#the first three were a shoo-in but the rest i fucking STRUGGLED because i love SO MANY

[zacksfairest]

tagged by my most beloved @rorohara!!! thank you so much because i was DYING to do this lmao

challenge: make a poll with five of your all-time favorite characters, and then tag five people to do the same. see which character is everyone's favorite

@soartfullydone @editoress @sycamorre @serpenthyne @hanalghilan

[cedricslover]

can you write a oneshot with wolfstars daughter dating george

Here you go bestie<33 thank u for requesting!!

As a wolfstar shipper and a George girl myself😌, I hope you like this bestie<33

Pairings: Sirius x Remus, George x Fem! Reader

Warnings: some homophobia at the beginning, teasing Sirius Black lmaooo

Word Count: 2.4k

“You want a future with me?”

“Hello dear” you turned around and saw one of your fathers, “Dad!” you jumped and hugged him, you just got off the Hogwarts express, this would be your last summer break since you’re going to be seventh year the next time you step at Hogwarts. 

“How’s my baby girl?” He looked at you as you broke the hug, you smiled at the sight of him “Doing great, where’s dad?” you looked around while he picked up your trunk, “Here!” you heard the voice of your other father and your heart jumped out of joy when you saw him, you ran to him and hugged him too. 

“Here’s a chocolate for our princess” he handed you a bar of chocolate, “Remus! You ruined my moment with her, you should show up at the exit, not here, you’re ruining my quality time with our daughter!” suddenly Sirius was having a tantrum, not likely a tantrum actually, he was just whining. 

“No” Remus answered and looked away while he bit into his own chocolate bar. You laughed at them, “Stop acting like kids” you said and linked your arms to theirs. 

“Excuse us?” They both said in unison and looked at you, their forehead creasing that made you laugh even more. 

“You may” you nodded while closing your eyes and your parents just looked at each other, and it seemed like they were blaming the other one as to why you are so sarcastic.

“Let’s just go home” you dragged them by the arms since theirs are still linked to yours. You giggled as you saw Sirius not even struggling while carrying your trunk and at the same time being dragged by his daughter, and giggled even more when you saw your other dad who was just eating his chocolate quietly while observing the surroundings. 

You three were just like a happy family, parents picking up their child that came from a boarding school, if it weren’t just the ugly looks the people gave you.

It seems like Sirius was also bothered by how people looked at the three of you, seriously? Can’t they just manage their own business. 

Remus on the other hand was like used to it, he didn’t show any bothered expression, he didn't want to feed their satisfaction. That is something you got from him, that’s why you just let the people be, but of course, Sirius being Sirius.

He removed his arms from your link and grabbed Remus' face and took a bite from the chocolate that was centimeters away from his lips-being that he was eating it, your eyes widened registering how did that happen so fast, your jaw dropped, and a smile slowly formed in your lips as you saw Remus turning scarlet. 

 “Gross” you removed your arm that was around Remus’ and walked past them, your smile didn’t left your lips as you see mixed reactions from the crowd at the station, some were smiling, some were confused, some were probably uncomfortable, and of course, the people who were obvious to be insulted or disgusted. 

Needless to say, Sirius is your father, so you flicked those people who looked openly disgusted by them, they were sneering, frowning, and rolling their eyes.

“Fuck off git” you mouthed as you walk, turning to them while your middle fingers were greeting them. 

“Good job princess” Sirius laughed and high fived you as you three arrived at the front of number 12 Grimmauld Place, you weren’t sure what was the good job for, is it for flicking those people off or for successfully apparating, you decided to shrug it off and just viewed the house, it was your father’s ancestral home, it was filled by terrible memories of his childhood but with you three living there, it was all buried deep down. 

You unconsciously stared at the beautiful house that was concealed in the muggles eyes. You felt nostalgic seeing your dads walking towards the door, memories from your childhood appeared in front of you.

A girl in a yellow flowy dress, around the age of four, was running towards two men with their arms open wide, expecting that the little girl would run to them instead of the other, but what they didn’t expect was the little girl would run straight to the space between them and both hug them from the necks. 

The little girl was giggling while her dads were teary eyed, that’s when they realized, she never had favorites, if she had the choice to not choose, she wouldn’t. 

“Y/N?” Remus called you from the doorstep, his head was cocking from the door. “Oh!” you ran to the door “call me before dinner yeah?” you told Remus as you removed your shoes. You raised your gaze to him with flashing eyes and maintained eye contact, waiting for his answer. 

“Alright” he replied to you, you felt sudden joy not even sure why but it did make you kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks!, Love you dad!” you shouted as you ran towards the stairs, 

“HOW ABOUT ME?!” you heard Sirius who was probably at the kitchen doing Merlin knows what, “I LOVE YOU TOO!” you yelled while you ran the stairway. 

“YOU BETTER BE NOT PREGNANT WITH THAT WEASLEY BOY’S CHILD Y/N!” Remus’ voice echoed and you laughed and stopped from entering your room and peeked down while holding at the stair rails.

“DON’T WORRY, I’M NOT PREGNANT!” you shouted back and you heard his sigh of relief, “YET!” you added and sprinted to your room and closed the door. 

You heard both of their voices shouting your name. You cackle while heading to your study table, your room was cozy, it was filled with different drawings you made when you were a child, there was your very first black leather jacket that Sirius gave you before he bought you a bicycle, it was hanging from a corner, properly displayed, he was expecting you to like motorbikes like he did, and you did, you like riding motorbikes. 

There was also your very first hair accessories that Remus bought for you, hair pins, hair clips, headbands, and many more. He was the one who likes to tidy you up, even before you make yourself dirty by running and riding the bike. Of course Remus struggled but thankfully, Lily did teach him a few hairstyles when they were teenagers, and the rest of his knowledge came from going to different hair salons just to ask how to style his daughter’s hair. 

An owl bumped on your window that made your brows raise and shift your head to that direction. 

“Errol?” you said the name of the owl and he dropped a letter to your hand before he headed to your table and lay down, acting very exhausted, of course to your utter panic you immediately got water and placed it in front of him. You sighed as he drank through the container, enough for him to drink. 

While he relaxed you opened the letter. 

Hello beautiful, 

                   I’ll arrive there at six, see you. 

Your husband, 

George

You bit your lower lip and smiled, then you forgot, you haven’t told your dads yet. Without wasting any time, you apparated to the kitchen. 

“Hey” you voice lingered behind their backs and they jumped, they turned their heads to you with wide eyes, “You don’t do that here” Sirius said while holding his chest, “I almost had a heart attack” he glared at you while you just tried to not laugh,

“You’re just getting old dad” you stated that made him glare at you more, Remus smiled very very sweetly at you, trying to bribe you to not say it “and you too” you smiled back, looking at their sour faces. 

“Enough” Remus raised both of his hands and shaked it, trying to shoo you. “I was about to say that George’s arriving at si-” you didn’t have the chance to finish your sentence when someone knocked at the door. 

“I’ll get it” you announced, you three were quite tensed as to who might be at the door, you weren’t expecting visitors this early, it wasn't 6 o'clock yet. 

You opened the door, ready to run back to the kitchen if something goes wrong, but what greeted who was something-or someone, who had a mischievous smile, his red hair shining because of the sun, and his brown eyes gleaming at you. 

“Hello dove” his smile became wider as he caught the perfect view of his girlfriend, her Y/H/C hair complimenting her skin, the eyes that were obviously shocked to see him, and the smile that slowly formed on her soft lips. 

“George!” you mentioned his name when you processed who was standing in front of you, he gave you a peck on the lips before he grabbed your waist and pushed you carefully to the side so he can walk, “hello Sirs” he cleared his throat and rubbed both of his hand on his pants before giving your fathers a hand shake. 

This would probably be their very first ‘formal’ meeting, they already met each other at Hogwarts, during the Triwizard tournament, but that wasn’t formal enough, unlike now. 

George was scratching the back of his neck and was being really nervous, you just surveyed them, and when you noticed something it was too late because your mouth opened before you can even think twice

“Dad, you’re the smallest” you told Sirius that made the three of them look at you, firstly George was shaking his head slightly, trying to tell you that it was not the right time, then Remus was also looking at you, he was trying his best to cross his brows but you can see the ghost of smile that was in his face, on the other hand, Sirius was there shooting daggers at you with his eyes like you’re not his child, then he slowly looked at Remus and George. 

George was obviously the tallest, but only an inch taller than Remus, while Sirius, he’s just not a six footer. 

“I-uh come George let’s prepare the table” even though it was still early, you reached for George’s hand, still feeling the stares of your father, you wanted to laugh, so hard, but he might not buy you your favorite cereal, so you chose to suck it up.

“Why’d you do that?” George started talking as you fetched his wand and used it to prepare the table using magic, “it was my mouth’s fault, anyway, you told me you're arriving at six, it's not six yet” you answered and watched the floating plates and utensils. 

“I was trying my best not to laugh dove, please don’t do that again in front of your parents, I might lose goodie points, and I meant six minutes not six o'clock” he chuckled as he hugged you from the back, wrapping his arms around your waist and laying his chin on the top of your head. 

“Even if you lose goodie points, I’ll still love you don’t worry” you faced him and cupped his face, his face that was always as perfect, those freckles that can make a constellation, his eyes that you would prefer to look at rather than the stars, and his hair that would always stand out. 

It was like a magnetic pull, your faces was slowly getting nearer and nearer, almost there, the finish line, his lips onto yours, inches turned to an inch, heartbeats getting fast, and you can feel his breath, then his soft lips was supposed to be next 

Not until someone cleared their throat that made you push George out of reflex. 

“No snogging in this house, you understand that angel?” Sirius crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, “Yes dad” you replied, slightly embarrassed so you chose to continue to prepare the table while George can’t maintain eye contact with you or anyone in the room. 

“Sorry dad” you walked to Sirius who was still in the entrance of the kitchen, surprisingly he smiled at you, “Yeah that’s for bullying me” he wrapped his arms over your shoulder “But about that almost kiss? I’m not mad don’t worry, we all kiss someone at some time” he added like it was just common sense for him to not get mad.

“I love you” you said out of the blue while you two watched Remus and George laughing at the dinner table, you rested your head on his chest, “I love you more princess” you felt him kiss the top of your head. 

“Just walk with the boy outside while we clean here alright?” Remus looked at you and George, he tapped George’s shoulder before he turned his back to the both of you and be with Sirius who was still drinking wine at the table. 

“Come on” George called you and touched your back to guide you, your eyes were still looking at your parents, mesmerized by their strong bond. 

“Georgie?” you tried to get his attention while you two walked the dim lighted streets, only the flickering lamp posts and the moon were the sources of light. 

“Hmm?” he was busy playing your hand, touching every bit of it, and even comparing it to his. “You think we would be like them?” you stopped on your tracks, feeling the night summer breeze brushing your skin, "Like who love?" He stared at you, now holding your hand firmly, "Sirius and Remus" you answered and tucked the few strands of hair that was bothering your face because of the wind,  you looked at his eyes and saw amusement and adoration all over it.

“You’re asking me that?” a lopsided smile appeared on his face, you nodded slightly as an answer, “You’re thinking of marrying me?” he asked you again, now giving a full smile, you nodded again, “You," he pointed to you "want a future with me?” he pointed to himself, his eyes smiling the same as his lips, you nodded again, oblivious of how that made George’s inner monologues that was doubting what would happen with the both of you disappear, because who wouldn’t, you’re Y/N, raised by two amazing people, you’re beautiful, intelligent, bold, and many more that he would even consider you as perfect. 

And you’re here, saying that you wanted a future with him. 

Now, with the moon smiling at the both of you, the stars being your cheerleaders, your lips met, you hooked your arms around his neck while he cups your face with one hand and the other holding your waist. 

At this night, two teenagers shared a kiss under a lamp post, during the summer of 1995. 

[volleychumps]

hii! can I request headcanons/scenario (up to you) to kuroo's first year sister becoming nekoma's manager (also kuroo is a little overprotective) and the team going to a training camp with the others for the fist time? thank you in advance!

 Awh yes of course this prompt made my heart go !!! This is a tad crack-filled but it has its’ sappy moments, I hope you enjoy!!

The Younger Kuroo

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

“And what do we say when a boy asks for your number?” 

“Oh please, jump into my bed. I’ve been waiting.” 

You dodge the thump to the forehead from Kuroo’s thumb as you hide behind a cackling Yaku, who wiped a tear from his eyes at the promise of death in your older brother’s eyes. 

“No. Try again.” 

“I’m not five~” you whine, stretching your legs out from the slightly cramped bus ride. You loved Lev like a brother, but his legs hardly gave you any room to sit comfortably. Said boy hadn’t even realized until towards the end of the ride, panicking and taking your bags up for you as an apology with a sheepish grin on his cat-like features. 

Kai thumps your head for Kuroo, causing you to protest. “Kai! I’m supposed to be your favorite!” 

“Keep making jokes about bringing boys into your bed and you won’t be.” 

“Um sir, I’m actually going to be sleeping on a futon-” 

You dodge the next flick to your head, grumbling about how your brother’s team abuses their own manager as you run ahead to catch up with Kenma, ignoring the agitated calls for your ass to get back there from your brother. 

Kuroo rolls his eyes at the actions of his younger sister, watching Kenma show you what he was playing as Yaku brings a hand up to his neck, the three third-years watching with slightly worried expressions as their little sister figure hops onto Inuoka’s back. 

“Will she really be okay?” 

“She’s smart. She can take care of herself.” 

“MORI, INUOKA ATE MY COOKIES!” 

“I BOUGHT THEM FOR YOU-”

“Inuoka don’t steal her snacks! She’s still growing!” 

Kuroo sighs, the captain raising a hand to his eyes as Kai grins lopsidedly next to him, looking a little apologetic. 

“Nevermind. She’s a dumbass.” 

“So...we should worry about her?” 

This would be a long training camp. 

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

“Yamamoto, bend your knees a little more.” You instruct, resting a hand on the boy’s back as Yamamoto nervously looks to the side in case Kuroo was looking. You roll your eyes, applying more pressure. Your brother’s overprotective nature was funny at times, but not when it got into your duties as team manager. 

“Are you really her?!” 

“Bokuto, I said no!” 

You blink, hiding behind Yamamoto on instinct as a boy with burly arms and silver hair came running towards you, excitement brimmed in his gold irises as Kuroo holds his collar with an irk mark. A second guy with slightly disheveled hair came walking in tow, hands stuffed in his pockets as if this were an every day occurence. You focus in on their shirts. Fukurodani Academy. 

“Huh? Wait...” The Fukurodani member looks deep in thought. “She’s like, totally cute. What happened to you?” 

“Akaashi, please claim your pet.” Kuroo snips, but before the second boy can step forward, you’re laughing and stepping out from your hiding place and extending a hand to the silver haired boy, who grips it excitedly as he ignores Kuroo’s protests. 

“I’m Kuroo Y/N! The totally cuter sibling.” 

“Bokuto Kotaro! You can call me Bokuto onee-chan!” 

“No you cannot.” 

“...Bo onee-chan?” you offer a bit timidly, ignoring the glower from your older brother as you hide your smirk. 

Bokuto swooned, causing the second boy to nudge him, an amused look tickling his features as he bows respectfully. 

“Akaashi Keiji.” 

“Keiji-Kun?” You grin, and the blue-eyed boy takes on a look of surprise and seems to ponder it for a moment, nodding his head before bowing again. 

“We’ll be taking our leave, Kuroo-san.” 

“Call me Y/N!” You call, the setter turning slightly in their depart to nod to you as Bokuto fist pumps the air, claiming you were totally his type before you zone in on your unamused older brother, whose arms were crossed as you grin a little sheepishly. 

“You’re telling me you know those two hotties and you’ve never bothered to set me up?” 

“Y/N-” 

“Joking! It was a joke!” You say a little too quickly, jogging off to encourage Kenma to get his ass off the bench as Kuroo groans, tugging Kai and Yaku off to the sidelines. 

“...yeah. we might need to worry.” 

“What are you talking about?” Mori laughs. “She’s not a kid, Kuroo. We don’t need to look after her as much as we did before.”

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

“Literally fuck what I said before.” 

“Just how the hell did she manage to befriend the whole Karasuno team?” Kuroo grits out, Bokuto chuckling to his side as Akaashi reminds Kuroo not to snap his chopsticks in half. 

“Even Tsukki isn’t telling her to leave his sight. Is she magic or what?” 

The event where you were sitting between the vice-captain and wing spiker of the Karasuno team during that evening meal had begun when the captain had accidentally sent a receive towards your head, the goregous team manager managing to protect you in time with a swift wave of her hand. The vice-captain had rushed up to you in a hurry, apologizing profusely before the hyper libero invited you to come eat dinner with them, claiming he would buy you anything you wanted from the snack vendors afterwards. 

“Daichi, if you don’t stop apologizing, I will press charges.” You warn, placing more rice in your mouth as Yachi giggles from across you, eyes curious. 

“It’s hard to believe you’re Kuroo-san’s little sister, Y/N.” 

“You’re not scary...at all. Are you sure you two are related?” Hinata blanches, pretending he can’t see the glower from the captain across the cafeteria. You shrug, shooing the offered fried katsu from Sugawara’s chopsticks away. 

“Eat, Suga. I’m not dead.” You huff, turning to reply to your new friend. “And Hinata, don’t talk with your mouth full. Sadly, we came from the same womb and he was my first bully.”

The fact that you were both first years made you get along easily with the freckled boy, Yachi, Hinata, and even the genius blue-eyed setter and the tall middle blocker managed to engage in conversation with you one or two times. You noticed that the boy who claimed a little too boisterously to call him “Tanaka-Senpai” and the libero “Nishinoya-senpai” were looking at you with stars in your eyes before cutting you off mid-conversation. 

“Was being saved by Kiyoko a mesmerizing experience?” 

“Daichi, why don’t you throw a volleyball at their head so they can see?” 

“Suga, I said I was sorry, I feel bad enough!”

“You hurt a kouhai!” Suga over dramticizes, playfully creating a human shield between you and the captain. “You don’t even deserve to look at her!” 

You laugh, the laugh dwindling slightly when you meet Kuroo’s eyes from across the room. The team all look down at once, Lev pouting and Yaku seeming to be a little more quiet as Yamamoto and Fukunaga pretend to carry on a conversation. 

The captain looks away quickly, and you frown, focusing on your meal. It looks like you were going to have an unexpected team meeting tonight. 

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

“All right. Why is everyone on edge?” You throw the door open, not even flinching when some of your boys were in the middle of putting their shirts on. Lev and Inuoka both squeal overdramatically, covering their bodies. 

“Y/N you perv!” 

“Oh shut up, you always walk around shirtless and I say nothing!” You protest, plopping down in your brother’s futon. “Where is Kuroo anyway?” 

“Out. You know you can’t be in the boys’ dorms this late, Y/N. Do you want me to walk you?” Yaku crosses his arms strictly, and you sidle up to Kenma before resting your head on his shoulder tiredly, the boy you grew up with not even reacting as he continues to tap away on his console. 

“Nope.” You pop the p. “I just feel like I should say something. So gather around, chums.” 

“What, are you british now?” 

“Lev I seem to remember asking you to gather around, not hit me with an attitude.” You reply sassily, clapping your hands together. “Group circle. Now.” 

“She does have that captain vibe.” Yamamoto mumbles to Fukunaga as he simply nods in response. As your boys gather, you wait for them to settle before starting. 

“Okay, so welcome to alcoholic’s anonymous-” 

“Never mind. She doesn’t have a captain vibe, I must’ve been crazy.”

“Hi I’m Inuoka, and-

“Get to the point Y/N.” Kai says seriously as he yawns. You cross your legs, pressing the off button on Kenma’s console before looking at each of them individually, a seriousness in your eyes that was rarely there. 

“You do know I love you guys, right? Just because we’re at a training camp doesn’t mean I like the other teams more than I like you...so I wanted to say I’m sorry if it seemed like I was being a little neglectful...” You trail off, fiddling with your fingers. “I know some of you see me as your younger sister, and I really really don’t want you guys to feel like you guys are replaceable, because you aren’t.” 

You look up to see a mixture of surprise as some near tears (Lev and Inuoka) before you hastily add,  “And thus that ends my cheesy speech. Anyway, I struggle with high-amounts of alcohol consumption-” 

You’re cut off when the first years tackle you into a hug, crying they’re really glad you’re their manager as you struggle to breathe. You look up after you manage to shove them off, Yaku ruffling your hair as Kai crosses his arms with a satisfied grin on his face. Even Kenma had a little smile on his face before turning his console back on. 

“Sis.” 

You freeze up. It was time to face the final boss. Your head turns to sheepishly smile at Kuroo before he rolls his eyes, jutting his head to the side slightly. 

“I’ll walk you out.” 

“Goodnight Y/N!” 

“We love you!” 

“Speak for yourself-” 

“Shut up Kenma, we know you do.” 

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

“So you heard?” You walk next to your older brother, arms swinging loosely as Kuroo hums in response, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. 

“It was nice for you to clarify.” Kuroo speaks after a few brief moments of comfortable silence. “For awhile, we were the only team that didn’t have a manager to deal with us, so I’m not surprised they got a little worried seeing you cozy up to other teams. One might say even a little possessive.” 

Kuroo stops, and you turn curiously to face your brother. 

“It honestly makes me really scared to think one of these bastards might steal my little sister away. None of them are deserving of you, and I’ll be damned if I let you think that they are.”

You blink. Kuroo saying nice things seemed to only happen once in a blue moon. 

“Tetsurou-nii.” You say softly, tugging on Kuroo’s sleeve. “I’m not a kid anymore, you know? I’m not that middle schooler that always followed you and your friends around, having an unexplainable crush on Kenma-” 

“Get to the point.” 

“I’m happy you care.” You hug him, feeling Kuroo relax into your embrace. “But you gotta let me grow up some day, you know? And that thing about none of the team being replaceable?” 

Your grip tightens just a little more. “You’re the one it applies to the most. You’re my one and only older brother who pisses me off at times, but...I...ugh god....why is this so hard? I uh... l-love you, big bro.” 

You feel a hand rest on the top of your head as Kuroo sighs. “I love you too, little sis, so stop saying gross stuff.” 

“Then don’t pout at me from across the cafeteria!” 

“Who the hell was pouting? Me? You must be losing your sight, crazy woman.” 

“At least my hair doesn’t look like a duck’s ass.” 

“At least I’m tall.” 

“Don’t be bitter because you weren’t apart of our alcoholic’s anonymous meeting-” 

and so, both Kuroo’s walked and laughed all the way to the girls’ housing, the atmosphere significantly lighter than it had once been. 

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

“What business do you have with our manager, oi?” 

“Yamamoto, let Tanaka and Noya say bye.” You scold, highfiving them with both hands before Daichi approaches, Sugawara by his side as the captain of Karasuno hands you a steaming bag of Taiyaki.

“Share with your friends. This is my official apology. We’ll see you soon, Y/N.” The captain smiles warmly before turning to Suga. “Happy now?” 

“No, you abuser. Goodbye little kouhai!!” 

You wave to Hinata, Yachi, and Yamaguchi from a distance, Tsukishima and Kageyama both simply nodding to you as you shake your phone a little, signalling each of them to text you with the number you gave them with a bright smile. 

“Y/N don’t leave without saying bye to your nii-chan!” 

“Never, Bo-onii!” You cry overdramatically as Bokuto spins you around, Akaashi setting one hand on your head with a slight nod and a smile tickling his lips. It was honestly crazy how close you got with these people in three days, but who was complaining? 

“On the bus. Now.” Kuroo picks you up mid-spin from Bokuto’s grasp as you stick your tongue out, offering your final waves to everyone before Kai simply picks you up by the collar and quite literally drags you onto the bus. 

“Oh, did I miss my abusive boys.” You roll your eyes as you’re seated promptly next to Lev, who kindly kept his legs in check to give you enough room on the bus. “Who wants Taiyaki? Daichi-senpai treated us!” 

“Is Daichi the one? I called dibs, already!” Lev whines as the pastries are passed around, the bus settling into motion before Kuroo delivers a chop to the first-year’s head, who quickly claims it was a joke before a laugh bubbles up in your throat. 

Yeah. Your boys were a bit of a handful. 

“Yaku, you can’t have two!” 

“It just means Y/N loves me more.” 

“I’m her brother, you can’t compete.” 

“Shut up, she hates you half the time.” 

“No one asked you, Kenma!” 

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[oftenderweapons]

Sooo, about the ask thing. First off all congratulations I love you and your writing 💜 you seem like such a nice, intelligent and funny person. But was thinking what if namjoon comes home drunk and guilty about something he did and vixen comforts him. Love u💋

Title: Drunk (&) In Love

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 2.6k

Genre: crack, fluff, (also, vaguely allusive)

Rating: 18+ cause THESE TWO ARE A MESS FOR EACH OTHER

Synopsis: apparently Namjoon's stag party went a bit too wild. Mostly since he was drinking guilt away. What could that possibly be about?

Trigger warnings: swearing, consumption of alcohol, horny!drunk Joon, he clumsily tries to seduce his fianceé in front of yoonjintae (second-hand embarrassment), stressing over vows, mentions of kinky letters, they discuss future and the fear of marrying young and pretty much out of the blue and they be mentioning the idea of having kids. Also, watch Vixen being the caregiver.

Author's note: Thanking the sweetheart @ironicarmy !!! I love exchanging WIPs and Beta reading! It was so fun and I AM LOVING YOUR WIP SO HARD IM GONNA EXPLODE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! can't wait for it to be out so I can fangirl in public LOLOLOL; also thanking @dopesportsoperatorzonk for this request! (I got your feminism ask, I promise I'm almost done, I wanted to have a quite thorough view before replying and I'm still thinking about some stuff, but it'll be readdy super soon!!!)

Here's my masterlist, btw, and enjoy 💜✨

You weren't supposed to wait up for him, but it was like your sixth sense was telling you to do precisely that. And your premonition turned especially accurate once you were met with the sorry sight of Namjoon hanging off Taehyung's and Seokjin's body, grinning as he saw you appear at the door, head to toe smitten, only to turn to his friends with a sneer as he realised you were wearing his favourite silk robe. The deep crimson colour seemed to spark the colour of your hair on fire, and make the lineaments of your face sharper, older, with a kind of allure he still couldn't understand. “Little fox,” he said, going grabby hands while his arms were still around his friends' shoulders.

You tried to keep your expression stern as you looked at the two men literally holding him up. “What is this? Didn't I tell you to bring him home whole and safe?”

Taehyung lowered his gaze to the floor.

“Is this your idea of safe, Seokjin? I expected better.”

“You know him. He did this to himself.” Yoongi spoke neutrally from behind the three.

“Yoongi. Him being a fucking grizzly doesn't mean he can hold his liquor. Bring him in,” you said, freeing the entryway for the triplet coming in, Yoongi in tow.

“We should have brought him to the dorms,” he muttered.

“Dorms?!? Aneeyo…” Namjoon babbled, shaking his head, falling with his ass on the sofa. “No babylove in dorms,” he said with a hiccup. “Hello, little one,” he purred, grabbing your hips and trying to pull you towards him.

You blushed and slapped at his wrists. “I'll deal with you later—”

“Feisty brat,” he spoke sultrily, making Yoongi shake his head while Seokjin and Taehyung snickered before being chastised by your scolding stare.

“How come he's drunk off his ass and the three of you are perfectly okay?”

“He's the one getting married,” Taehyung replied, matter of factly. “And yes, he was the one who swallowed a bottle of hard liquor without even flinching.”

You glance at Namjoon with a scornful expression.

He did some very drunk, very clumsy attempt at a wink that made you inhale as you desperately looked for a crumb of patient left.

“You'd better go home, before I smack you all on the head,” you said, shooing them off.

“You'd have to reach it first,” Taehyung muttered, making Seokjin giggle, Yoongi rubbing his face at the verbal violence that was about to come.

“Kim Taehyung. I may not be tall enough for your royal head, but your girlfriend is my best friend. I won't say much more because I'm sure your friends aren't interested in your ass getting bruised.”

Yoongi smiled smugly at that one.

“Hell yeah…” Namjoon chuckled from the sofa, one hand reaching for the back of your thigh.

“No. Not now.”

“Later then?” He asked with puppy eyes before they turned into a very tipsy version of his intense dragon glance. “You’re so sexy when you’re mean,” he rumbled, a hand reaching for your thigh underneath the robe.

“Kim Namjoon, if you don’t stop I will unwife you in this instant.” Still, the other three men in the room were a mess of embarrassed coughing and teasing snorts. “You can all go home right now,” you said with a curt tone.

“You’re not gonna be able to take him to bed by yourself.” Yoongi cocked an eyebrow as he spoke calmly.

“Mh, Vixen, take me to bed, please,” Namjoon murmured as he tried to seduce you, just as you looked at him and replied, “No need to take him to bed. He’s sleeping on the sofa tonight.”

“See? I told you she found out! She has a sixth sense for this stuff! She can sense it! She can smell fear! I told you!!!” Namjoon babbled, grabbing your wrist. “Little fox...” he cooed, making a fool of himself.

“Go home. All of you. Now.”

Taehyung was the first to leave without even saying goodbye. He knew he would pay for it. Seokjin was the next, saying bye to Namjoon very briefly before bowing to you — just slightly. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, goodnight,” he apologised, making his way out.

“Yoongi?”

He rubbed his neck. “I’m sorry. Really. I— I didn’t do my job.”

You shook your head. “This is a mess I’ll have to deal with.”

“You know you’ll kind of have to deal with him for the rest of your life, right?” Yoongi looked at Namjoon, head in his hands, fingers tugging at it nervously.

You followed his gaze, meeting Namjoon in the poorest of states. “I know. He’s my business now. Go.”

Yoongi left without much resistance after that, the door of your apartment finally shutting for good.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon said, staring up at you as you stood before him. “I fucked up, I’m sorry.”

You placed your hands on his cheeks. “What happened, Joonie bear?”

He shook his head, lip going wobbly. “I’m so sorry!” he babbled again, eyes glossy with unshed tears.

“Oh, no, baby…” you managed to whisper before he dove for your lap, burying his face there. “What happened, love?”

He shook his head.

“Nothing’s gonna change the fact that I love you, big bear.” You caressed his hair as his voice confessed, half-muffled against your tummy.

“I sneaked a look at the dress.” You could hear his words coming out from a pout.

“Joonie—”

“Please don’t unwife me!” He cried out, his voice way too high pitched. “I don’t want to sleep alone ever.” He hugged your legs and held you closer. “I want to sleep next to you until I die.” He got even more emotional as he went on. “I want you to always pet my hair and tell me you’re proud of me and cook for me and be my sweetheart and my babylove and my little fox forever, even when we’re old and I get bald.”

You smiled and invited him to let go of your legs before sitting down, your legs slightly parted laying across the sofa. “Come here, big bear,” you said, patting your stomach. He did as he was told, laying his head below your chest and stretching his long body all over the seat. He struggled a little, his sense of balance temporarily worse than usual. “Soon I’ll be lawfully your bride. Forever. We’re almost there, honey. Just a week.”

He nodded.

“And then I’ll be your little fox until I’m nothing but ashes. And then some,” you reassured him, petting his lovely head, digging your fingers into the knots in his upper back.

“Writing the vows was so difficult.”

“I know baby,” you kept rubbing at his trapezoi until he released a relieved grunt. “I know that must have been really stressful for you.”

“I had to rewrite them sixteen times. Sixteen!” His hand absentmindedly reached your thigh and started rubbing small circles there. “Everytime, they were too long, or too cliché, or something I just couldn’t read in public because you know our letters.”

“I know our letters,” you confirmed, thinking about his messy handwriting on cheap paper, and entire sheets of words that he sent you everytime something important happened, everytime he had to travel for his job, everytime he just needed to make love to you on a deeper level. And then, thinking of your replies, always heartfelt, emotional, with fine calligraphy on expensive ivory sheets often marred with rough spots where a tear fell — most of the time because of joy and gratitude and obliterating, overwhelming love. “Will you read to me the other sixteen versions too, once we’re alone?”

He nodded. “I’ll read them all. I’ll write new ones every day. Small, simple, absolutely mundane. Stuff like, ‘I’ll do the dishes tonight’, or ‘Let’s go out for dinner’, or ‘I wanna grow old with you’ or ‘I don’t wanna watch that porn tonight, let’s just stare into each other’s eyes while naked and have the best tantric sex ever performed’.”

You chuckled and placed your hand atop of his. “I like the last one.”

“But I couldn’t say it in front of your parents, therefore I couldn’t write it in our vows.” He scoffed and shook his head before planting it between your breasts, nosing at the lapels of the robe until he could kiss your naked skin.

“I might have written something along those lines in one of my drafts.” Having this conversation with Namjoon while he was halfway drunk off his ass was extremely entertaining; however, you felt sad at the possibility of him not remembering this moment.

“What else did you write in that draft?” He closed his eyes, waiting for your soft voice to calm him down.

You smiled and slightly teared up at the thought, his chin propped on your chest, one of his thumbs reaching out to dry up a tear. “I wrote that I hope I get to make you smile every day and see that insanely cute and sexy dimple of yours every morning after you wake up. And I want to be the only one listening to your deep bedroom voice waking me up. And I want to listen to you as you talk to our children. I wanna hear all the stories, and watch your smile shine on their faces.”

Namjoon hid his face against your chest, feeling tears roll down his cheeks.

“I want them to have your eyes. I want to see your complete wonder as they learn about the world, as you teach them about the world in that grand and beautiful way you see it.” You sniffled and he cupped your face, kissing your lips so slowly, the heavy tang of liquor barely tainting the moment.

“I want to walk by your side, until we’re too tired to walk and watch time pass by, without worries, without haste. I don’t care where we’re walking because you were the place I was destined to be.”

Namjoon couldn’t explain tenderness or love or devotion or faith as deep as the ones he felt for you. He probably wasn’t skilled or trained enough.

“I know we’re young. I know this is more of a bet than an actual marriage. I’ve seen people who have been together for years part ways so easily and I don’t even know why you said yes to me. Sometimes I doubt I’m deserving and I see in how many ways I’m lacking and I ask myself, 'why the hell did she say yes to me?' ” He snickered sarcastically. “I wouldn’t have said yes to myself.”

You shook your head and kissed his brow.

“But I’ve been with other people and you have too and… I don’t know, sometimes I feel like this will take a lot of effort but then I hear you laugh, I hear you calling my name and I know, I can feel that that’s what it is supposed to sound like.”

You smiled at him, fixing your position so he could lay on you without worrying about smashing your body.

“I’m so confused and so grateful for this. It’s like… Suddenly winning the lottery. One minute you’re just a person and next you realise you’re going to be a husband. And you don’t know what’s going to happen to you, how your life is going to change, but with you I’m not scared.” He chuckled. “Well, I am. But you make me braver than my fears. And I know I could lose you any day. I could fuck up, or we could just drift apart or something. But any moment spent with you is bigger. It’s better and brighter.”

By now you were a teary mess, face drenched in tears, his arms around your torso as he held onto you. “My soul has found a home in you and I will cherish it. I’ll take care of that home. I’ll make sure nothing damages it. I’ll help you work on it if you want to change it. I will make more room when our family gets bigger. I will fix it when I can. I’ll stay by your side when I’m not skilled enough to heal you. To fix you.” He sniffled, voice hollow and weak as he spoke through a lump in his throat. “And I’ll leave if you ever ask me to.”

You shook your head and hugged him, letting him sob in your arms. “I hope I never lose you.”

“Don’t be a silly bear,” you comforted him, lulling him, holding him close to your heart. “I’ll be your bride. Your spouse. Your wife.” You kissed his head. “And your home. Your relief. Your dirty, secret affair. Your devoted companion too. Your goddess and your toy. I’ll be your friend. And the mother of your children, when we want to.”

God, if he wanted to… But first, he needed to enjoy having you all to himself for a couple more years. Just to make sure you hadn’t been both bold and immature and absolutely stupid about getting married almost two years after meeting for the first time.

“So I’m not getting unwifed for sneaking a peek at the dress?”

You shook your head. “It looks completely different once worn.”

“Really?” His expression exploded with euphoria.

You smiled. “Really.”

His drunken grin was back. “So I’m gonna sleep on the bed right?”

You acted as if you were even thinking about it. “You’re really drunk.”

“I’m soberer now.”

“And you embarrassed me in front of your friends,” you reminded him with a cocked eyebrow.

“Not my fault my wifey’s so hot,” he said with a slightly more accomplished wink.

“Not your wifey yet,” you reminded him.

He tutted. “Just a matter of days.” He kissed your sweet spot, on the side of your neck. “It’s only a technicality.”

You looked at him suspiciously. “A technicality, you say?”

He nodded and held you tighter.

“This technicality could still leave you at the altar, waiting,” you teased.

“Come on, I want to sleep next to you.” He kissed your cheek. “On our bed.” He kissed you again. “Where we’ll be making so many babies.”

“Stop right there, mister.” You placed a finger against his plush lips before you shook your head no. “No babies for a few years. I want you all mine, hubby.”

He chuckled and pressed his forehead against your chest bone. “Okay, fine, but I just meant hypothetically. You know, for practice.”

“Yeah, I think I could use some practice. I want to be perfect at it.”

He smiled and kissed your nose. If only she knew how perfect she is, he thought, haphazardly sitting up and waiting for you to help him on his feet, the whole discourse sobering him up enough that he managed to sit on the bench in the bathroom as you washed his face and brushed his teeth, as you undressed him and helped him in the shower, undressing and joining him, his body too tired and unstable to initiate anything fancy.

And then you towelled him up, rubbing body lotion on his always-too-dry legs before helping him in his boxers.

And through the process, he understood how it was that you loved him so much anytime he got you ready for bed. He should let you do this more often. Especially when he wasn’t exhausted or drunk, so he could properly enjoy being cuddled and fondled and babied.

What he didn’t expect was for it to feel so comfortable when you slid up against his back on the bed, spooning his ridiculously large body with your smaller one. “Sleep tight, big bear,” you said before kissing his nape. “Eight more sleeps and we’ll be married.”

He smiled. “Goodnight, little fox.” And with that, he caught your hand in his and fell asleep.

[andysbubba]

home office

request: hey can you do a Bucky x Reader were the reader is a teacher and they are taking a conference call but Bucky is horny so Bucky decides to fuck her while shes on the phone and tells her if shes quiet and doesn't moan on the whole then she'll get to cum after the call

first ever request and first ever smut (and first bucky barnes fic too 😳😳😳)

warnings: cockwarming / sex w/o protection

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

—

Bucky has been doing his own thing the whole morning. You didn’t really have a problem with that since you had Zoom lessons almost the whole morning too.

You teach a bunch of teens at the high school just about a 15 minutes walk from your home with Bucky. But due to the whole Covid-19 crap, all classes have been shifted online and you only had Zoom and whatever other sites there are on the internet to help you keep in touch with your students.

“Alright, teens. I just sent out the notes for Outbreak of War in Europe yesterday night.” You swiped through the faces on the screen of your Macbook. “Jesus. What the hell were you all doing last night?”

You just got whines in reply. You had a bond with your students. You were one of the younger teachers in the school so it was easy for you to talk and bond with the teens. Not forgetting that they were also an extremely easy bunch to deal with.

You roll your eyes at your students. “Fine. 15 minutes break.” You glanced down at the watch on your wrist. “Freshen up, make some coffee or something. And then I expect 100% attention when all of you get back. And then a Kahoot quiz since that always wake you people up.”

“You’re the best, Mrs Barnes!”

You chuckled lightly, “I know, I know. Now shoo. See you in 15.”

You turned off the camera and mic on your Macbook, before standing up to stretch. You had 15 minutes to look for Bucky... and make some coffee.

Hey. Teachers stay up late too.

Just as you were about to leave you home office, there was a knock on the door. Just a second or two after, the door opens and Bucky peeks in before he fully enters.

“Hey doll,” He grins at you, walking towards you with a mug of coffee in hand.

“You’re an angel, Mr Barnes.” You blissfully smile at him as he passes you the mug.

He hums and wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his chest. “Are you done yet?”

You set the mug on the table behind you before turning back to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Nope. 15 minutes break and then I’ll only end at 2.30.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” You went on your tiptoes and leaned in to kiss Bucky.

“I have to wait one full hour before I get to fuck that cunt again?” Bucky raises an eyebrow at you.

You glare at him before harshly slapping him on his chest. “Buck!”

“What?” He asks innocently. “You’re not gonna make me wait, are you, honey?” His hand tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. The other was on your hip, trailing under your blouse and then tracing circles on your bare skin.

“Bucky,” You sternly said. Though you were very sure it had no impact on him.

“I think you’re forgetting whose cunt this is.” His hand trails to your jaw and tilts your chin up to look at him. “Did you forget?”

“No...” You look up at him, knowing damn well that if you deny him this time round, he’s gonna make the next few days a living hell for you.

“Good girl. Keep my cock warm. I’ll let you cum when your class ends if you’re good.” He slides his hand under your skirt and immediately felt your bare pussy. The smirk on his face grows wider. “You didn’t even wear panties, huh? Were you expecting me to do this?”

You cling on to his shoulders as the tip of his finger caressed your clit. “Buck,”

“I got you, little one.” His arm wrapped tightly around your waist to hold you up. His metal arm was the one under your skirt. He brings his finger up and brought it close to your mouth. “You’re so fucking wet already, love. Bet you’ll fit just nice around my cock, won’t you?”

You whimper weakly as he sticks his metal fingers in your mouth, before pulling it out. The metal glistening with your saliva before he slides back under your skirt and slips his fingers into your opening. You whimper loudly at the feeling of the cold metal.

“Bucky, please.”

“I’ll take care of you, pretty girl. Later.” He pulls his fingers out of your pussy. The emptiness leaving your pussy gaping for more.

He strides to your office chair, dragging you behind him. He sits first, only pulling the waistband of his sweatpants past his cock. He was already hard. Jesus.

He gestures for you to sit on him. With staggered steps, you set yourself on him, only his tip going past you before he completely loses his patience and gripped your waist. He pulled you down fully onto his cock, not giving you a little time to adjust to his size. Bucky was thick. And adequately long. And god, does he fill you.

You yelp loudly, earning yourself a slap on your clit. You flinch when he grips at your jaw and whispered harshly into your ear. “None of those noises. You don’t want them to know what a whore Mrs Barnes is, do you?”

You took deep breaths before your hand moved to the cursor. His hands stopped your wrist. “Remember. Camera off and stay still.”

He lets go of you when he made his point clear. You shakily clicked the unmute button.

“A-alright everyone. Come back. S-sorry guys. My camera c-can’t seem to work. But I’ll still share the slides.” The fullness in you was something else. Something you can’t truly explain. It really was disrupting the way you think.

Bucky was calm and nonchalant behind you. (Like he doesn’t have his fucking cock stuck in you while you’re teaching a bunch of kids about how World War 2 started) Fucks sake, he even took out his phone and started playing candy crush.

“Invasion of Poland.” You speak out. “Someone tell me when that happened.”

“First September 1939.”

You chocked as Bucky’s cock twitched in you. “Thanks, Edward.”

“Are you okay, Mrs Barnes?”

“I’m good, Peter. Dry throat.”

“Now, when did Britain and France declare war on Germany?”

“Third September 1939, Mrs Barnes.”

“Great! Thanks Hannah.” You slightly rolled your shoulder, that only caused you to slightly shift around Bucky. You covered your almost moan with a cough.

Bucky barely glanced at you because of it.

“Now, there are three factors leading to the Germany’s invasion of Poland and then the eventual declaration of war by British and France.” You cleared your throat when Bucky’s left hand lands on your thigh. “One is the Weakness of the League of Nations, followed by Hitler’s expansionistic policy and lastly the Policy of Appeasement.”

You stifled in another moan when Bucky slides one hand under your blouse and rubbed your stomach with his metal palm.

-

“Good job, everyone. And seriously, stop sleeping so late.” You chided.

Bucky hasn’t been easy on you for the past hour. His hand was on your inner thigh and then it grazed over your clit. And then he purposely sat up, and his cock shifted inside you, hitting your cervix.

You had to use everything in you to hold in a loud whimper.

“Thank you, Mrs Barnes.”

“Have a good day, Mrs Barnes.”

“Bye everyone.” You clicked ‘end meeting’ at the top of the screen and then you were leaning back against Bucky and relaxing against him.

You sighed loudly, relieved that you got through the whole thing without slipping up.

“Up and over the desk.”

You whine into his neck.

“Either that or I fuck you against the wall. I won’t go easy on you either way, Y/N.”

You struggled to stand up, your pussy a little sore from being stretched for the past hour. You shut your Macbook, pushing it aside and bending over your work desk.

Your ass was probably on the same level as Bucky’s face.

“Good girl.”

He unzips your skirt and pulled it down. Your bare ass now presented to him. He stands up behind you and wrapped his hands around the fabric of your blouse before he completely rips it apart.

You gasp in shock.

He laughs humorlessly when he noticed you weren’t wearing a bra either. He pressed your face into the cold glass of your desk. His other hand trailing down your spine and left shivers all around your back.

“If I truly did fuck you in class earlier on, you would be all for it wouldn’t you?” He teases, his cock was trailing on your pussy lips. “You’re lucky I had a little patience left.”

“Please, Bucky.”

“Beg, Y/N.”

“Please, please, please. Fuck me please. Need your cock so bad, Buck. Feel so fucking empty without your cock.” Your ass grinds back against his cock.

He thrusts into you immediately. Hands gripping tightly at your waists and his metal arm leaving bruises on your hips.

Bucky was so fucking deep in you. 3 years of marriage and yet you could never get used to Bucky’s cock. He was always so big and made you feel so full.

The drag of his cock against the walls of your pussy felt like a dream. All the pent up tension from before was all in how hard he fucked you. Like a man starved.

“Fuck. You already clenching around me, honey. You gonna cum already?” One hand moved into your hair and pulled your upper body up from the desk and into his chest.

“Know how hot is it when you talk all smart like some genius? How you have all that information stored in your brain when I can’t even remember what I ate yesterday?” He pants into your ear.

You moan helplessly as his thrusts sped up. “Buck, Buck, Buck.” You chanted his name like a prayer.

“I got you, little one. Cum around my cock.” Bucky groans as he keeps up his pace.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your head rests on Bucky’s shoulder. His metal hand pinched and rubbed at your clit. “Cum.”

You let go with a loud moan, spilling around him uncontrollably.

He pulls out of you and laid you on your back. One of your legs was on his shoulder before he started thrusting you again and chasing his own high.

Bucky kept the same pace as before, his pelvis hitting your clit and that same spot everytime he thrusts deeply. Your one leg was wrapped around his waist pulling him in.

“Such a good girl for me.” He leans down and kisses you, open mouthed and all tongues. “Fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum.”

You felt his cock twitch before he completely stills inside you and let go. A warmth fills you as he spills his seepd in you. “Shit, Y/N.”

He pulls out of you, settling on your office chair as you both pant.

“First and last, James. I don’t want to lose my job.”

“Yes ma’am. That was good, though.”

You got up on your elbows and pointedly look at him. “Every sex is good with you, Mr Barnes.”

“Sorry. I was hard and I couldn’t wait.”

You roll your eyes at him. “So you made me sit on your cock while you play candy crush?”

He chuckles lightly before kissing your inner thighs. “Don’t get sassy now, my wife. You know I’ll make it up to you, baby.”

[satoruvt]

for now; forever

pairing → kwon soonyoung x reader

word count → 9015

genre → mostly fluff, angst ↳ tags: ooh boy. firewatch au, banter, like a little bit (a lot) of pining, strangers to friends to… something, FLIRTING, reader’s kinda fucked up but its ok, hoshi’s weird and endearing (as always), a tiny bit of hurt/comfort, minghao best boy, soonyoung is very sweet it makes me want to cry

synopsis → after an unfortunate burnout that lands you in every critic’s negative and all-seeing eye, you decide to take a break from the one thing you know. you’re not sure if you’ll find what you’re looking for out in the middle of the woods - if you’re looking for anything at all - but at the very least, soonyoung will make the hunt a little less lonely.

warnings → there’s eventually a forest fire (starts on day 64 and is mentioned throughout the rest of the fic) that leads to an evacuation but it’s not super detailed, mentions and descriptions of creative burnout/breakdown

a/n → IT’S FINALLY HERE!!! i made a fancy banner nd everything <3 i know 9k isn’t a lot to some people but this is probably the longest one shot i’ve ever written LMAOO so i hope it’s paced ok and everything <33 PLEASE let me know what yall thought about this i am insanely proud of it. ok thats it hehe. hope you enjoy!!! see u on the other side!!!!

btw here’s a fun playlist of songs i listened to while writing mixed with some songs i think reflect the fic super well <33

DAY ONE.

So. You’re… out here, now.

Save for the bugs you have to swat at every fifteen seconds, the outdoors doesn’t seem that bad. The weather isn’t too hot (yet, your mind reminds you) and there’s something about the color of the sky that makes your heart constrict in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s good or bad, but given your luck recently, you’re hoping it’s not a warning for the coming months - God knows you need a break. The weight of the journal in your bag feels heavier than any of the camping gear you brought with you.

You debate texting Minghao that you’ve made it to the park safely, but when you check your phone after deciding yes, you see the words no service instead of the familiar lines of a signal. It’s not that big of a deal - you’d told him when you left that you probably wouldn’t have service at all - but a little part of you feels the tender shake of anxiety at the thought of not being able to contact your best friend. 

He was the most worried out of everyone when you told him you were leaving for the summer. You can’t really blame him - it was abrupt, you saw the flyer at the grocery store and took it - but after what happened… doing something felt, feels, better than sitting around and waiting for nothing to happen. Waiting for a healing you aren’t sure will ever come, at least not completely.

“Is this really…” Minghao had started upon first entering your apartment after getting your text. Clothes were thrown all over your bedroom floor in an attempt to pack. “Do you need to do this?”

The tone of his voice told you he wasn’t going to try to stop you, that he just wanted to make sure this was what you needed. You had only nodded, sitting down on the edge of your bed to fold clothes and pack them into your suitcase.

“I just don’t want you to run away from it all,” Minghao said softly, sitting next to you. “You’ll need to face it eventually.”

“Is escaping really such a bad thing?” You asked, looking at Minghao. He gave you the look he did when you said something stupid, and if you weren’t still so wired from everything, you might have laughed. Instead, you sighed, placing a pair of pants into your suitcase. “I just need some time.”

Before you can face it, before you can come back, before you can write again… you still don’t know. Minghao had placed a kind hand on your shoulder to tell you there was no rush.

It’d taken no more than two days for you to get everything ready - including buying some apparently necessary survival equipment from Target. In a matter of a few hours you had gathered everything up, texted some other friends and your family that you might not be available the next few months and then… you left. 

(Your manager was pretty pissed off that you left so suddenly, but she was also pissed off at you when you told her you needed a break for at least a few weeks, so you’re not really offended.)

You take one last longing look at your car before locking it, pocketing the keys, and starting on your hike.

The hike takes almost the whole day. 

You think you almost cry when you finally see the watch tower you’re supposed to be staying in, your legs barely able to hold the rest of your body up. The hike wasn’t hard, really - long, though, and for someone who usually spends a work day sitting at a desk, you’re surprised you’re still alive. You find the little lock that holds the keys to the tower at the bottom of the stairs, fastened onto the railing. It takes a few seconds for you to enter the code you’d been given earlier, relishing in the soft breeze the cools the sweat on your face and neck. The sun is just barely starting to set beyond the mountains, a beautiful sight that you can’t properly focus on because all you want to do is pass out. You’re pretty sure you almost do on your way up the stairs.

The cabin at the top of the tower is pretty scarcely furnished, save for a few basic necessities (a gas stove rests on one wall, a small desk opposite to it by the door, a mini-fridge, and a bed in the corner plus what looks like a map table in the center of the room). It’s a little weird, a feeling caught between the nostalgia of moving into a new place and something you can’t quite name, but you figure you have a few months to make it all a little more comfortable.

For now, though, you feel like you’re on the last leg of your energy. Your mind is saying eat, sleep, eat, sleep on repeat and you have to agree with it, so you change the sheets on the bed, take down the boards over the windows while you wait for the macaroni from the Kraft box to cook. You end up eating a few forkfuls of poorly-made mac and cheese before crashing.

When you wake up, it’s to gentle static and a semi-clear, unfamiliar voice. It takes you a minute to remember where you are and what you’re doing, too disoriented to even think about the voice, but then - oh. Forest. Watch tower. Escape. Okay.

“Yo, Cottonwood! Am I coming through okay? Pick up your radio!”

Right. The voice. Radio?

“Come on, I saw you get in yesterday, I know you’re there. Unless,” a gasp, “you died! Oh my God, this is like a horror movie… and I’m next!”

You manage to wake up enough to locate your radio (a walkie-talkie resting on a charger on the desk) and, after a few seconds of gentle struggle, work it. “Not dead,” you say, then clear your throat because your voice does not sound good right after waking up. “I mean… almost. But not dead.”

There’s barely a moment of hesitation before the person on the other end hoots, apparently excited. “Arisen from the dead! Brought back to life by none other than the legendary Hoshi!”

A brief thought crosses your mind about having to listen to this guy all summer, but you quickly shoo it away. You won’t have to deal with it for the whole three months, right? “Who… who is Hoshi?”

“Me!” The voice answers, sounding a little too smug. “But it’s really just an alias. You can call me Soonyoung. I’m at Twin Peaks tower, west of yours!”

You spin around your cabin, looking through the windows cluelessly - how long have you been asleep, it’s practically afternoon - until you see a very small silhouette of another tower in the distance. You nod, then realize Soonyoung can’t see you. “Oh. Cool.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?” Soonyoung asks, but his tone is light, breezy. You blink, reciting your name to him in a daze. “Pretty! So, what brings you out here?”

You weren’t expecting that question. “What?”

Soonyoung giggles into the radio. “Everyone comes out here for some reason. Like… Jihoon says it’s ‘cause it helps him write music. And Joshua loves the outdoors, so… what’s your reason?”

“You…” you start, not exactly wanting to tell a stranger the reason you ran away from everything you know. “Do you normally ask this many questions?”

“Yeah!”

You feel yourself sigh, already tired again.

“I… just wanted to get away for a while,” you end up saying. A half-truth. “I live in the city.”

“No way,” Soonyoung gasps excitedly. “Me too! I wonder if both of us have ever been walking and, like, passed each other without knowing…”

This isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you thought of escaping.

DAY TWO.

The next morning, you dedicate time to getting a little more settled into your home for the next few months. You didn’t bring a lot of decor - you didn’t think you needed any - but even seeing your blanket on the bed and a few books you need to catch up on reading stacked on the desk makes the place feel a little bit more like you. You eventually reach the journal you packed (that Minghao made you pack) and stare at it like it might do something. Like it might tell you to write again, or like it might tell you to leave everything behind. You don’t really know what you want from it.

A sing-songed version of your name comes from your radio and you blink away from the journal, set it down on the desk. “Good morning!” Soonyoung says from the other end, and you feel yourself take a deep breath as you pick up your radio and press down the button so he can hear you.

“Morning, Soonyoung,” you respond, calm compared to his excitement. 

“So… what are your plans for today?”

“Um,” you pause, brows furrowed, looking towards the direction of his tower even though you know he can’t see you. “Looking out for fires?”

“That’s boring,” is Soonyoung’s immediate response, and you laugh a little.

“Kinda my job for a while.”

And listen, you’ve known Soonyoung for less than a full 24 hours, but even before your brain really comprehends what he’s saying you know you’re not going to like it. “Wait, that reminds me,” he says, tone of his voice a little less overexcited puppy. “What did you do before this? Or, like, what’s your career? I mean, you don’t have to answer, I just thought it could be a way for us to get to know each other…”

His voice fades away for the split second you remember a little too much all at once, but somehow your voice still sounds put together when you speak. “Nothing special,” you say. There’s a pause when you don’t elaborate any further, but instead of asking about it, Soonyoung changes the subject.

“Okay!” he says, back to a more playful tone. “Anyways, I asked about your plans ‘cause I kind of need you to do something for me.”

“Already asking favors?” you tease. “We just met, Soonyoung.”

You hear him laugh, loud and hearty, and it’s contagious even through a radio line so you feel your own smile pull at your lips. “One of the other lookouts found some teenagers with fireworks,” he informs you. “I need you to meet him and get the fireworks from him.”

Your feet are already in your shoes, one halfway tied. “You can’t do this?”

Soonyoung’s voice is strangely thoughtful, but you catch a hint of mischief at the end of his sentence. “I would, but Jihoonie said he’d eat me if I tried to see him again and I think he’s serious this time.”

He tells you where the other lookout - Jihoon - should be and gives you a quick lesson on how to properly use your map to get there. You’re not really excited for another hike this early on (you’re still sore from even getting up here) but by the time you meet the halfway mark you’re convinced it’s not that bad. It’s neither long nor challenging, and… well, Soonyoung’s insistent on keeping you company the whole time. 

When you see what looks like a guy at the edge of a now-abandoned camp, you tell Soonyoung you’ll radio him when you’re on your way back to your tower. “Hey,” you call out as you get closer. The man looks up at you, his eyes sharp but not unkind. “Jihoon?”

“Yeah,” he replies. Under his cap you notice that his hair is a gentle silver, almost purple. He’s dressed casually, like you, and you suppose it’s a given since there’s no exact dress code for this job.  “You’re the newbie?”

You didn’t know people knew about you. “I.. I guess,” you say, then tell him your name.

“Cool,” Jihoon says, voice flat like he’s distracted. He picks up the bag next to his feet and hands it to you. “Take these. Thanks.”

He starts to walk away, down a trail opposite the direction you came, but you think of earlier, when Soonyoung asked about your job (or when he didn’t). You call after Jihoon, hesitate, but then opt to make this quick since he looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Have you and Soonyoung… known each other for long?”

Jihoon turns around. He shrugs, then nods. “We met in college, a few years ago.”

“What kind of person is he?”

You watch in vague amusement as Jihoon’s nose scrunches up, but the small smile on his face refuses to hide and it makes you giggle. “Really annyoing,” he tells you, then pauses for a second like he’s looking for the right words, “kind of overwhelming sometimes. But he’s good. He’s someone you want around.”

Someone you want around, your brain repeats to you. You nod with a friendly smile as you haphazardly stuff the fireworks in your hiking bag. “Okay. Thank you.”

Jihoon offers an acknowledging nod of his own before continuing on his way back to his tower. You’re about five minutes into your hike back to yours when your radio sounds from your pocket with a now-familiar voice.

“Are you on your way back?” Soonyoung asks. “You forgot to tell me!”

“Sorry, yeah, I am now. I was talkin’ to Jihoon for a second.”

“Really? That’s weird. He rarely talks to anyone, especially strangers. What’d you talk about?”

You can’t help the small smile that lands on your face as you speak. “Stuff to blackmail you with.”

You think you hear Soonyoung’s groan all the way from his tower, and your smile only grows when it turns into a laugh.

DAY FIVE.

The clouds look dark today.

They haven’t covered the sun completely yet, but they’re closing in fast. You hope that it rains, already sick and tired of the disgusting heat, but also. Something else.

Rainy days always used to be the best to write, your brain supplies to you. You brave a glance at the still-unopened journal on the desk, thinking that maybe…

Your radio turning on drags you away from the crack in metaphorical door, coming at the perfect time as if to tell you that you’re not ready yet. You listen to it, grab the radio, murmur a greeting to Soonyoung.

“It’s getting pretty dark out, huh?” He says. He must be looking at the sky, too.

“Yeah,” you hum. “Hopefully the storm isn’t too bad.”

The line goes quiet, but you know that Soonyoung’s still there even if he isn’t saying anything. The knowledge comforts you, just a little.

“Well... got any rainy day stories?”

DAY SEVENTEEN.

“So, Soonyoung,” you call into your radio as you step outside. You’ve taken advantage of the small balcony around the entire cabin, setting up a few chairs you found in the storage unit at the bottom of the tower (just in case someone stops by, you tell yourself) and a small table you weren’t using inside. The nights are hot but still relaxing, and you find yourself sitting outside often, catching up on reading or taking in the stars. 

“I can’t believe you radioed me first,” Soonyoung responds, and you hear the smugness in his voice. “I’m so happy!”

Soonyoung somehow almost always manages to be with you in the nights, too, even if not physically. Being away from the urban civilization you’re used to has been a little difficult to adjust to, but you feel significantly less alone whenever you hear him calling you. You tell him to be quiet even though both of you are laughing. The distant crickets make your chest warm.

“What do you do? You didn’t tell me before,” You ask him after a second. There’s a small wave of anxiety that rushes over you at the idea that he might call you out about when he asked you the same thing. That was two weeks ago, though, you think, and Soonyoung wouldn’t. You’re sure he’s been able to tell that it’s a touchy subject. You’re not as discreet as you think you are, even if (and you’ve learned this the past few weeks) Soonyoung’s a bit more on the oblivious side sometimes.

“I dance!” 

Somehow, despite having not even seen what he looks like, it’s fitting. “Like… teach, or choreograph, or…”

“A little of everything,” Soonyoung tells you, and then starts elaborating. His voice echoes through your radio and you look up at the stars as you listen to him, trying to map out constellations from memory. He sounds so excited to simply talk about it, you can’t imagine what he must look like when he’s actually on stage. You hope you get to see it one day.

“You’ll have to teach me something sometime,” you say once he’s finished, voicing your thoughts. With a giggle that sounds like the stars above you, he tells you he’d love to.

A moment of quiet passes, spent focusing on the tiny specks of fireflies you see in the field around your tower and feeling the summer breeze as it passes. The words slip out of your mouth with much less resistance than you thought they would.

“I used to write,” you murmur into your radio. It takes you a moment to register the heavy beat of your heart, like you just got back from a run.

“Used to?” Soonyoung asks, curious but soft.

“For now,” you answer. The ache you’ve become familiar with throbs in your chest. “Hopefully not forever.”

It’s not the whole story - not even close - but you figure you might be able to tell him with time. The thought stresses you out even when you have nothing to stress about, and you think Soonyoung is psychic because he says, next, “the stars are really pretty tonight.”

You’re not looking at the sky when you answer. Your head is tilted in the direction of his tower. 

“They really are,” you say.

DAY THIRTY-THREE.

You’ve fallen into a bit of a routine with Soonyoung. 

Not a day goes by where you don’t talk to him - the one day you radioed and he didn’t pick up you genuinely thought something happened to him, seconds away from calling a park ranger. Right before you actually did it, though, he picked up his radio and said he had been taking a nap.

(His voice was a little groggy from sleep, sounded like he was pouting whether he meant to or not and you’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t make your heart skip a few beats - but if anyone asked, you’d definitely lie about it.)

One of you calls the other around the same time every morning and you don’t put down your radio until the sun is well behind the mountains. You’ve grown used to his presence, in a way, even if you can’t really feel him with you (though sometimes you swear you can). It’s comforting to have him out there with you, and it’s been so long since you’ve talked to someone the way you do with Soonyoung… you find yourself looking forward to every morning, waiting for when you hear him over your radio.

Today is no different.

Well, in an unrelated way, it is - you have to hike to a supply box to get your surplus of food for the next month and a half you have left. But even as you’re doing inventory of what you have left in your cabin on a piece of paper, you’re waiting for Soonyoung’s usual good morning. It comes as always, makes you smile when you hear it.

“Good morning!” 

You leave your scratch paper on your desk and reach for your radio. “Morning,” you say after you’ve pressed the button down. 

“So…” Soonyoung trails off. “Supply drop day.”

“Yeah,” you reply, sitting on your bed.

“Both of us are getting crates of food today…”

What is he getting at? “Uh-huh…?”

“Both of us… getting supplies�� from the same place.”

A confused laugh leaves your lips. “Soonyoung, what is your point?”

Even for as often as you talk to him, you’re still always surprised when he starts yelling. “Let’s meet up!” he exclaims, obviously excited, and it clicks in your head.

“Oh my God, can we do that?” 

“Yeah!” Soonyoung sounds like he’s grinning, smile palpable in his voice. “If we pull some strings with the other lookouts and get hiking at the right time, it’s totally possible.”

Holy shit. Your heart is beating wildly, butterflies swarming around it at the thought of meeting Soonyoung in person. “Okay,” you tell him, noting that you sound a little breathless. “Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”

It takes a few minutes to work everything out - the supply boxes should be dropped off by midday, so you can leave your tower around then and get to the drop location in a little over an hour. Soonyoung has to leave earlier than you since he’s farther away, but if everything goes well the two of you should get to the drop location close to the same time, margin of error small. You radio Jihoon to cover for you while you’re out, and he agrees, although he sounds a bit miffed.

When you finally leave for your hike, you’re not expecting how quiet it is. Soonyoung’s usually there to cover it up with his voice - you don’t hike often (you’ve not had to, given your job for the summer is to watch for fires) but whenever you have he’s been there to keep you company. You plug in your earphones about halfway through your trip just to drown out the quiet, something more to listen to than just trees and the sound of your own footsteps.

Eventually you make it to the supply box, and, well. There’s a guy. Standing in front of a long, green box - you think you see lookout tower names engraved ever few inches: Thorofare, Cottonwood, Twin Peaks. Packing some ready-to-eat meals into his backpack.

Holy shit, Soonyoung? your brain automatically asks, and it sends your heart spiraling up and down. You’re not sure what you thought he looked like, but it wasn’t this. Tall, lean - wait, you don’t even know if this is actually him yet.

Before you can think too much about it, you call out, voice tentative. “Are you… Soonyoung?”

The man turns around, shakes his head with a kind smile. “No,” he says. “I’m Joshua.”

You think about throwing yourself into the river by your tower when you get back for absolutely no reason. Somehow you manage a polite smile and a gentle sorry.

“No, don’t apologize, you’re fine!” Joshua chirps, adjusting the cap on his head. “You’re looking for him?”

You pause. Those aren’t the exact words you would use, but they’re not technically wrong, so you nod. After all, you don’t know what he looks like (you probably should have asked him before both of you left, but you weren’t expecting another person to be here).

“Please don’t tell me he got lost again,” Joshua says, suddenly looking tired, and you look back at him wide-eyed because... again? Has this happened before?

“No,” you tell him. “No, I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t know. Since we both have to pick up supplies he thought it’d be cool if we met up in person.”

Joshua sighs, seemingly relieved, then continues packing what’s left of his supplies into his backpack as he hums. “That’s weird.”

“What is?”

He shrugs. “Soonyoung likes the outdoors, yeah, but the supply box is a pretty far hike from his tower. I think the last few summers he’s had them delivered.”

Oh, you think, and maybe say out loud, because then Joshua’s looking back at you, a mischievous smile on his face. 

“He must really like you to come all the way out here,” he tells you, and you laugh like it might get rid of all the thoughts popping up in your mind that you keep telling yourself to stop thinking about.

“And yet,” you say wistfully, looking towards the horizon. “I still come second to Jihoon.”

This time Joshua laughs, a friendly sound, and the two of you fall into a playful conversation. He’s somewhat a superior of yours, though not by a far gap - as the lookout who’s been on the job the longest, he oversees the rest of you (which is you, Soonyoung, Jihoon, and a few others you have yet to come across). You get along with him easily and it’s weird to think that if you hadn’t gone through what you did a few months ago you wouldn’t be here talking to him, establishing what could be a new friendship. You wonder if that’s a new step towards healing, finding a way to be grateful even if it was horrible.

You talk to Joshua for a while until he says he should get back to his tower. You nod, tell him goodbye (and thanks for his company) and he starts to walk away -

“Shua!”

A burst of platinum blonde hair rushes past you from the opposite direction you came from, heading for Joshua. The new guy drops a bag at his feet and almost softly crashes into Joshua, who has this look on his face you can’t really decipher.

“Hey, Soonyoung,” he says, and you blink.

Soonyoung, like… your Soonyoung? The Soonyoung you’ve been talking to for weeks?

You watch as the two hug, Soonyoung excited to see Joshua and completely ignoring you (though you’re not sure he’s doing it intentionally). All you can do is stand there. This is him, your brain keeps telling you. This is the guy.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” Soonyoung exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. “How are you? How have things been?”

Joshua shrugs, a small smile on his face as he puts a gentle hand on Soonyoung’s head and starts… petting. “I’ve been good, same old deal. I know that you’ve been doing good too, though, as far as I’ve seen from your reports.”

Soonyoung beams at the praise and you take note of it in the back of your mind (you also note the way Joshua’s treating him like a toddler and how it’s working). He opens his mouth to say something else but looks around and meets your eyes - for a second there’s nothing at all, but then you think you see an exclamation mark actually pop above his head.

The yell of your name is so loud it makes you jump. “Oh my God,” Soonyoung whines, falling to his knees dramatically. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you!”

“This is the first time you’ve seen me,” you say. You can’t seem to hold back your smile.

Joshua excuses himself (again) and finally moves on his way, says he’s in Thorofare lookout if anything happens. The sun is mellow on your skin as you look at Soonyoung, take him in - light hair, warm eyes, tan skin. His smile matches your own. A breeze shifts by, slow and sweet.

“Hi,” you say.

Soonyoung grins.

“Hey.”

-

So the bag you saw Soonyoung drop on the ground before was, in fact, for a picnic.

He didn’t bring a lot of food (the whole point of the hike was to get supply boxes anyways) aside from a few candy bars he’d saved for today. He did bring a blanket, however, and the two of you set everything up on the edge of a rock not too far away from the drop location, under some trees. It looks over a small ravine, a stream cutting through at the bottom. 

The time goes by like it was never there in the first place, spent talking and laughing. Soonyoung is just as animated in person as you thought he’d be, telling stories wildly as the two of you snack away a portion of your supplies. You know the two of you don’t have much time together, given how late it already was when Soonyoung arrived and both of your hikes back to your respective towers, but it’s still… refreshing, almost, to be with him like this, to finally get a piece of him you didn’t before. To hear him without the crackle of the radio and to see him.

To see him.

Something stirs in your chest when you look at him lying back on the blanket, arms supporting his head with his eyes closed. The sun lights up his skin in a golden glow, like honey, and the dark roots growing into his blonde hair are somehow endearing. The breath leaves your lungs when you finally label him as pretty. You hope you can blame the heat in your cheeks on the sun.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Soonyoung sighs, still not opening his eyes. You almost reach out to brush the hair away from his face, but a breeze comes by and does it for you. You hope it’s not a sign.

“It would be nice, huh,” you murmur in response. You finally break your gaze from Soonyoung and lean back on your hands, soaking up the feeling of the blue sky.

It’s now that you remember what Joshua had said earlier about Soonyoung usually getting his supplies delivered, and you turn back to him. “Hey, before you got to the supply box, Joshua and I were talking.” Soonyoung hums in acknowledgement. “Is the hike from your tower to here really that bad?”

His voice strains as he stretches, opening his eyes to look at you. “I mean, yeah, it’s a bitch of a hike to take sometimes. But it’s not really hard except for a few spots, just long.”

You furrow your brows. When you agreed to meet him, you didn’t think it’d be this much trouble for him. “And you came all this way so we could… what, sit here and eat? Like we do most of the time anyways? Just separately?”

Soonyoung pouts at you and you feel personally attacked. “Food tastes good when you’re with other people.”

You give him a soft, semi-playful glare, and Soonyoung offers a small giggle. You turn back towards the view in front of you.

“Did you not want me to come down?” He asks, and he doesn’t sound… sad, really, more observant. Like he wants to know where you’re at.

“No,” you answer almost immediately (Jesus, your brain says). “I just… it’s a long trip. It doesn’t really seem like it’s worth the effort.”

Like I’m worth the effort, you think to yourself. 

You hear Soonyoung shuffle behind you and turn around to look at him again, finding him sitting up straight. “It is to me,” he tells you, and there’s something in his eyes that holds you in your spot. The tips of his fingers brush against yours on the blanket. You’d look down if you didn’t think you’d miss something. “I wanted to.”

In a second, it clicks.

-

It’s not much longer until Soonyoung needs to start heading back. The two of you get your things together, and you help him pack up the picnic supplies he brought. When everything’s said and done and the two of you are back by the supply box, there’s a second of uncharacteristic quiet that falls over you.

“Let me know when you get back,” you say after a moment. Soonyoung grins.

“You’re worried about me!” he swoons, and you hit him on the shoulder playfully, but don’t deny it. It can be dangerous out there, and even if Soonyoung has been out here longer than you, anything can happen. 

“Just radio me, okay?”

Soonyoung smiles, something a little softer from before. He nods. “I will. You be safe too.”

You nod in return, taking a few steps back towards the trail that leads back to your tower. “Talk to you later, Hoshi.”

The last you see of him before you turn around is the grin on his face.

DAY THIRTY-FOUR.

It feels like forever since you’ve been here.

A window is open and welcomes a distant ambiance of the forest around you, trees and birds and animals. The journal you brought with you is open to the first page, but remains untouched - nothing on the pages. At least, not yet.

(The not yet you always tell yourself seems closer, this time, not so far away. Within reach, or at least within reason.)

Soonyoung had called in that the hike from yesterday had worn him out and he needed a nap. You had laughed fondly at how tired he sounded, told him to sleep well and that you’d be waiting for him. And you feel the words, right at your fingertips, the way the rest and wait to be written. Their presence is both terrifying and reassuring. 

You don’t think they’ll be able to bleed out correctly, not the way they used to since it’s been so long. But they’re there, in your mind, in your heart. 

You pick up the pen you got out, feel the weight of it as you click it a few times. You tap it on the desk once, twice, and then.

You take a deep breath and start to write.

DAY SIXTY-FOUR.

“Are you lookin’ at the fire?”

Your eyes leave the page of your book at Soonyoung’s voice crackling from the radio, looking around your cabin windows to see that, oh, there is a fire. You’d kind of forgotten that it’s… literally your job. At least there are multiple lookouts.

You fold the corner of the page you’re on as a makeshift bookmark before closing the book and setting it down on your bed as you stand to get your radio. You grab a can of soda from the mini-fridge you’ve started to utilize (as best you can, given it does a mediocre job at keeping things cool) before walking out onto the deck, sitting in one of the chairs you set up. “Now I am,” you tell Soonyoung as you adjust the chair so it faces the direction of the fire. You think you’re the closest lookout to it - which makes the fact that you didn’t notice it even worse - but not in any danger. The smoke paints the evening sky red-orange, washing over the purples and blues the sun used earlier as it set. “You’ve called it in?”

“Yeah, told Josh, who told the higher-ups,” Soonyoung responds, voice strangely… solemn? He sighs his next words. “They’ll probably send a crew in for suppression by morning.”

“Is there a reason you sound sad about putting a potentially dangerous forest fire out?” You tease, cracking open your soda and taking a sip. The carbonation feels good in your mouth, pops on your tongue.

“I’m not!” Soonyoung denies after some sputtering, and you laugh. “Just… ugh, looking at it - I’ve worked here every summer for the past, like, five years, and I’ve only ever seen two fires. Three, counting this one.” His voice gains a certain softness, like he’s lost in thought. “I don’t want the place to burn down or anything, but… don’t you think it’s kind of beautiful?”

It’s a little morally ambiguous, but as you look at the distant, licking flames you have to agree. In the dark, it’s vibrant, more than just ashy smoke and the smell of burning - it glows red, flushes out silhouettes of the trees in between it and you.

“I guess it is,” you hum into your radio as you stare at it.

“So. What should we name it?”

“The fire?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says, dramatic as always. “She needs a name! I’ve always given them names, but I’ll let you do the honor this time.”

There’s something sweet in the way he offers you the chance to name it, and you try not to dwell on it too much. “Ah,” you start, thinking for a moment. “Barbara. The Barbara Fire.”

Soonyoung howls out a laugh and it’s infectious; you feel the tugging of your lips into a grin. “That is the worst thing that has ever come out of your mouth,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “We are not naming it the Barbara Fire.”

You huff out a fake whine. “Come on, it’s just Barb! She’s beautiful.”

“But deadly,” Soonyoung adds in a voice that sounds like it came straight out of a crime documentary. It makes you giggle, the two of you throwing around silly, stupid names.

“Okay, okay,” you say after a few minutes. “Then… hmm, the Hoshi Fire.”

There’s a long, long pause, and you hold down the button to your radio again. “Uh oh, is he broken?”

Soonyoung’s voice comes through, joking, but you sense a pinch of sincerity. “You want to name a raging forest fire after me… I feel like I shouldn’t be happy but I kind of am.”

You remember to push the button as you laugh, looking directly at the fire and shouting, “I hereby dub thee… the Hoshi Fire!” as loud as you can.

After the laughter dies down, for a second, there’s quiet - not awkward or for the sake of a bit, just quiet. Soonyoung’s not telling a story, you’re not giving witty comebacks. It’s just the two of you and the fire, alone in the forest.

It breaks eventually. Soft, gentle. “I’m glad you’re out here, you know,” Soonyoung says.

His words make you stiffen and relax all at once, and almost on instinct you look in the direction of his tower. You can’t really see the silhouette - the sun too far gone, taking the last of its light with it - but you know it’s there, can pinpoint exactly where it should be. You hope Soonyoung’s looking over at you, too.

And even if the reason you’re here in the first place is still a tender bruise to be pressed, you find yourself recovering a little more every day. “I am, too,” you respond. “I… I wish you were over here.”

It’s a roundabout way to say I miss you, but a part of you thinks neither of you are ready for something that explicit. You reach a hand out in the direction of Soonyoung’s tower, grasping at it like it might bring him to you. It’s not as if you can’t meet up with him again, but… between the distance and the fact that there’s an actual fire to keep your eye on, it certainly wouldn’t be easy. This is the closest you can get for now.

“I wish I was too,” Soonyoung says. You close your eyes to picture him, pretty smile and fond eyes. “We could hang out, like last time.”

“Without the radios,” you add. 

“We could, um… you know.”

His words make you giggle, and you feel a little lucky that you’re not holding down the button. Your heart is pounding in your chest, nervous but stable, secure, as you reply. A welcomed beat, even if startling.

“No, I don’t,” you tell him. Your soda sits forgotten, half-empty, on the floor of the deck by your feet. You don’t bother paying attention to the fire. “What could we do?”

Soonyoung groans and this time you laugh pushing the button so he can hear you, warm and affectionate. “Don’t tease me! You know what I’m talking about.”

You do. “What could we do, Soonyoung?”

There’s a pause, but you know he’s still there.

“Well,” he says eventually. “Let me tell you.”

DAY SEVENTY-SIX.

The fire’s gotten big.

You feel like you shouldn’t be surprised by it - it’s a wildfire, they’re not exactly easy to contain, but seeing it up close like this is vastly different from being in a city and barely even noticing the smoke. It is larger than life out here, consuming more and more of the forest each day. The last few days you’ve spent inside due to the low visibility (though it’s not as if you take a hike every day anyways). It makes you wonder if it’s safe to stay out here.

“...Hey,”  Soonyoung radios in. “I have a question for you.”

Rationally, you know whatever it is, it can’t be that serious. But your heart picks up pace anyways, beats a little harder as you pick up your radio to respond. “Look, it was Jihoon’s idea to use the fireworks, I promise neither of us knew it would start the fire.”

Soonyoung sputters out a laugh and you match him, feeling yourself calm down. “I’ll… I’ll ask Jihoon about that later, but - I really do have something to ask you.”

You lay down in your bed, unmade and messy. “Is it… bad?”

“I don’t think so,” Soonyoung responds. “Maybe?”

“Okay…” you say, timid. “Shoot.”

“When you first got here, I asked why you took the job,” he says, and you nod to yourself, remembering the first call you got from him. “You just… never really responded. I get it if it’s, like, a touchy subject, I don’t want to pressure you at all…”

“No,” you interrupt before you realize what you’re saying. You take a deep breath, Soonyoung waits. “No, it’s probably… it might be good to talk about it. I’ll tell you.”

He murmurs an okay, tells you to take your time and you do. It’s not like you’re scared to tell him - you’ve come to trust him, you know he won’t judge you for anything that happened or think any differently of you. You’re not even sure that’s why it’s hard for you to talk about - rather than any sort of outside force that might affect you, it’s more… more of a part of you that you felt you lost. It’s more coming to terms - even after these months - and going through the motions. It’s scary to talk about disconnection, especially from the one thing you loved (love?) more than anything.

“I… write,” is how you start, looking at the ceiling of your cabin as you speak. “Or wrote, maybe? I’m an author. I have a few books published. Writing is something I’ve loved since I was so young, it’s… a part of me, really. It’s special to me.

“When I finally got a manager and a publishing company and all that official stuff, I was so excited. It was like I was finally living my dream. I wrote my first book and got it published and it did really well, so my management asked me to do another, and I did. Then they asked for one after that, and I didn’t… it felt too soon, in a way. Rushed. But I guess I did it because I had to, because I figured this just came with being a writer and not everything is what you want it to be - and I didn’t want to risk losing what I had wanted almost my entire life.”

You take a moment to steady yourself, note the tremble of your fingers and take a few deep breaths. Soonyoung waits for you, patient and kind. “It went like that for a while, and I lost touch with writing. I stopped loving the only thing I knew how to love. I was so detached from it. A few months before I took this job my manager set up a press conference for me, and I… kind of… had a breakdown. At the conference. So I’m out here to run away for a second. Be away from it all.”

The quiet that follows doesn’t make you nervous, really, but you’re still waiting for a reply of any sort. Even if it’s the common oh or it’ll be okay that you got from distant friends and relatives who didn’t know what was really going on. But Soonyoung was patient with you, so you can be patient with him.

“Have you written since?” He asks after a minute, and your eyes flash over to the journal on your desk. One page has the familiar strokes and loops of your handwriting, written after you met Soonyoung in person.

“Only once,” you respond, truthful.

“When you start to write again… will you show me?”

And for some reason the question is so tender, filled to the brim with something you want to name. It makes tears spring to your eyes as you look out over the rising fire, trying not to let your voice shake too much as you reply.

(Maybe it’s because he said when and not if, maybe it’s because he didn’t tell you it’ll be okay, maybe it’s because it’s him and not someone else telling you the same thing.)

“Yeah,” you say, letting go of the button to sniff. “Yeah, I will. If you let me see one of your dances.”

You hear Soonyoung’s smile through the radio as he tells you it’s a deal.

DAY SEVENTY-EIGHT.

For the first time since you started working, someone who isn’t Soonyoung calls you through the radio (not counting the time you radioed Jihoon to make sure he was still alive, because you only saw him once and hadn’t heard from him since then). You hear the familiar click that tells you someone’s on the station, and you’re fully expecting Soonyoung’s voice to light up your cabin the way it always does. Instead, Joshua’s voice rings through.

“You there?” He asks after a comfortable call of your name, and you pick up your radio.

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s been a while,” you respond, and Joshua hums. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve… been,” he tells you, which earns a small laugh. “Anyways, I called in to let you know that they’re having trouble controlling the fire -”

You take a look at the giant flume of smoke north of your tower, nodding to yourself. “I can see that.”

Joshua tells you to be quiet. You hear the friendly smile in his voice.

“There’ll be an evacuation team here within the next two days,” he says. “Maybe less, shouldn’t be more. They’re gonna get all the lookouts evacuated.”

Oh. Evacuation? That means… the city. Your apartment, back to your family and friends. You’d forgotten an entire world exists outside of the bubble you created for yourself.

“Okay,” you say slowly, still looking at the fire. “I assume you’ve told the other lookouts?”

“I’ve got a few more to call, but other than that, yeah, everyone’s covered. I told Soonyoung and Jihoon first,” Joshua tells you, and you blink at the fact that you didn’t even have to ask. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Yeah. Stay safe, Josh.”

You sit for a while after that, trying to cope with the feeling in your chest. You… you feel better about everything, about writing, for sure, but. But. It’s cut short, even if only by a little over a week. You haven’t even started packing anything up - so much of you is strewn around the cabin, in the field around your tower, in the trees of the forest you hiked through. You don’t think you’re ready to say goodbye to the place you’ve made your home and the people (person, your heart whispers) with it. 

The sun starts to set and the fire grows. You sit on your bed and look at the things you’ve made your own, a sunken, unfinished emotion spreading through you. Eventually it is Soonyoung’s voice that comes from your radio, low and humorous.

“The Hoshi Fire can’t be stopped…” he murmurs, and you laugh despite the loss you feel. 

“Please,” you groan into your radio after you’ve grabbed it. “We’re getting evacuated!”

Soonyoung giggles, something mischievous that makes your heart warm with slow appreciation. “I can’t believe it’s ending so soon,” you say, standing up to walk around aimlessly.

“Yeah, the summer went by super fast, huh?” Soonyoung replies. “I’m kind of excited, though. I’ve missed a proper dance studio.”

That’s… oh. 

A current of mild surprise rolls through you and you think you physically feel your jaw drop, just a little. That - that hurt. More than you want it to, more than you think it should - but it’s... fine. You’ve only known Soonyoung for a few months, it’s not like…

You realize you haven’t responded and open your mouth on purpose this time. “I wish we could share the sentiment, Hoshi,” you joke, hoping it doesn’t sound too stiff. 

If Soonyoung notices anything, he doesn’t say it. Only laughs, sweet and genuine. “I’m sure you’ll find something to yearn for just as I yearn for dance,” he says dramatically. You laugh, forced, because yeah, you will. Maybe you already have.

DAY EIGHTY.

Evacuation day.

Last day in your tower. Last day in the forest. Last day of the job you took to escape, to heal. It’s spent packing up the things you brought with you, throwing away everything else. Joshua said helicopters would be touching down at two points - Twin Peaks lookout and Mule Point lookout. Twin Peaks is Soonyoung’s tower, and if you planned it out right, you could probably get there and leave with him.

You tell yourself that the reason you can’t is because Mule Point is closer. Safer. They’re evacuating you for a reason.

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil, you think, grabbing your radio from its charging port. “Hi.”

“So,” Soonyoung says. For the first time since you’ve known him, he seems awkward. “Evacuation day.”

“Yessir…”

“What evacuation point are you hiking to?”

You pause, hesitate like you’re about to say something you shouldn’t. “Mule Point,” you manage to get out. “It’s closer,” you say after, your brain telling you to justify it, explain.

“What did the Hoshi Fire ever do to you?” Soonyoung huffs out through a laugh, and it sounds so unaffected that you feel that ache from before again. After a second, he adds, “so… this’ll be the last we talk. At least for a while.”

That realization hits you like a brick and the sting behind your eyes seems normal - regardless of whatever was built between you and Soonyoung or what lead you out here in the first place, it’s so sad that it’s ending. “Yeah,” you say quietly. Everything is packed, you just need to get hiking. “I, um. Is it cheesy to say thank you?”

“Maybe,” Soonyoung chuckles. “But it’ll also make me feel really good, so…”

You feel yourself calm down and let out your own small giggle. Maybe it was always meant to end this way, a little too soon, a little too sad. “Really… thanks, Soonyoung. I think it would’ve been worse for me if I got the silence I came out here for. I’m glad I had you to talk to.”

“Thank you, too,” Soonyoung says back. “I hope… you write again. I’ll talk to you later.”

The mention of it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, and you feel the smallest of smiles on your lips. “Yeah. Later.”

The radio clicks off and that’s the last you hear from Soonyoung.

EPILOGUE.

It’s hard to come back.

From nature, from Soonyoung - everything, really. To go from trees and fires and talking every night back to car horns, busy sidewalks and your own apartment. It’s weird to wake up and not see the immediate shine of the sun through your windows. But you come back, slowly get used to the life you had before.

And you start writing.

Given - you get back in August only start writing again in October, but you write. Little by little, page after page. Maybe not every day, like you used to, but the words are back and they are eager to get out, leave their mark as your work. You stand up to your management (with Minghao’s support) and take control of your own writing schedule. The pressure from before leaves. Writing becomes special more than ever, returns as the one thing you never get truly tired of.

Minghao asks about the job, your summer. You tell him it was easy and peaceful, and that you’re thankful for the time. You mention the other lookouts. You mention Soonyoung. Only in passing, though. 

(Minghao definitely suspects something, but even if he asked, you wouldn’t tell him much.)

Sometimes you allow yourself to think of him - when you got back, you looked for a Soonyoung in the multiple dance studios in the city, but since you didn’t have a last name or any proper title, nothing came up. After that, you gave up, but he still shows up in your thoughts from time to time, bright blonde hair (the roots growing in) and glowing smile. It’s cold out, now, so you hope he isn’t getting sick and that he’s staying warm.

You’re reminded of just how cold it is when you have to brace the outside world to get your mail. There’s not even any wind, just an undeniable cold, and it makes your nose burn and eyes water as you walk the short trek to your mailbox. You find your slot and push your key in, unlocking it and gathering your mail. Most of it is junk, but you could have sworn something you ordered was supposed to come today -

“Excuse me?”

You turn your head to the voice and find a man walking towards you, his head turned down towards a small piece of paper. His voice sounds familiar, but you figure it must just be a neighbor you haven’t spoken to in a while. You turn your body to him, waiting for him to look up from the note so you can place a name on him. “Do you know where I can find an author…”

He looks up.

It’s Soonyoung.

He looks a little different - his hair is shorter, dyed black instead of the platinum you remember from last July. But it’s definitely him. The longer you stare at each other the wider his smile gets, and you stand, speechless. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world. Your heart starts to race, warms you up beneath your jacket.

“Found you,” Soonyoung grins. You can’t take your eyes off of him.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “You did.”

[slygirl666]

the thin line

Warnings: sex language all that shit

authors note: this is one of those drafts I promised because why not, not edited and not my favorite

words: 3453

You flopped onto the couch. Fred, who was nursing a glass of scotch, looked up at you shocked.

“Bad date, I reckon?” He looked sympathetic, a rare trait for him.

“The absolute worse,” you groaned, moving to lean on his shoulder. “First off he was constantly talking about his exes, yes multiple, and not even twenty minutes into the date he tried to put his hands up my skirt.”

“No,” Fred mock gasped. “You wait till at least the third date to let a man publicly get you off.”

You slapped his shoulder but couldn’t hold in the laughter what he said. “What about you? Huh, Fred, correct me if I’m wrong but you're going through a dry spell yourself.”

“This isn't about me Y/N.” he glared at you. You seemed to have struck a nerve.

It was true you and Fred have no secrets between you, having lived together for the last year. In the beginning you had often met women he kept around for a week at most, at times even playing the angry girlfriend when a one off overstayed their welcome. Fred often caught you doing the walk of shame through the joke shops door after your latest night out.

“I’m sorry your date sucked, love.” he stroked your arm soothingly. “If you’d like I can draw you a bath, get you some wine.”

You nodded, It was a ritual. Failed love life, he drew you a bath and let you relax; if he had a stressful day at work you would read to him (something he didn’t enjoy doing himself, but loved listening to) while he rested his head on your thigh.  

Fred walked to your bathroom running the water, before moving to the kitchen getting you a glass and bottle. “Bubbles?”

“Always,” you shouted to him.

In a few minutes time Fred was at the doorway to get you, “come on princess Bath is ready.”

You smiled, moving to twist your hair up as you walked into the bathroom. Once you were undressed and in the tub, which was filled to the brim with bubbles, Frec came back in lowering the toilet seat so he could sit and talk with you.

“How many dates is that this time around?” Fred asked, pouring a glass for you.

“Three this week,” you sighed while drinking some of the bitter liquid. “I’m I that horrible to look at? I mean not to sound vain but I have a decent face, and my tits aren't half bad either.”

Fred choked on the drink he took.  “I mean-”

“Don’t answer that, let me wallow in self pity for a few hours,” you rolled your eyes kicking up some water. “Tell me, anything new happening in the shop?”

Fred talked excitedly about his newest product. The two of you sat there until your skin started to prune. You shooed him out so you could get ready for the night.  

Once again you found yourself on the couch with Fred's head in your lap. You ran your fingers through his ginger hair. He made small appreciative moans that you felt lower in your body than you should have.

“We should get some sleep Fred,” you smiled down to him, before shocking him off lightly to go to your own room.

You spent a couple hours tossing and turning, Pressing your legs together to create some form of much needed friction. It had been months since you’ve slept with someone and the fact that you needed to get laid was more evident in the fact that sounds your best friend made had you hot and bothered.

It was well past midnight, Fred had to be asleep, so you gave in.

“Fuck it.”

You allowed one hand to trail to your underwear teasing yourself through the fabric. You were already wet and frustrated but you didn't want to give in just yet. You trailed your pinky finger up and down your clothed heat applying the slightest bit of pressure over your clit.

You bit your lip to muffle the goan escaping your lips, before moving to your dresser pulling out a bullet vibrator. You clicked it on the sound of the light buzz increasing your ever growing excitement. You pressed it against your navel before guiding it down past the elastic of your underwear it was centimeters away from your center, a loud moan dripped from your lips as it touched that aching bundle of nerves.

A knock at the door interrupted your high. “Y/N, you okay?”

“Yes Fred,” you clicked off the bullet, shoving it under your pillow. Just in time to see Fred peak his head through the door.

“I thought I heard something,” Fred sat on the edge of your bed. “Came to check on you, only to hear it come from your room. Are you alright?”

You refused to meet his eyes, the smirk that played on his lips told you he had some idea of what you were up to.

“I’m fine fred, thank you for your concern.” you tried to end the conversation, but you felt the mattress shift beside you as fred got comfortable.

“So Princess, what were you doing?” his voice was low in your ear, making your breath hitch.

“Nothing, Freddie,” you were breathless and he knew what he was doing. “I’m going to bed.”

You felt him pull you to his chest, his soft breaths lulling you to sleep.

The next morning you woke to Fred stirring awake, he was not a morning person so you struggled out of his grasp to the kitchen.

You put on a pot of coffee before jumping up to sit on the counter next to the machine. You sat there listening to the coffee drip, thoughts flooded with the cheeky bastard you woke up next to.

George came in through the door looking exhausted, he looked to you then to the slowly filling up pot of coffee.

“You are an angel, L/N.” George went to the covert to bring out three mugs. When it was finished he poured the dark liquid adding milk and sugar to the three mugs.

The smell of the coffee seemed to drag Fred out of bed. He walked into the kitchen groggily you picked up and offered him a mug that he took with a sleepy smile. “Morning Princess, Georgie.”

George quickly told Fred about the plans for the shop before the two men parted. Fred to get dressed, and George to their office to do paper work.

Fred came out of his room in a nice suit using his wand to do his tie as he walked towards the front door.

“See you tonight, Y/N.” he smiled at you, straightening his tie.

Being a Saturday meant you didn’t have to go into work for the weekend, you used your wand to clean up the mess you had all made before moving onto your room.

You debated upon making your bed, before moving the pillow you slept under. You were shocked to find your vibraitor not under your pillow but on the nightstand. There was one explanation you didn’t even want to think of.

You laid yourself down back onto the bed, deciding a few more hours of sleep would be best.

Fred came back after work to find you watching a tv show. He settled onto the couch.

“What are you watching?”

“Muggle tv show.” you took your eyes off the tv. “We should go out tonight.”

“Should we?” Fred kicked off his shoes, “does this have something to do with last night? Or maybe what I found under my pillow this morning?”

“Yes,” you answered plainly. “And to be fair you invited yourself into my room, what you found was your fault.”

You got up going to your room to find something to wear to a club. You found a black leather skirt and low cut tank that had lace framing your breast perfectly.

You walked out of your room to find Fred had discarded his jacket and suit vest leaving him in a pair of dark slacks, a lavender shirt and his tie.

You walked to him face to chest with him. You moved to loosen his tie and remove it, “you are still a bit too formal for clubbing. Undo the top tree buttons and roll your sleeves up.”

You instructed going to the shoe rack for your heels, before slipping them clumsily.

“Where are we going?”

“Muggle club, in London,” you put your arm through his. “A lot of uni students go there, so plenty of people our age.”

The two of you disapperated to the three broomsticks to go through to Muggle London.

You pulled Fred around till you found the place you were looking for, a place a muggle born friend of yours had shown you straight out of hogwarts.

You waited in the line of people until you were allowed in. the two of you made a B-line for the bar.

Fred ordered your drinks while you looked around the club, “tall blond, near the door. She’s checking you out.”

“You sure?” He looked in the direction you told him. “She’s pretty, might do for a night.”

He handed you your drink walking off to the direction of the blonde woman. You knew you wouldn’t see him for a while, possibly all night. You sat at a seat overlooking the dance floor, you saw a familiar flash of red hair under the neon lights as he danced jokingly with the girl you pointed out to him.

You sat back enjoying your people watching. “You look far too pretty to be sitting alone.”

You turned to see a man, he was handsome with dark curls and light eyes contrasting with the carmel color of his skin. “Something must be wrong, let me guess you were cheated on?”

“No,” you smiled at his assumptions.

“Girls night out and you are the DD,” you lifted your drink and he thought. “Heart broken?”

You tilted your head giving him a small smile, “it feels like it but i'm not sure, can someone who never had your heart break it?”

“That’s way too poetic for a girl in a trashy club,” he laughed. “Calen Collens.”

“Y/N L/N,” you offered him a hand to shake. “Would you like to dance?”

He smiled taking you to the dance floor, the movements the two of you made close and slow.

Soon his lips found your ear. “Be mine tonight, Y/N?”

That was too much, too forward. Sure she let him flit and held him close but the fact he would be so forward. “I’m going to go to the restroom.”

You ran as fast as you could in heels, you found Fred pressed against a wall with the blonde on his lips.

“I'm going home,” you walked past them out into the cold night tears threatening to fall. It was dark and Muggle London wasn’t the safest palace at night, you just had to find somewhere secluded.

There were footsteps behind you, you ducked into an alleyway hoping they would stop. They didn't. You felt a hand grab your forearm and you drew your wand.

“Merlin, it's me,” you were spun around to be face to face with Fred. his eyes softened when he saw the tears on your face, he brought a hand to wipe at them. “Princess lets get you home.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, bringing his own wand out taking the two of you home.

* * *

The two of you were on the couch you had put on a movie and were resting with your head on Fred’s chest. He stroked your hair, “do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I met a man, he was charming and nice. But the moment that he asked if i could be his tonight I broke.” you laughed humorlessly, “i complain about the lack of sex in my life, hell you almost caught me getting off. Yet a hot man approached me and I had a breakdown like no other, and then I ruined your chance for a bit of fun. It’s pathetic.”

“No it isn’t,” Fred sighed leaning his cheek onto your head. “You just aren’t one for casual nights.”

“It would be easier if i was,” you rolled your eyes. “I also want trust and respect, but that's a bit much I guess.”

“It really isn’t Princess,” he lifted your chin to face him. “I think that's admirable.”

Your eyes met his, his hazel ones flicking from your lips to your eyes. You brought a hand to trace his jaw line, something you’ve done many times before but felt different now.

You felt his breath first, his nose bumping yours. He was giving you time to back away, you didn’t want to.

He pressed his lips to yours, they were softer than you could imagine. You brought your hands to his neck as his hands went for your waist.

You pulled him down guiding him on top of you.

“Room?” Fred breathed into the kiss, You let out a soft hum in response.

Fred guided you up, once you were on your feet he pulled you into him, leaning down to give you a breathtaking kiss.

He pulled away slowly dragging your bottom lip between his teeth.

You let out a moan, he pulled you by the hand as he rushed to his room.

“Are you sure about this?” He was hesitant once this line was crossed it could never be forgotten.

“We can freak out tomorrow,” you pushed him onto his bed. “Right now take your clothes off.”

“Gladly,” he moved to take off his shirt. You watched appreciatively as his arms flexed.

You sat with legs on either side of his waist, your fingertips tracing the exposed skin. His lips met your neck with light nips as he tugged on your tank top. You leaned back allowing him to pull it over your head.

You shivered at the sudden exposure to the cold air, Fred stared at you in awe. His hands came to cup your breast, the rough pads of his thumbs traced your nipple teasingly.

Your breath hitched and he threw you a cheeky smirk before bringing his tongue out and flicking one.

You moaned at the contrast of the cold air and the heat of his mouth. Every movement he made every lick, nip and suck felt expertly practiced.

His hands fell back to your hips using them to push you off him and have you land with your back pushed into the mattress. He kissed down your navel before making eye contact with you.

“You are fucking perfect.” he brought a hand under the elastic of your sleep shorts, his eyes went wide in surprise. “No underwear? You princess are in trouble.”

He pulled your shorts to your knees before continuing to trail his lips down to your center. His right hand following his lips while his left kept you in place.

He lifted his head as he brought his fingers to your core, letting out a breathy chuckle when you moaned. He put two of his fingers into you. He put the two both into his mouth, he hummed smirking at your reaction.

“Okay, Fred, that- that was hot.” you let out an airy laugh completely off guard. He kissed your inner thigh, the tip of his nose teasing where you want him the most. “Freddie-”

His name shifted to a moan as he trailed his tongue to your entrance.

A mew left your lips as he worked the flat of his tongue around up and down your entrance. He stopped the movement to allow his fingers back inside you. He got a bit bolder using his teeth to lightly nip at your clit. You moved your hands into his hair back arching as he continued to allow his tongue to flick at it, letting his teeth work in sync as well.

You gripped his hair slightly with a tug. “Fuck, Princess.”

You leaned up meeting his eyes, the sight of him between your legs, his mouth a mess, his torso exposed was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. “Are you ready? because I absolutely am.”

“Just be inside of me freddie,” you looked up at him through your eyelashes. Got up to remove his pants

The anticipation that you felt watching him stroke himself was insane. You watched him in what felt like slow motion as he pumped his cock, a look of blissful relief crossed his handsome features.  

The trob between your legs felt unbearable, “hurry up Fred, please.”

“Needy thing aren't you?” he chuckled, moving his hand back to line himself up to you. When he finally entered you you moaned happy to feel him.

* * *

You woke up sore tangled in sheets that aren't yours,as the weight of the bed shifted. Fred moved to find his clothes.

“Morning, Freddie.” you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. It wasn’t the first time you woke up in his bed but this time was extraordinarily different. You found your shorts discarded on the floor before moving to pull them on, you felt his eyes watching you. “What time is it?”

“Seven,” you turned to find him sitting in just a pair of boxers. He looked lost so you found your way back to him standing between his legs. “We’ll talk after I finish up at the shop, right?”

You moved your fingers to trace his worried face. “I’ll be right here like I always am.”

You threw on a shirt and went for the door.  

“George will be suspicious if we were out at the same time, I’ll make you coffee.” you walked out going to your own room to throw on a robe.

When you put coffee grounds in the machine and clicked it on George walked through the door, pulling you in for a side hug. “If i weren’t engaged I would marry you L/N, Freddie should.’

“Angelina ban coffee again?” you laughed finding three tall mugs for all of you.

“If I didn't love her or the child that we made I would leave because of that coffee ban.” he sighed dramatically.

“You don't mean that, shut up and get the cream from the fridge,” you rolled your eyes watching the drip of the coffee finish.

Fred emerged from his own room with a sleepy grin, faker. You poured him a cup with all the fixings before handing it to him. “Morning Princess, sleep well?”

He winked at you over the brim of his cup. “No, something had me rolling around all night, nothing I can't fix.”

He laughed as George looked between the two of you, “I don't get you two.” he walked out the door down to the office.

Fred pulled you close, “ tonight?”

“tonight,” you tiptoed to kiss his nose.

He smiled with a boyish charm and walked out the door with a small hop in his step. Now was the time to overthink everything.

Was it a mistake?

Did he hate it?

Were you bad?

Would you guys ever be the same?

You went into the kitchen and pulled out Molly’s baking cards. If you were going to talk may as well have something sweet while you were at it. With the wave of your wand music filled the room from the radio. You moved your hips along with the beat. Looking through the cards you decided on her tentacle tart recipe, not finding everything you went out to the store.

You spent your day doing small things, organizing your stuff in the bathroom, doing your laundry and reading two books.

When the door to the apartment opened you jumped up from the couch. “Fred.”

“Y/N, how was your day?” you watched as your usually overly confident best friend shuffled his feet bashfully.

“Sit down Fred,” you laughed. “We don’t have to be awkward, let's be grown ups now freddie. Tentacle tart?”

He nodded letting a carefree chuckle escape him. “Please, so we had sex.”

“I'm pretty sure we were both present, what should we do now? Pretend it never happened-?

“No, I don't want to pretend it never happened.”

“Neither of us have dated any since our school days, and we live in such close quarters I don’t think casual will suit us.”

“We don’t have to label it you know, we can just be us.” Fred finally met your eye, his usual smirk finally finding his face. “Bet mum would be happy.”

“We could just let them figure it out,” you chuckled. “Ginny told me the whole family has money on us.”

[thiswasinevitableid]

for the meet uglies, sternclay 60 sfw? OwO

Here you go!

60 Sterncly SFW. we’re both on a reality show (like the queer bachelor) where we’re told to be friends but the first time we met, you were incredibly rude and judgmental and I don’t know if I can do this for the damn cameras

“So, Barclay, now that we’re a few days in, what’s your impression of the other contestants?”

“They, uh, they all seem like great guys. We come from a lot of different backgrounds, so that’s kind of interesting to be around but, uh, I live in a place that’s like a big, chosen family, so being in a house with a bunch of types of personalities is kinda, uh, homey.”

“There’s no one you think you’ll struggle with?”

“Uh. Well. I, uh, I don’t like Joseph too much. He came in and he’s so, like, phony from all the years in the FBI. It’s like he’s trying to be polite and charming but really he thinks we’re all idiots for being here. Which, like, buddy, last I checked you signed up for this the same as the rest of us.”

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

“Joseph, any worries about the other contestants?”

“No. I mean, we’re competitors on a dating show, not enemies. I think we’re all trying to show Vincent the best versions of ourselves.”

“There’s no one you’ve had conflicts with?”

“........I, um, Barclay and I got into a small argument earlier about the house rules. But I’m sure if we both stick around long enough we’ll come to an understanding.”

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

“Gentlemen, this cannot continue.” Ned, the producer, sits on the couch across from them. Barclay glares at Joseph, but the other man keeps a cool demeanor. Great, he’s making Barclay look like the big, angry mountain even off camera.

“I thought reality shows needed conflict to thrive.” Joseph cocks an eyebrow.

“They do, but about big things, like love and rivalry. Not how to properly load a dishwasher.”

“I’m just trying to be efficient.”

“My way is perfectly fine.” Barclay snaps, “jesus, I worked in kitchens for years, I know how to get clean plates.”

“That doesn’t make it optimal.”

“Do you have to be right about everything?”

“Gentlemen, you recall we have a housekeeping staff, right?”

“It doesn’t matter” Barclay doesn’t take his eyes off Ned, “we’re supposed to all get along, not all try and prove we’re the smartest guy in the room.”

“See, this is your problem, you need everyone to like you, to see you like a big brother, but you’re missing the fact that at least three of them have decided your gentle giant persona is a threat and they’re trying to oust you.”

“It’s not a persona, it’s just how I am. We aren’t all government shams disguised as men.”

Joseph’s facade cracks for a moment, blue eyes trying to light Barclay on fire.

“Enough.” Ned shakes his head, “you may despise each other as much as you please behind the scenes. In front of the cameras, please try to act as if you’re not ten seconds away from coming to blows. Agreed?”

They trade a final, furious look.

“Agreed.”

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

They’re a little over three weeks in; Vincent is still doing lots and lots of short, individual dates between the group outings, so the contestants have ample time to hang around the house and get on each others nerves.

Case in point: Joseph was right when he warned Barclay that others saw him as a threat. Chad, Alex, Nico, and Rich have all decided to go after him. Just this morning he’s been told he’s not man enough for Vincent (he shooed a wolf spider out of the kitchen with a broom instead of squishing it), too girly (he offered to make cupcakes if people wanted), and too big (who'd want to fuck a six foot tall puppy).

His mood is not helped by Joseph chatting away on the couch about his former job with the FBI. Barclay swears it’s all the asshole knows how to talk about. Maybe it’s time for Barclay to play a game of his own.

“Hey, Joseph.”

The other man turns, black hair perfectly slicked back like he thinks he’s some kind of movie star.

“I bet you ten bucks you can’t make it until eight tonight without talking about your job.”

The other contestants in the room snicker, several even giving Barclay a thumbs up.

Joseph adjusts his shirt sleeves, “You’re on.”

Ten hours later, Barclay is forced to get his wallet. The other man never mentioned the FBI once. In fact, he did Barclay an even bigger favor; he didn’t talk at all.

He finds the agent sitting on the back steps leading into the garden. Stays standing as he holds out the cash, “you win fair and square.”

Joseph looks at the money, then looks away, “I did it to show I could, not for the bet.”

“I mean, you didn’t have to go, uh, quite so hard on the silence thing.”

“I didn’t mean to. But, um, every time I was going to open my mouth, I realized it was somehow related to work. So I kept quiet.” He sighs, stretches out his legs. He’s in slacks, because of course he is, “I must have been so tedious to listen to, no wonder I was driving you up the wall.”

“Joseph-”

“I really am married to my career. I guess it’s not surprising my last chance for love is on a T.V show.”

“Hey, I get it.” Barclay sits down next to him, “when I was first working in commercial kitchens my hours were crazy; I barely saw my apartment, my friends, my boyfriend who pretty quickly became my ex. But it was what I needed to do to build the career I wanted for myself. To do what I loved.”

Only the crickets and the distant waves reply. Then, “You said you were a private chef now, right? Along with writing cookbooks?”

“Yeah. Kinda surprised you remembered.”

“Listening is a major skill in my profession. Besides, it’s polite to pay attention to what people tell you.”

“What’s your job now? You only ever talk about the FBI stuff?”

“Paranormal investigation. I never bring it up because people assume I’m out chasing Bigfoot with a shaky-cam or trying to communicate with haunted dolls.”

“So...what is it instead?”

“Helping people figure out they’re homes aren’t haunted or the monster on their property is just some owls. I like the challenge of solving the mystery, and I like helping people feel safe in they’re homes.”

Loud voices form inside; the caterers must have refilled the bar. He doesn’t really want to go in. It’s too nice out here.

“You wanna hear about the restaurant my coworkers swore was haunted?”

Joseph perks up, turning to face him, “Yes, please.”

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

He’d been really looking forward to beach day. Six guys are already gone, and Vincent has taken his fleet of suitors to the sunny San Diego shores. Barclay is dismayed to find all but three of the other guys have waxed their chests. Joseph hasn’t, but his happy trail is nothing compared to fucking black forest on Barclays torso. Nico’s gotten half the guys to call Barclay “bigfoot.”It makes him feel like he’s back in high school P.E freshman year, and his body image is rapidly sliding into that of a shy fourteen year old.

“Barclay!” Joseph comes jogging out of the surf towards the towels they lay down side by side when they arrived, “you should come in, it’s really the perfect weather for swimming.” He drops onto his towel, black hair a bit mussed. The swim-shorts that he thought were blue with green spots turn out to have not dots, but tiny UFOs on them.

“I, uh, I’m good. I, uh, I burn easily and I don’t think anyone wants to rub sunscreen on my hairy back.”

“Hey, Bigfoot, what’s wrong? Scared of what’ll happen if the cameras get a load of your gut?”

Barclay growls, stares at his toes. Joseph tracks Nico as he finishes jogging by. Then he calmly picks up a frisbee, aims a throw, and knocks his snapback off his head. He’s sitting down before the other man can work out who threw it. Barclay chuckles, but doesn’t get up.

“Bigfoot’s my favorite cryptid.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“And who gives a shit if you have a stomach.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re cut.”

Joseph grabs his sunglasses, “because I like that for my body. I happen to like yours just as much. Um I, I mean, it seems like Vincent likes it.” He tips his head towards the Bachelor, who gives them both a long once-over.

“...Will you do my back?”

“Of course, big guy.” The nickname sounds so right on his tongue it makes Barclay want to set his head in his lap and ask him to pet it.

It’s late afternoon when Ned herds them all onto a boat which promptly steers towards some cliffs. Joseph stays close to Barclay, pleasant expression noticeably tightening the closer they get to the rocks.

“I’ve been dreading this. Cliff diving is not something I’d pick to do on my own.”

“Heights?”

He shakes his head, “Deep water. I know it’s not rational, and I even checked to be sure there hadn’t been large shark sightings in the area, but I can never shake the feeling there’s something waiting just out of sight, ready to surge up and eat me.”

They all climb up together, Vincent staying on the boat to watch them jump (this is technically a friendly competition to show off how brave they are). As they’re turns get closer, Barclay sees Joseph doing deep breathing exercises.

They hit the edge. The agent freezes.

“Shit. I don’t think I can do this.”

“C’mon, where’s my daring special agent?”

Joseph still doesn’t move.

“You, uh, you wanna jump together? Maybe the megaladon or whatever will eat me instead.”

“Megalodons are extinct; we’d know if they weren’t, same as we know Whale Sharks aren’t.”

“They you are.” Barclay murmurs, smiling.

Joseph manages a smile back, “On three?”

“Yep. One, two” he grabs Joseph’s hand “three”

The water rises to swallow them with terrifying speed, but nothing is waiting for them except one very startled fish. They surface together, Joseph laughing triumphantly, hair plaster to his head and sun shining in his ocean eyes.

If Vincent doesn’t pick him, he’s out of his mind.

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

“Ohmylord, we have to play this.” Joseph cannot believe his luck; he figured the barcade group date would mean a lot of solo time, but here’s his favorite game in the whole wide world.

“Monster Hunt?” Barclay laughs as he lets himself be lovingly shoved down into the seat of a cut-out Jeep, “very on brand.”

“They had this at the bowling alley near my house. I’d play when my parents had league night but couldn't get a sitter. I never could beat the Mothman level without a player two.”

He doesn’t have that problem tonight, even with Barclay distractingly delighted and handsome in the seat beside him. After that, they make it their mission to find every two-player game in the thrum of flashing colors and tinny music. He finds they both like the Bowser Bourbon Smash, and somewhere around their fourth, heated game of air hockey they each polish of one too many of them to stay upright without the support of a game, a helpful show staff member, or each other.

When they get back to the house (their fellow contestants all in a similar state to themselves) they manage to make it to Joseph’s room before collapsing into a giggling heap on the bed.

“That, hic, that was fun. Games are, hic, fun.” Barclay blinks at him, “what’re you laughing, hic, at.”

“You, you got the hiccups. S’funny because you’re so big, like, like watching a, a pitbull with a, um, a” he makes a squeezing motion that his sober self would recognize as “squeaky toy.”

“M’not big” Barclay pouts, “I, hic, maybe everyone else is, hic, just small. Ever think of th--hic--at.”

“S’not a bad thing.” Joseph shifts so they’re facing each other, “like how big you are. Makes you sexy.”

Barclay blushes, “you’re, hic, one to, to talk. You’re hot, so, hic, so fucking out. Got, got those eyes. That, hic, that face” He touches Joseph’s cheek, “love your face.”

“Love yours too.” Joseph says, stroking his beard. Then they’re moving in inelegant tandem, grabbing at each others shoulders and faces as their mouths find each other. Barclay is so warm, whimpering when Joseph rolls him on top, nipping his lips and pawing at him like a puppy hoping for a treat. Joseph is going to hold him close and let him have it.

A clatter from below, one of the other men knocking something over in the kitchen, breaks the spell.

“Wait, wait” Joseph reluctantly slides his hands of Barclays ass, “we, drunk, we’re drunk, too drunk.”

Barclay blinks down at him, pouting a little even as he groans “fuck, you’re, you’re right. Wanna, gotta remember this. Don’t wanna” he yawns, “regret it.” The instant he flops onto his back Joseph climbs into his arms and falls asleep to the slow rhythm of his breathing.

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

After that night, they agree to be more careful; they’re here for Vincent, to see if one of them is his true love. That’s what the contract they signed says.

“More careful” turns out to mean watching their alcohol intake around each other and only touching platonically (including falling asleep on the couch together. They wake up to cameras recording their nap. Barclay isn’t sure what Joseph threatens Ned with, but the footage never sees the light of day).

But unless they’re on a solo date with Vincent, they’re by each others side. Barclay teaches Joseph dominoes and how to make biscuits. Joseph introduces him to terrible old horror movies that they watch on his laptop and compliments his cooking every chance he gets.

They must be doing something right, because they move to the next round week after week, Vincent clearly enamored with both of them. Barclay certainly understands the feeling. Just not for the person who he’s supposed to.

“Joseph? If, uh, if neither of us win, what are you gonna do after this.”

“Go back to work. Maybe pitch my book about U.S cryptids.” Joseph’s smile goes shy for a moment before recovering, “but I wouldn’t worry, big guy; I think you’re the front runner for sure.”

Barclay knows for a fact that Joseph is a fan favorite and the suitor most people think will win. Which is why, when Vincent selects his final four, he’s not surprised Joseph gets the first rose. Then everyone but Barclay is holding one and Vincent is touching his shoulder.

“Barclay, please don’t take this as a sign I’m not deeply fond of you. This wasn’t an easy choice but I, well, I feel like your heart may not be in this anymore.”

He takes Vincent’s hand and squeezes it, “It’s okay. It was wonderful just to get to know you. All of you.” He looks at the final four, at Joseph’s calm, polite expression. He meets blue eyes as he says, “I hope you find someone who makes you happy.”

With that he turns, all too aware of the cameras tracking his exit, his face, how he’ll have to do a final interview and not reveal that he’ll hate Vincent forever but not blame him in the slightest if he marries Joseph.

“Wait!”

Every eye, lensed or no, turns back to the gazebo. Joseph is at the edge of the steps, poised to run. When he sees Barclay stop, he turns to Vincent.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this.” He hands the bachelor the rose, “I hope you understand.”

There’s no soundtrack on set, but strings swell in his ears all the same as Joseph descends the stairs and leaps into his arms, kissing him so hard he still has stars in his eyes when he opens them.

“It’s not a marriage proposal” Joseph whispers, kissing his cheek, “but I do have a question for you.” He pulls back, all cameras on them but his attention for Barclay alone, “would you like to be my boyfriend, big guy?”

Barclay rests their foreheads together, “Yeah, babe, I really, really would.”

[reytaliation]

「 waste of a lovely night. — bakugou katsuki 」

‣ genre — fluff, hogwarts au

‣ w.c — 1,5k

‣ warning — explicit language

‣ synopsis — katsuki hates you for the long time feud between your families. he hates you more now that you didn’t dance with him at the yule ball. 

‣ note — this piece has been modified from one of my writings on my main blog; if you find it familiar, this is probably why. 

only the celestial bodies above can know how melancholy katsuki is. but he’s met with a sky without stars tonight. 

with his head on his elbows, lips pressed into a straight, his gaze falls from the endless canvas of darkness to the hustle and bustle of students leaving the great hall to head back to their designated dormitories. an irritated sigh. he definitely doesn’t need to know what they’re going to do for the after-party. denki used to show him an article on this peculiar machine called ‘a laptop’ that the more you sigh, the faster you age. if you keep doing shit like this to him, he’s gonna be all old and wrinkly by the time you come here. 

if you’re going to show up at all that is. 

the moment he peels his eyes away from the overcrowded main gate, a figure is shuffling themselves through their drunk quidditch teammates, sloppy couples, and burnt out professors. they dash through the empty hallways to reach the spiral staircase, skipping three steps at a time, risking the chances of falling on their face just to get to him. 

pulling yourself to a halt at the last step, you see katsuki all curled up against the balcony railings and feel a pang of guilt wash over his innards like a wave. he’s pulling your legs toward his chest, defeated eyes gazing into the space ahead while his hair falls to his face messily. like he’s gone through the depths of the fourth dimension, struggling through dark matters and a rite of divinity at the end of the line. all for you. 

he’s beautiful. 

and the amount of affection that’s piling upon your rib cage? astronomical. 

his gaze is averted away; even with a slight scowl, sloppy clothes and messed up hair, katsuki still flares radiance. you think that if a meteor shower is happening right now, he can still outshine it. “you fucking came,” he mentions coldly. 

shit. he’s a lot less scary when he’s shouting and cursing at me. 

for once, you find yourself at a loss for words. “y-yeah,” you manage to swallow. yeah? what the fuck, y/n? is that all you’ve got to say?

“i-i’m sorry, katsuki. shoto accidentally mistook one of momo’s potions for his allergy medicine so i had to take care of that before coming,” you scratch your forearm awkwardly, head hung low with guilt. “i didn’t know it would take that long…”

katsuki pushes himself up, eyes rolling to the moon. “you were too busy taking care of icy hot that you forgot about your dance partner? the champions of the tournament were supposed to be there for the first dance, you dumbass.” 

wow, jealousy stinks, he chuckles internally. how old is he? three? 

“oh don’t even pretend that you wanted to be there for the first dance,” you huff in disbelief. 

he tilts his head, smirking. “and you couldn’t find yourself a proper partner.”

“i did, and i’m afraid he owes me something.” a slow smile begins to outstretch upon your facial muscles. “a dance, i believe,” you make a thinking face while striding toward him. 

coldly, katsuki yanks his tie loose. “i fucking beg to differ.” he’s not having it, you can tell. but will you ever give up? 

“a bet is a bet, katsuki.”

your hand fishes inside the pocket of your trench coat to take out your wand. your hand delicately gives it a swift flick; once, and twice followed by a low mumble from your lips. immediately, light pulses from the tip of the wand before shooting upward, disintegrating into a million bits as though a starry night is embracing the both of you. you repeat the same action again to cast a different spell. music laces through every fiber of air without effort, like honey being poured into your ears. 

“it’s just one bet,” you pout with a hand fully extended toward him. 

you should have realized how good katsuki looks tonight. a black dress shirt that’s buttoned below appropriate, matching trench coat, silver accessories lining his fingers and ears with naturally tousled hair. he looks so gorgeous that it almost suffocates you, that it almost makes you want to hiss ‘fucking unfair’ out loud. 

enchanted by his poise and grace, your body reacts without the consent of your mind. you seize up when you unknowingly place your hand on top of his, the touch sending electricity down his spine. a simple response has become all too complicated for his brain to process. 

you grow breathless the moment he grabs you by the waist and pulls you flush against him. “let’s get this shit over with, i’m tired,” katsuki remarks sarcastically to ease his nerves. 

“look, it’s not my fault that the goblet of fire chose me to participate in the tournament,” you chuckle lowly, eyes crinkling into crescent moon shapes while he sways you to the soft melody. dots of light continue to float around weightlessly, reflecting the golden flecks in his eyes. he’s ethereal in the worst way—the way that isn’t healthy for your heart. 

katsuki soon slaps on another scowl when he realizes you just reminded him of why he’s even here in the first place. if only he weren’t so salty about slytherin winning his team over at the final quidditch match before the holiday occurs. let’s just say he wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind after getting his ass kicked in his favorite sport. 

and you wasted no time to slip in between the line of comical humor and his ultimate torment. which results in—if katsuki gets to attend the triwizard tournament , you will leave him alone for the rest of his life; but if you are the chosen one, you get a dance with him at the yule ball. 

it’s really not all that bad if you think twice about it. dancing with bakugou katsuki, the gryffindor’s quidditch team captain, the student with perfect academics and (almost perfect) conduct for six years straight.

music threads through the atmosphere and lifts away gravity. you can’t count how many times you have stepped on his toes due to nervousness because you’re too much of a coward to look him in the eye. but he’s the only thing you can seem to focus on right now. 

“also, don’t you think this is a good opportunity to get rid of the tension between us?” you ask honestly, and this causes him to perk up. 

“what the fuck are you going on about?”

lights are twinkling with every step as katsuki spins you around gently, your dress billowing out prettily as your heels click against the cold concrete. after that, he swiftly pulls you back into his arms and you exhale in relief like you were meant to be there all this time. 

“don’t play dumb, you’re terrible at it. i know the only reason why you’ve been avoiding me since first year was because of our families’ stupid grudge. ”

his eyes are cast downward for a moment, his tone grows serious. “either way, my old geezers wouldn’t like to see me talking to you. and look at what we’re doing. we’re both fucked if they found out.”

“well, they can’t just magically appear now, can they?” you lean a little closer to lock your eyes with his. 

and katsuki breaks it seconds later. “we’re attending a magic school for fuck’s sake. anything is possible.”

“did they even tell you what the actual problem was in the first place?” you huff out in faint annoyance. 

he snorts audibly. “let me humor you. i don’t think they’d even remember.”

“then would you stop giving me that look as if i just shooed your owl way every time i said ‘hi’ on my way to class? have you ever thought about my feelings? about us being civil for once? like friends? or even more so?”

“fucking hell-“ 

his heart becomes all erratic at your words. it’s nothing like those fully-fledged, tear-jerking nor cheesyass confessions that he’s gawked at one too many times, but it makes his heart flutter and stirs up those cliché butterflies inside his stomach. this can’t be compared to the yule ball—it’s even better than that. because it feels as though you and him are the only presences that graze the surface of this land. there’s no one to judge, no fingers to point, no gossip spreading like wildfire. 

it’s perfect. almost. 

“whatever you’re planning for us, it’s not gonna fucking happen. it’s not supposed to happen. it’s not possible, y/n.”

wordlessly, you stop, move both of his hands to your torso, and wrap your arms around his neck. the sound of your heartbeat against his is so in sync they just drown out the music completely. time is frozen in place, leaving him to hang on the edge with you, hanging onto this single moment as thin as the red string of fate. he’s waiting for you to do something, say something. 

just then, you crack a wry smile and pull him closer by the nape of his neck, resting your forehead comfortably on his. 

“we’re attending a magic school. anything is possible.”

[mimssides]

Never Met You

Chapter 11: Love

You gave me a crown and a title. You accepted me with flaws and all. You gave me power over you and I gave you power over me in the most vulnerable way I know. I didn’t expect love to come for me anymore, but there you came and made my world bright and beautiful and worthwhile. Thank you, my agent of chaos.

The scream in the heart of the Theanan castle rang through the air. A veil was lifted and at once commoners as well as nobility realized what they had forgotten. The servants in the castle, the soldiers and weavers now realized who that weird new guard had been. They realized that they had joked, eaten and lived with their king.

Outside the Theanan boarders, three courts got in motion and the king in the North called for his older brother to immediately be brought to him.

But within the stone walls of the castle Logan didn’t pay any mind to these things. No, he ran. He ran back through the tunnel, threw his jacket off, didn’t turn around when he lost his crown. The backroom, the halls, the gate to the inner courtyard and finally the tents with the hurt soldiers. They all passed by him in a blur.

But the moment Logan entered the tent where his Remus was in, everything became painfully clear again. On a cot between four other men lay the king in a white robe. His hair was sticking to his forehead from sweat and his eyes were closed.

Everyone, except for another man sleeping on the bed to Remus’s right, was looking at Remus and Logan felt his legs give in. Hastily he stumbled forwards and just managed to kneel down to the side of Remus’s bed before he would have fallen without any control over it. And as Logan knelt and watched Remus’s face for the first time which felt like an eternity, tears welled up in his eyes. There he was, the man he adored, he loved, he had married.

Suppressing a whimper Logan looked through the room, searching for a physician or nurse. He spotted a woman next to the door, her eyes wide as plates and her face unspeakably pale.

“How is he?” Logan managed to say despite his voice cracking.

The nurse bowed her head and gulped before daring to say: “He- His Majesty is stable. The wound seems to be healing well and miraculously no vitals were severely damaged through the attack. I will get his physician, who will be able to tell you more, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” Logan said under tears and the nurse left the tent in a hurry to find the physician who had treated Remus.

In the meantime, Logan gingerly took Remus’s left hand with his own left. Something made a small clacking sound as they touched and Logan looked down on his hand. His ring was back again and so was Remus’s.

More and more all what had happened sunk in and Logan started to cry. He tried to be quiet to not disturb the other soldiers but all of it came down on him and it felt like it was tearing him apart from the inside. By the time Roman, Janus and Virgil finally entered the tent, Logan was positively sobbing.

Roman joined by his side mere moments later. Hushed whispers came up around them, the presence of both kings and the prince in a tiny tent being too unordinary for no one to not say anything about it. Usually, Janus would have stopped the talking with a single glare, but in the face of everything he could not bother himself to scold them. It was hard enough for himself to not break down at the sight of his oldest friend lying motionlessly in a bed because he had let him become the guard of his own husband. And so, Janus told Virgil to sit with them and waited for the either a nurse or a physician to return shortly.

In the next half hour Janus eventually got an update of Remus’s state, which was everything considered much better than Janus could have hoped, had both Roman and Logan calmed down and gotten them up from the floor where they had been kneeling. Now he stood with Virgil at the entrance of the tent, Roman sitting on the bed close to Remus’s feet and Logan sat on a stool still holding his husband’s hand.

Virgil shot Janus a look. He simply shook his head. No, he wasn’t fine but there was no time for him now. Logan was one of the hardest people to crack but being together with Remus for ten years, being married to the man for eight and then suddenly being cut off him without even knowing it, had done the trick. And he didn’t even want to think about how terrible all of this had to be for Roman. No, just looking at the prince gave him enough of an idea what was going on in his head.

It was time for Janus to get his mind off all of this. He needed to find out how the other courts reacted, what George was doing now and who the fuck had made a deal with a demon. He just had to leave the tent. Which was easy. Virgil could protect them. No one should come for them now.

“What do you need?”

Janus flinched and looked up to Virgil.

“What do you mean?”

Virgil shook his head and looked over to the bed and then back to Janus as he put his hand on his shoulder.

“You’re trying to convince yourself to get out of here and I think it’s stupid. The king is important to you. Just as important as Ro or I are. Just stay. Tell me what you need and I’ll go get it.”

No time to be emotional. No time to feel guilty. It was enough that Logan as well as Roman were out of order. He couldn’t slack off now.

But if he would let Remus out of his sight me might break out in tears.

The decision was made for him.

Logan held Remus’s hand tightly but not too tight. His other hand was resting on his stomach. Thoughts were flooding his mind and new tears formed once more in eyes despite his best efforts to stop them from running. He barely registered Virgil’s voice in the background, nor how Roman slid towards him to put his hand comfortingly on his back.

Movement from beneath his hand sent a shiver up his spine. He looked from his hand to Remus’s face and found his eyelids twitch slightly. He squeezed his hand in reflex and Remus squeezed back. Green eyes flickered open and before truly seeing what was in front of him his eyes already darted towards Logan.

“Your Ma-” Remus slurred but was cut off.

“Remus!”

The name came out with panic and relief and adoration. Logan didn’t know what to feel, how to express it and what to do but it all became clear just after a few moments. A few moments, which Remus needed to understand where he was, to realize that this indeed was Logan crying over him and that he had just heard his actual name for the first time in months.

“Oh, my brilliant bastard,” Remus said fondly and reached with his free hand for Logan’s face.

Finally, he got to smile the too wide and too inappropriate smile of his again. Finally, he could see Logan eye to eye again. Finally, he had his life back.

And to celebrate this he put his other hand on Logan’s shoulder and pulled him with all the dizzy might he had in a kiss. Logan reciprocated sloppily and after a few seconds broke away as giggles and hiccups shook through him. Remus didn’t mind and pulled him close. Under his breath he cursed as he realized how sore and aching he felt and just then Logan helped him lay down with gentle hands.

As Remus’s head was resting on the pillow again, he whispered to Logan: “You’re too kind. I’m not made of glass, you know?”

“I’ve gathered,” Logan hiccupped quietly. “Any other human being would have died of such a wound. What on earth were you thinking? What did she-”

“Wait a sec, darling,” Remus interrupted and blinked.

The longest thirty seconds of silence passed. Just that it wasn’t silent exactly. And that was what Remus had been listening for.

With a spark of mischief but mostly fondness Remus asked Logan: “Could you look under my bed?”

Logan looked like a third eye had just sprouted on Remus’s forehead.

“Come on! Humour me,” Remus pouted.

Usually, Logan would not have humoured Remus’s silly request. Not in front of his solider, even less in the presence of Janus. But today he would let it slide. Shooting Remus a stink-eye he pushed himself back from the bed and lifted the sheet, which was dangling over the side of the bed, hiding what was underneath it. He blinked. And then he smiled.

Gently Logan pushed his chair back further, shared a short glance with Remus and crouched. He lowered his head and looked under the shabby cot.

“And there I thought that monsters wouldn’t live under beds,” Logan said softly. “What a scary little monster you are. You were trying to get to our king, weren’t you?”

And then there was a pause where the whole room heard a little sniffle and how something shuffled under the bed. Perplexed they all stared as Logan crouched down further and stretched his hand under the bed.

“There, there. No need to feel afraid. No one is mad. Would you do me the favour and show me your scary face, little monster?”

And after a few seconds they watched as little hands grabbed Logan’s arm and the king pulled a little boy with curly hair out from under the bed. Roman gaped from the end of the bed and little Patton grappled Logan’s arm even closer as he heard the noise. Parentally Logan shooed him and quickly checked if he could see anything out of the ordinary with him but luckily found nothing. With his free hand Logan took a clean handkerchief from his pocket and began to wipe Patton’s face down. Patton tried to duck out from it and stopped to sniffle but Logan was persistent and eventually had been able to clean his face up.

“Now you look like a dashing monster. Much better, isn’t it?” Logan asked with a grin.

Patton pouted but a little smile broke through when he heard the voice from behind him.

“Hey, there Pat. Did you want to check on me?” Remus said and promptly had the little boy sitting directly in front of his face as he jumped up on the bed.

With some struggle Remus sat up again, mindful of the bandages and the pain from below his ribs. He didn’t want to tear anything but he really wanted to see eye to eye with Patton. And as he finally sat with his eyes glued to the floor, Patton nodded his head fiercely but kept his lips shut close as if he was afraid to speak.

“Patton, what is it? Why aren’t you looking at me?” Remus asked and tried to catch Patton’s gaze.

Patton’s eyes were red and puffy but he managed to get himself to look up. And yet despite his sad look and uncertainty, Remus saw something mighty shine within him.

With a tiny voice Patton asked: “Do you still want me now? I’m just a little kid. Why would you want me?”

How well Remus understood that question. How well he could feel the pain and doubt in it. He knew that he had to and would destroy that doubt, no matter how. He tapped on Patton’s cheek and made a funny face, which made his little boy smile.

“Well, for starters,” Remus said next, “I promised you to give you a soft bed in our home and goodnight stories and kisses every night. And that’s a lot easier now because I won’t have to ask JJ to give me a raise to buy a bed. And more importantly, me not wanting you? Very unlikely. So, so very unlikely. I mean who would turn down a kid, who is kind and brave like you? Who would turn down a kid who says hello to the most feared guard of Prince Roman? Who would turn down a kid who has broken into castle for snacks and to check on his friend? And who would turn down a kid who has taught a king how to clean a pan and how to use the public bathhouse?”

Remus pulled Patton into a hug. Patton’s tears sank into Remus’s shirt but he didn’t mind. He just held him and looked to Roman at the foot of the bed with a gentle pledge in his eyes to wait just a moment longer. He had to take care of his boy first.

“Oh Pat, how could I turn you down when you are the reason why I have stayed here? Because I planned on leaving the castle that day when we met. I planned on leaving all behind because it hurt so much that they didn’t remember me. Because of you I stayed. Because of you I got everything back and even more.”

Remus exchanged look with Logan. He nodded with tears in his eyes. Carefully, Remus pulled Patton back and ran his finger over his wet cheek, feeling himself tearing up.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got a son.”

And there the tear dropped.

“If you want to us to be your dads, of course.”

“I get both of you?!” Patton shouted excitedly and looked from Remus to Logan.

“We are kind of a package deal,” Logan said and pointed to his ring finger, “so yes. If you wish so we can become your parents.”

“Yes, please! And I don’t even have to make you become a couple!” Patton cried joyously and jumped around Logan’s neck who barely managed to catch him in time.

Remus shot Logan a pointed look but didn’t ask what that statement had been about. Soothingly Logan picked Patton up, explained to him that they had to let the physicians and nurses do their job and let them take care of Remus. Patton barely resisted. He had been hiding under Remus’s bed for a long while and it had exhausted him quite a bit. When Logan stood face to face with Janus, told him to stay with Remus while he would see what he needed to attend to, Patton had fallen asleep in his arms.

“You’re sure he’s not overworking himself?” Remus asked as he shifted in his bed.

After months of sleeping in a hard uncomfortable bed, his own matrass had felt foreign. But with Logan by his side, despite them not being able to cuddle, since Remus had still to heal quite a bit, things had been bearable.

Roman was sitting on the edge of his bed and rolled his eyes at Remus’s question as he said: “As if we would let him do that. I promise we won’t let him do anything too taxing. He's been with Pat for most of the time actually. I’ve done most of the work with Jan’s help.”

Remus pursed his lips and Roman sighed.

“It’s been a day since we remembered. You need to give him time. Jan feels like he’s failed you and you know what happened the last time his family ‘failed’.”

“I was a kid!” Remus grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Our parents had just died and I just wanted something to make sense. I know Jove hasn’t been responsible for any of this. He didn’t break his oath... Neither did Jan.”

Roman nodded and took his hand. Remus let him and watched Roman for a few minutes. They had spoken a bit after Logan had left but there were still many questions that needed to be addressed.

“They’ll ask at some point why I knew how to fight,” Remus began unusually subdued.

Roman shot him a glance. He shook his head.

“Don’t be like that. It was my idea, so I’ll take the blame. Mom didn’t want us to learn how to fight because of me, and you just had to follow through to not make me suspicious. But frankly, at this point I don’t even know if I can fall into a blood rage. I mean, I sat in our parents' blood and it didn’t happen.”

“True.”

“Still makes me a demon, I know. Don’t remind me.”

Remus snickered and slapped Roman’s arm.

“I didn’t even say anything, but I guess that happens with an identical twin...”

Roman mused over the next words for a while. He knew had gotten the better deal in the end. The younger brother. The spare. Being a demon had always frightened him but with Remus by his side everything had seemed easier. Janus helped him figuring his powers and strengths out and was also a pillar of support in his youth.

A deep inhale. Roman caught Remus’s eyes. He pressed his lips together and nodded.

“I think it’s time we tell them,” Roman finally said.

Remus sunk deeper into his pillow and grimaced. He had expected that Roman would want to take that step. They both had wanted to take that step for a long while but Janus had told them to hold back.

A thread of humour pulled at the corner of Remus’s mouth and he said: “I wanted to for a while. But now would be a good time. Especially since the curse was the Dragon Witch’s doing. It will be easier to explain to them why she did what she did to me. Still don’t know how Virgil hadn’t figured you out. Like, has he his eyes closed in the bedroom or does he have a fetish for blindfolds?”

“No, you dumbass! He thinks they’re tattoos!” Roman whined.

“Tattoos? That’s hilarious! How did he get that idea?”

“I don’t know man! He just assumed and it’s not like everyone knows what demon marks look like. It’s a fair guess from him. Don’t make fun of it!”

Remus continued to laugh as Roman whined and hit him once more in the arm. It didn’t do anything to stop Remus from teasing but at least Roman felt like he had at least tried to defend his partner’s honour. But after a while Remus finally had laughed his last laugh and the twins sat there in silence. There was another thing that was weighing down on Remus’s chest and he wasn’t sure how he should breach the topic.

“Pat will be in good hands. You’re just as good as dad was.”

Remus’s heart stopped beating. Roman looked at him fondly, like Remus never could.

“I’ve noticed when you came to protect me. You’ll do well. Pat’s lucky and so are we. Finally, his wish is going to be fulfilled; no more demons on the throne. With us this chapter will be finally over,” Roman said and laid his arm around Remus’s shoulder.

For the remaining time Roman stayed in Remus’s room, the brothers just held onto each other. It was scary for them to let go of their secret but at the same time both of them looked forward to it. They wanted to be seen. Wanted to be free of their past and somehow, through this tragedy they have gotten a chance they never could have dreamt of.

The war had officially been called off. King George had sent an official apology to Theana, promised a relief fund and had backed out of the alliance talks between the four kingdoms for the time being. In a letter directed at Remus and Logan he relied that Jean had been responsible for what had happened to Remus. He had fallen into madness and was beyond reason, which was why he had him removed from his position and thrown him into the dungeon. There was going to be a trial when they had more evidence for his treacherous alliance with the Dragon Witch. But if they wished they could weigh into the sentence, since they had been the most affected by his actions.

It had been Janus who responded to George’s letters. Remus was still resting for the week, and while he had read the letter, he did not feel up for making a decision over a life sentence. And while Logan was more than willing to speak a few words with the king they had decided together that they should give George a bit of rest as well. He had been a friend for a long time and while Jean was a terrible person, he was the remainder of George’s family and that was a hard truth to come back from.

And so, Janus had answered, that they thanked him for his information and offer but would for the time being hold off with a comment, since the royal couple was still recovering from the past months before they would decide on such a difficult topic.

But this was not the only thing which had kept Janus busy. He had to redo all of the warding symbols around the castle, had to answer messages from Scites and Kainen, had to keep the court in order, had to get the papers ready for Patton’s adoption. There was no time for him to sit around and chat. There was certainly no time to visit Remus now that he was supposed to be resting. Indeed, it was his duty to not disturb him to guarantee a quick recovery and-

“Hey JanJan.”

Janus jumped around. In a white nightgown stood Remus in front of him. Janus looked around, making sure that his head was not playing any tricks with his mind. But no, this was Remus standing behind him even though there was no way that he could have approached him from the direction he had been coming from.

“The secret passages pretty practical for getting around quickly. I found them when we were 10 or so. Dad said to keep them secret,” he explained a little sheepish and scratched the back of his neck.

Janus scoffed and wiped away some non existing dust from his sleeves. He would not give Remus the satisfaction of having startled him. Thank you very much.

“Come on! I didn't mean to startle you!”

“You should be in bed.”

Janus tried to turn around and walk away. Emphasis on tried. Despite everything Remus managed to close the distance between them and grabbed him by the arm. Viciously he charged towards him and lost all his vigour the second he saw his best friend’s sad look.

“Jan, please stop avoiding me!”

Angrily Janus pursed his lips and yanked his arm away from Remus’s grasp but didn’t attempt to flee anymore. He didn’t want to leave Remus. And so he stood and glanced up to Remus with and expectant look and a seemingly cold expression, Remus knew was as fake as the smile on Logan’s face when he had to listen and gossip with nobility over other nobles.

“I know it’s been a lot on you and I absolutely get that you are stressed but -” Remus voice cracked and he continued quietly – “I don’t wanna be without my best friend any longer! Ro ’s my heart, Lo ’s my lifeline but they’re nothing without you… I’m nothing without you. You’re my bestest friend, and I didn’t get the chance to talk with you about the fact that I’ll be a dad soon! A dad! And you’ll be an uncle and help me not spoil the cute little brat rotten and-”

A cracked whine cut Remus of and without thinking he pulled Janus in a hug. They quickly shuffled into Janus’s office and finally took the time to address what had been bothering them. Janus confessed his regret and shame of distrusting Remus and making him work so hard, even though it was his job to take care of him and protecting him. Remus listened and admitted that it had stung at first but he understood Janus’s dedication to his position and thanked him for keeping Logan safe during his absence. He thanked him for being there for him despite not knowing it was him and swore that he was not angry with him at all for doing his job.

And finally, Remus could tell somebody how much it hurt to be so close with all of them without being able to tell them who he was. He told how much it cost him to restrain himself, how much he hated every second of it, how Patton had been the only one to keep him from turning crazy. The longer he talked the more he marvelled over the boy and Janus found himself smiling at his adoration. It was the same passion and love he had seen in Aneas and Rhea’s parenting of the twins and Janus knew that Remus would do well as a father.

Eventually, Janus got reminded of the time and the two got to up for dinner. With sparkling eyes Logan greeted Remus and Patton tackled in a hug. Excitedly he told Remus that he and Daddy had gone to the physician and showed off the glasses he had been given. Remus smiled at every word and just waved at Roman and Virgil when they joined for dinner.

This felt like things had finally fallen into place.

That same evening Patton had convinced Remus that he should be allowed to sleep in ins dads’ bed this evening because it was a very special day. When Remus asked what was so special about today Patton had simply said: “It’s today and it’s only once today, and it’s also the fourth night that I have two dads and it’s very special to me!”

To that Remus had no objections and helped Patton get into his pyjamas and tucked him into their bed after he had gotten ready himself. Animatedly he told Patton a goodnight story and watched as he fell asleep despite his best efforts to stay awake.

A few moments passed and Remus heard the door to the bathroom opening and turned around. There was his Logan, in all his beauty. His long hair was hanging down to his midback for once, the dark blue nightgown falling gently down his sides. He was breathtakingly beautiful.

“You’re beautiful,” Remus whispered.

A smile broad and wobbly spread on Logan’s lips. With happy and big steps, he walked towards his husband and took him by the hands. Squeezed them and twirled the two of them in a circle before he stopped and kissed Remus on the forehead.

This was odd. Amazing but odd. Logan didn’t do sweet and mushy stuff usually.

“What is up, my bug? Just happy to see me?” Remus said with a suggestive lilt in his voice.

Logan snorted, pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. Now Remus was beginning to worry and his found himself cupping Logan’s cheeks and quietly shooing his husband tears away. But Logan smiled and took Remus’s hand and pressed his palm against his lip. He kissed it gently and shook his head with a serene expression.

“I am more than happy, my star. What I am feeling is beyond words and beyond everything I could ever imagine, my love,” Logan said and guided Remus’s hands down to his waist.

Remus held him and looked at him with a worried frown but Logan kept on grinning.

“You brought us home a son. After five years we finally get to be parents. And of such a wonderful boy. Who would dare to wish for more?”

Remus relaxed and said in a breath: “Yeah, who would? It’s unbelievable.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Logan bit his lips. A teary laugh shook him.

“What if we’d be blessed with a second one after trying so long?”

Remus’s mind blanked. His eyes went wide and his hands tightened around Logan’s waist. He opened his mouth but the words escaped him.

To his luck his husband knew exactly what he wanted to ask.

“I had my suspicions when we got our memories back and today finally got to see my gynaecologist when I went to the court physician with Patton. And she said I’m along the 12th to 14th week. And that the baby seems to be okay so far.”

Had Remus been uninjured he would have lifted Logan from the ground and spun him around in circles. Instead, he kissed him. Kissed him deeply and passionately before they broke off with delirious laughs on their lips and pulled each other towards the bed. They sat down and looked to the sleeping Patton thinking about how he would hopefully be excited to be a big brother.

They looked into each other’s’ eyes for a moment, before Logan broke the eye contact and took Remus’s hand. Gently, he laid it on his belly. He wasn’t showing much yet. This was his first child and he didn’t gain too much weight over the last months but there had grown a little round line over the last two weeks and finally he had an answer to as why. A wonderful answer.

Logan watched Remus look at his middle in awe and then look back at him with this look of absolute and utter adoration. Logan could only hope that his own gaze reflected the same.

“You’re wonderful,” Remus whispered.

He leaned forwards and Logan met him in the middle, their foreheads touching lightly.

And Logan answered finally after so many days: “And you’re ridiculously breathtaking, my agent of chaos.”

___

Link for AO3, Taglist, Masterlist, and next Chapters are in my first reblog!  

[imagineaworlds]

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

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Kidnapping, death, torture, panic attack, PTSD-- everything Criminal Minds.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 20,827

Timeline: Season 6 Episode 17 + 18. Three months after part forty-two.

I was… miserable. I felt like this big bubble that was waddling and bumping into everything, and I was entirely useless when it came to cases. Since the Appalachian Trail case, Hotch and I had decided that I would stay out of the field once I started to show; but now that I was bubble-size pregnant, he told me that it was either I stayed in the office with Garcia or I went home and rested in bed. Those were my only two options. There was no getting on the jet with the team, no wandering to the grocery store on a random Sunday, no escaping to get lunch with someone. Nothing. If I didn’t have food in the office, Anderson had to go get it for me. Poor guy.

But, honestly, I wasn’t even fighting Hotch on it anymore. I knew that I wasn’t going to be any help out in the field considering my feet hurt if I was standing for too long. I couldn’t imagine the next three months—at least. JJ and I were talking one day, and she told me to save my strength, because the cliché nine months was more like ten months, if my doctors knew what they were doing. Ugh. I just wanted this part to be over with. I hated feeling stagnant and useless. I liked going out into the field, working on the profiles, chasing the Unsubs, saving the victims. That was my life. And now I had to put that all aside for about another three months or so. It was worth it, though. Every single day that I was miserable was still worth it because it meant that before we would know it, we would have our baby in our arms. I could live with being bored and sick all the time just for that.

Hotch pitied me somewhat, however, and he really sucked at hiding it. He knew that I wanted a child, and he knew that I was excited—just as he was—but he also knew that I was itching to get back to work. Our deal was for my own benefit, but it was probably going to kill me before anything else. I needed the field. So fucking bad. He knew it, Morgan knew it, Emily knew it— Everyone knew it.

So, Hotch and I decided to host a dinner party one Friday night. He liked cooking sometimes, and he hadn’t gotten the chance to do so in a very long time, so I was fine with the idea of having people over, though it was draining at times. I called Emily to see if she wanted to come over for the dinner with Morgan and Rossi, since they were the only ones available on the team. Spencer was headed to some Russian film showing, JJ was busy with Will and the kids, and Garcia had a date.

But when we invited Emily, she was almost hostile towards us. I mean, she never, ever brushed us off; but even then, this was so cold and offensive. I had never heard her like that before. When we called her, I greeted her warmly, but I was met with an inconsiderate: “Hi.” And that was it! As I explained that we were having a family dinner with our friends, she then said: “I really don’t have time for that shit, Y/N. I’ll see you at work.” And then she hung up on me. I scoffed while turning to Aaron, trying to decide if he had any answers or not. He didn’t.

At dinner, I brought it up to see if anyone else knew anything. There had to be a reason that Emily would snap at me like that, right? Come on, she would have never in a million years done that to me—or anyone else on the team. Even if she were busy, she would have been overwhelmingly kind and apologetic about not being able to come to dinner. Something was off.

“She was probably in the middle of something and just forgot to call back to apologize,” Morgan offered behind a mouthful of steak.

I shook my head. That wasn’t it. She specifically said she didn’t have time for my call and for dinner— or really any distraction. There was no hint to her calling back later. There was something else that we were missing, and if we didn’t figure it out soon, I was genuinely going to confront her about it. The thing with Emily Prentiss, however, was that she enjoyed her secrets, and she enjoyed playing her cards close to her chest. Prying hardly ever worked with her, but maybe if I tried just this one, and if it was really all that bad, she’d confide in me. I mean, back after New York when I was upset about JJ and Morgan doubting me and Hotch, Emily was the only person I could confide in, too. Maybe this one time I could be that for her.

“She has her bad days, too, Y/N; you can’t take it personally,” Rossi said.

But I was taking it personally. They hadn’t heard her voice, the way it was gruff, demanding, and angry. Yeah, it sounded like her mind was elsewhere, but that gave her no right to talk to me, her friend, like that. We weren’t the closest. I would be the first to admit that Emily Prentiss and I weren’t exactly sisters forever, but I still loved her dearly, and she loved me equally. We looked after each other. And ever since Hawai’i, when the team found out that I was pregnant, she was over the moon excited to meet my child. She couldn’t stop talking about it. All this time, I thought that Morgan and Garcia were going to be the aunt and uncle who would spoil them a ridiculous amount, but now I was starting to worry that it was actually going to be Emily doing all of the spoiling. That was concerning. But I still loved it. I loved that she was as excited as Hotch, Morgan, and I were. I was excited that I would get to see her, my friend, holding my baby.

“Give it a few days, baby,” Hotch said before downing a spoonful of mashed potatoes. “If she hasn’t cheered up by then, you could talk to her—or, if you want, I’ll talk to her, and make it seem like it’s in an official capacity so that she doesn’t feel attacked.”

I rolled my eyes. That wasn’t going to solve anything. She wasn’t snapping at Hotch, she was snapping at me. The more we discussed it, the more upset I got. I eventually pushed my plateful of food away from me and set my hands over my stomach as I reclined back. The boys didn’t notice how I had fallen silent as they finished up their meals, then Rossi offered to clean up the dishes while Hotch and Morgan worked together to plate up the brownies Hotch made that afternoon with some ice cream. Then, throughout dessert, they talked about sports. I shook my head and took my leave early to go lay down before it got too late.

----

In the morning, mine and Hotch’s alarms went off simultaneously. I groaned and rolled over to turn it off. As I struggled to push myself upright, I saw that Hotch was already awake and dressed, taking a few steps back over to his bedside table in order to turn off his alarm. Somewhat forgetting about what happened yesterday, I smiled at him. He smiled back shortly.

As I slid out from under the covers, Hotch hurried over to hold his arms out to make sure I wouldn’t fall over or hurt myself or something. I laughed at him while playfully shooing his hands away, then leaning up and in to kiss him delicately. He kissed me back until we couldn’t breathe.

“Good morning, Agent Hotchner,” I whispered against his lips.

He tangled his fingers in my already messy hair. “Good morning, Agent Hotchner.” He kissed my jawline until I threw my head back to give him clearer access to my neck. It wasn’t a sexual act. I mean, normally it was, and it had a tendency to get us both riled up; but the way he was only barely leaving kissed against me compared to nibbling until he left a noticeable hickey was enough to just let me relax and fall in love with him again and again. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Kinda.”

“Good…” He ran his hands over my arms until my shoulders relaxed, then he hugged me so that he could rub my back until my spine relaxed, and then he lastly trailed back to my stomach until my whole body felt at ease, and the only thought I had was about how much I loved him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

After another minute or so, Hotch pulled away from me entirely so that he could kiss my lips one more time before heading back into the bathroom to gel back his hair. Feeling practically rejuvenated for the day, I wandered—or more like waddled—my way to our closet so that I could pick out my clothes. A whole new wardrobe was laid out in front of me. Some clothes, like the sweatshirt Elle bought for me years ago, were already so oversized that I could still fit into them. Everything else, however, had to be packed away in boxes for the time being in order to make room for my maternity clothes. I sighed. I missed my old work clothes. I missed hiding in Hotch’s college shirts. I missed debating what outfit looked professional enough for the office, but was also logistically smart if we had to go into the field with a snap of our fingers. Now, it was just a matter of what was comfortable.

Since Hotch pulled me out of the field a few months ago, the Bureau had officially benched me, too, because I was too much of a liability to be out and about, working on cases. I just wasn’t physically fit to go out chasing bad guys. So, six months pregnant me had to stay behind with Penelope Garcia in her lair of all things Smart. If I showed up in her office with even a single hint of black, she kicked me out until I went to go find something with color on it. She hated blandness. She hated that I liked blandness—especially right now since I just couldn’t fucking fit into anything else. But she was adamant about keeping her office a bright and lively place, so there was one weekend where she dragged me out to the mall to help me find more “Penelope-looking clothes”. However, the purpose of that day spiraled fairly fast. I had gone there for some clothes, meanwhile Garcia had gotten sidetracked and started buying every toy imaginable for the baby.

While I squinted a judgement at her in the checkout line, she got all defensive and said, “You and Hotch are just going to be too busy once my godchild pops out, you won’t have any time to go looking for toys. So, really, I’m doing you all a favor.”

No one had told her that we hadn’t decided on godparents yet. Honestly, I just didn’t know how, and I think Hotch was genuinely terrified of breaking that news to her. So, we decided to keep it on the downlow.

I grabbed the first thing I found in my closet, brought it back out to the bedroom, threw it on the bed, then started changing. Hotch came out of the bathroom to grab his gun from the safe in his bedside table. We had been working on baby proofing the house over the past couple of days. I mean, we always had safes in our drawers for our guns because we still had Jack, a six year old kid, running around. But now we had an extra lock on our bedroom door, we had those stupid plastic gates everywhere to make sure that the baby couldn’t go falling down the steps or something once they started crawling, and we put shitty child locks on the drawers. I really fucking hated it. It felt like we were turning our house into a baby prison. But Hotch insisted that it was the best thing to do, and it was inevitably going to keep the baby safe, so what did I know. At this point, my job was just to sit back and relax while Hotch panicked about everything because I simply did not have the time and energy to be as worried as he was. If it were up to me, I would have just put the crib in our room and called it a day. At least, until they were old enough to move into the nursery.

Still, I didn’t think all of these extra precautions were necessary when the plan was that I would be staying at home for at least three months after the baby was born—way longer than JJ stayed out of the office. Once I was back at work, Jessica offered to spend more time around the house since her job allowed her to do so; but we didn’t think that was necessarily fair to dump on her, so we were debating on whether or not to get a nanny. But that was so far in the future. The point was, our child was going to be watched like a hawk at all times. There wouldn’t be a single chance for anything bad to happen. However, I understood that Hotch was just trying to do what he did best, and that was protecting us. If he felt it was necessary—or even if it just put his mind at ease in a placebo-effect kind of way, I was willing to let him turn our house into a baby prison for the next few years.

Oh, gosh… The next few years…

“Baby,” Hotch spoke louder, like he had been trying to catch my attention before. I snapped out of my train of thought to look at him. “You okay?” he asked, furrowing his brows. I nodded. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I was just lost in thought.”

I moved faster to get dressed. When I was done, I grabbed my gun from my drawer, too, holstering it on my hip, then I went to the bathroom to do my hair, wash my face, and brush my teeth. By the time I was gone, Hotch had woken Jack up and gotten him half-way ready for school. All Jack did these days was wake up, change into new clothes—which Hotch practically had to force him to do—and, if we were lucky, he would brush his hair. The rest of it was just shrugging off our questions. I was starting to worry that it was him acting out because we were a little focused on the baby, when Jack was normally used to getting all of our attention. We knew that this was possible. Older kids who could comprehend that they weren’t going to be an only child now had a tendency to act out like this because they felt like their parents were neglecting them. But I would never do that to Jack. I was trying my damn hardest to spend time with him and make sure he knew that he was still loved and that having a baby brother or sister wasn’t going to change that. He didn’t seem to believe me, though.

“Hey, bud, come on—” Hotch pleaded down the hall. He groaned in annoyance. “Jack. Please. Work with me here.” I heard him slap his hands against his sides like he had thrown his arms up in surrender, then was choosing to walk away from the conversation while worked up and frustrated. I snuck into the hall to see Hotch storming out of Jack’s room. He looked at me as he headed for the stairs. “You can try.” He started stomping downstairs.

I cocked a brow and slowly tiptoed down to Jack’s room, peeking in to see him dressed, but he was cuddled up with Red, our favorite toy dinosaur, on his bed. He was turned towards the wall so that I couldn’t see his face, but I could still tell by his body language that he was sad… He was trying to make it seem like he was mad about something, but he was just… sad…

“Jack?” I cooed, stepping into his room.

“Go away.”

I stopped. “Do you really want me to?”

Sincerely, if he wanted me to go away, I would have. I knew that this was all hard for him, and I knew that letting him feel his emotions was valid—and teaching him that was important. I wouldn’t always leave him alone like that, but sometimes it was better not to pry. If I were really the problem, and if he really wanted me to leave, it would have done more harm than good if I had stayed.

“No,” he whispered regretfully.

I continued approaching him, making my way to the bed until I was sitting on the edge. “What’s going on, little man?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s not true. What happened with Dad?”

“I told him that I didn’t want to go to school, and he got mad.”

“Why don’t you want to go to school?” I asked. Jack didn’t respond. “Huh?” I egged him on while brushing his hair back with my fingers. “Do you want a hug first?”

He nodded, and within an instant, he spun around and sat up, catching my neck in a tight embrace. I wrapped my arms around his torso and held him close. “I just don’t want to go today,” he cried into my shoulder. “Just one day.” He squeezed me tighter until his little arms were straining. “Why did he have to get mad?”

“Because he just wants what’s best for you, bud. He knows that school is good for you. All your friends, your teachers you love, art class, which you love, too. Don’t you want to see Mr. Feechi and show him your cool, new drawing?”

Jack nodded against me.

“Yeah. See? He knows you love it. So, I think he just got confused as to why you don’t want to go. I’m confused why you don’t want to go. Sometimes it’s just hard for him to sit down and talk with people when he gets stressed about a whole bunch of things at once.” I petted his hair and kissed his cheek. “But he still loves you. And I’m sorry he yelled at you. I’ll talk to him about it. But do you want to talk to me about school? About what’s really bothering you?”

“I don’t know… I don’t know why…”

“That’s okay. But it’s not a good enough reason to not go to school.” It was valid if he was sick, or if he needed a mental health day, even. But not going just because he didn’t want to, and not going because he didn’t know why… That wasn’t enough to keep him at home, which would keep me at home, too. “I’m sorry, little man.”

He sniffled and pulled away from me. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll always love me, right?”

I pouted and let out a choked sob as I tried to smile and stay positive for him. How could he ask me something like that? There was nothing he could ever say or do that would make me stop loving him, and there was no way Hotch would ever let me stop loving him in the first place. I loved Jack like he was my own. No. He was my own. He was my son, and he always would be. For the last three years, I got the gift of watching him grow, and his birth parents were kind enough to let me help raise him, too. I’d be forever grateful for that. Since I met Jack all those years ago, he had been my little man. No matter how big he got, he would always be my little man, and that was just a fact and a part of loving him as fervently as I did. He was my son… He was one of the loves of my life.

“Jack,” I brushed his hair back, “I will never, ever stop loving you.” I poked Red’s side. “You and Red are the brightest parts of my day. Whenever I’m scared while off working with Dad, I think about you and Red, and I think about how much I love you, and I know that I’ll be okay. If I ever stopped loving you, I wouldn’t feel okay and safe anymore.”

He moved to hug me again, this time with enough force that sent me back somewhat, making me giggle while catching him. “I love you, too,” he whispered.

After staying like that for a few moments longer, I patted his side and lifted him up onto his feet on the floor so that he could grab his things for school before making our way downstairs. Jack scurried over to his desk without a word. He started shoving everything he needed into the biggest pocket, not at all concerned with organization. How he was mine and Hotch’s kid, I’d never understand. But it certainly brought a smile to my face.

Once we dropped Jack off at school, I fiddled with my fingers as we pulled out of the parking lot in order to head to work. I was beginning to wonder if I made a mistake sending him to school today. Maybe he really just needed the one day. No. One day would turn into two days, and then three, and so on. I couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t’ve been fair to him or me.

“You can’t yell at him like that, Aaron,” I said. He nodded. “You’re going to have to apologize to him tonight.” He nodded again.

Funnily enough, he was never this quiet around me. Usually, Hotch was a very reserved person who didn’t like talking to people unless he had to—and he definitely never opened up to anyone. But I was the exception. He could always talk to me, and he always made sure to be open with me. Therefore, I knew something was off.

I grabbed his right hand from the steering wheel, brought it to my lips, and gently kissed his knuckles. “Baby…” He hummed a questioning tone back to me in response. “What’s going on?”

He sighed as the car slowed at a red light. “I’m worried about Emily, too. I just didn’t know how to tell anyone because it’s my job to worry about you guys, and it’s my responsibility to keep things professional and not pry too far into people’s—”

“Hotch,” I stopped him before he could keep rambling, “it’s okay to be worried about your friend. I’ll talk to her today to figure this all out once and for all.” I kissed his knuckles again. “She’s probably okay.” I turned his hand over and kissed his palm. “I love you.”

He curled his fingers until he was holding my chin. He squeezed as we both smiled. “I love you, too.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“You’re silly sometimes,” he teased.

“Only for you, my love.” I kissed his palm roughly before releasing him and turning back to watch the world pass by as we kept driving.

----

When we arrived on the sixth floor of the Quantico building, I meandered over to my desk in the bullpen, slumping and sighing as I did so. There was a picture of Jack sitting prominently on my desk, one that I had kept there since I moved in with him and Aaron a couple years ago, and I updated the photo every so often whenever it would become outdated. Jack was growing so fast. A few months ago, even, he would have never asked me a question like he brought forward that morning. He used to know that I would love him endlessly and unconditionally. Where did I go wrong? This had to be about the baby, right? I mean, he was probably getting worried that Hotch and I might love him less or something like that because we were going to have a baby—and maybe he was old enough now to assume that I would just love our baby more because they would be my own flesh and blood. But that wasn’t true.

Morgan cocked a brow at me from his desk. “Peanut, you okay?”

I nodded and leaned forward to put my computer passcode in. As the system started up, I saw the picture of me, Jack, Hotch, and Jessica together at the park the day Hotch proposed to me. The night before, we promised Jack that we would go on a bike ride together. So, after Hotch proposed to me just after we woke up, and… other things happened… we got up, showered, called Jessica to ask if she wanted to come with us, and the four of us made our way to the park where we biked around for about an hour or so before Jack decided he wanted to play soccer with Hotch. Around lunch time, as Hotch fell onto his back on the grass, and Jack landed on top of him, both of them laughing, I told Jessica what happened. She immediately brightened. She got all giddy and said, “Finally!” before throwing her arms around me. Then, she insisted that we take a family photo. She waved down a random jogger and practically shoved her phone into his hands while she called for Hotch and Jack to come over. We posed, but it was still chaotic. Jack was jumping on his dad for a piggyback ride, and I was trying my best to make sure that neither of them got hurt in the process. It was cute. We were all smiling—laughing, in fact—and it was absolutely genuine. There was nothing forced about the love we all shared for each other. There was nothing fake. I didn’t hate Jack. That photo was a reminder to myself that no matter what he thought of me, or no matter how much he could grow to hate me for one reason or another, I would never stop loving him. As I promised.

“What’s wrong?” Morgan continued to pry.

“Nothing.”

“Mhm. Sure. Try again.”

I rolled my eyes at him since I knew that this meant that he wasn’t going to let it go now. “Jack was having a bad morning, and he asked me if I’ll always love him. It’s just thrown my whole day off balance.”

“I’m about to make it even worse,” JJ said while passing our desks with a stack of case files in her arms.

The entire bullpen—excluding Emily, who seemed to be running late—groaned as we pushed ourselves to our feet and started meandering over to the roundtable room. After last night, I was expecting to talk to Emily before this would happen. I wanted… I wanted to just sort out if I was the problem or not. If I was, I wanted to know how I could mend things between us; and if it wasn’t about me, then what was it about, and how could I help? But, no. She wasn’t there, which was also incredibly unlike her. All of us happened to be late at one point or another. It was inevitable. However, there wasn’t a single day where Emily Prentiss showed up late or called in sick. No matter what was going on in her life, she was always there. Always. So, I was starting to grow even more concerned about her, which I’m sure everyone noticed as we sat down, because I could feel the color draining from my face as I took the seat facing both doors and the windows, just so that I could see her whenever she would come in.

In the meantime, JJ started circling the table while handing out the case files to each of us. When she arrived in front of the monitor once more, she began explaining the case as we knew all of the details to be, while simultaneously clicking the remote in her hand to show the slideshow that had photos from the crime scene—or, in this case, crime scenes.

Late last night, while everyone in D.C. was asleep, two homes were set on fire, killing the families inside. The only connection was the time. The fires took place within the same hour, but that was all. The homes were nowhere near each other—in fact, they were on complete opposite sides of the city. The oddest part, as Morgan noted, was that no one was reporting on this story, which was concerning considering the news ate up and spit out family tragedies like these all the time as if it were fun for them. Two identical fires in one night should have been like chumming the water for them. But nope. That was what caught JJ’s attention in the first place.

First, a couple and their son were found dead in the master bedroom of their home, all three shot through the forehead by the gun that happened to belong to the father. But, then, how did the fire start? Why did the fire start? If it was a murder/suicide, the odds that a house fire would catch shortly after was, at the very least, odd.

Then, the second couple all the way across town, were found dead in their living room after the house exploded due to a suspected gas leak. Still odd. Gas leaks purposefully smell like rotten eggs. If the family was up and doing something with fire—likely cooking—then how did the gas leak go unnoticed? Why didn’t an alarm go off? The report from the fire department in front of me indicated that there was a burglary, fire, and gas alarm in the house. They would have been notified before they could even smell the rotten eggs.

“What are the connections?” I inquired after falling short of noticing one in the files.

JJ shrugged. “There’s only one, and it’s… Well, it’s loose.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that the only connection between the families comes from the mothers—”

Just then, Emily came running into the boardroom in a rush. Her head was down, but I could see how frazzled she was. She started setting her things down frantically before pausing when she noticed how we were all watching her. “Sorry I’m late,” she apologized while taking her seat.

“Are you okay?” Hotch interrogated.

She shrugged, entirely disregarding his worry. “Yeah. JJ, as you were.”

What the fuck? That wasn’t like her at all. First, she didn’t tease us as she came into the room; then, when asked if everything was alright considering she was late for the first time since joining the team; and then she was formal with JJ. What happened to the Emily Prentiss who cuddled with Jennifer Jareau on the bed at my bachelorette party? What happened to the Emily Prentiss who would try to hide what was really going on with her by teasing me or Morgan—or even Spencer, someone she saw as her little brother. It was all so strange. Her behavior was only making me worry more, and now I could see it on Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi’s faces. Hotch clasped our hands together under the table. That was how bad it was. We had never, ever touched during a roundtable meeting.

“Um…” JJ hesitated, eyeing Emily carefully just like the rest of us. “We were discussing the two crime scenes—”

“I’ll get caught up later. Just keep going.”

JJ scoffed. “Okay.” She rolled her eyes and turned back to the screen. “The only connection comes from the mothers, both of whom were born and raised in Europe.”

“That’s the only connection?” Hotch questioned warily. “That’s not much.”

“It’s all there is.”

Hotch sighed. “Okay… Rossi and Reid, you’ll take the first house. Morgan and Prentiss, head to the second. The rest of us will stay here and start looking through the files again and the families’ histories to see if we can find any other connection. There has to be something.” He released my hand, picked up his things from the table, stood, then quickly and quietly left the room.

Everyone started following his lead. Garcia and JJ immediately scurried off to Garcia’s office. Rossi and Reid turned for the back door that led to the ramp next to the break room, while Morgan and Emily moved for the front door that led to the bullpen. Before she could escape, however, I stepped just in front of her path, and threw my hands up in surrender so that she couldn’t get mad at me. She sighed and rolled her eyes. Wow. Was I really that bad? Whatever it was that was clearly going on in her life, was it really so bad that she had to take it out on me, the one person who had enough love for her to straight up confront her about what was going on instead of hiding like Hotch and Rossi were in their offices.

“Em, what’s going on with you?” I questioned sincerely. She didn’t say or do anything. “Can we talk somewhere privately?”

“I’m busy. Maybe later.” She pushed past me, barely brushing my shoulder like she still had enough decency to not actually harm me.

Fucking ridiculous. This was all so out of character for her, and she wasn’t letting anyone in to help her. Honestly, it was beginning to get on my nerves. Whenever I was in her shoes, something was going wrong in my life and I was bottling it up and taking out my frustrations on everyone else, Emily was the one person who could knock some sense into me. At least, that was what she had done after JJ pissed me off in New York. She looked me in the eye and said, “Screw them, Y/N. You don’t need anyone’s opinion but your own and Hotch’s.” Where was that Emily? That was the very same Prentiss that I knew and loved, and was going to be— No. That thought was for another time.

Garcia and JJ came back in, this time carrying laptops and stacks of files almost as tall as them. I hated desk duty. Absolutely fucking despised it. Hotch knew that I didn’t like being benched, he knew that it was hard for me to just sit around and do nothing while the team was out there getting a good look at the crime scenes and risking their lives. I should have been out there with them. I should have been by Morgan’s side, ready to jump in front of him if I had to; or I should have been with Emily so that I could get a read on what was really wrong with her. Honestly, at that point, I was even willing to go with Rossi and Reid, the two people on the team I hardly worked with. But, no. I had to be holed up all day in the office, and it was draining.

I had to grin and bear it, however, by taking a stack of files for myself and start flipping through all of them. Normally, I would be out there in the field, giving Reid a chance to stay back to read a mile a minute. I wished that were the case still. Between the three of us, it was going to take until at least lunch time to get through all of this information. Reid would have finished all of them on his own in, like, ten minutes— maximum.

Everything about the two families involved with these incidents were just as the cops and JJ described: Ordinary. They were all healthy, fit, and happy. There was no financial stress. No therapy bills or doctors visits outside of yearly physical checkups. Even their schedules were ordinary. Both parents went to work while the children went to school. However, the children went to different schools—one private and one public—and one was succeeding while the other was practically failing.

Their lives were as perfect as could be, which was in fact the one thing that was most suspicious.

“Hold on…” Garcia mumbled under her breath as she started typing on her loud keyboard faster. “Woah, woah, woah.”

“What is it?” I asked.

She pushed her seat back, grabbed her chair, then started speed walking out of the room. JJ and I shared a curious look. After a moment, I decided to chase after her. She was headed straight towards Hotch’s office, but he was actually coming out in order to meet us in the boardroom to see if we had come up with anything.

“So, something happened,” Garcia began as we approached Hotch on the balcony. He kept walking, so we followed. “No one’s talking about this. Still. Except for one guy who I caught attempting to post the article, but then it was pulled almost immediately—not before I could catch it, though.” She sounded so proud of herself.

“What do you want from me, Garcia?” he asked.

“With your permission, sir, I would like to track him down to see why it was that he pulled the article as soon as he posted it. Something’s fishy about all of this. Someone should have reported on this by now. Actually, there should have been a whole media blow up—pardon the pun—by now. I think he might know something about why there’s been complete radio silence on this.”

“Do it.”

“I’ll go to help you question him,” I offered. Garcia was tech savvy and extremely snippy and sassy, but she didn’t know how to profile. She could give us our in with this guy, but I could actually get information out of him. Garcia seemed to agree. She nodded and looked to Hotch hopefully, as did I.

“You can track him down and question him yourself, Garcia,” he said, half paying attention as he unpacked his papers to set them out on the table.

“Hotch—” I tried arguing. “That’s not fair—”

“Here and the house. Remember? That was the deal. It could be just the house, if you’re not careful.”

The whole room fell silent. Tension hung in the air as Hotch and I stared each other down. Just a few months ago, I promised Hotch that when the time would come, I would pull myself out of the field, and I wouldn’t throw a fit about it. I did that. But it wouldn’t hurt to drive down to the local newspaper to ask a journalist a few questions. This was a little too much. The deal was that I could go to the office, as long as I didn’t go into the field. Staying in town wasn’t “going into the field”. He had to budge on this. Right?

“No,” he finally said sternly.

I sighed and sat down, keeping my eyes away from him as everyone cautiously started moving back towards conversing about the case. That was incredibly embarrassing. For years, Hotch and I didn’t show affection at work, we didn’t argue like an old married couple, and we certainly didn’t bring up our deals or agreements in front of everyone. We didn’t discuss the fact that we made rules to not touch in front of people, or say “I love you” when the others were around. We didn’t talk about how we promised to never lie to each other. And we certainly didn’t talk about how we made a deal that I would only stay at the house or at the office. No one knew that. Since that day at the Park Rangers’ office, that had been our secret deal, and I wanted it to fucking stay that way; yet Hotch had the audacity to bring it up in front of the entire team. Not only was I frustrated about the situation he had stuck me in, but I was also frustrated with my husband now.

“I, um,” Morgan cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I think I might have something here.” He handed the file he had been looking through over to Hotch. “Both of the mothers coached their sons’ soccer teams out on the Hill. They probably met that way.”

Reid shuffled from Gideon’s couch in the corner to the table we were all sitting around. “I found another connection, too. It’s in their phone records. Both moms, who happened to be from Europe and coached their sons’ soccer teams on the Hill, as Morgan mentioned, called the same number multiple times.”

“Give it to me,” Garcia said. After Reid read the phone number aloud, Garcia started digging through the identity of whoever it was that owned that number. “Byron Delaney—He’s British.” She stopped typing immediately.

Hotch looked at Morgan. “Go.”

Morgan got up and raced to the bullpen to tell Emily where they were headed and who it was they were visiting. Within the next minute or so, Hotch’s phone started ringing, causing him to sigh under his breath, collect his things again, and leave to take the call out in his office. The rest of us settled in our seats and started looking for a way to contact that reporter Garcia had talked about. I even decided to spend some time reaching out to newspapers as an “anonymous source” looking to give them an inside scoop on the story just to see if anyone would bite. Nothing. Everyone got back to me in the next thirty minutes or so just to tell me that the story wasn’t interesting enough for them to pursue. That was utter bullshit. Something was seriously wrong with this case, and the only one who could give us any answers was the reporter Garcia was hunting down.

“Where are Hotch and Rossi going?” JJ asked, looking through the windows of the roundtable room to see the two of them hauling ass out of the office.

We all shrugged.

Two minutes later, Hotch was calling Garcia to let her know what was going on. “Emily and Morgan were shot at by the Unsubs.”

“What?!” I exclaimed. How could he not tell us that immediately? “Are they alright?”

“They’re fine. They found Byron’s body. Dave and I are headed there now to case the scene with them. We’ll call with what we know later.” He hung up before I could argue with him, which he knew I would.

The worry was starting to fuck with my head and my body. A headache was brewing, meanwhile my stomach was starting to ache to the point I felt like I was going to throw up. At first, I tried ignoring it. I closed my eyes to stop the headache and to focus on my breathing, but that didn’t work. So, I tried rocking back and forth gently. However, it only seemed to get worse the longer we sat there in silence, worrying about Morgan and Emily.

“Fuck…” I cursed under my breath. “Not now, baby… Come on, just give me a few more hours.”

“Y/N?” Reid questioned me from across the table. I glanced up at him through my lashes to see that he was watching me hold my stomach, rocking back and forth lightly, trying to control my breathing. “What is it?”

“The baby’s just kicking. That’s all.”

He narrowed his eyes at me and closed the file in front of him. “You look like you’re in pain.”

I searched his eyes. There was no way in hell he was going to give this up, but if I told him the truth, he would tell Hotch, and then that would just cause more problems than was necessary. “I’m fine.” I saw that Garcia was also eyeing me suspiciously now. “Please, just don’t tell Hotch. I swear, it’s nothing. I’m just not feeling well.”

“We’re supposed to tell Hotch if anything—”

“No. Please.”

Garcia was slowly tapping on her keyboard, trying not to draw my attention. Her sloth-like pace was exactly what caught my eye, though. “Sorry…” she apologized quietly. “I had to.”

I sighed and threw my papers on the table. “I’ll get my things.”

“Why?” Reid asked.

“Hotch’s gonna make me go home.” I stood. “Fuck—” I grabbed onto the table for balance. “Shit…” My stomach ached like I was being stabbed. I let out a shaky breath. “Okay, fine… Someone get Anderson to drive me home.”

Reid stood and raced out of the boardroom to go find Anderson while I slowly made my way down to my desk to get my things. I collected my purse and threw my phone and badge in it. Within the next minute or so, Anderson approached, letting me know that Reid had tracked him down to take me home. I thanked him quickly. The stomach aches had passed, but I knew that they would inevitably return. If I was heading home, I wasn’t coming back. At least not today.

On our way out, I beckoned Garcia over quickly to tell her that even though I was going home, I wanted constant updates, and if there were any new developments, I wanted her to video call me with everything. She agreed. While she was practically pushing me towards the elevator, she said that she would put me on calls with the team, send me texts with small details, video call me for dozens of other things. Since I was going home because they let up the game to Hotch, it was the least they could do.

In the car, Anderson played the radio and we talked about his girlfriend. Her name was Angelica. They met shortly after the Fisher King case when he began attending group therapy to help him cope with the guilt he felt for what happened to Elle. I interrupted to tell him that none of it was his fault. While he sent me a short smile and thanked me for the personal reassurance, I could tell that he still wasn’t convinced; but it didn’t matter. Talking about Angelica made his whole face brighten. He was grinning ear to ear, his eyes sparkling in the sun as he focused on the road, and he was tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the beat of the music. I smiled to myself. It was so odd that I had been working with people like him—people in the broader spectrum of the BAU—for years, and yet I hardly knew anything about them. Sometimes I would consider Anderson a friend, but it was just… It was different being friends with him compared to being friends with Morgan and Emily. I knew practically everything about Morgan, and I knew as much as Emily was willing to tell me, but I didn’t know much about Anderson. It felt wrong. Somehow, it irked me that I could be working in the same office as him for so long, and yet I never stopped to ask him how his day was going, or if he was seeing anyone, or if he was okay since everything happened with Elle.

“Do you ever wish you could see her again?” Anderson inquired. I didn’t understand what he was asking. “Elle.”

Oh. I couldn’t tell him that I had seen her somewhat recently, or that I didn’t care if I saw her again or not, as shitty as it sounded. Since she first left, all I wanted was to see her again and get answers from her. Only, when I did see her again, she felt like an entirely different person, and I didn’t get a single real answer out of her. So, no. I didn’t wish that I could ever see her again, but Anderson didn’t need to know that.

“Sometimes,” I answered, then I turned to stare out the window silently.

By the time he dropped me off at my house, my phone was ringing with a FaceTime from Garcia. Anderson was already driving around the corner down the block when I answered while simultaneously digging out my house keys. As I unlocked the door, I saw Penelope’s face on the screen.

“What do you have for me, lovely?” I asked.

“We have a name—a potential suspect,” Garcia said.

“What does that mean?”

“His name’s Ian Doyle, and we think that he might be operating on a list of people who took him down seven years ago.”

“Why?”

“Because all but three of the people on that list are dead.”

I stopped in my tracks as I entered the house. “Who are the other three?”

“We don’t know. The CIA and Interpol are giving Hotch a hard time confirming identities. They only just told us that our victims matched the team of profilers that had taken Doyle down. I don’t know when we’ll get the name of the other three agents.”

“Hotch will get the names. I know he will.” I set my things down and wandered to get a TUMS and Motrin for my stomach and headache. “Call me when you know more.”

“Of course, my love. Get some sleep. You look pale.” She kissed the pads of her index and middle fingers, then pressed them to her camera before hanging up on me.

I set my phone down on the counter so that I could pour out one pill from the TUMS bottle and the Motrin bottle. When I had them resting in my palm, I turned to grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water. When I was finished with the Motrin, I carried the water and my phone with me upstairs as I began chewing on the big TUMS pill that was slowly dissolving in my mouth. By the time I landed in bed, the pill was gone, and I was already falling asleep. Just a few minutes. I would wake up soon...

----

As my eyes fluttered open, I could see that the sun was setting over the houses in the neighborhood. I jolted upright and checked the time. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I slept for three hours. Fuck. I reached to grab my phone to see that there were no calls or texts from anyone on the team. I didn’t understand. I had been MIA for three hours. How had Garcia not checked up on me? How did Hotch not call to see if I was feeling alright? What the fuck was he really going on? I tried calling Hotch, but it went to voicemail. My face fell.

That was when I heard something clatter in the dining room. I jumped in my own skin, the sound echoing throughout the house sending me back to that day when I was taken in Hawai’i. Hotch wasn’t picking up the phone, and now it sounded like someone was in the house. Maybe it was just Hotch? Maybe he picked up Jack from soccer early, and they were downstairs setting up dinner? Yeah. Maybe. I could only know for sure by making my way downstairs slowly, holding onto the railing to make sure I didn’t lose my footing. My heat was still hurting, but the baby had calmed down, so my stomach wasn’t aching and cramping anymore. Thankfully.

I stumbled to a halt when I saw Jessica and Jack sitting at the dining room table, eating spaghetti and garlic bread. She had a glass of water and wine, meanwhile Jack was chugging down a large glass of chocolate milk that he ended up refilling with the jug next to him once he was out. I smiled. Chocolate milk was his “thing” right now. For the longest time, it was mac and cheese—and, of course, he would never pass up the chance to have a bowl of it, but it was “chocolate milk this” and “chocolate milk that” nowadays. Eventually, Hotch and I were going to have to trick him out of it. If it became an unhealthy obsession, I’d find one way or another to get him to start drinking iced tea or something like his dad.

Jessica looked up to see me standing in the doorway. “Hey! You’re up.” I smiled and nodded. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah…” I searched the table with my eyes, trying to piece together how long she had been with Jack. “How did you…” I chuckled to myself.

“Aaron called to tell me you weren’t feeling well, so I came over to watch Jack.” She picked up her glass of wine. “I would’ve warned you, but I saw that you were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“It’s all good.” I walked over to the table before kissing the top of Jack’s head. “How was school, little man?”

“Boring,” he answered behind a full mouth of spaghetti noodles.

At least it wasn’t bad, and at least he wasn’t sending any signal that he didn’t want to go back tomorrow. If he would have still been as upset as he was that morning, I would have considered letting him stay home tomorrow. Tomorrow… I realized that I didn’t even know where I would be tomorrow given the fact that I had already missed so much of the case. I was feeling a thousand times better already, but Hotch probably wasn’t going to accept that, and I really wasn’t looking to pick a fight with him about it again, and I wasn’t willing to hear Morgan, Rossi, or Emily take his side on the matter.

“Did you show Mr. Feechi your art?”

“I forgot.”

I chuckled and kissed the top of his head again. Forgetting to show his art to his teacher probably meant that he was caught up in a million other things like schoolwork or friends, and either option was ideal to me, so I was content with that answer, truth be told. At least he looked and sounded better now. Compared to this morning, he was acting like my little man again as I knew him, the slurping spaghetti noodles really bringing the whole thing together. I smiled to myself.

“I’m gonna check in with the team,” I said to Jessica. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

She shrugged and nodded understandingly. “Take your time.”

As I headed back upstairs to the bedroom, I sighed and wiped my palms over my face in an attempt to wake myself up. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep earlier. Considering I gave Garcia so much shit earlier for snitching on me, and I begged her to stay in touch because of it, the least I could have done was stay awake in order to receive her calls. Then again, I was feeling much better now that I was well rested. Give and take, I suppose.

I grabbed my phone from my bedside table and dialed Garcia’s number. The call rang a worrisome amount of times before going to voicemail. That was unusual… I cocked a brow at my phone as I dialed Hotch’s number this time around. Garcia normally picked up because she was sitting at her desk—or at least she had one of her many phones on her to alert her that someone was calling. Why hadn’t she answered?

And then I heard Hotch pick up. I let out a relieved sigh and let my palm rest over my stomach. “Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he responded, sounding a little out of breath and extremely preoccupied.

“Is everything okay? Garcia didn’t—”

“We’re fine, baby. We’re just about to give the profile, so we’re all running around right now. Can I call you back later when we’re done?”

I hesitated. “Yeah…” I looked over my shoulder to glance at his side of the bed which was uncomfortably empty. “Are you coming home tonight?”

“Probably not.”

“Oh…”

Hotch stopped and sighed heavily. “I’m so sorry, baby. I know that this isn’t what you want. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just be safe. Call me after the profile and catch me up.”

“I will. I love you, Y/N.”

I smiled against my phone. “I love you, too.”

He hung up on me before anything else could be said.

----

Jack tried staying up with me as long as he could. After Jessica had left for the night, the two of us crashed on the couch to watch a movie, but he ended up spending more time focusing on my stomach than anything else. He found it fascinating. I mean, he was a kid, so he didn’t necessarily understand what was happening, but he knew that his baby brother or sister was in there. When I told him that the baby was kicking, Jack started freaking out. He thought I was dying. I laughed at him and told him that it was alright while placing his hand over my stomach so that he could feel it. “Ew,” was his response as he snatched his hand away. I chuckled again and explained that it was natural. “I still hate it,” he said, scurrying to the other side of the couch. At least his fascination with poking my stomach was gone now.

By the time the movie reached the credits, Jack was asleep and snoring. We had been waiting to see if Hotch would show up or call, but there was no word. So, I leaned over, and I combed Jack’s hair with my fingers while kissing his temple until he slowly stirred awake. I whispered that it was time to go to bed. Since I couldn’t carry him, tired, little Jack had to roll off the couch, then lazily stomp across the house in front of me as we ever so slowly made our way upstairs one step at a time. Jack crashed onto his bed and fell back to sleep immediately.

I smiled and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Night, my little man.”

“Night…” he whispered, then rolled over to face the wall.

As I left his room, I closed the door quietly behind me to make sure that there weren’t any creaks, and that the sound of the doorknob wouldn’t wake him up. When the coast was clear, I let out a deep breath. That was when my phone started ringing. I jumped slightly at the sudden noise that shook the house, and probably woke Jack up.

I cursed under my breath while hurrying down to mine and Hotch’s room while answering the phone. The call was from Hotch. Finally. “Hey, babe.”

“Hey,” he responded with a hint of worry.

I froze and cocked a brow. What was wrong? Something was definitely fucking wrong, and he couldn’t lie his way out of it in order to make sure I wouldn’t come back in. Whatever it was, if it was bad enough, I would go back in. So, help me, if he wasn’t okay, I was going to race there, honking the horn at every goddamn car in my way.

“What is it?”

“Have you seen Emily?”

“No. Why?”

“It’s nothing,” he insisted quickly. “I’ll call you back—”

“No. Aaron Christopher Hotchner, you tell me what’s going on right fucking now, or so help me.”

He sighed heavily. He was still reluctant to admit whatever it was, but I wasn’t going to back down. He promised that he would call after the profile, yet he didn’t, and now he was calling to ask if I knew where Emily was, which meant that the team didn’t, which meant that something horrible— “She’s the last person on Ian Doyle’s list.”

“What? And you let her out of your sight? Aaron!”

“It wasn’t our fault. We didn’t know, Y/N. We think she ran in order to protect all of us, because she thinks she can handle this on her own.”

“Of course she does. She’s always been like that. She’s been acting so fucking weird, Hotch,” I said, hiding my face in my hand, “we should’ve talked to her sooner. Fuck…”

“Y/N, please, if you start panicking, it could be bad for the baby—”

“I’m coming back in.” I knew that argument was going to come about. I knew the second I heard his voice that something was bad enough that he needed to call me, and if it got to that point, I should just come in.

Hotch sounded angry when saying, “No.”

“Emily’s our family. I’m coming in to help find her. And Doyle.”

“Y/N, no.”

“Yes. I’m already on my way, Hotch. I’ll be okay. I’ll bring medication, a go-bag, and I’ll sleep on the couch in your office if I need more rest. But I’m not abandoning Emily. She’s our family.”

“That’s exactly why she left in the first place. Y/N, she left a gift in the drawer of her desk with her phone and badge. It’s addressed to you.”

I stopped in my tracks. “What?”

“There’s a letter attached to it, too.”

“What does it say?”

“I haven’t opened either of them.”

“Open them,” I demanded. “They might be something important!”

“I need to have the bomb squad check it first,” he answered quietly, and almost regretfully. I cocked a brow. What the fuck did that mean? “Doyle’s getting desperate. It could be part of his plan. If I open it now, it might—”

“Okay. Fine. Just… I’ll do it when I get there…” I grabbed a go-bag from the closet and started shoving clothes, medication, toiletries, etc. in there without a single care in the world. “We have to bring her back, Aaron,” I whispered almost helplessly, almost as if the message wasn’t really for him but for me and my conscience. “We have to.”

“I know.” He sounded just as helpless as I was.

I stayed on the phone with him the entire time as I texted Jessica to let her know what was happening, and then I got in my car that was parked in the garage in case we ever needed it for situations like this. My hands were shaking against the wheel as I drove. How could Emily do this? How could she just run instead of staying with us and trusting that we could help her? I didn’t understand how she could possibly think that she was better off on her own than with her family. I didn’t understand why she felt like she couldn’t come to me. Ian Doyle was why she had been pushing me away. All this time, she knew that he was coming after her, and instead of utilizing us, she abandoned us. As angry as I wanted to be, I was just anxious. I was worried sick. If I hadn’t been concerned earlier about Morgan and Emily, I didn’t know what to call this. I hadn’t felt this way since Hotch was all alone as he went to go face off against Foyet and I had to count the seconds until we could get there to give him back up.

When I got to the office, Hotch was waiting at the front door for me, the phone pressed to his ear because he stayed on the call with me all the way until I was standing just in front of him. I crashed my face into his chest. I didn’t care that we had our rules about being intimate at work, or that Cody, the Director, was walking past us as I did so. I didn’t care. The only thing that could calm me down again was being in my husband’s arms, feeling the way his abs under his shirt flexed against my torso, and how his long arms could hold me close while his hot breath floated over the top of my head.

“I still haven’t opened them,” he whispered to me, “but the bomb squad cleared them, and a tox report on the envelope came back negative.

I took his hand in mine, letting him take my go-bag in his other hand so that I wouldn’t have to carry it. We walked together inside. Security was different at night. We usually knew the team working the front desk during the day since we would welcome them every morning when we would come in for work, but we hardly ever saw the night team. I mean, if we were still at the office at night, that meant that we were there until the sun came up, just as the morning security team was coming in. But not this time around. Everything felt so foreign with Emily gone in the wind, and the different, unwelcoming faces at the front desk and standing at the metal detectors didn’t help.

When we made it up to the sixth floor, I could see the team standing up in the roundtable room, working together to tape photos and maps up on the walls to organize all of their evidence and get a new perspective on everything. Hotch led me the opposite direction, though. He led me straight to his office where he dropped my go-bag on the couch, then walked over to his desk where the box and letter were sitting, just as he promised. He didn’t touch them. He just turned to face me while gesturing towards them.

“Do you want me to stay?” he inquired. I shook my head. If it was addressed to me, I wanted to see it all for myself first, and then I would take it to the team if need be. “Okay.” As he started walking out, he wrapped his right arm around my hips before kissing my cheek lightly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I croaked.

He left before anything else could be said or he could change his mind about leaving me alone for this part. His hand drifted off my waist, my fingers trying to tangle with his all the way until he was out of reach. My hand fell to my side. When it was just me in the room, I turned back to the box and the letter. I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to know what was in there. I didn’t want to know what it was that Emily could have possibly left for me now. I didn’t want this to be the last thing I would ever get from her.

I slowly moved to sit down in one of the chairs in front of Hotch’s desk. After staring at the packaging for a moment, I decided to take the box in my hands and start carefully tearing at the wrapping. As the box opened, I saw what it was that she had left for me. A choked back sob escaped me. I smiled as I lifted it out of the box and held it close to my chest. Emily’s favorite animal was a koala. We always joked that if we had left her in charge of putting together the nursery, she would have ended up decorating the whole place with koalas. Never in a million years, however, did I anticipate that she would do this.

I squeezed the stuffed animal koala bear against my chest as tight as I could, as if I were giving it a Superman hug. After everything, the last thing she wanted to do—the last thing she wanted to give us before leaving—was a goddamn stuffed koala bear. I was going to give her so much shit when I would see her again. She could have given us anything. Scotch for Hotch, cigars for Rossi, a book for Reid, something with butterflies for JJ, something small and adorable for Penelope’s desk; but, nope. She chose to leave this for me. Why?

I leaned forward to grab the letter and pull it out of the envelope. It was her handwriting, alright. Ian Doyle couldn’t have forged anything like it, that was for sure, though Reid would probably still want to verify it himself at some point.

“Y/N, if you’re reading this, then you know by now that I’ve left. You know that I had to run in order to protect all of you. You also know that I would never do this unless I thought it was absolutely crucial. Doyle is coming after me. He’s been threatening the team and your family for three months, and I couldn’t tell you because he was going to kill you, and I just can’t let anyone die because of me. I can’t let you lose your family because of me. I know that there’s a chance that I won’t make it… That Doyle will win, and I’ll never get a chance to meet your son or daughter. If that’s the case, then I want them to have this and to know that it came from me. I want them to know that I love them, even if I didn’t get to hold them in my arms. I want them to know that I left in order to save them, and to save their family because they deserve to grow up with a mom, a dad, a brother, and a group of aunts and uncles that love them more than anything. I want you to know that I love you. Joining this team was the greatest gift of my life, but getting to know you and work with you in the field every day is my greatest blessing. You’ve come so far. You’ve grown, learned, suffered, and succeeded. I don’t know anyone like you, and I doubt that I’ll ever meet anyone else like you. You’re special, Y/N. Your son or daughter is going to be special, too; I just know it. More than anything in the world, I wish I could be there to tell you that it’s all going to be alright, but I really don’t know if that’s true. I want to meet your child, and I’m so ready to see the amazing person they grow up to be because they have the most amazing parents. Things just don’t turn out how we expect sometimes. Life gets in the way. Love and suffering gets in the way. I know me asking you and the team to not come looking for me is futile, but I hope that you understand that if you do come looking for me, I can’t guarantee everyone’s safety, so for that very reason, I’m going to ask that none of you follow me. This is my battle to fight. On my own. No one else needs to get hurt because of things I did in my past. I love you, Y/N. I love Hotch. I love Jack. I love your baby. I’m sorry. Emily.”

I folded the paper slowly before setting it down on the desk in front of me. Just when my hands were free, I immediately hid my face in my palms as I started to sob. That wasn’t fair of her. She didn’t get to do this to me. She didn’t get to just run away and say goodbye, never giving me the chance to say goodbye, too.

The team was going to want answers.

So, I wiped as many tears away as I could manage while putting the stuffed koala back in the box and hiding it under Hotch’s desk before grabbing the letter then heading out of his office. As the door closed behind me, I let out a shaky breath. Anderson, Gina, and a few secretaries were mulling about in the bullpen, completely unaware of what was happening. The team was going to take it hard; I knew that. But the rest of them in the office were going to have a hard time with it, too. I didn’t want to have to tell any of them. I didn’t want to have to face the truth.

I took one brave step towards the roundtable room, trying my best not to draw attention to myself. And then I took another. Every time I let out a breath and moved one step closer, I felt the task become easier. I still dreaded it, but at least it was a mindless endeavor now as I moved across the balcony.

As I walked into the boardroom, I saw all of the pictures and maps that the team had been taping up as Hotch was leading me to his office only a few minutes ago. I was so naïve then. I didn’t know the contents of the box or the letter, and I didn’t know what it was that they had all been hanging up and inspecting for the sake of the case. There were photos of Emily everywhere, but she looked so different. Her hair was brown instead of black, it was curly instead of straight, and she had soft bangs instead of harsh and dramatic ones— and her hair was just… longer. She didn’t look like the Emily I had known for the past three years. Then again, I was slowly starting to learn that I didn’t know her at all, and that the Emily I knew and loved was simply a facade, just as she was in those pictures hanging on the wall. She was smiling in those pictures while holding Doyle’s hand. In others, she was smiling against his lips, their fingers tangled in each other’s hair. I shook my head. She was a stranger to us. All this time, we trusted and loved her, and yet we didn’t really know anything about her. She was going to have to explain a lot when she would get back.

I was broken out of my trance when I heard the team arguing about whether or not what Emily had done undercover was moral or not. She sold Doyle weapons. She slept with him. From the looks of it, she even fell in love with him. Was that a part of the plan, or was that who Emily really was?

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Reid insisted with a hint of a whine buried behind his words. “We’re her family. We could have helped her…”

I threw the letter on the table. “Doyle’s been killing families. She ran so that he wouldn’t come after us. She’s leading him away.” Everyone glanced over at me, their faces falling as they saw how red and teary eyes I was, and how I was melted down to sniffles and quiet sobs now.

Reid stretched across the table to pick up the letter. Boy genius could have read the letter in its entirety in less than two seconds, if my math was correct, yet he kept hesitating on every other word, forcing him to practically start over every time his eyes fogged up too far with tears or he lost his train of thought.

“She doesn’t want us to go after her…” he croaked. “How could she ask that of us?”

“Because it’s too dangerous,” Hotch said.

“Her messes are our messes, though. That’s part of being a family,” I whispered. I looked around at all of them. “We have to help her.” Morgan’s gaze fell to the ground. “Derek, please… You know we have to.”

“Morgan, in the morning, you and Rossi will head to Prentiss’ apartment to see if you can find anything to tell us where she went,” Hotch continued as calmly as he could. “In the meantime, let’s get Y/N caught up to speed.”

I sent him a quick look that asked if he was really going to let me pursue this, if he was actually going to let me into the field for this. He nodded. My whole body relaxed in response, a behavioral way to thank him for knowing what I needed and giving in without starting an argument.

Everyone sat down and settled. Hotch cleared his throat. “This is personal. And I know that we’re not supposed to ever let it get personal, so… If it’s ever too much for any of you, it’s okay to take a step back.” No one seemed to be listening to him. All of us just wanted to dive straight into it so that we could catch up to Emily as fast as possible. Hotch caught the hint. “Okay.” He gestured to JJ to give him the clicker for the TV, and once she did, he began speaking. “My friend from… Well, from higher places, gave me this information about Lauren Reynolds. She was apart of a secret group working under Interpole, the CIA, and a dozen other organizations where they profiled terrorists around the world. Their last target was Ian Doyle.” He put a picture of Doyle up on the board. It was the first time I had ever seen this man’s face straight on compared to just his cheek as he was hugging or kissing Emily in any one of the photos up on the walls. “Emily had gone undercover as an arms dealer named Lauren Reynolds. Her mission was to get close enough to Doyle in order to build a stronger profile. Her undercover work, along with the entire team’s profile is what finally took him down. Jeremy Wolff was Doyle’s first victim in this spree.” He pulled up a photo of Jeremy. “He was murdered while on a morning run. His fiancé, Tsia Mosely was the victim Morgan and Prentiss found last night.”

“That was Em’s trigger to leave,” Garcia gasped.

“Clyde Easter was the leader of the profiling task force. He had come to D.C. a couple of days ago with Tsia, but after her murder last night, he ran. My friends in those higher places have already put him on the TSA’s watch list.”

“How close did Prentiss and Doyle get, though?” Rossi scoffed while looking at one of the pictures of them kissing passionately.

I shook my head and looked down.

Hotch didn’t seem to want to talk about it either. So, he instead opted to say, “Doyle fell madly in love with her. That was how they ultimately took him down.”

“Does he know that?” JJ asked.

“I would assume so.”

“That’s why he’s leaving her for last…” I whispered while running my hands over my stomach to ignore the stomachache that was slowly but surely returning.

Morgan stormed out of the room, deciding that he didn’t want to sit around long enough to hear all of this while also doing nothing. If anything, he was probably headed to go to Emily’s apartment already. Rossi stood, too, just when he put the pieces together. We all sighed and fell quiet, considering just how bad things were getting, and the fact that they could get much worse soon if we weren’t faster.

----

After Morgan and Rossi came back, they met with us in the roundtable room to discuss what it was that they had found at Emily’s apartment. Yesterday, while I was at home resting and they found Tsia’s body, Emily threw up outside, then asked Morgan to drive her home so that she could change clothes. What Morgan failed to recognize at the time was that she was packing up a go-bag so that she could leave when the time was right. But she left her safe open. Not that it was a mistake or that she was being careless, but because she knew that we were going to try to follow after her, and she was only giving us what she wanted us to know. She had tried to flush the golden necklace in Rossi’s hand, but he had spotted it just before they decided to head back to the office.

It was a Gimmel ring— a Gaelic-made wedding ring where the husband and wife’s rings would be worn separately during the engagement, then, for the wedding, they would be molded together to represent their unity. The one hanging from the chain in Rossi’s hand was already molded together. He handed it to me so that I could inspect it further. Immediately, I took to the detail of the different Gaelic marking on both rings, and how they certainly meant something in Gaelic—something only Spencer Reid himself could translate, so I passed the necklace to him. He examined it closely, too. While he was busy, I crossed my arms over my chest, shrugged, and asked what this had to do with anything. Certainly, it was just her parents’ old wedding rings, or perhaps her grandparents’. Emily was never married prior. We would have known if she were ever married.

“Ian was—” Rossi began.

“Shit—” Reid threw the necklace on the table angrily before I could get an answer from someone. We all turned to face him. He gestured to the rings, “They have Ian and Emily’s names on them.”

“As I was saying,” Rossi continued cautiously, “Doyle was part of the Irish Mob… The running theory Morgan and I had on the way over here was that it belonged to Doyle. We didn’t know that Emily was… Well, we didn’t realize… I…” He chuckled to himself and how outrageous the situation was. Did we really not know anything about her?

“Doyle ran his operations out of Boston,” Morgan said quietly from the corner. He was sitting down, unlike the rest of us, and he was staring at the closed Ian Doyle file Hotch had gotten from his friends in “higher places”. When we all turned to him, that was his cue to continue. “That was where he and Emily met.” He looked at me. “It’s important to both of them. If he’s not in D.C. anymore, which I doubt he is, he probably scurried back to what he knows, which is Boston. And since Emily wasn’t going to let him bring the fight to us, she probably ran to take the fight to him.” He slid the file away from himself like he didn’t want to stare at it any longer.

“As usual, my slice of chocolate cake is correct,” Garcia said, turning into the boardroom with a laptop in her hands, racing over to the table as if she could hear what we were talking about from across the office. “TSA just got a hit on one of Clyde Easter’s covers. He’s on his way to Boston.”

My jaw fell slightly in shock. “He probably had the same thought we did. He knows Emily just as well as we do, but he knows Doyle better. He knew that they were likely in Boston.”

“It confirms Morgan’s theory,” Hotch agreed. “Garcia, have him detained the second he gets off that plane. We’ll interrogate him when we get there.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“And, you’re coming with us.”

She looked up at him suddenly, uncertainty written all over her face. “Okay. Yeah. Sure.”

As she began contacting TSA again, we all headed to grab our go-bags and get ready to head for the jet. Hotch and I headed to his office. He had some extra clothes stored away in a drawer, so he carefully grabbed them to make sure they would stay folded, then slid them into his bag. I sat down at his desk to look at Emily’s gift again. The box was just staring at me. It was as if it were saying to me: “She’s already dead. You’re too late. There’s nothing you can do.” I sniffled and wiped my face clean with my palms. Hotch, from where he was standing opposite me, took notice of my behavior, yet he didn’t say anything, probably because he didn’t know what to say. If anything, he was just as panicked as I was, as frustrated as Morgan, as desperate as Reid and JJ; he just showed it differently.

On the jet, however, that was another story. Everyone sat down for takeoff, and Hotch held my hand the entire time. Even though I wasn’t scared of flying on the jet anymore, there were times when there were personal stakes involved when he needed to hold me and rub his thumb over my knuckles, and even kiss my cheek once. I melted into his touch. I turned to face him, both of us relaxing with our eyes closed, and I kissed him gently.

Once we were in the air, he tugged at my hand. “I have something to give you.” He pulled me to my feet and led me past the team, then, when there was some remnants of privacy, he handed me a piece of paper.

“What’s this?” I inquired.

“A list of Emily’s phone numbers.”

I looked up at him. “Why?”

“Most of those are unlisted, and only a select few of us know about them, but I figure that if she’ll pick up for anyone right now, it might be you, considering she left the gift for you.”

“You want me to call all of these?” The list was probably nine to ten different phone numbers. How the hell did Emily have so many different phones?

Hotch nodded. “Just try.” He squeezed my shoulder reassuringly before leaving to take a seat with the team again.

I sighed and headed towards the back of the jet. “Whatever you say, boss.”

After stepping into the small bathroom, I turned and locked the door, then I slowly sat down on the toilet seat while turning the list over in my hands so that I could start dialing. The phone didn’t even ring once. There was an immediate dial tone, followed by a voice telling me that the phone number was disconnected by the owner. I sighed and began dialing the next number. Same thing. The first four were all disconnected lines, but by the fifth one, I finally got to her voicemail before a robotic voice told me that the inbox was full. I cursed under my breath. Was that how the next four numbers were going to be, too? There was probably no point to this in the first place. Emily didn’t want us to follow her, therefore she wasn’t going to let us contact her in any way, and I should have known better.

When I reached the last phone number, I entirely anticipated that it wouldn’t work. To my surprise, however, the voicemail came and ended, but there was no robotic voice. There was a single dial tone signaling me to start speaking, so I decided to just… go for it.

“Hey. It’s, um… It’s me. I don’t know if you’re safe, so I’ll keep it brief, but… Hotch said I should try calling all of your numbers to see if I happen to hear back from you. I don’t know why I’ve been sitting on the toilet in the jet for an hour doing all of this when I know you’re not going to pick up, but I just… I had to try. This is the only number that has room left for a voicemail. I don’t even know if you’ll ever hear this, but if you are… Emily… It’s time to come home. Please. I can’t do this without you—I don’t know how to do this without you. I read your letter, and I haven’t been able to stop crying and worrying about you since then. You’re not allowed to die, Emily Prentiss. Do you hear me? I don’t care what it takes, you’re not allowed to leave us. You’re not allowed to just write a goodbye letter and then make it seem like it’s okay that you might not get to meet my baby. You don’t get to say goodbye. Not like that. You don’t get to leave and make me regret not loving you and appreciating you more. Shit…” I sniffled. “I took your love and friendship for granted, Emily, and I’m so sorry. I had all the time in the world to look at you and tell you that I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and Hotch. You’re our family, Em. You always have been and you always will be. You’re one of the greatest friends I’ve ever had, and the worst part is that I couldn’t recognize or admit it until you were gone, and I can’t say it to your face. So, I just need you to come home. I need you to survive all of this bullshit. Because you deserve to meet my baby and give them the koala bear. They deserve to fall asleep in your arms. I deserve the chance to get to look at you and say: ‘I love you, Emily Prentiss. You’re one of my best friends. Thank you.’ Morgan, Reid, Garcia, Hotch, JJ, and Rossi… We’re all waiting to see you again. We love you.”

The call beeped, signaling that I had taken too long to record my message, so it was just sending what I had already said, and that was it. I sighed and turned off my phone.

When we landed in Boston, Hotch’s phone immediately started ringing. We were all stepping off the plane when Hotch answered and stopped in his tracks on the runway. We stopped, too, to gauge just how bad the news was. Then, he hung up. He looked at us and told us that Boston P.D. just responded to a call at a local bar where there was a shooting. They had confirmed that Emily was involved.

At the precinct, we were immediately set up with a monitor so that we could watch the video to confirm whether or not it was really our Emily Prentiss. The security camera outside of the bar was set up at an awkward angle, so all we could really see was a group of men climbing into two separate black SUVS. Out of nowhere, gunfire rained onto the side of the second car, and that was when we saw Emily stepping into the frame of the camera, a MAC-10 in her hands, and a flashbang being thrown into the broken window of the car. But when she approached the car, something seemed wrong.

Suddenly, Ian Doyle revealed himself from the shadows, his gun raised at her; and before Emily could do anything, he fired.

“Oh, my—” I jumped as the gunshots rang. I stumbled back and caught my footing on a nearby desk.

She was killing me with worry at this point. Every time something bad happened to our team, it built this knot in the pit of my stomach that made me want to puke or just completely fall to my knees and give up because worrying about them—my family—was sometimes too unbearable to handle. Worrying about Hotch, Morgan, and Emily specifically were the worst moments. When Hotch was in danger, it was like I couldn’t move or breathe. When Morgan was in danger—like when he stole the ambulance in New York, I felt like my legs would give out at any second and the only thing that could put me back together was knowing that he, my best friend in the entire world, was alright. And he was. Him and Hotch were always okay. No matter how much pain they put me through, at least I could say that they were okay and they were still with me. Hotch was still by my side. Morgan was still there to tease me every chance he got. Yet, this time, with Emily in the hot seat now, it felt like things weren’t going to be okay. That knot in my stomach was twisting in ways worse than ever before—and maybe it was because the stress was putting pressure on the baby, or maybe it was the fact that I never had to worry about her like this before… or maybe it was the fact that I didn’t realize that I cared for her this much until something terrible happened that I wasn’t sure was going to end with rainbows and unicorns. This didn’t feel right. There was something about my worry for her this time around that made me feel like something horrible was going to happen. And when I heard those gunshots echo through the security footage, I thought that was it. Before I saw Doyle pry open her shirt, I was convinced that it was over. I thought for sure as I jumped out of my own skin that I was never going to see her again.

“She’s alive,” JJ said, “that’s the good news.” She sighed heavily. “She’s alive.”

“Only because Doyle wants to toy with her,” Rossi said.

“Once he’s felt he’s made his point of revenge, he’ll kill her,” Hotch added.

“It gives us time to find her, though.” I turned back around to face the team. “We’re going to have to talk to Clyde Easter. He’s the only way we can stop hitting these walls in the case like complete fucking idiots.” Everyone seemed shocked at my anger. “Sorry,” I apologized quietly.

“You’re right.” Hotch crossed his arms over his chest and started drawing his thumb around his lips while thinking. “You want the honors of talking to him?” he asked me. I nodded eagerly. “Okay. Garcia, keep trying to track their path from the bar. See if you can narrow down where it is they took her. It’s probably somewhere remote. Definitely not in the center of the city.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because he’ll want to hear her scream,” Morgan answered blatantly.

No one said anything.

Before I could let his depressing words continue to seep into my mind and heart, I started walking towards the mirror room. Hotch silently followed me. When we reached the door, he skipped a few steps so that he could beat me to it and hold it open for me. I thanked him with a smile.

“I’ll go in first just to loosen him up a bit. Until then, you stay back here.” Hotch grabbed the doorhandle to the interrogation room, then stepped in.

Clyde immediately pushed himself to his seat. “What is this?! I demand to talk to the British Consulate!”

“Calm down.”

“You can’t keep me here. You would know that if you would let me speak with—”

“The British Consulate. Yeah, I know.” He turned the file in his hands over. “Clyde Easter, I’m Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner—”

“Oh, my god,” Easter groaned. “What the hell are you doing in here with me, then?! Shouldn’t you be out there, looking for her?”

Hotch ignored him by opening up the file. “October of 2006. ‘In closing, I have never worked with an agent finer than Agent Prentiss. Her skill at analyzing and predicting terrorist behavior is unparalleled.’ Signed, name redacted.” Hotch threw the file on the table. “Do you want to know what it was that I read when I was given her file in October of 2006? I’ll never forget it because it was the best recommendation I had ever read. ‘In closing, I have never worked with an agent finger than Agent Prentiss. Her skill at analyzing data and predicting the behaviors of potential serial killers is unparalleled.’ Signed, name redacted. I never knew who it was that wrote that recommendation, and I never found out how it was that a small-time data analyst agent got moved from a desk job to being a profiler for the BAU. That was why it impressed me. I can remember staring at it for hours while asking myself, what was it that Cody and Strauss saw in this girl that was so different from the rest of my team that she got special permission to join the unit? I didn’t clear her. In fact, I was told that she was cleared to be on my team, and that was the end of it. But now I know how it happened. The recommendation came from you, it went to Interpol and the CIA, who then sent it to Cody as it was, and he saw an opportunity to steal away a brilliant agent from Europe and utilize her within his greatest unit at the Bureau, so he took it. You used all the right buzzwords with him, which was how Emily was transferred. But her work with your unit was confidential, so you had to write a second recommendation that used my buzzwords in order to get me off your scent.”

“Okay. And?”

“It takes a true sociopath to betray his team and the cause he held dear for self-preservation.”

“So, then, you don’t believe any of your team is capable of that kind of betrayal?”

“I know they aren’t.”

Easter chuckled. “Sure.”

“My point is, if you help us save Agent Prentiss, I might be willing to make a deal with you. Otherwise, you’ll end up in Guantanamo Bay. That’s not what you want. Is it?”

Easter didn’t say anything. Hotch had to know that his threat was entirely empty, right? I mean, we only suspected that Clyde Easter was the one who sold out his team to Doyle, but we had no way to prove it; and by the looks of it, Easter knew that. This tactic wasn’t going to work on him.

“She said you were the best,” Clyde finally said. “I’m unimpressed, however. As I’ve already said, I cannot help you.”

Hotch sighed and took his leave, reentering the mirror room to send me a look that told me that it was finally my turn. So, that was all apart of the plan. He knew that he wasn’t going to get in with Easter that way, but it would get him worked up enough that I could find a way in. I nodded and switched places with him, heading into the interrogation room.

“Hello, I’m Agent—”

“Great,” Easter threw his hands up, “another agent. Like I told the other guy, I won’t speak to any of you. I want to speak to the British Consulate first!”

I rolled my eyes and continued, “I’m Agent Hotchner.” That surely got his attention, as I knew it would. “We need your help saving Emily.”

“Like I told the other Agent Hotchner, there’s nothing I can do for you.”

I searched his eyes for a moment, reading the sparkle there that was pleading for answers and to know that Emily was safe. He cared for her just as much as we did. We were all panicked and racing around to rescue her from Doyle, yet Easter knew he couldn’t, and that was killing him slower than potentially anything Doyle had planned for him. I could use that. Unfortunately, it was my only way in with him; and by catching that slight bit of empathy hidden behind that thick skin of his, I could poke that button now to gain his favor.

So, I used the only thing I could think of. Even Hotch didn’t know this yet, but he was standing in the mirror room, so he was about to find out. “I never got the chance to tell her that she’s going to be the godmother of my child.” Easter’s attention snapped to me. “I need your help giving me that chance.”

Suddenly, as if on cue, Hotch burst into the room. “Did you know that Jeremy sold the list to Doyle?”

I cocked a brow while glancing between the two men in the room. “What?”

“I had my suspicions,” Easter answered. Any bit of rapport I had just built with him was washed away by Hotch’s interruption. Great.

“We need your team’s original profile of Ian Doyle so that we can save Emily’s life,” Hotch said.

“I can’t do that—”

“We need to know who he is as a terrorist in order to profile him as a torturer and serial killer.”

“I can’t do that,” he repeated, this time with his voice fluctuating to tell us that there was more to be said, “without making a deal first.” I rolled my eyes. “You have to kill Ian Doyle yourself. Even if it means killing him without cause.”

“No.”

“You must. If you don’t kill him, then he’s going to keep going after her.”

“I said, no. We don’t kill people without reason.”

“Then, you must do whatever it takes to keep Emily alive. If you think he’s a danger to her, then you must kill him. Protect her at all costs, Agent Hotchner.”

Hotch hesitated for a moment. “Okay.”

The door opened again. JJ was standing in the entryway, still holding onto the doorknob, leaning into the room as she said, “The British Consulate just arrived.”

“Tell them—” Hotch began.

Easter cut him off, “Tell them that their assistance is not required. I’m now consulting with the BAU on a case. That is… if Agent Hotchner agrees to the rest of my terms.” We all looked at him blankly. “Privately.”

The room was silent for a moment as we all stayed still, watching each other intently, waiting for someone to say something. There was no way Hotch was going to agree to that. Easter could ask for anything, and with how desperate we were, Hotch would probably give in, and we all knew it—Easter most of all. At least together we could become a voice of reason for one another. Alone, we were weak. Together, we were unbreakable and perfect. Working together every single day then being able to go home with a still healthy and loving relationship proved that much to everyone who ever doubted us, including JJ, who was still standing at the door.

“Go catch up with the team,” Hotch ordered me quietly.

“Hotch—”

“Go.”

“Aaron, this is a bad—”

“Go,” he ordered more demandingly, his eyes staring into mine with a look that Dominated me into submission. “Go.”

I looked away from him and headed out of the interrogation and mirror rooms with JJ, but I didn’t go to catch up with the team as Hotch had intended— hell, I didn’t even stick around JJ’s side long enough to let her see me kick a wall as hard as I could. I had him. I had Easter right where I fucking wanted, and as usual, Hotch came in to muck it up, thinking that he was saving the day; but now he was alone in there, making whatever deal it was with Easter instead of trusting me—his closest ally and coworker, and his wife. It was infuriating. I could have gotten Easter’s help without all of these extra steps and dramatics. Maybe Hotch was just mad that I brought up the fact that I wanted Emily to be our baby’s godmother. I hadn’t told him about that yet, and it was a rude way for me to let him know what I was thinking, I’d be the first to admit, but he had no right storming in there to break the sudden news that it was Jeremy who had sold out his own team. Fucking Jeremy. Did Tsia know? Clearly Emily and Clyde didn’t. But how could Jeremy possibly do that to his own team? It just begged the question that Easter had asked, were we so sure one of us wouldn’t do the same thing if we were desperate? I shook off the thought. There was no way in hell we would betray each other. We were family. We didn’t keep secrets—at least, none of us except for Emily…

“Sweetness,” Morgan cooed, carefully approaching me. I turned to him while huffing. He threw his hands up in surrender once he saw how red my face was from getting angry and taking it out on the defenseless wall. “You okay?”

“No,” I answered blatantly.

He lowered his hands. “Same.”

I sighed and rested my back against the wall. “I don’t hate her, I swear. I’m just…”

“Worried.”

I looked at him. “Yeah.”

“Me, too.”

“Hotch and Easter are making some kind of deal, I guess,” I said, changing subjects quickly because I felt like if I kept talking about her and the way I missed her, I would fall apart.

Morgan nodded. “They’re already done.” As I cocked a curious brow at him, he gestured behind him as if to say: “They’re waiting for us.” I still didn’t understand, though. “Easter’s presenting his team’s original profile to us.”

I immediately pushed myself off the wall, caught my footing, and stormed past Morgan to head to the boardroom where our team was set up. They were all waiting around patiently. Easter and Hotch were at the front of the room, both silent as they caught a glimpse of me and Morgan entering the room. I watched Hotch carefully while I circled the room and sat down in an empty chair. I was trying to get a read on the situation. What was it that he and Easter said to each other? Did he agree to any deal? Was the deal entirely outrageous? Was he ever going to tell me about the deal? Honestly, if it were important—or if he had taken the deal, he would tell me. Like I said a thousand times before, we didn’t keep secrets from each other. I trusted that he would tell me the truth in due time.

Easter cleared his throat as he began reciting the profile for us. Ian Doyle was a terrorist known under the name of Valhalla. Most of his work was spent in the U.S. smuggling weapons for the Irish Mob, but when he met Lauren Reynolds—or as we knew her, Emily Prentiss—he turned his attention towards building his own empire. His first attack was on his own uncle in Ireland. It was a calculated attack to gain power within the family, and it worked, however, it cost twenty-three innocent people their lives, too. After that, Doyle had to stay low while planning his next attack for power, which was going to be on a rival in Germany. That was when the clock started racing for Emily to complete the profile sooner. After a few months of staying undercover with Doyle in the farmlands of Italy, she reported back to her team with the following information: He was a power-assertive psychopath, who was highly controlling and precise, and if something ever went the slightest bit off plan, he lost his shit.

Sounded like someone I knew. I looked over at Hotch quickly.

“He had a son,” Easter continued. “I don’t know anything about him. Name, age, appearance, anything. Emily was very protective of him, claiming that we were there to profile Doyle, not ruin a child’s life. So, we never pried about it; though, in hindsight, perhaps we should have.”

“Doyle’s son isn’t listed in any of the information in these files,” Morgan said.

“His existence was Need-to-Know only. From what I can tell, Doyle didn’t even put his name on his own son’s birth certificate in order to protect him.”

“But he kept him close,” Hotch said, “so, someone had to raise him.”

“I’ll check employee records,” Garcia said, already typing away on her computer. “I got him!” Garcia cheered. “His name is Declan Jones. He settled in Boston eight years ago with his adopted guardian, Louise Jones, Doyle’s housekeeper.”

“Are they still alive?” Hotch interrogated.

“They went missing seven years ago— Oh, my god—” She looked away from her screen after pressing a single key that projected what she saw up on the monitor for the rest of us.

There were dozens of photos of Declan and Louise on the dirty floor of an abandoned warehouse, duct tape on the mouths, ropes on their wrists, tears streaming down their faces. And then there was a gun being pointed at their heads. I shook my head in denial. No. Please. The next few images were of them being executed one by one. I closed my eyes in disappointment, disgust, and distraught.

“Wait…” Reid whispered under his breath, taking a few steps closer to the screen. “Morgan, look at this.” I opened my eyes long enough to see them both squinting at the screen. “Look at the fingernails. Who do we know that chews on them to that extent?”

“Emily,” Morgan answered lightly, as if shock were settling in his stomach.

“I think I found the warehouse where these pictures were taken,” Garcia spoke up. Suddenly, all of our phones dinged with an address.

Hotch examined it for a moment. “Okay. We’ll give it a shot.”

The team scattered to go collect their gear. Meanwhile, Garcia and JJ stayed put. I, on the other hand, had something on my mind. So, I carefully snuck out of the boardroom and tracked down Hotch to a room where they had a stack of FBI bulletproof vests. I stopped around the corner, however, when I heard Hotch getting off the phone with Strauss. Why the hell was he calling Strauss? I didn’t understand.

Within the next few moments, Hotch was getting ahold of a SWAT team to meet them at the location. While I was eavesdropping, I heard him mention that it was a high-risk situation. My heart started racing in my chest, and I felt like I was going to cry or start panicking. It felt like I was going to lose everyone at once, and the worst part was that I couldn’t do anything about the situation to tilt fate one way or another. If it were me out there, I would have jumped in front of any bullet aimed at anyone on the team. But I wasn’t going out there with them. I was being forced to stay back with JJ and Garcia. How was I supposed to trust that Spencer would jump in front of Hotch? He wouldn’t. The scariest part was that, if I lost Hotch or Morgan, as well as Emily, I wouldn’t know what to do. My life felt like it was crumbling into dust in my hands, and every anxious idea I ever had in my life was consuming me in that moment.

“Y/N?” Hotch waved a hand in my face. I snapped out of my trance long enough to look up at him with foggy eyes. “Baby, it’s going to be okay…” he cooed, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me close, our foreheads pressed against each other. “I’m going to have a body cam on so that you can make sure I’m safe the whole time.”

“Please be careful out there,” I whispered.

His breath was hot on my nose as he said. “I will. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He kissed my lips quickly, yet still passionately, before pulling himself away from me and hurrying out of the room, trading spots with Morgan who needed to grab his vest. My eyes followed him. For a short moment, neither of us said anything, giving me a chance to read his body language. Everything about him was angry. Since we knew for sure that Emily was involved in all of this, Morgan had decided that he was going to be pissed off with her compared to just trying to be understanding and focus on finding her until we could ask her all of our questions.

“Are you going to be okay out there?” I questioned. He nodded while pulling the vest over his head. “Do me a favor, then?” He nodded again. “Watch his back for me since I can’t.”

Morgan looked up at me as he snapped the velcro straps together. “I’ll try.”

I flung my arms around him without warning. He stumbled back before catching me, his arms somewhat embracing me since he didn’t want to squeeze me too hard with my baby bump in the way. I hid my face against the hem of his v-neck. “Thank you.” I let out a sigh. “She’ll be okay.” I knew that had been weighing on his mind, and that was why he was incredibly upset with her. He just cared for her the same way he cared for me and Garcia, and he just couldn’t imagine losing any of us; so, he was taking that anxiety out on all of us using anger… He just needed to hear, “She’s going to be okay,” again, though, and it seemed to help somewhat.

----

Things spiraled quickly and without any warning. Just as SWAT kicked down the door, gunfire was exchanged, causing Hotch, Morgan, Rossi, and Reid to all scatter and find another way into the building. Reid and Morgan went together, but Hotch and Rossi went to the right. They were splitting up. No. Please. Morgan promised that he would watch Hotch’s back for me. I needed them to be together, to make sure that they were both okay, and that they were going to come back to me.

A man stepped out of the door Hotch and Rossi were headed towards. Just as the man raised his weapon at Hotch, I gasped, my hand flying up to cover my mouth in a panic. Rossi shot the man first, though. My shoulders relaxed and I let myself catch my breath. Garcia, on the other hand, had finally decided that enough was enough, and she turned away at the first sight of blood.

Finally, Rossi grabbed ahold of the door before it could slam shut, and Hotch ran in, careful to check every dark corner, every open room, and every locked door. This was the dangerous part. Anyone could have jumped out at any time, catching him off guard, taking him and the chance to say goodbye away from me. Yet, there was no one there. It was like a ghost town until they met up with SWAT again towards the exit of the building where all of the bodies of Doyle’s men were piled up from their failed attempt to fight back.

“We’ve cleared this area,” the SWAT leader told Hotch. “We’re clearing the rest of the building now.”

“We got the right—” Hotch began responding.

“Hotch!” Morgan shouted into the comms. “Prentiss is down!”

My face fell. What the fuck was he talking about? Where was Doyle? How had things spiraled so quickly? The team had only just infiltrated the building, and now there were no eyes on Ian Doyle, and Morgan was claiming that something was wrong with Emily. I refused to believe that she was dead. I didn’t care what he said. There was no way in hell I was going to lose her like this, and there was no way I was never going to see her again. It just wasn’t possible.

Hotch turned on his heels and started dashing in the opposite direction of the exit to go find Morgan in order to see what was really going on. I didn’t believe it. Emily was somewhat of a trickster, though she would never outright admit it. Her and Morgan were devious together, though. I could remember the way she and I used to pick on him for the smallest things, and then the next day, they would team up to prank me as payback. Emily was never the instigator or victim in those cases. She just went with the flow, and she always had the brightest smile on her face. So, I was sure that Hotch was about to turn that corner, and what we were going to see was Emily Prentiss with that bright, toothy grin lighting up her face and the entire room, and Morgan would be laughing behind her at our expense.

“Y/N,” JJ whispered to me, her eyes moving from the monitor to me. I didn’t look at her. “Y/N, you’re hypervent—”

“It’s not true,” I insisted quickly.

Honestly, I hadn’t even realized how lightheaded I was until JJ said something, but that wasn’t going to break my concentration. I was just waiting for Hotch to turn that corner. In just a few moments, all of my suspicions would be confirmed, and I would be able to calm down. I’d be able to breathe, sit down, maybe drink something cold to keep me from puking everywhere.

And then I saw her.

For the briefest moment, I saw her raven hair, and I smiled. For just a single millisecond, I thought that everything was alright, and that we were going to all go home tonight together, and I’d never let her go again. But then Hotch stepped closer. He was hesitant at first, almost like he couldn’t believe what he saw, yet as Morgan’s pleas for help got louder, Hotch ran over to her and grabbed her hand with Morgan. Once he was close enough, I could see the large wooden stake buried in her stomach, right where all of the most vital organs lived.

She was losing consciousness. Her eyes kept fluttering, as if she was fighting her very hardest to keep looking at them. Despite both Morgan and Hotch trying to convince her to keep her eyes open, however, Emily was ultimately starting to slowly close her eyes, her head tilting to the side. A sob left me without warning.

“Hotch…” Emily whispered. She could hardly move, breathe, or speak, yet she was still trying. She was so strong. She always was. She was the strongest person I knew. She could get through this. She could get through anything. “Hotch…”

“I’m right here,” he cooed.

She sighed weakly. “Tell… Tell Y/N I’m sorry… And… I… They didn’t take me for granted…”

“Stop it, Prentiss. You’re going to talk to them yourself,” Morgan insisted.

Her hand was starting to release his, though, and her head was falling back as her eyes couldn’t stay open any long. Hotch shook his head and leaned into her desperately. “Come on, Emily. Stay awake for us. The medics are almost here.” I saw a tear of his land on her collarbone. “Please.” But she wasn’t moving anymore. “Please…”

“No, no, no, no,” Morgan mumbled under his breath as Emily stopped breathing. “No. Emily—” He pressed his palms against her chest to begin performing CPR. “Where are the fucking medics?!”

Just then, as if they realized just how late they were running, a group of medics came storming into the room. Morgan kept pumping Emily’s lungs, but Hotch took a step back to leave the professionals room to help save Emily. I fell into the chair behind me. I couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Not when I was entirely unable to help her or even say goodbye. I wanted to tell her that she had nothing to be sorry for, and that I was the stupid one who did take her for granted, but I loved her so much. I wanted to look at her and tell her that. I wanted it to be with her in that moment, holding her and telling her to keep breathing and blinking because she was going to be the godmother of my child. She had every reason to live now. If for some dumb fucking reason she thought it was okay to let go now in order to spare us some kind of pain, that wasn’t the truth! She had to know that she was going to be a real part of our family now. We needed her here. I needed her here.

Suddenly, she let out a gasp as she woke up. Morgan immediately stumbled back, falling onto his tailbone so that he could be out of the way, too. Within an instant, the medics were sliding her onto a stretcher, then working together to carry her outside, Hotch and Morgan following closely.

“What…” I cleared my throat. “What hospital…”

“St. Bernard’s!” Morgan answered while racing on his toes towards the SUV so that he could drive behind the ambulance.

I pushed myself up to my feet, inviting JJ and Garcia’s stretched out arms that were there to catch me in case I ended up collapsing, which honestly felt entirely possible now. But I tried my best to ignore it.

JJ drove while Garcia and I sat in the back together, holding hands in an attempt to help ease our nerves. We were both shaking like chihuahuas. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure how it was that JJ got us to the hospital safe and sound. If I were driving, I would have crashed before leaving the parking lot of the police station. By the time we were stepping out of the SUV, I thought I was going to pass out due to the nerves, yet JJ still seemed like an unwavering force in the face of disaster. She was set on the path of one thing and one thing only… Finding the team and seeing if Emily was alright. In fact, she seemed more determined than any of the rest of us.

When we found the waiting room, we discovered that the team was sitting around in silence. They had all taken their vests off and thrown them onto a single chair in the corner. Morgan was on his own, staring down at his bloody hands. Meanwhile, Reid and Rossi were together, staring at the wall, both of them entirely lost in thought. And then there was Hotch… He was sitting just ahead of me, his face buried in his hands as his knee bounced like crazy. He had taken off his tie, and the top button of his dress shirt was undone, just as his cufflinks had been undone, too. My face pouted. When he looked up at me, I saw just how distraught he was, and I knew that the only thing that could possibly help make things better was to hold each other close. He seemed to have the same thought because he pushed himself to his feet and held out his arms for me.

“Have you guys heard anything?” I asked as I flung my arms around Hotch.

“Nothing yet.”

“I’m going to talk to the doctors,” JJ said, already walking out of the room.

Hotch let go of me slightly, giving me a chance to turn around to see that Morgan still hadn’t looked up from his hands. I whispered to Hotch that he should sit down and wait for me to come back. He nodded and did as he was told. Without saying anything, I left the waiting room to find a nurse to see if she could give me a cloth and a water bottle in order to wipe all of the blood off of Morgan. When I had what I needed, I returned to the room to see that Garcia was trying to console him already, so I handed the materials to her then went to sit down next to Hotch.

Without hesitating, Hotch took my hand in his, and he hid his face against my bicep. “I can’t do this,” he whispered.

“It’s okay. She’s going to be okay.”

He shook his head, but he didn’t say anything.

A few minutes later, as JJ returned from tracking down the doctors to get an update on how Emily was doing, we all sat up straight to hear the news. Though, nothing technically had to be said. Just from her posture, her puffy, red face, and the way her lip was quivering, I knew that it wasn’t good. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to come back to the FBI? Maybe she wouldn’t be able to walk again? No. I had to stop imaging the worst. JJ just had to tell us. So, we waited for her to gain the courage.

“She never made it off the table,” she finally admitted.

“No,” I shook my head in denial. “No, you’re lying.”

JJ just stared at all of us while blinking away the tears.

I kept shaking my head. “JJ, where is she?”

She didn’t move.

“JJ!” I exclaimed angrily, pushing myself to my feet.

Hotch tried to pull me down. I felt my breath shudder as a choked back sob slowly crept out of my chest. The whole world was crashing down on me. The pain I felt in New York was nothing compared to this. The pain of seeing Haley dead on our bedroom floor was lightyears away from this. This wasn’t real. I was dreaming. Emily wasn’t gone. She probably just got out of surgery and her first thought was to have JJ play some kind of a sick joke on us. Well, ha ha. I wanted to see her now.

Reid stood from his chair and tried to push past JJ, but she caught him in a hug. When I saw them both break down into tears, I finally realized that this was real. This was happening. My knees buckled and I wavered slightly. Hotch jumped up and wrapped his arms around me so that I wouldn’t fall over. I cried out and sobbed as hard as I could. She was supposed to come home. She was supposed to meet my baby.

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

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc​ @braty-angel

[schrijverr]

'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 3 out of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: grief and mentions of unhealthy coping, terminal illness and death.

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

Chapter 3: Virginian Spiderwort Means ‘Momentary Happiness’

“Eat lunch,” a sandwich along with a muffin and coffee was dropped on Alex’s desk, who jumped slightly in his seat and looked up.

“What?” he asked dumbly.

Thomas rolled his eyes: “You’ve been at it since six, I don’t even know why you were in that early that’s ridiculous, who comes in that early on a Thursday? And I haven’t seen you leave once. You need to eat, so eat, dumbass.”

“How do you know I started at six?”Alex asked.

“I didn’t, you send me an email around then, so I made a guess and you just confirmed it,” Thomas shrugged, ignoring Alex’s squawk, “Now eat.”

Alex picked up the lunch and started eating, while Thomas dropped into the chair opposite of him and watched him, sipping his own coffee.

“You’re just gonna sit there and watch me the entire time? Where is your lunch?”

“Already ate it and yes,” Thomas answered, “I know how this goes, you’ll come up with a good sentence and stop eating to write it down and then it’s a few hours later.”

Alex looked guilty and chastised, so he closed his laptop, which he had been staring at, and focused on Thomas: “So, how have you been?”

“That’s so awkward, I feel bad for us both,” Thomas cringed.

“Well, I’m sorry that I am not a great conversationalist,” Alex threw up his hands in defeat.

“According to Angie you are,” Thomas immediately regretted it, he didn’t want Alex to know he and Angelica talked about him.

“Yeah, but most of the time people I’m talking to aren’t you.” Fuck, was that too revealing? Did Thomas know he was struggling, because of stupid feelings?

“I’m sorry my face upsets you,” Thomas rolled his eyes, misinterpretingthe comment“Anyway, how did you get in so at six, I’m pretty sure schools don’t start that early. Where did you put Philip?”

“Oh, Pip is with Eliza and Maria for the week,” he said, “Eliza is so busy after the opening of the orphanage and they thought having a kid comfortable with them there would help the others get out of their shell and Pip had missed his Aunties. He’s staying till Wednesday.”

“And you decided that working abnormal amounts was smart when you got a bit of a break from your usual responsibilities?” Thomas judged, not so silently.

Alex grinned sheepishly and shrugged: “It’s what I do best, but I’m not being a complete dumbass, I leave a a somewhat normal time, I swear.”

“Hmmh.”

“I’m serious, I promised Angie I’d leave each day before six and she checks, it’s terrifying,” Alex shuddered and Thomas laughed: “Hear, hear.”

After that Alex quickly ate his lunch while they talked about the latest meeting, which lead to Alex complaining about Lee and Adams and how they could go fuck themselves.

When his lunch had completely disappeared, Thomas got up to leave. Before he could, however, Alex called out: “Hey, Thomas?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks again. For, you know, checking up on me,” he said awkwardly, “If you, like, ever need help or something, call me, okay?”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Thomas promised, not thinking the day he would take Alex up on it would come anytime soon.

He was wrong in that assessment, because that Monday he called Alex, hands shaking and eyes blurry.

“Thomas? What is it? I’m already at work.” Of course he was, it was only 6:15 in the morning, who wouldn’t be at work at that time.

“Can you-” a shuddery sigh that he hated, “Can you tell Wash- Washington that I’m not coming- coming in today?” he asked.

“God, Thomas, are you alright?” the worry was evident in Alex’s tone.

“Not really,” Thomas sounded small, “I didn’t want to bother you, but Jemmy is away and I normally can handle this stuff, but it was all unexpected and now I’m here on my fucking kitchen floor calling you. Fuck.”

“I’m coming to you.” Alex said.

“You don’t need to-”

“Yes, I do. Come on, I’m not leaving you like that. You’re getting a motherfucking patented Hamilton hug, live with it,” Alex told him, “I’ll be there as soon as I can, hang in there.”

“…Okay,” the line went dead.

Alex hurried to Washington’s office, for once grateful that the man liked to come in early on Monday’s to ‘kick off the week right’ or whatever.

“Come in.”

“Sir, I’m taking the day off,” Alex burst in, “Thomas is not coming in either, he just called me. I thought, I’d let you know.”

Washington looked surprised: “You and Thomas…?” he trailed off curiously.

“Nothing like that, sir,” sadly enough, he added mentally, “He helped me out in a rough spot and I’m returning the favor. We found we had something in common.”

“Well, then go. An honest man always returns his favors, son,” Washington shooed him out of the office.

“Not your son and thank you, sir,” Alex said gratefully, before rushing off.

The drive to Thomas’s, admittedly very impressive, house took about thirty minutes and Alex was out the car and on the driveway immediately as he practically ran to the door and knocked: “Hey, hey, Thomas. It’s me, open up.”

After a moment the door swung open, revealing a Thomas Alex had never seen before.

He was in sweatpants and a loose tank top, his eyes were red-rimmed and his hair a mess. But above all, he looked small, hunched in on himself and lacking the confidence and arrogance that usually clung to him like a second skin.

Alex didn’t waste a second gathering him up into his arms. It wasn’t as comforting as it could have been because Thomas was a fucking giant and therefore could not fit into Alex’s arms completely, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

Thomas clung to him tightly, chocked off sobs being ripped out of his chest as he cried.

They just stood there in the door opening. Alex couldn't really move Thomas around like the other had done him, so he just had to wait.

“Sorry,” Thomas said after a while, his voice raw as he broke away.

“No sorry, not today, okay?” Alex told him, “Now, why don’t we set you down on the couch, yeah? It’s more comfy and definitely better than the porch.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Thomas agreed and numbly walked over to a living room, Alex trailing behind him.

Thomas collapsed on the couch, looking like a miserable heap and Alex had to pause and think of a plan of attack. He’d been a Lieutenant Colonel, he could do this. First, he needed to know the situation.

He sat down next to Thomas: “Hey, dude, can you tell me what happened? You said it was unexpected, what hit you out of nowhere?”

“Phone,” Thomas gestured vaguely to the kitchen, then didn’t elaborate beyond a, “Got an email.”

Okay, not much information, but a lead.

Alex went to the kitchen, there was an uneaten bowl of soggy cereal on the counter and a phone on the floor. He threw the cereal away and toasted some bread before he picked up the phone and read the start of the email:

My dearest, Thomas

I hope the future finds you well. Yes, the future! I found this site in which you can write emails that will be send 10 years later, so I do hope you’re still using the same email address or this will be awkward.

You may be wondering why today? It’s not a particular date for us, but I’m writing you this email because I know I won’t be there when you read it.

I had another attack today, but you know that of course, though maybe you’ve forgotten all the attacks through the years. We’ve been doing this for over three years already and I know I have not been writing the dates down.

But none of that now, this was supposed to be a pick-you-up, because I love you, dearest.

Alex stopped reading, this was not for his eyes. He quickly did the math. Thomas had said she’d died seven years ago, this was written ten years ago, so they still had three years together at this point.

God, he couldn't imagine what it was like to know your lover was dying and you could do nothing to stop it, just prepare for the inevitable.

The toast popped out the toaster and Alex locked the phone, before putting the toast on a plate and getting a glass of water. He walked back to the living room and handed Thomas the food as he gently said: “Come on, you can’t be sad on an empty stomach.”

That got a small amused huff from the Virginian, which Alex counted as a win.

He ate slowly and in silence and Alex just waited for him to gather himself. This was not a date on where you expected the missing to hit, there were no fun rituals – like on a birthday – to keep or something to celebrate or commemorate.

Just sadness.

Sudden sadness.

Alex looked at Thomas, who softly chewed on his toast. He didn’t think dragging Thomas outside today would be good for him. He needed time to process the message, to think of what his late wife wanted him to know for when she wasn’t there.

He now regretted not reading the rest of the message, just so that he could have a grip on Thomas’s thoughts, but he knew it had been the right thing to do.

When the plate was empty and the glass gone, Alex announced: “Okay, we’re having a sad couch day, but you need to tell me how to operate your TV and where you keep blankets, because you need a blanket nest to be sad in, alright.”

Thomas blinked at him owlishly for a moment, then shook his head with muted amusement and whispered: “TV is just normal and there is a guestroom, second door upstairs, I keep the blankets there.”

“Good,” Alex got up, “Are you alright for a moment?”

The other only nodded. Alex didn’t like how quiet Thomas was. He might not be the loudest person, but there would always be a presence hanging around him that made him feel like the loudest person in the room and that was now completely gone.

Alex rushed through the house, dropping of the plate and glass in the kitchen and putting on the kettle, before taking the stairs two steps at a time.

At times like these he was happy he had top surgery, because catching your breath with a binder on fucking sucked and running overall was a bad idea.

The guest room was less extravagant than he’d expected. It was decked out for comfort and stylish, but it wasn’t over the top. Actually the whole house was more stylish than expensive just for the sake of being expensive, something Alex hadn’t realized before.

Of course, the only befores there had been were company parties that Thomas had offered to host wherein he showed off on purpose.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen pictures during those parties either.

He grabbed the blankets and some pillows from the guest room and went back downstairs carefully, he didn’t want to trip or drop the blankets, but he also just wanted to be nosy.

The walls were still void of pictures.

It tugged at Alex’s heart, his own walls had been bare before he’d met John and all his other friends and they’d filled it up over the years of happy moments, but Thomas had nothing. Though he didn’t have time to dwell on it now, he had more important matters to attend to.

Thomas was still in the same position he’d left him in, staring at the still turned off TV. Alex dropped the blankets on the floor, only scooping one out of the pile to drape over Thomas’s shoulders, before finishing the tea.

How strange, he mused as he made the tea, me and Thomas are neither tea drinkers, except on days like these, except with each other.

He walked back to Thomas and handed him the mug, relieved when the other took it gratefully and let the steam warm his face as he burrowed into the blanket slightly.

Alex was still concerned about the hunched over position, which was rich coming from him, he knew, but getting lost in work and fucking up your posture was different than getting lost in grief and fucking up your posture.

So, he gently pushed Thomas back into the pillow of the couch and Thomas went easily. For all the man could fight him on every little thing at work, he wasn’t putting up a fight now and Alex was glad for that fact, even if it was slightly disturbing.

Taking the blankets, he draped them over Thomas and himself after he’d grabbed the remote and put on a nature documentary.

Thomas gave him a bemused look and Alex was never more relieved that Thomas was judging him, anything was better than that empty look in those usually lively eyes.

“It’s soothing,” he shrugged, “and low effort.”

“Fair,” Thomas nodded, his voice hoarse and raw, making Alex regret not putting honey into his tea, because it sounded like it hurt.

They sat in silence as they watched a frog hop over a leaf while the narrator told them slightly horrifying facts about the creature in a monotone voice.

After about an hour of animal facts and nature relations, Thomas spoke up: “She asked me if I had any kids yet.”

Alex looked up, but didn’t speak, just let Thomas figure it out.

“We wanted kids, I think maybe me more than her to be honest, though she loved being an aunt,” he went on, “But with her condition, well, pregnancy was just too risky and when we knew just how serious it was… Neither of us wanted to make an adopted child go through losing a parent again, so we never had kids.”

He took a shuddery breath: “And then she asked if I had them, she hoped I found that and I don’t know-”

Tears were falling again and without thinking Alex pulled Thomas into his side and Thomas didn’t protest as he burrowed his head closer. He whispered: “I always knew she wanted me to move on from her, live a good life, but hearing it again after having time to process her being gone. It’s- it’s different.”

Alex just ran a soothing hand over Thomas’s back as he thought about that. After a second he slowly said: “Knowing and accepting are different things and sometimes one is harder than the other.”

Thomas mulled over his words, then said: “Well, I hate accepting.”

He didn’t tell Thomas that moving on was good, that it was healthy. Both of them knew that well enough, they must have heard it a thousand times from concerned friends. It was always meant well, but sometimes you just didn’t want to hear it, not in moments like these.

“She told me she had something to say to me, but she didn’t know what just yet and that she had to think about it and tell me when she figured it out, because she still had time,” Thomas broke the silence again.

“That- that must be hard to read,” Alex told him.

The other nodded into his side, then said: “I think I know what it is though…”

“Do you want to share?” Alex asked.

“Yeah, she- I never realized this, but she started telling me how I would do great things and I better have a picture of her with me so that she could see it. I keep her in my wallet. I always thought she meant in the world. Big responsibility to have on my shoulders, but I tried. For her.”

Thomas fiddled with the blanket, he wasn’t looking at Alex, but he seemed content to curl up in the shorter man’s side.

“But I’m suddenly startingto think that’s not what she meant,” the words sounded small and Alex’s chest constricted painfully. He didn’t know how he would react if something he’d believed about John for years would be ripped out from under him one day without warning.

“What do you think she meant?” he asked, trying to keep Thomas talking, maybe if he said it out loud it would make more sense than when it swirled around in his head.

“I- I think she meant that I would- ugh- it’s- you had to-”

“Take your time.”

“She was always telling me about the great things in life, but she loved The Lord of the Rings, those books and movieskept her company throughout all the hospital visits. Her favorite quote was: ‘Saruman believes it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that’s not what I found. I found it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folks that keep the darkness at bay’,” he explained.

There was a moment of silence in which Thomas hesitated.

“It might be stupid, but I think she subconsciously absorbed that. That for her the great things were the small things,” Thomas said, “I once took her on a simple picnic and she said it was the greatest day of her life.”

Alex nodded along, he could already see where this was going, but he let Thomas set the pace of the conversation.

“I think she meant that I would get to do all the little things that made life great, have all the milestones we never got to have, but she phrased it in her own Martha-esque way,” there was a smile in his voice as he said that.

“Did she always have her own way of saying things?” Alex asked, hoping to keep whatever was bringing that smile to Thomas’s face going.

“Yeah,” a success, “she read a lot and she listened to a lot of music. She played guitar, wrote her own lyrics too. She was great with words, much better than me. I think she just consumed so many ways people expressed themselves through words that she had her own dialect. It was completely English, but just slightly different. It’s hard to explain.”

“I get it,” Alex assured him, “She sounds wonderful.”

“Oh, you would have liked her,” Thomas said, sounding strangely proud of that fact, “She took the time to make fun of my magenta suits in her email to me,” Alex snorted at that, “And you both take no shit and it’s easy to talk to you.”

Alex was shocked at that, no one told him he was easy to talk to. He had opinions and would let you know immediately, making you debate if you disagreed with him. Sure, he could be charming, but he made you think when you talked. It wasn’t easy.

He said nothing.

“Apparently she wrote it while I was next to her,” Thomas suddenly said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was asleep in a chair. It was after one of her attacks, I think I remember this one, because it suddenly got way more serious after that, it was the heaviest we had in months,” his voice trailed off into a whisper, “We’d thought she was doing better.”

God, Alex couldn't imagine and that voice felt like a punch in the gut, his arm reflectively tightening around Thomas.

“Fuck, in the email she said she still has time,” Thomas breathed, “I know it was still a while after that before she- she died, but- God, it fucking hurts, Alex. We knew we didn’t have forever, but reaching thirty would have been fucking nice.”

There was that all familiar anger at what could have been if faith hadn’t decided to be so cruel. Alex knew it oh so well and just watched as Thomas clenched his fist, but didn’t get up. The anger drained out of him almost as quickly as it had come and his heaving breaths turned into sobs.

And if that wasn’t familiar as well.

Alex quickly brought up the other arm and pulled Thomas into a hug. They were cocooned in blankets and cuddling on the couch and it should be weird, but it just wasn’t.

It seemed Thomas was done talking now, because he stayed silent as the time dragged on. Once Alex realized he wasn’t going to talk, he started humming. Alex had never done well with quiet, though he didn’t mind that much, but he more thought it would nice for Thomas to have something other than his thoughts to focus on.

They sat there until their stomachs decided it really was time for lunch. Alex offered to make it so that Thomas could stay seated, but while Thomas gratefully accepted his offer to make lunch, he followed him into his kitchen and sat at the table.

His eyes fell on the phone that Alex had left on the counter when he had made them tea. His fingers twitched, but he didn’t move any further than that, conflicted look on his face. Alex let him figure it out on his own and just focused on making French toast.

In the end he picked up the phone and stared at it for a moment, before putting it down on the table, screen down.

He pushed the French toast around his plate for a while, Alex didn’t say a thing, just watched him patiently. If Thomas didn’t want to eat that would be bad, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world for just a day.

It might be bad for Alex to let Thomas indulge in bad habits, but he promised himself he would make sure it was a one of thing. He managed to make sure Philip ate and slept enough despite his own inability to take care of himself, he could do the same for Thomas.

Thomas ate a few bites, it was hard to pretend to care about food right now, but Alex had tried and he knew Martha would hate him neglecting himself.

God, Martha and her stupid- No, he couldn't think that, she meant so well, but it just hurt. She should have told him.

Though that might have been worse.

He looked at his phone again, uncertainty creeping in. Would Alex think it was a bad idea to read the email again? He just wanted to know if he hadn’t imagined it. He hadn’t really committed it to his memory like all her other writings through the tears, but he doubted he would be able to read it without crying all over again.

An idea suddenly came to mind. It was a stupid idea, but Alex had seen him suggest multiple stupid ideas so it wasn’t anything new.

“Can you read it to me?” the words were out before he even realized.

“What?”

“The email,” he clarified, “Can you read it to me?”

“You’d want that?” Alex seemed unsure and Thomas could feel the doubt creeping in.

He shook it off, he’d made up his mind: “Yes, I just want to know the whole thing, but I can’t really read it, because I’ll start crying, so you have to.”

Alex hesitated for a moment: “Alright, if you’re sure…”

“I am.” Thomas unlocked the phone and handed it to Alex, trying to ignore how his hand shook slightly.

After a deep breath, Alex started:

“My dearest, Thomas

I hope the future finds you well. Yes, the future! I found this site in which you can write emails that will be send 10 years later, so I do hope you’re still using the same email address or this will be awkward.

You may be wondering why today? It’s not a particular date for us, but I’m writing you this email because I know I won’t be there when you read it.

I had another attack today, but you know that of course, though maybe you’ve forgotten all the attacks through the years. We’ve been doing this for over three years already and I know I have not been writing the dates down.

But none of that now, this was supposed to be a pick-you-up, because I love you, dearest.

I know I tell you all the time, but maybe you haven’t heard this in a while by now, so I’m telling you again. I love you so incredibly much and you deserve all the love in the world and I hope you have someone to remind you.

It might seem strange for your wife to hope you have found love again, but I truly do hope you went on to live a happy life with people who love you and make you happy.

God, maybe you’ll have kids.

If you do, tell them that their Aunt Martha is watching over them from the stars. I promise to guide their little feet home to you safely and sing them lullabies when they’re having a nightmare, just a song between them and the moon.

I don’t want my passing to be the end for you. I have seen your soul and I know there is so much in store for you, I just can’t place my finger on what, but I still have time to figure it out and I’ll tell you when I do.

Now that I’m writing this, I honestly don’t know what to tell you. I thought I would have a hundred pages ready for you, but I don’t.

You know that moment when you have dinner with someone, but you’ve been with each other the whole day, so you can’t ask them how their day has been? It’s kind of like that.

I have seen you the entire day today and if I hadn’t I can tell you in person in a bit, but by the time you’re reading this, you’ve had time to make new memories without me and you can only tell them to my grave or my picture.

This is so morbid. Sorry, dearest.

I could take more time to think about what I want to write you, but I have this strong urge to finish it now. It’s almost like I’m running out of time. I am, in a way. But I still have tomorrow, the doctors said I’ll make it through the night with no problem and I’ll be discharged tomorrow. They say I have a good chance at a few more years and by God I hope they’re right.

It’s ironic how you’re asleep in an uncomfortable hospital chair by my side as I’m writing this.

You stress too much. It makes you look old. I know I’ve always joked about you being an old man, but you don’t have to make it a reality by aging from the stress.

I hope the creases by your eyes become more pronounced than the ones on your forehead. I hope so many things for you and I hate that I can never give you all the care you’ve given me.

You’re a good man, Thomas. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

I know you worry. You worry too much, just like the stress. Just promise me you won’t give in to all the doubt you create for yourself. Appearances aren’t everything, I know you care about style (the magenta suits are really taking it a bit too far, you are lucky I love you, you ridiculous man), but try comfort every once in a while as well, okay?

Now, I’m sounding like my mother, God this whole email has gotten out of hand…

Not that I had much of a plan to start with. I saw this and just had to write to you, to tell you how worthy you are and how much I wanted to have a forever with you.

It feels rude in a way to write you like this, you might have moved on, created a new life and I’m disrupting it from beyond, but I know you, Thomas, I know you so well that it hurts sometimes and I also know that you have a hard time letting go.

I hope you have that life we could never have.

I hope you’ve found a job that makes you happy, with a spouse that cares for you and a picket white fence that America tries to sell in every movie with a happy ending.

But I fear that you got stuck on us, on me.

And while I am flattered if that is the case (and not bitter if it isn’t, God I’m so happy for you if I’m wrong, dearest), then I want you to know it’s okay to move on, it’s okay to live.

God, this is one depressing sappy mess.

But we’re both kind of sappy depressing messes, aren’t we? You brought me flowers to the hospital today, you remembered my favorites are Virginian Spiderworts. Did you know they mean ‘momentary happiness’?

Momentary happiness, like I said: depressingly sappy.

I don’t know if I told you the meaning, but it is an interesting bouquet to bring to a hospital bed of someone terminally ill, you know? And I love you for it. Never change, Thomas, never change. Stay my sweet little dork, I beg you. If someone tries to change you, tell em no or I will come beat them up for you.

I will forever protect you, I promise.

I think this is good and if it isn’t you won’t really get to leave a review, so I’ll be safe either way. So, this is it, this is goodbye, for now at least. I still have the luxury of giving you a hug when you wake up and I’m gonna keep doing that till the end.

Stay strong, I love you,

Martha, your beloved wife”

In the end they were both crying and Alex was impressed with himself that he had managed to make it to the end. The email gave him more questions about Thomas, but he it wasn’t really the time to ask about his late wife’s protectiveness.

He cleared his throat after a moment and said: “Martha was amazing.”

That got him a surprised chuckle as Thomas’s breathing started to become more regular. He swallowed and agreed: “God, she was.”

“Tell me more about her,” Alex requested. He remembered how nice it had been to tell Thomas about John and he found himself curious about the woman that had enchanted Thomas.

“She was the most intelligent woman I’ve ever met, and I know Angelica,” Thomas started, Alex let out a small amused huff, “Martha- Martha was the kind of person you had to look at, you know? When she walked into a room, it got brighter.”

Thomas perked up considerably when talking about Martha. He was still slightly curled into himself on the kitchen chair, but he was at least making eye contact with Alex.

“I used to be overly anxious – still am, but I’m managing – and she was always there for me when I needed it. She was a spitfire, she talked when I couldn’t and stood up for me,” Thomas confessed, “I try to embody her when I need to make a presentation.”

Alex was taken aback by it: “I didn’t know you got anxious.”

“It’s better when arguing with you, I have to think too hard on how to counter you to think about stressing,” Thomas tossed out casually, immediately hoping that wasn’t too revealing, he’d already compared the man with Martha once today.

But Alex just smiled happily, though it seemed unconscious to Thomas’s eye.

“Martha never argued with me like you do, though,” Thomas mused trying to save himself, “She would just roll her eyes at me whenever I did something she found unnecessary.”

“Like what?” Alex raised a brow with amusement.

There was probably too much glee in the man’s eyes for the question to be innocent, but Thomas didn’t care: “Well there was one time a lady stopped me on the street and she asked if I did a lot of desk work, which I did, so I said yes. Then she asked me if it made my back hurt-”

“Naturally also yes,” Alex nodded.

“Indeed, so then she asked me if she could touch me and at this point I’m scared, but too far in to say no,” Thomas tells him, “So she just put her hand on my back and starts praying.”

“She blessed you?” Alex sounded delighted and disbelieving.

“Yes and I did not want to be there. So, I was sending Martha ‘come help me, please’-looks, but she just shook her head and watched me. I think she would have stepped in, if she didn’t think it hilarious,” Thomas rolled his eyes fondly, “She always asked me if I felt blessed whenever we visited a church afterwards.”

“That is hilarious,” Alex giggled at the story and Thomas felt a strange sort of pride that he made Alex giggle like that. He’d heard the other laugh before, but never giggle. It was a light sound that eased some of the pain in Thomas’s chest.

He smiled at Alex and admitted: “Maybe in hindsight it was.”

There was a natural pause in their conversation, until Alex asked: “How are you feeling?”

Thomas thought about it for a moment. The ache he’d felt in his chest when he had seen the email that morning had dulled. It was still sharper than on most days, but it didn’t feel as overwhelming and never ending as it had done.

“Better,” he answered honestly.

“That’s good to hear,” Alex said, “Do you want to go back to the couch and watch a movie? This time I’ll even let you pick.”

“Sure,” Thomas agreed easily.

“Great, do you have popcorn or something?” Alex asked, already moving around in his kitchen to check the cabinets, not even waiting for an answer.

“Upper left,” Thomas said after a while of watching Alex struggle to find it.

Alex looked up to the shelf, then back at Thomas, before he huffed: “This is just discrimination against short people.”

Thomas laughed, before getting up to grab the popcorn.

They stayed on the couch for the rest of the day, Thomas leaning into Alex’s side, neither of them caring.

For dinner Thomas made Mac-’N-Cheese and they ate while having a passionate discussion about whether the characters in the horror movie they’d watched had made the right decisions.

When Alex said he was going home, Thomas felt kind of sad about it.

“Goodbye, Alex. I- Thank you. For coming. You didn’t have to do that, but it was nice, so thanks,” he said awkwardly.

“Hey, anytime,” Alex smiled, “Besides, it was the least I could after what you did for me and-” he hesitated, “and you’re actually not that bad of a company now I know you better, so-” he shrugged, “did it with pleasure.”

Thomas smiled, it was genuine and crinkled his eyes in the way Martha had adored. He didn’t know Alex melted at the sight too.

“You’re not that bad either, Alex,” he said softly.

“Well, I see you at work,” Alex cleared his throat and stepped away then he looked back and added, “Don’t come in if you’re feeling shitty tomorrow, okay.”

“I won’t,” and Thomas found it wasn’t a lie.

Again, this is not a guide on how to deal with grief, for the love of god don’t take advise from fics. I have tried my best to make it not shit and somewhat accurate, but I can promise nothing.

I debated posting the letter separate of the fic, but it’s important to the fic and the chapter title, so I kept it like this even if it’s a bit clunky. I only decided here to make the flowers important and I thought it very descriptive of their realtions, since both knew it would end sooner than later, no matter how happy they got to be during their time together.

Also, the blessing thing actually happened to me, slightly different, but it happened. And no, I do not feel blessed and yes it was awkward and none of my friends came to my rescue.

[yoongi-sugaglider]

Daegu Quarantine

Jungkook x reader

Gang/ zombie apocalypse au

Warnings:

Gore, violence, blood, gun shot wounds, zombies, mention of drugs and drug dealing, weapons discharge in self defense, main character death, zombies, course language, zombies, drinking, did I mention zombies?

Summary:

They were the top of their game, known throughout the city as the smartest and most dangerous crew to ever hit the Daegu streets. But what’s going to happen when this group of young men encounter something right out of a horror film?

Word count: 2588

Part 14===Part 15===Part 16

The sound of screaming voices awoke me the next morning to the sight of an empty room. The dull aching in my chest and leg only grew the more my mind woke up.

The screaming escalated, followed by a series of crashes and thumps from downstairs. I sighed, shifting to the side and almost having to roll myself into a sitting position. It wasn’t unusual to wake up to the sound of yelling, but from the way things seemed to be, this one might just actually be serious.

Throwing my legs over the edge of the bed I inhaled deeply, steeling myself to stand when the bedroom door swung open and a wild looking Jeanette and Rose bolted inside before slamming the door shut behind them.

Rose slid down the back of the door, arms folded over her knees as she leaned her head against it and closed her eyes. Jeanette inhaled, exhaling the breath slowly through her nose in a quiet whistle and humming to herself as she shook her head at the closed door.

“What’s going on out there?” I asked, wincing slightly when the two women jumped and whipped their heads around to stare at me with terrified gazes.

“Shit! You’re awake!”

“Oh thank god you’re awake!”

Their voices swirled and merged into one single unit of confusing emotions and I couldn’t help but snicker at their faces. “Okay, conflicting moment aside there. I’ll repeat, what in the ever loving fuck are those idiots up to downstairs?”

The two began talking at once, each speaking animatedly and raising their voices in an attempt to talk over the other. I raised a finger, instantly silencing them to sheepish glances between each other.

“I am...one person. With two ears, and half a brain coming down off of some pretty intense pain killers. Please...one at a time.”

Jeanette glanced at Rose who shrugged in defeat before dropping her chin to rest on her folded arms. The younger woman gave her a nod of deference to speak on the subject.

“Well...okay so like this morning when I got up everything was pretty quiet so I thought I’d go to the kitchen to start breakfast. Hobi was there balancing dishes from the dishwasher in one hand while trying to open a cabinet with the other. Your uh..Jungkook was sitting at the table kinda staring off into space when Tae came in and scared Hoseok. He dropped all the dishes and that’s what set Jungkook off. Jimin jumped in and they started screaming at Tae about some mission and well... They’ve been fighting ever since and it’s only getting worse.”

I let out a long suffering sigh, scrubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes before looking up at them. “Help me up.” 

“But…” Jeanette paused as I shook my head.

“I’ve got to get down there. Those idiots are going to kill each other and I’m the only one that can stop them.”

Rose groaned, banging her head against the door and fisting her hands through her hair. “This is all my fault…”

“That’s not true.” I grunted, shifting my weight to the edge of the bed. 

“But if I hadn’t been there you wouldn’t have gotten hurt and they wouldn’t be fighting over it.” She groaned again, head hanging as teardrops fell to the floor.

“Tae and Jimin have been at odds for a very long time. And Jungkook...well… Kookie can be the absolute sweetest and smartest man you could meet. But when it comes right down to it the man is an actual blonde. I joke with him all the time they dipped his brain in bleach before they handed him off to his mother.”

Rose snorted, glancing up to me as she wiped her tears away. “Isn’t that all men though?”

The three of us giggled, sharing a moment of joined exasperation before sobering up as another crash echoed through the house.

“Alright, for real. Jin’s gonna cry if any more of his kitchen gets destroyed. Come on, help me up. I’ve got to end this.”

***

True to form the dumb asses were still fighting by the time we’d made it down the stairs. 

Jimin was off to the side, standing by the fridge as he screamed obscenities at Taehyung. Jungkook and Tae were on the floor, pulling at each other’s hair with their legs wrapped around one another to keep the other from escaping.

A massive bruise had bloomed just beneath Tae’s right eye and Jungkook’s lip was split and seeping blood all over.

“It’s all your fault Tae! Every time she’s gotten hurt it’s always you to blame!” Jimin screamed. He moved as if to launch himself into the scuffle but Hobi, who’d been watching from the stove reached over to stop him, effectively wrapping him in a bear hug and pinning his arms to his sides.

“Oh no you don’t Doc. We don’t need you getting hurt.”

“Let me go! Let me at him! This has been a long time coming Hobi!” The boy was basically foaming at the mouth, tears streaming down his cheeks as he struggled in the dancer’s hold.

I couldn’t help but sigh, knowing the only way to stop this was if I intervened. Glancing between Jeanette and Rose I shrugged them off, taking a step forward on my own and muttering under my breath. This was going to suck.

“Boys! Please! Stop this!” I yelled, internally cringing as my weight landed on my injured leg.

The offending limb buckled under the pressure, causing me to yelp out in pain as I staggered forward a half a step before falling to the ground. It was worth it though.

All activity in the room ceased. For a moment it was quiet as I lay there wheezing and whimpering in pain. And then chaos ensued.

From my vantage point I could see the boys scrambling to my side, Jungkook and Tae disentangling themselves from each other as Jimin and Hobi pushed each other out of the way in an attempt to reach my side. Jin, Namjoon, and Yoongi walked into the room just in time to see Rose and Jeanette reach me first, shooing the boys out of the way as they helped me into a sitting position.

“Fuck sake. What are you all in here tearing the place up for?” Namjoon growled, giving the younger boys the stink eye as Jimin crouched at my side to check my bandages.

“They’ve been arguing for the last hour, how have you all not noticed till now?” Hobi grumped as he stood to his feet and dusted off his jeans.

“Because unlike you idiots we’ve actually been doing something.” Seokjin frowned, leaning his broad shoulders against the doorframe as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“And what’s got the three of you so wrapped up in each other that you couldn’t notice the idiot brigade trying to off one another?” I huffed, pushing away the pain of my leg.

“Securing the satellite links, setting up better firewall protections for the security cameras.” Namjoon replied.

“Reinforcing the front gate, making sure our rear’s covered in terms of fortifications.” Yoongi added in.

“Adding more cameras to the sides of the house just to make sure we have every inch of the lawn and side yards covered.” Seokjin frowned, glancing at the three younger men. “I can’t believe the three of you are grown ass men. And to think one of you is in charge of giving me orders.”

He shook his head, eyes darting back and forth between them before landing on the mess that was his kitchen. It was almost comical the way his gaze went from mildly frustrated to all of a sudden full blown horror and betrayal.

“M...my… MY KITCHEN!!!”

The series of events that followed may have been comical but it certainly managed to squash the feud and rising tensions that’d settled over my boys in the time I’d been unconscious.

Jeanette and Rose managed to help me off the ground, settling me into a chair at the center island as Seokjin screamed and ranted about how ungrateful the younger men were while demanding they cleaned up their mess.

Jungkook and Taehyung actually managed to look ashamed and remorseful as they swept up the broken plates together and wiped down the counters before settling into mopping the entirety of the area. They stayed silent, barely glancing at each other or speaking until Jin tore into Namjoon who’d resigned himself to ‘helping’ cook breakfast before getting scolded about holding the knife upside down as he attempted to chop an onion.

“Ya! How can someone have such a high IQ and STILL not know the meaning for sharp side down?? All those brains and muscles and no common sense!” Jin’s face shone bright red as he screamed, barely stopping for breath as he smacked poor Namjoon over the head with a wooden spoon.

Taehyung snorted, Jungkook giggled, and after a shared look between them they burst out laughing, leaning against each other for support as they lost their minds over the sheer visual of the genius level man getting scolded by his elder.

Jimin all the while did his best to address my leg, crouching beneath the ledge of the island as he checked the skin above and  beneath the bandage.

“It hasn’t bled through, so the stitches are holding. But I really wish you would stay off it as much as possible.” He frowned up at me, tiny hands wrapped gently around my ankle as he balanced on his heels.

“I’m sorry Doc. It’s just, you all were so worked up over nothing and I just had to do something to get it to stop.” I shrugged, not sure if it was a valid enough reason for almost dislocating anything that was still left to injure.

“I mean, you could have just fired in the air or something. Thrown something at them, anything but literally throwing yourself to the ground and risking actually breaking something.”

“I could have sure. But that would have meant risking the ceiling and Yoongi’s room. Not about that life if I’m being honest.” I grinned at the doctor, earning myself an exasperated glare and a pat to my uninjured leg.

“Really, and here I thought you were the rational one in this group of misfits.” Jimin stood, brushing his pants off and then walking around the island to wash his hands at the sink.

“I may be irrational at times but at least I have the ability to forgive people.” My blunt words hit home. I could tell. He’d paused all motion, staring down at his hands as the water ran over his fingers.

I reached across, turning the sink off and folding my hands before me on the cool countertop. Patiently I waited, watching the emotions flit across his face faster than his expert fingers stitching up a wound.

“Jimin...we’re going to have to talk about this eventually.” I spoke calmly, knowing that anything could set him off if I misspoke.

“I know it’s just…”

“We were all attached. The first truly good thing to come out of all our awful work.” Pausing I focused for a moment on the tiny scrapes and scratches I’d gotten from being out in the thick of it.

“We got comfortable. All of us did. And sloppy. But Taehyung can’t be blamed for that. We were all at fault. But more importantly those bastards that kidnapped me and tried to hold me hostage were at fault.” I turned slightly, watching as the others went about their business.

“When it came down to it he had to make a choice. Yes we’re always family first but everything was on the line. Literally everything Jimin.” I turned back to him, watching the frown deepen his brow and tug that sweet face of his into a scowl. “If it weren’t for Taehyun,g half our crew would be dead or in jail. Including Namjoon and Jungkook. Do you think I’d have ever let him live it down if he had chosen any other way?”

He shook his head, tossing the towel in his hands on the counter. “No… No you’re right. You wouldn’t have. You’d have torn Daegu up, burned the whole city down.” He chuckled and I joined him, my shoulders shaking with the snickers joined between us.

“You’re not wrong. But considering the circumstances I didn’t need to do a thing. The city’s already burning.” The mood chilled at those words and we sat together in silence, watching the others fuss and fight over cooking and who was on dish duty.

“This could be the end days huh?”

Turning back to him I sighed, though the motion left me wincing at the pain in my chest. “That may be so… and if it is, if everything is ending and the world is burning...shouldn’t you go make up with your best friend?”

“...Yeah….yeah you’re right.” his eyes crinkled as he smiled at me, reaching across and giving my hand a squeeze. “Thank you for talking some sense into me.”

“Jungkook may be the brawn but we all know I’m the brains of the operation here.” I snorted at my own words. My heart warmed as I watched Jimin walk over to Tae and begin whispering softly to him.

Both men, grown as they were, became teary eyed, suddenly lunging forward and hugging each other as close as two men could.

“Damn, look at you.” Rose plopped into the chair beside me, nudging my arm as she grinned at the two now openly sobbing gangsters. “You get paid to be the family shrink?”

“Nah, they couldn’t afford me if I were to actually charge them.”

Jeanette ambled over, hand subconsciously rubbing her belly as she leaned into Rose who wrapped a gentle arm around her waist. “I don’t think even the richest man could afford your services. You really out here keeping these boys from killing each other and still surviving in this world? Absolute boss if you ask me.”

It felt good to laugh with them as we sat there. It’d been a good long while since I’d had female friends. Not that I didn’t love my boys but there was something about being around someone who got my mind without me having to say something that just felt so right.

Things settled down as we all gathered around to our meal, the chatter subdued and amiable as food was passed around in abundance. It would last us a while sure, but the idea that at some point it might run out had us all appreciating it that much more.

As I munched on my toast my mind wandered, but my thoughts were abruptly by Taehyung and Rose cheering as they jumped out of their chairs and began laughing and hugging each other.

“YAH! What the hell!” Jin demanded as he scrambled to wipe the juice he’d spilled on himself at the shock of their cheering.

“We did it!” Tae grinned, the biggest boxiest grin on his face as his ears blushed crimson from the kiss Rose had planted on his cheek.

“We managed to fix all of the security issues! Cams are on lock and all internal systems are now free of amature hour hack jobs!” Rose’s smile was infectious, cheering the whole table and causing the others to whoop and holler their appreciation for the two computer experts.

[carnelianns]

Guess who’s back, back again. Hiya hun! Could you do a scenario where Arthur, Leo and Theo find out MC is a sensitive crybaby? Like most of the time MC is a cool calm and collected but there are just some days where the smallest comment will make her burst into hysteric sobs. Anyway please and thank you hun😊

aaa i love ur requests (≧◡≦) ♡

Leonardo da Vinci

Many times has Leonardo fallen asleep whilst working on a new invention, head resting languidly on his arms in the midst of the scattered papers and machineries on his desk. 

Many times has he also awoken to said papers and machineries neatly set aside, a warm, pink blanket now resting on his broad shoulders and a pillow nestled in between his face and the hard wood of the desk.

His thoughts have drifted long and wide in his journey to figure out who his mysterious benefactor is, but Sebastian’s confirmation only leaves him, well, awed, for lack of better terms.

Because never did he expect for it to be you. It’s not a question of kindness, more of warmth — what can he expect from someone so cool and composed, after all? It’s frightening, actually; how you remind him so much of a certain poised friend he happens to have.

Which brings his mind racing when he hears your soft sniffles, or feels the slight drip of your tears on his back as you lay the familiar blanket on him. Why were you crying? Is it an impostor? Did something happen? Arthur cause you trouble again?

His thoughts are thwarted when you brush stray strands of his hair out of his face, still sniffling as you say, “Why do you overwork yourself so often, Leo?”

… What. “Cara mia.. Are you crying… because I fell asleep?”

Try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself from lifting him up and out of his small act, incredulous look turning into a wide grin at your surprised look, and the way you make no move to wipe the still-flowing tears.

“Yeah.”

Your reply is simple, Leonardo struggling to pick between laughing out loud or gaping at you. 

So he decides to do both. With his mouth wide open, he laughs, messily ruffling your hair. 

“You’re adorable, bambina, but it’s fine.” His large, calloused hands move from your hair down to your eyes, wiping away the salty tears flowing down your face. “A little overworking won’t kill me.” Far from it. 

Shaking your head defiantly, Leonardo’s eyes widen when you pull away, crossing your arms with a slight pout that only seems to surprise him more. 

“Don’t do it again.”

His mouth is agape for a while, before he scoffs slightly, “Heh. You drive a hard bargain.”

When his eyes catch the slight tremble in your bottom lip and the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes, Leonardo is quick to straighten.

Clearing his throat, he nods, “I won’t do it again.”

It’s silent for a moment before you give him one last sniffle, nod, then proceed to walk away, leaving a very confused Leonardo alone in his library. 

The dim lights of the room only do wonders to outline the slowly growing amusement on his face, if the smirk he’s sporting doesn’t get the point across. An intriguing little thing you are, really. 

Arthur Conan Doyle

“Awh, is my wee, little baby sad? Is she going to cry, now?” 

You sniffle, “Yeah.”

And Arthur was then faced with a sobbing mess of a girl he didn’t even think could cry. Ever-observant is he, though he failed to have noticed how sensitive you actually are, all until he’s witnessing it first hand.

Sure, he’s been faced with a handful of weeping patients, or some blubbering, past flings who thought they could have something more, but never really an Ice Queen like yourself breaking down because of his mere teasing.

“C-Christ,” he mumbles under his breath before crossing the distance between the two of you, hesitantly placing his hand on your shoulder.

When you make no move, he continues, stammering slightly, “I’m so, so sorry, love. Do you, uh, want a hug? Or – or do you want to.. slap me? I’m fine with that as well. We’re good acquaintances; the female hand and I, y’know..?”

He’s then met with a light slap to his face — more of a tap, really. Arthur isn’t expecting for your arms to find purchase around his waist immediately after, leaving him as stiff as a scarecrow when they do. 

When the more logical part of his brain — the one that isn’t going haywire at the current events — finally kicks in, he’s wrapping an arm around your waist, his other hand softly caressing your head as he whispers nothing but sweet apologies into your ear.

Your name gently makes its way out of his lips, in a way you’re sure will be stuck in the back of your head.

“I apologise, I truly do, love. For the teasing, and for calling you a baby, and for, uh, everything else. Please forgive me?”

You pull away after a while, ignoring the lack of warmth in your body as you avert your gaze, hastily wiping away the remnants of your breakdown.

“No snitching, Arthur.”

He smirks, seemingly reverting back to normal as he pinches your cheeks like one does a child’s. “Of course not, darling.”

Arthur won’t admit that the image of you crying haunts him, or that he’s now awfully more cautious with his teasing jabs at you. 

Theodorus van Gogh

Theo woke up this morning to prepare for a journey to scout a place for Vincent’s newest exhibition — certainly not to witness you transform into a blubbering mess he has to clean up. 

In hindsight, he does admit the comment he threw your way was a bit harsher than usual — can’t help it, he’s stressed — but never did he expect you to actually burst out crying. 

Stiffness seizing his limbs, he awkwardly clears his throat, having thought three minutes is far too long a time to still be staring at you.

“Hon—” Stopping to recalculate his words, he nods slightly at himself, “Uh, girl…”

You look up at him, quieting down, his cerulean orbs meeting your puffy eyes. Okay. Now what the fuck do I do. 

“I’m sorry.. for calling you a troublesome shit goblin..?” 

You blink for a moment, inhaling. Then burst out into an even louder, blubbering mess that only has Theo wide-eyed and jaw slacked, distraughtly running his fingers through already-messy locks. 

Not once has he seen a crack in your unperturbed armour, and to see you like this, well — he feels horrible, if the regret coursing through his veins is anything to go by. 

“Hondje,” he lifts your chin up with his knuckle, moving both hands to cup your tear-stricken face. Wiping the tears away with long, lithe fingers, Theo looks straight into your eyes, “I’m sorry, okay? I hate seeing you like this, so… Stop crying? Please?”

The genuine concern in those bright eyes causes you to reduce your sobs to sniffles, the both of you staying in that exact position until you finally calm down, nodding in an attempt to ask him to let go. 

Theo’s hands linger on your surprisingly warm face for a few more moments before he retracts them, an awkward silence filling the room.

“... Don’t tell anyone what you saw today, Theo,” you utter, though he finds it hard to take your red nose and even redder eyes seriously. 

He scoffs, rolling his eyes and midway to snarking out another comment when he sees your fidgeting stance. 

Softening, he sighs, messing with his blowsy locks once more. “Of course not. Just leave already, yeah?”

He half-heartedly shoos you away, eyes following your leaving form all the way out of the living room. 

“... Kindje,” he mumbles to himself, proceeding to walk in the opposite direction of the one you left in. A complete and utter baby.

[satoruvt]

for now; forever -- teaser

pairing → kwon soonyoung x reader

word count → 1316 (full fic is ~9k!!)

genre → mostly fluff? a solid amount of angst ↳ tags: ooh boy. firewatch au, banter, like a little bit (a lot) of pining, strangers to friends to... something, FLIRTING, reader’s kinda fucked up but its ok, hoshi’s weird and endearing (as always), a tiny bit of hurt/comfort, minghao best boy, soonyoung is very sweet it makes me want to cry

synopsis → after an unfortunate burnout that lands you in every critic’s negative and all-seeing eye, you decide to take a break from the one thing you know. you’re not sure if you’ll find what you’re looking for out in the middle of the woods - if you’re looking for anything at all - but at the very least, soonyoung will make the hunt a little less lonely. 

warnings → there’s eventually a forest fire that leads to an evacuation but it’s not super detailed, mentions and descriptions of creative burnout/breakdown

a/n → AHHHH!!!! so excited to finally tell yall abt this ive been working on it for about a month now <33 the teaser is just like an honestly solid section of the fic itself, so. idk yeah!!!! i’m very excited i loved working on this i still have some editing to go but the full thing will be out soon <333 hope you enjoy!! let me know what u thought!!!!

DAY ONE.

So. You’re… out here, now.

Save for the bugs you have to swat at every fifteen seconds, the outdoors don’t seem that bad. The weather isn’t too hot (yet, your mind reminds you) and there’s something about the color of the sky that makes your heart constrict in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s good or bad, but given your luck recently, you’re hoping it’s not a warning for the coming months - God knows you need a break. The weight of the journal in your bag feels heavier than any of the camping gear you brought with you.

You debate texting Minghao that you’ve made it to the park safely, but when you check your phone after deciding yes, you see the words no service instead of the familiar lines of a signal. It’s not that big of a deal - you’d told him when you left that you probably wouldn’t have service at all - but a little part of you feels the tender shake of anxiety at the thought of not being able to contact your best friend. 

He was the most worried out of everyone when you told him you were leaving for the summer. You can’t really blame him - it was abrupt, you saw the flyer at the grocery store and took it - but after what happened… doing something felt, feels, better than sitting around and waiting for nothing to happen. Waiting for a healing you aren’t sure will ever come, at least not completely.

“Is this really…” Minghao had started upon first entering your apartment after getting your text. Clothes were thrown all over your bedroom floor in an attempt to pack. “Do you need to do this?”

The tone of his voice told you he wasn’t going to try to stop you, that he just wanted to make sure this was what you needed, what was best for you. You had only nodded, sitting down on the edge of your bed to fold clothes and pack them into your suitcase.

“I just don’t want you to run away from it all,” Minghao said softly, sitting next to you. “You’ll need to face it eventually.”

“Is escaping really such a bad thing?” You asked, looking at Minghao. He gave you the look he did when you said something stupid, and if you weren’t still so wired from everything, you might have laughed. Instead, you sighed, placing a pair of pants into your suitcase. “I just need some time.”

Before you can face it, before you can come back, before you can write again… you still don’t know. Minghao had placed a kind hand on your shoulder to tell you there was no rush.

It’d taken no more than two days for you to get everything ready - including buying some apparently necessary survival equipment from Target. In a matter of a few hours you had gathered everything up, texted some other friends and your family that you might not be available the next few months and then… you left. 

(Your manager was pretty pissed off that you left so suddenly, but she was also pissed off at you when you told her you needed a break for at least a few weeks, so you’re not really offended.)

You take one last longing look at your car before locking it, pocketing the keys, and starting on your hike.

The hike takes almost the whole day. 

You think you almost cry when you finally see the watch tower you’re supposed to be staying in, your legs barely able to hold the rest of your body up. The hike wasn’t hard, really - long, though, and for someone who usually spends a work day sitting at a desk, you’re surprised you’re still alive. You find the little lock that holds the keys to the tower at the bottom of the stairs, fastened onto the railing. It takes a few seconds for you to enter the code you’d been given earlier, relishing in the soft breeze the cools the sweat on your face and neck. The sun is just barely starting to set beyond the mountains, a beautiful sight that you can’t properly focus on because all you want to do is pass out. You’re pretty sure you almost do on your way up the stairs.

The cabin at the top of the tower is pretty scarcely furnished, save for a few basic necessities (a gas stove rests on one wall, a small desk opposite to it by the door, a mini-fridge, and a bed in the corner plus what looks like a map table in the center of the room). It’s a little weird, a feeling caught between the nostalgia of moving into a new place and something you can’t quite name, but you figure you have a few months to make it all a little more comfortable.

For now, though, you feel like you’re on the last leg of your energy. Your mind is saying eat, sleep, eat, sleep on repeat and you have to agree with it, so you change the sheets on the bed, take down the boards over the windows while you wait for the macaroni from the Kraft box to cook. You end up eating a few forkfuls of poorly-made mac and cheese before crashing.

When you wake up, it’s to gentle static and a semi-clear, unfamiliar voice. It takes you a minute to remember where you are and what you’re doing, too disoriented to even think about the voice, but then - oh. Forest. Watch tower. Escape. Okay.

“Yo, Cottonwood! Am I coming through okay? Pick up your radio!”

Right. The voice. Radio?

“Come on, I saw you get in yesterday, I know you’re there. Unless,” a gasp, “you died! Oh my God, this is like a horror movie… and I’m next!”

You manage to wake up enough to locate your radio (a walkie-talkie resting on a charger on the desk) and, after a few seconds of gentle struggle, work it. “Not dead,” you say, then clear your throat because your voice does not sound good right after waking up. “I mean… almost. But not dead.”

There’s barely a moment of hesitation before the person on the other end hoots, apparently excited. “Arisen from the dead! Brought back to life by none other than the legendary Hoshi!”

A brief thought crosses your mind about having to listen to this guy all summer, but you quickly shoo it away. You won’t have to deal with it for the whole three months, right? “Who… who is Hoshi?”

“Me!” The voice answers, sounding a little too smug. “But it’s really just an alias. You can call me Soonyoung. I’m at Twin Peaks tower, west of yours!”

You spin around your cabin, looking through the windows cluelessly - how long have you been asleep, it’s practically afternoon - until you see a very small silhouette of another tower in the distance. You nod, then realize Soonyoung can’t see you. “Oh. Cool.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?” Soonyoung asks, but his tone is light, breezy. You blink, reciting your name to him in a daze. “Pretty! So, what brings you out here?”

You weren’t expecting that question. “What?”

Soonyoung giggles into the radio. “Everyone comes out here for some reason. Like… Jihoon says it’s ‘cause it helps him write music. And Joshua loves the outdoors, so… what’s your reason?”

“You…” you start, not exactly wanting to tell a stranger the reason you ran away from everything you know. “Do you normally ask this many questions?”

“Yeah!”

You feel yourself sigh, already tired again.

“I… just wanted to get away for a while,” you end up saying. A half-truth. “I live in the city.”

“No way,” Soonyoung gasps excitedly. “Me too! I wonder if both of us have ever been walking and, like, passed each other without knowing…”

This isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you thought of escaping.

[timextoxhajima]

Playlist Feels

*SHORT SERIES 

Part 1: I Never Wanna See You Again

Member: *screaming* Lee JuyeON

Genre: angst, fluff, romance, chaebol/lawyer juyeon, and... smut????

Links to other parts:

I Never Wanna See You Again

~

Love Somebody (light smut)

Play With Fire (smut) 

“you’re a fucking lawyer.”

a soft chuckle escapes your ceo’s lips as he turns away, signalling to a staff you didn’t even notice standing in the corner of the living room.

“can i get two cups of tea please? thank you.”

you look at him, completely stunned and at a loss of words.

all this time, you just thought he was making you do all the work while he hid in the office. sunwoo and eric even made jokes about him jerking off in his big ol’ fancy chair...

when he was working on parts of the case that even you were blind to.

everything you did and researched on were just the basic facts and details he needed before he could pull out any more in-depth information and evidence to help you win the case.

and it hurt to know that there was no way you could’ve done it.

“do tell me when you’re done being surprised. we’ve got a lot to discuss about this case,” he comments emptily, not even looking at you while he pulls your file over for him to read.

“i’m sorry, but what the fuck?” you blurt out, completely forgetting that you were sitting right in front of the man who could fire you instantly. you should’ve shut up after the first time you called him a ‘fucking lawyer’, but you nearly regret it the moment you cursed again.

“you really need to work on your people’s skills,” he smirks, eyes still focused on the files. “you may be capable of clearing cases, especially for a newbie, but if you go off cursing in every line that comes out of your mouth, it becomes a valid reason for me to fire you. i can’t have you spitting those curse words in court.”

shut up or ask him again?

shut up or ask him why he hasn’t showed up in office for the last six months?

shut up or ask him why he hasn’t told anybody he’s a lawyer when the entire office is scared shitless of him and has no clue who he even i--

“what the fuck?”

your ceo sighs and drops his head a little, his hold on the sheets of paper loosening as he looks at you through the corners of his eyes.

“you know the entire office is either scared of you or hates you because everybody thinks you’re just...” you aggressively flail your hand around. “doing nothing.”

“aaaand may i know who exactly is ‘scared of me or hates me’?” he raises a brow. 

“i don’t know-- like every newbie is afraid to ask about you. i asked lee jaehyun and he shooed me away--”

“ah, that man kept his word.”

you frown, your confusion reaching a new height you never thought was possible.

“damn, now i owe him a trip to japan.”

“a trip to jap-- it was a bet?!” you nearly yell, but the staff arriving with your tea urges you to collect yourself for the umpteenth time today. 

and it wasn’t even 10 yet.

“finally a sentence without a curse word,” he says while nodding at the staff member. 

“what did you bet on?! whether he could keep his mouth shut about who you really are?! it doesn’t answer anything about why you’ve never stepped foot into the office, or why you act like an ass, or why you don’t even mention the fact that you’re a lawyer yourself--”

“whoa, whoa, whoa.”

you calm down from your high, not noticing that your voice was gradually getting louder. you couldn’t believe it. you felt so played by this man that you had nothing to say. 

it’s not like he did anything that actually hurt you or anything, but the fact that the entire office was so terrified of him or that nobody has said anything about him... when it was all a lie? 

“need i remind you, again, that i can fire you?” he leans back into his seat, hand holding the tea cup and you suddenly take note of how small the china looks in his hand. 

you swallow your saliva, noticing that your throat was dry and your heart was pounding in your chest. 

“if you must know, lee jaehyun was my senior when we were in law school. so yes, i had a bet with him to say that he wouldn’t be able to keep it to himself. my real identity, of course. he begged everyone else in the office whom i’ve met before to keep quiet about it. he would win once a newbie figures out that i’m a lawyer, which i guess he did.”

you could feel multiple question marks ascend from the top of your head. 

that was one problem down, but what about him MIA-ing for six months? what about him being such an asshole?

“now, can we get back to the case? i got my cousin to get you here to discuss more about the case, not to let you remind me that i lost a bet to jaehyun hyung.”

his what--

“yes, your manager is my cousin. now get a hold of yourself and let’s get this done with, please?”

you were so not used to him saying please after the last conversation you had with him was him asking you to get out of his office with his eyes. 

you try your best to wipe away all the questions that were being scribbled across the whiteboard in your head while he begins discussing the case with you. he points out little details and facts that linked in ways you never could’ve thought of. 

you were scribbling and writing notes in your own notebook while your ceo talks you through the whole ordeal. you throw out some ideas for defense and he does the same. you wonder if you’d ever have these in-depth discussions about a difficult case with sunwoo or chanhee or eric, ever. 

you were so absorbed in the case that you found yourself barefooted now, toes digging into the rug and you were now seated on the soft material between the sofa and the table. you don’t even notice until a staff member comes by your ceo and looks at you strangely. 

the staff bows and announces that lunch is ready as you struggle to your feet, embarrassed that you’ve completely made yourself at home in the middle of his living room. 

“oooh, what’s for lunch?” your ceo looks up at the staff member with puppy eyes, and it makes your gut churn. who is this man and what did he do with my ceo?

“three course meal, including ribeye steak with mushroom sauce and lobster, mr lee.”

you shoot your ceo a look of shock at the sound of the menu. 

“done by mrs jung, i assume?” he raises a brow, now standing up and patting down his black blazer, buttoning the base of his clothes. you fit your heels onto your feet, and you couldn’t help but wonder if the lunch had been catered for you, or he was going to kick you out of his penthouse.

you liked the first option, though the second would be more realistic and at least it’ll tell you that your ceo hasn’t been kidnapped and replaced by aliens. 

“yes, mr lee. she also prepared a red for you to pair with the steak, but she’s aware that you have a guest and you tend to be more particular about it when you do.”

your ceo turns to look at you, and you swore a small smile appeared on his lips at the sight of you awkwardly sitting on the sofa. 

“open the 1950 Chateau Latour,” he instructs the staff member, leaning forward to the table and carefully gathering the sheets of paper. he looks at you again, looking like he was making a decision in his head. 

“and get me a pair of house slippers for her. i don’t want her heels making noises all around the house.”

you let everything go with the flow, and soon you found your heels being taken away into some secret storage room near the lift. your feet were then presented with a pair of cotton slippers you’ve never felt so comfortable in. you were so happily engrossed in the attention of the house staff that were helping you that you don’t realise your ceo already ran off to somewhere else in the penthouse. 

you were aggressively thanking the staff for giving you the most comfortable slippers ever when you see him emerge from a hallway behind the kitchen you didn’t even notice from before. he was leaning against the corner of the wall, head resting on the brown surface as he watched you awkwardly bow to the staff members and childishly slide your way over to him.

you had no clue how you were so comfortable in his house. maybe it was the difference in the way he treated his own staff, and maybe it was the way they treated you that made you feel so at home. 

sure, you weren’t used to such a pampered lifestyle, but you expected worse. 

“i thought i was going to need a microphone to get you to come eat,” your ceo pushes himself off the wall and keeps his arms folded across his chest. standing right next to him made you feel kind of short, now that you weren’t wearing your heels. you back up a little, suddenly letting the fact that you were in your ceo’s house get to your head. 

“sorry.”

you hear him offer a tiny laugh under his breath, and you watch as his feet turn away and walk down the hallway. you trail after him, now only noticing that there was a single pair of doors to the right, between two family portraits.

you try to make out the faces under the dim, amber lighting now that you were away from the glass window, but he pushes the door open to a dining room. beyond the large table was a similar glass panel, but right above your heads hung a gorgeous chandelier with the light from outside reflecting off the crystals and painting diamonds on the walls. 

your ceo strolls in, and you follow closely behind, eyes still adjusting to all the details in the dining area. 

“you really didn’t need to be so extravagant with lunch and all--” you try to show your appreciation as the staff pulls out the chairs for the two of you and lay a napkin in your lap. 

“save it,” he interrupts. again, he wasn’t looking at you, but nodding at the staff members for helping him with the chair and the napkin. “i don’t have people over often because i don’t like it. today was just an exception because i had an important call to make and other things to attend to that i couldn’t do in office without losing my bet.”

an awkward pause. 

“and i feel bad for making you leave office just to accommodate me, so take this as a token of appreciation or gratitude or whatever you want to believe it is.”

you stifle a smile, but fail miserably. 

maybe an alien really kidnapped your boss, but you liked this version better anyway. 

you expected lunch to be boring and quiet, but all he does is call out for different staff members and offer them bits and pieces of his food, even asking mrs jung, the chef, to whip up snacks and dishes for them to eat. 

you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t heartwarming to see this side of him. 

you see him laugh and smile while communicating with his staff members, and they genuinely looked happy to be here. you’d totally expect them to be scared or worried about making a mistake, but never does your boss once falter even when one of the staff member nearly drops a plate while clearing them off the table. 

you were finally done with dessert and you could feel your pants tighten around your waist as you sit up. your boss was just calmly wiping his mouth with the napkin before politely handing it over to a staff member to clear. 

soon, you found yourself back in his living room, tummy filled and heart satisfied. your boss was nowhere to be seen, and you assume he was off chit-chatting with the staff members. the food coma was slowly sinking in and the warmth from the wine was making you more comfortable, when the same staff from before you gave you the slippers showed up next to the sofa with a set of clothes. 

“miss?”

you jerk at the call, and you immediately sit up. 

“uh...” you blink, confused at the sight. you were starting to think this was all a dream and that none of it was real. maybe the coffee you had a little off was wonky and now you’re just hallucinating--

“i told mr lee that you looked uncomfortable... so i asked him if it was okay that we got you a more comfortable set.”

“oh!” you exclaim in surprise. you hop to your feet, unsure if you should take the clothes. “i... wouldn’t it be strange if i did...?”

“it’ll be worse if he catches you being uncomfortable, trust me.” she smiles at you, kindly stretching the clothes out to you. 

it was so strange, and you don’t think the word “strange” would’ve cut it. 

the clothes fit you almost perfectly, the staff were working around you like you lived here, and your boss was nowhere in sight. 

it’s almost like you walked into an alternate dimension and you were just living a life that you could only dream of. 

you walk out of the over-sized walk-in wardrobe and bathroom after the staff makes sure you’re comfortable and return to the living room, the case files still strewn about and his stacked nicely. a staff was waiting by the sofa, so you could only guess that he must’ve had some kind of message from your boss.

“mr lee will be stuck in his office for most of his day. he has requested for you to stay for as long as you need before you finish whatever you need to do with the case files. here’s a note that he told me to pass to you.”

the information and the rest of the ideas you need to connect the dots and wrap up the case are all already in the file. whatever you told me this morning made sense so i trust that you’ll be able to finish up on your own.

i’ve already informed mrs jung of your possible stay for dinner, so stay if you work past 8pm.

if you live too far away and you’re uncomfortable with taking public transport home, you can stay over for the night if you need to as well. 

my staff and chauffeurs get off work at 6pm so i’m not going to ask them to send you home. 

you look up at the staff member, for the umpteenth time today, wondering: what the fuck?

you sigh to yourself as the staff member leaves you with all the work on the table. the obligation to finish whatever you could today washes over you as you realise what you were really here to do.

he never wanted to take credit for your work. instead, he was letting you take his. as you scan through all his notes and research, you realise that it was more than enough to help you close the case, even if you didn’t win it. 

there was no name on any of his research papers, compared to your worksheets that he made you write your name on every day. so if you were to compile all the information yourself, he was giving you the green light of finishing the case on your own.

you couldn’t help but to let the guilt grow inside you, as you realise that you had been so easily fooled by the way he treated you. though it made no sense that he was such a horrible boss on first sight, you come to terms with the fact that maybe he wasn’t that bad after all. 

LATER THAT EVENING

you jerk awake at one of those strange sensations of falling in your sleep, then it hits you. 

you fell asleep. 

your neck was aching, and you pull away from the table, the sheets of paper stuck to your arms as you shift yourself from the horrible sleeping position. the sky outside was darkening, leaving only red and orange streaks across the sky. you look down at your work, letting the satisfaction fill your lungs once you realised that you were done with the case. 

even if you lost, it was because the stupid company thought doing whatever it did was a good idea. 

but with your boss’ workings, you might actually have a shot at winning the case.

you struggle to your feet, noticing the lack of commotion around the house. you search for a clock somewhere, and it was already past 6.15pm, which meant all the house staff were gone. 

the house was so quiet, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he ever felt lonely living here on his own. 

such a big space, but for one person only. 

you remember the portraits outside the dining hall, so you don’t hesitate to stride over in your comfy cotton slippers, in your warm clothes provided by him to check out the portraits. 

you squint your eyes, the terrible lighting ridding you of any ability to actually see anything constructive out of the portraits. you didn’t want to turn on the lights because you didn’t want to get caught snooping around in his house, but the light flickers on anyway, and you raise your arm in a bid to shield your eyes from the sudden illumination.

“had a nice nap?” you look to your left where the living room area was, and he was changed out of his black fitting, now in a more comfortable blazer and cotton shirt and what looked like... joggers?

“thank you...” you quietly say, your hands fiddling with each other on your stomach. “for your workings and pointers.”

he tilts his head upwards a little at your display of gratitude, his eyes travelling from you to the portraits that he had caught you staring at just moments ago.

“you want to know why i wasn’t in office for the last six months since he handed me the law firm?”

you look up at his question, taken aback that he would even bring it up. 

“it’s because i didn’t want it. he gave it to me without telling me, but i was ready to run off a live a life for myself. i’ve already arranged for myself to go overseas and do charity work for the next year at the point of time he said he wanted to let go of the firm. i said, ‘no, you’ve worked so hard for it’. and the next day, he signs everything to me.”

you listen carefully, hearing an unfamiliar tone in his voice. he went from slightly spiteful, to sad, to obligatory, and you could tell just how mixed his emotions were. you turn to look at the portraits, and you now see that they were portraits of him and his family. 

“after he gave me the firm, i moved out here alone. i couldn’t stand the sight of him because he just went ahead and did something he knew i didn’t want to do. he knew i just wanted to do charity and work on that, not take over his law firm. in the end, i left and i was away in countries like cambodia, myanmar and other countries helping to build schools and hospitals.”

you return your attention to him, failing to notice that he was now only about a metre away from you. your hands hug your torso as you search his face for any more emotion than the one he had plastered on for the last few minutes. 

“so you spent six months away, doing charity work... and you came back because of obligation.”

your words seem to strike a chord in him, because he immediately looks away, almost like he realised he had been seen through. 

he sucks in a deep breath, running his hand through his now soft, un-waxed hair. 

“i’m sorry, for being such an ass when we first met,” he looks at you with the same movement as he always does: looking at your through the corners of his eyes. “i was just angry and frustrated at how things turned out, and now i’m stuck with this stupid law firm just ‘cause i said he worked so hard for it.”

you offer him a weak smile, reaching out carefully to pat him on the shoulder. it was awkward, but you could only hope it brought him comfort. 

what you don’t prepare yourself for was when he shifts forward, suddenly connecting his lips to yours. 

you shiver upon the contact, pulling away in surprise as your eyes scan his for any sign of remorse or regret. 

your heart was racing and you’ve got absolutely no clue why. 

was it the way his eyes were digging your soul out of your body? was it the way you felt so comfortable around him today, despite him being a mean shit to you the day you met him? 

but almost instinctively, you reach up and wrap your hands around the back of his neck to pull him in again, this time shutting your eyes as you tasted him. 

he shoves you against the wall, hand behind your head so you don’t injure yourself and he picks you up, using the wall as support to keep your legs wrapped around his waist. 

the kisses were sharp, harsh, hungry.

never in a million years were you expecting this. 

his fingers dig into your hips and trails them along your legs, pushing them inwards so they were securely wrapped around his waist as he walks the both of you to the living room. 

you wonder how he was able to gently lay you on the sofa despite your body weight clinging to his torso, but he does it anyway and every thought disappears from your head when he plants soft kisses on your neck. his hands were roaming your stomach and looking for your hips, holding them up as he set his pelvis between your thighs. 

you could feel his bulge growing under the material as he kissed and nibbled on the skin of your neck, careful not to leave any marks. 

“if you’re not okay with this, please tell me.” he whispers into your ear, stopping for a moment. 

“i’m fine. i’m just... surprised, that’s all.”

he pulls back and looks at you with eyes that you’d be afraid of two weeks ago, but now all they do is create more butterflies in your stomach. 

“i just... it’s been so long since someone’s seen through me like this. after sang yeon told me about you working till late... and that you look tired even at work but you never once fall asleep... it reminded me of me when i first became a lawyer.”

your heart shatters at his little speech, and your hand reaches up to brush his cheek. 

“watching you work reminded me of why i even became a lawyer. you... you’re my restart button, and you make me want to work again.”

a smile breaks out on your lips and tears threaten to collect in your eyes. the sincerity in his voice was what told you that this man was vulnerable after all. you offer him comfort by pulling his face down and kissing him, letting fate decide whatever should happen next...

you were jerked awake for the second time that evening, but this time you were in juyeon’s arms, skin against skin under the blanket that you don’t even remember seeing even while he fucked you mindlessly against his expensive couch. 

you let the sound process in your brain, when you realise your phone was going off in your suitcase. 

juyeon wakes up from his lazy slumber too, grabbing his bottoms and pulling them on carelessly while he heads for your suitcase. his eyes were still closed when he picks up the call, and you couldn’t help but admire his back muscles.

“hello? oh, yeah. no, she’s not kidnapped, she’s still with me. yeah... no... yes, it’s your boss...”

your eyes widen once you realise who was on the other end of the line. you wrap the blanket around yourself and surge forward to snatch the phone away from juyeon and you press the phone to your ear without thinking twice.

“chanhee...”

“okay... WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Part 3: Love Somebody