#they call me up to tell me the cold brew machine is broke (why is there a machine. just brew the coffee cold)

[blowmymongrelmind]

im gonna die right at the table of this cafe, in protest

[loeyparker]

right where you left me - p.p. 2/?

summary: trust issues surface and you spend the day bonding. Peter should probably tell you about Gwen, right?

pairing: andrew!peter parker x f!reader

word count: 7k

tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, angst, set before, during & after nwh, good ol’ mutual pining, mentions of violence, nwh spoilers

a/n: seeing you guys enjoying the first part of the story made me truly happier than anything and I can't even begin to thank you enough !! so here's some pals being pals who build trust and show a little too much affection for a couple of friends. nwh spoilers close to the end!! 

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Glass shattering outside your bedroom woke you up.

Instinctively, you opened the drawer of your nightstand and took out your gun. With swift, silent steps, you approached the door. A soft creak came through as you opened it, but the noise was muffled by loud sounds coming from your living room.

Within seconds, you jumped out of the bedroom to face the danger, gun drawn.

Peter was on the ground, trying to untangle his right leg from the wire of a chord. The framed picture you kept forgetting to hang on the wall now laid on the floor, lost amongst shards of glass. The window was wide open, allowing a gust of cold wind to creep up your bare legs.

Peter froze, then looked up, feeling your presence.

His eyebrows shot up. “Gun, again?”

You sighed and unloaded your weapon, placing it on the coffee table. “You expect me to sing a song when I think someone broke into my house?”

“I’m …” Peter moved his leg quickly, detangling it. Then he shot up to his feet. “I don't know the layout yet, I tripped coming in.” He spoke quickly, fairly embarrassed.

You glanced at the open window again. “Where did you go at 8 in the morning?” You folded your arms to your chest.

Peter bent down to pick a paper bag off the floor, which he then held up triumphally. “I got breakfast – croissants.” A proud smile bloomed on his face.

You shook your head but smiled nonetheless. “You can put them in the kitchen” you walked towards another door close to the entrance that Peter had somehow missed. Out of a small room, you took out a broom and dustpan. “I’ll be right with you.”

“No, no, no” Peter spoke quickly, placing the bag of croissants on the coffee table next to the gun, then rushing in front of you. “I broke it, I’ll clean it.”

“Peter, it’s fine – “

“No, I insist.” He slowly grabbed the cleaning tools out of your hands. Normally you wouldn’t give up this easy but truth be told, you were still sleepy. “You go make some coffee.” He spoke looking down at you with a lazy smile.

You bowed your head jokingly, then saluted. “Yes, sir.” Turning on your heels, you grabbed the food and tip-toed into the kitchen to avoid any stray shards of glass.

Peter swept the living room fighting back a smile the whole time.

You placed the croissants on a plate, then set up a pot of coffee to brew. Meanwhile, you took Peter’s suit out of the watching machine and draped it over a radiator for it to dry.

The faint sound of your ringtone coming from the bedroom made you sigh loudly. Peter looked up from his cleaning task when he heard your rushed steps hitting the hardwood floors. He watched you dash into your room, then smelled the fresh coffee being brewed.

“Yes?” Peter heard your quiet voice, muffled by the walls and distance between you two. “Are you serious? It’s my day off.”

A pause.

Peter really didn’t mean to eavesdrop - but he was curious.

“My job is Spider-Man, not Peter Parker. I don’t think an investigation should be launched into the reason why he’s visiting his aunt.”

Peter straightened his back. The smile on his face quickly went away, replaced by a stoic expression. His jaw clenched as he glanced at your gun on the coffee table. He looked back down at the shards of glass as you walked out of the bedroom.

“Fine, I’ll look into it.” You ended the call in the kitchen before pouring fresh, hot coffee into two mugs.

Peter walked in right as you sat on one of the two seats at your small, round kitchen table. Looking up you noticed he stayed in the doorway, leaning his shoulder against it. His arms were folded to his chest, his face hardened.

You frowned.

Your fingers stopped stirring the teaspoon into your coffee.

“What?” You asked.

His eyes were fixed on you, no trace of softness in them. His forehead was riddled with creases as he frowned. His lips were glued in a straight line.

“Are you some sort of Spider-Man hunter or something?” He asked.

“A what?”

“It would make sense.” Traces of anger seeped through Peter’s veins as he thought about it, as he doubted his trust in you. “Why you have a gun, why you lied about being a cop, why you shot me, why you “know Spider-Man” “ he quoted you at the end.

His tone was accusatory.

Truthfully, he felt kind of stupid in that very moment. Because last night he dropped into another world and put his trust into the very first person he met, just because she was pretty and quick witted. He allowed his heart to fall into a trap just because you touched his face so tenderly that he woke up feeling the ghost of your fingers still on his skin.

He even went out to get you croissants when he didn’t even know who you were.

“What’s gotten into you?” You still hadn’t gotten up from your seat.

“Your job is Spider-Man? The hell does that mean?” He took a large step into the room, hands rising to his sides, questionably.

You frowned. “I work for S.H.I.E.L.D in the superhero division and I’m the agent responsible for Spider-Man.” You explained, calmly. “I don’t hunt him, I … track him. But he signed the Sokovia Accords and gave consent for it. And he’s an Avenger so technically, he works with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

You didn’t blame Peter for being doubtful and suspicious of you. He’d known you for less than 24h in which you shot and threatened him – lack of trust was to be expected.

“I don’t know what any of that means.” Peter deadpanned.

You got up and grabbed something off the counter, handing it to him.

Peter held the grey and blue lanyard, inspecting it. On the front was the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo and a personal code. Turning the metallic lanyard over, Peter was met by an official-looking photo of you. Against a dark grey background, you stood with a small smile on your face. Curtain bangs framed your face, long waves hung over your shoulders. Your name was written in bold letters by the picture, along with a LEVEL 6 by its side. Underneath, a special section categorized you as an agent.

“What’s S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Peter didn’t look up from your picture. There wasn't a drastic difference between the picture and the woman standing in front of him. They both still looked the same age - but in the picture your hair was longer, there were no traces of tiredness on your face and your eyes seemed brighter.

The girl in the picture seemed happier, more excited for a future that would end up breaking her spirit.

“Stands for Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division.”

“Damn.” Peter finally looked back at you. He preferred the acronym, he decided.

You smiled. “We’re basically the line between the world and … a weirder world – whether that’s enhanced individuals, sorcerers or aliens. We try to protect people.” You spoke as you sat down and grabbed one of Peter’s croissants. “It was S.H.I.E.L.D. who created the Avengers – it was an Avenger who helped Peter, my Peter become Spider-Man.”

Peter’s eyes softened. He fought back the urge to ask about sorcerers and aliens, instead waiting for you to finish.

“I don’t hunt Spider-Man. I just keep track of him – that’s my job, I do it so civilians feel safe.” You continued. “And I actually try to protect Peter as best as I can. I’ve been keeping his identity on the down low until he got exposed – “

“Peter got exposed?” Peter asked, eyes wide. He pulled out a chair and sat down next to you.

“Yeah, a guy he fought framed him for murder by naming him as his killer on national TV.”

Peter leaned back into his chair, shocked. He could even feel a headache forming. Then, he frowned. “So everyone knows Spider-Man is Peter Parker in this world?”

You nodded, lips pursed.

“That must be horrible for him – do you know him personally?” He spoke quickly.

“Yeah.” You smiled softly, gaze lowering to your coffee cup. “I actually used to babysit him when I was in high school.”

Peter laughed. “No way.” And just like that, his traces of doubt had vanished. It was strange, how easy it was for him to believe you, to eat up every word you said. But the more he looked at you, at your messy bed hair, bare face and sincere eyes, the more he felt at ease.

“Yeah, sometimes I wonder if S.H.I.E.L.D. recruited me because of my skills or because I knew Spider-Man.” You spoke with a strained laugh, one that made Peter want to reach out for you. “Or because my dad died in action and Fury felt bad.”

Peter just assumed Fury was your boss. “Your dad was an agent too?” He asked quietly.

You nodded, picking at the croissant. “He was killed by Hydra ten years ago, which is crazy to say in 2024, by the way.” Frustration seeped through your words. Looking back up at Peter, you grimaced. “Sorry, I keep mentioning confusing things.”

“I’ll just assume Hydra is bad, you don’t have to go into detail.”

“Yeah, they’re Nazis.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Okay so, definitely bad guys. Horrible people.”

“You have Nazis in your world?” You asked, surprised.

“Hitler is very much a person in my world, yeah.” Peter nodded.

“I can’t believe the thing our worlds have in common are Nazis.”

Peter puffed, then apologized for laughing because that was not funny. You finally took a bite out of the croissant, hunger getting the best of you. Peter grabbed his coffee mug and took a sip.

You watched his every move.

“So, I’m curious now.” Peter began, changing his seating position. He now sat sideways on his chair, arm draped the backrest. He was fully facing you, his knees almost touching the side of your right bare thigh. Your eyes kept stealing glances at his arm resting over the chair because his bicep pushed against the backrest, making his muscles stand out even more. “Did Hitler fund Hydra?” Peter asked.

“Pretty much. And S.H.I.E.L.D was formed as a reaction to Hydra.” You replied.

Peter whistled. “During World War II?”

You nodded, mouth full.

“That was a long time ago.” Peter stated, fidgeting with the coffee cup. “Your world has lore.”

At that, you laughed.

And Peter suddenly wanted to spend his entire life making you laugh again. Because the chime of your laugh danced around the room, harmonizing with Peter’s heartbeats, and the corners of his mouth broke into a tight-lipped smile.

“What? Your world doesn’t have history?” You asked, still grinning.

“Not like this!” Peter said in a half-defensive, half-joking manner. You laughed again, him joining you - because it was funny how complicated your world was, its history taken straight out of a comic book. But it was charming, nonetheless, and Peter wanted to hear you explain your world's history for as long as possible.

There was a pause, a momentary silence after your laughs subsided. You were finishing your croissant; Peter was enjoying his coffee. The black liquid swirled around his Christmas themed mug as he swayed it gently, lost in thoughts.

And then he spoke up again. “I’m sorry about your dad.” His voice was soft, softer than you’d ever heard it. You looked down, biting your lower lip – it was a sore subject, still. “I lost my uncle, who was pretty much like my dad, so I …” Peter continued when you remained silent. His words made you finally look back at him. “I have an idea of what it feels like to lose a dad and I know it’s painful.”

“I’m sorry, Peter.” Instinctively, you placed a hand on his knee. His arm came off the backrest as he laid a hand over yours.

His mind flashed to Gwen, and he wondered if he should tell you about her as well. He quickly decided this wasn’t a trauma competition – plus, part of him worried that you’d look at him differently after he’d mention a tragic love story. So, he decided the moment wasn’t right.

“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.” He spoke instead, eyes never leaving yours. At his words, your glossy gaze softened. Your pinkie rose slightly, tangling with one of Peter’s fingers.

“It’s okay, I understand. I’d be reluctant too.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just inclined to trust Peter Parker, whether he’s a dorky high school student or a tall, goofy, handsome skater boy.” For a second, you glanced at his lips. The wound you treated had begun to heal, and you watched as a teasing smirk made its way onto his features.

“Can’t believe you think I’m goofy.”

And again, you laughed.

Usually when you laugh, you low away – or down. It was a reflex, a habit you had picked up along the years. And because habits are hard to break, you looked down when laughing with Peter as well.

But Peter didn’t laugh. Instead, he was stuck watching strands of hair fall over your face, strands which remained stuck by your cheeks when you looked back at him. His lips were closed in a smile, his honey eyes twinkled and you felt last night’s tension again.

You both did.

His arm ached to reach out and push a strand of hair behind your ear, but he hesitated.

There was pressure in your chest, the kind that made it hard to breathe, the kind that made your head spin. You swore you could feel your heart beating in your throat but you remember that you met this man last night. And he was your friend.

You could also read the hesitation in Peter, so you pulled your arm back from him. Then, in a heartbeat, you were up on your feet. Peter’s eyes followed you.

“Are you okay with staying here by yourself for a bit?” You asked, your back to him. You were washing your coffee mug in the sink.

And just like that, the tension vanished out of the room, the air felt breathable again.

Peter frowned. “Why, you going somewhere?” He licked his lips, as they felt dry. The wound on his bottom lip stung.

“I was thinking of getting you some normal clothes, then we could go meet my Peter.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

You faced him, eyebrows quirked. “The clothes you have on belong to a high school kid and they’re two sizes too small for you.” You glanced at his exposed calves, the t-shirt sleeves tightening around his biceps.

“I’ve seen people wear worse things in New York.” He sipped the last bit of coffee, then got up and placed the mug in the sink, an apologetic look on his face. Then, he leaned on the counter right by you.

You turned the sink back on to wash his mug. “Fine, but that means no geeky surprise for you before seeing Peter.”

“What surprise?” Peter coked his head.

You shrugged. “No surprise if you’re dressed like a Shameless character.”

Peter paused, fighting the urge to laugh, instead choosing to comically put up an annoyed front. His arms folded to his chest and he didn’t want to admit that the t-shirt was, indeed, too tight on him. “Fine but,” he raised a finger “I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t think I can handle buying some pants and a shirt?” One of your hands rested on your hip.

“I have an obscure fashion sense.”

“Let me guess, early 2000’s edgy skater boy style?”

Peter looked at you expression-less. You smiled triumphally, he huffed. “I still want to come with you. I saw a thrift store a block away, we can go there.” When you pursed your lips, he pouted. “Please?”

“Can you not be left alone for like 15 minutes?”

“No, who knows what I’ll do – actually,” he quipped “I was thinking of hanging up your TV using web – “

“Fine, you’re coming with me.” You quickly spoke, walking away. “Just wait for me to get dressed.”

“My web is very resistant,”

“Don’t touch my TV, Parker.” You shouted from the bedroom, behind a half-closed door.

Peter just laughed and sat back at the kitchen table to eat a croissant. Your phone was on the table, and he picked it up mindlessly. Your lock screen was a picture of a teenaged you, standing next to a younger boy whom he assumed was your Peter. The two of you were sat in a booth – your arm draped over Peter, who had a red and yellow mask resting on top of his head. You wore a small, blue ‘40s cap with a star on it. Behind the two of you, amongst high tops of familiar buildings, Peter saw the Avengers building – only in this photo, a bright STARK sign shone on it instead. He didn’t want to try and guess your passcode, nor to ask you about it. Instead, he just opened the camera and took a couple of selfies – then, he placed the phone back down.

*

Walking through the streets of Manhattan felt strange for Peter now. It was as if he walked through the uncanny valley because the city looked the same - until it didn't. He counted at least six damaged buildings during the walk to the thrift store, which were either burned or standing with giant holes in them. He saw tents in alleys and unkept sidewalks.

But there was also something else that made him feel uneasy.

Whether that something was the graffiti on the walls labeling Spider-Man as a murderer, the stickers on trash cans and lampposts with the image of Spider-Man behind bars or the newspaper stands selling headlines revealing Spider-Man’s identity, Peter didn’t know. Maybe it was everything combined.

Walking by your side, he could see those things bothered you as well.

You refused to look at the murderer graffiti and peeled off a prisoner sticker off a post as you waited to cross the street.

“What about this?” You held up a dark brown leather jacket for Peter to see, inside a rather small thrift-store.

Peter scrunched his nose. “I’m looking for something less indie biker and more indie skater” He spoke from behind a row of hanged pants.

You shook your head, rolled your eyes and kept looking for shirts and jackets. Peter would steal glances your way every few minutes as he browsed through a selection of black pants. You looked very focused and deep in thought and – pretty. You wore a lengthy black leather coat, with a pastel blue cardigan underneath. Flared black pants covered a good portion of your black boots, and the material flew around each time you took a step. Your bangs fell in your face as usual while the rest of your hair was pinned back.

You caught him staring at one point, and his ears turned bright red.

Eyebrows up, you held up two shirts for Peter to see, ignoring his flustered state. The corners of his mouth turned down, eyebrows raised slightly – he didn’t hate the shirts. You pointed to the changing room, and Peter followed your direction without questioning it.

A couple of minutes later, he walked out.

Your lips parted at his sight.

He grimaced, “Do I look weird?”

“No, no,” you took a few timid steps towards him. Even though you wore boots, he still towered over you.

He wore his own black converse and a pair of slightly baggy black pants. A navy long sleeved shirt hung loosely over his upper body and traces of a white t-shirt could be seen underneath, its collar peaking.

Your hands went up to fix his shirt, tugging slightly at the fabric on his shoulders. Peter watched you in silence, your faces inches away from each other. You avoided his eyes, despite him searching for your gaze. Then your hands slowly moved to his upper chest, brushing away unseen dust and insignificant creases in his shirt. “You look great.” You whispered only for him to hear.

You stepped back a moment later when you were satisfied with how both shirts looked.

Peter sighed in relief when your hands left his chest, afraid that if you kept them there one second longer, you could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

"I still need to wash the clothes, though." You spoke, giving him another look-over and he shook his head.

"When we get back to your apartment tonight, I give you permission to do anything you want with my clothes." He spoke, not realizing his words caused the apples of your cheeks to turn rosy.

**

Peter couldn’t stop staring at the giant Public Enemy #1 picture plastered on a building. It had a boy on it, half his face smiling, the other half covered by the much too familiar Spider-Man mask. He immediately recognized the boy as an aged-up version of the kid on your lock screen.

Upon seeing that, Peter decided maybe this world wasn’t as cool as he originally thought.

“Peter, you coming?” Your voice called out from behind him.

Peter had been frozen looking at the billboard, forgetting to step away from your car, forgetting to follow you to the surprise you had for him.

He spun around quickly. “Yeah, coming!” He jogged until he reached your side again.

That’s when he finally looked at the building in front of him.

It was tall, typical for Manhattan. Massive windows covered its façade, reflecting the streets and buildings around it. Two massive, dark grey pillars held the front structure, as the entrance to the building was pushed further in. By said entrance, groups of men in suits hung out, smoking. Peter looked for a sigil, a symbol, a name plate which would indicate what the building was but couldn’t find anything. He walked slightly behind you, busy taking in the structure.

His world had this exact same building as well, but he was sure for him this building belonged to some publishing company.

The suited men nodded their heads in a salute when you passed by, then sent Peter questioning looks. The double doors slid open, letting you both pass through.

And then Peter found himself in a massive, open space hall.

You stood by a pillar, watching him grasp the interior.

Hands in his pockets, Peter strained his neck trying to look up at the tall ceiling, at the glass elevators going up and down with ease. There was no color on the inside – everything was either a deep or a light shade of grey. People in suits, holding briefcases or files walked past without sparing him a second glance.

“Peter Parker, welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D.” You spoke quietly, joining his side.

His eyes were glued to a holographic map of the Hub which showed every floor, hovering in the air. “This is S.H.I.E.L.D.?” He was aching to study the map but, as he did a quick spin to look at everything properly, his eyes landed on armed men in tactical gear stationed by the entrance doors.

And suddenly he remembered he was in a secret, super serious facility. “What are we doing here?” He asked you, voice above a whisper. In that moment he understood why you were so tough the night you met.

You shrugged. “Thought I’d give you a tour.” You spoke, beginning to walk to a front desk. The wall behind it displayed the large version of the emblem Peter had seen on your lanyard – a six feathered eagle. “We have a pretty sweet lab, you’ll love it.”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat because you remembered him telling you he was a science geek.

“Hi, can I get a visitor’s badge for my friend here?” You leaned over the tall, rounded front desk. A girl behind the computer glanced at Peter, who gave her a goofy smile and a short wave.

“Can I see your badge, first?” The receptionist’s tone was official. Bored. Uninterested.

“Sure.” You grabbed the lanyard and badge from your bag, giving them to her. Peter rocked on his heels, hands in his pockets. “Thank you, Agent Y/L/N.” The girl spoke after a short pause. “A day pass for him?” She spared Peter a quick, pointing look.

“Yeah.” You replied, placing the lanyard around your neck and the badge back into your purse.

“Name?”

Neither of you spoke, sharing a look instead.

“Tom.” Peter spoke quickly. “Tom, uh” He couldn’t think of a last name fast enough and you were about to jump in when he said “Peters. Tom Peters.” He replied with a satisfied nod.

You pursed your lips.

“Can I see an ID?”

Peter immediately thought of an escape route because he could already picture the special forces guys stationed by the entrance coming for him for identity theft. He mentally cursed for not taking his suit, but decided he could manage without it if he was fast enough.

“That won’t be necessary. I’m a level 6, I vouch for him.” You spoke calmly.

“I can’t make a pass without seeing an ID.”

“But you do have to listen to your superiors, and your superior is telling you Tom can get a pass. I can get Director Mackenzie to sign off on it, if you want.” Your voice was stern, never wavering. Peter’s made-up name rolled off your lips with ease, and Peter was struck by the realization that damn, you really were a secret, highly-trained agent.

“Here’s Mr. Peters’ pass.” The girl pushed a lanyard towards you with annoyance, a few minutes of silence later. You smiled, thanked her and walked towards the glass elevators, Peter hot on your trail. He didn’t want to admit it, but as he watched you boss someone around (for him), the fire within him grew stronger.

The glass doors opened after you scanned your lanyard, and the two of you entered the big elevator. When the doors closed you stepped closer to Peter, standing face to face. He slightly lowered himself upon noticing you planned on putting Tom Peters’ lanyard around his neck.

“Hope this didn’t cause trouble for you.” He whispered, despite nobody else being in the elevator.

“No way.” Your knuckles brushed against his chest as you gently placed the lanyard over his blouse. “Besides, I’m already in trouble.” You glanced up at him, doe-eyed.

Your hands played with his lanyard, the silk string being gently pulled. Peter felt the slight pressure on the back of his neck.

“Spider-Man?” Peter simply asked.

“The things I do for him.” Your tone was riddled with traces of humor, but it was as if both of you had forgotten about the existence of another Peter, another Spider-Man. Peter’s heartbeat increased again.

In that moment, he was the only Spider-Man you knew of.

The elevator doors dinged upon opening, and you didn’t look away from Peter – you wanted to see the look on his face when he noticed what was outside the glass doors.

When his eyes glanced up, his entire face changed. Surprise bloomed on his features with traces of risen eyebrows, slightly widened eyes, mouth agape. You smiled and hooked your arm around his, pulling him outside.

The walls around you were made out of heavy metal, parts of it displaying the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on a grand scale. Cold light illuminated planes everywhere Peter could look. Some were small aircrafts, made only for single pilots, others were larger battle crafts. But right in the center of the space stood the biggest plane Peter had ever seen.

He approached it with careful steps and parted, surprised lips.

“That’s the Zephyr.” You spoke from behind him.

“Holy shit.” Was all Peter could muster. “You been on this?” He asked, amazed. He’d never seen anything like this and he was sure not even the government on his world had planes like these.

“Yeah, back when I was a field agent.”

“You’re incredible.”

You just laughed.

Peter touched the jet with reluctance, sliding his fingers against the cold metal. He wondered if the thing had an invisibility cloaking system, like he'd seen in movies – this jet looked like the type to have something like that. You allowed him to look at anything he wanted, to touch and knock on every plane in that hangar. He even got chatting with a couple of mechanics there who showed him plane engines and explained how everything worked, and Peter absorbed every word.

You followed him aboard a Jump Ship at one point, watching him run over to the cockpit. He leaned over the instrument panel, his long fingers gliding over buttons in wonder. You leaned against the co-pilot’s chair.

“When I was little,” Peter spoke, glancing back at you for a moment. “I was obsessed with planes. And uncle Ben was a mechanic, so I hit the jackpot. He used to teach me about aircrafts and we’d make little,” he did a hand motion, separating his thumb from pointer, signaling a small length “little planes out of cardboard.”

You smiled.

Peter didn’t face you, and he nodded absentmindedly. “It’s crazy that I had an obsession with planes because turns out, my parents died in a plane crash.”

Your lips parted, eyebrows creased, head tilted. You suddenly felt horrible for bringing him to the Hangar. Peter puffed. “I’m so sorry, Peter.” He turned then, guided by the sound of your soft voice. A sad smile resided on his lips as he inched closed to you. It was an involuntary action, as he always sought comfort when upset. He hadn’t received that comfort in years, however, and he didn’t look for it either.

Not until now.

“It’s okay, it happened a long time ago – I’ve made peace with it.” And it was true, he had made peace with his tragedy. He, surprisingly to him, was able to navigate through the darkness caused by losing Ben and his parents.

And now he was starting to see through the darkness of Gwen’s loss as well.

***

By the time you reached the science floor, Peter was ecstatic.

He walked into the lab first and you were about to follow, when a man in a suit stopped you. You looked at him confused and recognized him as Dean, your department co-worker. “Y/N, you’re needed.” He spoke sternly. The doors to the lab closed. Peter hadn’t noticed your absence yet, being too enthralled by the lab equipment to be aware of anything else.

“It’s my day off.” You frowned.

“Yet you’re here.”

“I’m giving a tour to a friend.” You spoke, annoyed. Dean glanced at Peter, then behind you at something else. “Simmons is coming, tell her to entertain your friend for a while.” He nodded towards a scientist heading your way. Turning around, you spotted Jemma Simmons – your friend.

“Why am I needed so bad? There’s thousands of other agents – “

“It’s about Spider-Man.”

At his words, the words got caught in your throat. Your Peter swarmed your thoughts and your protective instincts kicked in. You gave Dean one simple nod. “I’ll be right there.”

Peter walked aimlessly around the lab, amazed. Not even Oscorp had the things S.H.I.E.L.D did and his first thought was that God, Gwen would’ve loved this. And then he sighed, expecting a much too familiar wave of guilt and sorrow to hit him. He expected his stomach to drop, his throat to ache, his eyes to burn.

But neither of that happened.

The pang of guilt was still there, yes, but the sorrow, the despair - those didn’t come.

His eyes immediately searched for you instead, thinking that maybe he should tell you about Gwen because the moment felt right and maybe, just maybe, you could make sense of his feelings.

But he couldn’t find you – and that’s when his stomach finally dropped.

He ran down a row of computers, turned the corner around a centrifuge, then finally spotted you outside of the lab. You were talking to another woman, and Peter slowed his pace walking up to you.

“Oh, there he is.” You smiled when Peter joined you. “Jemma, this is Tom – my friend.” You spoke. A slither of annoyance crawled up Peter’s neck, but he couldn’t tell why. “Tom, this is Jemma Simmons, brilliant scientist.” He hated how easy his fake name rolled off your tongue – he wanted you to speak out his name, proudly.

He shook Jemma’s hand.

“Jemma’s gonna show you around the lab for a bit.”

Peter turned to you so quick he could’ve gotten whiplash. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving.” He frowned, still annoyed.

You smiled. “Something came up, but it won’t take long.” You assured him. “You can come to me when you’re done.”

“I’ll come right now.”

“No, Tom.” You placed a hand on his bicep, and he felt himself relaxing slightly. “Check the lab out, who knows when you’ll get another chance. I’ll be right upstairs, okay? Come when you’re done.”

Peter nodded, reluctantly.

"Watch out for this one, he's a menace." You jokingly told Jemma.

And with a last reassuring squeeze of Peter's arm, you walked away. It felt strange for Peter to watch you go, to watch you disappear behind double metal doors. Last time he remembered feeling this way was years ago, when Gwen would disappear from his sight in the school’s hallways. It was as if a string of his heart was being pulled in the direction you had gone into.

“Are you guys together?” Jemma spoke, a British accent evident in her speech.

Peter tore his gaze away from the door, then looked at Jemma with slightly widened eyes, shaking his head. “No, we’re just friends.”

Jemma just smiled. “That’s exactly what Fitz and I used to say when people asked us that question – years later, we got married.” She chuckled then led Peter into the lab, who walked in after sparing another glance towards the door.

****

Something was wrong, Peter could sense it.

Jemma had been showing him a piece of Space tech, when Peter felt the hair on his back standing up. The room around him blurred, his palms began sweating and he felt unable to breathe all of a sudden. He could see Jemma asking if he was alright, but he couldn’t hear her. A high-pitched noise rang through his ears as he asked where the offices were.

He took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, skipping three steps at once as he climbed through floors.

And Peter didn’t know if air struggled to reach his lungs because of the effort, the spider sense or because he didn’t know if you were okay or not.

By the time Peter busted into the office, there was chaos.

People rushed around him – some in suits, some in tactical gear. A large screen covered the entirety of a wall, displaying a satellite view over a certain zone of Manhattan, with different colored dots surrounding a single area. A man stood in front of the map while other agents were on computers.

His eyes scanned through rows of bright screens until he finally spotted you, and his breath slowed.

You were sat on a black desk chair, knees brought up to your chest. Your hair was down and pushed behind your ears, which had comms in them. There were small creases on your forehead as your eyebrows dented in a frown. Your eyes were slightly squinted and you were talking – or arguing with someone.

But you were fine.

Peter leaned against your desk upon reaching you – and you were too busy watching the screen to notice that he looked absolutely frantic. He tried his best to seem calm, nonchalant but it didn’t work because his eyes were still slightly wider than normal, his teeth were clenched and his chest rose up and down quickly.

“I don’t know who he’s with, do I look like his keeper? All I know is that there are seven people inside that apartment and the DODC are about to go in guns blazing.” You spoke, tone rising rapidly.

A pause.

“What you need to do is stop them, slow them down at least – no, not for – Jesus, are you serious? We didn’t swear an oath to the US Government, Davis.”

Another pause, in which you looked at Peter finally, taking in his panicked state. He gave you a wave; you sat up straighter, legs going down. Silently, you asked what was wrong through a head motion and raised shoulders. You were quick to dismiss the agent on the other end of the call, taking the comms out of your ears before the call even dropped.

“What’s wrong?” You asked Peter.

He shrugged. “I don’t know, I just – “

“The spider sense?” You lowered your voice, rising from your chair to get closer to Peter.

He nodded, slowly. “Is something going on?” Anxiety still swam in his chest.

You glanced at the big screen on the wall. “I don’t know, Peter is inside and I,” you glanced around, then whispered only for Peter to hear “I think he’s with your villains.”

Peter’s back straightened and he turned his head to the screen. Seven red dots inside a building, about four yellow dots outside with one single green dot close-by and a multitude of blue ones which surrounded the area.

“And he’s getting arrested?” Peter didn’t take his eyes away from the screen. That couldn’t have been what he sensed.

“The DODC is gonna walk in on Peter and 5 supervillains, and it’s all gonna be live on the Daily Bugle.” You sighed with exasperation. “S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t allowed to intervene, either.”

And right on cue, blasts were heard from the speakers across the room, making you flinch. Rapidly, you bent forward to see your screen, Peter joining you. Your shoulders touched as he leaned in closer to see the live feed on your computer. Rubble fell right in front of the camera, as the agent filming angled it up. Immediately, you saw Doctor Octavius by the side of the building, with Electro hovering in a blast of blue electricity. As more blasts came from inside, you gripped the mouse tighter.

And instantly, you and Peter looked at each other, sharing the same thought, the same idea. Your faces were mere inches from one another and in the light of your screen you could see tiny freckles mapping out on Peter’s skin.

“I’m gonna go help him.” Peter said, looking straight into your eyes.

“I have your suit.” You spoke, hushed. A grin broke on his features, and he looked at you with nothing but wonder in his eyes. You grabbed his arm and took rapid synced steps towards the nearest bathroom, ignoring the looks some Agents were giving you. Peter walked inside the bathroom, your purse in hand. You stood by the door to make sure nobody would walk in.

Your smartwatch vibrated a minute later and you were about to check it when Peter walked out of the bathroom, fully suited. It was the first time you saw his entire suit, mask on, no hoodie covering him.

It was a beautiful suit, different from your Peter’s. His eyes were bigger and you could see your own reflection into them. The web details were coated in silver instead of black, standing out more. The spider on his chest was also different – bigger, longer.

You couldn’t help but reach out to touch it, gently.

The shiny texture of it gave you the impression that you’d feel metal – or coldness upon the touch. Instead, your fingertips brushed against Peter’s chest muscles, and you pulled your hand back.

Peter grabbed your hand as it pulled away from him. “I’ll get Peter to your apartment.” His voice was now muffled by the mask, and you still felt a bit starstruck as you looked up at him.

“We’ll get him there together.” You spoke after finding your voice again.

Peter shook his head quickly.

You frowned.

“You’re staying here.” Peter ordered and you pulled your hand away from his, once again. Then, you jabbed him in the chest with your pointer finger.

“You’re dreaming if you think I’m gonna – “ You began, angrily.

“I’m not letting you come with me to the most dangerous place ever.” He argued further, his words falling on deaf ears.

“It’s not your decision!”

“Yes, it is!” His arms flailed around in frustration. “You’re staying here, safe. End of story.” He began backing away, towards a window and you followed. “I can’t fight five men and worry for you at the same time!” He exclaimed. His arms extended in front of him, trying to keep you away.

“I’m not–“ before you could finish, your hand was pinned to the nearest wall by dense web and you looked at it then at Peter in disbelief.

For a moment, Peter froze. His eyes stuck to the web, to your hand struggling against it and he was glad you couldn't see his sorrowful face because of the mask.

“Peter!” You screamed, anger in your tone. At he sound, Peter flinched, the present moment finally catching up to him again. And then he quickly threw another web over the last one, making sure your hand remained stuck on that wall for as long as possible.

"What the hell, Peter!?" Your throat hurt as you screamed, riddled with anger and annoyance.

“I’m sorry!” He shouted before rushing out the window, leaving you behind, feeling nothing but cold wind reaching you and web texture against your palm. You let out a loud, frustrated groan that echoed through the empty hallway, then you started pulling the web apart. Explosions could be heard coming from the speakers in the office, and you wanted to cry – not out of sadness, nor despair.

Out of anger.

Loud noises were still being heard by the time you freed yourself minutes later, and you burst into the office with force. “What’s going on?” You asked the nearest agent, who was just staring at the screen. The video being displayed was of a nearly collapsed building being approached by DODC officers in tactical gear. Ruble was everywhere, things were on fire. Your hands were shaking.

“We don’t know, just…lots of explosions, a lizard, a flying man … I don’t know.” The agent replied to you.

“Spider-Man. What about Spider-Man?”

“Haven’t seen him.”

The noise in the room faded, your mind numbed.

And then you ran. You ran out the office, down the tiled stairs, past the guards at the entrance and directly across the street to where you had parked your car.

You could hear cars honking as you crossed, you could feel the wind stinging your eyes. It was dark outside by then and small drizzles of rain fell against your skin. A pit of guilt formed into your stomach each time the sole of your feet hit the pavement – because when you asked about Spider-Man, it wasn’t the image of high school kid Peter Parker running through your brain.

It was skater boy Peter.

You were worried about someone you had met yesterday, over someone you’d known half your life and you felt guilty.

So, you ran with the image of kid Peter in your brain, praying and hoping that he was safe. Your lungs burned and it felt hard to breathe, but you didn’t stop running until your fingers pulled at your car’s door handle.

Your phone rang right as you were about to start the engine. MJ’s name lit up the screen, and you picked up with no hesitation.

“Y/N, is Peter with you?” MJ asked, worry evident in her tone.

“No.” You breathed out. “What’s going on? Where are you?” You asked in-between short, quick breaths.

“I’m with Ned at his grandmother’s house.” She spoke, quietly.

“I’ll be there in 15 minutes tops.” You spoke, already pulling out of the parking lot with speed. Buildings and people zoomed past as you drove, not really paying attention to much. Rain fell against the windshield, frustrating you even more.

“Y/N,” MJ whispered “I think his aunt died.”

You’d never been struck by lightning in your life – you hadn’t even been shot with the I.C.E.R. gun. You’d been tased before, during training, during missions, but it never hurt that much.

Not the way it hurt when you heard MJ’s words.

And suddenly, the world went quiet.

You hit the brake at a stop light, and covered your mouth. Your stomach tensed as you bent forward, fighting a sob. Your vision blurred as your eyes started burning, and your chest felt heavy. The light turned green and you kept driving but it felt like you were floating instead.

When Tony died, Peter completely shut off. You spent countless nights holding the boy as he cried, your own tears melting into his hair. It was hard for him to make progress in his grief – and you understood him, having experienced loss yourself. But he did make progress and you were sure that happened thanks to May, who was, truly, a beacon of light in Peter’s life.

Tremendous pain made home into your soul at the thought of Peter having lost that beacon.

15 minutes later, you were standing in front of Ned’s lola’s house. Tears streamed down your face the whole drive there, and they didn’t stop as you knocked on the door. Ned opened the door swiftly, a hard look on his face – which softened upon recognizing you.

And as your eyes met, his face twisted in pain as tears sneaked into his eyes as well, and you knew. You just knew it was true. Ned stepped back, allowing you to enter and you were immediately embraced after walking in.

MJ held you tightly, her arms linking over your shoulders. You held her back, head burying into her neck, and the both of you cried. Your shoulders shook, she couldn’t stifle her sniffle. Although in different ways, both of you loved Peter deeply – so you felt his pain as if it was your own. And then you felt another pair of arms sneak past your waist as Ned joined the hug, unable to hold back his own tears. And so, the tears flowed even harder, a muffled sob escaping your lips. Your shoulder felt damp under MJ’s tears and your arms tightened around both kids.

When you pulled away, your face was still fighting back sobs.

MJ wiped her face with her sleeve, Ned with the back of his hands.

And then you turned, wanting to look away from the kids who were breaking your heart even more.

Other world Peter stood in the center of the dining room, his eyes glued on you. At the sight of your reddened nose and bloodshot eyes, he felt his heart drop. His lips were pursed, eyes glossy. You stared at him in disbelief.

And your face twisted in pain and within three long strides, you reached him. Your fingers curled into fists, hands hitting his chest. He didn’t stop you, instead allowing you to let out your pain and frustration onto him. Neither of your hits hurt him – what hurt was seeing the tears stream down your face with each hit.

It was such a difference in the way you looked and acted that morning, and how he was seeing you now.

“You didn’t let me come!” You cried. “You stopped me from helping Peter!” Your voice was strained, broken.

Peter finally grabbed your arms, gently. You tried to get out of his grip, failing in doing so. Ned and MJ stared in confusion at the scene but neither of them moved or said anything.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference.” Peter’s voice was soft, gentle.

You shook your head. “You don’t know that!”

“You would’ve died.”

Again, you disagreed even though the rational part of your mind knew he was right. You stopped struggling against him, allowing yourself to relax instead. “Did you help him?” Your voice became small, almost inaudible. But Peter caught your words.

“I got there too late – after Peter left, when everyone but the DODC was gone.” He lowered his head to get a better look at your face, to search for your gaze. You fought back more tears from falling and avoided Peter’s eyes, looking down instead. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, tugging slowly at your arm.

And you allowed him to guide you straight into his chest. His strong arms wrapped around you, one palm going up to cup the back of your head. Your arms slowly went around his torso, holding him as well. You leaned your head against his shoulder, smelling your own ginger scented shampoo on him. His chin rested on top of your head, and you felt your tears subsiding.

Your tensed muscles relaxed, your heart felt a little bit lighter.

And Ned stood by the entrance with his hands raised in confusion, watching the other Peter comforting you. “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?” He asked nobody in particular.

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[hercleverboy]

reassurance

spencer reid x reader 

summary ↠ after a heated argument on a case, the reader gets fatally injured in the field. spencer battles with the fact that he never got to apologise.

category ↠ angst

warnings/includes ↠ major character death, depression, refusing to eat.

word count ↠ 4.2k

“Maybe I’ll see you in another life, if this one wasn’t enough.” — Florence + the Machine

Spencer and Y/N rarely fought. 

Of course they bickered from time to time about silly things that wouldn’t matter ten minutes later, but they rarely had a full-on argument. Screaming matches where they tried to wound one another with bitter words they didn’t really mean. They’d only ever fought like that once or twice, but ultimately they’d end with heartfelt apologies and kisses as they forgave one another and grew from their mistakes. 

This particular argument however, was easily the worst they’d ever had. 

It was the first big fight they’d had since they’d gotten married four months prior. 

You know what they say about marriage; the first year is the hardest. 

“I just don’t understand why we have to talk about this right now.” Spencer scowled as he walked into the empty room, his wife following hot on his heels. 

Themselves and the team were had been sent to North Carolina on a triple homicide case in Charlotte. They’d been there for two days, and the newlyweds had carried an awkward tension with them ever since the case started. The couple had gotten into the start of an argument before they’d had to leave for the jet, which left what they new would be a bad fight brewing between them. Neither of them wanted to start the inevitable fight they knew they were going to have to have at some point. Y/N wanted to remain professional, to keep her emotions in check until her and Spencer got home and could fight  talk everything out. She was succeeding, until she saw how snappy and cold Spencer was acting with her during the case, cutting her off mid-sentence and dropping sassy, unnecessary comments whenever she spoke. That only fuelled Y/N’s fire further. So when she managed to catch him alone she decided they had to have it out, even if it was in the middle of the case. 

She closed the door to the room behind her as she watched Spencer busy himself with the three case files of the murder victims before him. She turned to him, her arms crossing in front of her. “Because I wanted to wait to have this fight until after the case finished, but you started up with the snappy attitude for no reason!” 

“I’m busy, Y/N. Not right now.” He uttered, brushing her off. Again. 

“Yes, right now. Every time I bring up the topic you shut me down and I’m tired of it! We have to talk about this, Spence. I’ve let you brush me off too many times now.” Her voice had lowered, she wasn’t shouting anymore but she was still stern. 

Spencer scoffed. “You’re being ridiculous. I don’t brush you off.” 

“You do! That’s exactly what you did before we left for the jet the other morning. Anytime I bring up starting a family you don’t want to hear about it. It’s a conversation we need to have.” She groaned. It was true, anytime since they’d gotten married that Y/N mentioned the idea of starting a family, Spencer blew her off. He’d completely shut down the conversation, refusing to speak about it with her. Y/N was growing frustrated. She didn’t want them to start immediately trying for a baby or anything, she just wanted to discuss her future with her husband, and he acted like she’d asked him to commit murder with her. 

“Nope, we don’t need to have that conversation right now.” He murmured, his back still turned to her as his fingers scanned over the pages of writing in front of him. 

“Do you not want kids with me, is that it?” She winced, the thought hurting her. 

“Not if you’re gonna act like this.” He responded and it made her breath hitch. She knew he was pissed but surely he didn’t mean that? 

“Spencer- I-I love you, I want to have kids with you. We don’t have to start trying yet, not for a long while but I just need to know that it’s in the cards for us.” She swallowed, walking closer to him, hoping he’d turn to face her. 

“Maybe if you didn’t jump down my throat about all the time I’d be more willing to talk!” He spat, finally turning to face her. 

“Are you seriously trying to pin this all on me? I just need some comfort. You do eventually want a family, right?” Her voice got even quieter, her tone pleading and her eyes glassy. 

“God Y/N why are you in such a rush? We only just got married!” He yelled, exasperated as he threw his arms out in exaggeration. “I just need some time  to think, okay?” 

“How much time? A month? Two?” She challenged. 

“That’s not a lot of time, Y/N.” He ran his hands through his hair frustratedly. 

“I can’t wait around for years only for you to decide you don’t want kids, Spence. That’s not fair on me, I’d have to start over-” 

Spencer frowned, interrupting her. “Wait- start over? You mean with someone else?” For the first time in the argument his harsh exterior softened, worry seeping into his honey coloured iris’. 

Y/N was silent, her gaze lowering to the floor as tears began to tremble down her cheeks. 

Spencer scoffed and shook his head. “This is stupid.” He muttered under his breath, as though Y/N couldn’t hear it clear as day. 

She let out a small sob when she opened her mouth to speak. “All I’m asking for is some reassurance. I’m your wife, Spencer! Why can’t you just give me that?” 

“I don’t want kids, okay?! is that what you want to hear? Can we drop this now?” He exclaimed, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth but at this time his anger outweighed his regret. 

Y/N recoiled, her eyes casting down to look at the floor as her sight blurred, hot tears rolling down her pink cheeks. 

Just then three knocks sounded on the door, a sheepish looking JJ opened it, poking her head in. “Uh- sorry to interrupt. Garcia found us a possible address, Hotch wants you two to go and check it out.” 

Y/N sniffed and wiped the tears away from under her eyes. She grabbed her FBI jacket that hung on the back of one of the chairs before turning toward JJ. “No. I’d rather go with Morgan.” She muttered before walking out the door without a second glance at her husband. 

“Y/N wait-” He tried calling out but she was already gone. He sighed, running his hands over his face. 

“What was that about?” JJ asked quietly, her brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Nothing.” He tried to lie but JJ gave him a look, one that said don’t bullshit me. “We had a fight, it was a pretty bad one. I said some things I didn’t mean.” 

JJ placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay. When her and Morgan get back you can tell her you’re sorry. You’ll work it out, you love one another too much not to.” 

Spencer nodded, glancing down to the thin gold band that sat on his ring finger. His mind drifted back to their wedding day, the happiest day of his life. He remembered how she’d taken his breath away when he saw her coming down the aisle, wearing a dress so beautiful and so her that it brought tears to his eyes. 

She was ethereal. 

and she was his. 

It brought a small smile to his lips. JJ was right. As soon as she got back they’d finish up this case and then he’d spend all the time he had to making it up to her. He thanked JJ before they headed to join the others in the other room. The team, minus Y/N and Morgan, were gathered around overlooking their profile and all the details of the case, looking for anything they might of missed. 

Hotch’s phone rang out and he answered, all of the team looking his way, hoping whoever was on the other end of the line would give them the information they needed to crack the case wide open. Spencer wasn’t concerned until he saw the shift in Hotch’s face, from his usual stern look to one of worry and concern. 

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked as soon as Hotch hung up the phone. 

“That was Morgan calling from the hospital. He and Y/L/N found the unsub at the address. He had a gun, with which he shot Y/L/N twice with before he fled.” 

JJ let out a gasp. “She’s okay though, right? I mean she would’ve been wearing her vest.” 

Hotch spared a glance at Spencer who looked at him with eyes so wide it hurt him. He slowly shook his head. “One bullet hit the vest, the other hit her side. She’s in emergency surgery now.” 

Spencer was up from his seat within seconds, rushing out of the building towards the SUV’s, the rest of the team following quickly. 

*

Spencer rushed through the white hospital hallways with a heavy weight in his heart that he’d never felt before. He dashed around the corner, his eyes landing on Morgan in the waiting room, who sat with his head in his hands. 

“Morgan? Where is she? She okay, right?” He begged his best friend to tell him something, anything good. 

Morgan just shook his head. “I’m sorry kid, I don’t know anything. She’s still in surgery.” 

Spencer felt sick. 

They waited for hours without news, him worriedly pacing the waiting room. He was going through every possible outcome in his head, thinking of the worst case scenarios, making himself physically sick with worry. 

Any time a member of the team attempted to talk to him, he snapped at them, telling them to leave him alone. He knew they were just trying to help, but he could apologise for that later. The only think that mattered at that moment was his wife. Eventually he’d worn himself out, his mind and body overwhelmed with all the emotions and visions of worst case scenarios. It took JJ grabbing his wrist and taking him to another private room for him to finally accept her help. He broke down as soon as she wrapped her arms around him, trying desperately to soothe the sobs coming from his mouth. 

He pulled back, sucking in deep breaths as he attempted to calm himself down. “When we were fighting earlier I told  her I didn’t want kids with her, but it’s not true- God JJ, having s family with her is all I think about.” He wept. “I’m just so scared that I’ll pass down some of my undesirable genes, I don’t want my kids to have to suffer.” 

JJ just gave him a sad look, unsure what to say. 

“What if I never get the chance to tell her I lied? I love her so much JJ- I-I can’t lose her. I want to have a family so badly with her, she means everything to me.” He crumpled into one of the chairs in the room as JJ watched helplessly. 

After regaining his breath and wiping his eyes, the two rejoined the group in the waiting room. The team sent him sympathetic glances but Spencer didn’t acknowledge them. 

It was around 4am that an exhausted looking doctor walked into the waiting room. Immediately Spencer was on his feet, pleading in his head that the doctor will tell him that she was fine, that his wife was awake and alive and was waiting to see him. She was strong, a fighter. She was going to be fine. 

and then everything came crashing down. 

“I’m so sorry, Mr Reid.” 

His knees buckled beneath him as he collapsed to the floor, heartbreaking sobs leaving his mouth as the doctor left the room, closing the door behind him. 

Spencer could hear the other teams whimpers but he blocked them out. 

He couldn’t feel anything but the sharp stabbing pain in his chest that made his whole body throb with a pain so unimaginable he wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy. 

He barely registered how Derek’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him to his feet as his friend cried into his shoulder. 

“I didn’t tell her I loved her before she left.” He bawled, and the sight broke the teams hearts. 

“She knew, Reid. She knew.” Derek tried to soothe him but it was a fruitless attempt, as his heart-wrenching cries only intensified. 

*

Two weeks later and the pain was still as fresh as it had been that day. Spencer’s body ached all over, his heart felt heavy in his chest.

He’d slept on the couch for weeks, refusing to sleep in their bed without her.

 It felt wrong. 

After shutting everyone out for two weeks and barely eating, showering or sleeping, he finally allowed JJ into his apartment. They didn’t speak, but he would sit on his sofa, staring blankly at the wall while JJ tried to get him to eat and encouraged him to shower. He wouldn’t respond, no matter how much his stomach rumbled with hunger, he wouldn’t eat. JJ tried her best, and she knew he was grateful, but he was so deep in his heartache and depression that he couldn’t do anything. She would tidy up sometimes and did laundry for him, encouraging him to change out of the same clothes he’d worn for weeks. 

He heard JJ humming to herself quietly as she walked through the living room toward the kitchen, laundry basket in her hands. He normally wouldn’t have paid notice, but an item of clothing on top of the pile caught his eye. It was a bright mustard yellow cardigan. 

Specifically, it was Y/N’s mustard yellow cardigan. 

Spencer recalled how she loved the bright colour, having many items in her wardrobe of similar colour. She insisted it was for her ‘autumn style’, whatever that meant. Whenever she told him that he’d simply smile at her, his eyes so full of love and happiness. She would always grin back at him in response. 

What he’d give to see that smile again. 

“Wait.” He called out, his voice thick and raspy after weeks of not using it. “You can’t wash that.” 

JJ looked over in surprise. He hadn’t spoken to her at all any of the other times she’d been over to help him. 

Spencer got up and walked over, taking the cardigan from the top of JJ’s pile. He brought the item up to his face, inhaling deeply, a sob getting caught in his throat at the realisation that it still smelled like her, the scent of her perfume clinging to the fabric. 

JJ’s eyes widened with the realisation that the cardigan belonged to Y/N. She’d just picked it up from where it had been on the floor in the bedroom, figuring it belonged to Spencer. She was about to apologise profusely for touching it when he spoke again. 

“I miss her so much, JJ.” He cried, his voice cracking as she placed the basket down on the floor. 

“Can I hug you?” She asked, unsure if he wanted to be touched at that moment. 

He nodded, and was filled with a sort of relief when JJ’s arms wrapped around him. It was the first human contact he’d had in weeks. He welcomed the warmth. (He’d felt so cold lately.)

Later that night he’d sobbed himself into an uneasy sleep, clutching the cardigan to his chest, inhaling the scent of her perfume as if he could convince himself that she was still there.

When he woke the next day he saw the sunlight peeking in through the curtains that he hadn’t opened in weeks. He blinked, and noticed how his fists still clutched handfuls of the yellow cardigan. His memory flashed, and he recalled how she looked in the mornings- like a goddess. He could almost hear her melodic laugh, as though she were right next to him. He closed his eyes, hoping he’d wake up and it’d be real, that she’d be next to him and everything would be okay. This horrific nightmare would be just that- a bad dream, after which she’d soothe him with hushed reassurances and soft kisses to his forehead. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping and praying that when he opened them she’d be there in his arms, where she was meant to be. 

He opened his eyes slowly, only to be met with what he feared, an empty space beside him. 

Spencer really thought he couldn’t cry anymore, that he was all out of tears, but as he felt the familiar feeling rise in his chest, his breaths picked as a small sob broke from his lips. 

He didn’t leave the sofa that day. 

* 

He was sat with his back against one of his walls, his knees pulled up to his chest. His phone buzzed from the table across the room. The team called and texted him regularly, but he never responded. Though no one called him more than Derek Morgan, worried sick for his closest friend. 

Spencer waited for the buzzing to stop, the familiar tone ringing out that signalled he’s been left a voicemail. Something inside him possessed him to stand up, grabbing his phone and tapping the buttons to hear the voicemail. 

“Hey Reid. Its Morgan, I-uh.” His voice cracked. Morgan was never a particularly emotional man, but he still remembered that day Y/N died clearly, and was consumed by guilt. He blamed himself, Spencer could hear it in his voice.  

Morgan swore under his breath as he placed his hands against her side, desperately trying to slow the blood pouring from the wound. 

“Morgan.” She grunted. “The unsub- you have to go after him.” She clenched her teeth together at the searing pain in her side, a burning feeling like nothing she’d ever felt before. 

“No, Y/N. I won’t leave you here. Not only are you Spencer’s wife but you are my friend and I’m gonna stay with you, okay?” He promised, meeting her tear filled eyes as she nodded. “The ambulance is gonna be here any second, just gotta hold on for me yeah?” 

Y/N nodded and fought desperately to keep herself awake but could feel herself slipping away with every second that passed. She shook her head from side to side, hopelessly trying to force herself to stay awake, fighting to keep her eyes open. 

“Y/N? Y/N! Come on, baby. You gotta stay awake. What about Spencer, hm? Talk to me about him.” Morgan was just trying to get her talking in hopes that she’d stay awake long enough for the ambulance to arrive. 

“He said he doesn’t want kids with me.” She mumbled, giving a weak smile. “We- We argued about it earlier, but I’m not mad at him. Morgan, he has to know I forgive him-” She coughed, blood spilling from her lips as she winced. She looked up at Morgan. “Y-You have to tell him. Tell him that i-it’s okay. Tell him I love him, that I-” She let out another cry in agony as he pushed harder down on her wound. 

“Listen, listen. You hear the sirens? They’re close. You just gotta stay awake for a little while longer. Then you can tell pretty boy all of this yourself, okay?” Derek looked around as he heard the sound getting closer, relief breaking out across his face when the ambulance rounded the corner, coming into view. He looked down to Y/N to reassure her, but noticed how her body had gone limp beneath him. “Y/N?” His eyes were wide as he moved a hand to shake her shoulder, getting no response. “Y/N please-”

“I just need you to know, if you’re listening, how sorry I am. Y/N she- she told me, before the ambulance came-” Derek paused and Spencer’s breath hitched.  “She wanted me to tell you she loved you. That she forgave you.” Derek cleared his throat, evidently trying to keep up his ‘tough guy’ act for the sake of his friend. “I just- needed you to know that. Call me when you’re ready.” The loud beep sounded out after the message finished and Spencer just stood, frozen. 

His wife’s last words were that she loved him, that she forgave him. 

It didn’t make him feel any better. 

*

JJ was washing up plates in his kitchen after pretty much forcing him to eat some soup. He only had about four spoonful’s, which was disappointing but it was progress, and she figured it was better than nothing. 

It had been a month since Y/N died, and nothing was getting better for Spencer. Everyday felt worse and worse, the pain never got lighter like people said it would, it never got any easier to deal with. 

He sat on the sofa with a book perched on his lap, though he made no attempt to read it. He’d loved to read before, but now he couldn’t look at any of his books without thinking of how he used to read them to Y/N when she couldn’t sleep. He found that everywhere he looked in the home, he was reminded of her. 

After drying the plate and putting it away, JJ turned to look at her friend who sat staring at the wall blankly. 

She spoke although she knew she likely wouldn’t receive a response, she didn’t mind. He needed human interaction of some sort. “I’ve been talking to the others and- we think maybe it would be useful for you to speak to someone. Anyone, Spence. You can’t keep living like this. It’s killing you.” She murmured, her voice pleading. He shifted his gaze to look at her, but said nothing. “If you don’t want to talk to someone, how about you try writing letters? It’s something they had me do when Roslyn died. I used to burn them afterwards too, I found it therapeutic.  It helped, even if just a little bit.” She tried, hoping he’d at least consider the idea. 

After JJ left Spencer thought about what she’d said. At first he’d thought it was a stupid idea, pathetic, really. Writing letters weren’t going to bring his wife back. 

but then again, nothing would. 

He found himself sat at his desk, pen and paper in front of him. It took him hours to figure out what he wanted to say. At first he couldn’t even decide how to address the letter, was just her name good enough? He wrote and rewrote the letter a hundred times, trying to get everything right. Eventually he realised that there was no way to get it ‘right’, he just had to write how he felt. 

 ‘Y/N, 

JJ reckons that this will help aid my grief, and I can see how much my state is scaring her, so I figured I’d give this a shot. 

Its been two months since you left. 

Since you left the world, since you left me. 

I know it wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you, not for anything. I blame myself more than anyone else. If I’d just told you the truth rather than trying to be difficult, maybe you’d still be here. Maybe if I had just given you the reassurance you were looking for, It would’ve been me who’d come with you to the address. 

I would’ve protected you. 

Because that was my job, you know. To protect you. And I failed. 

I miss you. 

I miss how we’d stay up watching crappy reality TV shows on nights where neither of us could sleep after a case. I miss the nights you’d let me read to you, your head on my lap as you slowly drifted to sleep. I miss making breakfast with you early on a Sunday morning, on the rare occasion we got the weekend to ourselves without any interruptions from work. I miss dancing with you in our living room to whatever music you played. I never cared what song it was, only that it was you that I was dancing with. 

You were my favourite song. 

I hope you know how sorry I am. 

I’m sorry that I’ll never get to tell you how I lied to you that day in the police station. That I’ve never regretted any words more than I do those ones. I wish I could tell you how badly I want a family with you. How nothing would make me happier than seeing little versions of ourselves that we created, that we could raise together. 

I don’t think the stabbing pain I feel in my chest when I think of you will ever cease. I’ll carry the guilt of my words for the rest of my life. 

Penelope says it will get better someday. But I can’t imagine a day where I wake up without you and don’t feel empty. 

I love you. So much. 

Forever yours, 

                      Spencer. ‘

He clicked his lighter three times before the flame appeared. Taking a deep breath, he hovered it to the edge of the letter, watching it catch alight and begin to burn. As he watched the flames flicker in front of him, he wondered if he’d ever know peace. 

If he’d ever be able to breathe again without her by his side. 

He’d have to learn to live without her. 

An impossible task. 

[jungshookz]

OMG UNI YOONGI TALKING TO LISA TO MAKE OC JEALOUS BUT Y/N GETS A LIDDOL UPSET BC LISA'S SO PRETTY AND SO PLAN BACKFIRES AND YOONGI IS LIKE OHNO

➺ pairing; min yoongi x reader

➺ genre; uni!yoongiverse!!!!! if u want to read something that’ll make your heart happy then you just struck gold

➺ wordcount: 6.4k

➺ summary; yoongi’s plan to make you jealous doesn’t go exactly as he’d expected.

➺ what to expect; “i’m y/n y/l/n, my student ID is 10120200, and today i will be discussing the neurobiology behind the complicated mask of romantic attraction.”

➺ optional reading: not necessary but feel free to read some other drabbles from the uni!yoongiverse!

➺ note; okay so thiS was originally how y/n and yoongi got together in the first place but before i had a chance to finish it i ended up writing that christmas mistletoe drabble instead!!! but i still wanted to share this version with u guys :-) also i am the worst at finding the source for gifs but i found it off here!! and the info used in this drabble is from this website!! ok i’m shutting up now happy reading!!!

                                    »»————-　♡　————-««

yoongi is not used to this

and by this he means you

and by you he means he doesn’t understand why you don’t seem to be as into him as much as he’s into you and it’s weird because (not to toot his own horn or anything) he thinks he’s preTTy good at wrapping people around his dainty pinky finger and it just doesn’t seem to be working with you!!

did that sentence even make any sense??

does anything even make any sense anymore????

“-i guess, to answer your question, i don’t really know what to do which is weird because i’m usually pretty confident with everything that i do. you know?” yoongi sighs and shakes his head

the cashier blinks owlishly at him

all she asked him was ‘how are you doing today?’

“so… are you going to order anything or…?

yoongi clears his throat before turning to glance at the very long line of impatient university students wanting their daily fix of caffeine

see????

look what you’ve doNE TO HIM

you’ve broken him and he doesn’t know how to fix himself!!

“…one medium iced vanilla cold brew, please.”

yoongi stares blankly into space as he slurps up the remainder of his coffee

he shakes the cup around a little and the ice rattles inside

“good morning!”

yoongi looks up and nods in acknowledgement as lisa plops down next to him

anyone who’s said that you can’t be friends with your ex obviously didn’t have a meaningful relationship with them

because yoongi and lisa are doing just fine!

they take a history course together

he didn’t actually knoW they were in the same class until he was (very) late to class one day and the only seat left was next to her and he thought that if he didn’t sit next to her the next class that that would open up a whole can of worms that he definitely did noT want to open up (“how come you’re not sitting with me anymore? is it because we used to have sex and now you can’t look me in the eye without thinking about how you broke up with me and your reason was ‘i don’t know, i just feel like we’re… not a great couple’?”)

but the point is  

they get along great!

they don’t hang out outside of class but they get along inside of class which is what matters

“shit, did you happen to get the notes from the last slide? i missed some of the last bullet points-“ lisa grabs yoongi’s notebook and huffs when she sees that all he has on this page are some half-assed notes and a lot of doodles “you are of no use to me.”

“it’s all part of my charm, baby.” yoongi sighs and leans back against the squeaky seat

“i have no idea what i saw in you in the first place.” lisa mumbles to herself as returns her attention to the screen

“oh, babe… you’re making me blush!” yoongi coos before giving her a little punch on the shoulder

“you’re making me want to jump off a cliff- and don’t touCH me-“

and all of a sudden

it hits him

he knows what to do to get you to talk to him!!

he’s spent the last forty minutes of class thinking about your cuTe face and how he’s going to get closer to you but something about what lisa said just inspired him

actually it had nothing to do with what lisa said

it had more to do with her presence and her subtle reminder that they used to date

he needs a catalyst of some kind

he needs to.,.,., to catalyse yoU!

(he learned that word from chemistry but he’s not sure if he’s using it correctly he’ll have to fact-check that with u)

yoongi nudges lisa’s side and she scowls before nudging him back harder

“oW- cut it out-“ yoongi grumbles and swats at her hand

“you started it-“

“will you just shut up-“

“yoU shut up-“

“i need your help with something.” yoongi hisses as he begins to scribble the plan down on his notebook so that lisa can read it instead of him having to whisper it to her in its entirety

he’s not very useful to her but she’s about to be very useful to him

he now knows exactly what to do

>:-)

“if you keep bouncing your leg like that i won’t hesitate to slice it off with this flimsy wooden pathetic excuse of a knife.” jimin leans over to poke the tip of the dull knife into your forearm and you huff before whacking his hand away

“i can’t help it, you knoW i get jumpy when i’m nervous.”

god

you feel itchy

is it hot in here??

or is it just you??

hopefully your armpits aren’t sweaty

nothing kills the mood more than swampy pits

am i right ladies

“y/n, you know he likes you back-“

“no, actually, i don’t know that.” you shake your head before leaning over to peek at the entrance of the cafeteria doors again “he’s never explicitly stated that he likes me back so i can’t just go around-“

“he doesn’t need to tell you! he- he literally spooned you in the middle of class aND he made me give up being your partner for the presentation so that he could be your partner instead.” jimin raises a brow when you look back at him

“…and your point is?”

he groans quietly and rolls his eyes

how can someone so smart be so stupid at the same time

here’s what’s happening

you think you’re finally going to do something about your feelings for yoongi (gross)

and the thing is, you actually weren’t planning on doing anything today because you like to plan things out in advance but somehoW jimin convinced you that this would be a good idea

anyways

you’re going to ask yoongi if he’d like to join you (and jimin) for lunch!

it’s not a big step but at least it’s somEthing

and it’s not like asking him to sit with you at lunch is you professing your undying love for him

it’s just lunch!

maybe if you’re lucky, when he sits down next to you, you can scooch in closer so that the side of your leg is touching the side of his leg

and if you’re extra lucky, maybe he won’t move away from you when you do that

:’)

you perk up when you see yoongi step into the cafeteria and your heart skips a beat when the two of you make eye contact for a brief second before he’s looking away and joining the line

alrighty

that’s your cue!

“alright-“ you slide out of the booth and wipe your clammy hands on the back of your jeans “wish me luck!”

jimin shoots you a thumbs up before reaching over to steal one of the watermelon cubes out of your fruit cup

okay

this’ll be fine

you’ll be greAt

all you have to do is ask yoongi if he wants to come and sit with you

…but you can’t just ask him without saying hi

so say hi first

you know what

you should’ve practiced this in your head before getting up and leaving the safety of the table

but now it’s too late to turn back because you’re already halfway to yoongi and you can’t just tuRn back because you know he saw you and he’s going to think it’s weird if you stopped and whipped around halfway through your somewhat confident stride towards him

damnit

daMNIT

okAY what are you going to say??

hi yoongi… how are you?

nO no that’s oddly polite

hi yoongi… what are you going to order?

nope not that either

hi yoongi… chemistry, am i right? how are your slides for the presentation coming along? i noticed some of your facts were a bit broad so i made some comments on the side to help-

??? hoW do you steer the conversation from there?? NERD

hi yoongi… what’s up with the meatloaf here?? what’s in this mystery meat?? i guess that’s why they call it a mystery! hAh

…ok that one was just weird

and just as you’re a couple feet away from yoongi, that’s when you notice that he’s not alone

nope

because he’s engaging in what looks like vEry friendly conversation with another girl

“yoongi, cut it out, you dweeb!” she giggles before giving his arm a gentle slap (her hand lingers on his arm for a good three!!! seconds) and yoongi raises his hands in defence

???????

who is this stranger??

who is this stranger and why is she touching yoongi like she’s noT a stranger???

and why isn’t yoongi acting like she’s a stranger???

“what?? i’m just saying!!”

he turns his head slightly and the two of you make eye contact yet agaIn

your eyes widen in panic

oh god

well now you definitely can’t ask him to sit with you at lunch

not when he’s talking to a literal godDESS

god!!! look at her!!!!

her hair is so long and silky and she has that whole ‘is she sexy or is she cute’ vibe going on and woW that eyeliner is impeccable

you look like you have raccoon eyes compared to her eye makeup

…you look like a raccoon compared to her

he’s obviously going to sit with her!!!!!!!

mission abort

MISSION ABORT

you immediately swerve and head towards the vending machine

okay

that didn’t go toO badly right

was your swerve smooth?

hopefully it seemed like it was a natural movement to suddenly make a JAGGED turn to the right

you know what

this is a sign

you and yoongi are not supposed to be a thing and that was a sign directly from God himself

you feel your face heating up a little when another realisation hits you

you thought yoongi liked you back and it seems that he doesn’t… and even if he did like you back, you waited too long to do something about it and he’s obviously moved on  

suRe, you’ve been going around saying that you’re pretty sure yoongi doesn’t like you back and it’s not a big deal because it’s expected, why would he like me? but you only kept saying that because you wanted it to be wrong

you wanted yoongi to prove you wrong

and he moved on because you were taking too frickin long to decide what you wanted to do with him

…and you didn’t even bring any change with you so you can’t even get a bag of chips to make you feel beTTER

“i… i’m sorry, but what the hell was that?” jimin snorts as soon as you take a seat at the table and you clear your throat before shrugging

“an effort was made… and… the result came out inconclusive! so… it’s whatever.”

jimin leans over to the side a little to peek past you at yoongi who just wrapped an arm around whatever-her-name-is’ shoulders

and then he notices yoongi glancing back a little in your direction

hm

…fascinating.

“y/n…” jimin sighs as he sets his fork down, “yoongi likes you. you know he does. everyone knows he does! you’d have to be blind to noT see how into each other you two are.”

“you’re just saying that because you’re my friend.” you sulk as you slump against your arm

“i’m saying that because it’s true, you idiot.” jimin frowns and reaches over to give the top of your head a pat, “use that big brain of yours and think about it!”

okay fine

you’ll use your stupid big brain to think about stupid yoongi and your stupid crush on him

the other week in class you were pretty bummed out because you had forgotten to bring your snack with you and you were looking forward to it all day (you slathered some strawberry jam on some crackers and made little sandwiches) and after you briefly mentioned it to yoongi (after he asked u ‘what’s a saD girl like u doing in a sad place like this’) he went quiet for a second or two before picking up his backpack and leavinG the lab

and you were very confused because class was literally starting and he just walked out like it was no big deal

you were about to get up and chase after him to bring him back but once the professor started the lecture you were pretty much bolted down to your stool

when he came back ten minutes later (thankfully the professor was playing a video for the class so yoongi was able to sneak in without being noticed) you were very surprised when he plopped a crumpled up wad of napkins(??) in front of you

“thank you for the… garbage?” you whisper as you use the back of your pencil to poke at it

“open it up.” yoongi points to the top of it and- oH okay it’s like a little parcel of some kind

it just looked like garbage to you

you reach over to unwrap the parcel and your brows knit together when you-

oOh!!!!! oh!!!!!! crackers!!!! cracker sandwiches with strawberry jam oozing out the sides!!!!!!

“have i ever told you about how much the lunch ladies love me?” yoongi grins and wiggles his eyebrows before pushing the crackers closer to you “bon appétit, m’lady.”

you perk up a little and jimin looks over at you in interest

wait a second

if yoongi didn’t like you back then he probably wouldn’t have gone out of his way just to get you a couple crackers and jam

what else has he done?

in class he always leans over to doodle on your notebook and even when you tell him to cut it out he never does

but is that flirting?

how about when he compliments your scrunchies or your socks or little things like that?

is that flirting or is that just him being nice???

okay

what about this one

how about when he walks you to class and insists you give him a kiss on the cheek as payment?

you immediately shoot straight up from the table and jimin jumps in surprise

jesus chriSt

he didn’t sign up to sit with a jack-in-the-box today

“yoongi likes me!” you gasp and jimin resists the urge to roll his eyes

“look who finally came to their senses-“

yoongi likes you!!

a lot

like a LOT

and you like yoongi a lot too!!!!

so you have no idea why you’re acting the way that you are

part of it is because he’s being kind of flirty with someone else but the other part of it is…

it’s just that you have no idea why every time he brings up the question of ‘so… what are we?’ you immediately panic and sputter out some lame excuse about how you have some work to catch up on but i’ll catch you later!!

oh god

the smile drops from your face

do you have commitment issues??? is that it??

“is it working? do you think it’s working?” yoongi forces a smile on his face to make it seem like he’s still very interested in what lisa is saying and she peeks over his shoulder before shaking her head

“i think your plan was a failure from the start anD i think we should’ve gone with my plan if you really wanted to make her jealous-“

“i’m not gonna make out with you in front of y/n-“

“well, she’s not even paying attention to us anymore. her back’s facing us.”

yoongi whips around so fast that he nearly gives himself whiplash and his shoulders droop when he realises that lisa’s right

damnit

he really thought his plan was going to work!! he thought it was foolproof!!!

obviously not because here he is

looking like a grade A foOL

“you sure you’re okay?” jimin nudges your arm as the two of you throw out your scraps and wrappers

after your whole ‘yoongi likes me!!!’ moment, you were pretty happy for like 3 seconds and then you started spiralling into a whole self-pity ‘i might have commitment issues’ thing which eventually led you back to ‘yoongi could never like someone like me… no wonder he’s off eating lunch with someone else…’ and jimin was fully ready to rip his hair out

one step forward and a miLLion steps back

anyways

you were pretty quiet for the remainder of lunch which wasn’t a huge surprise because you dO have the tendency to get a little mopey when things don’t go your way (but in your defense, who wouldn’t get mopey??)

like one time when you were assigned the topic of comparing and contrasting influential leaders during the WWI era for a history essay when you were really hoping to be assigned the topic of the impact of propaganda

you were so bummed out that you basically just leaned on jimin for the entire period of lunch without saying anything

and now it looks like it’s happening again!!!

you know what

no

you can’t go in circles like this for the rest of your life

this time you’re not just being mopey and pitying yourself

this time you think you’re actually going to do something about the issue (juSt like how you should’ve gone to your prof to fight for that propaganda essay)

you feel ridiculous!!

you can’t go on beating yourself up over something that you can kiNd of control!!!

you know that you wanna be with yoongi officially

you know that there’s a mutual attraction between the two of you

and most importantly you want to be able to call him your boyfriend and not just a classmate that you sometimes flirt with and all-the-times fantasise about holding hands with

you’re finally ready to sit him down and tell him you definitely like him and that you definitely want to be with him and you are noT about to let him slip away this easily!!

seeing him with someone else lit a fire under your ass

…and you know exactly how you’re going to handle this.

to say the least

yoongi is.,,.,..,

concerned

very, very concerned

he hasn’t spoken to you in like three days and he’s pretty sure you’re avoiding him

and he knows this because the other day after you came out of class and saw him standing there waiting for you (like he usually does) you immediately diverted your gaze and attempted to hide behind a bunch of people before disappearing down the opposite end of the hallway

and then when he walked into class to go and sit next to you like he always does he was very surprised to see that jimin had reclaimed his spot next to you

…and if those aren’t signs of you avoiding him/being upset with him he doesn’t know what is!!

if anything he thought the whole lisa plan was going to get you all riled up and jealous which was something that he will openly admit to vEry much wanting to see because let’s be real seeing someone get jealous is always a little hot

but instead it seemed to have upset you and possibly hurt your feelings which was the complete opposite of what yoongi wanted and now he doesn’t know what to DO

usually he’s the one that does the avoiding! whenever he gets into little riffs with girls (most of the time they’re upset about him not texting and/or calling back which he admits is his fault and he could’ve handled those situations more maturely but that’s not the point) all he has to do is like smile at them in class and they immediately forgive him because he has a greAt smile

also usually it’s other people who are trying to make him jealous!!! so it’s pretty weird that hE was the one trying to make someone jealous!!!

he doesn’t like the taste of his own medicine

it’s bitter and he can’t get it out of his mouth

he-

yoongi jumps when his phone buzzes in his back pocket

from: nerdzilla [1:58pm] - Yoongi, can you come to lecture hall A in the maple building right now?

huh

okay

it looks like you’re no longer avoiding him which he supposes is a good sign

…but nothing good can ever happen in a lecture hall

“there you are! i was worried you got lost.” you smile lightly as yoongi steps into the lecture hall looking very out of place

“what’s… uh, what’s going on?” yoongi raises a brow as he makes his way down the steps

“take a seat and it’ll all make sense soon.” you gesture for him to sit near the front before turning to make sure everything’s hooked up and ready to go

yoongi lets out a sigh as he plops down in one of the seats

a moment of silence goes by before he decides that he should probably be the first one to speak up and at least trY to smooth things over

but before he even opens his mouth you’ve already dimmed the lights in the auditorium anD attached a mini microphone to your sweater

you clear your throat before stepping forward a little bit

“i’m y/n y/l/n, my student number is 10120200, and today i will be discussing the neurobiology behind the complicated mask of romantic attraction.” you swallow your nerves after introducing the presentation before clicking to the next slide

what in the world

what is happening

yoongi looks around at the empty auditorium before looking back at you

he still doesn’t know if you’re mad or upset or mupset and if this is just how you process your emotions but maybe he’ll just sit back and relax for now

“now, in order to understand brain chemistry, we need to understand the different chemicals that are involved in the process of romantic attraction. there are four hormones that are important when it comes to understanding love - cortisol, dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin. we’ve actually discussed these hormones in class, so if i, say, asked you what cortisol is, you would say…” you trail off and turn to face yoongi and he immediately straightens up

uh

he didn’t think he’d be teSted during whatever the hell this is but okay

you reviewed all of these terms with him for the last quiz so you’d be more than disappointed if he’d already forgotten about them

“if you asked me what cortisol was, i would say…” yoongi narrows his eyes slightly before pursing his lips

why is he sweating all of a sudden

he’s nervous

why does he feel like he’s in cLASS

this ain’t right!!! this was a trick!!!!

“cortisol.” yoongi mumbles as his fingers drum anxiously against his kneecap, “court-isol… courting a mate… courting someone can be stressful- ooh, cortisol is the steroid that is released when we’re stressed!” yoongi claps his hands together and grins widely when you nod proudly before turning back to look at the slide

hAH

he’s still got it

“so, in short - cortisol is a stress hormone, dopamine seeks out pleasure, norepinephrine makes you highly excitable, and serotonin is a mood stabiliser. when you’ve got a crush on someone, your serotonin drops as your cortisol levels increase, which then makes your brain pump out dopamine, which produces norepinephrine.” you turn to look at yoongi to make sure he’s still paying attention and he now looks moRe lost than he was before “do you get it?”

“i… can you repeat that? but in a completely different way? and with different words? significantly easier, simpler words?”

“i mean… i thought i’d already explained it in pretty simple terms-“

“in whAT universe was that simple???”

“okay, what about this- basically, when you’re in the process of falling for someone, all of the hormones that make you anxious and energetic are super duper high while the one that keeps you stable is super duper low.”  

“thank you. you should know by now that you have to explain things to me like that.” yoongi snorts before leaning back against the chair and kicking his legs back up and flicking his wrist “alright, you have my permission to carry on.”

you roll your eyes playfully before turning back to face the screen  

“there are approximately twenty commonly-reported thoughts, feelings, and behaviours that are associated with falling in love, but in the interest of time, i’m just going to be covering three.”

yoongi (bless his heart) is still trying to figure out what the point of all of this is but is struggling a little because he’s also trying to focus on this presentation of your at the same time

meanwhile, you’re pretty close to pissing yourself on stage because you’ve never confessed your feelings for anyone before and you hate that you can’t decipher the meaning behind yoongi’s poker face

is he playing along??? is he just letting you go through with this presentation even though he already knows what you’re hinting at???

or is he actually confused and has nO idea what he’s doing here??? does he think you’re wasting his precious time????

“number one: intrusive thinking.” you interrupt your internal ramble as you switch to the next slide, “when we’re in the process of falling for someone, our levels of serotonin drop significantly.” you pause and whip around to face yoongi, "remind me again what serotonin is?”  

yoongi’s eyes widen slightly

uh-oh

he’s being put on the spot agaIN??

god

is it too late to drop out of this class?????

“uh… can i get a pass on this one?”

you frown

u literally just said what serotonin was like three seconds ago

he’s so bad at listening!!!! no wonder he needs your help all the time!!!

“serotonin is a mood stabilizer, so it makes you feel…“

“calm!!! and in control!!! and- and stabilized!!” yoongi spRings up from his seat with a raised hand before bouncing up and down

“there we go.” you smile lightly when yoongi gives himself a pat on the back

he’s so cute when he’s proud of himself :-(

“anyways - serotonin stops the triggering of obsessive-compulsive behaviour. however, when the level of dopamine is larger than the level of serotonin, that means you don’t have as much control over your obsessive thoughts and behaviours, which is why when you… have a crush on someone, they’re on your mind all the time.” you clear your throat when you feel a little tickle at the back of your throat

it’s almost like your body is rejecting the idea of u telling yoongi u like him and trying to tell you to sTOP STOP STOP but it’s waaaay too late to stop now

“you find yourself checking your phone all the time to see if they texted you back. when you get an assignment back, your first thought isn’t ‘hey, i did a good job!’ like it usually is, and instead it’s ‘hey, i wonder if they did a good job too!’. they’re the first thing you think about when you wake up and the last thing you think about before you fall asleep. and it’s… weird, having this person take up so much space in your mind, it’s like… thinking about not thinking about them makes you think about them even more?”

“…thinking about not thinking about them makes you… ah, okay, i understand. got it!” yoongi shoots you a uncharacteristically dorky double thumbs up and you can’t help but snort

“number two: a change in priorities.” you click to the next slide

maybe it’s a good thing that yoongi hasn’t caught on yet

you’re actually starting to enjoy giving this presentation even if it’s not for marks and doesn’t count towards any of your grades whatsoever

“the active hormone in this case would be dopamine. which is…?” you turn to look at yoongi and the smile immediately drops from his face

have you not learned that he is incapable of answering questions on the spot like this???

“dopamine… makes you… feel dope. therefore… dopamine… is… it makes you feel… good…”

okay you’re going to be here all afternoon if you keep picking on yoongi like this

“how about you just…sit back and relax?” you offer yoongi a sheepish smile, “i promise i won’t ask you any more questions.”

yoongi’s shoulders visibly droop and he lets out a breath of relief before leaning back against the seat  

thank GOD because he’s really not sure how much more information he can pull out of his ass

“so, dopamine makes you seek out pleasure-“

“which is basically what i said-“

“as i implied earlier, a spike in dopamine is involved with having intrusive thoughts. a change in priorities has a lot to do with this spike, because you’ll try pretty much anything to get to the reward that can bring you pleasure - obviously this reward i’m talking about is the person i’m crushing- i- i mean, the person that you- the person that one has a crush on.” you stammer before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck

ooh boy

we’re falling off the rails a little here

yoongi raises a brow

he’s never seen you get so twitchy before

especially not when you’re giving presentations because you literally live laugh loVE to give presentations

last week you showed him a presentation of all the things you ate over the weekend and it was actually surprisingly informative and entertaining

“um… so… right! a change in priorities. for example, even if you hated something like skateboarding - and i’m talking really, reaLLy hated - you might suddenly be super cool with giving it a go!” you shrug before unconsciously brushing your fingers over your scratched up elbows that resulted from yoongi trying to teach you how to skateboard a couple weeks ago  

yoongi’s brows knit together in deep thought as the gears click-click-click away in his head

why are you giving this presentation in the first place? what’s the whole purpose of it? why this subject in particular? how come no one else is here with-

yoongi perks up in his seat when it hits him

oh

oh

suddenly every single detail about this peculiar situation rushes over him like a tidal wave

…the neurobiology behind the complicated mask of romantic attraction…

…what is cortisol?? cortisol is a stress hormone that is released when ur courting a mate…

…’hey, i wonder if they did a good job!’ instead of ’hey, i did a good job!’…

…really, really hate skateboarding… suddenly willing to give it a go…  

“-and finally, having an intense increase in energy!” yoongi snaps out of his whirlpool of thoughts when you suddenly clap your hands together, “dopamine - which, hopefully you’ll remember increases when you feel desire and arousal for someone - produces norepinephrine, which is the hormone associated with feelings of excessive energy and restlessness!”

you start pacing around on the stage with your hands on your hips

“like, usually you have a pretty good sleep schedule of 9pm to 7am, but suddenly, all because of this person, you suddenly have the ability to stay up for the entire night thinking about him a-and his stupid face and the fact that he has you wrapped around his pinky finger and somEhow you’re still able to survive the next day without crashing and burning!”

a smirk slowly begins to form at yoongi’s lips when he finally processes what exactly is happening

maybe his lisa plan worked after all

you like him

this is you telling him that you like him and you know what he has to give you a little more credit for using your skills to your advantage

look at you and your cute little ‘i love you’ presentation!!!!

adorable!!!!

just as he’s about to get up and interrupt your vEry passionate rant about how important it is to get a solid eight hours of sleep a night, the projector suddenly glitches and the screen goes black

“one night, i only got like three hours of sleep but what i’m tryINg to say is that-“ your neck nearly snaps from how quickly your head whips around when the screen flickers to black

oh shooT

out of all the times for the damn projector to glitch!!!!!

just as you were about to reach your conclusion!!!!!

fRICK

“sorry, give me a second.” you hold a finger up before jogging over to the little desk where your laptop is  

this is why you hate all this bluetooth apple TV nonsense

the projectors always disconnect at the worst times

it’s just not a reliable way to present something!!

it takes a couple seconds for the projector to catch up to your laptop but when you see the concluding slide pop up on the screen you let out a sigh of relief

ok

maybe you should stop talking about your sleep schedule and just jump straight into the conclusion because you honestly don’t even know what you’re talking about anymore

see!!!! look what yoongi’s done to you!!!!!

you’re usually very good at improvising presentations and now you’re just shooting blanks!!!

whatever

just present your danG conclusion and get this over with u dummy

“in conclusion, the neurobiological process behind romantic attraction is quite evident wh- oh!”

the moment you whip around you don’t even get a chance to be surprised at the fact that yoongi is standing right behind you because the next thing you know he’s pulling you in for a kiss

as soon as his lips press against yours, your mind immediately goes blank and all you can hear is pure white noise (which you’re pretty sure is just your laptop fan whirring because it’s about to run out of battery)

yoongi reaches up to take your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger before tilting his head slightly to deepen the kiss when your hands suddenly grip at his hoodie

at first he wasn’t just going to throw himself at you like this but honestly you guys have played this game for far too long

and he’s wanted to kiss u for so long

unsurprisingly, you’re the first one who pulls away (yoongi would 110% spend the rest of the day making out with you on stage if it were up to him) and yoongi swipes his tongue over his bottom lip when he sees how flushed your cheeks have gotten and how swollen your lips are

all that from a little bit of kissing?

…goD that’s so frickin cute

“you-“ your voice cracks slightly and he can’t help but grin because it hits him that the only thing that can make you stutter like this is hiM- “i wasn’t- i wasn’t done with- with my conclusion.” you whisper

wha-

huh

okay

out of all the responses in the world he definitely wasn’t expecting that

well, that’s not true

as he’s mentioned before, you are very passionate about your presentations so maybe he should’ve expected this

“oh! uh, yeah, i’m sorry-“ yoongi quickly takes a step back and raises his hands in defence “sorry. what were you saying?”

you turn away so that your back faces yoongi and you mouth a silent ‘oH MY GOD-‘ to yourself

oh my god

oh my GOD!!!!!

oh myg od????

omg

like u literally don’t know what else to say besides oh my god

no thoughts head empty

“in conclusion, the neurobiological process behind romantic attraction is quite evident when i’m talking about the way that i feel… about… well, about you.” you spin back around to face yoongi and feel your heart skip a beat when he smiles widely before bursting into laughter

what the-

why is he laughing??????

that was supposed to be a sweet moment????

that was supposed to be the part in the movie where the audience goes ‘awww’!!!!!!

so what the heLL is he hee-hawing aboUT

“i’m sorry, i just-“ yoongi covers a hand over his mouth and lets out a snort, “i cannot believe how much i like you-“

“oh, well, great! that makes me feel sO good about myself-“ you feel your face grow red as you throw your hands up in the air

“no, no, not like that! i-“ yoongi wipes a tear from his eye as he makes his way towards you, “you… you’re a dork, y/n y/l/n. you know that?”

“…every time you open your mouth to speak i begin to like you less and less-“

“you’re the biggest dork on this planet and i am so, utterly, obsessed with you.”

oh

…to be honest that was like an insult and a compliment wrapped into one so you’re not quite sure how to interpret it buT-

“so you… like me back?” your stomach flutters when yoongi places his hands on your waist to pull you in

“of course i like you back!” he reaches up to flick your forehead and you immediately let out a yelp, “god, i thought you were supposed to the smarter one out of the two of us-!“

he pauses to give u a little kiss on your forehead because he might have flicked u harder than intended

“and can i just say… i love it when you talk nerdy to me.”

“oh, god, get awaY from me-“ you immediately let out a groan before rolling your eyes

he’s so annOYING

“aw, come on! what’s the matter?” yoongi laughs when you shove him off and turn away from him “i’m hot for teacher-“ he growls playfully as he grabs your hips from behind before pulling you back in towards him

“you are the absolute worsT-“ you whine as you feel your back bump against his front

his arms slink around your waist as he props his chin up on your shoulder “i don’t know about you but mY serotonin levels are like, bouncing off the walls right now-“

“that doesn’t even make any sense, yoongi! it’s like you weren’t even paying attention to anything i was saying at aLL-“

“sure i was! i paid enough attention to know about how much you loooOooOOVe mE-“

and for the record

yoongi will be more than happy to attend any of your future presentations if it means he gets to kiss you at the end of each one

:-)

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

[shaydeoffical]

Glass Slipper Malfunctions: Shinso Hitoshi x Reader

Summary: Y/n's Halloween Costume Breaks at a party, and they call their best friend to come help them. Thing's don't go as they planned, and now there's something more than friendship brewing. 

Author’s Note: This is part of a collaborative hosted by @pluviophile-imagines for the fall season. I was so happy to be a part of this amazing collection of works. Please go check out the other’s!!! 

Warnings: Mentions of fake blood, riding in a car.

Words: 2.4k

Sweater Weather Collab

Glass Slipper Malfunctions

"(Y/n), if you swirl that cup any faster, there'll be no punch left." Toga flicked my forehead. We were on the second floor of Dabi's house. His father was out of town, and he decided to go all out for Halloween. Smoke machines led lights, streamers, and even some graffiti over the fireplace, no corner was lacking a spooky decoration.

"I'm sorry, I just wish Shinso hadn't bailed", I admitted, downing what was left in the solo cup. Music was blaring all across the house, but I could tell she heard me when her smile faltered.

"You don't need him (Y/n), he's holding you back from having fun. He's always so serious and grumpy." Her costume was a bloody nurse, with rips in tears in all the right places. Leaning into me, she used her stethoscope to listen to my chest, tapping the instrument to the rhythm. "Yup, your heart's working just fine. Don't look so upset, come on, let's dance."

"Toga, don't pull so hard." I dragged my heels behind her, barely keeping up with her pace. Knocking people out of our way, she took the stairs two at a time.

We had been dancing for the last two hours, and I was already low on stamina and bloated from the punch. While running, I tossed my cup into the overflowing trash, missing it by a good few feet. As if my luck could get any worse, the liquid soaked into the floor. Dabi was okay ruining his family home, but I wasn't.

"If you don't smile, I'm going to do something drastic." Toga spun me around and dipped me as the music dropped. Alcohol, sweat, and a faint hint of blood filled the air, making my stomach begin to churn even more.

"I feel kind of woozy," I clutched to her shoulder, but she continued to swirl around the room and rock us back and forth.

"Everybody, gather round! Midnight is almost upon! I'm glad you-" Dabi got everyone's attention, drawing in a crowd around him.

"Come on, you're not being very fun." Toga ignored Dabi, and we moved to the back of the crowd. Still moving to the music, she let me go mild spin. I fell back, my heel snapped as I tried to catch myself. My dress caught on my other shot, ripping the strap holding it up. Landing on my ass, I pushed the hair from my face. My ribbon was lost in the crowd. In a moment of realization, I covered my chest, trying to get to my feet. With my dress pulled back up, no one had seen my trip; I just needed to get fixed back up.

"Toga, I-"She was gone. Clutching my thin paper costume between my hands, I kicked off my shoes, darting through the crowd to the bathroom. I had never been so thankful for a speech, fog machine, and laser lights in my entire life.  

Making it to the bathroom, I locked the door and looked in the mirror. My makeup had slid out of place, my hair was a tangled mess from the bun I initially had it in. The 'glass', slippers were now scuffed, and one heel was missing. My dress straps had broke beyond repair, and I was in desperate need of a backup costume.

Sitting on the toilet, I pulled out my phone, zoning in on my lock screen. It was Shinso holding up his kitten. I could see his head just poking into the frame. His dazzling smile causing one to spread on my own face. I don't know how I got to be in this bathroom to start with.

Everything had been planned down to a T. Shinso, and I would dress as Cinderella and Lucifer for the party. We'd get in the horse-drawn carriage I rented, at eight, and then arrive at the party by eight-thirty. Shinso would find a nice corner to sit and read, while I danced the night away looking for my Princess Charming. Toga and I would drink it up and bask in the full moon. At the end of the party, Shinso would be our D.D and take us home in Toga's car. It was simple enough. Thinking back, I didn't really take into consideration how Shinso felt about it. Well, I kind of knew how he would felt about being Lucifer instead of Prince Charming, but I thought he'd be okay with it. Then there was the other issue...

It wasn't a secrete he didn't like my new friend Toga. He tried to keep that opinion to himself, but it all spilled out last week. I knew changing our Halloween ritual from watching movies to a party with strangers would upset him. I just thought he'd go along with it for me. Or maybe I hoped he'd go along with it. I wanted to respect his boundaries, but he and Toga were so jealous of each other that it was hard to see either of them.

If there was one thing that clear now, Toga was willing to leave me for the wolfs. Pulling up Shinso's contact, I knew I was going to need to grovel a little. He was already waiting to be my D.D, but I needed a little something else now.

Y/n: Heyyyy, I need some help.

Fuzz Ball: Are you okay? I'm on my way

Y/n: I'm fine. My costume broke and I'm stuck in the bathroom.

Fuzz Ball: Can't Toga help you?

Y/n: She sort of, ran off and I'm… I don't know. I'm confused, I can't go back out there like this and I feel really guilty about ditching you.

Fuzz Ball: You are allowed to hang with your other friends without feeling guilty,

Y/n: I know, but I hate that you two don't like each other. I shouldn't have invited you and upset you.

Fuzz Ball: I'm not upset, I was sad. But I agree to be D.D, I shouldn't have back out last minute.

Fuzz Ball: I'll be there, I have a plan.

Y/n: What did I do to deserve you?

Fuzz Ball: You offered to do my history assignment in exchange for me doing your math.

Y/n: Right, seems like a fair trade. Also, don't you dare text and drive.

Fuzz Ball: I'm using the text to speech feature, I'm almost there.

Y/n: Someone's knocking on the door, ahhh. I'm on the first floor and to the right. There's a little hallway, and that's where the bathroom is.

Sinking back onto the commode, I relaxed my shoulders. Shinso was on his way to rescue me. I guess between my two friends, Shinso was the loyal one. Toga did seem flighty, but tonight was ridiculous. She had to see me fall and just walk away...that was an issue for another time.

At least I got all the dancing and drinking done that I wanted too. It was time to go home and convince Shinso to put on some scary movies and call it even.

There was a steady knock on the door, a familiar pattern that Shinso always used when sneaking to my window late a night. I flung the door open, and he dove into the room, carrying an orange trash bag filled with something. His black cat ears were perched on his head, a long fluffy tail wrapped around his waist. So much for us matching now.

"I love you, man," I hugged him tight, unsteady on my feet. He steadied me, and returned my bear hug.

"Thank me later, let's get out of here. There's so much weed in the air, I won't be able to pass a breathalyzer if we don't haul ass." He handed me the bag and pulled flip flops from his back pocket.

"You're telling me. I sobered up after tripping, but it's been a wild night., Anyway, I'm really eternally grateful- Shinso, why are there leaves in this trash bag?"

"It is a costume party, right? I thought you'd want to blend in." He wiggled his brow, the obscene cat makeup adding to his smug idea.

"I take back what I said about loving you." Laughing, I ripped two holes in the bottom of the bag and stepped in. Getting it to my neck, Shinso tied it, and I poked my arms out, the leaves itching my skin. "It works.

"You look cute." He smoothed my hair before opening the door. A line had formed, and we received death glares from the party-goers that were making some assumptions. "Let's get out of here."

"Well, I guess the carriage does turn back into a pumpkin at the end of the night, it's fitting." I sighed; the party was still in full swing. Shinso didn't let go of my hand as he parted the sea of people. My legs crunching the leaves as we walked. No doubt, I was leaving a leaf sprinkle trail in my wake.

"Is that a costume change I see?" Toga caught the other end of my hand. Her friend Twice was right behind her, carrying their drinks.

"I'm glad I ran into you. I'm headed home early. Can you find a D.D?" I asked her, the music-making my ears throb. Through the changing lights, I saw her grip her chin before smiling.

"I can just crash here. And be careful with Mr. Grumpy pants." She leaned around me to lock eyes with Shinso. "Aww, is the kitty cat upset?" She clawed at the air before turning tail to move along.

"She took it better than I thought." He sighed, finally reaching the door.

The cold air wrapped around my legs, sending a chill up my spine. The moon illuminated the street, and all the children had returned home to get a sugar high before bed. If music wasn't spilling out of the house, like a heartbeat in my ears. Shinso's car was in the middle of the street, emergency lights flashing, and the door still agape.

"You really rushed in like my knight in shining armor." Getting in the passenger side, I hugged my bag close as Shinso shut the door. He walked around the front and got in, turning off the emergency lights.

"Why can't I be your Prince Charming?" He took off down the road to my rental house. I hadn't been living on my own for long, but he already knew the road by heart. Even I still had to use my GPS. "Cat got your tongue?"  

"No, yet." I giggled, focusing on his lips. Swallowing hard, tension began to build between us. We both an impeccable communication skills, but there was something neither one of us was willing to outright say.

"Is someone being a bad pumpkin tonight?" He shook the bag, and I smacked his hand away. His smile was enough to make my heart race.  

"Yea, I guess I am a bad pumpkin." I leaned into my knees, trusting Shinso not to break so fast I bump my head.

"You can cry if you need too. Teasing you is one of my favorite past times, but I know you're upset."

"I know you like me." I pushed my hair back. "And the reason I didn't let you dress as Prince Charming is… I don't know. When I was at that party, I just kept thinking about us watching horror movies and eating way too much caramel popcorn. How we'd fall asleep next to year other and wake up for a mid-afternoon bike ride through the town before everyone takes down their decorations. And we can still do one half of that tradition if I avoid a hanger over."

"You didn't want me to be your prince charming because we have basically been dating the past two years, without ever getting into the physical side?" He pulled onto a back road and stopped at a spot that had the perfect view of the moon.

"I knew what you were hinting at when you asked to be Prince Charming. But I was afraid I didn't understand your hint, and then I was afraid someone would ask if we were dating and if you said no… I'd be sad. And it was a mess." I fiddled with the drawstring on the bag, not looking at him.

"I'll just say it. I like you, I like spending time with you. We've been friends for half of our lives, but I know we've had something special going on for a while now. I was afraid to ruin what we had, but I can't play it safe anymore. (Y/n) please look at me." I raised my eyes, his hand cupping my chin. "There's a few more hours left before the sun comes up. How about we go home, watch some movies and make out?" My skin heated up, blood rushing to my brain to keep it in operation.

"Bold of you to assume I don't want a kiss right now." I shifted to face him, a leaf ticking my side.

"I'm sorry, your majesty." He leaned forward, our lips latching onto each other like magnets. A wolf hollowed in the distance, and a cloud pasted at just the right time to illuminate the car. I took fistfuls of his black shirt and held him close. It was slow at first, but it heated up as I inched over the car console. We separated for breath, and I settled into my seat.

"Don't be sorry." I giggled, sitting back in my seat and wiping the black lipstick from my mouth. "Why'd we wait so long?"

"I don't know. But I regret it." He reversed from our spot on the hill and got back on the main road. "Let's get home and makeup time."

"So in the end, the winning combination is a broken plastic shoe, Lucifer, and a magic pumpkin. You know, Prince Charming and Cinderella are so mainstream. This was the better outcome, anyway." I kicked my swollen feet on his dash. "But I could get used to 'Your Majesty"; it has a nice ring to it." I tickled under Hitoshi's chin, his stubble pricking my fingers.

"Out of everything I just said, that's what you're holding on to?" He pulled into my house.

"Yup." I popped the p, and got out. "Race to the couch, let's start with Coraline."

"As you wish." He shook his head, chasing after me anyway. It wasn't what I planned for, but I was happy. I guess having my costume break was the best possible outcome for the night. We curled up on the couch, and a sense of peace washed over me. Nothing had ever felt so right.  

[doctorreids]

folklore - spencer reid x reader

CHAPTER ONE - the 1 

next chapter 

summary: reader sees spencer on the opposite platform of her subway station and can’t help but reflect on two memories on why she believed he was the one. 

a/n: send me an ask to be a part of my taglist!

word count: 2,270

“and if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed. and if you never bleed, you’re never going to grow.”

The apartment felt completely empty. It has been now for weeks. Despite the fact that they used to come and go in the mornings, the sound of the shower running and the coffee machine brewing did nothing to fill the void of his voice floating through the apartment.

Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to turn on the radio or television to drown out the silence that has been following her for months now.

3 months, 2 weeks and 3 days to be exact.

The cool, autumnal breeze swept through her hair as she walked to the subway. The leaves on the trees turn to fiery shades of red, orange and gold, brightening up the grey sky. The pavement shines with the remains of last night's rainfall, the hustle and bustle of early morning carrying her to the station. This time of year has always been her favourite, the transformation of each season amazes her but there is not feeling quite like crunching leaves beneath your feet, or watching them slowly fall from their trees in the breeze.

He loves this time of year too.

She’s been trying to convince herself that she’s alright without him, that she’s turning over a new leaf, but each day it gets harder and harder to fight the urge to call him. Then she reminds herself of all the times he failed to show that he truly wanted her, wanted her to listen and to hold his hand; all the times he failed to take down his walls, let himself open the floodgates and to grow with her. He failed to change with the seasons. Yet, she wants nothing more to hear the soft timbre of his voice, the tone he only ever used with her. Once again, she has to remind herself that that’s gone too.

Her stop was relatively empty for this time of the morning. Just a few early-risers like herself yawning into their to-go coffee cups, flicking through this morning's newspaper. The platform always echoed at this time of day, no sound other than soft conversations and the occasional announcement from the speaker.

She didn’t like mornings until she met him. Now she rises early, usually getting into work a while before everyone else. She tries to shake those thoughts from her head but lifting her head from the ground she looks to the other platform.

She looks right at him.

She knows it’s not him, he lives in the opposite direction, but her mind is telling her that the messy mop of brown hair, the suit jacket and cardigan combo, is really him on the other platform.

The rumbling vibrations of the approaching train snapped her out of her reverie. Shaking her head, she got onto the train knowing that her day was going to be filled with paperwork and fighting how much she yearned to give him a smile.

“roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool. and if my wishes had come true, it would have been you.”

It was very rarely that the two of them had time off from work but when they did, they spent it together. Walking around DC, going to the Smithsonian or visiting old bookshops across town. It was dusk by the time they got to the memorial. The sky swirled with pinks, reds and puffy white clouds. It reminded her of an old saying her Dad would tell her on the drive home from her Grandmother’s House.

‘Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight. Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning.’ It had no significant meaning, he only said it to make her laugh and for some reason it always did.

They had been together for a few months by then, but it felt like forever to them.

The sun hit the pool opposite the memorial, the pink sky etched into the water as the sun made its daily descent. His cardigan was hooked over her shoulders and her hand wrapped up in his.

“Spencer?”

“Yes, my love.”

She smiled at the pet name. He never used them very often.

“Can we make a wish?”

“Always.” He began fishing in his pockets for loose change. Smiling, he handed her a quarter and kept one for himself.

“You know, throwing coins into fountains stems from the practice of presenting gifts to Gods to either appease the Gods, or as payment for a request or prayer. This can be seen as the earliest version of making a wish. European folklore, specifically Germanic and Celtic traditions, used the term wishing wells as offerings to their gods for water.”

She hummed in response, his lyrical voice calming her. She loved that he was an endless fountain of knowledge, she only wished she could give him something in return for all the little facts he gave her.

Closing her eyes, she tossed the quarter into the pool, wishing for the man beside her to remain there. Always. Watching her coin become smaller and smaller and sunk into the depths, she watched as he did the same. The ripples of his quarter disrupted the glass-like pool as it fell opposite to her coin.

Her laughter broke through the silence.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing, I’m just… really happy.”

He grinned, “Me too. Though, I must ask, what did you wish for?”

Smugly, she replied, “Now, if I tell you it won’t come true.” The twinkle in her eye told him all he needed to know.

The two walked on, arms intertwined as they walked to the music their laughs made mixed together.

She’d never admit to anyone but she wished he was the one.

Thinking back on that date, she now knows that wasn’t true.

“we were something, don’t you think so? rose flowing with your chosen family, and it would have been sweet.”

That night at Rossi’s was the last time she remembers being happy with him.

That was 4 months ago.

Pulling on that red dress that Spencer loved, she watched as JJ, Emily and Penelope got themselves ready. With Rossi’s dinner falling on the same night as their scheduled girl’s night, they had to compromise.

“Pen! You look beautiful!” Her friend truly was glowing, her dress a bright orange and her hair curled to perfection.

“Thank you, goddess divine, I must say red is truly your colour.”

“You’re too kind, Pen!”

She felt truly happy. Surrounded by her friends, they were more sisters than they would ever be work colleagues. They were each other’s biggest supporters, always there to lift each other up and help each other when things weren’t the best. Together they were one big chosen family. They were her safety blanket when things felt out of control.

Tonight is going to be good, she kept telling herself. She hadn’t seen Spence in a while, outside of work. They’ve been almost too busy to find a moment to just be with each other - no geographical profiling or paperwork. All they wanted was to be able to sit down and watch a movie, or an episode of Doctor Who without thinking of work or worrying about another urgent case.

Looking over at JJ, who looked radiant as ever, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of overwhelming sense of belonging. JJ made everyone welcome, so did Pen. Something she never really found anywhere else, from school to her jobs before working for the BAU, and now she’s found that belonging she was so desperately searching for.

Emily was an enigma though. Her closest friend, they were both so similar. They failed to let most people in, but after years of holding those walls up they eventually have to come down or are broken down by someone else. They broke down each other’s walls. Emily was always there when she needed reassurance, and likewise although Emily rarely needed it.

She found all she dreamt of as a teenager; a chosen family. All of them were pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together.

It was not secret by now that Rossi loved to cook, and that JJ would almost certainly go if there was a promise of wine. So dinner parties became a fixture every once and a while with Hotch at the helm of persuading and convincing Rossi to have another. It was always another opportunity to pick up a new recipe to try out at home for Jack.

Walking in, they were met with wolf whistles and compliments from Morgan (which was to be expected anyways) and a rare smile from Hotch. She was not anticipating Spencer to be there early but there he was.

He caught her eye as soon as she walked in, looking her up and down and giving her a shy smile.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, yourself.” She replies, her eyes full of love and joy. “You look very handsome tonight.”

“Why, thank you. You look beautiful as always.”

Just a small compliment gives her butterflies. They’ve been together for over a year and have known each other for years yet it feels as though she’s a teenager every time he smiles; she’s taken back to the days of high school crushes, school dances and hearts in notebooks. She gives him a small thank you and her brightest smile as they wrap their arms around each other, taking in the other’s warmth. The only word she could use to describe the comfort of his embrace was home. She was home in his arms.

The night went on as it usually did; full of laughter, food and happiness. Memories they would all hold onto until they couldn’t anymore. It made their job easier to know that they could always find happiness within each other.

Out on the porch, everything was still, Spencer’s suit jacket was wrapped around her body. Everything about the night was perfect. To put it in the simplest terms, she was truly happy.

Falling asleep next to Spencer was the easiest part of her day, the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the sound of his soft breathing lulled her to sleep with the biggest smile on her face.

She had the one in her arms and she never intended to let him go. And neither did he.

Funny how life turns out.

“I persist and resist the temptation to ask you, if one thing had been different, would everything be different today?”

Throwing her work back down at the front door of her cold, lonely apartment was now routine. No more laughter walking into the threshold of her home, or the smell of freshly brewed coffee from his cup. Just loneliness.

Photos had been taken down, the memories too painful to walk by every day, and with nothing to replace them with, the tables, walls and fridge lay bare of any memory of what once was. Pulling out leftovers from last night’s dinner, she waits for the low ding of the microwave as she steps out of her shoes and jacket. Cooking, even three months on, is lonely now too since they used to do it together. But she supposes, they did everything else together too.

She opens another cheap bottle of wine. It’s Friday, Saturday can deal with her hangover.

Tucking her legs into her chest, she cradles the glass of wine in one hand. The orange glow of the streetlights below illuminate her living room. Staring out into the street, she feels it again. That aloneness. It comes and goes in waves, but like any wave when it hits you, it stuns you. It’s a cold and dark feeling. No longer does she feel the ghost of his arms wrapped around her at night, or the grip of his hand in hers. Now, there’s nothing.

Just her and what could have been.

She often asks herself that if things had been different, if they had just talked to one another, what would today have looked like. But then she thinks that’s no use, things would have stayed the same. She changed with the seasons, he didn’t.

Hindsight is a beautiful thing, but it can’t help her now.

She wonders about what he would change. If there was one thing that he would do differently. She also wonders about what he wouldn’t change and what he really wanted.

Did he ever dream of settling down someday? She was never one for a white picket fence life but he made her want it so desperately. Did he ever dream about seeing her in a white dress or running around a garden with a child? Did he ever think about what they would name their kids? Did he ever want any of that?

Sometimes she thought all he wanted was a constant until something better came along. Maybe, she thought, he believed that what they had was always going to be an end table. That one of them would give up and it would be over as soon as it started.

The red liquid swirled around the glass as she tried to resist the temptation to call him, to ask him these questions, to apologise. Finishing it off, she grabs her phone, unlocks it and clicks his contact.

She could never bring herself to change his contact photo. It was a picture of them back in August of last year. Sun-kissed with honeymoon love struck eyes, the photo still made her smile despite all the pain.

She let her finger hover over the button.

Maybe she would get her answers tonight.

[hold-me-sickfics]

Okay guys, as promised:

Day 1: Namjoon💜

Prompt: Namjoon’s been up since 2:00 a.m. with a stuffy nose and a pretty rough cough. His throat is killing him, and can someone please bring him the lotion tissues? His nose is bright red from how many times he’s used that old t-shirt in the floor. Thankfully, he’s been given permission to stay home and rest for the day, but that’s just impossible for him. He’s supposed to be the leader of the pack, so how can he just abandon them right before an interview? What if they need him? What if the interviewer only speaks English? What if Jungkook loses his shirt 5 minutes before they go in? What if Jimin and Taehyung accidentally reveal what the new album is called? What if… well everything happens? Or… what if… just maybe… the leader needs loved and coddled but instead he’s all alone at the house all day...

TW: Food, this fic is more snz focused than anything (Note: if anyone sees a trigger I missed, please let me know and I’ll post a warning for it too!)

—————-

“Namjoon, why are you in here? I thought I just told you to stay in bed until I got your breakfast.” Jin lightly scolded the leader. Namjoon had been up since 2:00 feeling pretty sick.

“I know but I wadted to bake sure you didn’t deed help with breakfast.” Namjoon shuffled over to the coffee maker, and poured himself a mug of it.

“Joon, down. No coffee. You’re sick, so the last thing you need is coffee making your stomach hurt.” Jin took the mug from him, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Here, just sit down and rest okay? How about you make a quick call and see if you can get today off. I’ll make you some hot tea. We’ll see if you feel like eating once your sinuses open up a little, alright?” Jin eased Namjoon down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

Namjoon had to admit, he felt terrible. His nose was stopped up and running at the same time. His throat felt like it was tight and on fire. His muscles ached, and he felt cold. His skin felt so sensitive; even Jin touching him earlier had hurt. But still, having his hyung so close did help him to feel safe and cared for, so he had endured the pain.

Namjoon picked up the phone, and dialed the BigHit office number, asking to speak to his scheduler.

Jin listened closely as Namjoon struggled to talk. He grabbed a bottle of honey out of the cabinet and poured a tablespoon into the tea he was brewing on the stove. Sympathy pain took over his chest when he hear Namjoon cough to clear his throat. The cough was wet, and thick, and had nearly even made him gag.

Just then, Taehyung and Jungkook came running downstairs.

“I AM EATING THE BACON! YOU CANNOT STOP ME!” Taehyung screamed.

“I WILL JUMP ON YOU!” Jungkook swung over the railing.

Surprisingly, the maknae managed to land perfectly on Taehyung’s back, causing him to hit the floor- hard.

“Ah!” Taehyung let out a harsh cry.

“Shhhh!” Jin pressed a finger to his lips. He mouthed the words “Joon’s on the phone”

Both the younger boys apologized immediately, and then bolted to the refrigerator. Jin couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Yeah, I cad’t breathe well.”

Namjoon coughed again. This time wasn’t as thick, but Jin could tell there was enough snot in his throat to fill a bucket.

Hoseok came downstairs in his bathrobe, hair still dripping wet from his shower. He too, heard the last cough, and decided to inquire about the situation.

“Jin, he sounds awful.” Hoseok glanced over at the leader. He immediately noticed Namjoon’s red nose, puffy-pink eyes, and pale skin. A sheen of sweat covered his face and upper chest. His hair was half-matted to his head in sweat as well.

“He’s been like this since 2:00. He’s trying to get today off so he can stay home and rest.” Jin took the tea off the stove and poured a decent-sized amount into a small, blue mug.

“Okay, thank you.” Namjoon hit the “end call” button, and set his phone down. He rested his head in his hands.

Jin carried the mug to Namjoon and set it on the coaster. He took the chair beside Namjoon and stroked his hair softly.

“What’d they say?” Jin leaned down to try and meet Namjoon’s eyes.

“They’re letting be stay home... but you all have an interview today... I cad’t stay here and just let you guys go alone.”

Though it hurt to have someone touch his skin, he leaned in closer to Jin, trying to take in some of his strength.

“Joonie, you have to stay home today. You look like you feel awful, and I know you do. You’ve been up since 2:00 this morning, and I know you’re exhausted. We’ll be back by dinner, okay?” Jin carded his fingers through the younger’s sweaty blonde hair.

Namjoon was about to protest when his chest broke into hacking, heaving coughs. His ribs hurt from coughing so much and his throat felt like it had been run up and down a cheese grater. Tears came to his eyes as he finished his coughing fit.

“Take it easy Joon-bug. Sip on this for me. It’s got honey in it. It’ll help ease the pain a little. And hopefully it’ll open you up too.” Jin lifted the mug to Namjoon’s hands and helped him lift it to his lips. Jin couldn’t help it, he had a soft spot for all the members, but it was really bad when Namjoon didn’t feel well. It seemed that Namjoon was all he could think about on those occasions. Perhaps since they were paired together so often in games and such. They’d just gotten really close as oldest and leader of the group.

Namjoon gratefully accepted the beverage, and sipped it down. He was visibly relieved by the warmth and smoothness of the liquid. It nearly made him forget that he had to let the group be on their own today.

Aaaaaand that’s when he remembered.

“Jin, what if they don’t have a transblator? Or like, what if Judkook can’t find his shirt again? Or what if...” Jin cut Namjoon’s worries off short.

“I’ll take care of it okay? You just rest today. And if I come home and find you doing anything but resting, I won’t be very happy.” Jin gave him a gentle look, telling the leader that he was just doing what was best for Namjoon’s health.

Namjoon wanted to debate, but he just couldn’t. He wasn’t feeling strong enough. He nodded, and they went through the rest of breakfast pretty smoothly.

An hour passed, and Namjoon was currently being tucked in by Jin.

“Okay, I put a bottle of water on your table. There are two extra blankets in that chair over there. I have cough drops over here beside the water, but if you end up needing more, they’re in the top shelf of the bathroom cabinet. I know you didn’t want to take medicine, but I left it here anyways. Send me your temperature every hour, unless you fall asleep. If you fall asleep, then take it ten minutes after you wake up. We’ll be back by 4:30 p.m. If you need me, call me. I’ll have my phone on while we’re there except when we’re shooting. Other than that, I’ll most likely pick up on the first ring. Oh and-“

“Jin?” Namjoon interrupted him.

“Yeah?” Jin realized he might have been rambling.

“Thanks.”

Jin smiled. “No problem. Just rest okay? No doing stupid things. Don’t try and do housework, don’t work on songs, don’t make calls unless absolutely necessary... or well you know, unless they’re to me.” Jin’s eyes softened. “Feel better Joon-bug.”

Namjoon nodded, and rested his head on the pillow as Jin closed the door.

He heard the other boys close the front door, and suddenly, he was alone in the house.

He felt lonely almost instantly. Turning on the tv was supposed to help, but it didn’t. After one episode of “Housewives of America,” he turned it off and tried to sleep.

He woke up slowly, and turned to face his alarm clock.

“Please be 4:30, please be 4:30...”

The clock read 10:48 a.m. They’d been gone for 46 minutes. Namjoon whined loudly to himself.

He tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use. His nose kept running and his throat hurt badly. He finally just decided to get up and get something to eat.

That task proved to be harder than he originally thought it would be. The moment his feet hit the floor, chills ran cold up and down his spine.

“Aish,” he wrapped his shaking arms around his body. Luckily, he remembered Jin’s statement about the extra blankets, and he was able to turn one of them into a nice cape for him to wear around the house. With that, he trudged to the kitchen and opened the pantry door.

“I deed food.” He sniffled as he eyed the contents of the small room.

Namjoon finally decided on a pack of blueberry muffins, and...

He glanced back at the coffee machine, recalling Jin’s strict warning about the coffee being bad for his stomach. But... Jin wasn’t here soooo....

Namjoon did a sneaky little dance of shuffling over to the machine with a mischievous smirk on his face. When he got there, he took the filter out and there was a small post-it note inside.

“Morning Joonie. I hope you’re feeling some better by the time you read this. I figured you’d come for coffee after I left, so I took all the coffee with me. There’s some tea in the refrigerator that you can warm up for your throat. Remember to rest up, and I’ll see you when we get back.

Ps. If I get home and find out you bought coffee and had it delivered, I will remove our address from every coffee shop record between now and last October. Remember to send your temperature every hour. *hugs*

-Jin”

As much as Namjoon knew that Jin was doing this in his best interest, he really wanted that coffee.

Within the next thirty minutes, he was on the couch with a coffee in hand (thankfully, they delivered). He sipped the beverage happily and took a few nibbles of the muffins he’d gotten from the pantry earlier.

The hot coffee felt great on his throat, and actually helped the muffins to go down easier.

When he’d eaten enough, he checked his phone just to see if he’d gotten any new notifications.

And that’s what he’d forgotten.

11:06 Jin: “how’s that temp bud?”

Okay now he was in trouble. Jin wanted his temperature, but if he gave it to him, his mouth would be wayyy hotter than normal because of the coffee... Then, he had an idea.

11:09 Namjoon: “I’m 99.3. I don’t feel like I’ve got a fever so I think it’s just a little cold.”

Thankfully, he’d remembered that you could take your temperature under your arms too. He meant to wait and see what Jin would say back to him, but he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and decided to take a shower.

Fifteen minutes later, he came out of the shower feeling a lot better. Jin had texted back saying “good, make sure to stay hydrated and rest.”

He smiled at how caring his hyung was, and then turned his phone down. He thought it was best to go ahead and take a nap while he could still breathe. Maybe his symptoms would even be gone by the time he woke up!

Well, as hopeful as he’d been, he was wrong.

Namjoon woke up at 12:45, with his throat hurting more than ever. His nose was so stuffed, he had to breathe through his mouth, which felt like glass scraping his throat brutally.

On top of that, he had started feeling bitterly cold. A couple minutes passed and he took his temperature.

“101.4” Could be worse but could be better. The only problem was, Namjoon had a tendency to get really emotional when he had a fever higher than 100. This was no exception.

Namjoon’s eyes flooded with tears. He wanted the other members here... he wanted Jin here. But they couldn’t be... they had to work. He desperately wanted them home, but he knew they’d have to finish before they could come back. So, he decided to text them.

12:56 Namjoon: “I’m at 101.4.”

12:56 Jin: “Okay. Are you feeling worse? Or just the fever?”

12:58 Namjoon: “I feel bad Jin... my throat hurts, and my nose is stuffy and I can’t breathe. And my stomach hurts.”

As soon as Namjoon hit send, he regretted it. His stomach was starting to hurt because of that coffee from earlier, but Jin would be furious if he figured that out.

Before Namjoon had the chance to defend himself, Jin had texted back.

1:02 Jin: “That’s what I thought. We’ll be home in a few hours okay Joon-bug? Just lie down and drink water or tea until I get there. There are some fever reducers in the cabinet. Only take one, and then in thirty minutes it should start working.”

1:04 Namjoon: “You’re not mad at me?”

1:05 Jin: “Namjoon, you’re sick. I’m not going to fuss at you even though I probably should. I’m not entirely heartless you know.”

Namjoon wiped a hot tear from his cheek. More than anything in the world, he wanted Jin to coddle him.

1:08 Namjoon: “Please hurry home. I need you.”

Namjoon set his phone down and cried a bit into his crab plushie. He would take fever reducer, but it hurt to move. His muscles ached and his skin was so sensitive that even his pajamas seemed to prick him.

His soft cries tightened in his throat. He was in so much pain. Only one thought crossed his mind:

“Please come home Jin. I don’t want to feel this way alone...”

———-

Jin put his phone back in his pocket. His chest was tight with sympathy. There was nothing he wanted more than to hold Namjoon close and tell him it would be okay.

But for now, he had to push that aside. He had problems that were a bit more pressing...

“Jin Hyung! Have you seen my pants? I can’t find my pants.” Jungkook yelled from the other side of the guest room.

“Jin, my snack bag is gone and Hobi is gonna explode if he doesn’t get a sprite in the next 12 seconds.” Yoongi was scrambling around the room.

“Hyung, have you seen my other earring?” Jimin looked totally lost and Taehyung was trying to help.

“Aish. I’m coming just hang on.” Jin then set off to solve all the problems that had been named off. The interview was in 20 minutes and everything that had been mentioned was nearly life or death.

ESPECIALLY Jungkook’s. He really needed to find pants before he just decided to go on without them. Because, he definitely would if given the choice.

——-

Namjoon had managed to fall asleep.

Jin had rushed through everything as fast as he could, and had quickly thanked the interviewer and called for the bus early.

4:00 Jin: “I’m on my way Joon-bug. Hang in there for me.”

When Namjoon actually fully woke up, he felt a hand on his back. It hurt against his skin, but he hoped that it meant Jin was back. He turned over, and sure enough, it was.

“Grande? You had to get a grande coffee? You’re gonna take out that stomach of yours.” Jin was smiling, which told Namjoon that he wasn’t really upset with him.

“I really wadted it Jin. Like, really really.” He sniffled. His nose was back to running.

“Yeah yeah I’m aware.” Jin popped out a fever reducer pill and grabbed a bottle of water.

“Now take this for me. I’d check your temperature again but just feeling your forehead earlier told me enough.”

Namjoon did still feel chilled, even under three blankets. His throat was sore, and speaking was hard.

Luckily for Jin, this meant he couldn’t protest taking his medicine.

“Alright, open up for me.” Jin placed the tablet on the younger’s tongue and then lifted the bottle of water to his lips. When he’d taken it, he eased Namjoon back down onto the pillow.

“How’s your throat feeling?” Jin asked, taking the leader’s hand in his own.

Namjoon didn’t want to speak so he just shook his head sadly.

“Alright bug. Just wait here, and I’ll go warm up some tea. I’ll probably put a little something in it for your stomach too since I can literally hear it bubbling from the coffee still.” Jin patted Namjoon’s hand and then got up from the bed. He closed the door and started to walk up the hallway.

Namjoon just smiled. Since Jin was home, he knew he’d be better in no time.

[starbuckie]

Some Quarantine Lovin’ Chapter 4: Hopelessly Devoted

Marvel Highschool! AU

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Obscene amounts of fluff, kissing, swearing, kinda a lot of angst

Description: Bucky Barnes is absolutely, no doubt about it, in love with Y/N L/N. He’s loved her since the day he laid eyes on her in the third grade. He loved her when he had his own girlfriend, and when he was barely friends with her for a whole summer. And of course, in his freshman year, they are now stuck together. In a house. During a worldwide quarantine. This should be fun.

Words: 3660 words

A/N: I’m so sorry I haven’t updated this story in a month! I was working on some other things, and I had to take a little break because I was still exhausted from school. This chapter is mostly fluffy, and I’ve been so, so excited to share it with you guys. Thank you to my girl @transparentfestivaltiger​ for being my favorite beta, and always feel free to leave requests in my asks. I hope you enjoy <3

Waking up the next morning, Y/N reached her hands out to find the usual warm body of her best friend next to her, but the bedsheets were cold. She sat up looking around, and remembered why she was sleeping in her mom and dad’s room. 

The night before had been a mess. Memories of Bucky’s confession and her running out of the room like a coward came flooding back in her mind. He thinks I’m beautiful. The weight of that sentence had hit Y/N like a freight train the night before, but she processed it slowly now. “I mean,” she murmured, “he did call me beautiful. But is that supposed to mean something? Nat and Wanda are beautiful, but he never tells them that.” To be frankly honest, she was terrified. Maybe running out wasn’t her best idea, but she had no other response to what he said. 

Bucky’s quiet footsteps padded in the hallway outside the bedroom and stopped at her door. Y/N could hear his soft breathing, but then his footsteps retreated. Taking a deep breath, she heaved herself up from the bed and straightened the sheets. Her parents would be back at around six that night, so she had about nine more hours of tiptoeing around Bucky. 

Once she was dressed, she slipped out into the hallway and walked to the kitchen. She checked her phone, seeing it was nine o’clock and grumbled after realizing she had her first class in thirty minutes. The smell of coffee filled the room as she started up the machine. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the counter and breathed in the morning air. She had left the window in the kitchen open the night before, so the slight breeze they had in Brooklyn came into her house. Her nerves were still a little frazzled from the events that had taken place, but her ultimate decision was to talk to him and get it sorted out. 

Soon enough, the machine beeped and Bucky came into the room. “Mornin’ Y/N,” he said nervously, “how’d you sleep?”

She eyed him with an anxious gaze. “I slept… well, if I’m gonna be honest, not fine.”

He sighed heavily and came over to hug her. At first her body tensed, but soon enough she wrapped her arms around him too. Affection wasn’t new for them, but after the previous night she felt it to be a bit awkward. As they held each other, he spoke. “I’m sorry if I came off as a bit, uh, strange last night. I didn’t mean what I said.”

She took a step back. “I’m not beautiful?”

His eyes widened quickly. “No, no, well, no, you are beautiful, that wasn’t a lie, but like I say that about all of you guys. Nat, Wanda, heck, I said that about my little sister! Wait, that’s weird, you’re not like my sister, but you are beautiful-”

Sighing, Y/N cut him off before her heart broke even more. “Bucky, it’s fine, I get it.” Turning around, she held her tears at bay, and accepted the fact that Bucky had let his words slip from his mouth too quick the night before. It was just a slip of the tongue. “You want some coffee?”

He murmured, “yeah, sure.” Once again, the room was shrouded in silence, as Bucky leaned against the counter and Y/N contained brewing the coffee. 

Y/N was growing restless over the strange quiet. As much as she was hurt over what Bucky had said, she didn’t like not talking to him either. “Did you know that caffeine can increase athletic ability by three percent?”

Though she wasn’t staring directly at him, she could tell that his eyes were widened slightly by her random outburst. “Um, no, I didn’t know that, doll.”

Meeting his eyes, she bit her lip. God, the silence was deafening. “Well, yeah, um… it’s true.” Real smooth, L/N, real smooth.

Sighing, he walked over and grabbed her hand. “Doll, I can tell that both of us are still a little shaken up about last night, so I’m gonna go set up for class, ‘cuz I’ve got Ms. Willard first for Algebra 2, and she hates it when we’re late. I’ll talk to you later, Y/N.”

He started to walk away, but not before dropping a lingering kiss to her forehead. Y/N’s eyes followed him out of the kitchen, and she shut them and let out the breath she didn’t even know she had been holding. When her coffee was finally brewed, she grabbed two of the blue ceramic mugs her mom loved so much and filled them up with coffee. Two tablespoons of milk and one of sugar, just how Bucky liked it. 

After she fixed her drink, she carefully tread into her dad’s small office where Bucky did his classes. “Hey, Bucky, I know you’re setting up now, but I left some coffee for you on the counter, and feel free to grab some fruit, too.”

Smiling, he nodded and said, “Thanks, Y/N.” Heart racing from that small encounter, Y/N ran into her room, grabbed her phone off of her nightstand, and threw herself on the bed, ready to talk to Nat and Wanda in the little time you had before class. Opening the group chat with the girls, she saw that they had already started a FaceTime call on the chat. Clicking the “join” button, she prepared to tell the whole story of events that had taken place.

“Hey, girly! We didn’t hear much from you last night,” Wanda chirped. Y/N always teased her friend about how chipper she was in the morning. “Are you okay?”

Nat grinned at the camera. “How are things with you and lover boy?”

“Ooh, I wanna hear about this.” Wanda laughed and wiggled her eyebrows. 

“Lucky for you two, I have a whole story for you.” Y/N proceeded to tell them about everything, from the whisper of a kiss, to the awkward morning she had just been a part of. “I feel like I’m stepping on eggshells around him, and I wish we would acknowledge it, instead of having a huge goddamn elephant in the room!” 

“Well, his feelings are very clear, my dearest Y/N, and if you didn’t notice that when you two almost kissed, you're more of an idiot than I thought you were.” Nat responded. “That boy has been head over heels for you ever since the third grade, so you running out on Bucky probably gave him the idea that you didn’t like him back.”

Bucky heard his best friend’s voice from the kitchen. While Y/N was well known for her loud voice within their friend group, he always did his best to respect her privacy with the girls and what they talked about. However, once Natasha said his name, he ran over to her door as quietly as he could to hear the rest of the conversation.

“But I fucking love Bucky!” Her exclamation made the girls giggle as her face heated up. She did love him in a romantic way, but the girls didn’t know that so she continued to lie through her teeth. “Okay, I don’t love him, love him, but yes, I like him a lot. And him almost kissing me really could have messed our relationship up. I mean, imagine if we broke up? That would tear the group in two. And that’s only if he even likes me back.” Y/N chuckled mirthlessly. “I mean, he’s been my best friend for years, I can’t exactly tell him that I have a hugeass crush on him and he’s the center of my universe and every waking thought I have.”

Sighing, she looked back to the screen. The only thing heard over the FaceTime call was Natasha’s washing machine thumping through the walls. Finally, Wanda spoke up. “We should probably get going, I’ve got Sam’s mom for history first, and as much as she loves me, she’ll kick my ass if I’m not ready. I’ll talk to you guys later?”

Natasha smirked. “Oh, definitely. And Y/N?” She looked to Nat on her phone screen. “I think you should talk with Bucky still. Knowing you, you’re both very dense, but if you talk it out soon, you’ll be making out and showing gross amounts of PDA in no time. Stay safe, Wanda.”

 On that note, the three girls ended the call. Little did Y/N know that Bucky was leaned up against her doors, trying his damn hardest not to yell with glee, a huge dopey smile on his face. She liked him back. He had been so certain after almost kissing the night before that she found the thought of being with him repulsive, so he had tried to play it off cool and pretended that he didn’t care about it. After hearing Y/N’s little speech, Bucky was absolutely amazed that his best friend and dream girl also liked him back. 

Still smiling, he walked back down the hallway, giggling randomly. Now all he had to do was say it. He returned to the small office and took his phone off the charger. His heart was beating rapidly, and he contacted Sam and Steve as fast as he could. When their faces popped up on the screen, the latter immediately called him out on the dopey grin he adorned. 

“What’s got you smiling this early, Buck? It’s only nine twenty,” Steve asked.

Sam joined in, adding onto Steve’s statement. “Yeah, especially you, Mr. Heckles. You’re an absolute menace in the mornings.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but kept grinning. “Y/N likes me.” Both of his friends scoffed at that, which made him frown. “What?”

“That’s what we’ve been telling you all throughout middle school, you douche, but what made you realize it?” Steve inquired.

“I overheard her talking to the girls about it,” Bucky said with a sheepish smile on his face, but he continued before the other two could scold him about invading Y/N’s privacy. “But she said that she was scared of messing our friendship up when we almost kissed last night. And she called me the center of her universe.”

Both of the boys went silent, and Bucky started to worry. “Guys? You there?” 

“You almost kissed?”

“Good god, Bucky, she likes you!”

Sam and Steve both yelled at the same time. He just laughed at their reactions. Nothing could bring his mood down today. “I know! I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my entire life.”

Sam, though exasperated with Bucky’s previous obliviousness, smiled at his lovestruck expression. “You know, you two make me absolutely sick with how much you like each other. It physically makes me want to throw up and cry.”

“Yeah, it’s sweet and all, but how are you gonna tell her?” Steve asked. As happy as he was for his best friend, he knew that Y/N would be upset to hear that Bucky invaded her privacy and listened in on her conversation with the girls. 

“I’ve been wondering about that too. I was just thinking of dropping hints, and waiting until she gets the idea to tell me, but I can think of some other things too.” 

“Or maybe you can just not be stupid and tell Y/N straight up.” Sam suggested.

Bucky frowned. “But I want her to tell me first.”

“Jesus, Barnes, you're a child. It’s not that hard, just tell her you like her, nothing else needs to be explained. She’s so far gone for you, and you know it too! Why do you need more from her?” 

But Bucky needed that confirmation. Verbal corroboration that she liked him just as he was, and reassured him that he was enough. She had told the girls, and he had overheard, but what if he had been wrong? Negative thoughts plagued his mind, and he couldn’t get them to leave. 

“I just want to make sure that she was talking about me, because it’d be mortifying if I told her and she wasn’t.” Bucky replied.

Through the screen, Steve nodded. “That makes sense, Buck, just make sure you tell her soon, okay? We’ve all been waiting for this moment since sixth grade, don’t screw it up.”

The brown-haired boy chuckled at his friend's father-like speech. “I got it, Steve. Hey, I’ll talk to you guys soon, class starts in like, five minutes.” Sam and him were in the same Algebra 2 class, advanced for their grade, but the other four in their friend group were still in Geometry. “See you in class, Sam.”

The boys all hung up on the call, and Bucky went to log into the Zoom class. Usually, he would be excited to learn, as he wanted to be a college professor when he grew up, but now he just waited until it was over so he could start dropping hints to Y/N that he liked her too.

Across the house, Y/N sat in her chair in her bedroom, nearly passing out in her history class and barely paying attention to anything Mrs. Wilson was saying. Her thoughts, once again, drifted off to thoughts of the night before, and how good it would feel to have Bucky kiss her. His lips had always looked so soft, and ever since she had realized she had a crush on him way back in sixth grade, she wondered what they would feel like on hers. 

Apparently Mrs. Wilson also noticed Y/N’s absentminded state, as she didn’t respond to her after calling her name several times. “Y/N! Are you still awake?”

The girl quickly snapped out of her daydream. “Yes, ma’am, I mean, uh, Mrs. Wilson,” she said in a small voice. Her face felt warm and she could see Wanda laughing at her through the screen. “Sorry, I was just a little distracted.”

“That much was clear, Y/N. You have your farming versus foraging essay draft due in two classes, so you have the rest of the period to work on it. If you want you can leave the class, but you can stay if you have questions,” Mrs. Wilson coolly responded. She knew Y/N was a good student, as she kept up with her grades and was a great friend to Sam. 

“I think I’m okay, Mrs. Wilson. I’ll see you next class!” With a wave, she ended her part of the call, and took a deep sigh. Class was absolutely exhausting for her. Checking the time on her phone, she saw it was only ten-fifteen and headed to the kitchen to get more coffee. Her finger swiped through her Spotify playlists, when she finally landed on the one containing her favorite songs from musicals. As the notes to “Opening Up” came on, she twirled around the room, despite barely knowing ballet, and hummed along. Y/N didn’t hear the quiet footsteps of Bucky, who had also managed to get out of class early. As he approached the kitchen, he heard his friend’s soft voice carrying out the lyrics of the song. From Waitress, if he remembered correctly. 

He leaned against the doorway of the room, watching her turn about and skip around with a smile on his face. Her carefree and happy demeanor was one of his favorite things about her, and it made her smile absolutely infectious. As she turned back around again, her eyes met Bucky’s and her face heated up. “Hey, Buck, I didn’t see you there.” She couldn’t help but stare at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open. “Um, not to sound rude, but where’s your shirt?” Y/N squeaked out.

While he did promise Steve he would tell her soon, he also wanted to tease her, which resulted in his idea of walking around with no shirt. His well-sculpted abs from baseball workouts were on display, and though she knew she was looking, she didn't look away. He smirked at her flustered state, and walked towards her, forcing her gaze back up to his eyes. “It was getting hot in the room,” he replied simply.

“W-we have a fan in there, you know?” She stammered out. He grinned wider and hummed in response.

“I heard you talking to the girls earlier. Anything interesting come up?” He asked in a nonchalant tone. She looked into his eyes, but saw the mischievous glint in them. Oh god, did he hear? Heart beating erratically in her chest, she quickly shook her head. 

“Nope! Nothin’ at all. Tasha was just talking about how she’s been passing out watching reruns of Project Runway, so nothing unusual,” she lied. Well, technically it wasn’t a lie, as Natasha really had an unhealthy habit of bingeing her fashion reality tv shows, but Y/N was well aware that she wasn’t telling Bucky the whole truth. “Why, did you hear something?”

Bucky shook his head with a fake frown. “Nope.” Y/N could tell something was up, but she didn’t dare say it out loud, for fear of getting in an argument with him. The tension wasn’t so much awkward as it was hot, but nonetheless Y/N still didn’t want to upset Bucky, and went to grab her mug to put her now-ready coffee into.  Bucky walked up right behind her, brushing up to her back, placing his right hand on her hip with a firm grip. She noticeably stiffened against him, and he had to use all his will to not laugh at her reaction. He reached up to grab a glass with his left arm, and squeezed her hip before walking away to get water at the sink. Y/N yelped, as it was an intimate gesture, and her face heated up even more, if that was possible.

Fed up with Bucky’s strange behavior, she turned around and faced him. “What is it, Buck?” Her tone had a definite edge to it, and it was not what he was expecting. “You’ve been acting weird this whole morning, and I want to know what it is! If it’s because of what happened last night, then I don’t wanna hear it, because you’re the one who said-”

“I heard you on the phone with Nat and Wanda, doll.” Bucky had to tell her. He could sense her rising agitation, and he knew that she would be upset, but he felt that if he didn’t tell her soon, he would combust. “I heard what you said.”

Y/N could have sworn that her heart stopped. He had heard her. God, he must’ve thought she was so creepy for talking about how much she liked him. Though his face showed unwavering kindness, she knew what lay beneath it. Absolute disgust. There was no way he liked her like that.

“You heard that?” She was certain that he could hear her heartbeat slowly picking up from the other side of the kitchen. “Hey, Buck, I’m so, so sorry you heard that…” Y/N’s hurried apology stopped when he held up his hand. 

“Did you mean it? What you said?” His blue eyes were staring right into hers, and she had a feeling that was the last time she would get to see them clearly for a long time as she nodded languidly. He would never be comfortable around her again, after this weird confession.

Silence followed, until Bucky  stalked towards her and tilted her chin up with his thumb. “I need you to say it, Y/N.”

Confused and embarrassed, Y/N nodded again and gently whispered. “What you heard was true. I like you, James. A whole damn lot.”

His eyes searched her teary ones for a lie, and when he didn’t find one, he surged forward to connect their lips. Immediately, Y/N pulled away, eyes wide with surprise, but he took her face in his hands and brought them together again. She was startled, but closed her eyes, and let herself fall into it. All her worried thoughts fell silent, and all she could think was Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, and closer, closer, closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him towards her, and let his tongue swipe across her bottom lip. 

After nearly running out of breath, they both let their foreheads rest against each other, panting heavily. Bucky opened his eyes first, smiling wide at her swollen lips and closed eyes. When Y/N opened them, she smiled, but then wondered what the actual fuck had just happened. “Wait, what does this mean?” She asked in a breathy whisper.

“It means I like you a damn lot too, doll.” A huge smile spread across her face, making Bucky’s heart beat just a bit faster. He brought his hand down to her waist and pulled her flush against his bare chest, bringing their lips together again. After a few more passionate moments sharing breath, she pulled away, once again out of breath. 

“Damn, James, you’re fucking good at that.” Her soft hands cupped his cheeks, and his smile quickly turned into the infamous smirk she loved.

“Well, I do have a lot of experience from when I was with Do-”

Placing her hand over his mouth, which truly only turned him on more, Y/N said, “Don’t you dare utter that girl’s name in my presence, Buck.”

“You jealous, sweetheart?” 

She rolled her eyes at his expression, and placed her head in the crook of his neck. He got shivers as she mumbled into his neck, “‘M not jealous, I just don’t like people touching my baby.”

He looked down at her snuggled into his neck. “Am I your baby now, doll?” She nodded against his skin, making him grin again. “I like being your baby.”

Looking back up at him, Y/N smiled. “Good,” she said, and brought her lips to his again, giggling throughout the kiss.

TAGLIST

@transparentfestivaltiger @barnesjamcs

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Just Right: Chris

CW: Head-banging stim referenced, stimming in general in a negative context, derogatory language about stimming, referenced past abuse/noncon, institutional whump, referenced whump of a minor, conditioning, memory loss, traumatic deaths of family referenced, traumatic memory recovery, getting glass out of  foot referenced

Tagging @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxck-fxck, @slaintetowhump

PREVIOUS (COME BACK)​

No one comes back.

He waits and waits, but no one comes back. People stand on the sidewalk, for a while, the old lady and her grandson and some other people besides. Chris doesn’t listen to them, although the sounds filter in, bounce around his mind, occasional words and half-formed sentences that he doesn’t want to understand.

Instead, Chris focuses as hard as he can on the memory of Jake promising Chris won’t be left alone. It’s difficult to focus - he’s scared and didn’t sleep last night, and the birds are loud outside and there’s so much glass that catches the light and bounces pretty white reflections off all the walls - but he tries, he tries so hard, to remember that Jake won’t make him be alone forever.

They can’t keep Jake away forever.

Can they?

The people leave. Breakfast is there, and lunch, and dinner, right on the porch where the old woman said they’d be. Chris drifts through the day, and his thoughts cycle and circle and he can’t keep them still long enough to decide what to do beyond just… staying alive. He has to stay alive. He has to wait. 

The first night, he doesn’t sleep. He waits, and waits, and tries to remember how to calm his thoughts, but nothing comes.

All he can think of is that Antoni and Leila were supposed to wait for him, but it took too long, and once the door broke down they had to go. Somewhere they’re safe, somewhere else, with the other ones, the ones Chris has heard about but hasn’t met. Kauri, who never sits still, Kauri is safe, too, somewhere else. Chris is the only one left.

Chris is the only one here to wait.

He tries to clean but he doesn’t remember how to do it very well. He washes the dishes in the sink, he can do that - and he empties out the coffee pot, full and long-since gone cold, and sets the coffee up for the next day, even though he knows no one will be here to drink it, but maybe if he makes the coffee someone will come back.

The first day, he brews the coffee, and no one comes. But maybe the second day will be different. He dumps the pot again and goes through the motions.

They destroyed the house and the television is turned over and shattered all along its front, they cut up the couch cushions even. Nothing is the same, and everything is wrong. Chris tries to sweep up the glass in Jake’s room from the lamp and steps in it instead, letting out a wild, high-pitched cry at a stab of pain straight up his leg. He can’t get the glass out, he’s too scared to touch it, and he hobbles around leaving bloody trails everywhere he goes, limping, whimpering and wishing there was anyone, anyone left.

If Jake was here, he’d sit Chris down in the bathroom and use his cell phone as a flashlight and use tweezers and Chris would watch him stick his tongue out a little like he does when he’s thinking really hard about something. Then Leila would fuss over him and Antoni would sing him songs in Russian, which Antoni doesn’t know anymore but still remembers the songs. Chris doesn’t know what Russian looks like, but he knows the sounds of the notes Antoni sings, the way his mouth shapes the letters.

Tak byvayet - staneshʹ vzrosleye ty

I, kak ptitsa, vvysʹ uletishʹ

Kem by ni byl, znay, chto dlya mamy ty 

Kak i prezhde, ilyy malysh

Chris is bad at remembering things and bad at knowing words and bad at most things, he thinks, sometimes, but when he does remember something it pops in fully-formed, and he remembers Antoni singing the songs to himself, songs he doesn’t remember in his head but his body still knows, anyway.

See, we are still in here, Antoni says, tapping the side of his own head with one finger, flashing a smile. They didn’t take it all out, it’s only hidden, Chrisha.

Why do you call me that?

I don’t… I don’t know. But I will, Chrisha. I will know, soon, and I’ll tell you once I do.

But Antoni can’t tell him, because he’s gone. Everyone is gone. There’s no one but him, now.

He’s alone, and he’s not made to be alone, they told him he couldn’t be alone or he’ll suffer and shrivel up and die, and Chris hits his head on the wall and taps his fingers desperately on the floor and cries into the hardwood, but none of it helps, because he’s still alone when he stops tapping, stops hitting, stops listening, when he stops.

All alone. 

Just like last time, some dim part of him remembers, but there wasn’t a last time, and he doesn’t know what he’s thinking about. It’s just part of the cycle of too many thoughts at once, dipping in and out of his conscious mind. It’s just another thing that slides in and around the calls of the birds and the rustle-clatter of a squirrel leaping across tree branches, the splashing sound of something in the birdbath in the yard, Doves mean peace and pigeons get no love, but they’re the same bird, baby, just a little different coloration. That’s you, honey, just a different way of being in the world and we’ll figure it out. We’ll figure you out, little dove-

He doesn’t know whose voice he keeps thinking of and he misses her so much it’s a physical pain inside his chest, making his mouth open to cry long after the tears have dried. He makes strange dry sobbing sounds, hiccups really, that come with no tears but grief pours from him in a wave, grief that he didn’t know could still be in there for a woman he doesn’t remember, doesn’t recognize, has never met.

He doesn’t know who she is and it’s his fault she’s gone.

His fault Jake is gone, they were looking for him, he knows it somehow. It’s certainty, deep in his bones. They always said if he ran, someone would find him and bring him back to Sir, and he was so good, he didn’t run, Miss Megan asked him to get in her car and Baldur was always so good for guests, and, and it’s not his fault but it’s his fault Jake is gone.

He can’t think, the circles run too fast, there are too many thoughts and not one will let him pin it down. Instead they bounce and jump and leap and crash and bash the inside of his skull, tired not tired hurt my fault not my fault where did he go come back you promised you promised you’d come back don’t leave me I don’t know where I am I don’t know how to do this the squirrels are loud today the birds are quiet do the birds know did the mourning dove know you’d be taken away from me too just a different way of being, honey, mom come back mom don’t leave jake don’t leave me alone you promised you promised you promised you promised

you promised

No one comes back. Not the first day Chris is alone, not the second.

Chris falls asleep, eventually, after the sun goes down on the second day. He curls up on the floor near the spot of dried blood, wrapping himself in Jake’s blankets until even the floor beneath him feels nearly soft. He lays his head down on Nat’s pillow and Jake’s, too, breathing in their scents and tapping on the floor, on himself, on the wall. 

He won’t leave the last bit of Jake he can see, the spot where his head hit the wall. He’ll stay right here, in the house, and stay close.

He fell asleep beside the blood before, too, in the thing he can’t remember, the reason for the pain so deep in his chest, twisting his heart in knots until he wonders if people can die like this, can die of pain in their hearts that comes from inside their heads.

Sleep is thin and drawn, it’s the way he slept in training, and Chris shifts and murmurs and cries in his dreams, blood and bone and bits of worse gray bits on the wall, screaming woman shouting man men with guns, but they turn the gun on him, the men, and they say what the fuck is a kid doing here? You have a kid, you goddamn bastard? 

And Jake is the shouting man and he is yelling of course I have a fucking kid, what did you think all the fucking trophies were for, did you think I’m the one who’s gonna be in the Olympics?

Flash and burst of sound, deaf in the dark. Chris flinches in his sleep, from moments that aren’t real because he doesn’t remember them, and false memories happen when you’ve been erased. It’s not real. None of it happened. It’s not real.

The phone rings in the early hours of the morning - there have been two sunrises since they took Jake and Nat away - and wakes him with a start, but Chris doesn’t dare answer it. He only stares at the old bit of plastic and wiring that hangs on the wall as though it might come to life and bite him, and eventually it stops ringing, the answering machine picks up, and whoever called hangs up without saying a thing.

Chris falls back asleep.

This time, he doesn’t dream.

The next time he wakes up, he can hear murmuring voices, and he goes still and quiet and tense on the floor, keeping his face turned down, letting his hair hide his eyes so no one will know he’s awake. 

“Shit, they did a fuckin’ number, didn’t they?” It’s a man’s voice, rough-edged and angry, and Chris fights the urge to curl in on himself, to hide all the soft parts and hope he will not be hit or kicked or hurt for being bad again. 

“Why would they do this?” A woman, and her voice is softer, sweeter. Chris swallows. They were only a few female handlers, but they spoke in quieter voices and were meaner, too. So much meaner, even when they didn’t have to be, even when he tried to be good. “What were they trying to accomplish, Ruth?”

“Y’know damn well.” That’s the old woman whose grandson has brought him food, and Chris carefully shifts around. They don’t know he’s right where he can see them, the pile of blankets is wrapped so tightly it looks like nothing more than another pile of the debris left behind. He moves just enough to look, through his hair, at a small crowd of people just outside the broken front door.

His eyes struggle to understand, but they seem to be holding… plastic buckets, and mops, and other things for cleaning. The thoughts bounce and jump, but he tries to grab on, to grasp them even though his heart is sick with fear and his mind wants to tumble after it.

“It’s fear, is what it is,” The first person, the man, snaps. “They want us to be fuckin’ afraid to be like Natalie, that’s what they want. I’m not afraid of them.”

“Easy to say when you don’t have kids to worry about,” The younger woman, maybe Jake’s age, replies, but she doesn’t look scared to Chris. She looks strong. She looks brave, holding her mop and bucket with a little baby strapped on her back, staring into the house over her shoulder, scruff of dark hair standing up nearly straight on its little rounded head.

“My Wilbur went through some of this,” The old woman - Ruth? - says, nodding firmly. “There’s no shame in fear, but there is shame in lettin’ fear keep you standing outside the door when there’s work to be done. Jaden’ll be back with his little friends to help in a bit, I’ve promised ‘em all the pizza they can eat. Now. This door isn’t locked, but it does make a hell of a screamin’ sound, so I think we’ll prob’ly wake the poor thing up, wherever he’s hiding.”

The woman’s eyes roam across the walls, then catch on the spot of Jake’s blood on the wall. Chris feels a wild urge to yell don’t look at it, that makes it real, but he doesn’t know why. Instead he curls up tighter, tapping under the blankets against his own skin. Finger-twist-tap-tap-tap, finger-twist-tap-tap-tap.

Now, Baldur, honey, you know better than to do that. I don’t like it when you do that, do I?

No, Sir, no, y-you, you don’t, you don’t like when I, when, when when when-

Baldur. Silence is better than stammering.

… Yes, Sir. I’m sorry my… words are bad, Sir.

That’s better.

Chris bites down hard on his lower lip, catching the protest before it can be spoken out loud, because the woman he doesn’t remember said you have to talk or no one can hear you, and Nat always says to speak how he wants to, and Jake says his words are fine, they’re fine, he’s fine even if he’s not the way they are, he’s fine he’s fine he’s not fine and Jake is never coming back but he promised, he promised, he promised-

Something about his movements must get her attention, because he hears the woman in the doorway catch her breath. “He’s right here, Ruth.”

Chris slowly raises his head. His foot aches where the glass is still stuck inside it, and it protests as he pushes up to sitting and has to move his legs, keeping the blankets wrapped around himself, pushing his back into the wall. 

“Oh, baby.” Ruth smiles at him, one of those sad smiles you give people when you feel sorry for them, and Chris pulls further into himself, dropping his head back against the wall, taking the momentary feeling for the comfort he so badly needs it to be. “I’m back, honey. I brought you some sausage biscuits for breakfast, and I brought some friends, too. This here is Naomi, she lives on your left in the house with the blue porch ceiling-” The woman with the baby waves the mop in a kind of greeting, nearly knocking the angry man in the head. “-and that’s her little girl Kaelah. And this touch of grump is Jefferson, he lives right across the street.” The angry man waves, too.

Chris, tentatively, raises a hand to wave back, his fingers just barely bending at the knuckles.

“Now, I know you’re scared, honey, I understand, but we’re here to help you clean this place back up before your people come back. Can we come in?”

Chris’s eyes roam from one face to the next, looking for signs of cruelty, looking for the kind of smile his Sir would give him. He sees nothing but openness on all of them - Jefferson with the bit of anger, but it’s not really at him, it’s at the house, what happened here. Naomi with her slight smile for him, and her little girl Kaelah grabbing at fistfuls of Naomi’s hair and sticking it in her own tiny mouth to chew on. Ruth, the same wrinkles and gray-and-black hair, the same open kindness, compassion, looking at him with the same look she’d given her own grandson the day before.

They wait, and eventually Chris presses his lips together and nods. The door scrapes loud along the floor, and he flinches back from the sound, pulling Jake’s blanket as tightly around him as it will go. 

“I’ll take the living room,” Jefferson says, his eyes roaming over the shattered television, the cut-up couch cushions and stuffing littered everywhere. “Ben and I bought a new couch a week ago, the old one’s just been sitting in the den while we figure what to do with it. I’ll call some people, have it moved in here.”

“We got a TV we don’t need in our bedroom,” Naomi says, looking around as well. “I’ll start in the-…” Her eyes move to the open-framed doorway to the kitchen, staring at the shattered wreck of ceramic, the little path that Chris had made by pushing all the wreckage to the side. The coffeemaker with its full pot still piping hot, untouched. “… we got extra plates, too, I’ll get those. I’ll call my girl Kari, that woman’s a hoarder waiting to happen and she’s got half a whole house sitting on her porch taking up space. Did they leave this poor kid anything?”

Chris clears his throat, swallows around the nervous lump there, and says, hoarsely, “Th-they, they, they left the, um, the, the food in the fridge.”

“Well, that’s a small mercy and I’ll say a prayer for that,” Ruth says, stepping inside herself, rubbing her hands together, a wedding ring with a diamond glittering on her left hand. “Let’s pray the Lord shows His mercy on the ones who did this.”

“I don’t see why we should,” Jefferson snaps, already in the living room, his boots crunching on something before he lifts his foot to sigh. “Glass is fucking everywhere.”

“We should pray for the Lord to show mercy,” Ruth says, in the voice of a woman who will brook no appeal, “because I sure as hell wouldn’t. Leavin’ a boy here in this wreck all alone.” Ruth screwed her mouth up like she might want to spit. “Imagine it, just imagine leaving a boy here all on his lonesome.”

“Th-they… they didn’t know, know I was here,” Chris says, softly. “I was hiding. I have a hiding place.”

“Hiding,” The man says tightly. “You hear that, Miss Ruth? Hiding while they fuckin’ trashed everything around him. Fucking hiding. You know who else had to fuckin’ hide in goddamn-”

“Don’t you curse the Lord’s name near me, young man.”

“… sorry, Miss Ruth.”

“Besides, I know, Jefferson. If you think I don’t know damn well… but gettin’ ourselves all worked up won’t help this boy in the here and now, will it?”

A muscle twitches in the angry man’s cheek. It reminds Chris of Jake, even though they are so different, Jake all blond hair and scruffy stubble and Jefferson looks like a cowboy in the movies Jake watches late at night, skinny-hipped in worn-out blue jeans with a giant belt buckle and hard-lined set to his jaw. But the anger - the deep-down rage - that’s the same. 

It’s not rage he has to be scared of, but rage meant to protect him, and Chris’s heart twists in a good way this time. 

“Yes, Miss Ruth.” Jefferson frowns.

Ruth sighs, her eyes roaming, taking in the enormous task ahead of them. Well… we’d best get started, the day won’t get any younger.” She holds out her hand and Chris looks up at her, hesitating before he lets her take his hand and help him onto his feet. He stands with one leg bent, to keep the weight off the glass still embedded in his heel. Jake’s blanket falls down around him to puddle on the floor at his feet. “Baby boy, what are you wearing?”

In the kitchen, Naomi is already on the phone, speaking to someone in hushed hurried tones, while baby Kaelah bats happily at her mother’s shoulders with her hands, legs swinging bare out the sides of the carrier she’s settled in.

Chris looks down, then back up. “Wh-what I, what I always wear to, to to to sleep in.” Jake’s shirt, the one he’d shoved into Chris’s hands before, before, before-

Before they took you away from me.

“Sweetie, you look like a toddler tryin’ t’wear his daddy’s clothes,” Ruth says gently. “Y’got anything left of your own, or did they tear that up, too?”

Chris shakes his head, slowly, his eyes moving to the stairs. “I, I have clothes. Um. I have clothes but, but, but but but I don’t want to, to walk on the stairs, it’ll, um, I have, I have, um, there’s there’s glass in my, in my, in my my my-”

“Glass in your foot?” Ruth asks, gently. “You step on somethin’, honey?”

Chris nods, balancing on one foot and twisting his other leg to show her the mess of his heel, with the glass still deeply inside.

“Oh honey, that had to hurt,” Ruth murmured. “Jefferson, can you-”

“Got it, Miss Ruth. You’re the CO on this little enterprise.”

“Don’t you ‘CO’ me, Jefferson, this ain’t the army.”

Jefferson laughs, and Chris feels like the walls are soaking up the sound, and his breathing eases. His lungs feel less constricted, less held still. He feels a little less frozen. He is aware without knowing that there was a time when no one came the next day, or the day after that, or the day after that. 

But this time isn’t going to be like that. It’s going to be different, and he’s going to remember this.

Naomi pops her head back into the entryway. “Kari’s packin’ up, and I told them a bit of what happened - just that the cops trashed the place and left a kid behind, that’s all, they don’t know what Nat does. Kari’s husband wants to come help, too, and he’s bringin’ a buddy. Guy knows somebody who knows somebody in the movement, I guess. They’re callin’ around to see if any of the lib people will come on over to sit with the kid.”

“They won’t,” Ruth says, after a moment’s pause. “Unless it’s different than it was when Wilbur was in it. They’re islands, Naomi, always have been.”

“If a volcano blows up an island,” Naomi says, her voice edged with something Chris doesn’t understand, eyes suddenly hard and flinty, “You can’t tell me the other islands wouldn’t send some fuckin’ boats to find survivors.”

“Volcanoes are part of nature,” Ruth says, almost primly. “This isn’t natural at all.”

Ruth and Naomi share a long look, and then the woman and her baby disappear back into the kitchen.

“Ben’ll be over in about an hour, he’s calling in sick and setting someone else to take his meetings for the day,” Jefferson offers, breaking the moment of strange, weighted silence. “And I don’t work at the bar ‘til 6:30, so I got time. Ben says he’ll call a couple of people, too.”

Chris stares around at them, and feels tears stinging his eyes. He taps the inside of his wrist with his other hand, rhythmic, soothing the ache inside him, but it’s not quite the same kind of ache it was before. 

“Jaden’s bringin’ three or four of his little friends,” Ruth says firmly. “Which make us quite the crowd, and we can get this all cleaned up in no time, can’t we? And we got pizza for lunch. Jefferson, I don’t spend my good clean money on liquor, but you can, if you want.”

Jefferson laughs again. “Understood, Miss Ruth. Okay, little one let’s fix your foot-… hey, what’s your name?” He tilted his head, watching Chris with kind, dark eyes. 

Chris looks over at Ruth, who nods and squeezes his hands lightly, then lets go. The touch felt so good he nearly moves closer, back into it. He likes being touched, he’s supposed to like being touched, any way at all. “M-my, my name is, my name is, is is is Chris, my name is-… I picked the name, the, the name Chris, I picked it myself.”

His voice is low, worried they’ll laugh, but Jefferson grins at him, and it tugs a smile from Chris in return. “That’s a good choice, Chris. Now, look, we got half a couch cushion and I think that’s enough for your skinny butt. So take a seat, and I’ll get you cleaned up in no time.” He takes Chris’s arm now, helping him hobble his way into the living room, to sit slowly down on the undamaged part of the couch, holding his heel out for the man to take in warm fingers, pressing here and there, apologizing in a low voice when Chris hisses at the sharp stab of pain.

He taps hard on the couch, closing his eyes so he won’t see what happens, feeling a little faint at the thought of the clear glass shard coming out of his foot. Finger-twist-tap, finger-twist-tap, finger-twist-tap-

“What are you doin’ there, Chris?” Jefferson asks, and Chris stops.

“Nothing,” He whispers, keeping his voice slow, and careful. “Nothing, sir-”

“No fuckin’ sirs with me, I did that way too long in the fuckin’ army. Just call me Jefferson, thanks. All right, Chris, do whatever you gotta do, I’m gonna fix this as soon as I count to one, two, three-”

But he’s already squeezing hard on the count of two and Chris whines in pain as a sharp ache shoots up his leg from his heel, spikes, and then… lessens, lowers to a dim throb, hardly real pain at all. 

“Done,” Jefferson announces, brightly. “Now, let’s get you some shoes, so you don’t worry about stepping in anything again. You can come stay with me ‘til your people get back-”

Chris opens his eyes. “No.”

“No?” Jefferson’s eyebrows raise, and Ruth pauses where she’s working with a broom to sweep some crumpled papers in the entryway, looking over at the way Chris’s voice has suddenly gone stronger, harder.

“I can’t, can’t leave,” Chris says, looking Jefferson right in the eyes. Baldur, love, you know you should never meet a man’s eyes unless you’re going to-

“Why not?” Jefferson asks, confused, cutting off Chris’s nervous, cycling thoughts. 

“Because, be, because, because because he said to wait for him,” Chris says, a little louder this time, pulling his foot back and away from Jefferson’s hands, curling up on the couch cushion into the tiniest ball he can make himself. “Jake said, he said, he said to wait, and I have to, to wait for him. Right here. Until he, he comes back.”

“Chris…” Jefferson hesitates. “It could be a while-”

“Hush,” Ruth says, quick and fast the way the woman he doesn’t remember used to sometimes say things like that to a man he doesn’t remember, either. “Hush now. Not the time or the place, Jefferson. Not yet.”

“Yes, Miss Ruth. So you need to wait right here?”

“I have to wait for Jake,” Chris says, pressing his own hands against his stomach through the soft fabric of Jake’s worn-out old T-shirt, long fingers that curl into the cotton. “I have to wait for him. I, I, I said I’d wait, I said I’d wait, he promised he’d come back, and I-I-I, I have to, I have to…”

I have to do it the right way this time. Last time I did it all wrong and they died. If I can do it right this time, no one has to die. He doesn’t know where the thought comes from and it sinks back and away just as quickly. He flinches at the memory of a woman’s terrified face, his own voice screaming, and the realization that people can die with their eyes wide open.

“I have to wait,” Chris whimpers, and presses his palms up to his eyes to hide the tears that start to start to fall. There’s a pause, and then warm arms around him, holding him, but the arms aren’t right and the smell isn’t right and he’s alone, even with people in the house, he’s alone, he’s only not alone when he’s with Jake, and Jake is gone, and people have died when Chris did it wrong, he has to do it all just right this time-

Don’t move, baby. Just stay here, and it’ll be all right.

No! He’s just a child! Please, please, that’s my little boy, please no, please, God, no!

I’m coming back for you. Wait for me here.

“I have to w-wait, I have to, to wait, I have to wait for him, I have to wait…” The words bubble up unbidden, and the man holding onto him rocks back and forth, back and forth, and Chris rocks with him, crying into his shoulder, the man’s shirt damp with his tears. The women are silent, but for the sounds of their work, water pouring into a mop bucket and a broom sweeping across the floor. 

You are not hidden, there’s never been a moment you were forgotten - you are not hopeless, though you have been broken, your innocence stolen

Jake likes to sing to him, now, in his low bass voice, and he might never sing to Chris again, like the woman won’t, and how many times can he lose everyone before there’s no one left to lose?

The only sound now is Chris crying into the shoulder of a stranger, all the fear he cannot keep inside himself any longer wept out against his will, that somehow it’s happening all over again, and once more he’s the only one left in the house, once more there is blood on the wall, but he can’t remember when blood was there before and he doesn’t know why he’s so scared that Jake will die.

Just like the woman did, the one he doesn’t remember, the warm hand on his forehead when he was sick, the man the low voice murmuring, if you had a bad dream, you can crawl in with us, buddy, when he was young.

I will never stop marching to reach you in the middle of the hardest fight, it’s true

“I promised to, to wait,” Chris sobs into the man’s shirt, his skin, and feels the man’s warm hands rubbing soothingly at his back. “I promised to wait for him. He’s, he’s, he’s coming b-back, he said he’ll come back, he said to wait and I have to, to wait-”

I will rescue you

“He’s coming back,” Chris whimpers. “He’s, he’s, he’s coming back, he promised to come back-”

“I know,” Jefferson murmurs. “I know he did.”

I will rescue you

“I’m so, I’m, I’m so, so so so so scared, I’m scared, please, I’m so scared he won’t come back, please, please, I don’t want to lose anyone anymore, please, please get him back-”

I hear the whisper underneath your breath, I hear you whisper you have nothing left

“It’ll be okay, Chris,” Jefferson says softly, into his ear. “We’ll figure it out, and you can stay right here. We’ll figure this out with you, okay? We’ll… we’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

“He, he, he he he promised, he promised, he-”

“I know. I know he did.” Jefferson swallows - Chris can hear it, feel the movement of his throat. “I know he did, kiddo.” There’s a pause, and then in a slightly different voice, Jefferson asks, “Miss Ruth, what’s our next step?”

The old woman is silent, and then says softly, “We clean the house, and we get this boy a bed to sleep in, right here where he wants to be. And then I guess one of us should figure out how to pay bail.”

The phone in the kitchen rings again, and Chris can hear, through his own low sobbing, Naomi’s voice as she picks up. There’s a low conversation, and the click of the phone resting back in its cradle. 

“We might not have to do this ourselves,” Naomi says, sounding odd, like her voice is caught in her throat.

“Why not?” Jefferson’s arms tighten around Chris, and he clings to him desperately, the warmth of human contact, the reassurance that he will not be left alone again. 

“Because…” Naomi’s voice twists with a wry humor. “Jake didn’t call his lawyer or his mom, Miss Ruth.”

“Then who did he call?”

“Uh.” Naomi clears her throat. Chris looks up, to see her looking stricken, staring at Chris as though he’s grown three heads. “He, uh. He called someone who called-… you guys ever see the movie Dimmer Switch?”

“Yeah, like… a million years ago,” Jefferson says, sounding baffled.

“I don’t see movies,” Ruth says, equally confused, though hers sounds more like irritation.

Chris’s heart twists, in his chest. Something like relief, but sharp as a blade, cutting him open, laying out all his hope for them to see and take and destroy, if they want to, like all of him was cut out once before.

It’s not gone, Antoni says, inside his mind, in his memory. They buried it, they built a wall, but we are still inside ourselves. You just have to dig deep enough, Chris.

This isn’t going to be like before.

“That was, uh. That was… some girl named Krista. She’s coming here. And she’s coming with a check from Vincent fucking Shield to pay their bail. We’ll have to go do it, because Krista says she’s… she’s one of them - the Boxies - she can’t go herself, they might recognize her.”

“Then I’ll go to the jail and get them myself,” Jefferson says, strongly. “I thought Vincent Shield just talked a big game in interviews, but that’s walking the walk, huh?”

“Oh, man.” Naomi sounds stunned. 

There’s a silence.

“Does that mean Vincent Shield has been here? And I was right next door to a fucking movie star and no one told me?”

Chris laughs, putting his hands back up over his face, burying himself in Jefferson’s shoulder. Krista will come to help him, Krista will come, and they’ll go get Jake, and Jake will come back, and it won’t be like before, mourning doves are just pigeons with a prettier name, they don’t mean anyone will die, no one has to die this time, you’re the reason Ronnie died, you should never have been born, but he doesn’t know that voice, either, who said that?

Someone, darker in his mind, a place he can’t go. A place that hurts but Chris tries to dig down into it anyway, follows the voice, chases it into the pain.

Thank you, it’s, it’s hard, but, but but but thank you for getting this for, for dinner, it-it helps, thank you-

Don’t thank me. It’s the least I can do on a day like this, huh? 

A day like, like, like like like what?

 Nothing. Just thinking about tomorrow. Happy birthday, Tris-

His thoughts are interrupted by a flash of red in the window, the cardinal from before. It sits on the windowsill, briefly, looking in at him with one dark eye. Then it takes flight again, a burst of wings, and is gone.

He doesn’t remember what he was thinking about but it doesn’t matter now. He did it all just right, so no one has to die this time. No one has to die because of him, and Jake is coming back, and it’s going to be okay. Jake promised he would come back, and Chris promised he would wait right here.

They can both keep their promises this time, because Chris did it all just right.

He did it just right.

He was good, this time, and that means no one will die.

He can keep his promise, the last one he made to the woman he doesn’t remember when she was lying on the floor with her eyes wide open, to be good.

[thechosenburrito]

Intro to Love: 1.4-Thanks for Ghosting Me

Word Count: 1,581

Description:

Xochi and Carson are on their way to study when they’re rudely interrupted.

Author’s Note:

Almost done with Chapter 1!  Maybe I’ll be done tonight!

Previous Chapter: 1.3-I Can See Right Through You

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It's hard to sleep when you feel like shit.  That's why I only slept for 30 minutes after my little episode the night before.  The clock read 7 o'clock which came as a shock to me as I usually only see it followed by a "pm".  I stayed in bed for a couple of hours, scrolling through an endless stream of nothing on my phone.

My stomach growled out of nowhere.  I smiled a bit when it wasn't immediately followed by nausea.  I got up and pulled a cold slice of pizza from the fridge.  I was able to finish a small slice and figured I could use this time to take an extra-long shower.

It was nice to shower some of the sadness away.   But, when I got out, my eyes were still puffy and had dark circles under them.  This wasn't unusual for a college student.  However, I generally try to present myself as someone who didn't have a mental breakdown the night before.  I dried my hair in front of the mirror in my room.  Drying my thick dark hair required using my blow-dryer on the maximum setting, which isn't optimal for dorms with paper walls.  My true hair revealed itself.  It was wavy in strange places and I had a sort of cowlick in the front.  I plugged in a flat iron to tame the crazy mess.  

I touched the dark bags under my eyes.  I considered putting concealer over them, then on the red marks on the side of my nose, and maybe followed by the weird freckle on my right cheek.  At that point, I didn't really feel like doing make-up anymore.  I looked closely at my eyebrows.  A bit over-grown, but thick brows were in.  I think? Oh well.  I toweled off and pulled on a tank top and hoodie ( Of course with proper supportive garments underneath).  I pulled on a pair of jeans and slipped on my black canvas sneakers.  The iron was finally hot enough and I got to work on my hair.  I've done this a million times, which made it the perfect time to let all my stupid thoughts out.

What if they made really tiny curling irons for eyelashes?  Actually, I don't want that THAT close to my vulnerable eyeball.

Am I strong enough to stand on the tips of my toes in these shoes?

Of course, I put the iron down and tried it out.

"Ow."

Not yet.  Next time for sure.

Should I become a beanie person?  Are beanies secretly my thing?

I pressed my hair to my head and imagined a beanie there.

Nope.  My head is a weird shape.  Guess I can't go bald either.

I finished up my hair and unplugged the iron.  I still had a couple of hours to kill and an orange soda from the vending machine down the hall was calling my name. I grabbed my room keys and wallet and headed down the hallway.  I passed a few early risers on the way.  Do people actually wake up this early? For fun?  I kept scrolling through my phone to avoid eye contact.  I wasn't really feeling the whole 'interaction' thing.  At some point, I realized I was scrolling and not even looking at anything.  Not my best moment.  A sponsored post caught my eye and made me audibly groan.

God, another ad for a Team StrikeForce! (TM).

"Even Superheroes need clean teeth!  Use StrikeForce SuperClean Toothpaste to fight back against plaque!"

StrikeForce was essentially a government-backed superhero team.  They purposely sought out conventionally attractive people with the most vanilla powers ever to represent the "ideal striker".  And they made sure to throw in some token minorities.  You had a strong girl, a flying man, someone that blasted fire from their hands,  and some other generic power. Speed maybe?  Telekinesis?  I did my best to avoid any media with them in it. They were essentially glorified cops who spouted government-approved messages like "It's cool to protect your chip from harm so keep yourself and others safe!  " and "Remember: Public use of powers is against the law!  Only teams like StrikeForce are allowed so everyone can be safe!". Right after the lightning storm, they actually did some important things like stopping individuals who abused their powers.  But, once people realized they could get away with more crimes by keeping on the down-low,  the StrikeForce lost their bite and became the government puppets on kids' backpacks we all knew and loved.

I sighed a bit.  Being critical was too tiring.  I quickly realized that I was going to crash. I didn't expect my sleep debt to catch up to me so quickly. I started getting everything to make coffee but hesitated at the thought of drinking something caffeinated after last night.  

I'll make a cup of tea first.  That'll cancel out the caffeine.

Yes, that's exactly how biology works.

I put on water to heat up and chugged an iced coffee from the fridge while it brewed.  Chasing ice cold coffee with nearly-boiling tea made my insides feel like an absolute mess of clashing temperatures.  

Phone buzzed.

(C) I forgot there's a staff meeting in the study room today.  Wanna go to the library instead?

I paused a moment before replying.

(X) Yeah that works.  I'm good to leave whenever you are

(C) Cool, I'll be downstairs in 5

(X) ok see you then

I threw all my supplies in my backpack, grabbed my keys, and started making my way to the dorm lobby.

I saw Carson chatting with someone at the front desk and laughing.  I'd seen the guy at the front desk a million times and barely made eye contact, except the time I got locked out of my room and was forced to talk to him.

I slowed down my pace and stared at my phone as if I didn't notice before taking a breath and walking up to him.

I struggled to plaster on a normal-looking smile.

"Hey! Ready to get going?" I asked, too cheerily.

"Yeah, just-"

A phone alert when off on all three of our phones.

"MISSING: 20 YR OLD FEMALE, 150 LBS., 5'6", STRIKER, LAST SEEN IN PURPLE SWEATER ON JUAREZ ST 9 AM. SEE LOCAL MEDIA."

My breath caught in my throat.

"Oh no.." I whispered.

"Wow," said Carson. "Juarez Street isn't even that far from here.  Do you think she was a student?"

I shrugged.  The guy at the desks scoffed.

"How do I turn these off? I hate the sound of those dumb ass alerts going off all the time," he said in a huff.

It was Carson's turn to shrug.  He pulled on this backpack.

"Ok, we should get going.  Let's be careful though.  We don't wanna get snatched up!" he said with a laugh.

I smiled and we headed out the door.  We walked for a bit in awkward silence before Carson casually broke it.

"So why did they have to put that the girl was a Striker? Doesn't exactly help identify her," he asked.

"Probably to make sure no one ever looks for her,"  I sighed.

"Really?" he responded innocently.

"Uh no. Ha, not really. I was just making a joke about how people don't tend to like Strikers," I tried to keep from stumbling over my words. "A lot of the time, when they find..uh...a body... they check to see if they're a Striker to help identify them."

We stopped at an intersection.  I decided to let Carson cross first, thinking they wouldn't try to hit me if they saw him first, even though there was only one car quite a bit away.

"Oh yeah.  That actually makes sense since they have..." he rubbed his shoulder "..those chip things.  Do you think it hurts?"

"I don't..." I heard the sound of a car speeding up.  I turned only to be met with the unmarked marked white van only 10 feet away from us.

I didn't have time to scream.  I lunged at Carson, praying that I'd grab onto him in time.  As soon as I got my hands on him, I did my best to think permeable thoughts.  

I watched the bumper pass right through us.  For a split second, I could see into the interior of the van.  The driver was wearing a bandana over his face and sunglasses, but even with both of those, you could tell he was sure that he turned me to roadkill.  I caught a brief glimpse of the back of the van.  I could make out a dark hunched figure and maybe some rope, but it was all going too fast.

We both hit the ground hard.  I was pretty grateful that I landed on a person and not the asphalt.  I rolled off him and tried to catch the breath that got knocked out of me.   It immediately occurred to me that we were both still in street, and I started helping Carson onto the curb.  His arms had some scrapes on his arms and a couple of holes in his T-Shirt, but otherwise, he didn't look too bad.  We collapsed onto the curb.

"Holy shit.  We got lucky." I managed between breaths.

I turned to him, but his face wore an expression of shock rather than relief.

"No.  That was beyond luck.  We should be dead." he said darkly.

He turned to look at me so quickly, I shot right up.

"How did you do that?"

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Next Chapter: 1.5-The Good, The Bad, and The Unmasked

a/n:

I can’t think of anything clever to put here but you should totally send me asks and stuff

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Devil’s No 1(11)

Chapter 11: Lights

Loki x fem!Reader, Bucky x fem!Reader

Theme: The definitions of devils, angels, demons etc. are twisted here in this world. But some things remain the same.

Series: Will contain violence, death, destruction, softness, fluff, smut, everything that my mind can conjure, really.

Chapter warnings: nothing much

A/N: This was written two years ago (I think) on @phantomrose96 ‘s prompt/situation of a shy girl summoning the devil to be friends with him (and something else that he does but I’ll leave that part out for you guys to have fun with). But I- being thirsty for tragedies- twisted things a little.

Word Count: sometimes I wonder if my dreams are just dreams or if they are telling me something. But telling a friend will be ill is still logical than showing me some ancient machine that controls the mechanisms of multiverse and leaving me there stranded with Captain America and what exactly?! What am I supposed to do there? Gaurd the multiverse? Keep a watch over them? Tell cap whenever I spot his husband and wife? What?!

It was the first time.

A first for him. First for you as well.

Comparisons were made of this very first with nearly everything first of nature.

The first bud blooming through a snow blanket. The first ember lighting up in the smoky twigs. The first ray of the warm spring sun. The first drop of dew falling from the trees on the cheeks. That's how your smile seemed.

Loki could have sworn you had never smiled in your life. That was until now when he stood beside you while you sat on the boulder, with- the usual- tears gathering up. Though this time, they did not reflect the colours like before. They reflected little twinkling lights trying to shine inside you.

Didn't seem like this devil knew how to smile. Loki's dimensions wanted to pull him away from your face but his eyes seem to be stuck on you, not coming off even if he wanted them to.

And you? You were stretching your lips even when it hurt because it felt good. So good.

Your inner voice, for the first time, was quiet for the moment, enjoying the picturesque Northern lights glowing in their green, pink and sometimes blue glory in front of you.

...but are we sure it's the northern lights that are making us feel so good right now.

There she goes.

It's the Northern Lights.

...so we're not going to talk about the-

"It's beautiful," you sputtered, trying to wrap your arms around your folded legs, adjusting yourself in the leftover snow crunching underneath your butt before catching a look at Loki and quickly steering your eyes back to the luminous dance.

"Hmm," Loki commented. You could still feel his gaze piercing through you. What was he doing?

"I've never seen one before," you continued, moving your one ring around your finger, twisting it as you floated through the thoughts running inside your head.

"Any special reason you wanted to see them?"

You closed your eyes and reran those words exactly as they were spoken, but in slow motion, tasting every click of the tongue, every twist of the lip inside your head; all of this swirling in an ocean of green.

"I always wanted to see them. Call it a child's curiosity-" you shrugged, opening your eyes to look back at the magic of nature- "even though science explained it all."

The icy wind wanted to play with your skin, coming within the intention of caressing it but running its nails right through your skin in the name of affection.

"I was supposed to see them last year," you muttered, more for yourself than for him, but it did not escape those ears that could hear the little flutter in your heartbeat and the shift in your body as you tried to bring your legs closer to you, your eyes now looking at some distant void that was nowhere near nature's light show.

"What happened? Curled into a corner at the last moment?" Loki scoffed, but his eyes were still frozen, emotionless, looking for a stir that his words would cause, as the crisp memories of your lips on his were doing to him.

There was a moment when you wanted to wallow in the memories of all that was gone. Just one tiny portion of time when you felt yourself looking down into the well of the past, waiting to take the plunge when a wave of chilly air stopped you and made you look at yourself.

"Do you want to do this?" It asked. And in the next gush of the moment, you were back on the boulder with snow all around you.

"My boyfriend left me," you announced.

You do not realise the surprise that jolted through Loki's vessel to hear those words thrown into the air without an ounce of remorse.

"Why?" The words were out of him before he could make sense of what was going on. His own being cursed him for suddenly feeling the need to unravel you instead of play when you were no longer his amusement but a mere soul wrapped in the alluring blaze of mystery.

"I don't know," you shrugged, scratching an itch on your cheek, "one day we were planning on visiting this place and the next day my life fell apart."

Loki remained silent.

"It seems funny now, though. I had planned for the whole day. Made an elaborate itinerary. And in the middle of the night, I get a call that my father was in a serious accident. Next thing I know I'm standing in the hospital as the doctors tell me the body is ready to be taken for cremation.”

A chill ran down the vessel whilst witnessing a void in those eyes that usually were a pool of emotions. Are humans not supposed to mourn their parents? But you continued like it was a story told by the campfire in the cold night to friends and strangers alike. Fiction. Made up. 

“Now, that’s not the end of it. My workplace calls me to tell me I'll be fired if I don't come in that very day. And I do that. All because the boss spilt coffee on the project I made and wanted a month’s work to be done in one night. I actually go back to work to be blackmailed by my boss to let him fuck me if I wanted to keep the job."

You paused, pulling out a rolled-up joint from your pocket. It amused a very engrossed Loki to think that you took the time to gather these and take them with you. And the lighter too.

A cough or two- thanks to the amateur that you were- later, you came back to where you left off.

"You know," you continued, "I didn't realise the meaning of the phrase 'bursting of veins' till that day. How do veins burst? Do they make a pop sound? Do they go woosh and spray all over? Or do they just run like a tap? I didn't know that a glass trophy could make you bleed like that, you know. That it could cause so much damage. I honestly didn’t know that. Anyway, Gary got what he deserved and I filed my resignation, a complaint to HR and a lawsuit against the company. And just when I thought my day could not get any worse, I found Bucky gone. No sign of him at my apartment. Like he was never there. Vanished into the wind...just like he came."

Your face reflected the dislike you were feeling for the taste this joint left in your mouth, already throwing the barely burned part into the snow. The Devil saw thousands of souls moan all around you who would give themselves to the devil for that one good drag. But they weren’t what he got cemented on.

"The fact that he left doesn't hurt as much as the timing, you see. And those stupid blue eyes that looked like they could show you the most beautiful oceans even if you did not know how to swim. Like they could paint this world in beauty just for you. He made you feel that way. Like he would do anything for you. From making you a grilled cheese sandwich for breakfast while you’re still asleep to finding Atlantis just because you were curious.”

The winds slowed down. The lights swung in an aphasic glow. You breathed in the cold air to let your lungs cool down a bit from all the reminiscence. Loki was sure he heard you mutter ‘idiot’ under your breath, something that broke him into a muted chuckle. He took a step towards you, his hands moving with a flow of their own, conjuring up a flowing overcoat before those fingers even touched your shoulders. The warmth of that fur instant made you cosy up inside it. Adjusting it all around you, you settled down in the ground with the boulder now as your support to lean on. The heat was slowly doing what it did best. So did the talking. The fact that eyes felt droopy made you content on the inside. It also made you turn towards Loki and smile.

“I know Gary wants me dead. I just don’t know if you have been in on it.”

With that, you turned back to the Northern lights and dozed off into the furry luxury within seconds, meeting your old partner slumber after ages of heartbreak and pain, breaking into its arms to let it take care of you.

Loki watched you for a while. He watched you, to see whether those colours changing around you could answer riddles that brewed in this sombre atmosphere of his existence when no one looked. He studied every eyelash to ask what he had done this time to make him stand face to face with fate this night. He witnessed every strand of hair dancing with the wind to suppress the need to scream at the sky.

Ultimately, he sat down next to your sleeping form, summoning the bottle of Jager from your place to finish in one go. Ignoring the shrieks of all other dimensions, he pressed his jaw hard, placed his hand on your head and inhaled as much as he could.

“So, Bucky,” he felt his jaw tick, feeling the memories resurge under his touch, “boyfriend my hellfire-”

[imagine-loki]

Return

TITLE: Return CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Eight AUTHOR: theterrifyingtermite ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that, at the end of Endgame, Loki comes back. Only one problem: this isn’t your Loki… RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: Gearing up to the moment that the entire fic was built around. (I’m so dramatic. I know.)

Chapter Eight:

One month, three weeks, and two days left.

She had officially reached a point of being uncomfortable – even though the quantity of spells should have prohibited it – and was officially permanently tired, finding herself today with a lingering headache.

Trying to do things the “normal,” human way was failing. Articles and books and any sort of information she could find really didn’t cover the whole ‘inter-species’ aspect of her life.

While Stephen and Wong were a great help, she figured that even their access to knowledge had a limit – though it would be emphatically denied if she questioned it out loud.

Still, she was thankful for them, as she was for the woman sitting down across from her.

“Here,” Christine smiled, passing over a mug of Pai Mu Tan tea, her own cold brew in her other hand.

She thanked her, wrapping her hands around the mug and breathing in the scent of it while willing away the ocular pain that had accompanied yesterday’s migraine and had followed her into the next day.

Christine had been one of the best things to come out of the situation. Busy as she was, there were texts; calls; and the occasional venture out for a visit, when she felt like braving the world.

Whatever she was willing to give, Christine was ready to accept. While they weren’t exceptionally close, it was good to have a female friend.

The fact that she was also a female doctor and a touch more understanding about her physical changes was a lovely plus, even if she didn’t know the process personally.

“Maybe someday,” she had teased the other woman gently, vaguely describing a certain (personally: obnoxious) wizard.

Flushing, Christine had muttered something impolite under her breath before the two women shared a laugh.

However, she cut herself off fairly quickly; the area of her midsection that felt as if it were cramping corrupted the sensation of joy rather unpleasantly.

She pushed aside the feeling though - it was probably only her body changing with the length of time required for growing this particular baby.

This mollified, she fell into their chatter for a few more minutes. But as the drowsiness of the afternoon wore on, she began to lose focus on the conversation, thoughts wandering elsewhere.

After a long, blank moment, she realized she was trembling.

Her head felt as if it were soaring heavenward.

Everything felt distant and clouded, and she squinted as the concerned face of Christine flickered in and out.

“We need to go, now,” was the insistent demand that she was finally able to understand.

Aware enough, she nodded and dragged herself to her feet, leaning heavily on Christine’s arm. Concerned voices whirled around her, repeating something about a doctor; getting a doctor, but the other woman was insistent about her career. She’d get her to her hospital; everything would be fine.

They turned, and she was suddenly accosted by the feeling of tightness coming from her lower back.

“Christine,” was all she could whimper out, free arm curling tightly around her stomach as the pain behind her eyes grew with every step.

Focus. She needed to focus.

She could hardly see straight.

Christine was talking on her phone; she could see a swirl of light open before them.

Loki?

Hope flared.

But no; it led to the base of a vast stairwell, and an open, wooded lobby sort of area.

Another voice, deeper than Christine’s rumbled in her ear.

“One more stop; come along now.”

The overwhelming, sterile scent of a hospital reached her as hands slid around her shoulders and knees. She was lifted and carried through another portal.

For a moment, she thought she heard his voice, but no; it couldn’t have been him.

Then, at some point, she blinked her eyes open to find herself stretched out on a bed, to see Christine pulling over a machine, and to watch her prep an IV.

Christine caught her bleary gaze and smiled stiffly. 

“We’re going to do this my way while the guys see what they can do. We’re going to figure this out, okay?”

Managing a nod, she closed her eyes, feeling them well with tears even as she drifted off again.

She only wished he were here.

___

She didn’t remember the first twenty-four hours.

Thankfully, she was fully awake the next afternoon, listening as Christine explained what happened.

Preeclampsia.

Well, if not exactly that then something very similar to it.

It would explain the headaches, the dizziness, and the growing abdominal pain that had happened over the course of the week.

As much as they could understand, after months of spells and an unusual conception, her body had attempted to reject the infant.

The magic had been focused to contain the child and protect her system, not help it adjust to an “unnatural” pregnancy.

Even though Christine shushed her, rubbing her back gently, she shook.

There were things she could do in the normal way of medicine to help. Some medication, maybe, and bed rest were probably the two easiest to handle.

So long as the medicine didn’t counter-act with the magic. It was something they would have to take one step at a time.

Once she had calmed again, Christine laid out the plan that she and Stephen had constructed. She would stay here one more day and night; no one knew about it – no, don’t ask how; Stephen did something and Christine really didn’t want to know – and then in the morning she could go home, and they would get her settle for the last two-ish months.

At her nod, they got to work – comparing and testing, failing repeatedly, and then tentatively finding a balance.

Afternoon slipped into evening and finally they had it all sorted – and she slept.

One more night of monitoring, and then she would be home.

___

Stephen had whirled her away back home early in the morning, a list of orders from Christine held firmly in his hands.

He set her on the gliding recliner that had been gifted to her by Wong, made sure she was comfortable, and then ordered her not to move.

As she sat still, tucked up on a pillow and underneath a thick, fuzzy blanket he wove together some sort of shield around her.

Not that she understood everything he said when he went off on a technical rant, his PhD persona showing through in his explanations, but she nodded along anyway so he wouldn’t get snippy.

It was something to help keep the adapted spells in stasis until she was “Frost-Giant-full-term,” but she needed to keep still in it until the process was complete.

Easy enough.

Until she immediately jumped as a string of loud knocks broke through her concentration.

A sheepish smile to the long-suffering huff from the man, and he rushed through the last of what she needed to know.

“Obviously, this goes in line with what Christine told you. And you have your pills?” was what she thought he said next.

Another round of much more aggressive knocking echoed towards them, pulling her attention away from the wizard once more.

At her question of whom it might be, Stephen shrugged.

“Oh, well, we put up a ward around your house to prevent undesirable otherworldly activity.” His voice held the tone of pure nonchalance.

Gaping and unsure of what to say at first – a dozen thoughts, feelings, and questions stirred up inside her, until she decided she was highly displeased.

“We didn’t think you’d want to be bothered for a-“

“Go open the door, now,” she all but spit at him, angry, frustrated, relieved he hadn’t been willfully ignoring her. “Or so help me, I will get up and punch out some of your perfect teeth.”

A blink.

A glare.

More banging.

When she actually moved to toss away the blanket and wiggle out of the magical field, Stephen held up his hands, turning on his heels. “I’m going; I’m going! And then I’m leaving.

“Don’t move until that’s finished,” he grumbled, waving a hand over his shoulder and going on as he left about the time it would take to re-do it, so if she would be so kind as to let it finish…

She swore at his back, ignored his snide response, and slumped back into the chair.

There was yelling as soon as the back door was opened, and she found herself enjoying the tirade that Loki was directing towards Stephen. It cut off with a curse – no doubt the wizard had made a timely getaway – and then he was striding into the room, green eyes blazing with a fury not seen in months.

He stopped in front of her, taking a moment to scan the spell hovering around her before sneering at it, his hands clenching.

“How much longer is this going to take?”

She was unsure .

“Not long?” She offered with a shrug.

Loki scoffed, folding his hands behind his back and planting his feet in a defiant stance. “Right. Care to tell me why I am just heard about this? Thor got some sort of electronic mail communication from that other woman earlier today.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his careful pronunciation. When he glared in response, she shrugged. “I thought you might have been avoiding me.”

His face twisted, and she reached out – pausing before touching the magical shield. “I assumed they would tell you. It’s not like I could.”

At her words, the spell suddenly fizzled and dissipated in a puff of smoke. Quickly, Loki grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers through hers before she could withdraw.

He took a deep breath before speaking through gritted teeth, maintaining patience. “I made you a promise.”

“I know,” she admitted, tugging on his hand until he met her gaze. “I shouldn’t have doubted you. Now help me up; I want to sit with you.”

At his hesitance, she threw aside the blanket, claiming she would do it herself. Even if she was unevenly weighted at the moment, she wasn’t incapable.

It was enough provocation to get him moving.

“No, you will not,” he snapped at her, catching her other hand and pulling her up as she unfolded her legs.

He muttered under his breath about impertinence, stubbornness, and a slew of other rather rude things – but wrapped an arm securely around her waist to transfer her to the couch, so she decided to let it slide.

When they were both seated and facing each other, he glowered at her. “Do you have no self-preservation?”

“I didn’t ask for this to happen,” was his pert reminder as she crossed her legs as well as she could, huffing at the effort.

A shoulder hitched, but he persisted, even as he reached down to assist. “You should have told me you were feeling unwell.”

You should have been able to tell, is what her mind supplied. Words caught in her throat, and she stammered until she was able to formulate something less antagonistic.

“I…I didn’t want you to worry.”

An eyebrow quirked.

God of Mischief, king of lies.

“��he would have been able to tell. I wasn’t being fair.” She admitted this after a sigh, letting her chin drop and resting her gaze on their entwined hands.

He hummed quietly in response, thumb stroking over her hand.

And then, breaking the silence that followed:

“May I…the last time – I know I hurt you. But…may I see your memories again?”

When she hesitated, he held up his free hand in surrender. “You don’t have to. I only thought…well, I am willing to understand this time. And it may help me to know you better.

“Things are changing, and I…” There came a slump to his shoulders. “I want to do what I can to make it easier.”

Well, she couldn’t argue with his logic.

Just – after nearly a year and everything in it, revisiting her entire life with the other Loki didn’t seem quite as appealing.

Mentally steadying herself, she reached for his other hand, and he shifted closer, nearly looming over her until he bent down and his forehead rested against her own.

Her heartbeat had quickened; there was the tiniest flicker of fear, and then –

“Do you consent?” He asked her, his voice hushed in the stillness that had settled over the room.

A moment crept by.

She took in his tone, the gentle grip his hands held on hers, and the softness of his breath mingling with her own.

“I consent,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

Only then did she feel the warm brush of his consciousness.

“I trust you.”

___

At some point, she realized that she was no longer flitting her way through her memory with Loki.

She was dreaming.

It had been so peaceful this time and so gentle while wandering through the past few years remembering and sharing the bliss of days gone by. It shouldn’t be too surprising that this had happened.

Only…she had never dreamed of a place like this.

Mountains were in her direct line of sight. Massive, exaggerated heights that shimmered with the hint of snow at the peaks – even from the distance that she beheld them. And from them, gliding all the way to her, green as far as she could see.

There was grass all around her; it was lush and soft beneath her now bare feet. She wiggled her toes in it appreciatively, reveling in the sensation.

It was all more real than she had ever dreamed before.

Yet, something in her whispered that it couldn’t just be that.

For one, she had never seen a place like this nor pictures of it, anyway.

For another, it was far too temperate compared to the strong, summer days they were having.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and listened. The air was clean and clear; it had a wild fragrance found only in the wilderness.

It also carried the breaking sound of waves.

An ocean?

She turned then, slanting a hand over her eyes against the light slipping through the cover of clouds. In the distance, she could see the edge of the cliff and the water flowing beyond its precipice.

And someone standing by it, facing out towards the sea.

Curious now, she began to move towards the figure, one hand tucking under her swollen middle; the other catching and re-tucking hair that blew around her eyes.

It was when she got closer that she quickened her step.

It was when he turned to face her, and he smiled – in such a familiar way – that the tears came.

It was when he held his hands out to her, coming to meet her, and she fell into his embrace that she finally gasped out his name.

“Loki.”

[split-n-splice]

[Chapter Guide]

22. Welfare Check – 4

Maybe he should have followed Team Go’s example and left. It was in his best interest to honor his accomplice’s wishes after all, and maybe that was Drakken’s first impulse when he reached for the key in the ignition. So why he didn’t listen to the voice of reason was anyone’s guess.

He was really pushing his luck by being perhaps the first customer of the day to set foot in Buckley’s Brew. As the door swung shut behind him, he began to question the severity of his recent gambling habit.

A stocky henchwoman-to-be in a witch costume was hissing something unfriendly to Shilo, who looked close to socking the fellow barista for whatever snide things that fell out of her mouth. The witchy blonde’s eyes cut to Drakken, and she curled her lip and turned away to tend to an espresso machine or some such. Through the window to the kitchen, Drakken could see Buckley at work preparing more confections, blessedly indifferent to his entry. Shilo, however, was not.

Her glare seared through him as she planted her palms on the countertop.

The little shop was decorated for the holiday with paper garlands of bats and ghosts and tiny pumpkins at the center of each table. On the counter stood a figurine of an ugly little green witch hunched over a little cauldron of Halloween candy. Drakken helped himself to a chocolate drop, popping it in his mouth as he feigned interest in the chalkboard of specialty coffee, seasonal delights, and made-to-order dishes. He refused to search for strudels in the display case.

His accomplice did not offer a greeting. If this was how she treated the average customer, he wouldn’t feel too bad if she was soon sacked, but he knew he was just a special case.

Her scowl didn’t relent even when her fellow barista swept by behind her, depositing a witch hat adorned with long sickle feathers atop her head. Somehow Drakken doubted mentioning her hair had the same uncanny iridescent sheen as rooster’s back end would come off as a compliment, so he kept the thought to himself.

The jingle of the bell behind him urged him to hurry up, and Shilo grinding out, “What do you want?” helped him decide.

“Waffles and a mocha, please,” Drakken answered politely. He’d never gotten a chance to have his breakfast earlier as he’d forgotten it to get cold in the wagon. She didn’t budge when he pulled out his wallet and held out a note. He raised his brow at her, wondering quietly, “Am I banned?” He should hope not.

“No, but you aren’t welcomed,” she grumbled. She snatched the cash from him. “It’s your head.” She nodded curtly toward the table in the furthest corner where they’d sat the day he’d introduced her to Buckley a month ago. It was a good spot, Drakken decided. Just out of sight of the window to the back, therefore out of sight of the owner.

He’d hoped it would be his accomplice to serve him, but he didn’t complain out loud when it was the blonde witch. At least he had something hot to eat and something sweet to sip. He watched the storefront for good measure, ready to jump up and hide in the restroom should Team Go reappear with reinforcements.

Another customer came and went, ordering joe to go and a devil’s food muffin that made Drakken seethe, but he kept his mouth shut and ate his breakfast.

A sudden grip on his shoulder startled him, but he whipped his head around to see raven hair and jaded eyes and he breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t Buckley. “What did I tell you?” Shilo scolded under her breath. “You’re going to get yourself caught.”

“Oh, you know me,” Drakken tried to chuckle as he sat back to peer innocently up at her. “I’m not very good at following rules.”

“Well, work on it.”

He winced back from the bite in her voice and the weight of her glare. Villains broke rules – didn’t she know that? He eyed her, and the hand still gripping his shoulder in particular, and decided that maybe her rules were best not broken if he could help it. “I just want to make sure you’re—,” he began, but she cut him off with a snort.

“I can handle myself,” she reminded, and let go of his shoulder with a small shove. “You need to stay out of my way. Worry about yourself, will ya? Honestly – you’ve got a lot of nerve to get on my case and then do something this stupid. I thought you were supposed to be a genius?”

Drakken shrank a little more. “I know you’re capable,” he muttered, poking at his half-eaten breakfast. He grunted crossly and stabbed at a side of sausage. “What do they want with you anyway?” That was a dumb question to ask. Maybe he wasn’t such a genius after all.

“They’re not taking me back,” grumbled his partner in crime, crossing her arms.

“Not without a fight,” he agreed, and her frown lightened just a little while.

She glanced toward the door before plopping herself down in the seat across from him, yanking off the ridiculous feathered witch hat and slumping over the table with her face buried in her arms. He almost called her name after a minute, but she heaved a weary sigh and pulled her head up a little to glower over to the other barista before glaring back up at him. “I blame you.”

Drakken scoffed. “For?”

Her jaded eyes narrowed on him, and she shook her head, refusing to explain with more than a simple, “Everything.” She reached across to steal a sip of his mocha then, and he kept his complaint trapped behind zipped lips. She could probably use the caffeine more than him – but for heaven’s sake – she could go get her own.

“They do want me to come back,” she confirmed. “But if they were going to force me to go, they wouldn’t be wasting time seeing how I’m doing. I must be up to snuff so far. They haven’t drugged or cuffed me yet. Anyway.” She took another sip and surrendered his mug. “If they planned on taking me, they wouldn’t have brought Dad. All the seats are taken. I guess this was my last chance to change my mind before big brother wraps it up on damage control and sweeps me under the rug to pretend I was never their mistake.”

“What?” Drakken uttered around a mouthful, tilting his head. There was something sad in her eyes, and he pulled his stare away to frown at the smudge of black lipstick on his mug. He turned it away from him to sip from a clean edge.

“Big brother doesn’t want a bad apple like me spoiling their reputation,” she explained. “Big brother…you know. Glo—I’m not gonna say it.” She shook her head and sighed grimly. “They’ll probably keep an eye on me through my brothers for a bit, but if I can fool them too that I’m just… this. Some ordinary girl in a small town. Then they might let their guard down and take their eyes off me. We might be okay.”

We. He liked the sound of that more than he ought to. “You sound optimistic,” Drakken noted.

“They have bigger fish to fry than lil ol’ me,” she assured.

“That’s a relief.” He watched the swirling remains of his mocha before knocking it back.

“They’ll never know what hit them,” she agreed with a smile. A genuine smile, one that met her eyes and lifted some of the bleak exhaustion there, if only for a moment. She stood then, making a motion for him to pass her the mug. As she was offering to fetch him a refill, he shook his head and stood as well.

“I think I’ve pushed my luck enough for one morning,” he sighed and looked out toward the storefront. There were still no superheroes in sight, but he wasn’t so gullible as to believe they had given up so easily. They’d be back. It was only a matter of time. “When does your family leave?”

“Dunno,” she admitted. “I guess the twins wanted me to take them trick-or-treating tonight, so they’re bound to turn up eventually to make me spend quality time with the family.” She shrugged and rolled her eyes.

“Try the north end of town,” advised Drakken offhandedly. “It’s the rich neighborhood.” He didn’t know why he bothered sparing that information. Let the little brats get paperclips and tasteless candy – what did he care?

A new early-bird customer was just coming in then. Shilo’s idle time was up. Drakken sidestepped out of her way as his accomplice donned her witch hat and cleared the table.

“Thanks for the tip,” she chirped flippantly, and as Drakken turned back to utter something confused in reflex, she smirked and pushed his wallet into his chest while pocketing a bill from it. “See ya around, hon.”

The last bit didn’t sit well with him, but Drakken let it slide before it could trip him up. She was smiling and bubbly and sweet now despite her exhaustion and bottled bitterness. It wasn’t a show of endearment – it was all just a show she put on for customers, right down to the smile she flashed him as he took his leave.

Drakken grit his teeth and forced himself to return to the lair, despite how compelled he was to keep a watchful eye out for the superheroes, anxious his irreplaceable accomplice might be taken away at any moment, against her will or otherwise.

He tried to bear in mind there was certain protocol he ought to be following anyway. He had more important things to do than loiter around town, trying to stalk agents of Global Justice decked out in outlandish harlequin suits – things like barking orders at the henchmen to put the lair under lockdown starting with the garage, and ordering the whole lot of them into the depths of the subterranean hideaway and out of sight from probing spies, and to be on guard for a raid just in case. If Global Justice by any chance had followed Team Go to the oasis, there was the risk he’d caught their eye. Peculiar complexions like his had a way of acting as a red flag for illicit activities gone awry, after all.

But as Drakken sat down in front of the CCTV system, hands folded under his chin as he vigilantly watched the perimeter in grainy black and white feed, an inkling of doubt trickled in, watering a wry seed as he stewed. After some time, his nerves began to settle, and he sat back, weighing the likelihood of Global Justice considering a blue individual a threat or even a suspicious character on Halloween of all days.

He shook his head. He had too much idle time to think.

So he summoned a henchman to the chair to watch the security feed and left to occupy his buzzing mind with something more productive than staring at bulbous screens which only served to make his eyes burn. Let them be the watchdogs and watch the monotonous feedback – what else was he paying them for?

Though he was on the verge of scrapping it for parts in his frustration, Drakken returned to the cannon. It didn’t distract him for long, but it kept him busy long enough to finish it. He got as far as pulling on a mask and giving it a quick coat of spraypaint to emulate the warning stripes of a yellowjacket.

The mask didn’t do him a whole lot of good when the ventilation system in the lair left a lot to be desired, and he abandoned the project before the paint could finish dripping.

Dizzy from fumes, Drakken quickly retreated to his personal quarters and tugged off the mask, gasping for a breath of air yet to be polluted by the aerosol, though it still lingered on his clothes. He tossed his coat over the back of the couch to shed some of it, turning his attention to the kitchen next as he staved off the phantom sensation of standing on the roof of the van with a heavy weight on his shoulders—

It was only noon, he noticed. That was fine. Enough time had elapsed and there’d yet to be an alarm tripped. It was safe to relax a little and call it lunchtime, though his stomach was still knotted up with nerves. He made himself a grilled cheese sandwich, reminding himself he lived alone. Mostly alone. He only unthinkingly made a second because he was hungry, even if it was cold by the time he forced it down.

Neither were satisfying. No amount of butter or cheese could fix that.

He sat hunched over his kitchen island, frowning into a new cookbook that had yet to offer anything that tickled his fancy. Chocolate was an infallible go-to, but chocolate alone wasn’t festive enough. Devil’s food still left a sour taste in his mouth anyway. Pumpkin pie, maybe? No. While he could bake a mean pumpkin pie, the art passed down to him from his grandmother, it was too mundane. It wasn’t like he had anyone to impress – it was just that he must have made a hundred in his twenty-odd years of baking them.

He flicked on the television and melted into the couch, hopeful the leading cooking channel would inspire him, but it was droning on and on about decorative icing on sugar cookies in the shapes of bats and witches and pumpkins. Bored to sleep, he nodded off until a change of pace signified the start of some competitive whimsical cakes designed like graveyards or brains.

Drakken sat up with a groan at the sight of strawberry glaze drizzled over the brain-cake and flicked off the television. It was just a touch too realistic for his taste. He wasn’t in the mood to see desserts disguised as organs.

Pieces floated together as he watched the stars behind his lids as he rubbed his stinging eyes. A moment later, he dove across the couch to fish his notebook from his jacket to jot down three words most certain to be delectable, just in case something came up and he got complacent. It sounded good in his head. It was certain to be leagues better than any revolting red velvet cerebrum.

He didn’t need the worthless cookbook. The itch to toss it in the garbage didn’t feel too unlike disregarding a map on a road trip, but he couldn’t pry his fingers from the spine to drop it. He knew exactly how to make what he craved though – he didn’t need someone else’s instructions to guide him. Still, he grudgingly returned it to the shelf with half a dozen other useless cookbooks like it. His thoughtful mother had bought it for him anyway. He couldn’t just throw out a gift.

As deliberately as he tried to keep his eyes down, he still caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall. It was half-past two.

If they weren’t already, those rotten superheroes were bound to be on her any moment now. The lair was in lockdown – but he needed ingredients if he was going to concoct anything to cure a sweet tooth.

He felt his breath leave him and with it his resolve to stay safely holed up in his hideout.

Drakken shrugged on his coat – it had aired out enough – and stuffed his notebook back in the pocket. He knew exactly what he needed. He didn’t need to make a list.

He still stood before the mainframe in the lab to write it out anyway, giving himself an extra minute to change his mind before lowering the lair’s defenses and ordering the henchman at the surveillance desk to keep a sharp eye out or he’d have his head served on a platter.

Drakken was soon coasting through town yet again in the restored station wagon, as the van was still too eye-catching with its damaged side – not to mention it was suspicious enough to the average civilian on a good day. He was minding his own business anyway – just popping into the Smarty Mart. He didn’t need to be secretive.

How he found himself on the wrong side of town – well. He couldn’t play stupid. He was compulsive. He could hardly help that. It was a villain thing.

Knowing he was playing with fire, Drakken kept his eye out as he cruised down Main Street, spotting his lone accomplice soon enough. Given the direction she was heading, she wasn’t heading home. He had to guess she was on her way to the library, her usual respite from the weather, only this time she was likely avoiding the family he happened to know still had a jet parked on the front lawn at her address.

He was bound to be on edge for as long as Team Go was still in town. Paranoia grew by the second as he waited for the dreaded heroes to jump her. She wasn’t far from Buckley’s yet. Her brothers could be lurking anywhere, lying in wait.

She was confronted, but it wasn’t by lousy do-gooders.

Drakken recognized the brown dog from a block away, and he pulled to the curb as Shilo was cut off by the traitorous deadbeat with the leash. He narrowed his eyes and drummed his fingers on the wheel, muttering under his breath his hopes for karma to catch the dog boy once and for all, especially once the steaming punk advanced on her. Granted, the temper might have been justified if Shilo had in fact let his dog out to run away, plus she’d nearly pushed him from the second story earlier.

It didn’t change the fact that Dr. Drakken rooted for her at a distance.

Ignoring the urge to intervene against his better judgment, he watched a dispute unfold. It started with some indiscernible shouting and flailing arms, the boy shaking the leash at her. And then Shego – Shilo – was shoved. She pushed back with twice the force, the boy stumbling over his own shoelaces, which lead to the dog being hastily tied to a tree as Shego goaded him on. To Drakken’s disappointment, the sucker was lead around the nearest building, out of sight.

He almost envied the canine’s front-row seat. The dog barked furiously, lunging and straining at the stifling leash tethering it to the tree. A minute or so passed, and Drakken almost put the car back on the road to go investigate for himself.

A weight lifted from his chest then and he exhaled his relief as Shilo strolled out unscathed, her hair only slightly out of place. She chucked something into the air – a pair of shoes – and smoothed out her hair as the sneakers swung on the powerline above. She rubbed her knuckles, patted the mutt happily wagging its tail, and continued on her way.

The backstabber limped into sight toward his dog a moment later, his arm hanging limp and possibly dislocated. If he wasn’t too caught up grieving over it, he might have continued shouting at Shilo’s back.

Drakken couldn’t help smirking. “Attagirl,” he muttered, giddily pleased she’d served payback herself. Proud as he was, the mugging reinforced a healthy respect. His own combat skill wasn’t his sharpest asset – she’d proved that to him not long ago in an enlightening lesson he wouldn’t soon forget – and he knew she could easily do just the same to him.

Hell, she could do worse to Drakken than dislocate an arm or steal his shoes if she wished. He put a lot on the line, trusting the bad apple as he did. She could rob him blind, turn everything of his for her own profit, bend him to her will for her own gain – well, maybe she was already doing that.

He grimaced and tried not to consider he was being taken for a fool, even as he felt incredibly foolish heading for Smarty Mart with the idle curiosity if she fancied cheesecake. He shook his head. So what if she didn’t? He baked for himself. He wasn’t obligated to share his personal provisions, and he didn’t have to impress her with desserts that put Buckley’s to shame either.

It was a good thing he’d made a list, because he found himself distracted with each new aisle. He tried contemplating a meal plan, but his attention was stolen time and time again by enticing arrangements of candy and decorations. He grit his teeth and tried his damndest to turn a blind eye to the festive merchandise, but his willpower caved eventually, and he was soon perusing holiday goods while staving off the fear of his accomplice alone at the mercy of her brothers.

Before he knew where his feet were taking him, he stood in the costume aisle. This late in the game, pickings were slim. It had to be luck he even found a cape.

He didn’t mean to inspect the silky black garment lined in red, and he especially didn’t mean to drop it in the handbasket – though he justified it knowing someone was bound to come up behind him and pluck it from the rack for themselves if he didn’t. He wondered, as he tossed a pair of overpriced fangs in the basket as well, if he could pull off a satin cape on a regular basis, but he halted the thought in its tracks before he could contemplate how many caped villains had been made a laughingstock. A cape was a ridiculous addition to his wardrobe – he was only wearing it for tonight, and then it was going in the office fireplace.

Thanks to his dillydallying and candy inspection in Smarty Mart, what should have taken him no more than twenty minutes from entry to checkout had taken him an hour or more. Still, he was compelled to blame a heavy overcast for the gloomy evening.

He was out of his mind, Drakken soon concluded as he made a beeline for his accomplice’s neighborhood. He couldn’t convince himself he was only passing through on the way out of town, not when he had to drive so far out of the way to do so. He didn’t even make it to her street before spotting Shego in her gear along with the whole gaggle of harlequin-clad boys.

Gripping the wheel, Drakken fixed his glare dead ahead, away from the superheroes toting bags and buckets like all the other kids swarming the streets. He made for home, back to his lair.

He had sightseeing to do tonight, but first he had to get changed.

[moon-yeongjun]

No Miracles || Mu Jun

Summary: April 27, in the middle of the night -- The Baes come to support the Moons at the hospital. In his desperation, Jun turns to Marlin’s magic 

tw: talk of death, cancer 

@baenxietydad

Read in order:  After the Kiss / Unanswered Texts Waiting Game / Snowstorm One Phone Call / Namtae 

JUN:  The Moons had returned to the hospital and this time, when they left, they would not be the same.    When Jun had received the call that Eomma had to take Abeoji to the hospital in the middle of the night, his three sisters in tow (for Jun was in Coventry and couldn’t watch them), he’d known this was the end. He comforted Eomma and lied to her as if it would not be. But for a long time, Abeoji had been too weak and an infection would spell disaster. And finally it happened-- a cold ballooning too quickly into pneumonia, and now Abeoji couldn’t breathe on his own, and intubating him meant more exposure to infection--   A hospital visit for a terminal cancer patient was like driving directly into the arms of death. Medicine didn’t work miracles. Medicine, sometimes, was the domino knocked over. No matter what doctors tried to do, they fought against a more powerful enemy and with every preventative measure, the doctors, not the disease, risked killing Abeoji in a different way.    Medicine, in other words, was about managing death, not stopping it.    When Jun arrived at the hospital himself the next evening, with Tae trailing behind him, it took him one conversation with the doctor to know all his worst fears would be realized. And so the hours dragged on, Abeoji clinging to life by the tubes they’d forced into him. He would never come off them.   Jun didn’t cry though. He comforted his three sisters. He held Eomma. He squeezed Tae’s shoulder. When the doctors came, Jun was the one who rose from the chair to talk to them, having the most background to translate what they said to his family and wanting it to be him.    At one point, Jun abruptly excused himself to the bathroom, feeling a random seizure of nausea. He stampeded into the bathroom and flung the seat of the toilet up. He coughed, larynx spasming, but nothing came up and the next moment, the sensation had left him. He went to the faucet, splashing water on his face and thinking: he is going to die. He is going to die. He will die.    He had to prepare himself, it couldn’t be a surprise.    What wasn’t a surprise was when the Baes showed up, called by a distraught Tae. His brother had remained strong for hours. He hadn’t cried, simply clenched his fingers into fists. But when Nemo was there, Tae started crying in earnest, the sort of wild, hysteric sobs that were hard to listen to. Jun could not bear to listen to them, and suddenly He is going to die felt impossible-- how could he let his appa die, how--   His hand found Mu-yeol’s arm and he pulled him away from everyone else.    “Hyung,” he uttered, still gripping his arm. “Hyung, tell me about your healing magic.”   

MARLIN:   He should have known that the first time Jun actually asked about his magic, not just sat there and listened to information he didn’t ask for while drunk, would be now. A part of him told himself that he and Nemo were only there for Tae but it was clear that not even Jun could perfectly seal away his own emotions. Jun prided himself on being logical but he was not a machine at the end of the day.    “Jun…” Mu-yeol said, gently touching Jun’s cheek. “There’s nothing I can do, Junnie. You know that.”   “Even I can’t play god.”

  JUN:  Jun flinched from Mu-yeol’s touch.   He didn’t need that. He wasn’t asking for comfort. He was fine. He had lost his true abeoji over a decade ago when his hal-abeoji passed away in South Korea and Jun had been unable to attend his funeral. He cried then, for that man, who read to him and played football with him and taught him how to brew a real cup of tea.    But he had to spare Eomma more pain. He must protect Tae and his sisters. They were all so young. His sisters were his age when hal-abeoji passed-- he couldn’t let these endless cycles repeat themselves. They could not grow up to be like him.    “I didn’t ask you to,” Jun responded, his tone hard. “Besides, that must be wrong. You can’t cure him, but surely. There’s something. There must be, that’s the point of someone like you. Why would your lot always be pressing to bring their craft into hospitals if there wasn’t, eh?” He felt like a crazy person, his mouth disconnected from his brain, because when would Jun ever advocate for a fairy to touch his father with untested magic--?   But here he was.   “Listen. He has a fever. He’s developed lung abscesses,” Jun recited as though he were reading his abeoji’s chart. “You can fix one of those things, you must be able to.”  

  MARLIN:   Had he not known Jun, ‘someone like you’ and ‘your lot’ would have been borderline jabs. But this was Jun, the boy that wanted his mother to have a local friend so he didn’t tell her that he was a fairy. Jun was a good person, he was just hurting.    You can fix one of those things, you must be able to.    Mu-yeol laughed bitterly to himself. “I can make him comfortable.” A beat. “And, actually, eliminate the fever. Fevers are nothing for a healing talent.”   “Getting rid of lung abscesses would require more magic than I could do discreetly. And it is dangerous - for me, not him - to attempt alone.” He explained. “Healing talents do the more difficult, complicated things in groups.”  

JUN:  Eliminate the fever.   Jun didn’t need to hear anything else.    Well. He did. And he listened. And as he listened, the gears of his brain began to twist, trying to work out how he could sneak a whole crew of fairies into his abeoji’s room undetected by the doctors, by his own family. Or perhaps it would be easier to sneak Abeoji out--    He caught himself at this half-formed, far-flung fantasy and knew that it was illegal-- and more importantly, impossible. He couldn’t move his abeoji, his abeoji could not breathe on his own, and he could not sneak a whole hoard of fairies in here, though he was almost desperate enough to try.    “Then will you do it?” Jun said after a single second pause. His eyes darted up. He’d been looking at his own hands. “Hyung, please. Whatever you can do. He-- my sisters and my brother are too young.” 

  MARLIN:   He checked over his shoulder for Eun-jung before he answered.    God, is this what he looked like as So-yeon died in his arms, as he clutched her and tried to heal her even after it was just an uninhabited body he was holding? It was pitiful and nothing like Jun to act this way. That’s what love and grief did when they met.   “Eo. If you can sneak me in there, not being family and all. But, you need to understand.” Mu-yeol lowered his voice. “I said I can get rid of the fever. Not make him live any longer. I could feel it for so long, Jun, and I mean physically, actually, feel it.”

  JUN:  “I know,” Jun said, his voice tighter and weaker than he’d like.   He did not have to be told that his abeoji would die. He had been the one to know first. When he arrived in November, he’d talked with the doctors. They gave him six months, maybe longer, but not much. Here they were-- six months later. It made him want to laugh bitterly. It was just hilarious. Medicine could predict death like the weather, but it could do nothing else.    He had been the one to tell his eomma and siblings that the cancer was terminal and that they should not hope for miracles. That was Jun’s job.   Jun didn’t need-- another doctor telling him this. He didn’t need a sparrow man telling him that even magic, in all its strange and miraculous and dangerous power, did not want to save his abeoji. It didn’t choose him. Instead, it damned him. For what, eh? Why Moon Yeong-seok? He’d been a good husband and a good father and a good businessman. He made sacrifices. He worked seven days a week with only Easter and Christmas and Chuseok taken off.    Maybe that was what killed him. Jun wanted to laugh again.    He didn’t laugh though. He’d laugh later, once again hiding in the bathroom, and there he would laugh hysterically until he couldn’t breathe and tears streamed down his face. Right now, he swallowed. “Just. Get rid of the fever. Do what you can, like you said, make him comfortable--” his voice suddenly caught and broke.    He breathed in sharply. His eyes were still dry.    “It-- your magic won’t-- will he feel it?”  

  MARLIN:   Jun didn’t deserve this. Eun-jung didn’t deserve to be left alone with five children. Yeong-seok, despite how Marlin knew how he felt about even light magicks like fairies, didn’t deserve to die like this.    For the sake of the fragile friendship he had with the Moons, he had to do what he could to ease his pain in his final hours. He was a good man, even if Mu-yeol wished he could bring himself to think differently. After all, he had to cover his ears and then lay human around him. He should hate him for his views on fairies, on fae.    He didn’t.    He couldn’t.    “It won’t hurt. Maybe he’d feel a warm tingling sensation as it worked on him, but I’m sure they have him on so many medications right now...he’s probably too out of it to notice.”   A beat. “Jun, do the pain medications actually work? As — as my wife was dying, even though I couldn’t save her, I was able to take the pain away. If the medication isn’t enough I could do that too.”

  JUN:  Pain was as mysterious as magic to a doctor. There was an entire branch dedicated to it in the practice of medicine. Doctors, specialists, psychotherapists, physical therapists, nurses, dentists… many hands concerned with pain, but none who knew how to truly prevent it or take it away. Pain was of course a necessary function of the body, but still, humans fought against it. Loathed it. Feared it.    As a doctor, Jun had learned about different pain indexes. He had held many small hands when he worked in the family clinic, comforted the children who whimpered and begged for help. He could prescribe this or that, but even when a patient’s eyes milked over from the various drugs, you never knew. Pain made every person an island. You were never more alone.   Jun did not know how to speak, then, for his abeoji. He shouldn’t.    “I don’t know what you mean by-- take it away,” Jun said. “He’s on a high dose of oxycodone right now-- it blocks the pain receptors in the brain, so the pain is still there, it is just-- it’s like a shield. And it increases the release of dopamine, which helps a person relax.” It was strange to recite all of this, as if he was reporting to a teacher, or more likely, teaching a student. How bizarre that Mu-yeol knew nothing of these things and yet here Jun was, trusting him to put his hands on his abeoji.   But he’d do anything. Anything. 

  MARLIN:   “I mean I can make sure he doesn’t feel pain.” Mu-yeol said. “Maybe it would give him some clarity of mind to better hear anything you might want to say to him. Before you can’t.”   He bit his lip, worried that was a little too frank. But Jun did not like things sugarcoated.    “I know from experience that when you know it’s the last thing you’re going to say to someone, you’re your most honest. It won’t come out poetically like in the movies, but it is honest.”

  JUN:  There was nothing that Abeoji had to say to him. There was nothing that Jun had to say to his abeoji.   Yesterday night, their first night in the hospital, Yeong-seok had still been able to talk a little. He did say some good-byes then. Jun watched, standing with his hands behind him, as Eomma cried and his abeoji touched her cheek. He spoke in exhausted Korean to all of them. He told Sky to keep practicing the clarinet. He told Star to help their mother. He told Sun not to lose her sense of humour. He told Tae that he was proud of him for winning his championship.   To Jun, he thanked him for bringing Tae to his championship and he asked about the store.   Of course he asked about the store.   And then he told Jun to open the store.   Jun had stared blankly at Abeoji, and for a split second he’d pretended as though he just misheard him. Gently, he suggested to Abeoji that perhaps the store should remain closed. Firmly, Abeoji told him no. We do not close the store, he said.    So after a few hours of sleep in one of the chairs in the waiting room, Jun jerked awake and he went to the Moon Market at five like always, and he opened the store. He worked for nine hours and then closed it early, driving back to the hospital where his family still was. At this point, Abeoji was even worse than he’d been the night before, intubated, unable to talk on his own. Jun knew that if Abeoji could talk, he would have scolded Jun for leaving early. If he could talk right now? He would remind Jun to open the store.   Jun said none of this to Mu-yeol, simply nodded. “Yes, if you can, that-- my siblings would like that. Thank you, hyung.” He swallowed roughly and nodded a second time. He blinked a few times as though there were tears, but his eyes were painfully, painfully dry.  

[nijuuuu]

Fire Hazard

As y’all could apparently tell, a certain fic author has inspired me to write some gay. So here’s some fluffy gay.

Original fic for @fictober-event​.

Prompt 19:  “Yes, I admit it, you were right.” 

Rating: T+

Title: Fire Hazard

Warnings: Alcohol mentions, light harassment

AO3 mirror here.

Sophie moved like a skillful calligrapher’s brush, leaving behind deliberate, knowing strokes with every footstep. When she got close enough, the scent of freshly brewed lattes drifted through the air, and when the sun was shining, you could see pretty auburn dots run along the nape of her neck. Even her dorky glasses paired absurdly well with the gently cresting waves of her umber hair.

Sophie was beauty. Sophie was grace.

And Sophie was irritatingly straight.

“Why don’t you take a picture, paintcan? It’d last longer,” she smirked, shimmying into her usual chair.

Cait glared and stuck her tongue out. “Tough luck. I’m stuck with you until the lease runs out. And… I was staring at your shirt. You have a rough night?”

Sophie tilted her head to the side and absentmindedly ran two slender fingers over one of the holes in her shirt, revealing just a little more of her smooth, pale skin. “Hmm, I seem to recall you having a rough night yourself a while back. Or, more accurately, waking up next to one.”

“She was a mistake. A drunken, mistake, you overpaid coffee machine, and that was three months ago.” Cait avoided her roommate’s gaze by lifting her mug of scalding tea to her face. HOT HOT HOT. Keep it together.

Sophie giggled, a sound so bright it could make the sun wear sunglasses. “Well. It’s costume day at the cafe! Isn’t that exciting?”

“You going as ‘laundry night’? You’re gonna be freezing your butt off.”

“Think more ‘drop-dead gorgeous werewolf,’” Sophie shot back, a hint of honey in her voice. A few keys jingled, and suddenly she was waltzing her way to the front door. “I’ll post the finished look on Insta, ‘kay? Look forward to it! And I’ll get tonight’s groceries. Just grab a good lunch, sleepyhead!”

And just like that, the scent of lattes disappeared, and the sky was downcast again.

See? Irritating.

Cait let out a beleaguered sigh and sank down in her chair. “Sleepyhead” was a new one. And with every new one came a new emotion she didn’t know she could have, and certainly not one she knew how to deal with.

She didn’t sign up for this. Not at first, at least. Despite their constant bickering, the two had been good friends since high school. When they managed to get into the same university, they decided to move in together. Sophie was kind of a mess back then, and she had terrible taste in men. So moving in was for her own good. Yep. That was it. Cait could think of no other reason.

Until Sophie became less of a mess. She started to go through boyfriends slower than one a month, thank god, until the number finally dwindled down to zero. Then came her brushstroke movements and the way she would gently lift that lucky soup spoon to her lips. She started to do heart-melting little gestures, leaving fresh plates of cookies on the countertop, placing little sticky notes on the fridge to wish her roommate a good day. And then she landed that new job at the cafe. Cait was always weak for a good latte. She never stood a chance, really.

It had been almost two years since then, two tantalizing years. “Never get with your roommate,” her friends had cautioned her. “It never ends well.” That, plus the fact that Sophie had loudly proclaimed her love for men after a drunken night or two of revelry. Ah, how love can fizzle out as quickly as it sparks. Really, Cait never stood a chance.

“So can my dumbass heart stop for just one second!!” she yelped, leaping up in her chair. She couldn’t think straight with her roommate around, damnit! How inconsiderate. How irritating. She had commissions to finish, and a strongly worded letter to send to her professor, and that 200k slowburn wasn’t going to read itself.

That last one sounded good right now. Drawing could wait. Cait slapped her mug into the sink and trundled her way over to her laptop.

A few tear-jerking hours later, she felt her phone buzz on the tabletop. She took a glance. The barista of her dreams had just shared a post on Insta.

Cait had never unlocked the screen faster.

Sophie always looked cute in her uniform. But today, she was positively heavenly. Her apron caressed the generous curves of her torn shirt, giving the slightest peeks to a sight that could make anyone’s stomach churn. Her black stockings stretched over her short but heinously delicate legs, ending inside her fuzzy brown boots. She was holding a drink and biting the straw with a vengeance while wearing a playful expression on her face that really did not help Cait’s problem. Actually, the adorable creature was even baring a set of fake fangs, which really, really did not help the problem. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and a soft wolf-ear headband sat atop her head. And she was winking, her long lashes practically kissing the lenses of her big round glasses, showing off a hint of her brownish-red eyeshadow that unfortunately drew the line of sight directly to those irritatingly honeyed irises.

She was probably violating a few dress codes. She was a fire hazard. A horribly dangerous fire hazard in Cait’s heart.

Another notification broke the silence. This time, it was a DM.

Soupie: Paintcan!!

Soupie: New look uploaded!!! ;>

Soupie: Pretty fired up today.

Kitcait: Oh. Didn’t notice

Soupie: Well, NOTICE!!!

Kitcait: Still wearing that shirt in the freezing cold I see

Kitcait: Blogger to the core

Soupie: ...

Soupie: If you didn’t like the look, you can just say so.

Kitcait: No!! No. I actually think it’s really cute. Really. I don’t think anyone else could pull it off as well. Cute and seasonal. Nice ears lmao

Soupie: I--

Soupie: Thanks.

A moment passed.

Soupie: Suspicious thanks, but thanks, Cait.

Kitcait: Ye

Soupie: How’s your lunch going? You eating well, you vampire?

Cait snorted and sent Sophie a quick selfie with her half-eaten cup of instant noodles.

Kitcait: Meal of champions

Soupie: HEY!!!

Soupie: You’re gonna pass out from malnutrition some day!

Soupie: We’re going to have a decent dinner and I will cook the whole thing and feed it to you by hand if I have to.

Kitcait: Looking forward to biting your hand

Soupie: Worth it. Break’s over gotta go see you in 4

Ahhh,

Oh, jeez.

That adorable, kindhearted, devastating idiot.

How was she supposed to concentrate on anything now?

“Deep breaths, dumbass,” said Cait, clutching her comically pounding chest.

It was a bright, crisp autumn day outside. Some fresh air couldn’t hurt. A quick stroll might help. Maybe she could go get those groceries instead. But she would have to meet Sophie as she got out from work. You know, so they didn’t accidentally double up on expensive produce. Yeah, that’s why. Not because the short, peppy woman happened to be Aphrodite in an apron.

Cait stood up tugged on her overcoat. She paused as she saw the enormous orange blanket scarf that hung by the door, a relic from the previous tenants of their apartment.

Well. Just in case, yeah?

Cait lifted the fabric and hung it on her arm, and she was out the door as well.

Her arms were starting to get sore from lugging around two full bags of food, but luckily for her, she had the gift of long legs and a quick gait. And she was already getting close to the cafe. It would be all worth it if she could just see--

Sophie, standing right outside her workplace, in all of her ‘drop-dead gorgeous werewolf’ glory. The bottom of her shirt was tied in a little knot now, lifting above her midriff and her long plaid circle skirt. Cait tried her very, very best not to get lost in the sight of the most dazzling roommate in the world.

A roommate who, to her immediate dismay, was chatting with a local frat boy.

“Jerry, I’m too tired for this, I really have to get home--”

“Come on! Hey, you look great today.” His voice rumbled up and down the street like a revving engine, attracting more than a little attention from passers-by.

“I really have to--”

“Just one drink? I’m buyin’! We can go get the good stuff!” The wild gorilla-man gesticulated a little too enthusiastically. Enough was enough.

“Sophie!” Cait stepped forward and ruffled the barista’s hair. “Funny I should see you here.”

“Hey!” Jerry’s tone soured. “I saw you at that party. You’re that dy--”

“Six-foot-tall, MMA-certified lesbian,” snapped Cait, “who would love an excuse to smack your scrawny ass into the leaves. Or, you know. To call the cops.”

The man scoffed and thankfully began to trundle away. “You’re no fun anyway.”

Cait let out a shaky sigh. It really wasn’t like her to pick a fight, but hell if she didn’t look at least a little bit cool in the heat of the moment.

She turned back towards Sophie.

“Hey. Are you hurt?”

Her roommate shook her head and stepped a little closer, holding the sides of her arms. “I’m okay. I don’t think he was going to do anything, he’s just kinda pushy, but...” Sophie looked up with soft eyes. “Thanks. Cait.”

Suddenly, fireworks.

So irritating!

“Anyway, MMA? Really?”

Cait chuckled, thankful for the change of topic. “I did taekwondo as a kid. Same difference.”

Her roommate let out a heart-stopping giggle, and they started walking back home. Somehow, up close and in person, she was a couple thousand times cuter. And suddenly the sidewalk became an object of close scrutiny.

“Achoo!”

Cait quickly glanced back over and let out an involuntary snort. Sophie was shivering in her scandalously frayed top, her nose and cheeks growing pink.

“Come on, wolfie, let’s sit down somewhere.”

As they made their way to a park bench, the taller girl slipped off her overcoat and draped it around Sophie, who let out a noise somewhere between a grunt and a breath of appreciation.

“Told you you’d get cold,” said Cait in a hushed tone, tucking the scarf around her friends’ neck.

Sophie scrunched up her face in a way that made the lesbian say a quick internal prayer of thanks that the two could exist at the very same point in time, just centimeters apart in this cold, cruel world.

“Yes, I admit it, you were right.”

Ugh.

Even her pout was perfect.

Then she flipped around and pressed up against Cait, filling her mind with nothing but coffee grounds and confetti. Sophie’s hair was on fire in the golden-hour glow as she leaned her head against her roommate’s chest. A couple stray threads tickled Cait’s jaw and positively set her cheeks ablaze as well.

“You know,” Sophie said with a playful sigh, “you’d be pretty good boyfriend material.”

Cait gave a slightly bitter scoff. “What about girlfriend material?”

They said nothing for just a moment too long.

The world passed by a mile a minute around them, and the feisty barista was uncharacteristically silent.

Suspiciously silent.

Sophie buried her face in that annoyingly orange scarf.

Cait fought back her heart as it threatened to leap up to her throat. She’d felt this before. But something was different this time. Oh gods, maybe, just maybe, something was different this time.

“Soph,” she whispered softly, her voice breaking with every heartbeat. “Can… can I see your face right now?”

The shorter girl disobediently turned the other way.

But Cait leaned forward, reaching out, and suddenly she was slowly easing her pouting crush’s head to face her own and gently prying the warm, soft scarf back downwards. It revealed a constellation of vivid freckles set aglow. And Sophie’s face was the most beautiful shade of red in the world, even redder than Cait had imagined in her wildest dreams.

“Holy cow,” Cait exhaled.

And for a single, heart-stopping moment, all the two could do was stare.

Until all of a sudden, fingertips were combing through umber hair, and slender hands were clinging on to the others’ back, and lips were meeting each other in near-painful desperation.

Sweet, soft, tender paradise for just a few seconds.

“I thought--”

“Cait. Hush,” whispered Sophie, looking directly into her roommate’s eyes this time.

And they both obliged and came together once more, a whirlwind of emotions kicking up in Cait’s heart that managed to settle on something warm and almost tearful. The kiss was gentler the second time around, a little kinder, and just a little harder to pull away again.

Then they both sat back into the bench, wide-eyed, looking off into the treetops.

“Weren’t you straight?” blurted Cait.

“Back then? I said I liked guys, you disaster, not that I exclusively liked guys.” Sophie seemed to be fighting back an enormous smile, cheeks still holding their brilliant rosy tint. “Plus, you didn’t hear what I mumbled after that. That I was maybe starting to think about girls. Well. Girl. To be accurate.” She continued, voice trailing off.

“Oh,” was all said girl could manage, as she felt soft arms wrapping gingerly around her.

For a beautiful moment, Sophie was all there ever was.

“You know,” the barista giggled mischievously into her roommate’s ear, “I can maybe. Think of some other nicknames I’d like to call you now.”

And Cait was on fire again.

“How about we make dinner first?”

[sevenincubistolemyheart]

Safe Haven

Au: Librarian! Jimin x Reader

Tag list: @xsunnyhoseokx @amiraclerenee

Rating: PG-13

Potential Triggers: Brief mentions of unease in the dark, and brief cursing!

Pairing: Librarian! Jimin x Reader

Genre: Fluff! So much fluff!

Length: 2.9k+

Summary: When the new librarian startles you while making tea on a cold winter day, you quickly find yourself warming up to him. As the storm grows worse outside, he quickly devises a plan to keep you warm and content, even when the power and heat go off.

Unlike other people who looked to coffee to give them their daily energy boost, tea had always been your go-to. Tea and books had become the perfect combination for whenever you needed comfort. There was nothing better than a light, sweet cup of tea and a fantasy novel as it rained outside your favorite little library.

There was something to be said for the expansive, seemingly never-ending library a few blocks up, but you’d always felt more at home here, in the more quiet, out of the way library. There was always noise in the other library which stopped you from becoming fully immersed in your novels as you wished to. So when you stumbled across this one, you quickly fell in love.

Sure, there wasn’t as many books, but there was plenty of stories even with the smaller selection. The atmosphere was always peaceful and calm, and the staff was consistently welcoming. It became your home away from home, and you quickly became family as you visited every day without fail. There was a room with an old school fireplace, of course, situated a good distance away from any bookshelves in its own little room along with several comfy chairs which became your safe space.

You stopped by for at least an hour every day after school, despite it increasing how long it’d take you to walk home from here. For Christmas last year you’d brought in one of those Keurig pod machines with a decent mix of hot chocolate, tea, and coffee pods, plus a few mugs and Suran had nearly cried from the happiness of not having to go out of her way to head Starbucks every morning just to get her coffee fix. All of the staff was super appreciative and pitched in every month to get more drink pods when they began to run low.

Currently, you were refilling your tea mug and reading while you waited for the machine to finish brewing. It’d been a long, boring day of classes and getting cat-called on your way here hadn’t done anything to improve your mood but you already found yourself calming down now that you were here.

“Oh wow, I didn’t know we had a Keurig here!”

The excited voice right next to you made you jump, an unladylike sound escaping your lips in surprise as you dropped your book, pouting as you realized you had definitely lost the page you were on. You bent down to get it, but another hand grabbed the book before you could.

“Ah, City of Bones huh? The Mortal Instruments is a classic for the Supernatural Romance genre.”

You blushed a bit, used to being judged for your reading preferences as you turned to look at the boy currently holding your book captive. He was cute, with purple hair he somehow made look casual and thin round glasses. His outfit was semi-professional since he was wearing a suit and tie, but he's definitely added his own flair with the dark green plaid jacket he was wearing and black jeans.   He raised an eyebrow at you and you flushed as you realize you’d been staring at him like an idiot while he waited for you to respond to his statement.

“Y-Yeah I totally agree. I love the series, this is actually my second read through since Cassandra Clare just released the next trilogy. I just want to make sure I’ve got all the characters and lore set straight in my head before I start the next series.” You rambled a bit out of embarrassment and turned to tend to your tea as the Keurig beeped.

“That’s right, I totally forgot A Queen of Air and Darkness dropped recently! I’ll need to pick that up. Anyway, the name’s Park Jimin. I’m guessing you're the girl that likes her tea more sugar than tea that my new coworkers have been telling me about?” He joked as he watched you stir a good amount into your cup before picking it up and turning to face him again, leaning on the table and taking your book from his hands as he offered it with your free hand.

A fond smirk tugged onto your lips as you laughed slightly. “Hey don’t knock it till you try it Jimin. Your coworkers only drink their coffee black to match their bitterness over my bomb ass tea.” You introduced yourself as well as he gave the most adorable giggle at your playful retort. “Well, we’re in the same boat then cutie. I’m a fan of sweet tea too.”

You looked over at Namjoon as he walked over to get his daily 8 cups of coffee a day. “You both are crazy, black coffee is the best. Your tounges are just defective. Anyway, rookie stop flirting with our favorite bookworm and get over here and help me restock these books. You can talk to her some other time, she’s here every day.” He said after he finished brewing his coffee, smirking at the blush that lit up the younger man’s face.

You rolled your eyes, lightly shoving Namjoon’s arm. “Good job Joon, you broke the poor boy.  Go easy on him, it’s his first day.” Namjoon chuckled, slinging his arm around the shorter boys shoulder as he steered him towards the book cart they would be dealing with. Jimin came to his senses a few seconds later calling back to you over his shoulder. “I’ll talk to you later if you’re still here!”

You shook your head with a wistful smile and took a sip of your tea as you headed back into your secluded room, the fireplace crackling peacefully as you made yourself comfortable and prepared to read the afternoon away. You set a quick alarm on your phone to remind you it was time to go home and were lost in the fantasy world of your book mere minutes later.

Sometime later you jumped as someone startled you by placing a hand on your shoulder out of nowhere, but sighed in relief as you realized it was just Jimin, a silly grin on his face. “You’re a jumpy one aren’t you?” He teased a bit, taking his hand off your shoulder. You bookmarked your page and turned to him fully. “Only when I’m reading. I tend to get lost in the world. Anyway, how’d book sorting with Namjoon go?” His nose crinkled as he pouted. “It was fine, he’s just a little bossy. It’s going to take some getting used to.” He admitted. You stifled a laugh at that, knowing very well how intimidating Namjoon could be if he had to after being here for so long.

“Don’t worry. He may seem like kind of a stuck up jerk, but he’s actually really sweet. He’s only so particular about books because he loves them so much. This library is his life, ya know? He built it from the ground up, so it’s very important to him.” You explained as Jimin’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? I had no idea.” He mumbled. You looked down at your alarm as it suddenly blared and quickly turned it off, smiling apologetically at Jimin as you gathered your book and schoolbag, taking the now empty teacup to wash it before you left.

“Sorry, that’s my cue to go home now.”

You headed to the door with the boy in tow and he snorted, looking at you like you were nuts. “No way. You’re gonna freeze to death out there! Did you even bring a hat and gloves?” He asked in a scolding tone, making you roll your eyes. “No, it wasn’t that bad out earlier, why would I have?” You asked as you headed to the tea station, washing your cup before drying it and placing it neatly back on the rack. “Maybe so you were prepared for the huge snowstorm that’s currently going on out there?” He sasses back, motioning to one of the large windows.

A quick glance confirmed your fear. Much as you hated to admit it, he was right. The wind was howling and no doubt ice cold and the snow would be flying right in your face from the speed. You couldn’t walk home in that storm.  “But the library’s going to close soon!” You mumbled worriedly, causing Jimin to perk up. He got an idea and headed over to the front desk where Suran was currently working and leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. “Hey, can I stay here after closing with her? She walks home and I can’t in good conscience let her go out there without a hat, gloves or even a proper coat.”

Suran looked at you for a moment before she sighed and nodded, reluctantly. “...Fine. But only because I know her so well and trust her. Thank God Namjoon had to leave early today. Here’s the key.” She took out the key from her desk drawer and handed it to Jimin. “Make sure to lock up when you leave, and you’re on cleaning duty this weekend to make this up to me.” Jimin smiled victoriously and nodded. “Deal! Thank you so much Suran, I owe you!” She nodded with an amused smile and stretched, getting ready to head out herself as she put on her coat.

Jimin walked back over to you and you looked up from texting your family you’d be home late because of the storm. The smile on his face made you wary and you questioned him. “...What’s with the ear to ear grin Park? You’re kinda creeping me out here.” He smirked and let a key dangle from his fingertips. “I’ve got the keys, so we can stay here until the snow dies down and I can walk you home!” He said smugly, looking awfully proud of himself. The gesture was incredibly sweet and you found yourself smiling back at him.

“Thank you so much, that’s perfect! I can’t believe you pulled that off!” You chirped happily, and Jimin felt his heart warm at the innocent glee in your eyes.

Jimin all but purred at your praise and puffed up. “Never underestimate Park Jimin! I can charm anyone if it means keeping you safe and warm!” He said, pulling a superhero pose and making your happy giggle fill the air again. He was just thankful that he could convince you to wait it out, scared you were going to go out and risk getting sick.

As it turned out, the storm had no intent on slowing down and in fact only got worse as time passed much to your irritation. “Why is Jack Frost being such a dick? For the supposed Guardian of Fun he sure is sucking at his job…” You pouted but your grumbling only made Jimin’s eyes light up. “You know Rise of the Guardians? That’s my favorite movie!” He exclaimed making you smirk at him. “Somehow I don’t doubt that.”

Your light banter was cut short as the power suddenly went out, making you gasp as you were plunged into darkness, save for the small light from the fireplace. Besides that light glow, however, it was totally pitch black thanks to the winter months making the sky darken at a much earlier hour. Thanks to both of your phones dying an hour or so ago, and Namjoon’s hyper-fear of the books catching fire making sure no candles ever made their way into the library, any other sources of light were nonexistent.

“Welp. That’s what you get for provoking him.”

“Ow!” Jimin huffed as you thwacked him playfully for his comment, though there was a fond, if nervous, smile on your face nonetheless. He gently took hold of your arm after faintly making out your form and moved closer to the fire with you, feeling you begin to shiver as the heat was turned off along with the power. “Stay here.” He whispered to you quietly, moving to release you and leave you in front of the fireplace momentarily. “Where are you going?” He could detect the slight undercurrent of uneasiness and worry in your voice, and knelt down again, observing the way the flames made shadows dance across your face. He reached out and gently cup your face in his palm, keeping it there when you didn’t pull away, and instead leaned into his touch.

He looked into your eyes and whispered again, as if speaking any louder would awaken some great beast hidden within the shadows. “I’m just going to go get some blankets for us babygirl. Be good, and stay warm in front of the fire. I promise I’ll be right back. Okay?” He held out his pinky after pulling away from your face and you intertwined yours with his after a moment’s hesitance. He brought his thumb to his lips making your cheeks color at the intimate feeling of it all as you followed his lead and did the same. He gave you a cheeky grin. “There. Now it’s sealed with a kiss. I have to come back or you get to break my pinky.” You shook your head in disbelief of his antics but it had helped alleviate much of your unease, and you were thankful for that.

“Okay. But hurry back doofus. It’s not as warm without you next to me.” The confession slipped out from between your lips without thinking and you flushed in embarrassment but Jimin’s smile only widened before he got up and exited the room to go further into the darkness of the library.

It had only been a few minutes, but you were starting to get fidgety. Just as you were debating getting up to go and look for him, a blanket suddenly covered your head, making you squeal in surprise, much to Jimin’s amusement. “Did ya miss me princess?” He teased as he made himself comfortable once again beside you, cuddling underneath the blanket and gently pulling you into his side. You blushed, and probably would’ve pushed him away in any other circumstances, but he was just so warm and comfortable. You nuzzled closer into him and sighed in content and he aww’ed at you making you give him the finger.

He snickered, and you felt his body shake with his laughter. It wasn’t long before you were nodding off, the heat exuding from both the fireplace and Jimin getting to you as your eyes began to close. Jimin had been rambling on about something his friend Jungkook had done, but when he looked down and saw you sleeping peacefully against his shoulder, his eyes softened and he sighed in utter contentment. He slowly moved to lay down, gently positioning you so you were laying more comfortably against his chest, and placing the pillow he snagged from one of the chairs underneath his head.

He observed your sleeping form for a moment, clearly contemplating something, before he gingerly kissed your cheek. He couldn’t help it, you just looked so cute like this! Cheeks burning, he made himself comfortable and made sure you were fully covered by the blanket before closing his eyes and quickly falling asleep himself.

Namjoon walked into the library the next morning bright and early after getting a call from the power company that he should go and check that everything was working alright. He’d always been a night owl, but thankfully the second cup of black coffee in his hand was giving him enough energy to be somewhat alert. So, when he went to open the library door and found it unlocked a flash of panic went through him as he rushed inside, careful to be quiet in case an intruder was still around.

He crept around the all too familiar library and found himself confused as not a single book seemed out of place. As he made his way towards the secluded room, he quickly relaxed at the sight before him, stifling the groan he wanted to let out as he saw you sleeping peacefully on Jimin’s chest, while said boy held you close to him protectively.

He couldn’t resist taking out his phone and snagging a few pictures. Perfect blackmail material for Jimin. Revenge would be sweet. Almost as sweet as the way you made your tea. The idea that suddenly hit him made him grin wickedly. He checked everything was working, locked the doors and then left, leaving you two to sleep a little longer.

It was 2 weeks later when Jimin and you were officially dating that Namjoon struck. You were chatting casually with your new boyfriend about where to go for your planned date that night as you made your cup of tea as you usually did. As you went to grab the sugar, you found it filled not with sugar, but with coffee. You sighed, figuring someone had made a mistake, and opened the plastic container usually filled with the sweet spice, ready to fix it as you had in the past only to look down to and flush bright red in embarrassment at the post-it note on top of the coffee. Curious at your sudden lack of response and blush, Jimin looked your shoulder to read it as well.

‘In case your wondering, this is how bitter I was when I found you sleeping here overnight with the doors unlocked. Enjoy your tea without sugar for a little as punishment~ :)’

Namjoon snickered behind his own mug of coffee at your reaction, though he quickly swallowed as Jimin whirled, and quickly spotted him. Uh oh.

“You’re the one who posted the photo in the library group chat! I’m gonna kill you!”

Namjoon quickly ducked out of there, all while hiding a smug grin behind his mug.

Worth it.