaviors, we were able to conclude that the Unsub was in a position of power, like being a park ranger at Blue Ridge Parkway. Because of how the bodies were buried, we could tell that he was not only a ranger, but he was going back to the scene to relive the experience to gain gratification of either the sexual or sadistic nature. Once we had concluded that he was a park ranger, all of the evidence began to make sense, which then led us straight to Brian Matloff.”

“Well, how did you come to the direct conclusion that it was the defendant? I imagine that there are thousands of people who work for the park service. How were you able to narrow your suspect pool, as you put it?”

“Our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, helped us narrow down the search. We knew that his knowledge of the forest was extensive, which meant that he wasn’t recently employed. We also knew that he knew the area and path around the waterfall well enough to know where to hide the bodies so that they wouldn’t be found, which meant that he was mostly stationed in that area. The last thing we checked for was which of the park rangers was injecting themselves into our investigation. Most of the rangers wanted the whole thing to go away, so they went on as normal, but Brian Matloff was constantly hovering and prying for answers that we couldn’t give him.”

“Couldn’t he have just been a concerned worker and citizen?”

“At first, we were also skeptical, but once we delivered our profile to his co-workers, they reassured us that he fit the same behaviors that we were looking for.”

“So, after deciding on the defendant as a lead suspect, what did you and your team do?”

“We decided to go speak with him at his mother’s home, but she told us that he had left earlier with ‘a lady friend’. We tracked him down to a secret apartment he had. We took a SWAT team with us because we were under the impression that he had a hostage or another victim. When we tried to get him to open the door, that was when we realized that he had started climbing through the fire escape. When Agent Morgan pursued him, that was when Matloff jumped.”

“And the woman that was thought to be with him?”

“We never found her… But we believe that he killed her and disposed of her remains somewhere.”

Cece nodded at Hotch before looking to the judge, “No further questions, Your Honor.” Cece walked back to her seat at the prosecution’s table.

“Would the defense like to cross examine the witness?” the judge asked.

The defense attorney stood. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“You may begin.”

“Agent Hotchner, in your report of the night that my client attempted to run away from the police, you called that ‘a strong indicator of his guilt’. Were you aware that he had an outstanding warrant at the time of his arrest?”

“Yes,” Hotch answered.

“So, isn’t it possible that Mr. Matloff fled, not because he was guilty of murder, but because he was guilty of the outstanding warrant?”

“There were eight law enforcement officers in bullet proof vests standing outside his door. I doubt that any reasonable person would—”

“A simple yes or no answer will suffice.”

Hotch bit his bottom lip briefly. He was getting a little worked up, but he was holding it back. “Yes, it’s possible.”

“Right. And you say that it was your team’s profile that led you to my client’s door in the middle of the night—”

“A behavioral analysis profile was a factor in our investigation, yes, but there were more factors involved.”

“Such as?”

Hotch fell short. We still didn’t have any physical evidence, and there weren’t any witnesses tying Matloff to the scene. While there was always more that went into a case than just a dumbed down profile that people would see in a report, it was hard to explain to people outside of the job. Most people didn’t understand what it took to work for the BAU. Being smart and fit was part of it, of course, but being able to put together clues that weren’t really there was sometimes part of it, too. It sounded like what happened with Matloff was a case of putting things together that weren’t tangible, while not thinking the future, like this, through ahead of time. It explained why Hotch was more careful nowadays.

The defense lawyer moved on, realizing that he wasn’t going to get an answer out of Hotch, which only helped prove his case. “These behavioral analysis profiles are what your unit in the FBI does, correct?”

“Yes.”

“You use this formula for every case you work on?”

“Yes.”

“You used this same formula for cases like the Olympic Park Bombings in Atlanta?”

“Yes.”

“And was that suspect that you identified, Richard Jewell, ever convicted of those bombings?”

“Objection,” Cece called from her seat. “Relevance?”

“Goes to the credibility of the witness and his field.”

“I’ll allow it,” the judge nodded.

Hotch’s lip pursed. That hit a nerve, I could tell. “No, he was not convicted.”

“Why was that?” the lawyer asked.

“Because the real suspect, Eric Rudolph, attempted another bombing while Jewell was in custody.”

“So you profiled the wrong man.”

“No. Our profile was dead on; we just had the wrong man.”

The lawyer scoffed. “And how about the Baton Rouge Killer? Your unit said that he was white and living in the city. He was black and from the suburbs. You said that the B.T.K Killer, Dennis Rader, was divorced and impotent. He was married with children. So, Agent Hotchner, was it possible that you profiled the wrong man this time, too?”

Hotch didn’t waver. He answered with his stone-cold glare and said, “No.”

“The truth is,” the lawyer turned to the jury, “behavioral analysis is just intellectual guesswork. You probably couldn’t tell me the color of my socks with any greater accuracy than a carnival psychic.”

I swear, if I weren’t in a court, I would have leapt out at that man and strangled him then and there myself. I knew that it was his job to practically tear down Hotch’s reputation in order to prove his case, but… my blood was boiling. He didn’t have what it took to be a part of the BAU. Hell, he didn’t have what it took to even be a part of the FBI. For him to look Hotch in the eye while saying all of that made me angry. Hotch was great at his job. He was the best of the best. He had been working tirelessly for decades to get where he was in his career. It wasn’t fucking guesswork. We trained and worked to learn how to profile. In a way, it was an art. Not just anyone could wander in one day and say: “I want to be a profiler.” It took more than that. It took training, education, and time. That was why it took me so damn long to get into the BAU in the first place.

The lawyer turned away from Hotch so that he could smirk to himself at his little victory. I caught him, though, as he looked up and made eye contact with me. My face was just as stone-cold as Hotch’s, but my eyes were telling a different story. Honestly, I looked like I wanted to kill him. I hardly knew him, yet I wanted to dance circles around his grave. I knew that Hotch was the protective one in our relationship, but there was something about the way that lawyer talked to him that made me want to—

“Charcoal gray,” Hotch spoke up plainly.

The lawyer’s smirk disappeared as he spun back around. “What?”

“Your socks.”

He chortled. “Well, you got one right.”

Hotch glanced over to me again, and I shifted in my seat when I felt myself grow hot. There was a look in his eyes that countered mine. While I was seeing red, he was still calm, collected, and sophisticated. He was even trying to hide a smirk. That was how he always looked when he knew that he was going to get the best of me. That look… it made my knees weak, and he knew it. That was why he glanced over in the first place.

“You match them to the color of your suit,” he said as he slowly looked back over at the lawyer, “to appear taller. You also wear lifts and you’ve had your soles replaced multiple times. One might think you’re frugal, but in reality, you’re broke. The Rolex on your wrist is a fake because you’ve already pawned the real one to pay off your debts, and you don’t want anyone to know, especially your family, because then they’d find out about your gambling addiction. I can tell you exactly what kind of gambling, too.” He shot me a quick glance. I hid my flushed face as I looked down at the ground. “Your vice is horses. Your Blackberry’s been buzzing on the table every twenty minutes, which happens to be the average time between posts from colonial downs. You’re getting race results…” I bit my lip and sank in my chair. “And every time you do, it affects your mood in court, and you’re not having a very good day. That’s because you pick horses the same way you practice law— by always taking the long shot.”

I gulped and tried to stop moving my thighs that were rubbing together for friction under my dress. I knew I made a mistake putting on Hotch’s favorite dress. I hadn’t worn it since the flight to St. Louis because it only got me in trouble the last time, but I thought that since it was a special occasion and we weren’t going into work, it would be nice. But now I could feel exactly how wet I was getting against the wooden seat beneath me, and I was cursing myself for rolling the skirt up to appear shorter, just like I always did. I was such an idiot.

“If I’m not mistaken, the results from the fifth race should be coming through any minute.”

And like clockwork, the lawyer’s phone started to buzz on the table. I looked up through my lashes to see that Hotch was grinning slightly at me. He knew what he did, that asshole. Not only had he gotten to the lawyer, but he had gotten to me, too. Fuck.

“Why don’t you tell us if your luck has changed,” Hotch concluded.

The lawyer tensed. His posture changed, his hands buried themselves into his pocket, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. Well, if only my whole job weren’t a sham, I could have told him that his behavior meant that Hotch was right, and he was embarrassed at the profile that had been given in front of the entire court. Oh, wait. I had enough training and knowledge to make even the simplest of deductions about that man. He wasn’t unique, he wasn’t hard to read, he wasn’t special. Honestly, Hotch shouldn’t have wasted his breath profiling him in the first place, but I was glad he did, anyhow.

“No further questions, Your Honor,” the lawyer croaked, picking up his phone and stuffing it in his pocket.

“Very well. The court will be adjourned until 9AM tomorrow.” The judge banged the gavel down, and everyone moved to disperse.

Hotch came down off the stand, brushing past the lawyer without another glance or word. I stood from my seat carefully, testing to see if my knees could support me. It would have been embarrassing if I just toppled over then and there. Hotch reached out for my hand when he was close enough, and he started pulling me into the hallway outside the courtroom. I chased after him, having to skip a few steps just to keep up. When we made it out of the room, he stopped, pulled me into a sudden hug, picked me up off my feet, and spun me around. I giggled into his shoulder before he set me down carefully.

I looked at him when we parted. “Home. Now.”

“We have to go back to the office—”

“We’ll call them.” I pulled at his red tie around his neck slightly, making it look like an innocent and simple adjustment. “Please, Sir,” I whispered.

Hotch licked his lips as he looked around the hallway to make sure that no one heard. “We call them first.” I nodded. “You’ll behave until we get home.” I nodded. “Okay.” He grabbed my hand again and started pulling me out of the courthouse again.

The media was still there, and they were still pressing for questions, but Hotch and I ignored them as we made our way through. While it felt like an eternity to get into the courthouse originally, it felt like we practically teleported out. We rushed to the car. Hotch already had his phone out, and he was calling Morgan for an update. He put the phone on speaker as it dialed. I anxiously pulled at my seatbelt as Hotch started pulling out of the spot we were parked in.

Morgan picked up. “Out of court already?”

“Just finished the cross examination,” Hotch replied.

“How’d it go?”

“It went fine. What’s the update at the office?”

“We’ll just tell you when you get here,” Morgan insisted from a distance, like he was occupied with something else.

“We’re not coming in.”

Morgan scoffed, “Hotch, it’s only noon.”

“Yeah, I know, but Y/N isn’t feeling well, so we’re just going to head home.”

I glared at him, but he smirked at me.

“Okay,” Morgan sighed. “JJ and Rossi found Matloff’s birth mother. They’re there now, trying to talk to her about him and see if she’ll come forward as any kind of witness. Not much else has happened around her, unfortunately. We’re searching high and low, but it’s just like four years ago, we can’t find anything useful. Hopefully, his mom will have something that will pin him to the crimes.”

Hotch took a sharp right turn, making me grab onto the ceiling handle. He apologized quietly to me before continuing with Morgan, “Alright, well, just keep us updated. Send me a text when JJ and Rossi are done at the mother’s.”

“You got it. Tell Y/N to feel better.”

I hit a smirk by looking out the window. Hotch took a moment to clear his throat, also trying to mask the irony of Morgan’s comment that was making us snicker. “I will,” Hotch said calmly. “We’ll talk later.” And then he hung up the phone and threw it in the cup holder. “I told you to behave,” he said to me.

“I didn’t do anything!” I shouted defensively with a smile. “You can’t blame me this time.”

“I can and I am.” Hotch was trying to hide a playful smile. The longer I looked at him, though, the more he started to crack. “I love you, Y/N,” he admitted before he could let his smile shine through.

I grabbed his hand from the steering wheel and kissed his knuckles gingerly. “I love you, too.”

We pulled up to the house and I started to get excited about what was to come. The second we were in the door, I pushed him against the wall. I kicked the door closed behind me using my foot, and I ignored the ringing alarm just for a few moments so that I could get a hold on his tie and pull him in for a lustful kiss. When my lips were on his, Hotch grabbed my face and leaned over me to kiss me harder. Suddenly, he was pushing me backwards into the wall behind me, and while still kissing me and fighting for dominance with his tongue, Hotch stuck out his right hand and blindly searched for the alarm. He turned it off, then moved his hand to cup my neck. I moaned as he pinned me roughly against the wall. He parted from my lips and started panting.

“Why—”

“What you did on the stand…” I tried to kiss him again, but he tightened his grip around my neck, keeping me pinned. “I don’t know… I just…” I licked my lips. “It was hot, baby.”

His eyes turned a dark, lustful black as he smirked. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “Yes, Sir. Please.” I wiggled, trying to create friction between my legs while simultaneously trying to touch him.

“Stay still,” he demanded. I could practically see him transition into Dom space, and in return, I immediately fell into sub space. I did as he asked, holding myself back from moving, and he released me. I watched impatiently, yet still obediently, as he reached for the tie around his neck and started pulling it off. “I wore my lucky tie for you today,” he told me. I had recognized that move when he got dressed in the morning, but I didn’t think that he’d say anything about it. He only wore it now and again when he needed good luck or there was a special occasion. It was the kind of day that needed luck and celebration, I supposed. “And I couldn’t stop thinking about doing this to you.” He grabbed my wrists and tied them together. I whimpered as he pulled it as tight as he could. “Quiet.” I nodded. “Good girl.” He raised my arms over my head, and he hung my tied wrists on one of the coat hooks on the wall. “Keep them there.” I nodded again, and he kissed me as a reward. “My good girl.” I bit back a moan. “Tug gently.” I did so, pulling my hands a bit to test the strength of the hooks in order to get a feel of how hard I could squirm without ripping the panel of hooks out of the wall. “Is that okay?” I nodded. “Good girl,” he complimented again while kissing my neck. I tugged again involuntarily, wanting to just reach out and touch his hair. “What was hot about me today, baby? You can talk.”

I let out a moan that had been building in my chest before I did anything else. Hotch smirked against my skin, then bit down gently to start leaving a hickey. “The way you talked to him— talked down on him. The way you silently profiled him, and then you—” I gasped when his hands cupped my breasts and started lightly massaging them. “Then you—” My knees buckled as he reached under my dress to unclasp my bra, then slid his hands under my bra so that he could pinch my nipples. “Sir—”

“Don’t stop.”

“I can’t…”

“Yes, you can. Keep going. What did you like about how I talked to him?”

I hesitated, trying to not think about the way he was pinching and rolling my nipples between his fingers. “You… You were so calm, so collected… Just like you are now…” I bucked my hips forward when he pulled at my nipples slightly. “I’ve never seen you profile like that… Like it was fun…”

He smirked and slid his hands out from under my dress. “Do you want to know what I think about you?’ I gulped as he let out a low, wicked chuckle that came from his throat, and he got incredibly close to my face, however, he didn’t touch me yet. “I know that you’re always a needy little whore for me. Always. I know that every time you look at me, your pupils dilate, and I can tell that you’re thinking about having me fuck you so hard you see stars. I know that you’d be on your knees right now, choking on my cock, if I asked you to. But I also know that you like to be a little brat all the time because you like getting me riled up so that I punish you. I know you whine, moan, and beg for mercy, but you secretly like it when I edge or deny you. I know that you’ll pull and tug at any restraints I put you in, but you’ll never actually put your full force into it because you like being a helpless slut.” He grabbed my neck. “I know that you like when I do this…” he whispered into my ear as he squeezed. I threw my head back, giving his hand more access and him a clearer view of what he was doing so that he would know not to go too far. “I know that you liked how I talked to that man today because I degraded him, and you like being degraded, too, don’t you?” I struggled against the restraints slightly in response. “Oh, yeah. I know I hit the mark. You want to know how I know? Because I’m good at what I do, and you’re obvious.” He released my neck, and I gasped for air. “I know that I haven’t even touched you, yet you’ve probably already soaked through your panties.” He grabbed my thighs roughly. He took a moment to make sure that I had caught my breath, then pushed my thighs open until my feet shuffled to shoulder width apart. When I was spread for him, he reached down to cup my heat with his palm to feel how I had soaked my panties, just as he had suspected. “Hmmm…” he moaned in my ear, “called it.” Within an instant, he yanked my panties down, helping me step out of them carefully, however. “Open,” he demanded once he had my panties crumpled in his palm. I opened my mouth and he suddenly shoved my panties in. “Do you taste how wet I made you?”

I moaned a, “Yes, Sir,” behind my gag, and my knees buckled, the coat hook barely catching me.

“Stand up straight, slut.” He grabbed my neck again and pulled me up. “Stay like that.” His hand returned to below my dress, and without warning, he thrust two of his fingers into me. I screamed behind the gag. “You scream when you know you shouldn’t moan; did you know that? You do it whenever you’re ashamed to admit that you enjoy what I’m doing to you.” He curled his fingers inside me, and I bit down on the gag to make sure I wouldn’t scream again. He chuckled, “And you get quiet when you don’t want to be punished.” He squinted. “What would I have to punish you for? Hmmm? Being a needy whore?” He hit my g-spot on purpose. “For jumping me the second we get into the house? For wearing this dress today and thinking that I wouldn’t notice? Let me tell you something. I gave that profile because all I could think about was getting home and torturing you all afternoon, so I just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.” His thumb found my clit and started playing with it at an unrelenting pace. “And now that we’re here—” I screamed again when I felt my orgasm approaching, and it was getting extremely hard to stay up on my feet. I wanted to collapse again, but Hotch was glaring at me with a dare to try it. “Cum now and I’ll leave you like this all night.” My eyes pouted. “You better hold it.”

“Sir—”

“No.”

I whined, trying to hold still to prevent added stimulation. My walls clenched around his fingers, my stomach tightened, and I held onto his tie around my wrists to pray that I wouldn’t tip over the edge. Hotch had other plans, though. He worked harder to make me cum His fingers kept curling against my g-spot, his bicep bulging in his shirt to show all the effort he was going to in order to keep pumping his fingers in and out of me at an ungodly pace.

“Hold it for twenty seconds while I count, and I’ll let you cum.”

I nodded, screwing my eyes shut so that I could concentrate. “Yes, Sir.”

Hotch started counting backwards from twenty. He went slow and steady, watching me intently as I tried so hard not to fall apart. Trying not to cum around him while also putting energy into staying on my feet was nearly impossible, even when he got to ten. And he slowed down his counting even further. The asshole was taking about two to three seconds between every count, and I was so close to the fucking edge. I could practically feel myself already tipping over by five, but I kept trying to hold on for as long as I could.

“Three…” His thumb on my clit changed direction and pace, making me scream out again. “Two…” He hit my g-spot again. “One…” I just had to wait for the order. Any second now. I was about to tip over. “Cum.”

I came for him as he said it. My knees buckled again, and I kept screaming behind the gag, cursing his name over and over again. My walls tightened even further somehow, my legs shook, my arms pulled against the coat rack holding me back, and I felt my breath leave my lungs. Hotch pulled my panties out of my mouth. Before I could say anything, his lips were back on mine. He swallowed each of my moans as he continued to fuck me through my high. When I was done, though, and my body gave out, Hotch slowed his fingers.

“Good girl,” he whispered, somehow just as breathless as I was. I let my head fall forward onto his shoulder while he slid his fingers out of me. “Suck,” he demanded, shrugging his shoulder to lift my head. Exhausted, I looked up at him and let him shove his wet fingers into my mouth. “My good cum slut.” I moaned around his fingers. “You okay?” I nodded. He pulled his hand away. “Can you stand?”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Once you let me down, I think I’ll fall.”

He snickered, “I’ll catch you.” He wrapped one of his arms around me while he reached up to pull my arms off the coat hook. As my tied wrists fell in front of me, Hotch caught me, just like he promised. “Did I get my profile right?” he laughed.

I hit his shoulder with my clasped fists. “That’s the only time I’ll ever let you profile me.”

“They say while shaking against me after screaming my name.”

I hit him again. “I could profile you, too, you know.”

“Mhm, you’ll have to do that after this,” he said before throwing me over his shoulder easily. I tried to protest, but my hands were still tied, and he spanked my ass when I tried to kick at him. I felt Hotch’s phone buzz against my hip, though, as we made our way upstairs. Hotch waited until I was sitting on the bed to check what was going on. “JJ and Rossi said that Matloff sent her the victims’ jewelry.”

My eyes widened. “Will she testify?”

Hotch nodded. “Yeah.”

“Come here,” I coaxed him towards me. Hotch threw his phone on the bed and leaned over me. I draped my tied wrists over his head, trapping them around his neck so that he couldn’t escape me. “I love you.”

Hotch leaned in for a kiss. “I love you, too.” And then he pushed me back onto the mattress.

In court the following morning, Hotch met up with Cece early to review the new evidence the team found. They also discussed the questions they were going to throw at Matloff’s mother. It sounded like we really had a good, winning case. That was a relief, at least. After yesterday's fiasco, we were on a winning high, but we needed to maintain that momentum. Bringing this new evidence forward was going to throw the defense for a loop, which meant that they would need time to examine the evidence themselves and prepare questions for Nina. Ultimately, that just meant that we would spend about thirty minutes setting up the court, another thirty reviewing the trial thus far, then the prosecution would get to start questioning Matloff’s mother. That was it. Short and sweet. Impactful. This was going to bury Matloff.

Hotch kissed me in the hallway outside the courtroom before he went in with Cece. Since he was part of the prosecution team (somehow), he got to sit up front with Cece this time, unlike yesterday, when he sat back in the crowd with me. I sat in the first row, just behind him. Just as anticipated, the first hour came and went without anything of interest, but then Cece was called to invite her next witness to testify.

“The prosecution would like to call Mrs. Nina Moore to the stand,” Cece said after standing from her seat at the table.

Everyone turned to watch as a woman sitting in the back of the courtroom stood. She was a tiny woman in every way, but she fit the description of Matloff's ideal targets. Slim, tiny, brunette, brown eyes women. It suddenly made sense why he hunted victims with that appearance because they were surrogates for his mother. His obsession with Native American culture stemmed from her, and when she turned him away (the stressor), he took it out on women who mirrored her image. If only they had that for the profile four years ago, or even a few days prior to her taking the stand. Would’ve been a huge help.

After being sworn in, Nina took a seat so that Cece could begin questioning her. Cece immediately dove in with, “Can you please state your name for the court?”

“Nina Moore.”

“And what is your relationship to the defendant?”

“I’m his birth mother,” Nina admitted. “I gave him up for adoption when he was a baby.”

“And that was how long ago?”

“Thirty-seven years.”

“So, you didn’t have a relationship with him?”

“No. I never saw him until 2003.”

“How did that happen?”

“He found me,” Nina whispered, looking down at her hands. “He wanted to learn about his heritage, my family. We met at a café, talked for a bit, then he left.”

“You talked about your family?”

“Yes.”

“What specifically?”

“He said he wanted to come home, to be a part of my family. But I told him that I couldn’t do that.”

“You felt that he was being irrational.”

“No, not at all. I just thought that he was a little lost. He wanted to belong to something.” Her voice started to crack as she suppressed the cry bubbling in her chest. “Turning him away was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do!”

“Mrs. Moore, did the defendant ever try to contact you after that?” Cece asked, trying to get back on topic.

“Yes. He sent me something in the mail.”

“What was it?”

“A necklace. Two months later, I got another one. Then two months after that, I got a watch. I thought he was trying to persuade me with gifts or something. I never imagined…” She fell short of admitting the truth to the court.

“Your Honor,” Cece began, making her way back to her table, “I’d like to enter into evidence People’s Exhibits ‘F’ through ‘H’.” She picked up the bags of evidence and brought them back over to Nina on the stand. “Are these the items that you received in the mail?”

“Yes.”

“And this watch that you see in this bag, do you also see it in this photo?” she asked while holding up both pieces of evidence.

Nina froze. “Yes, that’s it.”

“Let the record show,” Cece said, turning towards the jury, “that the watch worn in this photograph of the third murder victim, Darci Corbet, was the same watch that the witness received from the defendant in the mail.” Cece put the evidence down. “I have no further questions, Your Honor.”

“Thank you, Counselor. Court will resume tomorrow morning at 9AM for cross examination of the witness,” the judge said, banging his gavel.

As we were all dismissed, and I stood to greet Hotch, I was taken aback when he walked over to Matloff’s table to look at something after he had been taken back into custody. My eyes followed Hotch, confusion washing over me. What did he see over there that was of interest? I didn’t understand. So I tried whispering his name to catch his attention, but he didn’t look at me. Cece and I exchanged a glance, and we both shrugged. I hissed Hotch’s name again, this time getting him to look at me. He went back to his seat at the prosecution’s table, grabbed his things, reached over the median to grab my hand, and started dragging me out of the courtroom.

“Hotch,” I called his name again quietly as we entered the hallway, “what is it?”

“I think that Matloff is getting his memories back,” Hotch said eagerly.

Cece and I exchanged another confused glance. When I looked back at Hotch, I asked, “What makes you think so?”                   

“I looked at the notepad in front of him during the trial today, and there were tears on it.”

“So?” Cece questioned.

“You don’t have that kind of reaction unless you’re connected,” Hotch explained.

If what he was saying about the tears, then it was true. I mean, I had my suspicions concerning his behavior in court, but I was never sure, especially considering how his evaluation the other day went. I thought that he genuinely didn’t remember anything and didn’t have any more sadistic tendencies because of how he passed that test. But Hotch was right, something was off. It was possible that Matloff was getting his memories back. If that were the case, then we needed to speak with him or the guards protecting him immediately to see if there was any new information we could use.

“I’ll go talk to the guards to see if they’ve noticed anything weird about his behavior, or if he’s mentioned anything about getting his memory back,” I offered. Hotch nodded, agreeing that it was a good idea. I started making my way down the hallway where Matloff was taken so that he could get changed back into his prison clothes. I flashed my badge to the court official standing guard outside, and he let me through without hesitation. “Thanks,” I whispered, moving past him carefully. I turned the corner and came to a sudden halt when I bumped into someone. “Sorry,” I apologized. When I looked up, I realized that I had run into Matloff, who was holding a gun. I reached for my weapon in my holster, but he already had his pointed at my temple. “Okay,” I mumbled, surrendering my hands. “Okay.”

“Don’t scream or try anything,” he demanded gruffly, grabbing my gun from my hip.

“Okay,” I agreed again.

“Walk quietly and calmly with me outside.” He pushed me towards the emergency exit down the hallway. With my hands still raised, I led the way towards the door. “Do you have a car?”

“I drove here with my boyfriend.”

“That’ll work.”

I pushed the door open. An alarm started ringing, triggering Matloff to push me out faster. With the gun pressed to my back, we hurried through the parking lot, avoiding detection from the media since we were leaving through a backdoor, and they were focused on finding out what the alarm was at the front door. I led Matloff to Hotch’s car, and he made me get into the driver’s seat while he got into the passenger’s.

“Your cellphone,” Matloff gestured with the gun before pointing it in my face again. “Throw it out the window.” I silently cursed him for having enough brains to realize that Hotch would try to call or track me through it the second he noticed I was gone. “Now!” he yelled at me when I didn’t move. I nodded vigorously, grabbing my phone from my pocket. I rolled the window down and threw my phone out a ways to make sure the car wouldn’t crush it. “Start driving.”

“Where?” I asked calmly.

“Blue Ridge Parkway.”

I screwed my eyes shut. That wasn’t good news for me. Matloff clearly had his memories back— if he even lost them in the first place. He obviously had his urge for murder back, at least, which meant that taking me to Blue Ridge Parkway was going to be his end game. Kill the fed, and he won. Even if he got caught, killing a cop— especially a fed— was the most impressive and respectable thing anyone could do when it came to prison rep. Matloff would be a saint on the inside. Great.

No one noticed us pull out of the parking lot. No one stopped us on our way out there, either. I thought that Hotch would have had the whole city on lock down, every street blocked off, and Blue Ridge Parkway under surveillance. Yet, no one was out there. Matloff opened the glove compartment as we pulled up to the trail, and he grabbed the extra pair of handcuffs that Hotch and I kept in there. He told me to put them on, which was probably just to make sure that I wouldn’t try anything still. He most likely knew who I was considering all the time I spent in the courtroom with him, and how clingy I was with Hotch. If he wanted to make sure I wouldn’t try to stop him, restraining me was the best way to do that. He had thought this through.

“You have your memories back, don’t you?” I asked as we got out of the car. I figured I could at least know the truth before he’d inevitably shoot me. “Or did you have them this whole time?”

Matloff was calm as we started walking down the path together. He didn’t walk ahead of me or behind me, just at my side a few feet away. Both of the guns he now had weren’t pointed at me, either. The one he stole from me was tucked in the back of his waistband, the one he stole from the guard swinging at his side as we walked. He probably knew that I wouldn’t try to run considering it would be foolish to run away from a serial killer with a gun. However, what he failed to realize was that I wasn’t going to run because I noticed something else. Matloff had always been off to me. Always. Since meeting him, I knew that something was wrong. But, now, as we were walking down the path where he preyed on his other victims, it seemed like his focus wasn’t on me. He was intent on getting somewhere. Even if he was going to kill me, that was going to follow whatever he wanted to find or do. I wasn’t going to run because I was curious. I wanted to know what the hell was so important to escape jail, kidnap a fed, and return to his crime scenes for.

“My memories,” he started explaining quietly, “started coming back last night. They’re in bits and pieces, and they come in hot flashes… I see what I did— who I was, and I hate it.”

“Then why do this?”

Matloff looked over at me. “Because I have to know the truth.”

“About how you strangled those three women?”

Matloff didn’t respond to my question. All he said was, “I’m sorry for scaring you and doing all of this.” I cocked a brow. “I just couldn’t let you stop me.”

“Stop you from coming out here? Why? Where are we going, Matloff?”

“Linville Falls,” Matloff said, looking up at the running waterfall we just approached. We came to a slow and steady halt as we both admired it for a moment. It was so beautiful and peaceful out there. I finally understood why he liked it so much, but it still didn’t answer why we were there. Before I could ask again, though, Matloff said, “You can go now, if you want. I won’t stop you. I promise.” He moved the gun he was holding in his hand to his waistband. I watched as he stepped off the path and started trudging through the mud and tall grass to get to something in the distance. “Go on,” he insisted, sensing that I was still watching him.

I didn’t move, though. I knew I should’ve made a run for it, or at least tried to disarm him, but I didn’t. He hadn’t told me why we were out there yet, and I didn’t know what he was looking for out in the field under the waterfall. But my interest was piqued when he got down on his knees and started digging through the dirt with his hands like a mad man.

I stepped into the tall grass, making my way over to him cautiously. He was still a threat, though he had proven that he had no interest in killing me. If I disturbed whatever he was doing, he still could’ve shot me or punched me or something. I knew that I had to be careful and maintain a safe distance.

And then we both froze when his hands hit something in the ground. I stumbled back a slight step when I saw a corpse emerging as he kept digging. Hotch suspected that there had been more victims, but he could never prove it… Yet there we were. Matloff was digging up a dead body and I was just watching like an idiot.

“Who… Who is that?” I asked.

Matloff sniffled as he pulled it out of the grave. “The first woman I ever killed.” He looked up at me with red eyes. He was crying. “I told you I had to know the truth… I wasn’t sure if I really killed those women until we got here, and it suddenly all came back to me.” He sat down on his tailbone and cradled the corpse. “This isn’t who I am anymore… I just had to make sure that you wouldn’t tell anyone before I could come out here to make sure it was real. I wasn’t convinced until just then when my fingers hit her skull.” He let out a sob. “I’m so sorry.”

“Matloff,” I crouched down, “are there other bodies out here?”

He shook his head. “It was just her.”

“Y/N!” Hotch called from the tree line.

I glanced over my shoulder to see him and Reid approaching with a SWAT team hot on their heels. “Wait!” I raised my cuffed hands in the air, waving them around to signal for them to stop. “It’s fine!” I yelled after noticing that they were all aiming their weapons at Matloff. “Don’t shoot!” Reid and Hotch slowed down, gesturing for the SWAT team to hold back. “He’s not a threat!”

With Hotch’s weapon still raised at Matloff, he carefully approached. “Brian Matloff, put your hands where I can see them.”

“Hotch—” I tried to protest, but Reid grabbed my shoulders and pulled me out of the way.

“Hands, Brian!”

“Stop there, please!” Matloff yelled back. “Just give me a minute… please…”

“I can’t do that, Brian.”

“Who is she?” Reid asked me quietly.

I glanced at him quickly before looking back at Matloff and Hotch. “She was his first.”

Hotch heard me, his shoulders falling slightly before he remembered to keep his steady stance. “Just put her down, Brian. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

“I’m sorry,” Matloff cried quietly. “I’m so sorry…”

“Maybe you are, but you still have to pay for what’s been done.”

Matloff scoffed as he pulled one of the guns from his waistband. “I might as well just die right here… They’re going to put me on death row, anyhow. What’s the point?”

“You don’t know that,” I said, stepping forward again, despite Reid and Hotch’s protests. I stumbled through the grass, praying that I wouldn’t trip while my hands were still cuffed because I wouldn’t be able to save my fall. “The jury might not put you on death row. They might see your new slate— your innocence.” I carefully kneeled beside him, ignoring the corpse in his arms and the way he was waving the gun around aimlessly. “Matloff, look at me.” He did so. “You can still prove that you’re a good man. You could have killed me out here, but you didn’t. You’re clearly sorry for the things you did in the past. Show that in court. Prove your newfound innocence.”

“I’m— I’m scared,” he admitted to me in a hushed tone that only I could hear. I nodded understandingly, but my eyes were still pleading for him to do the right thing. This wasn’t the answer. This wasn’t the way out. “Okay…” he mumbled, dropping the gun.

Hotch carefully approached again, his aim still trained on Matloff. As Reid came over to grab the gun on the ground and the one in the back of Matloff’s waistband, Hotch grabbed his cuffs. “Put the body down, Brian,” Hotch ordered. Matloff did as he was told, gently resting the corpse on the grass before standing up so that Hotch could arrest him. “Do you have any more weapons on you?”

Matloff shook his head. “No.”

Hotch slapped his handcuffs on Matloff’s wrists, then passed him off to the SWAT team to be transported back to the jail in town. Reid came over to us as Hotch started getting my handcuffs off with the key from the car. He must’ve seen that Matloff stole them from the glovebox and made the smart decision to bring the key.

The second the handcuffs were off, Hotch threw his arms around me. His hug caught me off guard, making me stumble in his hold before I could hug him back. I didn’t expect that while we were still on the job, around our friends, on a crime scene, and in front of an Unsub that Hotch would pull me in for a desperate hug like that, I didn’t protest. I held him back, closing my eyes as I inhaled his scent. He smelled like his Aqua Velva aftershave, which was so different from the forest and waterfall scents nearby. Honestly, he smelled like home. I needed home after the day I had.

“You okay?” he asked me quietly before kissing the top of my head.

I nodded against his chest. “I’m fine.”

“I shouldn’t have let you go on your own.”

“We didn’t know.”

“Still.”

“It’s fine, Hotch. I’m fine. He wasn’t going to hurt me.”

Hotch squeezed my shoulders. “I love you.”

I nuzzled against him. “I love you, too.”

[iz-a-simp]

I WAITED (Todoroki Shoto)

This is my first ever fan fiction posted in here. I hope you all enjoy it :) 

You could feel the right side of the bed losing its weight causing your eyes to flutter open from the sudden emptiness you feel only to see the radiating light being blocked by the thick curtain you have in your beloved room. The red and white curtain, first ever décor that has been bought for the room because you thought it would match the looks of your lovely husband, Todoroki Shoto. A soft smile was carved in your face knowing that those faint footsteps belonged to the man you tied your life with.

I’ll Wait…

“Good morning, Shoto” you greeted. “Good morning to you too, Y/N.”  Despite the hollowness his voice hold, your beam never failed to leave your lips. His very presence in the mornings was your daily dose of vitamins, it’s what keeps you alive and positive about this relationship.

“What would you want for breakfast?” it took him long to say it but in the back of your mind you already knew what it was “Cold soba” you both say at the same time. His giggle always has this big impact on you making you madly blush. He was never the one to show his emotions after all.

You crawled out of your bed. Stretching every inch of your stiff body as you make your way to the kitchen to prepare your husband’s meal while he refresh himself with a bath. It didn’t took long making his favorite food just the right time to be served as he finished dressing himself up.

“Where you off to today?” Seeing that your wearing your hero costume?” you asked setting down the bowl in your hand “My father’s company, he mentioned something like a villain attack near their location so I was called. You?” he answered.

“I see.  Classes at U.A. are suspended so I’m thinking of doing a patrol this afternoon. Are you coming home for dinner? ” You eyed him anticipating for his answer “I’m sorry, I may not be able to come home for dinner” and with that he left leaving only his empty bowl.

Empty…Alone

It was one of the hundred times he did this and you still weren’t getting used to it. He left you at the dining table without even a single good bye, a kiss, a hug, nothing. It’s not like your expecting one anyways, but still it wouldn’t be wrong to desire his attention right?

I’ll wait…

You let this pass by again, setting those unsettling thoughts and emotions aside. You didn’t want to ruin the “special” day ahead of you, supposedly.

“Special”? Was it really a thing for this marriage?

5 years, for this 5 damn years you’ve endured everything, you try your best to understand him, you were so considerate. You never nag, you always flash him the warmest smile you could give, you cook him the best meal, you never let him do the chores because he’s tired, you shower him with attention. You poured out everything just to be the best wife but even a single affection he couldn’t give.

I’ll wait…

----FLASHBACK---

Your back was facing him, sitting at the end of your shared bed.

“Don’t you think we should end this Shoto?” You could hear your poor heart tearing with every word that came out of your mouth. You tried to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

“Y/N please don’t decide on things that quickly” he objected grabbing me by the shoulder.

“That’s why I’m asking you. Should we end this marriage we were forced into?” his head hanged low.

Silence.

You gently brushed off his grasp on your shoulder and weakly stood up but a sudden force pulled you down and you found yourself wrapped in his warmth.

“Give me time. Please, don’t leave me...”

“Please wait for me…”

The tears you were holding back one by one trickled on your cheeks. Your cries filled the noiseless space.

You were mad at yourself for being swayed.

You were crazy for falling in love with him, but you didn’t care.

You hated how easy you have become for him, how easy it is for him to shatter the walls you have worked hard to build between you two.

You hated how willing you were to waste a hundred years for him.

You couldn’t shut him down. You couldn’t.

Your heart was yearning for him. You were thrilled to receive more than just a hug from him.

That’s why when he pleaded, you complied.

----PRESENT TIME----

Hours, minutes, seconds passed. In your palm laid the velvet box that has the jewellery you found perfect for him. A gift for your 5th anniversary.

You started to feel the burning sensation in your back for sitting so long. The smoke floating on top of the food you’ve made vanished. The candles that gave life to the atmosphere melted staining the silky white table cloth with its red hue. The speaker that blasted romantic songs hushed leaving you with the ticking sounds of the grandfather clock you owned.

You spammed him with messages, it was already past 11. You put your phone down releasing a heavy sigh. You tapped a contact on your phone.

*RING* *RING* *RING*

“Hello my daughter? What makes you call at this hour?” his voice always makes you tremble. “Endeav-  Ohhh I mean father I was just wondering if Shoto’s okay, he hasn’t replied to any of my messages yet and I’m just worried” you answered.

“Shoto? He excused himself this afternoon, so I let him be, he may be preparing something for your anniversary.” He said teasingly but still I could feel his stoic self. “Happy anniversary to the both of you!”

“Ohh Thank you father. I think I shall end this call now” sadness was evident in your voice as you pressed the red button. There was silence once again.

“Endeavor greeted me before his son did. Endeavor remembered what day is today yet his son, forget it.” You whispered to the air.

I’ll wait…

*ding*

Just as you opened the notification the door also opened revealing your husband still in his hero suit. You turned it off, you made the sweetest smile you could possibly do. But...

The surprised look on his face hurt you. Reality slapped you real hard that you didn’t notice the tears flowing down.

“Silly me to think you’ll remember” I said chuckling.

“Y/N-“he moved closer.

“No, no, please” you backed away a step or few. It was the first time to see you not wanting his touch, his kiss, his warmth. Most especially, you didn’t want his sorry. You were tired of that word leaving from his lips over and over again.

“Y/N please let me explain-“

“I said NO! I don’t need you sorry nor your explanation. You know what I need? For this stupid marriage to end!”  His eyes went wide not for the fact that you didn’t let him explain it was because this was the first you had raised your voice at him.

“I’m tired Shoto! I’m tired of loving you, of understanding you, of pretending to be okay even if I’m not! Just how many sorry should I receive? Just how many explanations do I have to listen to?  Answer me honestly; is there something left for me to wait on? Cause I lost too much. My freedom, my happiness, my days that could be meaningful, my time. I lost too much love that I could not give one to myself. I gave them all to you! I gave them all and yet here I am still waiting, still begging for the love of a husband for his perfect wife! I don’t think I could do this anymore. I’m sorry but I waited too much. Let’s just put an end to this” your eyes was on the ground, you could not face him it will just widen the wound you were carrying.

You watched as the ring on your finger slowly slipped off.

*thud*

How long has it been since you find yourself engulfed in his arms? How long has it been since you tasted those soft lips?

5 years? 2 years?

Here he was giving you hopes, making you think that he cares, that his trying when he’s really not.

“I love you Y/N”

Stupid! You’re just lonely, you just pity me because after all it was your father who pushed me to fall in this situation, you thought. You have no family to go back to and he knew that. That’s why you were certain on why he was holding on to you.

There was only one in the world and it was him. You needed him and you keep pushing yourself to him but he was getting farther and farther away from you.

You wanted to hug him back, to stay by his side, to hold his hand, to continue loving him, to build a future with him. But you were tired.

You released yourself from him and looked into his eyes for the last time. You sneaked in the velvet box and your phone in his hands.

As he opened it, it showed the necklace you ought to give him and the ring that bounds you two together and sees a picture of him with an unfamiliar lass.

*Smile*

“No you don’t Shoto.”

It was your turn to leave him there. You were truly sorry, you were but you have finally gotten out of the endless pit.

“Please don’t forget that I waited.”

[fizzingwizard]

Frantically playing catch up because I’m gone the rest of the weekend so here’s day 6 after all! Blatantly Takari. This one surprised me by how easy it was to write so it got a bit longer than the others. I’m sure there are many typos, please overlook. Also has two quotes, one in the text and one at the end, from my long-time favorite poet, Walt Whitman. BTW, I don’t really get everything that went down with Ordinemon, but I did my best to fit canon.

One month post-Bokura no Mirai, Takeru and Hikari go on a date and Hikari encounters something unexpected, which leads to a very overdue conversation with her brother.

Warning - there’s mention of the death of sick baby. It’s not huge but it matters to the story. I don’t want to shock anyone.

---

Tri week day 6 - Journeys - Death of a Comet

"How are you?" Takeru asked, watching her carefully.

Hikari only smiled and pretended not to notice. "I thought we'd known each other long enough to skip the niceties, Takeru-kun," she quipped. It was a far cry from her old playfulness, she knew, but she also knew he wasn't going to call her out for it it just yet.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Takeru rolled his eyes with an exaggerated, put-upon sigh. "I didn't realize relationship length was proportionate to amount of shits given."

"It is, at least when the last time we talked was an hour ago over text."

"Duly noted."

"Let's go?"

He nodded. He was wearing another hat she'd never seen before, a dark blue beret that looked about to tip off the side of his head with a light breeze. She wondered if he went out and bought a new hat each time before they went out together. Like how a girl shouldn't be caught in the same outfit twice. He probably did. That was Takashi Takeru, vain as fuck. But there was also something kind of adorable about it.

They'd "officially" been dating for a couple weeks, and Hikari wasn't sure yet how she felt about it. Of course, she'd agreed to it when he asked her. What else could she do? They'd been flirting and toying with each other off and on for years, in a childish way, but she couldn't pretend she didn't know full well what she was doing. She'd even sometimes daydreamed about what dating him would be like. Mostly she imagined it would be a lot of sitting in the bleachers at his basketball games.

She didn't consider Takeru the most mature of the boys in their year, but he wasn't as bad as some. Plus, they'd been through a lot together, so she knew what he was made of. And he really liked her. And she liked him. It seemed unavoidable. She'd said yes because she had no good reason for saying no.

It still felt a bit weird when he reached to hold her hand. Two weeks in, and they had yet to kiss. For the most part, it felt like nothing much had changed between them, except that Takeru no longer tried to hide his excitement when she was near. That was... flattering. And she had no qualms with taking it slow either.

They got on the Yurikamome train and stood together by a window, watching the Odaiba waterfront speed by as they traveled over the Rainbow Bridge. The sky was blue and cloudless. It was the kind of weather Tailmon loved, but Hikari had already talked to her about why she sometimes couldn't come along when she and Takeru went on an "outing." Tailmon had blinked lazily and said that was alright, and given her claws a long, purposeful lick. ”But if he ever hurts you, don't you dare hide it from me.”

Hikari promised, but thought the reverse scenario was far more likely.

Takeru had a more difficult time explaining it to Patamon, she'd heard. Supposedly, after Takeru had given his spiel about how growing up meant needing more time to oneself, Patamon had blurted out, "Are you going to kiss Hikari!? You've got to kiss her, Takeru!" loudly enough that some boys at school had overheard, and as a result everyone knew that they were an item before they'd even been out on a single date.

Such was life with Digimon.

"You know where it is, right?" Hikari asked as they got off the train.

"Yeah, I've come here with my mom for other exhibits," Takeru said, leading her out the exit and onto a busy street. "Mom's really into modern art. We've gone to see Kusama Yayoi's sculptures on Naoshima like four times. I'm pretty sure she goes whenever she breaks up with a boyfriend."

Hikari laughed. "Wait, really?"

"Well, she never introduces them to me, but I can tell when she's seeing someone. She touches up her roots more often."

The art exhibit they were going to see was some sort of interactive light show. Hikari had seen pictures online and thought it looked beautiful. Her father was of the opinion that they only ever put the best pictures on the website, and the rest of the exhibit was probably in some big, white-walled room that smelled like someone had microwaved fish for lunch. Her mom had been more enthusiastic, and added that, if the art did turn out to be a dud, it was as good an excuse as any to sneak off somewhere quiet with her Romeo and, you know, romance him.

Hikari was definitely not going to do that.

She'd timed things with care. Taichi had morning soccer practice until ten. After that he'd come home for lunch. The exhibit opened at eleven, but her concerns about there being a line fell on deaf ears, since Takeru claimed he knew this museum and it was never crowded. (Which didn't do much to mitigate her concerns about the exhibit being any good.) So the earliest she could convince him to catch the train was ten fifteen. So if she left right at ten and headed directly to the station, she ought to be able to miss her brother coming home completely.

It felt like fate was laughing in her face when she ran into him on her way out.

Her shock was mirrored on his face as they both stood in the doorway, staring at each other as if unable to understand why their biological sibling would be there, in their childhood home.

Taichi spoke first, if speech it could be called. "Uh," he said.

"Oniichan," she stammered back, "why - how - you got home fast."

"Yeah... Yamato was having band practice and he gave me a ride on the scooter," Taichi replied.

Hikari kept her mouth shut. Had Yamato orchestrated this? Was Takeru in on it? She knew it wasn't likely in either case, but her hackles were raised. "Oh," she said.

They continued to stand in the doorway. This was, Hikari reflected, the longest conversation they'd managed to keep going in almost a month.

"You... going somewhere?" Taichi asked after a while, tilting his head and looking up and down.

"Museum. With Takeru-kun."

"Oh. Well, have fun."

"Thanks."

As if suddenly realizing he was blocking the exit, Taichi stepped to the side, and Hikari barely restrained herself from running down the hall. The damage was done, though. The minute the elevator door closed, the tears started leaking down her face. Dammit. She'd been so careful.

She'd had to stop off at a nearby convenience store to hide in the restroom. She splashed her face and dabbed her eyes with her hand towel until they were less red, until the evidence of the havoc wreaked just by seeing her brother was hidden under a fresh layer of make-up. She never even wore make-up much before - after all, she was fourteen and blessed with good skin. Dating Takeru had been a convenient excuse to explain to her mom why she suddenly needed extra allowance for concealer, despite having no acne.

She wound up ten minutes late meeting Takeru and still, he could tell right away that something was wrong. She'd managed to deflect, but...

Hikari had never been any good at lying, even to herself. But she was surprised by her own cruelty, dating Takeru because she needed the distraction, an excuse to be anywhere but home. His feelings for her were genuine. She was a monster.

"Hikari-chan?" Takeru gave her a nudge that jolted her into the present. There was, indeed, no line to get in at the art show, and Takeru was trying to hand her a ticket. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

She nodded resolutely. "Yeah, of course."

"It's just, you're being kind of quiet."

"Well, sorry but I'm not a professional entertainer."

He didn't reply to that barb. Hikari felt even more miserable. If only Yamato's stupid motor scooter had broken down on the road...

They handed in their tickets and went through a pair of double doors, into a wide room lit by myriad streamers of blue and purple lights wafting on the air like strange, hypnotic jellyfish. No pictures were allowed, so Hikari kept her camera stowed, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Any pictures she tried to take while in such a stormy mood were bound to end up in the trash bin anyway.

They followed the path laid out through fiber-optic tallgrass in silence. Takeru was still gripping her hand, even though her own hung like a dead fish. The next section was a blacklight room with an even more obvious sci-fi vibe, bright cables painted brilliant colors in the impression of sea snakes creating circuitous archs on the walls and ceiling. The heat-sensor flooring lit under their feet as they walked.

Takeru leaned towards her, the blacklight setting his white T-shirt aglow. "This is like some disco-era alien planet," he joked, offering her the olive branch.

Well, she owed it to him not to let this date be a total disaster. "The room before reminded me of the tree in Avatar," she said.

"I bet the next one's gonna be something from Fifth Element."

"No way."

"Could be."

"Completely different aesthetic."

"It's gonna be that giant McDonald's sign made of stained glass. Wait and see."

It wasn't, of course. Takeru continued to insist they'd see the sign in the next room, and the next, until they reached the end of the exhibit, where he finally admitted defeat. At least room four had clearly been lifted from Finding Nemo, he said.

The final room was, in fact, an open space with white walls, but Hikari didn't notice any stomach-turning smells. A combination of 2- and 3D works of art were mounted around the room, and they took their time browsing, continuing to try to outwit each other with their increasingly outlandish, and even somewhat insulting, art critiques. It was a lovely show, Hikari thought. If she'd come to see it in a better frame of mind, she would be raving just now. But though she'd recovered her ability to match Takeru quip for quip, she still felt heavy with gloom. Geez, why did he want to date a rain cloud like her?

"Want to go for lunch?" Takeru asked as they took in the last piece of art, an abstract mosaic made of vibrant, blinking lights laid into a glass frame on a large tabletop. Hikari circled it slowly, watching lights ripple across the frame, stitching the full picture together bit by bit.

"Sure."

"There's a cafe my mom and I go to nearby. It does amazing pancakes."

"Sounds good," she said vaguely, her brow creasing in thought. She took a step back, gazing at the table from what she'd discovered was meant to be the foot, where you could see the picture in full if you craned your neck just so.

It wasn't abstract art. It was Ordinemon.

Her whole body stiffened.

"The orange marmalade pancakes are my favorite - you listening?" With a confused look, Takeru glanced from her unchanging expression to the table. His eyes went wide. "... Let's leave, Hikari-chan."

He gave her arm a tug. She didn't budge.

"Hikari-chan, there's no need to stay here. Come on."

"Why," she said. It came out in a harsh whisper, like a frozen wind. "Why would someone make art of... that."

Takeru didn't answer for a minute. "Because... they saw it," he said after a while. His grip on her arm tightened, as if expecting her to try to break away. "So they want to express what they saw."

"It's an abomination," she choked out. Humiliating tears welled up in her eyes.

Takeru seemed to hesitate. Then he stepped back, and his arms circled round her shoulders, locking her in a tight hug from behind. The warmth of his body flowed into her ice cold one, solid, real. Her mind flashed to another day, with a roiling sky black as night, when she'd come to in an unfamiliar bed with Takeru at her side and known, with a rush of deadly certainty, that she'd destroyed everything she ever cared about.

Her brother. Her beloved partner. Her friends.

By her own will.

She didn't know what she'd done. Or how. That almost made it worse, the not knowing. Her heart broke, watching her brother disappear in the earthquake. That was all. Her heart broke and she... stopped. And when she started again -

It was too late.

Tailmon had told her she didn't regret the fusion with Meicrackmon, that she'd been able to hold poor Meicoomon together, just a little longer. There was nothing for Hikari to regret, she said. Powers beyond her control. Yggrasil and Homeostasis felt they could wage their little war and pick their champions, and dispose of them when they felt like it. No sooner had she shaken off Homeostasis's hold over her that Ordinemon happened.

Hikari hated that once upon a time, she'd believed Homeostasis was a benevolent presence. That she'd willingly let her into her mind.

Now she didn't know what to believe.

Rage flared, hot as ice. Her whole world, none of it made sense anymore. She was adrift, she was unmoored, there was no safe harbor, not even in the brother who she loved like no one else. He could make a choice like that, to kill Meicoomon, to kill their friend's irreplaceable partner. The one person who deserved the most to be saved. And she'd helped, because that was what you did, on a team, at least, if you couldn't come up with a better plan yourself.

She realized she was shaking. Takeru only held her tighter, his nose buried in the crook of her neck.

"Hikari-chan," he said, and he sounded - terrified. "What if - what if it's not, though. What if it's not an abomination. What if..."

"How can you say that," she hissed frostily.

"I mean - I'm not saying it was good. I'm not saying I don't wish none of this had happened. But - I think - Ordinemon, she was created from despair, yours and Meicoomon's. She was used, and it tortured her. We freed her from that. She would have destroyed everything, even though it's not what she wanted, and she was in so much pain -"

"Stop!" Hikari yelled, pushing away from him. There was enough strength behind her need to get away and he was not expecting it, so he toppled to the floor while she raced out the exit. She kept running, hardly aware of dodging people on the sidewalk, and ran until she found herself in a small park with nothing but a two-seater swing set and metal slide. She sank into one of the swings and dropped her head in her arms. And cried.

Cried for Meiko, for Meicoomon. Cried for the future they would never have.

Cried for her brother, who had changed, and she understood why, but she still missed the way he used to be. Her guiding star.

Cried for herself, a lost comet streaking through an unfamiliar galaxy, wondering if she would vaporize shooting too close to an alien sun, or if she'd putter out slowly until she was nothing but lifeless, crumbling stone.

Her phone buzzed in her purse - Takeru, surely, trying to find her. On top of everything else, she'd ditched the boy she was stringing along, who cared about her, and who had tried so hard to let her know she wasn't alone. She didn't deserve Takeru. She would break up with him - she had to. He should be with someone stronger than her, who wasn't going to fall apart at the seams just from a silly piece of art at a museum gallery.

After a while the sobs let up enough that she could see without tears clouding her vision, and she figured she should at least let him know she was okay. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her messages.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to upset you.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: where did you go? someone said you ran past the 7-11 but I have no idea where you went from there

12:37: Takaishi Takeru: please tell me where you are. If you don't want me to come, I won't. I can call someone if you want.

12:38: Takaishi Takeru: I just want to know you're okay

12:40: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan PLEASE respond

12:45: Takaishi Takeru: I asked at the 7-11 but they said they didn't see you. am walking around aimlessly now. no idea where to look.

12:48: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan if you don't reply soon I'm gonna have to call Taichi-san

12:52: Takaishi Takeru: wound up back at the train station, if you want to meet me here.

12:55: Takaishi Takeru: if you don't respond in five minutes I'm calling Taichi-san, I mean it.

12:58: Takaishi Takeru: I love you, by the way. think I always have. thought you might want to know

Fresh tears pricked her eyes. Leave it to Takeru. How could he pick now to spring that on her?

She should be happy. She wanted to be happy.

13:02: Me: I'm okay. I'm sorry. Go home. I'll talk to you soon.

Her finger hovered uncertainly over the keypad. She typed:

The real abomination is me.

Then she deleted it, and pressed Send.

---

Little though she wanted to go home, Hikari didn't have an excuse for staying out past dinner. She stayed in the little park until it started to get chilly. A couple times, the occasional grandma stopped to ask if she was alright, but she smiled and waved away their concerns. Finally, when twilight fell over the park in a gossamer curtain, she stood and stretched out the kinks in her back before heading back to the station. It felt like she'd been out much longer than a few hours. She thought briefly of asking a friend if she could spend the night, but didn't like the idea of needing to pretend to be peppy and cheerful.

On the ride back, she did a search on the artist who'd made the Ordinemon mosaic. Why, she had no idea. Some self-hating side that wanted her to hurt, she guessed.

The artist's name was Matsuyama Risa, a Tokyo-based sculptor, whose partnership with Fujii Fiber-optics had given birth to the displays they'd seen today. Hikari let her eyes skim the article, categorically uninterested in the number of lights used or how they were installed. What she wanted to know appeared like magic, tacked on at the very end of the article.

Art of Nippon Now: The last room in the showcase features a magical light-up mosaic of a subject that could be disconcerting for some viewers. What led you to recreate the monster that much of Tokyo watched terrorize the sky last month?

Matsuyama: I put that piece together in a feverish rush. Most of these installations took weeks to install, but I insisted on this one, even though it was such short notice. I had to have it. I heard that many people never saw more of her than her massive wings, but I happened to have a very clear view at the time. It made a huge impression on me.

ANN: You said her?

Matsuyama: It was a she. Or, perhaps it's better to say she might not have a gender,  but she deserves better than the pronouns we use for inanimate objects, things without personality.

ANN: Are you saying this monster was a person?

Matsuyama: I don't know if you heard her cries, but they were deafening. They reminded me of how my son wailed in the night when he was first born. We didn't know why he was so colicky. Nothing we did calmed him. I was so afraid that he wasn't getting enough sleep. It turned out he was very sick and we just didn't know. The illness was hidden. We spent many nights in the ICU, holding out hope that he would be alright. I remember thinking, if he wasn't, it would destroy our marriage.

ANN: That sounds like a terrible experience.

Matsuyama: When our son died, it was terrible, but it also came as a relief. At least we knew he was no longer suffering. I was depressed for months. I couldn't make any art. Every day I expected my husband to leave me. The first day I pulled myself together enough to sketch something, he said I should sketch our son sometime.

ANN: So your husband didn't leave?

Matsuyama: No. He stayed by my side. When I cried that he deserved a woman who could make him happy, who would give him healthy babies, he told me I was the strongest woman he knew, and that I'd given him the best son in the world.

ANN: Wow - would that we all meet men like that.

Matsuyama: And women. That's why, although the creature that appeared over Tokyo was very frightening to look at, when I heard her cries all I heard was suffering. I thought, that is a real creature, who wants her pain to be understood. She represents something. Perhaps she was sent to show us the harm we do when we choose not to act to help others. She shouldn't be forgotten.

ANN: So you memorialized her in this mosaic?

Matsuyama: Yes. It was the right moment, even though I had no time. I wanted to recreate her likeness using lights. I set her into a table, because I felt that putting her on a wall would be too imposing, and viewers would only remember the fear she engendered. Lying down, it would seem as if she were in a coffin, finally laid to rest. But she's lit from within, and it's the light of life, desperately clinging on till the final moment, the same as any being with a soul.

ANN: Did you ever complete the sketch of your late son?

Matsuyama: No. I never did. But I think I will soon. I want to lay him to rest in my heart.

ANN: It's interesting that when you say 'lay to rest,' you seem to mean we should remember them.

Matsuyama: Our memories make us who we are. The past is always with us. My son, that creature, they are both part of my journey, as an artist of course, but also as a person in the world. You could say my son is the light of the world and that creature is the darkness, but I hold both light and dark in me, just by existing and being human.

ANN: You added a quote to the piece that said something of that nature.

Matsuyama: Yes, from a Walt Whitman poem, 'Song of Myself.' The quote reads: "I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also."

ANN: Maybe Whitman never expected his poem to be used in this way.

Matsuyama: That's the nature of art. It is a journey in and of itself. It fluctuates and changes to nourish the times. I hope everyone who sees my art understands that they are on a journey as well, and everything they do creates the work of art called "the future."

ANN: Thank you for your time, Matsuyama-sensei.

---

Her brother was home, but her parents were not. The arrangement of shoes in the entryway said as much. Taichi was seated at the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of noodles and reading something. He looked up when the door opened and pushed his seat back.

"Hikari - you okay?" He peered at her, concerned. "Takeru didn't do something stupid, did he?"

So Takeru hadn't told her brother that she'd run off. Gratitude flooded through her. "No, of course not."

"Good." Taichi's hand rifled through his hair, the other planted on his hip, and he looked perplexed. "Then why do you look like you've been crying all day?"

Hikari walked inside and sank down on the couch. "Because I have been crying all day."

She could feel his hesitance as he wavered in the hall, trying to decide if he should press her for more. If that was still something he was allowed to do. She knew he would try. He wouldn't be Taichi if he didn't.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked, moving to sit on the arm of the couch, but he didn't relax, as if expecting her to tell him to leave her alone.

"No," she replied.

He nodded. "Okay." There was a pause. "You're sure Takeru didn't -"

"No, Oniichan."

"Okay, okay."

She sat there for a few minutes, staring blankly at the black TV screen. Soon Taichi slid off the arm into the seat beside her, allowing several inches of space between them. He didn't try to talk anymore. Didn't even get up to bring his bowl of noodles over, even though it was going to get cold.

Hikari tilted her head ever so slightly to peer at him. Dark circles ringed his eyes. She knew he hadn't been sleeping well. Something about his face looked more defined, less roundness to his jaw, starker cheekbones. Hadn't been eating much either, she guessed. It gave him an oddly grown up look. She would have to call him on losing weight from not taking care of himself, but that could wait for later. She was struck by how little he looked like their father. Everyone always said Hikari was the spitting image of her mom, so it seemed natural that Taichi should take after their dad, but though she searched she couldn't find many similarities. Taichi was just Taichi.

He gave a start when she leaned toward him and settled her head on his shoulder, but didn't say anything.

Hikari thought about many things.

How unbearable it was to feel helpless. How much she wanted everyone who cared about each other to be together, and for no one to suffer who didn't deserve it.  How deeply she loved her friends. How easy it was fall apart.

Maybe all that meant was her worldview had been too delicate to begin with. A painting on a porcelain vase wouldn't stand the test of time unless handled with the best of care. The real world was too chaotic, too disordered. She could wrap her dream in newspaper, cover it in packing peanuts, tape it into a box marked "Fragile," and it would still end up in shards. She would try to put it together again, but the pieces were sharp, and she kept cutting herself on them.

She still wanted it. So, so much.

"You stay that way. You can hate me if you want," her brother had told her. Trying to put everything on his own shoulders, as usual.

"I will probably never forgive you," she'd said, and wouldn't let him. "But that's why I'll fight with you."

"Oniichan," She slipped off his shoulder, buried her face in his chest. She didn't know how she could still have more tears, but they darkened her brother's shirt as her hands hugged him tight. "I'll always fight with you."

Surprised, he didn't move for a moment, but then his arms wrapped around her the same way they always had, ever since she was small. His grip was sure, but not out of naivety. Yes, he'd lost his innocence. It wasn't coming back. But what grew in his place, she realized, was his choice. And she got the feeling he'd already decided.

"That's good to know," he murmured softly, lashes brushing her cheek, and she thought they might be wet as well. "Because I'm never going to stop fighting for you."

They held each other for a long time.

---

The next day, Hikari showed up at Takeru's door with flowers and a box of chocolates. He made a funny face, looking her over.

"Flowers and chocolates? Shouldn't this be reversed?"

"Didn't know you were such a traditionalist," she joked. "But I'll eat these myself if they hurt your manly pride."

A hesitant grin spread over his face. "To hell with convention. Those are my chocolates, keep your paws off them."

It was silly, and cliche, but this was her life. She could be as silly and cliche as she wanted. She pulled his shoulders down and kissed him. It was light and quick, but he still looked flustered when they parted.

"My mom's home," he said with an unmistakable note of regret.

Hikari only nodded. "Figured. Video games and chocolates?"

The grin unfurled for real. "Yeah, that would be great."

Nothing had ended. She hadn't gotten over anything. But she felt, for the first time, that now she could accept it. It was a piece of who she was, and it would be a piece of who she became. But just who that person would be, she intended to decide for herself. Even if her path got buried under mountains of broken shards of glass, that was just a part of being Yagami Hikari.

"Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes)."

[xxrainstormxx]

Save it for the Doctor. Spencer Reid x Reader.

(A/N: this is based off a writing prompt. "You're... beautiful." "And you're concussed") Word count; 2,475 Part 2 (edit: my pleas for requests for stories are not reaching people so I will beg here. If you want a oneshot I’ll write it. Prompt or no prompt.)

I had heard a lot about the recent murders. I even had seen a few almost survivors on my mom's operation table, yet somehow I was wrapped up in the middle of it. Smack in the middle. No normal citizen even knew the FBI was investigating the murders and yet I was being interrogated. The man who sat in front of me was just mean, he wore a serious look and his eyes never moved from the narrow eyed glare he gave anyone who walked by and especially gave me. I was happy to cooperate, but the minute I was under fire I was fed up and wanted a lawyer. I was no killer, I had no upper body strength to move a dead body and believe me, I would know how much a dead body weighs thanks to my mom training me. I was a tired college student trying to get my damn degree so I could move on with my fucking life. And I was not in the mood to be interrogated when I could be working on my thesis. The mean man, Agent Hotchner I believe was just staring. I guess waiting for me to break or some shit like that? I don't know. I wasn't talking first. I didn't care anymore and this resulted in a match of silently staring waiting for the other one to speak. This went on for what felt like an hour but was probably closer to at least three minutes, I just sighed, "I cave." I sighed muttering curses as I shifted in my seat. "Go on, ask your questions I have a thesis to write and I would like to go home to continue it," I reluctantly urged on. He leaned forward in triumph I think as he demanded answers from me. "Where were you the night of Synthia Robbin's disappearance (Y/N)?" he began dwelling on the poor girls name. It made me frown, she was a 13 year old girl, a child, and she was gone. Kidnapped and found dead. It made me sick to think of what could happen to her. "So that's what this is about?" I hissed disgusted with the accusation "I was at the library with Emmalin." the mention of my sister's name made him further darken. "Your sister, correct?" he inquired. I rolled my eyes, "Yuduh" I sounded sitting back. "All your time is accounted for?" he continued leaving me puzzled for a moment. "There were maybe ten minutes in between where she left to find a book." I murmured unsure if the truth was the right thing to say as he stood and pulled out a file and threw it on the table making me flinch. "What about the night of Chris Bennidict?" he asked "A s-sports game" I stuttered "A baseball game I think. Rockies vs Rangers." I said shaking a little as he threw down that files some of the pictures falling out of the boy, shot twice. "Eunice Quiet, Quiara Basson, Basen Unice, Lynch Gryse, and Philip Jence!" he got  louder with every file he threw at me. "You were near by every single scene and you fit most of our profile" he concluded the pictures that fell out made me physically sick. Children, those poor babies. I sobbed and turned away gagging, he wasn't convinced it was real but I knew it was and up came the vomit that was caught in my throat.

I had no doubt I fit their profile but I worked part time at a daycare. Children were my life line, and it mad me sick to see them hurt. He answered a call and left the room leaving me there to cry over the pictures. A brunette woman walked in and sighed taking me out of the handcuffs attaching me to the bolted down table. "Come on sweetheart. We'll get someone to clean up that." she sighed very tired, I wanted to know why. They brought me out to the main area of the station and sat me down. They slowly cuffed me to the desk and I cried softly. I looked across the station to see Emmalin "Emmy!" I called but was ignored causing me to frown. So I shut up and listen to whatever raving was in my defense, "My baby sib? A murderer?" she asked "well... it isn't that hard to believe," she said making my jaw drop. "They've always been a little too obsessed with the idea of death." A lie, I had an emo phase and so did she, "Introverted" well partially true. "and well she creeps out her friends," she finished causing me to stand suddenly, "Liar!" I shouted "You fucking liar!" I cried ignoring the pain and stress on my wrist the hand cuff was causing. I was now a 45 degree angle due to the cuffs keeping me in place. She seemed genuinely shocked i was there. "Why are you trying to pin this on me. Your own sister!b You were with me everywhere we went and those bodies were found. Why aren't you being questioned too? Did you lie? Did you say I was the only one there?" I screamed as I was sat down. She hissed at me and most of the agents took notice. Agent Prentiss, the nice brunette sighed and walked to my now horrible sister and asked her to follow her into a different interrogation room. It felt like hours that I was sat there, and a curly haired man was sat in front of me just reading, or what I thought was faking, really bad faking. "Why are you even sitting here if you're just going to pretend to read?" I asked the "doctor". My mother was a doctor and I didn't believe this boy was any kind of doctor. I had gotten to know his name as Doctor Reid and I wasn't allowed to call him an agent so I had no other choice. He just looked at me thrown for a moment before shaking his head "I'm not pretending" He stated as he shifted "No one can read that fuckin fast ya damn liar" I muttered not necessarily hostile just a little vexed. "I can. Did you know that our unconscious minds can process sixteen bits of information per second? Our conscious minds, however, can process sixteen million?" I sat back unimpressed "You are... absolutely insane" I laughed "Insane, perhaps but I'm not being accused of murder." he stated, and my smile that i worked so hard to get disappeared "You think I did it too." I muttered, it was meant to come as a question but instead it came as a statement. He shook his head "Not fully, while you do supposedly fit the profile our profile, our unsub wouldn't inject themselves into the investigation. The one part that doesn't fit" he said sitting back and crossing his legs turning to the board filled with evidence, and all those pictures that made me sick sat right next to the happy photos of the children in their school uniforms smiling big. I tried to focus on those "Well maybe your profile is wrong, cause this is sick." I hissed "(Y/N), you're here most likely because you were in the wrong places at the wrong times. Kids being picked up and murdered minutes apart from each other, while you were out with your sister at those locations? It's not very probable."

I just sighed knowing he was probably right "There aren't many coincidences when it comes to murder" he stated "Out of uh... curiosity what is an unsub? No normal person knows that is." I muttered as I tried to avoid the board, the thought of being in those places, not helping those kids, not even having a clue what was happening made me sick. "Unknown Subject" Dr. Reid said mumbling "Why aren't you uh... looking at the board. I thought you'd be proud of your work." He said as if to egg me on. I rolled my eyes "Those pictures make me sick." I muttered "I work at a daycare, it's my job to protect kids not watch them get hurt. I don't wanna see dead fucking children!" I shouted realizing I probably sounded fucking crazy and definitely like a kill. I hung my head in shame. "I know... I know it isn't fair to blame myself for what happened to those kids, but being in the places of the crime, the same night it happened, it makes me feel like I could have and should have done something. Something other than just sit there and wonder." I whispered "Yeah I feel guilty now but, not of what you think" I whispered looking to the board once more focusing on the pictures of the children when they were alive. "Sweet innocent babies... Never done anything to anyone. Probably were crying for their mom." I whimpered at the thought "They didn't deserve any of what happened" I looked away once more thinking about the mothers. "Moms.... Their moms" he stood up as if he had a damn epiphany nearly knocking me backwards in the chair. "Morgan, it's not an attack on the children it's an attack on their mothers." He said starting to put of pictures of older women. "think about it. They all went to the same cafe every day. It wasn't the day care, so it can't be (Y/N). They wouldn't see much of the parents" he enthused writing things down that I could not decipher because his hand writing was absolute shit. "But wouldn't that just give them more reason? They think these women are bad mom's for working instead of taking care of the child, and wants to teach them a lesson?" making him shake his head "That's stupid, if they wanted to make them suffer they'd just kill the women themselves, it'd be much more efficient and wouldn't lead to them doing the one thing they would dread doing!" he said circling one name on the board. Emmalin. "That's also sexist. Women work, children can't go with. Why would I have a fucking problem with that" I shouted across the room. "Who fits the profile while also holding these sexist values." Reid stated more than asked pointing to Emma's name again. "Oh dear god." he sighed "But my sister isn't a murderer!" I cried. "She's connected to the murders... and she's made it clear she doesn't think women should work." Morgan stated and went to the interrogation room. "You are a life saver (Y/N)" Reid said kissing my cheek out of pure joy, and I slapped him as a natural instinct and turned red "Shit! I'm sorry! I'm not used to boys doing that if they aren't being creepy! But at the same time that was really fucking creepy" I yelped as he held his face and laughed "No it's fine. Got too excited to fix what felt like a huge mistake." he said, and when I say I turned red I mean red. This was the first time I'd seen him as a human. Not a super genius, not as an agent, not an asshole. Just a normal guy with pretty eyes, a good jaw line, soft hair, and the sweetest smile I had ever seen. The blush was apparently very clear on my (skin color) skin because he hummed and smiled "Did you know blushing is speculated to be caused by a sudden rush of adrenaline making our blood pump faster." I giggled a little "Is that why you're so flushed?" I asked as he blinked not understanding just how damn pink he was after that rant. "Guess so." he shrugged. the door opened and out came Emmalin and she grabbed a ceramic vase off a desk and slammed it down onto Reid's head and ran away quickly. He fell to the floor because it was a heavy fucking vase, and I freaked out as he hit his head on the desk on the way down.

"Shit!" I yelled as half of them chased my very obviously guilty sister and I sat in shock as two of his friends rushed over to help him. Morgan uncuffed me and I blinked "Spencer?" Agent Jareau asked worried and I sat down next to him sitting him up and grabbing a water bottle slashing it on his face "Do not fall asleep." I said firmly "You could very well have a concussion." I said as an ambulance arrived quickly, he was cearly not feeling good because of the way that he was acting. I was worried about how sick he looked. He threw up half way to the hospital so I was told. I went with because I didn't feel safe with my sister on the run and an Agent in the hospital. Well I guess he wasn't an agent he was a doctor. The doctor, not Spencer, came out and i stood with the other two very worried. "He'll be fine. He has a mild concussion." as i thought "but he's awake, and on some pain medication. I take it you all know the situation and his limitations in the field?" he asked and Morgon and Jareau nodded "You can go back to see him now" he said and stepped aside "come on" Jareau said quietly to me "oh. Agent, I don't think he'd want to see me." I said quietly. "I'm sure he would like to know you came. You won't make a very good profiler if you can't even tell that Reid enjoys your company. And call me JJ, it makes it easier," she said giggling and pulled me right back with her and Morgan. "Hey man" Morgan started "What happened?" he muttered groaning in pain. "You got hit with a vase, took a pretty sweet fall, and got a concussion" JJ hummed arms crossed as she leaned on the wall. "Shit." he muttered making me giggle. "Oh hey!" he said when he saw me. "I want water, and jello" he muttered making small lip smacking sounds. "Morgan and I will get it" JJ laughed leaving me in a very awkward situation. "So umm.." I began before being cut off. "You know.. You're beautiful" he said staring at me causing me to snort "And you're concussed." I laughed shaking my head "Well, a concussion based on the severity doesn't necessarily affect your judgement of a person especially if it's a first time thing. I thought you were beautiful long before I was concussed but you were a suspect. Suspects being beautiful, hard to comprehend sometimes." I laughed "You're a dumbass" I snorted "But I-" he blinked and i walked over pecking his lips. "How about a date sometime? I'll give you my number" I said quietly. "Yeah... okay..." he whispered. "A date."

[heyheydidjaknow]

I’m uploading this Friday at 12:10 am. Or, at least, that’s when I finished writing this. Yes, we’re still on the angst thing. It won’t last forever, but still.

Chapter 9

“How is she?”

Donatello sits down next to his brother on the couch. “Same as yesterday,” he sighs. “Comatose.”

“I still can’t believe it,” Raphael smirks. “That stupid bitch decided to total the fuckin—"

“Raphael,” he promises coolly, “I will personally make it my life’s goal to make sure you can never open your mouth again if you don’t shut up.”

He puts his hands up. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Will you two be quiet for a minute? I’m trying to listen.” Leonardo kneels in front of the television.

There is a new news story.

“They can’t arrest her, can they?” The tallest brother glances at the others.

“Nah.” Michelangelo is sprawled out on his portion of the couch, eyes dully focused on the screen. “They’ll side with her before someone from a street gang, ‘specially with those…” He trails off. “’ Sides,” he clears his throat, “any good public defense lawyer would call it self-defense, and there’s no way the police would convict a teenage girl of any degree of murder with the injuries she has; bad press.”

“Mikey,” Leo asks, “how come you know that and not how to multiply numbers by seven?”

“Because seven is a stupid number that was created just to make us all feel stupid.”

“Leo—”

“He’s right,” Raph agrees. “They won’t put her away for something like that.” He chuckles darkly. “Besides, there’s no more evidence.”

“After what happened with the neurologist?”

“Donnie,” Leo turns to look at him. “She’s going to be fine.”

He opens his mouth to argue, closes it.

” The perpetrator,” the news anchor reads, ” was found this morning after a panicked nine-one-one caller had seen the hand of the assailant hanging over a ledge. The corpse had, presumably, been flung away from the scene of the incident as a consequence of the explosion, miraculously landing on the roof of a nearby restaurant. The body has been identified as Fong Zhao, who was arrested on multiple charges of armed battery earlier this year. The police have refrained from offering Channel Six detailed information, but we have an anonymous source who claims that he and the gang he is supposedly involved in, locally referred to as the Purple Dragons, was also involved in the hijacking of a truck carrying a substance believed to be tear gas. The driver of the truck testified in favor of this statement earlier this evening. An investigation is currently ongoing regarding the involvement of the men in question, and we at Channel Six implore our viewers to come forward with any information you may have on the case or the supposed ringleader, the recently escaped Xever Montes. More on that later tonight. Up next, a local—”

Leonardo shuts off the television. “Well, there you go.” He stands up. “See? Didn’t even mention her name.”

Donatello breathes out a sigh of relief. “Good,” he nods after a moment. “That’s... good.” He cradles his head in his hand, his concerns hardly pacified by the report.

This, he cannot excuse. This is entirely a matter of his own negligence.

‘I should’ve noticed sooner, insisted to come with.’ He zones out, his brother starting a conversation about something he cannot bring himself to pay attention to. ‘How could she be that reckless? It’s Shredder for fuck’s sake; I should’ve at least noticed the body or something, anything.’ His fingers lace together as he stares a hole into the ground. ‘Even if I couldn’t have stopped her, I should’ve been there, if only after the fact.’ He runs his tongue along his teeth absentmindedly. ‘Some ninja I am. Some friend. Some—’

“So, I broke Y/N’s arms, right?”

His head snaps up. “You what?”

“There he is,” Raph chuckles. “Knew that’d get his attention.”

“Don’t make me go over there,” he glares. His face flushes in embarrassment.

Leonardo rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics. “As I was saying, it’s been pretty quiet, hasn’t it? Since the incident?”

“Now that you mention it,” Raph points out, “since the whole Leatherhead fiasco, I don’t think anything’s really happened. Ya know, besides the Kraang thing.” He crosses his arms behind his head, leaning back into the couch. “It’s been getting’ kinda boring If I’m bein’ honest.”

“It’s that desire to fight that’s going to get you killed,” Donatello informs him, staring at the television screen. “Saw what happened to her, right? Weren’t you just saying how stupid she was being?”

“Yeah, but that’s different.” He smiles sharply. “She’s got exactly no training. As much as you guys seem to have a thing for humility all of a sudden,” he waves his hand contemptuously, “the only reason she got hurt is that she was being stupid, so we’re pretty much undefeated, no thanks to Leo.”

He stands up, deciding against fighting him. “If you need me,” he says curtly, “I’ll be in my lab.”

“Watch it, Raph,” the eldest brother snaps.

“Why should I?” He throws his hands up. “Am I wrong?”

Mikey quietly grabs his comic off the floor, retreating to his room, presumably.

Donatello slides the door in between him and his brothers as he sits down at his desk.

You have been stuck in the hospital for about two weeks now.

‘Technically,’ he corrects himself as he pulls his laptop open, ‘it’s been three hundred fifty-seven hours, meaning it’s closer to fifteen days than two weeks. Why do I know that?’ He pulls up an image, uncapping a permanent marker and working on one of the more mindless parts of his latest project: reviving an incredibly battered map. He already has a frame for it once he is finished, but, knowing his brothers, the fading colors would likely be a point of contention if he did not at least make an effort to make it easier to read. Fortunately for him, it is not laminated. Unfortunately—depending on how you look at it— a lot of the finer details—the integral streets names in particular—are all irreparably smudged and, therefore, will have to be all rewritten by hand, turning a once twenty-minute job into at least a two-hour investment.

He tries to tune out the incessant arguing of his two older brothers as he focuses on making his minute handwriting legible despite the infuriatingly fat marker nib.

“You should have taken her offer for a pen when you had the chance,” he mumbles to himself.

His hand stops.

‘Would it be weird to go check on her again? Just to make sure she’s still alright? I mean,’ he goes back to work, ‘even if it were, how would she know?’

He shakes his head to clear it. ‘Stop that. You’re being a creep again.’

Over those two weeks, his distractedness has become more of a problem than it has in the past in reference to his work. He is hardly a stranger to having a thousand thoughts bouncing around his head at once, but where once a rapid stream of information was there is now an aggravatingly slow sludge. The origin of said mind sludge is not at all a mystery to him, which makes the whole thing infinitely more frustrating. ‘Frustrating? Depressing? Does it even matter?’

He rubs his eye absentmindedly with the heel of his palm as he strains to see what he is doing. The smell of the marker is corrosive in his nostrils. His hand shakes. He sets it down, wringing his hands as if to force them back into submission as he stares holes into the map. ‘This is not supposed to be challenging.’ He closes his eyes, the image of you lying on the ground, a bloody, skeletal figure shaking and begging for your life carved into the backs of his eyelids, a hideous scar.

He can not stop thinking about what you said the night before the incident. Something about being able to care for yourself.

What would you say to him now? He imagines that it would be something to remind him of how the accident is your fault, how he should not beat himself up over it, but all that does is convince him that he should have been faster to act or to respond or something. There had to have been something he, in his infinite wisdom, could have done. What else can he reason? That he is powerless? That he had no say in what happened that night of nights?

‘How come I can plan and build a combat vehicle out of alien technology and an old subway car and I can’t—’

He jumps at a loud banging at the door.

“Donnie!” He can hear Raphael’s wicked grin from behind the door. “Bank robbery! Let’s go!”

He sighs, capping the marker. His breakdown will have to wait.

“Comin’!”

--

The ringing in your ears is already annoying.

You have been awake for about five minutes. You have elected against moving for a plethora of reasons, but the ringing is a relatively large determining factor in your decision. You are, admittedly, not sure where you are until you hear the tell-tale incessant beeping you remember from your childhood. You do not open your eyes yet. You are incredibly drowsy for some reason.

‘Hospital?’

You sit up carefully, wincing as a numb pain permeates through your arms. You run your fingers over your face curiously, feeling for any perceived disfigurement as your eyes scan your surroundings. The small room you have been placed in seems standard; there are a couple of chairs under a window that makes up half of the wall, a television screen in a corner of the room, an inoffensive painting, and a small vase filled with some sort of white flowers.

You feel a protruding scar on the right side of your face. It traces from the bridge of your nose to about halfway across your cheekbone. As you bring your hands down to pull the hospital gown away from your body, you catch sight of your hands. Long, jagged cuts run vertically along the front of your hands, and as your eyes travel up your arms, you notice fewer, shorter scars along the insides of your forearms. You swallow, pulling the cloth away from your body to see long scratches running from your thighs to under your ribcage. You pull the blanket off to find that one of your legs is encased in a white cast.

You blink. ‘What stupid thing did I do?’

You lay back down, fingers absentmindedly tracing the scars. ‘I must have been out for a bit.’ You push the hair out of your face, noting how oddly shaky your hands are as you try to focus on what had happened. ‘Why wouldn’t my folks be here? They wouldn’t ditch me in a hospital, would they?’ You hold them out in front of you, palms to the ceiling. ‘I don’t look old or anything. My nails aren’t much longer than they were before, so I can’t have been out for that long.’

Your eyebrows furrow. ‘Parents…’ You swallow. ‘Oh, right. The fire.’ Your eyes go out of focus. ‘Dead. I was, too, until recently.’ You put your arms down. ‘I’m hungry. Where am I?’ You close your eyes. ‘New York. East coast. How far is the East Coast from the West Coast? I should call her so she knows I’m—no, she’s dead.’

“All dead and gone,” you mumble the tune to yourself.

You cover your face. ‘Focus. What happened?’ You recall what you think is a church. ‘Turtles. Turtle. Oh, TMNT. Where are people? Focus.’ You yank at a piece of your hair, mumbling to yourself as you try to run through the memory again.

The image of that man’s body takes your breath away.

You shut your eyes tighter. ‘Right. Car. Glass. Glass would be a good candy. Could you make glass out of sugar? Isn’t that what a lollipop is?’ You hug yourself tightly, careful of the IV as you roll onto your side towards it. ‘I killed someone. Someones. That’s not a word. Gasoline smells bad.’ You feel tears prick at your eyes. ‘I deserve to die for that. There has to have been an easier way to do that. I deserve to burn again. That explosion was so prettily animated in that episode. I can’t breathe.’

You curl your legs up towards you, using the arm not connected to the IV to hook behind your knees. You bury your head in your shoulder as you force your breathing to slow. ‘I miss her. Where is he? They’re dead and you killed them, you heartless bitch.’

You feel a sob rise in your throat. You swallow it back. ‘Stop being a pussy.’ You hear yourself start to count softly. ‘They’re all dead and gone. You’re on your own here, so get a grip.’ You grip the blanket. ‘After all, who are you going to turn to? The guys who already risk their lives every day? Or maybe Splinter, who will probably tell you some bullshit about letting your pain go?’

‘That’s not fair,’ you argue with yourself. ‘You can turn to Murakami. Casey might be willing to help.’

‘Because Casey’s known for his reliability and Murakami would want to deal with your stupid emotional problems.’

“Twenty-three,” you whisper, keeping your voice even. “Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six…’

You pull yourself back up, bringing your knee to your chest as you wipe any tears that may have leaked out with the back of your hand.

You do not have to wait long until someone comes in to check on you, a taller gentleman with sharp features and sunken eyes behind curly black hair. He introduces himself as Nurse McGrath, gives you a run down of the dizzying number of injuries you had suffered in the accident, what they had done to fix the problem, and starts to discuss what would become of you now.

“The doctor predicts that you’ll be able to remove your cast in approximately six weeks, and that you will regain your fine-motor skills fully in eight.” He is obviously half asleep, but you can hardly blame him; the clock on the wall reads that it is about three in the morning. “The symptoms from the whiplash should completely fade in about three months. If you would be open, there are medications we can prescribe to help with the pain.”

You smile. “Thank you, sir, but I’d rather not.” You are sincerely concerned what might happen if you start taking any sort of medication right now, considering your mental health.

“I should probably warn you in advance that the police might ask you to come in to identify the guys who kidnapped you.”

You blink, confused. “How do they know I was kidnapped?”

“Anonymous tip, according to the news.” He scratches something into some form or another. “I dunno the specifics, but nobody thinks they’re gonna charge you with anything, ‘specially since the driver was from that street gang.”

You nod. “Gotcha.” You purse your lips. “What day is it?”

“Twenty-fourth, now.”

You sigh. “Well,” you shrug, ignoring the pain it causes, “at least I’m not dead.”

“At least.” He caps his pen. “Technically, you’re free to leave, but the doc thinks it’s a good idea to stay overnight. Your insurance provider has your medical bills covered, so you’re good for it.”

“Honestly? I’m surprised I don’t feel weaker.” You smile. “I’m more than happy to head home tonight, if that makes most sense.”

“Personally, I wouldn’t stay.” He starts heading out of your room. “Your cellphone is locked up. I’m guessing you want it?”

You nod eagerly, realizing quickly that makes the ringing worse.

“I’ll bring it right back, then.”

You refrain from touching it until he leaves.

It looks as if it was put in a blender, but you find it does still turn on. A problem quickly arises: your hands cannot hold the phone. You set it down on the mattress, each movement taking a ridiculous amount of time to coordinate as you type like someone who has never used a phone before. ‘Fine motor skills. Right.’ You type out a message after approximately too long that tells Donnie that you are out of the hospital and heading home.

You check out of the hospital at approximately four-thirteen. The trip home is a straight line of a walk that takes you approximately twenty minutes. Getting in through the door with a walker is a bit of a challenge, but it works out well enough.

You lock the door and windows when you get home, shutting your phone off as you crawl into bed.

You let out a low groan as your head punishes you for your heinous crime of moving. You had realized ten minutes into your walk that you were not at all physically strong enough to walk that long, and you already hate yourself for it, among other reasons. As you crawl into bed, ignoring your body’s protest, you still stand by your decision to not take any medication, especially now.

You feel as though you are being suffocated as you cling onto your pillow, pressing your face into it as you cry silently, the ringing in your ears only getting louder in the silence of your apartment.

‘I feel sick.’

You remember your first night here. You remember the feeling it had caused you, the numb ache of loss as you submitted to the situation you had found yourself in. It feels like an eternity ago, now. You know, logically, it cannot have been more than two months since you got here.

You had decided against taking a cab back home. You had the cash, and you still do, in your bloodstained pocket. You saw many as you walked home, and you had turned a blind eye to them all.

You feel yourself trembling again. You remember the first night you had slept on your own here, the nightmares you swore were the product of a mind much more sadistic than yours ever was. You remember, too, the nightmares you had after Bradford, the way that, for the first time in your life since you were five years old you woke up drenched in sweat and crying for your mother.

What possible dream could come from this?

You reach a hand to the nightstand, hovering over your cellphone as you consider your next action.

Slowly, you retract it, letting it rest next to you. ‘It’s four. He’s not awake.’ You do not have the energy to get up to grab the bottle of sleeping pills from your bathroom.

‘I don’t want to sleep. I can’t take another nightmare.’ You rest your cheek on the pillow, forcing your eyes shut. ‘Mare. Why is it called a nightmare? Are mares truly that terrifying?’

“One,” you whisper. “Two. Three.”

Table of Contents

Chapter 8

Chapter 10