#or maybe 'Clockwork' is a more personal name like a nickname

[declamationark]

“No��” All of the Bats freeze at the implication, but it was Nightwing who manages a soft, fearful, please-this-is-not-what-I-think whisper. “Danny...?”

“How.” Batman’s voice cuts through, and Danny struggled not to shift at the tone. Oh ancients, quick, think quick— “How did Daniel Fenton die?”

All of Mr. Lancer’s English classes Danny didn’t sleep through had better come through!

He lets the word hang in the silence, before a sudden pressure shifts and presses down and down on every hero in the room. Danny lets his black-green body loom, claws digging into the walls as he pulls himself closer to Batman. The man stands tall even illuminated in the intense light of his green eyes, even eye to eye with the Ghost King, even when Danny’s form surrounds him like a trap. They can hear Red Hood’s shots ring out, Nightwing’s escrema sticks crackling, and the cacophony of alarm rise but get swallowed into silence like light in a blackhole.

“You dare ask my death?” Fogs and echoes of death-bones-rattling-stepping-over-squelching-graves surround them. “Surely the Mad Magician warned you…” pearls-rolling-across-an-alley-gunshots-ringing “…not to ask a ghost’s death.” Scent-of-incense-prayers-chanting-let-the-dead-rest-undisturbed-or-face-our-wrath

“Especially mine.”

let-the-dead-rest-undisturbed-or-face-our-wrath

Danny watches as Batman, faintly, grits his teeth. It’s embarrassing really, and Danny really wants to stop everything and bury himself in a hole somewhere, but surely this will stop them from asking..?

Surely?

Right?

Right??

“Daniel,” Batman’s hand rises, Danny jerks away but aborts when… it pulls out the cowl and reveals Bruce.

Bruce.

“Daniel is a son of mine. He loves space and stars, he dreamed of becoming an astronaut before an accident prevented that but he still loved them. He was a genius who just needed the time to be able to focus on his classes, and could make gadgets out of anything. He hates toast because they’re dry and he calls his sister as often as he can. Him and Red Robin make menaces out of each other, he gets into pun contests with Nightwing, bakes with Red Hood and Agent A, goes on ‘adventures’ with Robin, and I can’t even get started on what him, Oracle, Spoiler and Black Bat do together.

“So yes, I do dare ask your death despite the faux pas and Constantine’s warnings. Because Daniel, and you, is someone we deeply care about.”

And he says this so honestly that Danny… Danny just freezes.

How is he supposed to respond to that?

How is he… just how..?

Now he feels like the worst person ever. He wants to tell them the truth, or jump out the window, or just shrivel up and let it all go away.

“Please.”

Now he just wants to cry.

The pressure recedes, Danny slumps back and the rest of the world trickles in with a silence no longer blocked but now became one of bated breath.

Batman’s cowl is back.

Danny shrinks like a child toeing at the dirt under him, like a child thinking an excuse in front of a parent.

“As I’ve said, time is not linear within my realms.” He begins, like Ghostwriter beginning a new tale, like his own father telling a story over fudge, like Clockwork’s lessons, like the Ghost King’s somber speech. “Not only that, but there are events under Time’s watch that cannot be changed. My mortal form’s death is one of them, as distant as it is to me now. But I remember still, the pain…” the portal opening with him still inside, electricity rearranging his very being, it was all so much that he couldn’t even open his mouth to scream. “It was agony lighting my whole body ablaze. I crawled as far as I could, and then arms embraced me, telling me it was going to be okay.” Sam and Tucker crying in the harsh green light, holding tight and panicking, blubbering reassurances, thinking they’re seeing Danny’s final moments.

In a way, they did.

“I awoke later, confused and seeking purpose in what-comes-after-death. I dedicated my afterlife into protecting others, firstly the family and friends I cared for. Later, a town. And much later, the ghosts I was peers with. And much, much later, bearing the title of Ghost King, the very realm that held all my citizens, everyone under my protection.

“So yes, Daniel Fenton will die and become me. Or maybe he is already buried and becoming me, saving others, and drinking in his new existence. Nonetheless, his death is one of the cornerstones of the timelines, so I’d advise not to time travel around it and other such cornerstones that I mentioned before, lest you crumble reality and invite disaster.”

For once, Danny doesn’t wait until the summoning spell dissipates. Before anyone can blink, he was already gone.

Triple Identity Crisis

Danny had a problem. If it was a big one, he couldn't tell yet but he was partially sure Clockwork was at fault for this. Or at least he wanted to blame his ghostly godparent who most likely just wanted to cause some chaos for entertainment with the pretext of helping Danny. Which was a very likely reason for why Danny had a problem right now.

As it was the former Fenton now Fenton-Wayne boy was pacing his room in the Manor trying to think what is next step should be, because as it was his 'new' family –Did new still apply if he was living with them for a little more than a year now? – knew him under three different Identities now. And to top it all off they were not aware that the three identities were all pretty much connected as one.

For one. His family, knew him as Danny, the space obsessed kid, who became a meta because of his ectobiology science obsessed parents and his teenager recklessness. A kid that was actually a genius if you gave him enough time for school and could make you anything out of a ancients be damed toaster. That was the Danny they mainly knew. The Kid they took in, let in on the family business and then chose, to the happiness of Alfred and dismay of some of his 'new' siblings, normal life over vigilante life.

Then they knew Phantom. A dead ghost hero that was helping the Justice League and Young Justice to help them deal with the aftermath of the huge fallout caused by the GIW, Guys in White or rather Ghost Investigation Ward. And while Danny didn't know he had apparently worked with nearly his entire family and that time he knew it now. Which was awkward because he had pretty much pestered one of his elder brothers about his condition until Red Hood, aka Jason, let Phantom help him. Ancient, things might get awkward if that secret is lifted. He had done a lot of things Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Orphan and Robin had scowled him for. Thankfully they only thought of him as a dead teen hero and didn't know what a Halfa was. So they didn't make the connection, and he had yet to meet Signal, aka Duke as Phantom.

Now came the third identity, which totally did not happen by his choice. After all officially he hadn't accepted the throne yet and would only get it once he was dead dead not half dead. To bad ancient texts don't care about formalities. So when trouble hit the fan really hard the Justice League Dark had the bright Idea of getting some other worldly help. Which in other words was summoning the Ghost King. Oh boy, was it fun to learn that way that Danny could get summoned against his will. Clockwork did not give him that warning when he told him about the future of his afterlife. But best of all? Oh he doesn't get summoned as Phantom which would have made things maybe a bit easier, oh no. Life wasn't easy. He got someone's in some as a super weird black-green mass of a formless eltrich body with sharp teeth, claws and glowing green eyes with no pupils or irises. Hell Danny even scared himself when he saw his own reflection in a window and he didn't have a single idea how to change his form.

Let it be known that Danny acted then on purpose like he didn't know a single person in that room he had been summoned in right out of his bed and that he wasn't staring at his adoptive father like he needed help who interpreted his stare as the ghost king sizing him up. And Danny knows this because Dick had a good laugh about that at the dinner table with the rest of his siblings.

Now a smart person would probably come clean to his family and explain to them the three identities they knew him under and how they are connected.

To bad Danny wasn't 'smart' when it came to things like that. No in his panic and newfound awkwardness of the situation of what he had done on separate occasions with his identity as Phantom AND Ghost King, he decided to keep acting like he didn't knew them personally like the truely does. Really how hard could that be? Besides he liked the way his family threaten him now. He didn't want to get threaten differently because he was half dead, or a Ghost King. He liked that his family was treating him as plain old Danny who had an obsession with space and was their quirkily little brother with powers.

So that gave him even more incentive to keep the act up. Even if it was hard at times, especially if he got summoned out of nowhere. It would be easier if he could get a hang of the duplication power. He even had played with the thought of getting one of his ghost rogues to help but his family was perceptive. Maybe not perceptive enough to realise that all three identities were one and the same person but they would notice if Danny acted just slightly different or if Phantom was more of then usually. But somehow he still managed to keep it up.

But it was the hard way that he learned, Danny was bad at doing the 'talking' and realized that maybe Jazz was right and he was going to slip up one day causing huge misunderstandings like right now.

He stared down at Batman and Nightwing in his Ghost King form. Red Hood had his guns pulled on him, Wonder Woman and Superman looked like they where going to try to pull back Batman any second now while Nightwing, maybe at first was going to try to calm down the bat but Danny was pretty sure the eldest bat kid was now fiercely glaring at him too. He was also pretty sure the only reason he didn't see Red Robin or Robin threaten him too was because their super friends were somehow holding them back. For their own or his safety he doesn't know at the moment.

Because apparently the Bats did not fear fighting otherworldly beings to protect one of their own.

"What did you just say about Danny Fentons death?!" Batman grunted out and Danny just knew his adoptive father was glaring at him. Ancients Danny cursed his brain to mouth filter right now. As he had the collective hero scene before him staring at his Ghost King form. Would this be a good or bad moment to come completely clean or maybe he should find some kind of philosophical bullshit of 'All things death belong to him'....

[wellthebardsdead]

Clockwork Heart pt33

Part 32 here

———

Nerevar: You told them your name?!

Wyrm: *hiccups softly as he cries into taliesins robe, the group now safely back together at the winking skeever*

Taliesin: *gently holding his partner safe in his arms* He was cornered! by Rulindil of all people! What did you want him to do? Incriminate himself by being caught turning invisible? Believe me he wouldn’t be the first person tied to the rack for doing so.

Voryn: *offering Wyrm a cup of tea to try and soothe him* Neht, be gentle with him, he’s lucky to have made it out alive.

Nerevar: *sighs and sits down* you’re right… it could have gone a lot worse.

Caryalind: No blood, no other witnesses apart from Rulindil too. Elenwen will have a hard time pinning anything on you friend… if she’s even alive after how much wine I watched her consume… oh gods maybe she was dead?

Nerevar: she certainly looked it as Ondolemar carried her away… Did you hear her call him ulfric as well or was I just hearing things?

Caryalind: Oh no I heard that too~ I think if any threats come our way I’ll just say I’m conducting an investigation on reports of a star crossed love affair between her and the leader of the rebellion~ I imagine she’ll jump out of her robes trying to backflip out of that situation… *shudders* ugh, there’s an image.

Taliesin: Elenwen and ulfric- oh gods that’s though to make me taste bile in the back of my throa- Wyrm?

Wyrm: *shifts in his lap taking the tea cup with a trembling hand and having a sip* d-did I get enough information?…

Taliesin: *gently holds the cup with him, voryns hand lingering under it too* shhh steady darling.

Nerevar: *glances at Wyrms bag before pulling out the dossiers and looking through them* one on Esbern… One on Delphine, one on ulfric, and one on- the Akaviri?

Kaidan: The Akaviri?…

Nerevar: *opens it up and reads through it quietly his face growing more and more stern with each sentence* … *looks up at Kaidan and holds it out to him* you need to read this…

Kaidan: *stares at him and the book nervously before taking it* I’ll. Um… I’ll be in my room. *nods to the group and walks out quietly, closing the door as he leaves*

Caryalind: what was in the book?…

Nerevar: *sighs* a report. On the genocide of the Akaviri settlements in skyrim…

Everyone: *silence*

Nerevar: *picks up Esberns dossier* but, apart from that, nothing on the dragons as expected. Esbern however, is in riftens ratway. Just like we’d suspected… *looks at Wyrm as he sets the book down and picks up his ale* …You did great Hla Aka…

Wyrm: *smiles a little through his tears at the praise before looking up at taliesin* …Can you tell me about your nickname now? Piper?

Taliesin: *nearly drops the tea in shock and coughs* wh-when were alone maybe.

*a few hours later*

Caryalind: *unable to sleep listening to soft cries and voices from the room next to his. Kaidan weeping mournfully that he could be the last Akaviri in skyrim, that he may never find what happened to his mother. And nerevar and inigo comforting him through his pain… pain caused by his father, his family, and the senseless violence and cruelty they’d spread across nirn* … *sighs and gets up to see if the bar is open, hoping another glass of wine will knock him senseless enough to fall asleep numb* gods Caryalind, what have you gotten yourself in- *stands there in silence spotting a trail of silver hair sliding down the stairs* …to. Wyrm?! *hurries down after him, pausing only for a moment contemplating running to get help or running after him, deciding the latter as the best option* Wyrm where are you going?! *runs from the stairs into the tavern to see the small dunmer already heading out the door, completely barefoot and only in his long night shirt, and very much, still asleep* WYRM!!?!!? *books it after him, sliding over a table and staggering out the door trying to figure out how he can move so quickly despite his height. Only to nearly scream in an almost falsetto as he spots the dunmer lifting a manhole cover in the middle of the street* WYRM WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! *falters for a moment debating to go get help, only to nearly faint watching the dunmer simply drop into the sewer* WYRM!!!! *hurries over wondering why now of all times there’s nobody around to help except him* oh gods oh gods Wyrm don’t move I’m coming do- *blinks watching as a green butterfly suddenly flits right by his face, landing on his shoulder before fluttering off as a purple butterfly flies up and lands on his nose before flitting away as well* what in oblivion?… *looks down in the sewer again* …what was in that wine?!

*a few hours later*

Taliesin: *running out of the inn* He can’t have gone far!!

Nerevar: He was laying right beside you how did you not notice him moving?!

Taliesin: Oh I don’t know it might have something to do with the severe sleep deprivation you put us through this past month getting us here!!! Maybe ask your husband why he didn’t wake up to Wyrms sleep walking like he normally does instead of yelling at me!

Nerevar: Don’t you dare blame voryn for this!

Kaidan: Have none of you focking noticed that thalmor prick is missing too?! He’s obviously run off with him!

Inigo: but his bag is still here and-

Voryn: *trying to find any connection to Wyrm through the heart, the mountain, the dream sleeve, anything* WILL YOU ALL SHUT UP!!

*silence*

Voryn: thank y-

*scraping of metal on stone and the exhausted gasping of a very, very worn out high elf*

Caryalind: *pushes the manhole cover away and pulls himself and a still fast asleep Wyrm out of the sewers, along with a strange chunk of amber and a rather ordinary but very big sword in hand* A-a little help? Please?

Taliesin: Wyrm! *pushes past everyone running to the pair, immediately taking Wyrm from the prince and holding him tight in his arms* love?

Wyrm: *only gives a soft hum in response, hugging the odd sword and it’s scabbard close as he sleeps soundly, the blade nearly twice the length of his body* hmnn…

Voryn: *helps Caryalind out of of the sewer along with nerevar and inigo* by the gods what happened? You look like you’ve been through oblivion and back?

Caryalind: *covered in venom, the pigment of a rainbow of butterflies, and sporting a number of cuts and bruises* I think I- I think I literally did. You can go down and see for yourself I- I need to sit down. *falls back passing out into inigo’s arms from both blood loss and exhaustion*

Inigo: My friend?!

Nerevar: *grunts lifting the taller elf up* Let’s get them inside an- *stands there bewildered as Kaidan suddenly takes the prince from his arms, holding him so carefully and gently* Kaidan?

Kaidan: I’ve got him… you focus on Wyrm… *turns and walks off into the inn*

Everyone: *looks at each other perplexed before looking at Taliesin then at Wyrm as a humble monarch butterfly flits down and lands on his head*

Wyrm: *sneezes and jolts awake* W-wah?! Huh?!

*a few days later*

Wyrm: *well rested and twirling about in the new mage robes he’d purchased as the group heads down to the solitude stables, the fabric cleverly hiding not only the leather armour fitted beneath it, but allowing him access to easily remove and move his prosthetic arm* are we headed to riften first then? Or riverwoo-oh! *jumps a little as he bumps into nerevar and gets trapped in a hug*

Nerevar: *equally well rested and in a much better mood along with the rest of the group* Riften. I want to get there before the thalmor do and the less we have to interact with Delphine the better. My heads only just stopped hurting.

Voryn: mine as well. *leans over giving him a soft kiss before giving Wyrm a hug too* and the longer we can stay out of trouble the better.

Inigo: yes but things are always interesting when we get into trouble~

Caryalind: *healed up but still a bit sore, still trying to comprehend the sheer insanity he’s witnessed after his first day with the group* I’ll say.

Taliesin: *chuckles and clears his throat* you get used to it after a while your highness. How are you holding up?

Caryalind: Mentally? Physically? Emotionally? Because I feel close to falling apart with two of them. Other than that, brilliant.

Wyrm: *looks back at him as neht and voryn usher him along* Im sorry about the other night, throwing you into the deep end and all…

Caryalind: *smiles* don’t apologise my friend. I ran away from home to help in any way I can, I knew it wouldn’t be easy or predictable, but it’s still a lot to take in. It’s the most excitement I’ve had in well, my whole life! Besides, it was very entertaining making Elenwen fall apart~

Wyrm: I- o-oh yes that too but, I meant… the sleep walking…

Caryalind: Ah, that, yes. That was something truely unexpected. From what Voryn and Nerevar told me I take it it happens often? *pauses watching inigo pull a large white stone out of his bag before running up a hill towards a shrine of Meridia*

Wyrm: *nods* y-yeah, it happens a lot. After I absorbed the soul of lorkhan I blacked out and walked all the way to Helgen from saarthal in my sleep, in my dream I saw the birth of creation and the council where lorkhans heart was sundered from his body and shot into the sea where it became red mountain. Then after that, almost every time I dream I start walking into trouble… that night though, I was… following sheogorath I think? He wanted to play more games with me and when I finally reached him he turned into another prince? He was big and looked like he was made out of glass. He was very nice and gave me that sword. *points to the blade on Caryalinds back*

Caryalind: *recalling nearly getting killed by gigantic bugs, spriggans, saints and seducers and a lunatic only in a helmet and his underpants as Wyrm pulled the sword from one of the strange roots whilst completely unharmed and fast asleep* …Well I’m glad one of us had a pleasant time at least. *blinks watching inigo return holding a glowing sword like nothings amiss, nobody even noticing he’d run off*

Taliesin: Speaking of that giant sword, are you considering training with it your highness? And abandoning your promise to train your dagger skills with me? I’m hurt~

Caryalind: What? Me? Ha! Gods no can you imagine me trying to swing this around? Besides who would be willing to train me when I’m barely proficient with a dagger?

Kaidan: *coughs suddenly piping up a little from the back of the group* uh, I could teach you a few things… as a thanks for saving our Wyrm and all, yeah…

Inigo: Awww! Kaidan has a crush on youuuuu~

Kaidan: IM GOING TO WAX THE FUR OFF YOUR TAIL! COME HERE DAMN YOU!

Inigo: *takes off ahead of the group* hehehehehehe~

Wyrm: *smiles watching them go* im glad, everyone’s in a good mood again.

Voryn: *smiles down at him then at nerevar lovingly* me too dear. Let’s… take our time getting to riften… I’m sure Esbern will be fine.

Nerevar: *nods smiling back at him, completely masking the overwhelming dread in his stomach as he spots the strange masked figures lurking beyond the tree line in the distance* Yeah, for now, let’s just worry about us.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

I was tagged by @onmywaytonarnia so here's some stuff about me

Nickname: Florida Man or just Florida (god help me, I hate it down here...)

Sign: PEDESTRIAN X-ING, REST AREA - 3 MILES, or perhaps SPEEDING FINES DOUBLED WHEN WORKERS PRESENT (I do not believe in astrology)

Height: 6'1" or 6'2"

Last thing I googled: Perseverance rover

Song stuck in my head: for some reason I have a mashup of Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls and Breakaway by Kelly Clarkson stuck in my head. I don't know if I actually heard a mashup somewhere, or if they were both part of that 4-chords song by Axis of Awesome, but I can't stop thinking of the two choruses layered on top of each other (🎶and I don't want the world to see me cause I don't think that they'd understand/🎶I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly🎶)

Follower count: officially 3222, but I noticed when I was just starting out that tumblr inflated the actual count by like 20, 30, 40%. When it said I had 100 followers, I counted, and I actually had 85. When it said I had 1000, I only had like 700. I stopped counting after that, so I have no clue how many I actually have right now. Probably more than 1000, but probably not more than 2000. I have maybe 100 followers who regularly interact with my stuff, about 30 of whom are mutuals (maybe 10 or 15 close friends).

Amount of aleep: AHAHAHAHAHAHA (5, maybe 6 hours on a good night? Sometimes none, just endless tossing and turning because my brain won't shut off)

Lucky number: 13, and I'm not being ironic about that. I'm serious. 13 is my favorite number of a variety if personal reasons

Dream job: I want to be part of a creative team, I want to work with a bunch of people to make something for people to see! I want to make art, and I want to collaborate so I'm not alone. Writing scripts or making props or dressing sets, some manner of production design. I want to craft!

Wearing: Goodfellow t-shirt and cargo shorts

Movie/book that summarizes me: Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir feels like it was written for me personally. That is how my thought process works, that is how I deal with problems, that is who I want to be. I have a higher than average understanding of math and science but I always try to explain it in as simple terms as possible for people who find it all too daunting. This is the kind of book I want to write, sci-fi that explains the sci.

Favorite songs: Ramblin Man, the Gambler, Country Roads, the Devil Went Down to Georgia (I'm noticing a country pattern...), anything by Weird Al Yankovic (Hardware Store and Albuquerque are probably my top 2 of his),the Little Shop of Horrors movie soundtrack, White Squall and Northwest Passage by Stan Rogers (I went through a sea shanty phase when Wellerman was big), anything by Jonathan Coulton (Skullcrusher Mountain, Code Monkey, Blue Sunny Day, Big Wide World One, Shop Vac, Mandelbrot Set, to name a few), Climb Out Your Window, Addicted, and Here We Go by Walk off the Earth, and the Celtic Woman cover of Danny Boy (this is my go-to cry song; if I need a nice long cry, I put this on and it all comes flowing out of me)

Favorite instrument: I love brass, trumpet specifically, I could listen to Louis Armstrong all day

Aesthetic: analog technology, typewriters, instant photography, clockwork watches without quartz, sacrificing convenience for the sake of privacy, nostalgia for the early 2000s (but through the eyes of a child, so no George W. Bullshit)

Favorite author: per capita, Andy Weir. He's only written 3 books, but I love them all and want to emulate him. Max Brooks for World War Z. Cormac McCarthy for The Road (very depressing, but hopeful near the end; one of the only books to really tug at my heartstrings). John Steinbeck for Of Mice and Men (another heartstring tugger). Audrey Niffenegger for The Time Traveler's Wife.

Currently reading: Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

Favorite colors: cyan, lime green, heliotrope purple

Favorite animal sounds: the scuttling of crabs on pavement, the sneef-snorfing of a curious dog, the bleat of a baby goat, the EHHH of a baby sloth, the MEHH of a baby deer, the chirping of bats, ethereal whale songs

Last song: either I'm Going to go Back There Someday from the Muppet Movie, or Hey I Don't Work Here by Tom Cardy

Last Series: Owl House (Lulu + Hootcifer 4ever!!! Oh yeah and lumity's pretty good too I guess)

Random: I once learned all the lyrics to Bobby Darin's Mack the Knife without ever actually listening to the lyrics of Mack the Knife. Like, I listened to the song all the time, but I never paid attention to what was being said. It was just gibberish to me, but I learned the gibberish, and I sang along to it in the car one day and my mom asked why I was so enthusiastic about murder. Turns out Mack the Knife is about an old londontown ripper named Macheath. Still a banger though.

@goldenmoldies @olivia-online @nsomniacsdream @schifty-al @richardjager @n-brio @orange-birdie

[vendettavalor]

⚔️ MUSE INTERVIEW ⚔️

BRISBANE BAGLEY

NICKNAME:

“Name’s Brisbane. People usually call me Bris ‘less I’m workin’ with ‘em, related to ‘em, or huntin’ them. Then it’s Bris, Pa, or Bagley respectively.”

GENDER:

“I believe the kids these days call it transgender? It’s hard work keepin’ up with the terms when they keep changin’, and I’m an old man so forgive me, yeah? Me n’ my wife swapped bits a bit later n’ life than most. She wanted to be a Sheila, I wanted to be a bloke, so that’s what we did. In any case, I can’t be arsed to put a real label to it anymore. I’ve gone by he, I’ve gone by she, I’ve gone by they, I’ve gone by it. Can’t say I care too much anymore at my age. Just call me Cerelum- or Captain, if nothin’ else. I don’t mind.”

ORIENTATION:

“The term bisexual still exists, dunnit? That’s what I’ve always identified as. Can’t pick, ya see. Too many bloody gorgeous people across the spectrum for me to settle on just one.”

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY:

“I’m Aboriginal Australian on my father’s side and plain ol’ colonizer Australian on my mother’s. Long way of saying- I’m full Australian, mate. Just in case the roo ears and tail didn’ give it away.”

HEIGHT:

“Last I checked, I was 198 centimeters. So that’s… what, around 6’6” in Eagle units? ‘Course that was when I enlisted and like I said, I’m old. Mighta shrunk since I got me first star patch but it’s around there I reckon.”

STAR SIGN:

“Myths don’t subscribe to that astrology stuff, sorry. Not sure what it means. I think we have our own version of it but I’m gonna be honest- it’s all rubbish to me. Never paid attention so I can’t give ya a real answer.”

FAVE FRUIT:

“Watermelon. Bonnie’s was always a stick in the mud about it- said it just tasted like water. She preferred mangoes or passionfruit, hard as they were to get her hands on. Me personally, I loved it. Nothin’ betta to have on a hot day sittin’ on ya porch. It’s cool, it’s refreshing, and if ya know how to pick ‘em, they’re real sweet.”

FAVE SEASON:

“I always preferred the fall. Harvest season always brought about the best of summer’s end and autumn’s beginning. Cool but not cold, sunny but not hot. Ideal time for huntin’ and outdoor activities like that. Bonnie and I used to take picnics every weekend we could out in the park near home. Watch the leaves fall and the animals fatten up on the stores they’d built up. Nice time, I’d say.”

FAVE FLOWER:

“Protea. Pink and orange ones especially. It was somethin’ Bonnie n’ I used to bond over actually - we had the same favorite flower. Every anniversary and holiday we’d build a bouquet of them together. Used to have a garden full of em’. Good times those were. Our house never lacked for color, I’ll tell ya that for free.”

FAVE SCENT:

“Almonds. Reminds me of my wife. The lass was obsessed with them. Her favorite treat they were. She’d eat them till she made herself sick, swear em’ off, then go right back to ‘em. Like clockwork. My sweet gal- she was a right mess at times she was.”

COFFEE, TEA, HOT CHOCOLATE:

“‘M Australian, mate. It’s tea morning, noon, and night. Personally prefer something with a stronger fruit flavor than your usual earl grey or green. Morning tea’s usually something with caffeine to wake up, noon might be green tea with honey and lemon for health, but it’s always chamomile with milk and lavender at night. And I don’t think I need to mention that I prefer my drinks hot.”

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP:

“I try to get my eight to nine hours. Truthfully though, I don’t think I’ve slept more than four or five at time since I enlisted. It would take a real Act of God or miracle for that to happen at this point.”

DOG PERSON OR CAT PERSON:

“Dogs, actually. Maybe I’m just not afraid enough of dingoes. But I’ve seen what cats have done to some of the native populations in other places. I’ll take dogs over that any day. ‘Sides, I’ve had better luck working with dogs on farms and ranches than I ever have with cats.”

DREAM TRIP:

“If ‘m bein’ honest, I love travel. Part of the reason Bonnie n’ I enjoyed our time in the service, aside from knowin’ the difference we were makin’, was being able to hop from place to place. We saw Europe, we saw the Americas, we even went as far down South as Cape Town. Those were the days.

We always dreamed of taking a long trip once the war was over. No place in particular. Just our pile of savings, couple’a backpacks and passports, and off we’d go. By plane or by cruise or by rental, we just wanted to wander the world. See all the hidden gems hiding behind the tourist traps. Taste all the delicacies we could never stick around for at our own leisure, make camp in woodlands and parks sleeping under the stars. Maybe work occasional odd jobs. We didn’t want a formal plan. We just wanted to live wild and free for a bit before we finally laid roots back home. ‘N even though Bonnie’s gone, some part of me would still like to make good on that dream.”

NUMBER OF BLANKETS THEY SLEEP WITH:

“Bit of an odd one, innit? I try to rotate blankets but I have three main ones. A weighted one scented like lavender to help with the nighttime anxiety, a home made stuffed duvet that my own grandparents gave me on my wedding day, and a thick crocheted piece made with love and left to me by my wife. I take good care of all three. Got a lotta sentiment to them, you know? The memories they carry are bittersweet they are - but I wouldn’t change a thing about them.”

RANDOM FACT:

“I’m seventy years young and I’ve got… twenty three? No- twenty five grandkits. I love each and every one of them to pieces. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen much of them since my daughter up an’ ran off with the man she married. He always did give me a bad feelin’… I know the oldest three are a clever bunch and would take good care of their younger ones. Still, I hope to the goddess they alright, and I won’t rest until I find them and know for certain that everythin’s okay. Especially with the second oldest. Piper always was the kit closest to me. I’d do anythin’ to make sure my little lightning bolt’s still kickin’ somewhere out there.”

TAGGED BY: @tacticalvalor (From main- thanks boo! ❤️)

TAGGING: Y O U!

[profounddestinyrebel]

All the things he can't/won't tell Jazz and his friends he says in his letters

-how much dying hurt, as well as the fact that my parents didn't even notice that I was hurt, I should be thankful right? That they didn't notice. That they don't care. Because I'm fine now, no one can even see the scar now, it's like nothing happened. How would I have explained that anyway, I died and I'm going to school the next day? They would have... Nevermind

I knows they love me. They tell me all the time. They hug me, they try to protect me. If they knew.. they wouldn't actually take me apart. they love me. I'm their child. they love me. they adopted me for crying out loud! I'm safe.. right?

Jazz. Jazz says writing letters too you even if I'm not going to send them is kinda like therapy. That it would help process my feelings about being a clone without actually contacting you. 'Cause that would be dangerous and also I don't want too. What if your like the Fruitloop? One creepy person obsessed with is more than enough, I don't need more of them.

The hot dogs unionized. We agreed to a ceasefire and set them free in the woods. I kept a few though and I'm going to bring them to the next meeting with the Observants. Clockwork hasn't told me that he was ordered to kill me this week so obviously they've gotten either less afraid or don't think I would sink to these depths. But they'll learn. And maybe they'll take each other out and I'll only have to worry about my math test this week.

Ellie visited. She says she doesn't want to be called Dani anymore. That it's too close too Danny and she wants her own name now. I told her she could be "Goop" as no one else has ever melted before. She put it on the bottom of the list. Jazz suggested "Ellie" because of it being a Family nickname. Jazz picked mine too, when I wanted to change mine, she knows the best names. Ilove her

Fruitloop tried to make a kid again with me. it failed. again. what do I do if he succeeds? All the others except for Ellie melted and what if they find out? Fruitloop says as long as they don't know about him he won't tell them about me but he's not taking any precautions! He's just going around willy nilly where anyone could see! I- I. He wants people to find out so he can tell them without breaking his promises. he's trying to kill me again

This kinda helped? I think. Well, bye Originals!

Danny finds out hes a clone/ adopted, and instead of processing that like a normal person he decides, "Well its not like they can find me so imma mess with my bio parent(s) while venting my frustrations. Two birds with one stone."

Hence (hero or villian of your choice) begins receiving letters via untraceable magic of him telling them he's thier clone/son and just telling them about his day/past adventures.

Unfortunately most of his adventures are horrifying and the person is desperately scrambling to find thier dumb (possibly undead) child and rescue them.

It probably doesn't help that Danny only signs his name as Phantom and is careful not to give clues to his location.

[myxineye]

Not mean to be rude,but can we get to know more facts about Kestrel please?: )

YES!! KESTREL MY FRIEND KESTREL ^_^

I've been looking for an excuse to drop some stuff about Kestrel after editing their backstory a little bit, if you’re interested in the whole backstory it’s under the keep reading tab! But for now, here’s some random facts about Kestrel:

Frequently whistles and sings to himself

Has a habit of cleaning their prosthetics often; the last thing you’d wanna worry about in the middle of battle is getting an infection from your own arms. Over time, cleaning their weapons just turned into something they do to calm themself.

Kestrel has some problems managing how much pressure to apply to things with their arms; if you go for a high five with them, there’s a chance they might break your hand. Recently though, that chance is getting smaller as Quincy continues to make more modifications to their arms

Upper body is full of scars, most notably burn scars, due to some past accidents with their arms. They make sure to cover them when in public though

Needs to wear a special spinal brace when using bulkier arm weapons; otherwise they’d get bad back pain trying to carry everything around

Despite knowing fully well the Armada are clockworks and not alive, Kestrel still feels a kind of kinship with them. Maybe it’s because of their identity problems as a cyborg, or the fact that the Armada treated them better than the Dogs ever had (of course, it was because Kestrel was useful to the Armada, which they’re also aware of), but they can’t bring themself to think of the Armada as only machines. 

At one point, Quincy made them a mechanical falcon as a gift, which Kestrel nicknamed Ava. They like to use it to send messages to people, and sometimes the two can be heard singing/whistling together :)

Anyways the full backstory for Kestrel here!

██████ “Kestrel” ████████

36 years old

Any pronouns

Musketeer + Buccaneer

Backstory:

Kestrel isn’t their actual name, but a codename given during their time in Her Majesty’s Secret Service; they’ve long forgotten their original name. Growing up, they led a fairly ordinary life in Marleybone, but one fateful night led to both the death of their parents and the loss of their arms. They were found on the verge of death by a certain M, who brought them to a hospital and eventually convinced them to join the Secret Service, to follow in the steps of their parents (but honestly it was just an excuse to test some experimental weapons through prosthetics, it was an extension of the golem program). Not having anything else to do and feeling grateful that M saved their life, Kestrel agreed to join – and from then on, they were given the codename Kestrel and served essentially as a living weapon and test subject. It was also during this time Kestrel met Quincy, who was by then an established engineer working on irregular duty in Marleybone (Quincy's backstory is more extensive and all over the place, but they're the one person tying every oc together so of course I gotta mention them here).

Over time, Kestrel became disillusioned with their role and grew to detest M. They were always regarded differently by the others because of their cyborg status, and anyways, they had a lot of childhood trauma that never got touched on until later on in life. As a personal act of rebellion, Kestrel secretly defected to the Armada, giving away valuable intel including schematics of advanced Marleybonian tech and insight into how the spy system works there – they even helped to plant and create their own Armada spy ring in Her Majesty’s Secret Service. 

After a while of doing all that, it seemed Kestrel decided to just… one day disappear. Marleybone never found out about Kestrel’s betrayal, declaring him as MIA, and the Armada simply does not know where they went. In reality, after hearing about Nora and Valentina’s departure from the Armada, Kestrel decided she wanted to follow suit -- they just didn’t want anything to do with politics or world powers anymore. They never had a chance to grow up, instead being thrown directly in the army as a child and forced to grow up under the scrutiny eyes of others, without being able to make any decisions for herself -- Kestrel just got tired, yaknow, wanted a new start and a new life and everything, they wanted their own freedom and wanted to act however they want.

Using what little information they could gather with where Nora and Valentina could’ve gone, Kestrel eventually caught up with Nora and Quincy. Since then, the three of them have been traveling the skyways together 👍

[hercleverboy]

persistence

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ when spencer finds out that the reader has a stalker, he is determined to not let history repeat itself. 

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ stalker-like activity, death threats, few swear words, descriptions of blood, puking, spencer being kinda emotionally manipulative

word count ↠   8.2k

“Normality is a paved road. It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow.”-- Vincent Van Gogh

Y/N stared down at the letter in her hands.  Her fingers trembled, tears blurring her vision as she reread the words over and over.  Written in an ominous red ink, a chicken-scratch-like writing filled the page. 

‘If I can’t have you, no one can.’

*

It had all started two months ago. 

First, it was the dark blue Sedan that she began noticing sat across the street from her apartment complex. Of course it easily could’ve belonged to one of the many people who lived in the complex, or perhaps even a friend of theirs. At first, it went unnoticed by her. It was only when she started taking note of the hours it was parked there that she began to get slightly concerned. 

8am to 8pm. Every single day. 

Like clockwork. 

She’d peak through her living room curtains at 8am, and watch the car pull into its usual spot. It wouldn’t move all day but as soon as it struck 8pm, it left again- only to return the next day. 

However, ever the sceptic, she didn’t want to blow the situation out of proportion. Her mind came up with countless possibilities. The owner was staying with a friend who lived close by (but then why would the car not be there overnight?), or perhaps it was an plain-clothed officer doing some form of undercover work? Honestly, there was nothing she hadn’t considered. So while the presence of the unexplainable car was a little unnerving, it wasn’t enough to make her paranoid. 

The paranoia began when sheets of paper began being posted through her letterbox. They always came between the times that the blue car was parked outside, and had only a few words on each one that was delivered. 

‘I’ve been watching you, you know.’ 

‘You’re so beautiful.’ 

‘That boyfriend of yours, does he hold you like I did?’

‘Does he touch you like I did?’

Whilst they weren’t exactly threats, they were enough to set her skin alight. She was constantly looking over her shoulder, jumpy and paranoid. 

Spencer noticed it, too. 

He’d seen the subtle change in his girlfriend’s body language, but didn’t want to push her on the matter. He had asked once, but she’d reassured him that she was fine. So he decided that he’d let her confide in him when she was ready, but that didn’t mean that this change in behaviour didn’t make his heart ache. 

He was a profiler, one of the best, he knew the behavioural tells that signalled fear. 

So what was she so afraid of?

Then the phone calls started. 

Y/N heard the buzz of her phone, assuming it was Spencer calling. He was out of state on a case, but he always called to check up on her, or to notify her he was almost home. Although they didn’t live together yet, Spencer spent most of his spare time at her apartment. (He’d joked once that it was because her place was bigger than his, but really it was because his work took him away from her so often that he wanted to spend any spare minute he could with her.)

Reaching for the device, she frowned as she saw ‘Unknown Number’ flash across the screen. 

“Hello?”

Silence.

“Hello?”

and then she heard it. 

Heavy, husky breathing on the other end of the line. 

The caller didn’t speak. 

Unease filled her as she pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up. She placed her phone down beside her, biting down on her bottom lip as she attempted to rationalise what’d just happened. 

Probably a butt dial, or maybe even a wrong number? 

She pushed it to the back of her mind, distracting herself so that she wouldn’t have to confirm what she already knew was true. 

The second call came two days later. 

Spencer had returned earlier that day from an exhausting but overall successful case. He hadn’t even stopped by his place after landing, instead opting to go straight to Y/N’s apartment, unable to contain his excitement of seeing her for the first time in a week. 

He let himself in with the key she’d given him for their one year anniversary, as he quietly made his way into the home. He called out her name, announcing his presence so she’d know he was home.

When she didn’t come to greet him in the hallway, or even call back to let him know she’d heard him he frowned. He slipped off his shoes before moving down the hallway, his eyes finally landing on her figure in the living room. She was stood by the large window that overlooked the street below them, her phone pressed to her ear. Spencer took in her body language, noting how her shoulders were tensed, and how the hand not holding her phone was gripping tightly onto the curtains as she peaked between them. 

The unknown caller hung up, and Y/N looked down at her phone in her hand, eyes welling with tears- still unaware of Spencer’s presence behind her.  

“Y/N?” He asked quietly, trying not to startle her but still managing to. 

She shrieked, turning around to face him, relief filling her features as she saw the familiar sight of her boyfriend. She forced a smile on her lips and pushed her worries away, wiping the tears from her cheeks quickly and hoping he hadn’t already seen them. “Spence! God, I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you were home.” She chuckled. 

His frown only deepened as he moved toward her. “Is everything okay? Who was that on the phone?” 

Y/N’s breath hitched as she quickly came up with an excuse. “Oh, It was no-one.” She waved it off, hoping she’d played it off well enough to ease his worry. 

Once he reached her he put his arms around her, enveloping her in a tight hug, his arms around her waist. She sighed, hugging him back with her arms around his neck. 

He nuzzled his face into her neck, placing a kiss there that was so soft and delicate that it almost moved her to tears. “You know you can tell me anything, right? If something’s bothering you or worrying you then you don’t have to keep it to yourself. I’m here.” He whispered. 

“I know.” She whispered back, squeezing him gently to comfort herself. “Thank you.” 

Truth is, she knew she could tell Spencer what was happening. She knew that he would immediately inform his team, and with their wonderful minds and Garcia’s infinite systems, they’d have their unsub within days. So what was stopping her?

or more specifically, who was stopping her?

The answer would be Maeve, the woman that Spencer once loved, who he lost so suddenly and so tragically. She’d heard what had happened, and had comforted Spencer when he cried as he told her of the only other woman he’d ever loved, apart from Y/N. He’d confided in her about Maeve around four months into their relationship, and Y/N was grateful that Spencer trusted her enough to tell her such a thing. Losing the person you loved like that? Y/N couldn’t fathom it. Her heart ached for Spencer, and the heartbreak he’d endured.

She didn’t want to worry him over what might be nothing. After what happened with Maeve, she didn’t want to make him suffer all that again, to make him think that it was all happening again. She never wanted to be the reason for his hurt, and she knew that telling him is exactly what it would do- make him anxious, worried. She knew her boyfriend like the back of her hand. He’d go into overdrive trying to protect her, to prevent what happened to Maeve from happening to her. But still, she refused to be the one that set those events into motion. She knew it was stupid, he boyfriend was in the FBI- who are exactly the type of people you’d go to if you had a stalker. 

She had tried to tell him a few times but when she opened her mouth to say the words, nothing would come out. 

The final straw was the letters. 

The first one was pushed through her letterbox on a Friday afternoon. Spencer was at work, thankfully only on a paperwork day instead of being called for a case. There was no name or address on the front of the letter. 

She felt sick. Immediately she knew it was from him. At least she presumed it was a ‘he’, from the possessive tone of voice in the notes. 

She ripped it open, taking out the letter. It was a single sheet of paper, both sides filled with that chicken scratch writing. Her eyes skimmed over the words written before her, tears blurring her vision. It was a love letter. Her stalker even gave her a nickname, ‘Dove’. 

‘My darling dove, you were made for me.’

‘My love for you knows no bounds.’

‘You’ve got such a beautiful laugh, I’ve heard it.’

‘And your skin, so perfect, so soft looking. I’d love to run my fingers along your-’

Y/N let the letter drop to the floor as she felt the bile rise in her throat, dashing to the bathroom and throwing up her stomach contents in the toilet. 

She felt sickened. She couldn’t bring herself to read what was left of the letter, instead screwing it up and throwing it away. The words she had read haunted her, made her feel disgusting. She spent hours in the shower that night, as though she was scrubbing his filthy words off of her skin. 

The letters continued, and with each one, the comments became more and more repulsive. Instead of declaring his undying love for her, her stalker began to get enraged. With each letter he became increasingly angrier, and it shook Y/N to her core. 

‘You whore, I could hear your moaning for that little boyfriend of yours from across the street’

‘When I get my hands on you, you’ll be begging for me to show you mercy’

‘I’ve protected you, watched over you! I’ve taken care of you for months now and this is how you repay me?’

‘Fucking dirty slut. I’ll kill you for that.’

‘What a shame it would be for that pretty flesh to be torn so carelessly, but it seems I’ll have to teach you a lesson, dove.’

‘You’ve made a mistake, choosing him over me.’

All of those led to one final letter. 

Written in red ink, eight simple words with a sinister underlying message. 

‘If I can’t have you, no one can.’

*

Dropping the paper as though it had burned her, she desperately tried to slow the breaths that were increasing rapidly, willing the air to fill her lungs. 

The realisation hit her like a freight train. 

She was in danger, real danger. Now that her life had been threatened, she knew she couldn’t hide it any longer. 

No matter the consequences, she had to come clean to Spencer. 

She scrambled around her apartment, grabbing any evidence she had in the form of letters/threats and made sure she had her phone so she could show them the phone calls from an unknown number. 

She glanced out the window to the street below. It was only midday, and she could see the familiar blue Sedan parked opposite her complex. She just had to get to her car safely, which should be a relatively easy task, given the numerous people who were walking down the bustling street- the perks of living on a main road. 

She made it to her car thankfully unscathed, locking the doors behind her. She didn’t dare look across the road at the car, afraid of what, or who she would see.  As she drove to the BAU, she anxiously tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. She anticipated what Spencer’s reaction was going to be- he’d be angry, definitely. Y/N was torn, she wanted to stand by the decision she’d made two months prior to not involve her boyfriend with what was going on, but now she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d made a poor choice. If she’d have told Spencer earlier, things would’ve been resolved. But by telling him the truth, she couldn’t help but ponder if she was putting him or his team in danger. 

Shaking her head clear the thoughts, she pulled into the car park that was next to the building. Taking a few deep breaths, she grabbed her bag and headed toward the buildings’ entrance. Her palms were sweaty and her throat was dry. What the hell was she going to say? ‘Hey Spence, I have a stalker who’s threatening to kill me that I neglected to tell you about, how’s your day going?’

After being granted access at the front desk, she was given a visitors badge and headed up to the sixth floor of the building. As she stood alone in the elevator, she tried to take a few breaths, feeling the familiar clawing at the back of her throat that indicated she was close to breaking down. She’d been holding it together for so long, been so fucking scared for so long. 

As soon as the doors opened she was greeted with the smiling face of one Penelope Garcia. 

When Spencer and her had begun dating he brought Y/N along to one of Rossi’s pasta nights and the whole team immediately took a liking to her, especially after seeing how happy she made Spencer. However Penelope in particular absolutely adored Y/N, and the two had even hung out together a few times. 

Garcia gasped with a grin as the doors opened. “My sweet Y/N! I got the notification that you’d checked in downstairs and thought I’d come greet you!” She moved toward her, hugging Y/N tightly. “Are you here to see our boy wonder? He’s around here somewhere-” She pulled back when she noticed the tenseness in Y/N’s shoulders. When Garcia met her teary eyes she gasped at the sight. “What’s wrong?” 

Y/N finally let the tears tremble down her cheeks, reaching into her bag to grab the handfuls of threating letters from the person who’d made her life hell for two long months. She handed them to Garcia, who after years of working that job knew from the first few words what they were dealing with. 

Y/N met her worried eyes. “It’s bad, Penny. Really bad.”

Garcia nodded, shocked but still placing a comforting arm on Y/N’s back. “Reid- He never mentioned-” 

Y/N shook her head. “I didn’t tell him. I didn’t want him to worry over nothing but- this is the first time he’s threatened my life and I’m scared, Pen. I’m really scared.” 

Garcia burst into action, coaxing Y/N with gentle words to head into the bullpen. As soon as they walked through the glass doors, all of the team member’s heads turned toward them. Spencer’s eyes immediately fell on his girlfriend’s tear stained cheeks and within seconds he was by her side. 

“Y/N, what’s going on? Are you okay?” 

She shook her head, moving forward and wrapping her arms around him. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her, holding her to him as she cried into his chest, her shoulders shaking as she let out everything she’d buried so deep inside. 

He looked over at Garcia, bewildered. She simply walked up to Hotch’s office. The team could faintly hear Garcia presenting him with the papers Y/N had brought with her, explaining what she had told her when she arrived. 

Minutes later Hotch came out of his office, walking down into the bullpen to where the team all looked at one another, confusion on their features. 

“Y/N?” He asked as he approached her, and she pulled back from spencer to see him, wiping her tear stained cheeks. “You’re gonna need to tell us everything. You may be in immediate danger.”

Y/N nodded and Hotch headed off toward the round table room, Garcia scurrying in behind him. The rest of the team, with concerned glances to one another, followed into the room. This left Y/N and Spencer alone in the bullpen. 

She felt Spencer gripping her hand, squeezing gently. Worry laced in his tone, he moved to stand before her and locked onto her eyes. “Please tell me what’s going on.” 

Y/N nodded and cleared her throat, her voice quiet with shame as she spoke. “I have a stalker. He sends letters, calls just to breathe down the line and scare me. In his recent letter, he said he’s gonna kill me.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, his hand dropping from hers and he turning and stalked toward the board room. He had to see the evidence for himself. 

He reached the room and the groups gazes all shifted to him, but he could’ve cared less. He reached out for one of the sheets of paper, eyes quickly scanning over the threatening words as Y/N entered the room behind him. 

“When did this start, Y/N?” JJ asked, that caring, motherly tone present in her voice. 

“About two months ago.” 

“Did you notice anything odd about the neighbourhood beforehand? Cars that weren’t normally there, people stood on street corners at odd times of day?” Derek queried, his eyes scanning over some of the notes she’d received. 

She nodded. “There was a car I noticed, right at the start. I didn’t think much of it until I started taking note of the timings. It would sit there all day, but be gone overnight. Then it would return the next day.” 

“Do remember the colour, or make of car?” 

“Yeah, a dark blue Sedan. Then a few days later the phone calls started.”

“Garcia I need you to run through Y/N’s phone records, see if you can trace the number they were calling from.” Hotch ordered and Garcia quickly left the room, heading to her bat cave. 

“Here, listen to this.” JJ started, holding up one of the first letters. “I’m doing this because I love you, pretty dove. So very much. It’s okay, you’ll see.” She looked up to her team. “He’s planning something.” 

Hotch turned his attention to her. “Y/N’s safety is our primary concern. This unsub seems to have fixated on her, for whatever reason. Y/N, do you have any ex boyfriends or enemies we need to know about?” 

“I have five ex’s, but I don’t think any of them would be capable of this.” She reasoned, but there was a seed of doubt in the back of her mind. 

At her words, Spencer stood up, slamming the letters down on the table with an audible thud before leaving the room. Y/N stared after him hopelessly, Hotch clearing his throat before speaking again. 

“I’ll need a list of their names.” 

Derek piped up. “We also need to know locations of spots that you frequent, anywhere you may have met this guy. Coffee shops, restaurants, even the library. No detail is too small, okay?” 

Y/N nodded, turning back to stare out the door that Spencer had stormed out of moments before. “I’m just going to go check on him.” She murmured, earning an apologetic smile from JJ. 

* 

She found him outside the building, sat on one of the stone steps of the staircase that led up to the buildings entrance. He had his head in his hands, trying to calm down the thoughts that sped through his overworking mind. 

She sat beside him, draping his coat that she’d grabbed from his desk over his shoulders to combat the cold winter air. “You’ll catch a cold.” She muttered, offering a small smile as he looked over at her. Despite how he felt, he let the smallest of smiles find its way onto his lips at the comment. She had a stalker threatening her life and she was worried about him catching a cold?

They sat in silence for a little before Y/N broke it. “I’m so sorry, Spencer.” 

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault.” He mumbled, looking out to the street, watching people walk by. When Y/N didn’t answer, he spoke again. “You could’ve told me, you know?”

“I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t.” She whispered sincerely. 

“Why didn’t you say something, Y/N? I would’ve dropped everything to make sure you were safe.” He promised, trying to make his voice sound strong, but failing as it cracked with his words. 

“I didn’t think it was important. He wasn’t threatening at the start, and I thought I could handle it.” Now the words were leaving her mouth, she knew she sounded stupid. 

“You didn’t think it was important?” Spencer repeated back to her, his breaths heavy as he failed to understand her reasoning. “Y/N you are the most important thing in the world to me. Okay? Please tell me you know that.” He turned his body toward her. 

“I know. I know and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. It’s just I know- after everything that happened before with Maeve-“ She paused for a moment. “I didn’t want to worry you over nothing.”

His breath hitched when she said Maeve’s name, and Y/N could almost see him replaying the moment he lost her in his mind. The curse of an eidetic memory. 

“I’m not going to let that happen to you- no, not you. Never you.” He sniffed, reaching over to take her hand in his. 

She nodded, tears filling her eyes once more. She cuddled into his side, her head dropping on his shoulder. She sniffled. “I’m scared, Spencer.” 

“It’s okay. He’s not coming anywhere near you, Y/N. I swear to you, he’s not going to hurt you. Not while I’m here.” He brought her hand up and pressed a kiss to the back of it. 

*

Over the next few days, the team spent hours analysing ever piece of evidence Y/N had received, and Garcia went through tons of security footage, trying to get a good look at whoever was in the blue Sedan. She’d ran the license plates, but they’d come back as being fake, so that had been a pretty dead end, and the phone number she’d traced had come from a payphone, so there was no lead there either. 

Spencer was evidently over-working himself, not taking breaks from work to eat or sleep. He reread the words a hundred times, desperately looking for what it was he must’ve missed. He was filled with this overwhelming need to protect her, to keep Y/N safe. To succeed where he’d failed previously. He couldn’t afford to make the same mistake he’d made with Maeve. He’d let his emotions cloud his judgement and it cost Maeve her life. He wouldn’t make that same mistake again. 

There wasn’t time for that, not when Y/N was in danger. 

Y/N spent most of her time alongside Spencer at the BAU, mostly because he insisted that she was somewhere he could keep an eye on her at all times. She only went home in the evenings so she could change and sleep in her own bed, but always with a police escort that Spencer had himself done a thorough background check on and knew could be trusted. 

Eventually, It had been an entire week. Spencer had only had a handful of sleep, only when the exhaustion became too much did he pass out and actually get a few hours of sleep before he was right back at it. Members of the team who attempted to gently voice their concern for him received a scowl in response, with Y/N even trying to get through to him, but he just shrugged her off. Ultimately, Hotch had to pull him aside to talk. 

Hotch walked into the room where Y/N sat reading silently in the corner while Spencer’s eyes ran over the words he’d already read a hundred times. 

“Reid, Can I speak to you?” 

Spencer’s head snapped up, pissed that he was being interrupted from the task before him. He grunted under his breath, standing up and walking out of the room. 

Hotch brought Spencer up to his office, closing the door behind them so there was some dilution to the raised voices that were definitely going to come from this conversation. He sighed, turning to face the younger man and crossing his arms. “The Bureau don’t want us using any more of our time on this case. The unsub has been inactive for a week, and we have other cases building up that take priority.” 

Spencer scoffed. “You want us to stop? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m afraid not. The order came from above me, I have no power here. The best we can do for now is send Y/N home with police protection until this guy resurfaces.” 

“You wanna send her home? No way, Hotch! There’s some son of a bitch after her and you want her to be at home?” He was angrier than Hotch had seen him be in a long while. 

Hotch sighed. “Reid. It’s out of my hands. I recognise how hard this is for you, but we have no choice.”

“But I- I can’t protect her if she’s not with me! I can’t keep her safe.” His tone changed from angry to more of a begging. “Please, Hotch. There’s got to be something you can do.”

“I’m sorry.”

Spencer huffed, his anger returning. “Bullshit! You know as well as I do that she’s vulnerable as soon as she leaves here. Police presence or not, if something happens to her-” 

Hotch shot him a warning look, which made Spencer stop mid-sentence.

“You’re done with this case for now, understand? Until he resurfaces, we have other priorities.” Hotch spoke. Spencer scoffed, walking and brushing past his unit chief. “That’s an order, Reid.” He warned. 

Spencer ignored him, heading back to the room he’d left Y/N in, his mind refocused on getting back to his previous task-  despite Hotch’s orders. 

He stepped into the room, slamming the door closed behind him, earning a surprised squeak from Y/N, who still sat in the corner with her book in hand. He looked over at her, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “He wants you to go home, and we have to put the case on hold because we have others to work on. Can you believe that? How could he ask that of me?” He laughed humourlessly as Y/N shut her book, placing it next to her. 

She sighed, standing, knowing he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What?” 

It was just the protective side of him coming out, and at first Y/N thought it was endearing, but he couldn’t neglect his own needs to favour hers any more. She wouldn’t let him. 

“Spencer, you gotta stop this. I know how hard you’re working, and I’m so grateful, but you’re killing yourself here.” Her voice was gentle, hoping she’d be able to appeal to him. 

“No! No Y/N I’m not stopping until we get this guy, until you’re safe.” He snapped. 

“You heard what Hotch said, you have other cases that need to take priority.” She moved toward him, still trying to reason with him. She was still scared to death, and she didn’t particularly want to leave Spencer’s side- after all he made her feel safe. But there were people who needed him and his team, and if she was no longer in imminent danger, his talents were needed elsewhere. It made her feel sick, but it’s the way it was. They were just going to have to wait for this guy to make his next move. 

“But Y/N, you are my priority. Don’t you get that?” He asked, moving back as she came toward him. The motion hurt her, so she stood still. 

“I do, I promise you I do, but there’s people out there who need that beautiful mind of yours more than I do right now.” 

He scoffed. “So you just expect me to give up?” 

“Of course not, but Hotch is right. What if this guy never makes any other moves? What if he just wanted to scare me? You can’t waste your time. It’s too valuable.” 

“And what if the second you walk out of those doors he gets you?” Spencer shouted, his arms coming out by his sides to exaggerate his point. 

“Then you’ll find me. If that happened, which is a worse-case scenario, I have faith that you and this team would find me and bring me home.” 

“And if I can’t? If I fail, again? If I have to watch you die like I watched-” His breath hitched, his voice catching. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “No, No. I will not lose you, do you understand? I will not stop looking for this son of a bitch, not ever. I’m not letting you go home, Y/N. I’m sorry, that’s final.” 

“Spencer, you can’t keep me here. You’d be disobeying Hotch’s direct orders-” 

He shook his head. “I’m not having this conversation with you, Y/N. I’ll talk to Hotch, change his mind. Just- stay here. Please.”  The last word was quiet and pleading, a stark contrast from the tone he was using before. He picked up the evidence files he was going through and walked away, feet stomping as his anger still radiated off of him. 

* 

Y/N had stood there for a minute, collecting herself before she took a shaky deep breath, bringing her hand up to wipe the tears that trickled down her cheeks. 

She walked out to the bullpen, ignoring how Spencer had asked her to stay. Her eyes met Derek’s who offered her an apologetic smile. 

“Hey.” He called out to her as she passed by. “Whatever the kid said, he didn’t mean it. He just wants to keep you safe.” 

She gave a sad smile. “I know. Um, is it alright if I just step out the front for some air? I’m feeling a little boxed in.” 

“Sure thing. I’ll keep you company, make sure you get back alright.” He stood up from his desk chair, grabbing his jacket and accompanying her downstairs. 

When they got there Y/N turned to him. “Is it alright if I have a moment alone? I’ll stay where you can see me, I just need a minute.” 

Derek was hesitant, but nodded. She pushed open the doors, out into the cold night. She remained stood by the front doors, where they bright lights from indoors seeped outside, lighting up the pavement. She took a few deep breaths, letting the cold air fill her lungs, hoping it’ll help alleviate the stinging pain in her heart. She looked up at the sky, willing herself to keep her tears at bay. She appreciated what Spencer was doing, and adored his instinct to protect her, keep her safe. She knew how stubborn he could be at times, but now she thought about it, maybe when she sided with Hotch earlier it made it seem like she didn’t have his back, which was certainly not the case. 

Derek watched as Y/N collected herself, seeing that she was about to turn and come back inside. Suddenly someone bumped into his side, his attention turning from Y/N to the person who collided with him. He looked over to see a young man he didn’t recognise. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going. My apologies.” The man apologised before walking off. 

Derek furrowed his brow, before turning back to look outside. 

Y/N wasn’t there. 

He bolted forward toward the doors, flinging them open and looking left and right for any sight of her. 

She was long gone. And so was whoever took her. 

Hearing a crinkle beneath his feet, Derek looked down at the sound, noticing a scrap piece of newspaper on the floor where Y/N had been stood. 

He picked it up, unfolding the paper. On it, written in the familiar blood red chicken scratch was the same threatening message Y/N had received before. 

‘If I can’t have her, no one can.’ 

* 

Derek placed the paper down on the roundtable, that the team was now gathered around, shock and worry on their faces. 

Hotch closed his eyes with a sigh as he looked at the paper, guilt rushing over him. Just then Spencer came into the room, immediately picking up on the mood that had settled over the team. 

“What’s’‘-” His eyes landed on the message, the realisation spreading over his features. “Where’s Y/N?” He asked, a sort of denial in his voice. 

“He has her.” Derek confirmed, bowing his head down in shame that he hadn’t protected her like he was supposed to. 

“Morgan, What happened? You took her out to get some air and then what?” Emily asked, trying to establish where it’d gone wrong. 

“I took my eyes off of her for a minute, some guy bumped into me and it distracted me, and when I looked back she was gone.” 

Emily’s mouth opened as she connected the dots. “It must’ve been a distraction, one guy bumps into you so that you take your eyes off of her while the other guy grabs her.” 

“So what, we’re looking for a partner here as well?” JJ posed, looking up at her team. 

“It would seem so. He waited for his opportunity, and when it came he took it.” Rossi chimed in. 

“This is now an active investigation, we have a missing woman who’s already been gone for nearly an hour. We’ve got to work fast.” Hotch ordered, which sent the team out of their seats, each with a task assigned to them. However, Spencer still sat in one of the chairs, trembling fingers trailing over the words before him. The air in the room seemed thinner, his lungs working harder to fill themselves. 

“Reid? Reid.” Morgan tried, but all he got from Spencer was little incoherent mumbles. 

Finally, he looked up to meet Morgan’s eyes, the words he’d been whispering falling from his lips in a more audible whimper. “He’s gonna kill her.”  He choked on his words, the realisation crashing down on him. “I’m going to lose her too.” 

* 

Time was a precious thing. 

Spencer had never been more aware of how quickly the seconds passed than he was at that moment. 

He was on his knees, hunched over the toilet, hands gripping the sides in a vice-like grip, desperately trying to push down the nauseating feeling creeping its way up his throat. After the note that Morgan found, Spencer had rushed into the toilets, standing over the toilet bowl as he dry-heaved, holding himself back from being sick. He took heavy breaths, eyes screwing shut as he tried to think of anything other than the danger that Y/N was in. 

He tried so hard to ignore the familiarity of the situation. 

The thought set in motion a memory that he’d much rather forget, one that he pushed so far back in his mind so he could deny it had ever happened, that he’d ever allowed it to happen. 

Ultimately, it was the curse of his brilliant memory, having the ability to perfectly recall things that happened years before. 

As if he could ever forget that day, eidetic memory or not. 

“Diane, Diane, there’s still a way out of this.” 

“You never wanted me. Never! You lied!”

Diane has her arm around Maeve, gun pointed at her head. The bullet she’d shot into Spencer’s shoulder felt numb, the scorching pain felt irrelevant to the fear spiking his heart. 

“I didn’t. Diane, I offered you a deal and you can still take it. Me for her. Let me take her place.” His eyes lock on Maeve’s, so full of fear, and he tries to reassure that she’ll be fine- because he knows she will. How many times has he talked down an unsub waving a gun around? She would be okay, she had to be. 

“You would do that?” 

“Yes.” 

“You would kill yourself for her?” 

“Yes.” 

Of course he would. In a heartbeat. 

“Thomas Merton.” 

Maeve’s voice was small but sure. What scared Spencer the most was how certain she sounded, as though she’d accepted that this was her fate; her end. 

“Who’s Thomas Merton?”

“He knows.” 

She loved him. And he loved her. Oh how bittersweet. 

“Who’s Thomas Merton, who is he?” 

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us.” 

Its only a moment’s hesitation, a moment that he should’ve reached for a gun, a moment where he should’ve taken his shot. 

“No.” Diane scowled. 

Time is a precious thing.

and Maeve’s was up.

“Wait-” 

The shot still rung clear in Spencer’s ears, a sound he was sure he would hear for the rest of his days. His breaths were heaving again, his eyes flying open as he willed the image of Maeve’s body to leave his head. But when his eyes screwed shut again, it was someone else in her place. 

It wasn’t Maeve’s body on the floor anymore. Instead, in her place lay Y/N, blood gushing from the open wound at the side of her head, her lifeless body cold against the concrete floor. 

That’s the thought that made him sick, throwing up into the toilet at the thought of watching Y/N die the same way he watched Maeve. 

Taking gasping breaths, he sat back against the side of the cubicle, hands running down his flustered face, feeling the streaks of tears that trembled down his cheeks. 

He shook his head, as if that would erase the horrific thoughts swimming around. He reminded himself that Y/N was still alive, and they had no reason as of yet to believe that she wasn’t. It was that thought that made him pull himself to stand, raking his hands through his hair and trying to calm his quivering hands. 

Y/N was still out there, waiting for him to save her. 

He grit his teeth together as he walked out of the toilets. 

He wouldn’t hesitate this time. He was not going to lose her. 

*

He walked back into the roundtable room, ignoring the looks he received from the team. They had been bouncing theories off of one another, trying to use their profile to figure out who their unsub was, and where they would’ve taken Y/N. 

“Is it possible a woman is our unsub, or perhaps even the partner?” Emily posed, her eyes scanning over one of the letters. 

Derek shook his head. “I don’t think a woman would use language like this, it’s very derogatory, it exerts a power over Y/N.” 

The team fell quiet in thought, only interrupted when Garcia came scurrying in, her laptop in her hands. “You’ll never guess what I just found!”

Everyone looked up to her, Hotch speaking. “What is it, Garcia?” 

“I looked over the list of Y/N’s exes, and only one of them jumped out to me as a little suspicious. So I did some digging.” She tapped a few keys on her laptop before grabbing her remote and  broadcasting to the team what she’d found on the TV. “Daniel ‘Danny’ Stone, 29, dated Y/N three years ago. He was her last boyfriend before she met Reid.”

“Three years? You don’t think he’s still bitter about the relationship ending?” Emily asked, confused. 

“Three years is a long time. Why surface now?” JJ chimed. 

“Reid, did Y/N ever mention her previous relationship ending on a rough note?” Rossi asked, turning to face the younger boy. 

Spencer frowned. “She said the breakup was a little rocky, but nothing awful. The last time she spoke about him was a few months ago, said he got in some sort of accident?” He looked to Garcia for confirmation, and she nodded. 

“Indeed. Stone was involved in a road collision four months ago.” 

JJ hummed, looking through the medical reports on her iPad. “Says here he suffered brain damage, specifically to his pre-frontal cortex.” 

“Well that would explain why this stalker seemingly came from nowhere. People who suffer damage like this are impulsive, unable to make rational choices.” Derek posed. 

“So what’s the theory here? He wakes up after this accident, and because of his injury chooses to track down his ex? Three years after they break up?”

Morgan shook his head. “It isn’t a choice. Not anymore. He has to do it. He’s become fixated on her. He knows she’s with Reid, and like he said, If he can’t have her, the neither can Reid.”

“Okay, but why stalk her? What does he gain from that? Instead of just taking her and getting what he really wants?” Emily questioned. 

“This newfound impulsivity would make him a risk-taker. He’ll do things that the average person wouldn’t dream of trying. But it’s unlikely that Stone actually staked out Y/N’s home, or delivered the letters to her door. He wouldn’t have the self-control to span this out over months. He just pulled the strings.” 

“So that was his partner, then.” JJ deduced, earing nods from the team. “Then  what does the partner gain from this? Why help Stone?” 

“Maybe Stone manipulated them. Perhaps he has some form of information on them he’s using as blackmail?” 

“Did you get an address on Stone, Garcia?” Hotch asked, and Garcia nodded enthusiastically. 

“You know I did, It’s already been sent to your phones.” 

“Alright, let’s go.” 

The team all stood, heading for the doors. Spencer was quick to get up and follow, hope sparking in him now that they had an address. He was just about to leave the room when Hotch’s voice stopped him. 

“Reid, you know I can’t let you come with us.” His voice was firm, he knew there could be no room for error here. Not after what happened last time. 

“Like hell you can’t.” Reid snapped, turning around to face him. He’d regret his smart mouth later when Hotch undoubtedly told him off for it, but at that moment who couldn’t have cared less. 

“We will get her and bring her home, but you can’t be involved in this. It’s a conflict of interest, you know that.” 

“Oh, so it wasn’t a conflict of interest when you went after Foyet?” 

It was a cheap shot, one that Spencer really regretted the second he said it, but amends could be made later. 

Hotch’s face didn’t falter, despite the petty jab. “Yeah, and look where that got me.” 

Spencer’s defesnive stance dropped, his arms falling by his sides. “Hotch. You were there when when Maeve died. Do you remember it?” 

“Of course.” 

“Not like I do. I can see every second of it every time I close my eyes. I can’t go through that again. I almost didn’t make it out the other side, If it happened again I don’t know if I could cope-” He stopped, his voice catching in his throat. “Just- Please.”

Hotch grunted, giving in. “Fine, but you can’t allow your emotions to cloud your thinking. I know it will be difficult but I need your head to be in this.Y/N’s life depends on it.” 

Spencer nodded and they headed down toward the SUV’s. 

*

They pulled up to the address, lights blaring and sirens sounding. They all quickly jumped out and regrouped, strapping their kevlar vests to their chests as they moved. They were stood in front of an abandoned apartment complex, one that had ben uninhabited for years. 

 “Alright Morgan, Prentiss I want you to go around the back, find a way in through there, see if you can find this partner of his. JJ, Rossi and Reid you’re with me. ” Hotch ordered, as they all drew their guns and prepared to head in. 

As they stealthily walked through the building, they listened for any noise that indicated where the unsub was. Hotch, who was leading the group, pushed open a door to the staircase, and they were about to head up when they heard a bang coming from the floor below them. 

They headed down the stairs, seeing that they were entering the buildings basement. They rounded the corner, guns at the ready, and stepping into a small boiler room. 

In the centre of the room, Daniel stood. He held a struggling Y/N to his chest, his arm around her neck and gun placed at her temple. 

Spencer recalled how it the sight was all too familiar, how Diane had held Maeve the same way. 

Daniel’s voice broke him from his thoughts. “If you step any closer, she dies.” 

“Okay, okay. We’ll stay back, but I need you to put down the gun.” Hotch tried, shooting a look over his shoulder to Spencer, a look that told him to stay put. 

Daniel shook his head. “No. You’re going to ruin everything!”

“Ruin what?” JJ asked. 

“My chance do what’s right. Y/N doesn’t want me. But I love her, can’t she see that? I would do anything for her, and still she would choose him over me?” Daniel’s eyes moved to meet with Spencer’s, narrowing. 

“Daniel, we know what you went through. We know about your accident, how you’ve felt so out of control since, but if you come with us we can get you the help you need.” Rossi was next to attempt to convince him, but to no avail.

“No- No!” Daniel scowled, clenching his teeth as his gaze fixated on Spencer, who’s eyes were locked with Y/N’s, trying to silently reassure her that she was going to be okay. “She’s mine. I protected her, I’ve looked out for her. She’s finally going to understand.” He looked down at Y/N, his grip on her tightening, causing her to let out a frightened yelp. 

Spencer gulped, tearing his gaze from Y/N and onto the unsub, putting on a strong and unbothered facade. He wouldn’t let himself be clouded by his emotions, not this time. “You’re right. You kept her safe, and I’m very grateful that you protected her when I failed to.”

“Thats right. You failed her. I’m so much better for her.” He seethed through his teeth. “ And that’s why, if she won’t chose me, she’ll have to die with me.”

“You don’t want to do that, Daniel. Put down the gun. We’ll bring you in, and if you tell us all about this partner of yours, we’ll tell everyone that you co-operated.” JJ suggested, her gun still aimed up at him. 

“Why are you doing this?” Y/N gasped out, still struggling against his hold. 

“Because if I can’t have you, the neither can he. No, No.” He grinned, bringing the gun up to his his own head. From where it was angled, the bullet would pass through his own head, and lodge itself in Y/N’s too. “You’re mine, Y/N.” 

This time, Spencer didn’t hesitate. 

One single gunshot. 

Daniel collapsed to the floor, a bullet between his eyes. 

Y/N fell to the ground with him in a fit of sobs, scrambling to get away from the man who lay dead on the floor, the pool of blood growing around him.  

Spencer holstered his gun, immediately surging forward to wrap a trembling Y/N up in his arms. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you, you’re safe.” He cooed, rubbing a hand on her back in a soothing manner. 

She sobbed into his chest as he held her, tears forming in his own eyes at the sound of her cries. But Spencer allowed himself a moment to breathe, looking over Y/N’s shoulder at the man he’d just shot without hesitation. 

And he’d wouldn’t be losing any sleep over it, either.  

He tightened his arms around her, thankful that she was safe. He brought her up to stand, his arms still tight around her. He looked toward his teammates, nodding gratefully at them as he walked Y/N out of the building. As he passed, he overheard JJ and Hotch’s conversation. 

“Emily and Morgan found the partner fleeing out the back. They say he’s agreed to talk.” 

With an internal sigh of relief, he held Y/N closer as they stepped out the doors of the building, guiding her toward the medical staff so she could be checked for injuries, despite how she told him she was fine. After it was concluded that she’d come out pretty unscathed, with only a few cuts and bruises, Spencer came and sat down next to her. She smiled weakly up at him, and he knew it would take a while for her usual bright smile to return, but she was alive- and right then that was all that mattered. 

He immediately took her hand in his, gripping it tightly. 

“Is it over?” She asked quietly, and he nodded. 

“Yeah, they got the partner, and he’s going to co-operate in return for a reduced sentence, but he’ll still be going away for a long time.”

She nodded, her head dropping onto his shoulder. “Thank you so much, Spencer. You saved me.” She whispered. 

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m sorry about the argument we had, I was being a jerk. I just wanted to protect you, but in the end you still ended up getting hurt.” He frowned, looking down at the gravel ground. 

“It’s okay, I understand. I’m sorry you had to relive all of this again, I can’t imagine how difficult that must’ve been for you.” She sighed, guilt overwhelming her. 

“Hey, no. You’re safe, that’s all that matters.” He promised and she nodded against him. 

Giving her hand a squeeze, he turned slightly to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. 

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.” 

[gaddaboutgriffon]

Ok @hdgnj I like the code names for Danny as Alley-cat and Ellie as Stray-cat. I propose that Jazz’s code name be House-cat. She does the planning but stays home.

Sam may officially get adopted by Selina but she spends way more time with her personal idol Poison Ivy. I can see her taking on a name like Hemlock.

Tucker I don’t think would leave his home but would keep in touch remotely through tech. He became the Cat family’s version of Oracle. Maybe his name can be Meme-cat or Nyan.

Dan could be rehabilitated in this. He may have pulled himself out of the time stream by putting clockwork’s medallion in Danny, but let’s pretend that as the time line changes it affects his memory and personality. Anyway if he gets added to the family I vote he is named Feral-cat. Or because he is a time paradox he could get the nickname Schrödinger.

Selina Kyle decides to surprise her sister with a visit after a long time of being apart. However it's not long after she gets there that she realizes just how obsessive Maddie has become. It's to the point where she is even neglecting her children. Looks like Selina's taking a page out of big bat's book and adopting a couple of strays.

[confinedmadness]

ChroNoiR Moments I Love

I did not include anything from videos linked in my post on favorite ChroNoiR collabs.

I included moments where ChroNoiR isn’t together but the two of them are talked about or have some sort of interaction.

I included habits or things that both of them do repetitively.

Keeping this at 10 because if I don’t put a limit, I’ll end up linking every single video where ChroNoiR is so much as mentioned.

★ Kanae Immediately Understanding Kuzuha’s Message

This is from the 2019-08-18 Project Winter collab with Sasaki, Lize, Ange, Fairys, Tsukasa, Shiina, Kuzuha, and Kanae. Most of the time, when talking about ChroNoiR in this collab, people mention the match where both of them were traitors and perfectly coordinated to win. 

While that was great and exciting, my personal favorite ChroNoiR moment in this collab is when Kuzuha chilled Shiina, and Kanae, who saw that, immediately understood that Kuzuha was trying to tell them Shiina was a traitor. From Kanae’s POV, this is around 40:30, while in Kuzuha’s POV, this is around 40:45.

If you watch from Kuzuha’s POV, you can also listen to him just praising Kanae and saying how he knew if anyone were to understand it would be Kanae.

★ Kuzuha’s Perfect Kanae Impersonation

This is from a PUBG collab with Ran, Sentan, Kuzuha, and Akabane. When Kuzuha comments that the others’ impersonations of Kanae were off, they ask Kuzuha for an example of what a good Kanae impersonation would be. Kuzuha delivers with what is now one of his memorable lines 「SE方面敵いるよ葛葉」(”Kuzuha, there’s an enemy in the SE direction”), and the other three, as well as the comment section, erupt in excitement over it. It’s around 52:45 in Baneki’s video.

Later, in the last ChroNoiR.tv episode, Kanae says the same line at around 15:00 as Kuzuha and the comment section note that they’re finally hearing the real version. Kanae even includes the “kyaaaaaaaaa” reaction from the original collab above.

(Note: Kanae actually says 「方向」while Kuzuha said「方面」but the phrase means basically the same thing.)

★ Kuzuha Talks About Kanae Tweeting a Formal Apology

In his solo stream, one of the topics Kanae talked about with his viewers were gropers and their victims. Unfortunately, some people interpreted part of his words negatively, so Kanae took down the archived video later on and also posted an apology on twitter.

Kuzuha, in his own stream , laughed when he saw Kanae’s apology, saying that he’s sure it’s because Kanae said something easy to misunderstand again. (Timestamp: 11:20:38) When his own viewers explained what caused the buzz, Kuzuha said that he can’t believe this is what the VTuber world has come to, and says that if the internet pitchfork mob is after Kanae for something like this, then they should come for him as well.

Personally, I thought it was really nice that Kanae tried to understand why it isn’t easy for victims to call for help. Yes, he did say he couldn’t understand why they couldn’t do something that seems easy, but it’s also true that he discussed these and listened to his viewers’ explanations with what I thought was a very genuine desire to understand. A Japanese viewer even commented that as a victim, she was glad Kanae had this conversation. 

★ Kuzuha Blaming Kanae for Something He Said

Kuzuha mentions in his solo stream (1:03:03) that his image of guys who play guitar are those who like hitting women. Upon realizing that he said something that could be taken negatively, he immediately backtracks and puts the blame on Kanae saying, “it was Kanae who told me that, but he probably won’t remember.” (Kanae’s character is someone who supposedly has amnesia)

In Kanae’s solo stream (26:05), his own viewers let him know about what Kuzuha said. Kanae only said that “if Kuzuha says that I said so then maybe I did, but I don’t remember”.

At the end of their ChroNoiR Donkey Kong stream (2:05:55), as Kuzuha jokingly blames Kanae for various things again, Kanae brings up the guitarist line blamed on him. As Kuzuha emphasizes that Kanae is currently confused and asks him to talk to his lawyer, Kanae responds with a threat to sue him and the stream ends with Kanae saying “see you at court”. This last interaction was especially funny for me.

★ ChroNoiR Introducing Themselves as Each Other

In ChroNoiR collabs, Kuzuha and Kanae frequently introduce themselves as each other. I just find it cute, especially when they both make fun of each other during the impersonation.

In one of these instances, Kanae tries mimicking Kuzuha’s introduction line but accidentally says 「ヴァンパイア吸血鬼葛葉です」 (Literally “I’m vampire vampire Kuzuha”) instead of the actual 「吸血鬼VTuber葛葉です」(”I’m vampire VTuber Kuzuha”). Unfortunately, I can’t find the original stream when he said that.

In an ARK collab (7:20:15), when Kanae successfully introduces himself as Kuzuha with the correct introduction, Kuzuha notes that he got it right this time. More recently, during their 2020 Christmas collab (0:27), Kanae once again introduces himself as Kuzuha using the wrong version (this time seemingly on purpose).

★ Kuzuha is 7 Hours Late; Kanae Gets Strawberry Au Lait

At their 2018 Christmas collab, Kuzuha is 7 hours late to their agreed meeting time (1:35). Later on (6:20), when Kanae says that wants one of the 3 cups of strawberry au lait that Kuzuha has, Kuzuha didn’t want to give one to him but relented in the end because Kanae reminds him that he was late. Because of this, Kanae is sometimes referred to as “the man who forgave 7 hours of lateness with a cup of strawberry au lait”.

★ Kanae Praising Kuzuha’s Singing

Kuzuha mentioned before that he doesn’t like singing in front of other people because of a previous experience where someone he called “Mysterious Mushroom Man” corrected his singing while they were in karaoke. So I actually love the times when either Kuzuha or Kanae mention that they went to karaoke together. 

My favorite is this moment in one of their Apex collabs where Kanae mentions this one song Kuzuha sang in karaoke that he considers his favorite among the songs Kuzuha sings. Kuzuha admits that he was happy to hear Kanae tell him his singing was good, and that he ended up singing that same song a lot in karaoke since then. It’s around 1:38:10 in Kanae’s POV and around 1:36:14 in Kuzuha’s POV.

★ Kuu-chan and Kanakana

Kanae sometimes calls Kuzuha “Kuu-chan” in order to tease him. This happened more often early in their careers, but still happens every now and then. Aside from the cute name, there is also the fact that Kuzuha will always reply with「やめろその呼び方」(”Don’t call me that.”) like clockwork.

Kuzuha doesn’t allow anyone to call him Kuu-chan. In fact, the only one in Nijisanji he has given explicit permission to use -chan with his name is Moira who calls him Kuzuha-chan. On the other hand, Kanae is called by a lot of nicknames, both by his collab partners and his fans. The most common one is Kanakana.

During one of Kanae’s chat streams (18:49), one commenter asked how he would react if Kuzuha called him “Kanakana”. In response, Kanae says that he probably wouldn’t be able to take it *insert disgusted noises* and just die on the spot. 

I find it so cute they hate the nicknames, especially from each other. And personally, while I love Kanae teasing “Kuu-chan”, I do adore the fact that they call each other by name.

★ "Because it’s Kuzuha”

This is from one of the CR cup practice matches when Kanae was part of Kanaminto (Kanae, Admin, Kamito). When Kanae’s party encountered Kuzuha’s, Kanae asked for time from his team to execute the finishing move on Kuzuha (1:25:03). “Because it’s Kuzuha”. Hearing the reason, his teammates immediately agreed as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

During their team practices, Kanae did in fact tell his team beforehand that he would like to perform the finishing move if they encounter Kuzuha. It was so cute how excited he was to be able to actually do it.

★ Kuzuha Not Realizing that Kanae was Streaming

This apex stream is definitely one of the most memorable even just for the fact that Kuzuha was unaware that Kanae was streaming for a whole 30 minutes. Kuzuha joined the voice chat at around 27:25. When Kanae informs him that he’s streaming, Kuzuha asks to confirm that he really is streaming, but mishears Kanae’s answer「うん、そう」(”Yeah, I am”) as「嘘」(”That was a lie.”).

They continue to talk, with Kuzuha mentioning some unusual food preferences among others, until finally at 1:00:25, Kuzuha realizes Kanae is streaming when Kanae tells him about something from the comment section. The sudden change in Kuzuha’s energy was amusing to watch. It was probably partly due to the shock because Kuzuha mentioned he was just about to talk about confidential matters right around the time he finally realized.

.

.

♥ ChroNoiR ♥

[thelarriefics]

HOLIDAY FIC REC, PART IV: Below you’ll find more fics that have to do with the holiday season. 

📖 (I'm Dreaming of a) One Night Inn by @lululawrence (54k)

When everything Louis had planned for his life falls through, and on his birthday no less, he's left with no other option but to regroup and start over again. The road of life isn't always straight and it certainly isn't always easy, but sometimes it's those twists and turns that find you your closest friends and—if you're really lucky—the love of your life.

Louis just happens to be very lucky.

A Holiday Inn AU.

📖 Baby, Won't You Look My Way? by @peachbootylouis (50k)

Louis tiptoed to the door and opened it, looking over his shoulder for a moment. Harry looked absolutely gorgeous, almost enough to make him strip back down and give it another go. But that wasn’t who Louis was. So he sighed and stepped outside, leaving back to his flat. And for the first time in years, he felt alive.

Or the where Louis’ routine centered life runs like clockwork until a chance hook up throws a wrench named Harry into it all. But as it may turn out a change in plans could be what Louis has needed all along.

📖 Ideal: An Advent Fic by @iamasphodelknox (40k)

All Louis wanted was some god-damned time to write his novel. He didn’t expect to move his and Liam’s entire production of a Christmas variety show to a small inn in Vermont just before the holidays. He didn’t expect to save Niall’s inn. He didn’t expect Liam to fall in love. He definitely didn’t expect to fall in love himself. And he certainly didn’t expect it all to feel so much like a Christmas movie.

Oh hell. There’s a lot of things Louis didn’t expect.

A White Christmas au, complete with drama, fluff, choreographed dance numbers, and idiotic boys falling in love. Just your typical Christmas fun.

📖 The Happiest Season by @sadaveniren (37k)

“You’re going to spend Christmas - and your birthday - with his homophobic WASP parents? That’s gonna be hell.”

Louis closed his eyes in frustration. “It was either that or be apart and I don’t think that’s gonna be good for either of us this year, you know?”

A fic loosely based on Happiest Season but make it ... different

📖 maybe this christmas by @nobodymoves (34k)

Harry lives next door to Louis and babysits his daughter. He might be hopelessly in love with Louis and desperate to be part of his little family, but he’s ignoring that in favour of trying to make Louis’s busy life as easy as possible. When he finds out Louis and his daughter don’t believe in Santa - someone who is universally considered a real person - he makes it his mission to convince them. Along the way he takes in a man who may or may not actually be Santa, and everyone’s Christmas wishes might come true.

A Miracle on 34th Street AU.

📖 Retiens la nuit by @teamlouis2020 (26k)

Everything is too much for Harry. His exboyfriend, his job, his whole life actually. Flying across the globe to find a quiet place for Christmas holidays is exactly what he needs. Among a warm cottage and snow-covered fields, he doesn't expect to come across Louis, the beautiful stranger that stumbled into his house one night. Love isn't supposed to find a way to his heart, but Christmas has its magic tricks, hasn't it?

📖 Neither Wine Nor Dine by @brightgolden (25k)

With Louis’ fringe taking up half of his forehead and eyes crinkling at the side with how wide he grins just by looking at their Christmas tree, he looked so much like the 19 year old boy Harry met in the living room of his shared two-bedroom apartment years ago.

It's too bad that Harry doesn't get to see it often.

OR

Where Harry is too busy travelling the world and Louis is home during Christmas.

📖 Baby, You're On My List by @chloehl10 (17k)

Harry takes his niece to see Father Christmas, but he doesn't count on meeting the cutest Christmas elf. Taken by the handsome stranger, Harry decides to recruit as many children as he can so he can see him again, and again, and again...

📖 The fic where Harry calls Louis an idiot for ten days straight because he is one. by @mercurial-madhouse (16k)

They’ve found the perfect get away from their busy lives as nationally-famous footie player and well-respected restaurant critic, escaping to the isolation of a cabin in the woods where they can simply be Louis and Harry.

If only both were actually here.

A gift forgotten in London, the untameable force of the weather, and the scent of burnt snickerdoodle biscuits find Harry and Clifford pitifully alone and Louis... Where is Louis?

📖 Unwrap My Heart by @larryficwriter (15k)

Harry is flabbergasted, that much is clear. He also looks emotional, understandably. A little excited shiver runs through Louis’ body because this is just the beginning.

“Harry,” Louis begins as soon as the song is over. “This begins 12 Days of presents that I have planned for you. Each day you’ll get another present from me that will hopefully show you that you mean the world to me.”

or, the 12 Days of Christmas: Larry Edition

📖 The Ideal Flatmate by @larryyouknow (12k)

Louis shares his flat with the ideal flatmate (or I-F as he often nicknames him). Harry is a bit younger and a bit taller than him. He’s polite and there is nothing to complain about. Harry rarely brings someone over, he isn’t loud, he eats at the table and when he uses the shared area for his crafting projects he always tidies after himself. Harry doesn’t bother Louis and he pays his share in time.

The ideal flatmate.

The only problem is: Harry hates Louis. This will be very lovely Christmas.

📖 Fine Lines by @harrystinysantashorts (11k)

The short story is there are two little, white sticks sitting on the bathroom counter with two little, pink lines on both of them. The long story is that that’s never happened before.

or, Harry gets the surprise of a lifetime and decides it’ll be the perfect Christmas present.

📖 Run to Me Through The White Night by @mizzhydes (8k)

A horrid last-minute shopping trip amidst a mass of teenage girls and their parents was not what Louis was hoping to get roped into two days before Christmas.

The day started out dreadfully, but fate had something different in store for Louis that day. A chance encounter between a famous pop star and an everyday lad, gave way to an evening that neither of them would ever forget.

📖 In Search of the Perfect Tree by @beanno28 (5k)

Harry and Louis work together at Home Depot and are also in a long term relationship. Harry is getting ready to get the store ready for the holiday season. When Louis decides he wants in on the action and their coworkers plan a tree off. Who wins and who loses? What happens when Harry has a secret up his sleeve?

📖 may your every wish come true by @cocoalou (4k)

“Harry, right? Harry Styles?”

Harry’s insides are screaming.

“Uh. Yes. Louis Tomlinson, yeah?” he replies, trying desperately to keep the manic smile off his face that he knows is already making an appearance because Louis remembers him (!!!!!), little ole Harry Styles; two years below, nerdy as all hell, and his friend’s dorky, younger brother.

Harry and Louis reconnect during the Holidays, it's kind of fate.

[witchyfrankincense]

La Méprise (part three)

Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: You start history with Spencer Reid in your university auditorium.

Warnings: violence, fight, reminding of trauma, season 13 spoilers, prof!Spencer, student!Reader, suggestive.

❁❁❁❁❁❁

Like clockwork, Spencer had turned around faster than you realized no one was following your steps next to you. Your heart dropped more than it already had as you understood that there was something, some nick, that you had failed to catch. But maybe you were the lost one here?

It seemed like Spencer had no doubts about his forthcoming actions – you watched him take quick, aggressive strides towards Mike. Seconds later, his tensed fist made contact with Mike's face. Spencer's act made you jump. Your usual first instinct would have been to yell, to interfere. But this time you didn't.

Right after the action, Mike was angrily pushed against the wall.

"You should stop talking," Spencer mumbled, angrily shoving him at the wall for the second time, pulling the man by his bunched-up jacket. Mike let out a pained groan and scoffed, later inhaling a deep breath of air. "Okay," he spat out. "Okay. Man."

"If you ever even look at me again," Spencer spoke, a harsher than usual undertone in his voice. However, soon after, he just went silent, staring at Mike for a few more moments before releasing him from his grip. You breathed out, shoulders dropping. You felt tiredness wash over you, obvious from all the stupidly scary events that had just happened.

After seeing Spencer turn back around and start walking towards you, you nodded and turned away from the sight of Mike silently chuckling and wiping his bloody nose. You opened the door. The fresh breeze of the outside air lifted your mood and you took a wide step outside.

"Can you still walk with me?" your voice reached both of yours' ears after you closed the door. "Oh, yeah. I'll join the team later," he replied, glancing in your direction. You both went quiet, still walking, Spencer seemingly following your lead of way. "Thank you," you suddenly muttered, placing your hands into your jacket pockets.

"Hm?" Spencer replied to your unexpected gratitude. You let out a small sigh, looking down at your synced-up footsteps. "Thank you for doing that. I would've punched the bitch myself, but, you know," you softly spoke. He smiled. "I'm not...usually a puncher," he weakly mumbled, shoving his hands into his pant pockets.

"I could've guessed," you joked, instantly frowning on yourself. "It's, not like you, you know, look like you wouldn't be able to, uh, punch someone, I was just—,"

"Joking. Yeah. To be fair, I agree," Spencer finished for you, making your shoulders drop in relief. You both let out chuckles. Continuing to walk down the asphalt path, you looked around the university campus. "Yeah, I usually take the bus to university. Quicker that way. I don't have the ability, nor want to sprint here at 8 a.m. Though, I enjoy a walk sometimes," you craned your neck to his side, sharing a random daily life thought. He nodded, straightening his shoulders.

"That is very true, actually, did you know that walks are extremely good for your well-being? Just 30 minutes every day can increase cardiovascular fitness, strengthen bones, reduce excess body fat, and boost muscle power and endurance. It can also reduce your risk of developing conditions such as, uh, heart disease, type 2 diabetes, osteoporosis and some cancers. Unlike some other forms of exercise, walking is, you know, free and doesn't require any special equipment or training," he finished talking, glancing at you brightly. You raised your eyebrows in shock and cheered.

"Wow! Spencer—,' you stopped, realizing your lack of knowledge about his last name. "Reid," he mumbled back, continuing to walk. "—Spencer Reid, the fact machine! Hey, buddy, does that head ever get too heavy for you?" you laughed out, crossing your arms and raising your head. "Hey," he mocked your tone, "That, is downright mean," he raised his voice playfully, his eyebrows furrowing.

You both bickered as you rounded the corner. And, you continued talking while walking down the lonely road. And while you pointed out the apartment building you were staying at.

And when you both said goodbyes after he had led you to the building door, a creeping feeling of awe kept trying to make you fall – to slip down the very stairs you built.

Five days later

Thursday.

"Spencer?"

Three mornings. After the boringly passed weekend, you had spent the last three mornings walking into the auditorium and longingly glancing at the seats – hoping to see the familiar curly-haired persona. But you never did, as each time you looked up, the seat was empty. Had you scared him off? Or maybe he thought you were weird? Many questions swarmed your mind constantly, and, well, there was really no hope of distracting it. Because the only person who could, wasn't showing up.

On the blessed fourth day, you walked into campus, sipping your new-bought iced latte with caramel, dressed in dashing black baggy jeans and 90's-esque top with a bunch of shiny silver jewelry all over your neck and hands, not expecting anything to be different. Because you got it, you understood – obviously he had a job to do, a terrifyingly important one, at that, and going to these lectures and meeting you was just a side mission – a pastime.

However, as you were making your way to the door, you noticed him – Spencer, standing near the entrance.

"Spencer? Hey, you're back," you exclaimed, quickly swallowing your sip of coffee and smiling. He returned the smile, nodding. "I am, uh, I had a bunch of cases, so, didn't really have time," he spoke, joining your stride to the door. "No, it's all good, Spence. I get it. Your job is extremely important, and I definitely don't expect you to, you know, always be here." Seconds later, you mentally cursed at yourself after realizing your accidental use of a nickname instead of his full name. "Shit—, sorry, I called you Spence," you pointed out quietly, glancing at him to watch his reaction. He, however, gave none.

"It's okay—you know, this teammate of mine, JJ, she's my best friend—, she also calls me Spence, so, yeah, you can, if you want," he mumbled out, a smile playing on his lips. "Wow, didn't know you had a girl best friend! I bet she's super cool," your voice rose in slight excitement.

You realized that you both had stopped walking.

"She is," Spencer replied wholeheartedly, smiling. His eyes then dropped down to your outfit. "You look pretty today, by the way," he pointed out, seconds later turning back to face the entrance and beginning to walk forward. Your mouth hung open in slight shock and it took you a good second to catch your expression, shake your head and speed walk towards Spencer.

He complimented you.

"Thank you," you mumbled after catching up to him, flashing him a grateful smile. He nodded. "You know, there's something I want to tell you," he suddenly spoke up, his lowered tone making your heart drop for no other reason than worry. "What is it?" you instantly asked, grasping the handle of your bag.

"Oh," Spencer lightly laughed, glancing at your direction. "It's nothing bad, I promise. I mean—I'll just tell you. I'll be in temporary teaching at this university," he mumbled. You raised your eyebrows, aiming your gaze at the ground. "Really? That's cool," you answered, smiling through your words. "So, you'll be my professor?" you blurted out a thought, regretting it a moment later.

"Yeah," Spencer chuckled back, looking at you. "Guess I will."

Butterflies suddenly erupted in your stomach, and your expression changed as you realized that. Shut up, you softies. You had no idea why you felt so warm out of the sudden, as all you did was think about Spencer being your professor.

Spencer being your professor? Did you have some weird professor and student fantasy?

You subconsciously shook your head and continued walking in silence alongside Spencer, deep in thought. However, a moment later your inner mind light bulb lit up and you lifted your head up, straightening your posture. "Wait, what trained FBI team member takes up temporary teaching for some inexperienced students?" you asked, shooting him a quick look. You saw him tense up, visibly sighing. He looked at you and weakly smiled.

"I really wished you hadn't asked me that," he muttered and you frowned. "Oh—I'm sorry, I didn't—,"

"It's okay. You have the right to know. I've—uh, I've been to prison. Falsely accused," he began, nervously correcting himself after noticing your intense stare. The both of you blinked in shock – you because of Spencer's sudden confession, him – probably because of the same thing.

"Of what?" you asked carefully. Spencer swallowed. "Multiple drug possession. Suspicion of drug distribution. Murder of Nadie Ramos," he muttered quietly. You felt your eyebrows furrow, mind running through all possibilities. "Oh."

"I was framed. But I still spent almost three months there. It was, uh, bad," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm sorry," you replied, feeling at a loss of appropriate words. Spencer quickly shook his head, smiling. "You don't have to be. That's why I'm teaching. I was recommended to do it. It's like a...break, I guess."

You returned his smile, looking back at the ground. "You start today?"

"Yeah."

You began walking through the corridors, making your way to the auditorium. "I bet you'll make a great professor," you quietly exclaimed, watching his somewhat anxious expression shift into a softer one. He chuckled. "Thank you. I hope I'll live up to your expectations." "You will," you muttered almost instantly, voice higher. Once again, seconds later regretting even opening your mouth. Spencer laughed again. Walking through, Spencer pushed the already open door further, stopping so you'd walk first. You thankfully nodded back to him and smiled. "Go sit," he suddenly mumbled behind you and you felt him place his warm hand on your bare lower back, softly pushing you towards the seats.

You inhaled harshly, barely containing the need to arch beneath his hand, and quickly nodded, hurrying to the stairs. Spencer visibly grinned behind you.

Hopelessly ignoring your previous spot, you hurried to the second aisle, quietly hoping that the seat you chose wasn't taken. After all, you were fully ready to support Spencer on his new-found teaching, you obviously knew him more than the other students.

"Hello, uh, my name is Spencer Reid," he started, voice raising on his last name. The others quickly settled down, slightly interested in their new professor. He was easy on the eyes. You grinned to yourself, still gazing at him. Apparently, Spencer did indeed feel your stare at him, so he looked back, a smile beginning to play on his lips as he breathed in. Moments after, he began going on about a whole cluster of themes and subjects he had decided to teach you all. You failed to take your eyes of him.

<>

"Yes! So, this'll be it for today, don't forget to buy or get that book from somewhere else because it shares extremely good opinions and is very important for your understanding of what we're going through! And have a great day!" Spencer raised his voice to express his last thoughts to majority of the students who were already getting up from their seats and heading towards the exit door. You stayed, a wide smile on your lips as you noticed him glance at the leaving students with brighter than usual eyes. You stood up, fetching your bag and dropping it on your seat. You slowly walked towards Spencer, him finally looking back at you.

"See, you were great, Professor Reid," you jokingly exclaimed, seeing him laugh while packing his belongings behind the desk. "Thank you, Y/N, guess I am pretty great at teaching. I just, I don't know, felt as if you were all so interested in what I was speaking about, so, yeah, that was pretty great," he expressed, running his hand through his fluffy hair.

Your eyes subconsciously traced his hand, cheeks somewhat heating up, and you smiled. "Yeah, we were all pretty into your teaching. It's cool, your way of talking, I mean. But I think that wasn't the only reason why they were so immersed in you," you spoke, not realizing your accidental change of view. You both chuckled, Spencer seemingly deepening his gaze at you. "I wonder what that is," he teasingly replied, leaning down to get his case full of books and teaching material, however not turning his eyes away from yours.

You broke the eye contact, deciding that the conversation was way  too teasing for your liking, and laughed quietly to yourself.

Oh, shut up, Ms. I-might-have-a-professor-kink, I know you'd love for this mood to go on for the rest of your pitiful life.

"I wonder, too," you mumbled, feeling warmer. Spencer returned a light scoff. "Well, you seemed to know it when you first brought up the fact, so, tell me. I'm clueless, Y/N," he replied again with a tiny bit of a smooth velvet tone in his voice and your heart almost dropped in fear of his words. Why was he so confident? "Well, I think we're both kinda', you know, aware?" you hesitated, looking back at Spencer. His tongue darted out of his mouth, wetting his lips and he stood back, sliding his chair under the desk.

"Are we? Am I?"

You swallowed, trying to regain your usual snarky mood, while also moving back to your seat and snatching your bag from it. "I think so, yes," you exclaimed, sighing and joining his stride to the door. You both walked beside each other, Spencer sheepishly smiling and looking straight ahead. He didn't say a word until you reached the door.

"Well, why don't you think about that like a good student and tell me tomorrow, hm?" Spencer suddenly spoke up, making you freeze in your step. You widened your eyes at his words and looked up at him. His eyes were shimmering. You both stopped walking and you nodded, feeling awfully hot at his title for you. He smiled and unexpectedly raised his hand, leaning in closer and brushing a strand of hair out of your face, pushing it behind your ear. You continued to stare at him, wide-eyed, and he seemed to enjoy your confusion.

"Goodbye, Y/N," he muttered and lowered his hand near his side, opening the door and closing it behind him. You began feeling weak, reaching behind blindly in search of the wall. After you had found it, you leaned against it, trying to regain your breathing.

What just happened and why did you like it?

<>

[simpsiren]

dong sicheng x reader, ft, taeyong

“Your brain works like a computer, like clockwork. Yet you just can’t think straight because you’re thinking of her, right?”

description. I watched in pain as my best friend whom I liked for ages become delusional of my feelings and fall in love with another girl. I never told my feelings for him, and I never will. Little did I know that he felt the same as well. The feelings that took him so long to realise, now with hope that it wouldn’t be too late.

genre. aNgsT, fluff, friends au, unrequited love au

warnings. sad but also not a sad ending. depends how you look at it cudndjdn

word count. 9.2k~

a/n. do yall ever feel emo and suddenly want to write a sad ff? yes this is one of those times. i actually never wrote a ff where it was eXtrEmElY sad but oh wells let’s put you on an emotional roller coaster ride while you read this HAHA enjoy!

Dong Sicheng. Winwin as his nickname and what everyone, teachers and students, call him by. He’s smart, kind, sweet, and appearance wise you can never say no to that beautiful face. He’s an all rounder perfect student that everyone adores and admires. He’s extremely friendly, being able to socialise with everyone in the hallways right off the bat. I can confirm in my three years of high school that no one has never disliked him before.

The only thing that everyone dislike though is the fact that I’m his best friend. The only one that calls him by his real name, the one that can get close to him in terms of physical touch, and just have him by my side almost all the time. I received hate for being his best friend since they think he deserves better. But at this point, I really couldn’t care less, opting to stay quiet and accept the harsh words thrown at me with zero care for the world.

Since those insults are given to me when I’m away from Winwin, I never told him about what happens outside of his sight since I didn’t want him to be concerned for me and have him worry over a small matter. Things like this in high school are what I consider childish, which is why I try my best to ignore it as much as possible.

“Here. Another box of cookies and perfume. Also, a ton of love letters.” I said lazily, tossing the bag of gifts to Winwin’s lap and taking the seat beside him with a groan. I hated it when girls asked me to pass their gifts to Winwin because they’re too shy to do it themselves. It’s not like I’m some delivery girl in charge of taking care of their gifts. But I got used to it. Not sure if that’s exactly a good thing or not.

“You can have the cookies.” Winwin took out the box of cookies and handed it over to me. I took it and scoffed in amusement. “The price for the ingredients to make regular cookies is way more cheaper than buying it from wherever she got this.” I inspected the box and the cookies inside, noticing how expensive it looked with the decorations.

Regardless, I opened the box and picked up a cookie to take a bite. “Okay well it tastes good.” I said in defeat. Winwin wasted no time to grab a cookie and try it, instantly humming dreamily. “Oh wow it’s actual good.” Winwin moaned out as he finishes the cookie in his mouth.

“Being the school’s most adored student couldn’t get any more better, huh?” I reached into the bag of gifts and took out a random letter, twirling it around in my hand as I observed the aesthetics of it.

Winwin huffed, leaning back into the seat. “It’s tiring. I’m only down for the free food. And perfumes.” Winwin takes out the perfume, which I could already tell from its packaging that it was an expensive one. He unboxes it and squirts once to smell the fragrance in the air. He shrugged and shook his head. “Expected better. I’ll just sell this.”

I chuckled at his reaction, sniffing the scent that was in the air and nodding in agreement. “By the way...” Winwin suddenly started. I noticed his change in behaviour. He’s acting all shy and somewhat embarrassed, looking down and fidgeting with his fingers and feet. I raised at eyebrow at his unexpected mood change.

“You know the new student that got transferred four months ago?” I clicked my tongue and nodded. “Haeun, right? What about her?” I asked, though I wasn’t fully concentrated on the conversation because I couldn’t stop shoving the cookies into my mouth and admiring it’s savoury taste.

“Would it be weird to say I like her?”

I froze in my spot, a cookie halfway into my mouth as I tilted my head up from the cookies to look at Winwin. Though he was looking down to his feet, I could tell he was smiling to himself like an idiot and blushing intensively.

I knew where this was going. And I didn’t like it. It hurts my heart, like a needle constantly jabbing into my heart as the question that Winwin asked resonates in my head. Not receiving a reply, Winwin called out to me, making me shake my head and blinking my eyes rapidly to snap myself out of my thoughts.

“Um well, how’s she like?” I asked hesitantly. Why was I dumb enough to ask this? I’ll only be hurting myself more with the answer Winwin was about to give.

“She’s a badass. She’s strong, and she knows how to stand up to the students that bully her. I admire her a lot because she’s fearless. The way she can even fight back to the teacher and actually having valid arguments. She’s not like anyone else here.”

Of course she isn’t. She not at all like me either. I took a deep breath, knowing I’ve done a great job at stabbing myself in the back as I lump filled my throat, once again unable to give a single reaction of sentence. “You okay? You seem worked up suddenly.” Winwin suddenly got closer and I quickly inched back.

I felt my body getting tensed up as my face gave a blank expression. I wasn’t sure what to feel. Anger, sadness, heart fluttering due to Winwin’s small action of getting close to my face. Maybe all three.

“You do remember what happened the other times you have liked a girl, right? You know they didn’t end well. I don’t see why you’re still trying.”

That, was the only excuse I could come up with to have Winwin not having any interest in other girls. Before high school, he’s liked plenty of girls. But they’ve all rejected him, causing him to come to me for comfort. It hurt my heart, seeing that I’m the one that has to watch him go through a heartbreak and being the hopeless romantic he was. It also pained me in a way that I couldn’t describe.

If only you were mine, you wouldn’t have gone through any of that.

“What if someone else liked you? What would you do?” Winwin tilted his head upwards with a finger on his chin for a moment as he stopped to think. He had an unreadable expression on his face, only making me wonder what he would reply.

“Depends on who.” Winwin simply replied.

“What if that someone is really close to you?” His forehead creased with raised brows, probably either curious as to why I’m asking such questions or trying to figure out where this conversation is heading.

“The only ones I’m close to are you and Yuta.” A few seconds later, Winwin gaped his mouth open and covered it with the palm of his hand, letting out a shocking gasp. “Is Yuta gay?!” Winwin burst out laughing crazily, smacking his thigh as he had a hand on his stomach.

I could only sit there with an unamused face. I glanced sideways and forced a smile. A simpered smile that would best hide what I truly felt. I rose from my seat with the box of cookies in hand. “I meant the other person, Dong Sicheng.” I looked straight into his eyes with a face of seriousness. Though I doubt Winwin understood what I meant by that.

Not being able to handle this any longer, I walked away, despite Winwin calling out my name multiple times. I walked till I hid behind a wall where it was out of Winwim’s sight, beginning to slide my back down the wall till I hit the ground, my eyes starting to get flooded with tears till they finally stream down my face. I brought my knees close to my chest with the box of cookis in between and hiding my face with my arms.

How long do I have to keep this up? How long do I have to wait till Winwin realises my feelings for him? All this time while he went through constant heartbreaks, I was the only one there for him. Me. I had to watch him cry days on end all because of a girl who doesn’t even mean much.

And now I have to watch him go through it again. But I can’t stop him. It’s his feelings. Despite my constant share of concerns for him, he never seemed to stop being the stupid one in love. Dong Sicheng was, and always will be, a hopeless romantic.

But in a way, I was as well. Not being able to let go of my feelings for him that has kept me tied down for so long. I liked him for years and I knew my love was more than what the girls he liked before could offer. If only he could just see that. But waiting for that moment slowly began to get tiring.

I wondered where Winwin has gone to as I laid on the living room couch with my phone held in the air showing Winwin’s contact on the screen. I contemplated on whether I should call him or not.

There have been days where Winwin would come back to our apartment late, but it’s either because he had family events (which happens quite often in Winwin’s case) or just an outing with Yuta. But I would have known the reason either way since he’d always update me whenever he went. It felt out of place to not know where he was and it made me a little worried.

As I was about to press on the call button, I heard the front door open. Lifting my head from the couch, I turned around and saw Winwin taking off his shoes and walking in. “Where the heck have you been, you dork?!” I shouted, throwing a pillow from under my head.

He got hit by it, resulting him to frown and let out a wince due to his overreacting nature. “Chill I just went out of Haeun, alright?” Winwin picked up the pillow from the ground and tossed it back to me.

I didn’t even bother asking why he went out with her. I didn’t want to hear about it either, knowing that my emotional feelings for him that I’ve tried to hide for so long will start to flare up. Regardless, Winwin ran over to me and pushed my legs off fhe couch to give him space to sit. I groaned at his act and sat up straight.

“Today was so fun! I went to the amusement park with Haeun and holy shit was she good at winning games but I wasn’t able to win any for her and I felt bad so we...”

As Winwin rambled on about his amazingly perfect night out with Haeun, I spaced out and could only think about what I have to deal with once Haeun leaves Winwin again. Though now I’m starting to doubt that because well, who wouldn’t want Winwin? He had a major glow up from elementary school to high school anyways.

But now my mind has wondered off to the possibility that I might actually lose Winwin once he gets together with her. And how the feelings that I’ve kept solely for him would go to waste and my times of waiting on him would mean nothing.

“Good that you had fun. I’ll go to bed now.” I said in monotoned manner when Winwin finally stopped talking.

“Oh um okay... goodnight. Sleep tight. Dream of me, alright?” He probably noticed my sudden change in attitude but didn’t bother asking, and instead tried to lighten the mood with a little joke.

“I always dream of you.” I mumbled under my breath as I walked away and entered my room.

Little did I know, my soft mumble wasn’t as soft as it seemed.

“Why did she sound serious when she said that?” Winwin asked himself as he sat there in silence. He started to think about her weird behaviour these days. Especially whenever he brought up about Haeun. Was there something wrong with talking about Haeun? Why did she look like all the energy was drained out of her whenever he spoke Haeun’s name?

Winwin’s deep thoughts got cut off when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He took it out to see a notification from Haeun asking if they should go out more often. He didn’t bother to reply as his mind was only filled with his best friend, deeply concerned but also anxious.

“What am I feeling right now?”

Yuta and I decided to eat lunch together since Winwin’s chemistry teacher held his class back for a reason that he never specified.

Our conversation was going well till somehow our topic swerved into talking about Winwin.

“I heard Winwin’s going out with Haeun more often, and ditching you too.” Yuta suddenly mentioned, taking a sip of his lemon tea.

I suspired and nodded my head. “Yeah well, I’m not too happy about that.” I swirled my straw in my drink, getting mesmerised at the sight. “Of course you don’t. You like him.”

My eyes immediately shot up to Yuta’s, narrowing my eyes in an intimidating manner as I whispered, “Don’t mention it, please. It already hurts enough that it’s a fact.” I said, my eyes softening right after as I frowned. 

“You still aren’t giving me a proper answer as to why you can’t tell him.” Yuta bobbed his shoulders, adjusting his blazer. “I told you time and time again.”

I groaned, covering my eyes with a hand. “He’s my best friend. You know how weird it’ll be if we have feelings for each other. Secondly, even if he does like me back, how will things turn out between us if we argue or something? It’s worse for you because you’re friends with the both of us.” I explained, making random hand gestures like you would do in a presentation. 

“But still. It’s important to be friends before lovers. Better yet best friends to lovers. You’re basically saying that a male and female can’t be friends without one of them falling in love. Well. I mean you fell in love but-”

“But what, huh?” 

Yuta let out a deep sigh before leaning in, resting his chin on his hands with his fingers interlocked together. “But that doesn’t explain you and me. We’re friends but we’ve never fell in love.” Yuta gave a cheeky smile. I growled and smacked his forehead, hard. “What it’s the truth! Anyways, if you aren’t going to anything about Sicheng, I will.”

As soon as he said those words, I wasted no time to loom over the table to grab him by the collar. “Do anything, and you’ll get brutally killed.”

Yuta simpered, knowing he fucked up as he laughed in fear. “W-with what?” Yuta asked hesitantly. I slowly picked up the fork from my tray and raising it beside my head. 

“This fork.” This time, Yuta laughed hysterically, removing my hand away from his collar and throwing me back down to me seat. I let out a huff, slamming the fork back on the plate. “Which body part do you want to hit with a fork, sweetie?” Yuta teased.

I threw him a sharp glare with a line appearing between my brows. “I’ll carve out your eyeballs first so you’ll never see the light of day.” I rolled my eyes and shook my head, finding Yuta shaking in fear as he waved his hands in the air in defense. “Okay, okay. I’ll shut up. Jeez...”

“I just want him to realise my feelings himself. Have you seen what he’s gone through? I have to deal with his stupid feelings while I have to bear the fact that he won’t see me as anything more than a best friend. His delusional ass that I can’t stop falling for...” I continued.

“I’m more stupid in this situation than him if we’re going to be honest.”

Later that day, Yuta and I invited Winwin to go out and have dinner. We were waiting in front of the restaurant only to be greeted with Winwin and a somewhat unwanted guest.

“Oh! Haha it’s Haeun...” Yuta waved a hand to her. She greeted him back with a gentle smile that could possibly mesmerised anyone if she wanted to. Yuta took a quick glance at me. I was pretty sure we were both thinking the same thing. About how I’m not liking the fact that she’s here with Winwin. He brought his hand to my back and rubbed it gently as a sign of comfort.

Don’t get me wrong. I hold no hatred or grudge towards her. It’s just that I didn’t want to see Winwin with another girl. Clearly, I was jealous. I was just too weary of Winwin’s feelings and mine to own up to it.

“Let’s go in then?” She asked excitedly, looking up to Winwin as she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. Winwin smiled back and patted her on the head. I was already not liking how physically close they were.

Little actions like patting the head, hugging, ruffling the hair. Those were all actions that only Winwin has ever done to me. He wouldn’t even be this close to the girls that he used to like. Seeing that he’s now becoming more open, it made me disappointed a lot more than it should due to the deep stupid meaning I hold of the little things he does.

Our conversations while we were eating were quite general. Most questions were about Haeun and getting to know her better. Well, more specifically it was Yuta since I’m pretty sure Winwin already knew a lot about her. As for me, I didn’t bother.

“You should try this. It’s delicious.” Haeun suddenly said, picking up a drumstick of the chicken that was just served to us and bringing it to Winwin’s mouth. Haeun placed a finger in Winwin’s chin to bring his head closer. With Winwin opening his mouth widely, Haeun feeds him with the most brightest smile.

“You’re so cute.” I heard Winwin whisper as he leaned down to Haeun’s ear. She giggled with glee and nudged him in the shoulder. It was obvious that she was liking it. Her blushing couldn’t get any more serious.

He hummed in satisfaction as he chewed on the chicken. “You should try it, too.” Winwin said, passing me a drumstick and putting it on my plate. I forced a smile, which turned out to me only giving a half-smile due to my effort of trying to hide my feelings slowly becoming drained.

Seeing how Yuta kept stealing glances at me, I could only assume that he knew what I was feeling when he suddenly said, “Actually it seems like she’s getting tired. I’ll see her off. You guys have fun.” Yuta swung an arm around my shoulder as the two of us stood up and grabbed our belongings before heading out and leaving the two to hang out by themselves.

“You didn’t have to do that...” I whispered, looking into my bag and checking if I left anything behind. Yuta shook his head and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I had to. It was hard to watch you die inside while they were being all lovey-dovey.” Yuta replied.

“Anyways, can you go home yourself?” I gaped my mouth and scoffed, glancing sideway before looking up to him with a raised brow. “You brought me out here but you can’t be a gentleman and send me home!?” I hissed.

“The food inside was actually good and I’m willing to finish whatever’s on my plate!” Yuta retorted with a cute pout as a way to persuade me to follow his way. With the unamused face I gave him, he huffed and ran a hand through his hair.

As though a lightbulb was suddenly lif above his head, he snapped his fingers and shouted, “Ahah!” making me flinch back at the sudden noise. “I’ll text Taeyong to drive you home on his motorbike.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, but shrugged in the end as I admitted it was a good idea. “Yeah sure. I find him cute.” I said plainly, which somehow earned me a weird look from Yuta.

“You called him cute?” Yuta asked in a way that told me that he was surprised. I nodded my head slowly, not sure about why he reacted that way but I was quick to figure it out. “Don’t be an idiot and assume I like him. Everyone finds him cute, okay? It’s like how fangirls call their idols cute all the time. It means nothing.” I said with a sigh.

Yuta’s surprised face slowly turned into a sinister one as his mouth formed a wide smirk. “Hey. Honestly speaking, if you can’t have Winwin, You should try Taeyong. He’s a good catch.” Yuta winked at me before looking down to this phone and texting Taeyong.

I smacked him in the arm, making him wince in pain but recovered in no time due to his endurace of me beating him up almost all the time. “You think my three years of affection for Winwin will just magically go away if I liked him? Don’t be ridiculous, will you?” I let out a ‘tsk’ as I threw him a death glare.

“You never know, sweetie.” Yuta breathed out, putting his phone away and getting close to me. “He’s coming in ten minutes so I’ll go now, okay? Text me when you get home.” Yuta gave a heartwarming smile as he reached both his hands out to rub my shoulders before bidding his last goodbye and going back in.

I scratched my head as I sat down at one of the benches near the entrance while I waited for Taeyong. I soon saw the motorbike that looked familiar since it was always parked at the parking lot at school, knowing it was him.

Taeyong stopped in front of me and lifted the shield of his helmet, revealing his face. He stepped down from his bike and headed to the trunk to take out a spare helmet. I walked up to him with a soft smile.

“Thanks for wanting to send me home. I would’ve gone myself.” I said as I took the helmet that Taeyong handed out to me. “It’s fine. I was pretty free and wanted to go out for a bit.” Taeyong smiled back with a light shrug.

“By the way...” I let out while adjusting my helmet. “Hm?” Taeyong asked.

“Can you take me to an ice cream shop? Any will do. I just need to eat something sweet right now.”

Taeyong got on his back and tapped the seat behind him to signal me to get on as he started up his motorbike. “Sure. I have a place in mind.”

I hopped on as I thought we were about to head off, Taeyong turned his head back to look at me. “You should place your hands on my shoulder. If it’s uncomfortable for you, just hold onto the handles beside you. Just... make sure you have something to grip on.”

I looked down to one of my sides to find the handle that Taeyong mentioned but there’s wasn’t any. I didn’t bother asking and made the quick decision if placing my hands on his shoulders to not keep him waiting. He finally puts down the shield of his helmet as we drove off.

Taeyong ended up taking me to an ice cream shop that was opened for twenty four hours. Which I was thankful for since it meant that there’s an ice cream shop I could go to at four in the morning in case I was in my feels one night.

I ordered two scoops of cookie dough while Taeyong ordered three scoops of cookies and cream. We had to sit at the roadside since the shop didn’t provide anywhere to sit. But I was fully fine with it since I wanted to feel the night air as well as look at the night sky.

We both ate in silence till I fed myself a bite and stuck my spoon into the ice cream, looking up to the sky and closing my eyes for moment.

“Are you on your period, perhaps?” Taeyong suddenly asked. I opened my eyes and tilted my head back down to look at him, shaking my head. “Why’d you think that?”

“I know that most girls have cravings that kick in at random times of the day during their periods. I also know girls crave sweet things too.” I chuckled at his response, nodding my head in agreement. “You’re right about the craving thing. But I’m not on my period.”

I paused for a moment before letting out a soft sigh. “It’s more of eating something sweet to wash down all the bitter feelings that build up in my throat.” I whispered, grabbing my spoon to take another bite.

Taeyong clicked his tongue and nodded his head slowly. “Do you mind me asking why? I-If it’s too personal you don’t have to-“

“What would you do if you liked a girl who’s your best friend for three years but she ended up liking someone else?” I cut him off, tilting my head to the side.

Taeyong looked up to stop and think. “I’ll probably do something to lose my feelings for her. I wouldn’t want to make myself suffer by keeping my feelings depite me knowing she won’t except it.”

“You know like move on. If I liked a girl for three years, I’ll probably take a long time to let go but maybe with the help of meeting new people and distancing myself away from her, I’ll eventually forget about her.” Taeyong added.

As I listened to his advice, I understood what he meant. Why do I burden myself with such feelings? It’s like I’ve been trapped in a cage due to the unrequited love I have for Winwin. Why make myself suffer any longer?

“That’s true... I probably should- I-I mean a friend asked me- Oh who am I kidding I’m asking you this for my sake.” I let out a sigh in defeat, stabbing my spoon into the ice cream before aggressively taking another bite.

“Let’s play some music. It’ll lighten the mood up a little.” Taeyong said with a warm smile, noticing my somber aura and wanting to do something about it.

He opened his phone as he scrolled through his playlist to find a song. “I really like this song so if I suddenly burst out dancing stupidly, don’t make fun of me.” I chuckled before nodding my head, eagerly as I was curious about the song he wanted to play. “I’m not judgy I promise.”

While the spoon that was filled with ice cream was being brough up to my lips, the song started playing and I quickly took a bite before swallong and gaping my mouth open as I instantly recognised the intro.

“Roses by Finn Askew?!” I asked with excitement. Taeyong nodded his head happily as he began to sing the lyrics, bringing his hands up and vibing to the music.

I laughed as I watched him sing and have fun. I decided to let go and sing as well, grooving my body as I finished my last spoon of ice cream.

Throughout the whole song, the two of us didn’t stop dancing in our seats. I constantly laughed at the weird movements and actions he did while we nodded our heads to the soothing music that we both loved.

Taeyong’s singing talent also shined through as he sang the song. I was definitely impressed by how much of a good singer he was. “I didn’t know you could sing like that, Taeyong.” I complimented as another song began to play in the background.

“It’s just a hidden talent most people don’t know. But I’m more to rapping.” Taeyong said with a shrug, placing his now empty cup beside him.

“Actually you’re one of the few people that know I rap.” Taeyong added.

I giggled in response. “I’m honoured to be one of the lucky few. Send me an audio of you rapping sometime. I’d love to hear it.” Taeyong chuckled lowly.

I quicly glance at my phone to check the time. I realised it was getting late and that I shouldn’t be out any longer. I looked at Taeyong, wanting to ask if he could take me home.

He turned to me and gave me a smile. A smile that I was suddenly to drawn into. The way his eyes formed a thin line as his lips curled up. He looked perfect and could make anyone swoon. He was cute.

“I know it’s getting late but can we just stay here a little while longer? I’m trying to savour this atmosphere.” I whispered.

Taeyong nodded and handed me his phone out of the blue. I raised an eyebrow at his sudden action. “Play any song you want. We can stay here as long as you want to.” Taeyong said in a gentle voice.

With that, I spent at least a few hours just sitting at the roadside with Taeyong as I swayed my head to peaceful songs that fit the mood. Taeyong was kind enough to let me play whatever song I liked even though I know there’s a few he wouldn’t know. Surprisingly, Taeyong and I had the same taste in music, which made us talk sbout our favourite artists etc.

I realised how quickly I got to know Taeyong. In a matter of a few hours, it felt like I instantly clicksd with him and I somehow felt as though I’ve known him for a long time. This feeling with Taeyong was refreshing and new. I liked it without a doubt.

Once we decided it was actually getting late, we called it a nighy and have Taeyong drive me home. When we arrived at my apartment, I got off and took off the helmet, passing it to Taeyong as he got off his motorbike as well to put the helmet back in the trunk.

“It was nice hanging out with you. I actually had fun for the first time in a long time.” I said after Taeyong closed the lid of the trunk and turned to me.

“Just call me if you need more ice cream.” Taeyong winked playfully. I took my phone out for him to put his number in. Once that was done, I stood in front of Taeyong, wanting to wait for him to drive off but he didn’t seem to move, leaning back against the motorbike.

“Aren’t you going to go?” I asked.

“I’m waiting for you to head inside so I know you got home safely.” Taeyong mentioned casually.

I chuckled and shook my head, nodding before making my way to the entrance. I turned around and flashed him one last smile and a small wave before heading in.

“Oi! Why the fuck are you home so late?! Did you know how worried I was?! Yuta told me Taeyong was going to send you home!” Damn, I just had to come home with Winwin shouting at me.

“I went out with him for a bit! And can you shut up it’s late at night and you’ll wake up the neighbours.”

I made my way to my room only to have Winwin following behind me and entering as well. “You shouldn’t be staying out late with a guy you barely know. Who knows what could happen to you?”

I took out my belongings from my sling bag and hung it behind my door, scoffing loudly.

“Oh so now you’re worrying? I bet you were out with Haeun and came home late as well.” I fought back.

“I came home earlier than you.”

“Taeyong is Yuta’s friend. And I do know him. So shut it and get out of my face. I’m tired.” I lashed out, pushing Winwin out of my room and slamming the door shut.

I plopped myself onto my bed as I took in the comfort of laying down on the most comfortable space I’ll ever know.

As I played with my phone, I suddenly got a text from an unknown number.

Unknown number: hey it’s Taeyong. you dont have to reply since i bet you’ll be sleeping by now but hope you made it home safely.

I let out an “Ah...” now knowing this was Taeyong’s number and saving it into my contacts.

Y/n: oMg chIlL i got home just fine thanks to you. hope you made it home safe as well

the ice cream man: i did, dont worry. i hope i got to get rid of any bitter feelings you had. goodnight :)

I left him on seen as I placed my phone screen down beside me and looked up the ceiling.

The night I spent with Taeyong somehow felt, magical. Like Cinderella at the ball. I had a lot of fun with him and I was able to let myself be free. Surprisingly, Winwin wasn’t on my mind for a second while I was with Taeyong. I only wished to continue being Cinderella for more than one night as I craved to hang out with Taeyong.

But also, the advice that Taeyong gave me continuously resonated in my head.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let go after all.

On the very same night, Winwin had to face his feelings as well.

“What’s your real reason for going out with Haeun?” Yuta asked as he walked to the living room where Winwin was at and taking a seat beside him. Winwin took a sip of water from the cups that Yuta brought from the kitchen. “Because I like her.”

“Now’s not the time to fuck with me, Winwin. I know it’s something else.” 

Winwin exhaled sharply and fighting back with a, “What else is there? I like Haeun, so I asked her out.” Yuta scoffed and slammed his cup down on the table, his eyes narrowed down to Winwin.

“How long are you going to keep this up? What are you trying to do? Hide your feelings? Use Haeun to distract yourself from her? How low can you get?”

Winwin took in a deep breath and rubbed one hand down his face in frustration. “I told you. I like her as a friend.”

“No.” Yuta replied instantly with a stern tone. “You think I don’t know you? You don’t think I see you staring at her during class? Or that one time where you ranted to me about how she went out with a group of guys from our class.” Yuta got closer to Winwin and he wasn’t fazed at all, determined to maintain this eyecontact that was filled to the brim with tension.

“So? It’s because I care for her. Are friends not suppose to do that?” Winwin retorted back, leaning in as he bored his eyes into Yuta’s. 

 “She’s right. You really are delusional. I don’t know why I bothered trying.” Yuta downed the rest of his drink and stood up, placing the cup on the table. “Well, she told me I should just make you realise it yourself.” Yuta bent down to meet Winwin’s eye level.

“And you better pray that by the time you do, it won’t be too late.”

With that, Yuta grabbed his belongings and headed to the door, exiting and slamming the door shut. Winwin blinked his eyes a few times and stared at the door.

To be honest, Winwin didn’t understand what just happened. A lot of questions popped up in his mind after Yuta left. What did he meant by delusional? What was he delusional about? What did he have to realise for himself? And what did she have to do with all this? 

The longer he sat there in deep thought with analysing everything that Yuta said, Yuta was right in some way. The fact that he gets concerned for her with whatever action she did, but ended up not doing anything about it. He stared at her in class to make sure she wouldn’t fall asleep. He was overprotective about her being around guys because he didn’t want guy to be with her but himself and Yuta. The problem is, why did Yuta talked to him about it as if it was something else? Isn’t this what you do with your friends?

Winwin’s eyes immediately darted back to the front door where he heard the shuffling of footsteps coming. He knew it was her. The moment she opened the door, one last questioned surfaced in his mind.

“What’s too late?”

Little by little, one ice cream date at a time, I began to get a lot more closer to Taeyong. He never lets down an ice cream date and everytime I was with him, he gave me a place where I could go away from my sufferings of my complex love situation. It was as if he gave me a way to escape. Just by being with him, I felt that I didn’t need to suffer.

Our ice cream dates evolved into doing other things like exploring the city, or trying out restaurants we’ve never been to before. To be honest, I would do anything if it meant being with Taeyong. He really was like my very own escape world, where I could run away from the only problem I’m currently facing. Which was Winwin.

Since our exams were coming up, our dates naturally became centered around studying. Today was no different, going to the study cafe that we’ve been to a couple of times.

We decided to sit at the corner of the cafe so that we’ll be able to concentrate better. Me being the relatively smarter one, I had to tutor Taeyong. It was a good thing that he wasn’t one to slack on his studies. He’s avarage in terms of academics but he was willing to try and get better. It made it easy for me to tutor him since he would try his best to understand and stay attentive.

Though, I couldn’t help but notice him stealing quick glances of me whenever I wasn’t looking at him. Does he perhaps like me or something?

“I want coffee.” Taeyong groaned out, pouting cutely in front of me as he desperately asked for a break. I chuckled at his adorable nature and ruffled his hair. “A fifteen minute break, alright? I’ll buy you coffee.”

I was about to stand up from my seat when Taeyong gripped onto my wrist and sat me back down. “I’ll do it myself. Do you want your favourite drink?” I smiled and nodded my head eagerly.

Taeyong rose from his seat. Before he walked off, he bent down and placed a quick peck on my cheek and ran off in a matter of seconds. Taeyong turned around and flashed his cheeky playful smile with mouthing, “That was intentional.”

I giggled and waved a hand in the air, signalling him to turn to the cashier who was waiting for him to order. I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel something after that small kiss.

Over time as our friendship grew, Taeyong became more affectionate towards me. He was a natural at it. Without me knowing, he ended up holding hands and giving each other kisses on the cheek of forehead. It made my heart race every time and he would tease me whenever I blushed. Of course I did the same to him.

A little while later he came back with the drinks, placing them on the table before taking his seat next to me.

We resumed studying till I heard the bell above the door rang, signalling that someone has came in. I didn’t really care about it as the music from Taeyong’s phone played on one side of the earpiece that I wore was loud. I then however heard a very familiar voice.

Looking up, I saw Winwin and Haeun standing by the counter to order. With creases formed on my forehead with eyes that were glued to the two of them, Taeyong noticed my expression and looked at where my gaze was at. “I’m assuming that’s the guy you like for three years?” I nodded with a defeated sigh.

“We can go if you want. I’m afraid it’ll distract you.” Taeyong whispered. Right as I was about to reply, Winwin and Haeun turned around with their drinks as they tried finding a seat. While Winwin’s eyes scanned through the area, he made eye contact with me, causing him to give a confused look until Haeun went up to kiss his cheek and urging him to sit at the spot she found for them.

I bowed my head to greet him while Winwin did the same. I turned back to Taeyong after that awkward encounter. “It’s fine. It’ll be a hassle for us to waste time to go somewhere else.” Taeyong shrugged and nodded his head, resuming to look at the question in front of him.

We were studying for quite some time and I started to feel my adrenaline to continue studying slowly disappearing. With my chin on the palm of my hand, I tried to close my eyes to let them rest for a moment while letting out a tired sigh. Suddenly, I felt Taeyong’s hand guiding my head to rest on his shoulder.

I moved my head around to try and find a comfortable position, which ended up with my head being buried in the crook of Taeyong’s neck. I sniffed the strong scent of his perfume that I oh so adore. “You always smell good.” I complimented.

Taeyong chuckled in response. “I’ll continue to smell good if it means that you’ll rest your head on me more.” I tilted my head up with my chin still resting on his shoulder as I looked up. Taeyong brought his head down to make eye contact with me, leaning in slowly and kissing my forehead ever so gently.

“Go sleep. You need some rest.” With a hand slowly snaking around my waist, I got comfortable with Taeyong’s embrace. Before I closed my eyes, I absentmindedly looked towards where Winwin was sitting. For some reason, he gave me a look of anger, with a tensed body and clenched fist on the table and eyes lit with fire. It disappeared almost instantly when Haeun called out to him, forcing him to look back at her with a wide grin.

What the fuck was she doing with Taeyong? When has she gotten so clingy with him? How are they that close in the span of a few months? Questions like these circled Winwin’s mind throughout the time he was at the study cafe with Haeun.

Oddly, he couldn’t get his eyes and mind off her and Taeyong. He observed their very move closely. He felt like raging every time Taeyong even placed a finger on her. You could imagine how Winwin felt when Taeyong had his arm around her waist and her head on his shoulder.

She said they were just friends. But Winwin couldn’t believe that claim at all. Friends are not so touchy like this, right? As much as he wanted to agree to that question, he couldn’t. Because that’s what he’s been doing with her as well. Being physically close while still being friends. He just never imagined she’d do it with someone else.

Winwin knew for a fact that what he was feeling was pure jealousy. It shocked him due to how mad he could get at this.

After his study session with Haeun, he went straight back home. Realising you weren’t there, he assumed you went out with Taeyong again. He rushed into his room and threw himself onto his bed, placing a pillow over his face and screaming into it.

Winwin threw the pillow beside him and huffed, looking up at the ceiling. Once again he was deep in thought as he stared at the ceiling. This time, he was fighting a war in his head as he tried his best not to admit his feelings. The pride he held to deny it. But he couldn’t hold on anymore. Allowing his wall to crumble down as he came face to face with his true feelings. He decided to call Yuta to ask for help.

The moment Yuta picked up the phone, Winwin said, “Okay you’re right. I can’t beat around the fucking bush anymore. I like her. I like her a lot. I denied my feelings for her because I didn’t want our friendship to be at risk. I only used Haeun to get over her but I can’t. She’s on my mind even though I’m with Haeun.”

It took awhile for him to hear an answer from the other end of the line, only silence and breathing could be heard till Yuta responded with a, “Tell her that once you get into college. Right now, she’s probably studying hard for the high school leaving examinations. It would be best to stay out of her way and focus on your studies.” With that, Yuta hung up.

Winwin was left with his thoughts, unable to sleep till three in the morning because all he could think about was her. Whatever Yuta said the other day now made sense. She’s liked him for so long but she never confessed. He realised how dumb and delusional he was to not see that someone liked him right under his nose but he didn’t know it, brushing it off like it meant nothing because he didn’t want to admit his feelings for her. Fuck his pride and delusional ass.

As the days of the exams are coming closer than ever, Winwin tried his best to stay focus and study to the best of his abilities. Though he still couldn’t get her off his mind. It wasn’t the main thing he thought about but it was always hidden in the folds of his thoughts. It sometimes made him malfunction a little as well.

“Sicheng are you serious?! This is basic shit I thought you know about this!” Yuta scolded as he tapped in pen on the table and pointed to the question that Winwin answered incorrectly. Yuta sighed and covered his eyes with a hand for a moment before turning to Winwin.

“You aren’t working right today. You good, bro?” Yuta asked with concern. Winwin frowned and ran a hand down his face. “Is it that bad?”

Yuta clicked his tongue and places his pen down, leaning against the table.

“You’re one of the smartest students. Your brain works like a computer, like clockwork. Yet you just can’t seem to think straight because you’re thinking of her, right?”

It took awhile for Winwin to answer before he nodded slowly and gulping. “I can’t do anytning about it now. I don’t want to disrupt her studies. It’s fucking killing me...” Winwin laid his head on the table and covered himself with his arms, earning a big smack in the back by Yuta that made him jolted back up.

“Let’s forget it for awhile. Stay focus. We need to get into college, alright? Come on, let’s get something to drink before continuing.”

A year later.

I finally made it through your high school leaving examination and got accepted into the college I signed up for. Surpringly, Taeyong made it as well. Despite us having different majors, we did share a common elective for History.

“Today’s class was fun.” I said sarcastically, waving my hands in the air lazily. Taeyong laughed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Very.” He commented.

Today we decided to stay back and hang out in the music studio where the music majors use to record their singing etc. Taeyong promised me to play me one of the new songs he wrote.

The studio was located on the first floor of the campus and it was near the entrance as well. Basically the window of the studio showed fhe streets and people could walk by and see whoever’s inside. Well, only if they bent because the window is half the size of a regular one due to the studio being a little lower than ground floor.

We chilled in there for awhile. With me laying on Taeyong’s lap while the two of us were on our phones. I got bored of reading the news on twitter so I turned off my put and looked out at Taeyong. “Play your song now!” I whined. He immediately placed his phone away and looked down on me.

“Okay, okay chill!” Taeyong shouted out, leaning in to kiss my forehead. I got off his lap and allowed him to set up to play his new song.

He got inside the recording booth and told me to sit down and wear the headphones. I followed his instructions, though I was confused when he told me to press a button that would play the song but I got around that.

“Can you hear me?” Taeyong asked, placing his mouth near the microphone in front of him. I nodded and gave him a thumbs up, proceeding to press the button that would start the song.

The first few beats of the song already got my hyped up as I began to nod my head to the music while looking at Taeyong while a bright smile. He smiled back before starting to rap. I was intrigued instantly and started vibing to his voice.

As the continued on with the song, I couldn’t help myself but stand up to dance. He saw me dancing and looked to me while he sang into the microphone, starting to move to the beat as well.

I laughed happily as I started to make weird movements which triggered Taeyong to fall off his rhythm a little and laugh, picking up right where he left off soon after.

Absentmindedly, I glanced sideways to the window and saw a pair of legs facing towards the window. Like I said, since the studio was a little lower than ground floor, the window only showed a small portion of the streets.

To see a pair of legs there was weird. Whoever it was, they stayed there for quite some time since I didn’t see them leave until Taeyong finished the song.

Taeyong took off the headphones he had on and got out of the recording booth. “So how was that?”

I immediately ran up to him and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close and placing a warm peck on his lips. “Perfect as usual, Mister Lee Taeyong.” I ran a hand through his hair and giggled with glee.

Winwin’s POV.

I stood there as I heard her laugh. The unique signature laugh that I once used to hear everyday. The one that never failed to brighten my day no matter the situation. The familiarity of it brought me home, but at the same time it brought a different feeling. A hurtful one that made my heart ache. To know that the one that made her laugh wasn’t me.

I couldn’t stop regretting not telling her how I feel. I planned to tell her after the exams, but life moved too quickly for the two of us and we eventually went our separate ways. A year now has passed as I still held my feelings for her close to my heart. I understood how she felt now. Not being able to tell her how I feel for a whole year. How did she survive liking me with an additional two years.

I know I can’t have her back. She was able to let go of me and be together with someone that made her happy instead of the burden I made her go through. But at the very least, I hope to make her happy one last time before I disappear from her sight forever.

One night, I received a text from Winwin. Of course I still had his number because I didn’t see a reason to delete it. We naturally went our separate ways due to college and all. The text said to meet him at the big tree beside our high school. I found it odd. Considering how it was ten in the night. I figured maybe he needed someone to talk to in person.

“Sicheng!” I called out to him, waving my hand up in the air slightly. Winwin waved back as I took a seat next to him. “What’d you call me out here for? It’s pretty late as well.” I glanced at the time on my phone before looking to Winwin.

“I asked you to come because I have something to tell you.” Winwin said, looking down and fidgeting with his thumbs. I grew nervous as I didn’t know what to expect.

“Um... What is it?” I asked hesitantly, tilting my head slightly to look at his face that he hid by looking down.

After a moment of silence, he finally cleared his throat as looked up, staring deep into my eyes.

“I liked you.” He whispered.

Did I hear that correctly? I couldn’t have, right?

“I really did. I liked you.” Winwin repeated himself when he realised he didn’t get a reponse.

I gulped as I could only stare back in disbelief. The words I wanted to hear for years. Why did I feel different from the way I expected to react from it.

I sighed, licking my bottom lip. “It’s been so long, Sicheng. Saying it now... I don’t feel anything from it anymore.” I replied reluctantly.

“I know. I just felt the need to tell you. You’re happy with Taeyong. I understand that.”

Another moment of silence (longer silence this time) filled the air. The two of us looked up into the sky, getting lost in its darkness.

“Just wanted you to know that I did like you back in high school. I was just dumb to realise it myself.” Winwin added on with a soft laugh. The hurtful kind of laugh.

I punched him lightly in the arm, making him look at me with a surprised face. “You really were.” I whispered.

“I actually got a dance gig at America.”

I widened my eyes as my mouth gaped open slightly. “Really?!” I gasped. He nodded.

“It also meant that I’m moving to America in a few days.” Winwin glanced sideway before sighing.

I placed a hand on his back, rubbing it up and down slowly. “You’ll do great there. I’ll keep in contact.”

“I’m happy I get to tell you about my feelings and talk to you before I go.”

I reached my arms out and pulled him into a hug. I suddenly hear him sobbing into my shirt, damping it a little as his sobs were muffled. I brought my hand up to his hair, caressing it gently.

“I’m happy I got to love you for once in my life. Despite it being tiring, it did make me who I am today.”

[adamantiumdragonfly]

No Ordinary Time: Part Two “wherever you are tonight”

"...A time when the United States is what we fight for..."

The occupants of the Grisham Hall boarding house were no strangers to the war effort. Brothers, cousins, old flames, and current sweethearts have been wrenched from their grasp, the only contact to their stolen loved ones is military-grade pencils and scraps of paper.

Estelle prides herself on her mind for numbers but a usurper from her past rears his russet head and threatens to steal her thoughts every chance he gets. Bessie has been searching for a home in every patron in that cafe but she's left seeing his face everywhere she looks. Constance hears her lover's voice on the wind, finding quiet in the graveyard shift of the machine shop. Margaret refuses to admit defeat but the distance between her letters and her love grows wider each day. Jeannette has read many stories about tragic heroes. Her childhood friend has told tales of his plans for wealth and ending the war on his own. She just hopes she has a chance to do her part first.

wherever you are tonight

Taglist:  @rinadoesstuff @vintagelavenderskies @julianneday1701  @wexhappyxfew @trashgoddess600 @pilindieltheelf @sunnyshifty @rogue-sunday @thoughpoppiesblow  @pxpeyewynn @50svibes​

Norfolk, VA. 4th of April, 1944. 

While some found the adjustment to loved ones being taken from their grasp rocky, Elizabeth Ferguson had the advantage that only a select few possessed. She had already lived through it, making the sting nothing but a fond memory. It didn’t stop stinging though, no matter how many times one felt it. A dull ache would be a more appropriate term, the bruised flesh tender, and the black discoloration fading but the strain of muscles didn’t let the memory fade entirely. It was enough to make a first-timer bedridden for a week but to a repeat offender like Elizabeth, it was a mild discomfort. She had said goodbye before and did her best not to, when given the chance.

She held onto forlorn books, ragged quilts, and threadbare shirts to keep the end at bay, trying to prevent the inevitable ache. Elizabeth tried her best to limp about when the goodbyes were unavoidable. That could be said of everything she attempted. Bessie was a trier, an all-around trier and failer. She didn’t have a wall of degrees like Estelle or a self-assured flick to her head like Vera. She was just Bessie Ferguson, who had clattered and crashed her way through twenty-one years of life.  Not that she hadn’t attempted school (she wasn’t the best student) and not that she hadn’t attempted to walk with the confidence that her theatrical friend possessed (it ended in a twisted ankle and a scraped-up knee) but by god, she tried.

She liked to think that her determination was her best attribute, right up there with the dimple on her left cheek that had gotten her more than her fair share of tips when she had been employed at Charlie’s. The real Charlie had said she was one of his best workers and his gruff voice in her head still brought a smile to her lips, bringing out the money-winning dimple.

Even when goodbyes were said, Bess found ways to hold onto the people or things. She still frequented her old place of work long after she was employed in the noble service of her country. Every Friday, like clockwork, she was in the second to last booth, the red vinyl striking against the blue of her uniform.

I look like the American flag, Bess thought, examining herself in the reflection on the glass of the window. Red booths, white mugs, and a blue uniform. How was that for patriotic?

She looked different, hair sleek and uniform pressed. Was this really Bessie Ferguson who knew every waitress and cook’s name in Charlie’s Diner? Or was Bessie older now, with the WAVES blue wool on her shoulder, finer and warmer than anything she had owned in her twenty-one years. 1941 seemed like a century ago, not three years.

“Hiya, Bess,” Angie was still there, her bouffant of pin curls still perched precariously on her brow. “You got a letter from your boy, I see,”

Bess came in every Friday, with a new letter or to write her own. The grease-stained walls had brought her luck and good memories. She thought that she could imbue them into the stationary, sending them across the ocean to him.

“Yup,” Bessie said, smiling.

“About damn time,”

She had been sat without a letter for some two weeks now. The patrons and the staff of Charlie’s had been concerned, fretting more than Bessie had herself.

“He was a dear thing, that Powers boy,” Angie said, tucking her pad back into the apron Bess was all too familiar with. There was no need to take her order, Bess ordered the same thing every time. “Two sugars, right?”

No matter how tenderly she tried, the bruise was liable to be bumped or brushed. She tried not to wince at the words.

“I saved you a seat,” He would say, even though she was working. He knew full well she shouldn’t sit during her shift but he would say it anyway and she could never say no, either. His smile had seared itself into her mind, a soft glow that warmed her better than any cup of coffee ever did. He would pour her a cup anyway, from the pot she had brought to refill his own mug. “Two sugars, right?”

That had been before rationing. That had been before the war had been set to boil when it was brewing like the dark roast that soaked every inch of this diner. It had been percolating, slowly dripping and staining their country. He had been a machinist at the shipyard’s graveyard shift and she had been a waitress at his favorite diner, that served coffee with “the prettiest smile I ever saw”. It had been a romance sweeter than any baked good in the case and more poetic than Jeannette’s Shakespeare.

She had been a different person then, just a little girl in her third house in three years. Bessie hadn’t known Mrs. Grisham’s motherly touch or the soft smile of her beau. Bessie had only known how to try and try she did.

the ‘30s hadn’t treated Bessie’s family well but she knew they weren’t special in that aspect. The world had been gripped by the choking thorns of financial strain and the vines had pulled the last strains of life out of her parents. When her father had died, Bessie had thought things would be okay. The farm she had grown up on and the family she had been surrounded with was invincible, or so she had thought. She would grow up under the bows of that oak tree that towered in the yard, swatting the swarms of yellow flies and raking up the leaves in the fall. It was her home.

But Bessie watched her family home disappear from view in the backseat of a second cousin’s car, eight years old and she had never seen her new home before. Her oldest brother, Arthur, was sent some twenty miles to the west, only twelve, to provide labor to yet another distant relative’s floundering farm. Eight years old and Bessie would never see home again.

Elizabeth Ferguson hadn’t been raised to admit defeat. As the Depression stretched on and her bags were packed and unpacked, Bessie kept trying. She made her peace with every attempt, trying hard to be useful, helpful, and liked. Her name provided a blank slate, quickly covered in her current caretaker’s preferred nickname. Elizabeth. Beth. Bess. Bessie. Lizzie. Liz. Eliza. She answered to them all and she didn’t mind, truly she didn’t. She would try her best to be what that family wanted, what that home demanded but she’d end up with the suitcase in her hand and a new route to a new home.

Elizabeth had parted ways with the last relative, the last attempt at home, at the age of eighteen. April had dawned cold that year, 1941. She had found employment with the sticky floors and chrome edgings of Charlie’s, turning up on the Grisham’s doorstep. It had been Carrie, Vera, and Estelle back then. Before the war.

Before the war. She worked hard, shoes wearing thin and bones aching when her head hit the pillows. Elizabeth had worked hard and tried to cling to what she had left, the friends she had gained, and the home she had made. Maybe if she clung to them, the one god thing wouldn’t slide away from her, finding a home in some other harbor.

She hadn’t been looking for him or anyone and yet, they had found each other. Drawn towards each other, blending and blurring in watercolor of perfection. Maybe the best pieces of art were the ones that weren’t intended.

“Has anyone seen to you two?” She had asked, whirling around on the slick tiled floor. They were a grease-stained pair, smelling of oil and sleepless nights like every machinist who crossed the line from Portsmouth for a cup of coffee after work.

“No, ma’am,” The tallest, a thin, rake of a boy who didn’t seem much older than Bessie said. His voice was soft, not loud and course like the usual Shipyard folk. “We are fine to sit for a spell-”

“Nonsense,” Elizabeth shifted the bus bucket of dirty dishes to her hip, bracing it with her arm so she could retrieve the pad and pen from her pocket. “What can I get you two?”

“Ma’am, do you need a hand?” The soft-spoken one made to reach for the bucket but Bessie raised a hand to stop him.  

“It’s not heavy.  I’m stronger than I look.” She smiled. “Now what can I get you two?”

Faces came and went in that little diner on the corner of College and Duke, there were the regulars and there were the strangers. Elizabeth had treated them all the same, a bright smile and a warm plate. It was the least she could do and she knew what it was to need a smile from a stranger or two. These two machinists weren’t the only blue collars who sat in the vinyl booths but she fought to keep her eyes on the paper and not straying towards the one who offered her help. The orders were taken and the niceties exchanged, Bess turned on her heel, biting her lip to keep from grinning.

As she marched towards the kitchen, his companion jabbed and teased, the blush creeping up the soft-spoken boy’s face, settling into his hairline. She

These two machinists quickly became regulars, coming back every Friday. Small talk was made and a rough sketch of their characters was established. Elizabeth had never been one to chase but it seemed the work was being done for her. Mr. Wynn and Mr. Powers returned week after week. As the months dragged by and April came and went, Mr. Powers would linger.

“Where are you from, Mr. Powers?”

“Clincho, ma’am,”

“I’ve got family out that way,” Elizabeth had said. “How long you been in the area?”

“I’ve been in Portsmouth for about a year now, I reckon,”

“I’ve an aunt in Portsmouth. Over on Bains Creek,”

“Where don’t you have family, ma’am?’

“The moon,”

He had smiled, bright and warm. Elizabeth felt like she had taken a warm cup of coffee and held it tight to her chest, fingers warming on the ceramic. The dimple on her left cheek appeared in response.

“It’s Elizabeth,” She said. “Elizabeth Ferguson.”

“Darrell Powers,”

Elizabeth had never thought that sharing a smile could be something so special. She had smiled at hundreds of patrons, offering a grin here and there until the muscles in her face hurt, all for a few extra quarters thrown on the table. Elizabeth had never expected a tip from Mr. Powers, or Shifty, as he said the boys called him. Mr. Powers, he remained to her, even on their tentative agreement to a show at the cinema on some Friday night. Mr. Powers, he would be, until he walked her home from her shift, offering her his jacket in the rainstorm that sent them racing towards the nearest porch. There, standing on a stranger’s porch, in the April rainshower, Elizabeth wrapped his jacket tighter around her disheveled uniform, breathing in the smell of cigarette smoke and oil. There, the rain beating down around them and his hair slick against his blushing face, he asked her if he could call her Elizabeth.

“Liz, Bess, I don’t care,” She said.

“Which do you like better, ma’am?”

“My brother used to call me Lizzie,” She admitted.

His eyes studied her like she was some fine painting he had spent hours perfecting and the name on his lips was the signature at the bottom, declaring the work as his. The colors could run and the ink would fade but Elizabeth Ferguson would cling to that coat in its smokey comfort. She had worn it as the rain had lightened up enough to begin their route to the Grisham front door. She wore it on the front porch and burrowed her hot face into the leather as Vera pounced on her, pounding her with questions and squeals.

Elizabeth Ferguson knew what it was to lose thing but Lizzie was willing to try and hold onto this boy as tight as she could. Lizzie was going to try her damn near hardest. This boy with his soft words and bright smile would be taken from her kicking and screaming. She allowed herself to be lulled into a sense of security, taking the two sugars in her coffee and his offered hand too. Lizzie was all bright paints and newly sharpened pencils and Shifty Powers was all steady hands and fresh paper, the perfect medium for this new home Lizzie dared dream of. She was ready to start something new, something untouched by the inevitable goodbyes.

Then the bubbling brew of Europe had overflowed into the spitting flames. Steam rose and Pear Harbor shattered like a ceramic mug on hard tiled floors. Vera left, caught up in the theatrics of secrets and intelligence and Carrie joined up, bringing her soft words and soothing hands to the wounded. Estelle left her school and allowed her talented mind to be lent to the Navy, putting together pieces of puzzles and breaking codes like they were the Sunday crossword. Lizzie wasn’t brave or smart or soft like her friends. Elizabeth Ferguson was a stumbling, bumbling trier and she grasped for the remaining pieces of that home she had searched for. She had spent years searching for family in the faces of strangers, reaching for that oak tree and rope swing in houses that would never be her home and she wasn’t about to lose it. Not to war, not to an Army, and most definitely not now.

“Don’t worry about me,” he had said, gripping her hands in his own calloused ones. He had volunteered, given himself up willingly. Lizzie could have screamed. The Airborne had terrified her, the planes and the silk chutes were terrifying. Their kiss on the Grisham Hall’s front porch had tasted like possibility and tears. He left for Georgia that morning, leaving her in Norfolk with only a pen and an empty hand.

She had told him she wouldn’t if he promised not to worry about her. She had tried not to be worried but maybe he had every reason to be worried about her.  

“Bess?” Angie said again, snapping her fingers. “You good, sugar?”

“Yes, sorry,” Elizabeth said, smiling sheepishly. This diner could pull her back when she didn’t have a thought for the present.

Angie shook her head. “Baby, I think they are working you too hard over there,”

“There” was the mailroom on base. “They” were the WAVES, summoning Bess to their cause. She had joined up in April of ‘43. He had been gone for a week and Bess couldn’t stare at the booth where he had once sat for hours. She didn’t mind the work, and she told Angie so. Being surrounded by all those letters and being the reason soldiers and families heard from their loved ones was the only thing that kept Elizabeth sane. She could try and offer some peace to the fellow fretting wives and friends who longed for a letter, a word, or even a telegram that told them that he was safe.

Angie wandered back to the counter, Elizabeth’s order safely scribbled in the confines of her mind, leaving her with her thoughts and her pen. Staring at the traffic that passed outside the window, her fingers gripped the pen, sketching out the twist of his head and the twinkle of his eyes as she remembered it. As his face burned into her mind.

She didn’t draw him as often as she wanted to. Elizabeth’s sketchpads were filled with the same sketches over and over, page after page, burned into her memory. She didn’t have to look at a reference anymore, the oak trees and the slopes of the house never changed. The smiling faces and the bright eyes as she remembered them didn’t shift. Every so often, a new face would grace the pages but that wasn’t a usual occurrence and was a great honor when a stranger or new face caught her attention. Flipping through the sketchpad, Elizabeth saw his face etched into the pages. She only put pen to paper and chronicled his features on the days she missed him the most. He haunted her more than she drew, hours spent with her finger on the desk tracing out his smile.

“They said you’d be here,” Jeannette Edwards stumbled through the door, arms full of books as she slid into the seat across from Bess. In the few weeks that Jeannette had lived in Grisham Hall, she had slowly acclimated herself to the Norfolk streets.

“Jeannie,” Bess smiled, closing her sketchpad. “Estelle still working?”

Jeannette nodded. “She said to meet you here and that we’d take the bus home.”

Bess folded her letter, sliding her belongings to the side so that Angie could place her order on the sticky tabletop. The mug of coffee, two sugars carefully rationed and dissolved, and the apple pie. Offering Jeannette the fork, she encouraged her to take a bite. Bess was passionate about oil pastels and pastries, making it her mission in life to share those passions with her friends. When a pie or a drawing was offered, Bess’s trust soon followed.

“Why do you rank pie, if you don’t mind me asking?” Jeannette asked, using the side of the fork to cut a piece off of the wedge of glistening golden pie.

“Every home is the same but the apple pie is different everywhere you go.” Bess explained.“Mrs. G’s is third best, this is the second-best apple pie.”

“Who is the first place?”

“Mine,” Bess smiled.  

“You are multi-talented then,” Jeannette said around the mouthful of second-best pie, dipping her head towards the sketchbook she had abandoned.

“I just doodled,” Bess shook her head but she offered the book to Jeannette all the same. Watching her thumb through the pages, Bess’s heart was wedged firmly in her throat, not daring to hope for any kind words or critique.

“These are beautiful,” Jeannette said, her fingers tracing the lines that intricate leaves that had first taken hours and now took a matter of minutes. “Where is it?”

“That’s my family’s farm.”

“You must visit often to sketch it so much,” Jeannette said.

Bess smiled, taking the sketchpad back and tucking it into her bag. Reaching for the cup of coffee, she stared into its dark depths. Maybe Jeannette knew the words to describe how she felt. Jeannette was better at words than Elizabeth.

“It’s hard to forget,” She admitted.

A knock on the window beside their booth made both women jump, the fork clattering on the shared pie plate. Estelle’s face pressed against the window as she beckoned them out, her lipstick faded after the long day hunched over the papers and codes. Estelle Tran was rarely seen with a hair out of place, much less with her signature red lipstick anything but striking against her pale skin. Bess insisted she looked like a real version of Snow White, something that Estelle had always shake her head at. Disney’s princess hadn’t been college-educated, she reminded them.

Bess dropped the money on the table and gathered up her purse and hat, waving goodbye with her fistful of gloves to the cooks and the regulars who still knew her name.

“See you next Friday, Bess,” Angie called as the door swung shut behind them.

“How was work, Stell?” Elizabeth asked, looping her arm through her friend’s as she tugged the gloves over her graphite-smudged hands.

“Heinous,”

The disheveled appearance of the usually put-together Estelle was indication enough. Bessie nodded.

“Let’s go home,” she said.

It was, in moments such as this, when rest is most needed that the world decides to test you.

The bus pulled up to its spot, just as it always did. It was a route that Bess was familiar with, a routine that she welcomed. Fridays were spent at the diner until Estelle got off of work. They would then walk home or, if particularly exhausted, take the bus. Bessie hopped inside without hesitation, ready to sit in a seat and watch the world pass by while she finished the letter she had drafted in her mind. The bus driver, a new face, said nothing as she entered. But, on the days when rest is most needed, inconvenience is the Devil’s worst weapon.

“We don’t let your people on,” The bus driver said, the passengers peering over the edge of the nest, not daring to disagree.

“I beg your pardon?” Bess looked back, seeing that he was not referring to her in her American blue uniform but Estelle. Dear Estelle with her features nothing like the usual faces of Norfolk, Virginia.

Jeannette’s mouth hung wide and Estelle froze, foot perched on the step. Her face fell and Bessie could almost hear it shatter on the pavement. The Grisham girls had been informed that Estelle’s family hailed from the Indochina islands in the Pacific and had been in America since Teddy Roosevelt’s days. She was most ardently NOT the enemy. Mrs. Grisham would sniff indignantly at such a mention and Vera, before she had left, had been known to glower at anyone who dared say such a “fucking disgusting thing”.

Bessie stepped forward, ready to give the man the facts but a hand encircled her arm, pulling her out of the bus and back on the pavement before the doors swung open. Swearing so loudly and vehemently that Mrs. Grisham would have been sent to an early grave, Bessie aimed a kick at the tire of the bus before it sped off, sans three passengers.

“It’s fine,” Estelle said.

“You aren’t Japanese!” Elizabeth growled, her shoes stomping on the pavement. Bess was a trier and she was a fighter. She was ready to try fighting for Estelle, even if that meant throwing a fist at this burly bus driver.

“It’s fine, Bess,” Estelle said.

“That was a despicable thing to do,” Jeannette fumed.

“Let’s just go home,” Estelle muttered, squashing her hat more firmly over her brow and leading the way down the street.

What good was it, Bessie grumbled to herself as she followed Estelle, to serve your country when you were still considered the enemy?

Estelle worked harder than any man and she had been working hard for many years. She had been a teacher and now fiddled with codes that boggled even the male mind. And yet, she was only seen as the enemy. Estelle Tran, by seniority or by necessity, had taken the unofficial role of den mother among the women of Grisham Hall. On the third floor, nothing went on without Estelle knowing. She guarded the girls like they were her own, a grim mother hen who warded off broken hearts and bruised feelings with wise words and her own experience. Bessie loved Estelle like she was a sister and she would have gladly punched that bus driver if she wasn’t wearing the uniform of the US WAVES. Women’s work in the war was precarious enough as it was.

Elizabeth didn’t say a word, as she slipped her hand into Estelle’s, gripping it tightly as they marched through the streets of Norfolk, their heads held as high as they could manage. She knew she couldn’t fight to change every mind or man in this country but Bessie Ferguson was a trier, through and through. Home may not have looked like that oak tree or the face she had sketched so often but she’d hold onto it as long as she could.

[redhoodedwolf]

Prompt: They both keep asking each other out but thinking the other one is rejecting them and lydia has to like banshee scream some sense into them or something

“So, what are you doing this weekend?”

Stiles scoffed, tossing the lacrosse ball back up towards the ceiling and catching it narrowly before it smacked him on the nose on the way down. “Not going on a date,” he said, somewhat bitterly. It’d been over three months since the last one of those and he’s starting to take it personally. Is he no longer attractive? Did moving in with his dad while he goes through surgery recovery really demote his worth?

Derek was quiet for a moment, probably engrossed in his bestiary research again. When Stiles turned onto his side on the bed and glanced at him, he caught Derek’s eyes flitting back down to the book. “I see,” the werewolf said a beat later, no emotion readable in his voice.

Stiles continued to stare at him, mostly unabashedly, noting how Derek’s fingers curled over one corner of the book, the shadows his dark eyelashes cast over his cheeks, his shoulders bare underneath a tight white tank top.

*

“I am starving,” John Stilinski complained, and Stiles had come to expect this complaint every evening after physical therapy, like clockwork.

Derek, his physical therapist, chuckled as he lowered Stiles’ father into the living room recliner, removing the crutches from his hands. “You did good work today, it’s to be expected.”

“What’s the prognosis, doc?”

Derek ignored the nickname, which Stiles knew five years ago would have garnered even his father the Hale Death Glare. “You’ve got good bones, Sheriff, and they’re healing nicely. In a couple weeks we’ll try to get you walking without the crutches--”

“As long as you continue doing your daily exercises,” Stiles finished Derek’s thought as he brought a healthy plate of fruits and vegetables out from the kitchen to settle onto the table next to his dad’s chair.

Derek nodded at him, a small smile on his lips. His eyes were sparkling with mirth.

Stiles felt the words tumble out of his mouth, “We should go get dinner. Together,” he tacked on when he got control of his mouth again.

Maybe doing this in front of his immobile father wasn’t the best choice, but needs must?

Derek’s smile faltered, and his eyes flicked away from Stiles over to his father and then back to Stiles. Derek cleared his throat, and cast his eyes downward. Stiles pursed his lips.

“We--You shouldn’t leave your dad. He’ll need the pork chops you’ve been defrosting for dinner tonight to help revive him.”

Stiles felt a frozen smile on his face and a similar coolness in his stomach. “Right. Forgot about those.”

*

Danny arched an eyebrow when Stiles slid onto a stool at the bar, and before Stiles could utter a greeting, asked, “Does Lydia know you’re here?”

Stiles blinked. “Um, no? She’s in Boston? Do I need her permission to drink? I’ll have what’s on tap.”

Danny’s eyebrow looked far more judgmental, but he moved to grab a mug for Stiles’ beer and filled it. “I ask because she’s been asking me to keep her up to date with your... shall we say movements here. I don’t think she expected you in a gay bar at night when you could be with someone else.”

Stiles scoffed and took a long drink from his mug. “And who could that be, my dad?”

“Was thinking younger, more scruffy, more fangs,” Danny shot back with, and Stiles’ beer suddenly went down like lava, drying up his insides and instantly draining the life from him.

“No. No, that’s not...” Stiles shook his head, unable to finish.

Danny made a noise, and Stiles looked back up at him.

“Weird. Ran into someone at the grocery store last week, and all he, ehem, they, if we’re still pretending here, talked about was helping you, and why you were in town, and if I had seen you recently.”

Stiles ran a hand over his face. “He’s my dad’s PT, okay? I’m home for my dad. That’s what he cares about. He made that pretty clear.”

Danny refilled his mug without Stiles asking for it, and it made a dull clanking when the full drink hit the bartop. “You asked him out?”

Stiles took the mug into his hands and said nothing.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Look, I know how scarce FMLA time is, even for me, I have no idea how much they give you fancy FBI operatives--”

“They’re actually surprisingly good about it,” Stiles interrupted, a puff to his chest. “That, and they know if they ever want me back, which they do because they need me, then they’ll give me what I want.”

“You have such a confident attitude when it comes to your job,” Danny said, as if his statement had a double meaning. “Expect a call from Lydia tomorrow.”

*

Stiles was in his room the next morning, glad for his foresight the night before to not drink himself into a stupor he hadn’t found himself in since college, window open to let in the morning breeze and the sound of Derek’s voice as he stood on the front porch, talking into his phone.

Derek was early for his dad’s appointment, so Stiles had no qualms about making him wait. He wasn’t ready to face him yet, not without waking up a bit more and removing the images of dream-Derek from his brain.

“Look,” Derek said abruptly, and the sudden clarity of his voice caught Stiles’ attention. “I’ve already gotten a no, okay? I’m not such an asshole as to ask twice.”

Stiles couldn’t see him and didn’t want to move closer to the window, in case Derek heard or sensed him eavesdropping, so he moved about his room as naturally as possible, pulling off his sleep pants and dressing in fresh jeans.

“I don’t know what Danny told you, but--”

Stiles stubbed his toes on the leg of his bed, so he missed the rest of Derek’s sentence as he cursed up a storm mentally and shook out his foot to try and stop the sharp pain.

“We can’t all be special like you.”

Stiles collapsed onto the edge of his bed. He’d barely caught the words coming from Derek, they’d been spoken so gently. Stiles swallowed thickly. Who could Derek be talking to that garnered such respect and tenderness? Maybe Cora?

The doorbell rang downstairs, and his dad called, “Derek’s here!” from the kitchen, meaning “get the door for me I’m finishing up the last of my exercises that I promised I would do yesterday but never did.”

Stiles pulled on a shirt and raced down the stairs, opening the door for Derek in record time. “We should just get you a key to the house,” Stiles half-joked.

There was a look on Derek’s face that Stiles couldn’t read. He also couldn’t tell if it had to do with his phone conversation or seeing Stiles.

Derek glanced up behind him and said, “Your phone is--” he paused and shook his head. “Your dad in the living room?”

Stiles stepped aside and let him in, closing the door behind them. “The kitchen, I think? I just woke up.”

Derek glanced at the hall clock that proclaimed it was almost eleven thirty in the morning. He licked his lips. “Long night?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Went out for drinks,” he answered a beat later, spotting his father in the kitchen, crutch under one arm and trying to bend to reach something in the fridge. “Dad, would you let me get it, please?”

“I would if my son didn’t come home in the early hours of the morning, thus sleeping past any kind of respectable time, to help me eat something before my PT appointment. Hello Derek,” his father greeted, smile on his face wavering before he asked, “Everything okay?”

Stiles turned to see Derek’s eyes on the floor as he nodded. “All good, Sheriff. Let’s get you squared away.”

*

Stiles used the appointment time as a reason to escape and get groceries. Halfway to the store, his phone sprang to live, vibrating up a storm in the cup holder. He let the call ring out, but then whoever it was called back immediately. With a sigh, Stiles pulled into the closest parking lot which happened to be for a bank and reached for his phone. He’d assumed it was work calling, but Lydia’s name was flashing on the screen, declaring several missed calls from earlier in the morning as well. He’d recalled Danny’s warning from the night (this morning?) before and groaned, loudly.

When the phone rang again, he picked up immediately. “Yes, strawberry goddess?”

“Are you with Derek?”

Stiles glanced in his rear-view mirror to double check (hey, it had happened before) and replied, “No, he’s at home working with Dad. Why?”

“Where are you?”

Stiles was starting to get a headache. “On my way to the store. Pulled into a parking lot because you called.”

“Good. Switch to FaceTime.”

Stiles knew it wasn’t a question. He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the screen, unenthused, until Lydia’s face appeared before him.

“So, what did Danny tell you?” Stiles asked, wanting to get this out of the way.

“Stiles, you look sad,” Lydia said with a “tsk” in her voice.

“Not exactly swimming in roses here in good ol’ BH, hon.”

Lydia smiled sympathetically. “You miss work?”

Stiles rubbed his free hand through his hair. “I mean, yeah? But this is way more important. And it’s been good family time. The SanFran branch is close but not close enough.”

Lydia nodded. “I know. But you should be making the most out of your time. Like not shooting yourself in the foot.”

Stiles squawked indignantly. “Excuse me?”

“That’s what Danny told me, at least,” She flipped her hand back and forth, and Stiles noticed something gleaming on her fourth finger.

“Lydia, are you engaged?!” Stiles shrieked. Some lady coming out of the bank glared at him and clutched her purse tight to her chest. How dare she, he worked for the FBI.

Lydia huffed and examined her left hand. “Yes. All the more reason for you to stop shooting yourself in the foot so you can bring a date to my wedding. You’ll be my best man, of course.”

“Of-of course. I’m-I’d be honored. But, wait...” Stiles shook his head, reorganizing his thoughts. “I’m not shooting myself, I’m putting myself out there and getting rejected. I’m...getting shot at. Metaphorically.”

Stiles wasn’t sure if his connection froze or if Lydia was just holding the “Stiles is an idiot” look on her face.

“Lydia,” Stiles said, in warning.

“And he calls me special,” Lydia murmured under her breath, face finally breaking.

And that. That pinged a bell in Stiles’ brain. “You were the one on the phone with Derek earlier?”

“Yes, telling him about my upcoming nuptials and how I was hoping to use Hale land to have the ceremony and reception on. And about his choice in date.”

Stiles watched Lydia smirk, and it was still scary even pixelated. He tried to think back on the little he’d overheard from the call. But putting it into context didn’t make sense. Because then Derek would have been meaning that he’d asked someone on a date, and got turned down. Not impossible, but improbable, especially considering his character growth since Stiles was in high school.

A sick feeling settled into Stiles’ stomach when he remembered what else Derek had said. “Did... he asked out--”

“Yes, Stiles,” Lydia said with a relieved sigh.

“Danny,” Stiles choked out and slumped back in the seat. Of course. 

“Oh for the love of Christ,” Lydia hissed, and Stiles slid his gaze back over to the phone to see Lydia practically seething. “I will scream. I am about to scream. Just go get your stupid groceries, go home, talk to Derek, and then call me.”

“So he can let me down a second time? No thanks,” Stiles grumbled, but she did have a point about the store.

“You are a disappointment,” Lydia said before abruptly ending the call, which stung a little, but Stiles knew she didn’t really mean it.

*

Derek was at his car door when he got home an hour after leaving and helped to bring the bags of groceries into the house. He even helped put them away in the kitchen, not uttering a word the entire time. It was weirding Stiles out, but not enough to tell him to stop. The job was done in more than half the time.

“Your dad is taking a shower. Don’t worry,” Derek added, when Stiles opened his mouth, “I’ve got ears on him. He’s perfectly steady, using the shower chair and everything. Just didn’t want another sponge bath from his son.”

Stiles scoffed, unable to look at Derek for more than a second without feeling jealous. “They aren’t a cake walk for me either.”

“I’m not dating Danny.”

Stiles stopped rolling the empty plastic bags into a large ball and tossed it onto the counter, wound-up bags spilling in random directions and expanding very slowly.

“I didn’t ask him out either. I wouldn’t--” Derek’s voice faltered, and Stiles look at him truly for the first time that day. Derek’s shoulders were slumped, and he looked exhausted. “I wouldn’t do that to you, unknowingly or knowingly.”

“Um.” Stiles was now feeling like the idiot Lydia looked at him like.

“Lydia texted me, said you thought I’d asked him out, but I didn’t, I barely see him, he’s only working here before he starts grad school--”

“I know,” Stiles said, needing to do something with his body before he went into a complete shock. He was lost, which didn’t happen much these days.

Derek didn’t look any happier; in fact he looked even more upset, though his emotions only played out in the crinkles on his face and the slope of his torso. “Of course, yeah, I mean you spent all night with him so...” Derek trailed off.

Stiles started to catch on. “Yeeeah,” he responded, slowly. “Because he was bartending at the bar I went to last night. Contractually obligated to stick around and make drinks.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed. “But then who did you meet for drinks?”

Stiles raised his hands up. “Nobody? I mean, there were others there, but it was a Wednesday night, dude, not exactly popping.”

“So you’re not dating Danny?”

Stiles scoffed. “No, Danny is out of my league and I am not his type.” He swallowed before adding, “You are, though.”

Derek nodded once, then again. “Oh. So it’s just me, then. I see.”

“That’s great. Wanna show me the picture?” Stiles asked, reaching out to settle a hand on Derek’s arm and squeezing the muscle. “I feel like we’re working with different cameras here.”

Derek’s eyes fell on Stiles’ touch of comfort, gaze trailing up his arm and finally landing on his face. “Lydia is getting married,” he mumbled.

“She is,” Stiles said, because it was good they agreed on something.

Derek stared at him, took a deep breath, and said, “And I want to date you.”

Stiles’ grip on Derek’s arm tightened. He forced back the stupid smile that wanted to overwhelm his face and said on an exhale, “What made you change your mind?”

“Change my mind? I haven’t. I asked you on a date. You said you weren’t interested.”

Stiles pulled Derek a step closer to him, eyes wide and head shaking. “Uh, no, I would never do that, besides it was you who turned me down, remember?”

Derek took hold of Stiles’ wrist and pulled him even closer, their chests touching. “I think neither of us have been working with a full deck here.”

“You’re mixing metaphors now,” Stiles warned, and knew Derek could hear the way his heart was tripping over itself by the tightening of his grip.

“No, you used one metaphor, and then I used one. No mixing, yet,” Derek challenged, pale eyes flitting all over Stiles’ face before his gaze was landing below his nose.

“I think I am starting to get why Lydia wanted to scream in my face earlier,” Stiles murmured, lips close to brushing Derek’s as he rocked forward.

“I kind of want to scream now.”

Stiles and Derek jumped apart to see an amused and wet-haired Sheriff in the kitchen doorway, a towel slung over his shoulders.

“Dad, you are the worst,” Stiles declared.

His father gave him a look.

“Oh, go do your alphabet foot exercises,” Stiles shot back, snagging Derek’s wrist and pulling him past his father and into the hallway. “I’m going to ask a second time, Derek, and I know not taking no for an answer is so high-school-Stiles but I think this time I can make an exception.”

Derek was grinning at him, teeth on display, and Stiles tilted forward to kiss them, but realized halfway through the motion how weird that might be.

“Will you go on a date with me? And be my date to Lydia’s wedding, whenever that is?” Stiles placed a hand on Derek’s chest, over his heart. “Please don’t say no,” he whispered. “You are so my type.”

Derek raised his chin and kissed him, which was fantastic, but not an answer. Stiles moaned his disappointment into the kiss, but didn’t pull away because he was pretty sure Derek was more of an actions-guy anyway.

He was definitely good at the physicality part of physical therapy, Stiles could quickly attest to this.

[lethal-k]

Luck (PJM)

Hey guys! Amanda here and I hope you enjoy this imagine. I’m not quite sure about making a ‘set-in-stone’ upload schedule because I do have a job but I am going to make it a goal for myself to upload twice a week. This imagine is a pretty long one but it was super fun to write so I hope you enjoy what I have to offer you. Happy not-so-fun 4th of July and stay safe out there <3

Genre: Fluff, Childhood Friends!Au

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: fluff, kissing, flashbacks

Summary: You’ve always been there for Jimin, supporting him through the majority of both of your lives, and he plans to thank you for it. 

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

   Artist of the Year. Quite possibly if not THE most important and valuable award of the night. Important enough to be the very last award given and hold the title of a Daesang. Jimin sat on his cube-shaped seat, Hoseok to his left and Jungkook to his right. The nominees for the award played on the screen as their songs exited the speakers and suffocated the room, mixed with the cheers of each nominees’ fans. BTS were one of those nominees. Alongside Chungha, EXO, Taeyeon, and JANNABI. The tension that surrounded the idols was thick as they all waited patiently, or some, more impatiently, for Park Seo-joon to announce the winner. Jimin was staring at the ground a few meters away with an uneasy look on his face. He knew, along with the rest of BTS, Army, and possibly every other idol and fan in that building, that if they won, they would make history with two Daesang sweeps in a year. Yes, the tension was thick as blood. And while his head should have been present, present and in the game to support the other nominees as they came up on screen - maybe like Jungkook who was bobbing his head to every song - he couldn’t help but stare at the ground and think of one thing, or rather, one person.

   Throughout his six and a half years of being an idol with BTS, Jimin had given many speeches. Many thank you’s and dedications, many promises to the fans. However, tonight, he wanted to dedicate his speech - if they won - to the one person that he hasn’t really thought of giving thanks to, despite them deserving it more than he deserved that award. He slightly smirked at that thought, knowing that the person his mind was clouded with would have responded, “Debatable.” to it. But Jimin was sure of it. And he wanted to thank you in the most special way possible.

   You know those cliche moments when time slows down before a big moment for a character in a movie? That's how Jimin was feeling as the music faded out and the silent tension grew even thicker as they waited for the winner to spill out of Seo-joon’s mouth. Still staring at the ground, Jimin thought of the very, or more the very many reasons as to why he needed to thank you. Because you were always there. Through everything. Ever since you were kids. And for some unknown, ungodly reason, you decided to stick with him through it all instead of leaving like a level-headed person would. And like clockwork, as if his life was flashing before his very eyes, the memories of you two had resurfaced one by one, seeming like forever, but lasting a half of a second each. 

   “Jimin! Come downstairs, please!” Mrs. Park, Jimin’s mother, yelled from the bottom of the stairs. Six year old Jimin came bouncing down the stairs, looking up at his mom. 

   “Yes eomma?”

   “Come with me to greet our new neighbors, lovely.” 

   As they walked over to the new neighbors house, Jimin’s mother carried a welcome basket full of her and her husband’s baked goods while Jimin carried the welcome card. He looked up at his mom and asked, “Do they have a kid like me, eomma?”

   Mrs. Park simply smiled down at him, heartwarmed by his curiosity. “I don’t know, lovely. We have to see.” Jimin nodded at this information with a new look of determination on his face, committed to finding out if he could make a new friend. 

   Finally reaching the front door, Mrs. Park knocked and waited a few seconds. Jimin could hear a faint yelling behind the door, making out something like ‘can you get the door’ and ‘i’ll be there in a second.’ The door had opened revealing a small young girl, looking to be about the same age as Jimin.

   “Hello, sweetie. What’s your name?” Mrs. Park asked, smiling at the young girl.

   The young girl looked up at her before responding, “Y/N..” her eyes flickered to Jimin for a second before looking back to the woman. Jimin’s previous confidence seemed to fade as he  stood behind his mother’s legs, just peeking out behind her.

   Another woman had walked up behind Y/N, dusting off her hands on her jeans, “Hello!”

   “Hello! You must be Y/N’s mother! I’m Mrs. Park and I live next door with my husband and my six year old son, Jimin. Jimin, say hello.” She looked down at him. 

   The shy boy quietly looked at them and managed to give a quick wave while almost-whispering a small “hello.”

   The two women both smiled at his cuteness while Y/N mirrored Jimin behind her own mother’s legs. She looked at him curiously. 

   “We brought you a welcoming basket and card!” Mrs. Park said, handing the basket to her mother. Jimin had shyly handed her the card as well. 

   “Oh thank you! I’m Mrs. Y/L/N and I believe you already met my five year old daughter, Y/N.” She smiled. Mrs. Park smiled and nodded.

   Meanwhile, Y/N was still looking at Jimin. She was staring at his shirt, which had a pirate on it. For the first time since she introduced herself, Y/N had spoken, “I like your shirt…”

   Jimin looked at her to find him looking back at him, and he grinned shyly. “Thanks, I like it too.” 

   Y/N gave him a small smile, “I have a toy pirate set in my bedroom if you wanna go play with me?” she offered shyly, glancing up at her mother. Her mother nodded in encouragement, Mrs. Park softly smiling at the endearing moment. The two ladies shared a mischievous glance.

   Jimin’s eyes lit up as he looked up to his mother, “Please eomma?” he asked, almost begging. Mrs. Park giggled and nodded.

   “Just be home in time for dinner, lovely.” He nodded, smiling at his mother’s words. 

   The memory was a fond one, both Y/N and Jimin’s mothers still tease them to this day about how shy they were back then and how they both were scared that the two kids were going to go off on a ship and pillage the world, over your shared love of pirates. 

   Then, came the next memory. 

   “Jiminie!” Jimin turned his body to the sound of his beloved nickname, bestowed upon him by no other than you. He had declared sometime a few years ago that you were the only one who was allowed to call him that. Twelve year old Y/N came running at him with a big smile gracing her face. “You did it! You won!”

   Jimin smiled back at her, his gold taekwondo medal around his neck. She hugged him tightly, burying her face into his neck. “It’s because you were here. You’re my good luck charm.” He said, hugging her back. 

   She giggled at him, “You’re silly.”

   And although they were joking at the tender age of thirteen and twelve, his words became true. Y/N became his good luck charm, as he seemed to do well everytime she was present for a match or any other competition that Jimin had. So she kept showing up to them in support of him. Jimin could rely on her for those kinds of things, like he could rely on her for anything, leading him to the next memory. 

   You had opened your front door with a smile on your face, before it quickly dropped at the sight of your best friend. A fifteen year old Jimin stood there, soaked from the rain, eyes puffy and red, sniffling with a miserable smile on his face.

   “Hi..” he whispered. You didn’t hesitate to pull him inside from the cold, straight into your arms as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder. “Hana and I broke up..” He said. You somehow seemed to understand. Hana was Jimin’s first girlfriend, and he really liked her. They dated for a couple months so he must have been devastated. You said no words, you just stood there holding him as he let it all out on your shoulder. Your mother had come from the kitchen, a questioning glance on her face. Although he couldn’t see it, you shook your head slightly at her so she knew not to ask any questions.

   “Would you like to stay the night? Dinner is almost ready.” You whispered at him. He let go and looked at you, with a small smile on his face. He nodded as you grinned at him, taking his hand and pulling him towards the dinner table, where you and your mother were cooking dinner together.

   The rest of that night, you and your mom did your best to cheer Jimin up, cracking stupid jokes and dancing terribly to the music playing in the background as you finished cooking dinner. You and your mom always accepted Jimin into your family, just as his family accepted you. Hana was Jimin’s last girlfriend, despite her also being his first. What he didn’t tell you about the breakup though, was that she had tried to make him choose in between you and her out of jealousy. He chose you.

   “I got it.” Jimin said suddenly, breaking the silence that surrounded you both as you watched the sun set from the roof of your house. He was sixteen at the time, meaning you were 15. 

   Your head snapped towards him faster than the speed of light, and he had to hold his breath in order to not laugh at the astonished look on your face. However that look quickly changed into a large smile as you squealed of excitement. “I told you that you would get the scholarship, Jiminie! I’m so proud of you!” you kissed his cheek, making his cheeks turn a slight shade of pink. You giggled at his adorableness before saying, “It was lucky that you were picked, the pool of applicants was hella large. But you deserve it way more than all of those people.” 

   He smirked at you cheekily, “Who said anything about luck? I already had you.” It was your turn to blush this time, smacking him on the shoulder and turning towards the view. He barked out a laugh and put his head on your shoulder in endearment. Slowly, though, his smile fell. “I’m not sure I want to take it though..” He trailed off.

   You glanced at him in curiosity, “Why, JIminie?” You were startled and slightly concerned at this sudden confession. To your knowledge, this had always been his dream.

   He sighed, “I’m not sure how to explain it, really. I just feel like there is more out there for me. Like if I accepted this scholarship then I would be settling for a life in Japan and Busan only. Tied down to a career if you will. I feel like I have the potential to be more, to make more, to leave more of an impact. You know what I mean?” He looked at you, looking for reassurance. To him, he thought he sounded insane. His worries were lessened in seconds though, when you smiled gently at him and placed your hand on top of his, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

   “Yeah, I know what you mean. Whatever you decide, Jiminie, I’ll still be your good luck charm and support you.” You giggled at him, and his smile grew. He threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side as he messed up your hair with his other hand.

   “AH! Jimin!” You yelled, laughing with him.

  You weren’t lying. You did support him. You supported him throughout a lot. You supported him when he decided not to take the scholarship, you supported him when his teachers thought he made a mistake, and you supported him when he told you of his decision to move to Seoul, to seek that opportunity. 

   He saw your smile, big as day to the average bystander, but he has known you for eleven years. He saw how you were hiding your sadness. And that sadness had made up his mind in less than a second.

  “Come with me.” He stated. Your eyes widened and you looked up at him miraculously, as if he was insane. 

  “What?” You laughed out, baffled by his statement.

  He smiled at you and pulled you towards him, “Come with me. To Seoul, I mean.”

  You laughed out, however this time it was more joyful, “Okay.” you smiled. 

  “Okay?” He asked you, smiling even wider. It was an exchange full of smiles and joy. 

  You nodded, giggling at his response, “Okay, lets move to Seoul.”

  You two had gotten a fairly cheap apartment to share for a few months before he found a company called BigHit Entertainment. You were there to urge him to audition, since his shy nature had him doubting himself, making him feel like he wouldn’t make it even if he tried. You were also there to support him outside of his audition when he finally took your advice and went. 

  You both stood outside of the door, his name had just been called. All his nerves had resurfaced and he was tense. He took a quick breath before moving forward to go into the shark pit. 

  “Hey!” You called out, him turning around at the sound of your face. “Good luck, Jiminie.” You smiled at him, crossing your fingers for him.

  “Why need luck when I already have you?” He winked at you, walking backwards. You smiled and shook your head, sitting back down as he turned around walking into the room.

   What seemed like hours passed when in reality it was only a few minutes as you bit your nails, waiting for him to come out of the room. Suddenly the door opened and he walked out. His shoulders were slumped and he had a dull look on his face as he walked towards you. You sighed and took him into your arms.

  “Aw, Jiminie…” You said, attempting to comfort him.

   “Y/n?” he muffled, face nuzzled into your neck.

   “Yes?” You asked as you rubbed circles on his back.

  “I made it.” He smiled into your neck.

  “What.”

  “I made it. I passed the audition.”

  “AISH! Pabo! You had me so scared!” You smacked the back of his head. He laughed out loud as he picked you up, spinning you around. 

   You were there for it. Since his beginning in BigHit as a trainee and his entrance into BTS. You were there for it all. Even when he moved into the dorm with the other six boys, they had accepted you as family just as well as him. You were often seen at the dorm with them, early in the mornings cooking them breakfast before they left, making them lunch and bringing it to them, and cooking them dinner alongside Jin and sometimes Yoongi. In your perspective, it was the least you could do to support them, seeing how hard they worked each day. But you didn’t realize how much it meant to your best friend. You were there for Jimin through it all. For the fourteen-hour practice days, for the weeks in the studio, for the late nights that he cried to you, wanting to give up. But you refused to let him let go of his dream so easily. The whole reason he was here, in this seat and at this award show, was because of you. 

   “Bangtan Sonyeondan.”

  Jimin had been so immersed in his memories with you that he almost missed the way that Park Seo-Joon had announced the winner of Artist of the Year. He closed his eyes in relief, catching a small glance of how Jungkook had put his head in his arms, seeming to give thanks to whoever was on his mind at the time. Probably Army, Jimin thought. He stood up with the rest of his members and began their journey to the big stage. His legs moved, but his mind didn’t, thoughts still clouded with you, wondering how you were reacting right now. He remembered how you reacted when they won their very first Daesang in 2016. 

  He walked into the dressing room when he felt your weight slam into him, almost knocking him to the ground. He quickly steadied himself as his arms circled around your waist. He was expecting screaming, squealing, laughing, something among the spectrum of joy to come from you. What he got instead was a tight hug and your head crooked in his neck, small sniffles coming from you. 

  “Wha- are you crying?” He looked at you, a smile forming on his face. Normally he would tease you, but he had just finished shedding a few tears himself. 

   “Shut up,” you mumbled, making him laugh, “I’m just so proud of you.”

  He smiled at your words and pulled you away, looking into your eyes. They sparkled with the tears that you were shedding, even though they sparkled without them anyway.

  “You did it, Jiminie. You achieved your dreams.” You said, tone close to a whisper. He smiled at you and pulled you back into him.

  “Trust me, it’s only the beginning.”

  He was right. It was only the beginning of BTS’ journey on the charts. He had accomplished many things with BTS, his members serving as his brothers and his best friends, but you held another special place in his heart. Because you were there from the very beginning. Of everything.

  As they reached the mic, Tae had taken it upon himself to give the first speech. Jimin stood there, looking among the crowd at all the fans, amazed. However, his head was still heavily clouded on thoughts of you, and how to thank you for always being there. He was already smiling, but it grew wider as he thought of how you supported him in every little thing, even things such as their variety show, Run BTS.

  It was just before they started shooting the next episode of Run when Jimin had come up to you, your place being behind the cameras. You were sitting next to Manager Sejin, laughing about something. He smiled at how comfortable you looked, among this crazy life of his. How you just fit in. He shook his head at the thought. Of course you fit in, you’ve been there since it all started. 

  You noticed him walking up to you and smiled at him. “Hey.” you smiled.

  “Hey.” He said. You looked him up and down, he wore a nicely fitted suit.

  “Well don’t you look dapper.” You said, giggling. 

  He smirked at you, “Always dressed for the best, madam.” He bowed dramatically, making you transition from giggling to laughing out loud. 

  He walked closer to you and kissed your forehead. 

  “Good luck, Jiminie. I’m rooting for you.” You smirked, knowing how rare it was for him to win a run episode.

  “Luck? Never heard of it. I have you though, so I should be okay.” he smirked back at you before being called back to the set to film the twenty-sixth episode of Run. And just like all those years ago, he won, and of course, he thought it was because his good luck charm was there to support him.

  Jimin looked towards the mic to see that it was Hobi speaking. Jimin was next, and he wasn’t prepared at all. Well, moreover he knew what to say, he just didn’t know how to say it. He racked through his brain trying to find anything to say, but all that came was another memory. 

  “I believe in you, you’ll do fine.” Y/n giggled over the phone.

  Jimin smiled at the sound before looking towards the clock. What was seven o’clock pm here in the United States was ten o’clock over in Korea. Unfortunately you had obligations to attend to at your own job, so traveling with him to the AMAs wasn’t an option. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t set up with a bowl of popcorn and a blanket on your couch with the TV on, ready to watch him and BTS perform.

  “It’s our first performance at an American award show, I just- I’m nervous,” he ran his hand over his face, “If we mess it up then our chances of charting in the U.S. could be ruined, our name mocked, our hard work in ruins.”

  He could almost see the smirk you held over the phone, “Don’t worry about it, Jiminie. I’m watching and I am one-hundred percent sure that you guys will absolutely rock that stage and blow all those American’s socks off!” You giggled.

  He smiled at you over the phone before Tae came to tell him that they’re leaving. “Well I have to go..” he trailed off.

  “Good luck.” You said.

  “You’re my luck, Y/N” he said, letting out a breath.

  Jungkook had to nudge Jimin in the side for Jimin to come back to his senses. He looked around to see that they were all looking at him. He took a deep breath and stepped up to the microphone.

  “Um, I’m sure that the others had already thanked everyone they needed to thank. I want to, of course, dedicate this award to Army, and thank you all for everything you all have done,” he smiled at the loud roar of cheers. “Over the years, over all the award shows we’ve attended and all the awards we have won, I have thanked many people. From my family, to my teachers, to our managers, our producers, the rest of the staff and Bang PD, and of course, my brothers,” he glanced at BTS who were all smiling at him, “but there’s one person I have yet to thank, and they probably are the one person that deserves it the most.” He took a deep breath. He wasn’t nervous of Army’s reaction, they already knew you existed. You had joined him for many V-Lives, made appearances with him at a few award shows and parties, and even sang a cover with him. No, he was more nervous about getting his point across.

  “Y/N,” he said, smiling at the uproar of cheers from his fans at your name, “you have always been present and a part of my life for the past twenty years. I still remember when we were five and six and we bonded over our shared love of pirates when I came to greet you to the neighborhood for the first time.” He chuckled, letting out a few tears. He was emotional, to say the least. “You’ve always been there to support me in absolutely every journey I have ever encountered and have celebrated with me for every accomplishment I have achieved. You were the one to convince me to audition for BigHit, and you refused to let me quit when things became too rough. I don’t think I could have made it this far without you. I just wanted to say thank you for that, and most of all, thank you for being my best friend.” He ended his little speech, claps and cheers following. Lastly, Namjoon stepped up to the microphone to give his ending speech before they left.

  Jimin’s thoughts however, didn’t leave you. He kept thinking about how you reacted to his speech, dedicated to you. Whether you were crying or squealing in the dressing room backstage. 

  Yes, you were here too. Sitting in the dressing room watching everything. He remembered earlier, before he went on stage to perform.

  “Good luck, Jiminie.” You whispered, holding your pinky out.

  He smiled at you, hooking his finger with yours, “Why need luck when I already have you?”

  He stood there as Namjoon gave his speech. Jimin was deep into his thoughts about you. How you were there for everything, for twenty years, for his wins and his losses, for his crazy life. How he was without a doubt, undeniably, and sickenly in love with you. It appears that it just took him this long to figure out that you had always been there, present in his life, and that he wouldn’t rather have anyone else by his side.

  They started walking back to the dressing room and the boys were all congratulating each other. Staff and other idols were congratulating them as they passed by but they were all a blur to Jimin, as his one goal was to find you. Once he located the dressing room, he took a big breath before opening it and walking in.

  And there you stood, looking at him expectantly, tears streaming down your face. With that first glance towards you also came a rush of confidence. He walked over to you in large strides and slammed his lips onto yours, one hand on your cheek and the other on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. It took you a couple seconds to process what was happening, but you started to kiss back, tears still streaming down your face. The boys in the background were wolf-whistling and cheering. Jimin was pretty sure he heard Jungkook yell something along the lines of ‘finally’ but he didn’t care. All he wanted was you, however the need for oxygen was too much and he pulled away slowly. 

  You looked up at him with teary eyes, but your lips curled into a shy smile, kind of like the same smile that you gave him when you two met for the very first time.

  “Hey, Little Luck.” He mumbled, staring into your eyes. His nickname for you was fitting, he had given it to you when he won his first taekwondo match that you went to, just having turned twelve.  

  You giggled, “Hi, Jiminie..” You glanced at the boys and your cheeks turned pink. Your eyes flickered back to him before you let out a breath, “You did it Jiminie. You made history.” You stated, smiling wider.

  He grinned at you, gave you a peck on the lips, and another on your forehead. “Not without you, I couldn’t have.”

  You two stood there for a couple seconds before you pulled away with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous glint in your eye.

  “So is this your confession where you tell me how much you love me and how perfect I am?” You teased, running your fingers through his hair.

  He barked out a laugh and grinned wolfishly at you, “Indeed it is, Little Luck, indeed it is.”

  You laughed with him, “Well I guess it’s only fitting to say that I love you too.” 

  And in this moment, Jimin knew you were going to be there for him for the long run, the rest of his life. Well, he had always known that, but now it just took on a whole new meaning. Not only would you be there as his best friend, but as his lover. And he couldn’t wait to embark on more journeys and adventures with you as his right-hand woman, giving you all the care and love you deserve from all the years of continuous and endless support you provided him. No, he didn’t need any luck in moving on with his life and career, because he already had you. The End.

[lamalefix]

Okay so, a couple of weeks ago started my new journey.

I've been reorienting a bit in the past few years.

As much as I loved and will always love psychology, developmental and learning psychology specifically, brain (to be read exclusively with zombie-like voice) and its physiology, disorders and rehabilitation and so on, I found that Human Resources was a field so interconnected with what I studied and caught my interest. It didn’t always have my interest, I thought at first that this kind of organizational, managerial thing wasn’t fit for me but...

... Sometimes life treats you good when you least expect it, sometimes the things you do, the tiny choices you make on the road, change your life, your journey completely.

And it's quite a long story so sit down, take a cup of tea and let me tell you this story...

Please note that I’d use nicknames for the story, not because I want to add privacy at the matter but because I usually use those names with my friends (I’m weird, I know)

We live in a pretty chill, green area in Rome. 

For some reason beyond my knowledge, when we bought our apartment, back in 1998, we ended up to live near my godmother. 

She had a couple of dogs, and has a lot of dog-friends and dog-owners-friends. 

A lot of you know I have a dog (Zelda, that beautiful silly golden retriever who loves to snuggle with my shoes), and when this story started, due to my internships and different jobs around the city, was usually my ma the one who took her on her strolls. 

Before we decided to get a dog, right after my master's degree graduation ceremony my godfather (my godmother's husband) died. 

It hit hard. At five in the morning on a cold day at the end of january my godmother called and told us the news. He had a heart attack and died on the spot, while working. 

I clearly remember the last conversation I had with him, a couple of days before he died. He was walking his dog and I was waiting the bus under our homes. He was always so funny, he made a joke, and if I close my eyes everytime I step near that bus stop, I still hear him laugh and huff something along the lines of “Urgh going to the gym at this god-awful hour by bus, you really want to suffer”, and I smile everytime. But aside of my weird choices about my fitness life, this isn’t the story I want to tell you about.

After his funeral, for the next months before my internship started, I practically only slept at my house but lived at my godmother's to help out. So there I met two beautiful men (in both the inner and outer sense), that we’ll call Grey Fox and Tall-n-young, that lived across the road. They had dogs, Grey Fox had two adorable sausages dachshounds and Tall-n-young a chubby half-beagle. My ma just fit in, like a clockwork, rolled around them, every evening walked with them without a dog, but with them and my godmother, her sister and their dogs. (The story of how my godmother found her new stray dog on her husband's grave and he looked at her when she called him with her husband's nickname is for another time but... You know). 

Meanwhile, my dad at work meets a new coworker whose wife is a pet trainer. And everything clicks in the right place. 

I went to met Zelda (fishing my hand into the litter and she chose me by licking and snuggling against me - and my shoe) only a few months later.

But this isn't the story of how I met my dog either. This is the story of how I met my boss and how I decided I wanted the HR Management field to be something to pursue.

I met my boss, mentor and friend in a very weird moment of my life. I was finishing two contemporary internships at a Private Centre and a University Centre that offered help to families with kids with developmental and learning disorders. Up til that moment I knew my job would have been in that field, developmental psychology and rehabilitation, even if it was a stressful place to be at some point. I wanted to be a psychologist since age 5, not a princess, never a princess, who cares for princesses? I worked, without being paid (because that's how internships work for psychologists in Italy) more than 40 hours a week, from monday to saturday 8 am to 8/9 pm, and I hat to take a lot of work, papers and so on home, for over two years... And you'd say, "Why Giulia did you like it so much?".

One of my friend urged me to quit because I was so tired, couldn’t find time for myself and I just found out I couldn't enter the PhD I wanted, but I needed my abilitation at least, be a psychologist.

Meanwhile my ma was always around with the dogs and her new friends. She met Lovely, another dog owner who took a liking in me. A beautiful lovely girl, who sadly had a very aggressive cancer, that took her away three years ago.

One day Grey Fox who shared his birthday with Lovely invites me over along with my ma and my dog, because Lovely wanted me there. I never met Grey Fox’s partner up til that moment, everyone said he worked a lot, everyone said he did weird hours and travelled a lot, and he was doing something very similiar to what I studied, he worked as something like a therapist. (Something you’d call a life coach, in hindsight),

So, when I get there I finally met him, we will call him Nose-y (because you know, he has a pretty big nose), my boss, my mentor. He was sitting on that beige sofa in Grey Fox’s house, one of the dachshunds licking the back of his head, the other snuggling on his lap. And we start to talk. About tv series, about psychology, therapy, schoo, learning processes, about work and career paths. He said he was about to quit is job and move forward to get something done by his own hands, and open up what you'd call a start-up in coaching and HR management. 

He wants me on his boat, he wants me to help him.

And that's how it started.

But not when I decided I wanted to go in this direction. As I said HR management and coaching per se, are like very close and interconnected with psychology, but I always sat on another corner, walking another path. Preferring underlying brain processes and biology more than production and management. 

That decision was took sometime later. 

After he quit his job as a top manager and Lovely died, after i got my abilitation and started to help out as a volunteer with elders, homeless and people with social and financial difficulties.

One day Nose-y asks if I want to join him and an actress and acting teacher, a beautiful woman that we’ll call Blondie, in one of their workshops. 

We end up in the centre of Rome, in a theatre right behind Piazza Navona. The participants were members of a high performing team of a big org, I don’t remember the names, and I wouldn’t even if I tried. 

They enter at some point in the theatre, and it doesn't need a psychologist to know that they are broken. Blondie makes me sit behind the light and sound effect technic table, and instructs me how to help out with that. Music, lights, enable their (our?) method to be even more effective. 

The theatre is a underground thing, like a cavern-ish, basement in the centre of Rome, a typical thing you’d call a cellar that you’d find in old buildings. 

I didn't know when I went there that morning, at the end of june, that I'd make some final decision by sunset.

The team, I was saying, was a tiny super-high performing team. But with high performance comes high stress level. And one of them killed himself. And they found him in the morning, in their office. And in that dark theatre they were blaming each other, and Luigi and Marta's job was to accompany them through grief and acceptance and restore their team work. By the end of the day, they were all more able to communicate, to listen, to help each other.

That was the moment. When I saw them leave, Nose-y and Blondie all tired and all wilt on a couch, but satisfied that I decided. I wanted to change, to be a better person, maybe a better manager, for a better future. I wanted to be one of the many people who work in HR Management that can be a support for emplyees, I wanted to be the change, to be there to help managing that work/life balance. 

I don't know where this journey will lead me, I don’t know if I’d make it, if I’d get to be the better version of myself, the better version of what i wanted to be when this thing first started but... 

I’m on my way and the only thing I can say is, it’s never too late to change direction, to pursue another dream, to have a new vision of that future you want to build. 

It’s never too late. You can always grow up.