#if she blinks rapidly that's a threat. Is she does not blink at all you are already dead.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Try Morse Core. Women Love Morse Code.

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#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #wei wuxian #lan jingyi #lan sizhui #jin ling #a-qing #ouyang zizhen #nameless red disciple #Girls speak in a series of clicks and trills that even the most adept linguists have difficulty decoding #Thankfully this rhythmic language can be translated to music notes #communication via specific vibrations of coiled metal wire is possible! #but- Ah shucks the guy with the guqin has his hands full. And also bloodied. #We need to resort to secondary girl communication. Blinking slowly at her. If she blinks slowly back - you're in. #if she blinks rapidly that's a threat. Is she does not blink at all you are already dead. #btw: Girls eyes translate lines of contrast to these series of air flow disturbances to create language. So they *can* read what we write. #This has been your daily GirlFacts tidbit. #Jokes aside. I get that the point was she has no tongue to speak with but it really does just come off as: #“5 teen boys in a room with a teen girl and dropping the ball so hard on how to proceed” #This is why men give up and kiss each other btw. (OKAY IM DONE SPREADING MISINFORMATION (for today))

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 57

Part 1 Part 56

The dark, it turns out, is better than sunset. Sunset turns the sky pinks and purples and reds. Will can’t be sure where he is. At least in the dark, all he has to worry about is a Demogorgon taking him.

Still, every shadow is a threat that Will’s running from soon enough. And once he starts running, there’s no way to stop. Will’s panting and breathless in the 2 a.m. darkness by the time he’s crawling through Eddie and Steve’s bedroom window.

It sticks briefly when he opens it, making an ungodly screch but then he’s up and through, and falling on and then over Eddie’s dresser with a loud clatter.

“What the fuck, Byers?” Eddie says, bolting out of bed to click his lamp on.

Will looks around the carnage that surrounds him – Eddie’s knick-knacks and books all over the floor and looks up at him sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“You should be!” Eddie replies, arms pantomiming a punch in Will’s direction. “I could’ve killed you!”

Steve, still laying down on the far side of their bed, snorts. “Like you’ve ever fought anyone in your life.” His voice crackles with interrupted sleep. He doesn't roll over, just keeps his face smushed into his pillow.

Eddie squawks. “You got something to say, Harrington?” he demands, finally standing up and putting his hands on his hips to loom over Steve where he’s still lying prone in the bed. Not that Steve notices, seeing as his eyes are still closed.

“Weak ass bitch.”

As Eddie gasps in affront, Will feels the sickly panic he’d felt upon waking slowly start to fizzle out.

Eddie kneels down beside Will to pick up his belongings, grumbling about his strengths, and how Will’s lucky he could feel him coming, and thank fuck Wayne’s not home. He doesn’t mention the spilled objects, doesn’t try to kick Will out. Will helps him pick up his belongings and hopes he can stay.

“What’re you doing here, baby Byers?” Eddie asks, flopping back onto the bed.

Will follows, burrowing into Steve’s side until he groans and slides over just enough that Will can fit. He turns his head on the pillow, opening one bleary eye to squint at Will.

“Can I stay here?” he asks, not looking away from Steve, living and breathing beside him.

Steve blinks a few times rapidly, clearly trying to wake up, before shifting his gaze past Will to look at Eddie. “Does your Mom know you’re here?” he asks.

Will turns onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. He bites his lip, doesn’t respond at all. Not that they seem to need it with the way he can feel them having a silent conversation above his head.

“She’s gonna freak out,” Eddie says gently.

Will slumps further into Eddie’s sheets. He can already feel the nip of the cold night’s air when they kick him out. Only, he doesn’t want to go. “She doesn’t get up until six.” He says it like a prayer. If he leaves this bed right now, Will thinks he might just explode.

Eddie blows out a breath. Will can’t tell without looking if he’s exasperated, or resigned, or just done entirely. He doesn’t look. Not until he feels Eddie slump into the bed next to him, bracketing Will between his and Steve’s warm, protective bodies. “What happened?”

He turns his head, not toward Eddie but to look at Steve, who’s looking back, breathing and alive. “I had a nightmare,” he says. The word doesn’t seem loaded enough for the way his breathing had ticked wrong through his lungs.

Steve turns his head, finally uncovering both eyes. There’s pillow marks on his cheek. He looks sleep-rumpled and soft. “About me?” he asks.

Eddie sucks in a quiet breath behind Will. Neither of them look his way. Will nods, chokes out, “you were back there,” through his dangerously clogged throat.

Steve’s eyes soften further, and he smiles sadly. “It’s alright, Will,” Steve says, ruffling his hair the way he always does. “They got me out, remember?”

Will nods. He doesn’t correct Steve; doesn’t mention that he woke up thinking of Steve’s quiet voice – it’s like, sometimes I blink, and it’s like I’m there – or how when he woke up, he was sure Steve’d been taken again, until he crawled in through the window and spotted two snoring lumps.

“Yeah, they got you out,” Will says, trying to convince himself that out means back.

They hold eye contact for a while, until Steve's eyes begin to droop. None of them have been sleeping well lately. Guilt curdles in Will’s stomach that he’d interrupted both of their sleep. But, he might’ve died if he’d stayed at home; just shriveled up like a raisin in his own worry.

“How about you stay for a little bit, and we drive you back before your Mom wakes up?” Eddie asks.

Will finally turns away from Steve. Eddie looks sad, and worn, and worried. Still, Will takes what’s on offer with both, greedy hands. “You won’t tell her?” he asks.

Eddie shakes his head, glaring over Will’s head when Steve makes a protesting noise. Steve sighs. “Fine, fine, we won’t tell her,” Steve mumbles. “She’d flip out anyway.”

Will settles into the warmth, lets it soak through his bones, and closes his eyes. He tries to fall back asleep, but the darkness behind his eyelids is where the monster’s live. He opens his eyes.

“What are you guys doing for Halloween?” he asks. The guilt surges again when Steve snuffles like he’d almost been asleep, but Eddie answers readily.

“Fuck all, I imagine.”

“Language,” Steve murmurs around his pillow, cutting the G and making it sound more like lan-wah. Will snorts.

“What about you?” Eddie asks, ignoring Steve entirely.

Almost vibrating with excitement, Will replies, “we’re going as the ghostbusters!”

“Haven’t seen that one,” Steve mumbles, making Will gasp, outraged, even as Eddie chimes in, “me neither.”

“You’re both dead to me,” he says on instinct. Then the memories of all the times he thought Steve really was dead trickle through his mind, and his intestines prickle. But then Steve and Eddie laugh quietly – alive alive alive. “Anyway, we’re going to dress up for school and I get to be Egon!”

“Gesundheit,” Eddie replies.

“Wait, you’re wearing them to school?” Steve asks, sitting up like this news is enough to invigorate him. “Bad idea, Byers.”

Will glares at him, brow furrowed. “Uh, why?” he asks, in that same tone that gets Jonathan to call him a brat.

Steve just rolls his eyes, and ruffles his hair again, this time much more violently. “No one dresses up in eighth grade, dummy. You’re gonna get like, beat up.”

Eddie reaches over Will to smack Steve on the head. “That’s terrible advice!” he says, shoving Steve back into the pillows and looming over Will with intense eyes. “You gotta embrace the whimsy of childhood while you still can, baby Byers.”

Steve scoffs. “Yeah, if he wants to get picked on.”

“That’s going to happen anyway,” Will says without thinking. When both boys’ eyes narrow, he continues hurriedly, “so I might as well have some fun with my friends!”

Steve grumbles his unintelligible complaints while he settles back into his pillow. Eddie wraps his arm around Will and shakes him around. “That’s my boy!” He says it like a proud parent. Will preens, ignoring the way his cheeks are warming at the praise.

Eddie yanks him down so they’re all three horizontal, cramped together in his small bed. “Now, sleep!” he demands.

Will dutifully closes his eyes, but even as the breathing of his two companions evens out, Will doesn’t fall asleep. He doesn’t mind, just revels in the warmth of being where he truly belongs.

Part 58

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect

#steve harrington #steddie #my fic #eddie munson #steddie upsidedown au #will byers

[wiser-girl]

5 Times Mike Got The Shovel Talk and 1 Time It Was Will

Post Byler get together and everyone finding out, Mike gets the expected shovel talk from Hopper. It actually goes surprisingly well, but it’s almost immediately followed by one from Jonathan which is 10x scarier. He does love Mike but he’s understandably still wary after the s4 of it all. Again, to be expected.

Then El is giving him what is easily the scariest talk of all, because she has enough first-hand experience to hit all his nerves. Lovingly, of course. But if he hurts her brother her powers will be involved, that’s not a threat it’s a promise.

Finally Mike relaxes a bit, it’s not like Joyce is the type to threaten her third son, so the family is finished. Then Lucas and Dustin are suddenly sitting him down and yeah ok, fair enough, it’s not like he hadn’t been protective when Max first joined. Though it is a little different considering they’ve known him for years but whatever. When they finish he jokingly asks if he should go get Will for his turn, and they just laugh. “As if, it’s Will. He’s not gonna hurt you.” Which is... true he guesses. Historically. Mostly. But then why did they need to talk to him? He knows he’s been a bit of a dick the last few years but he was going through some shit ok, he’d never intentionally hurt Will, not now. But maybe they don’t know that for sure, not like they do with Will.

A few days later Nancy knocks on his door when he’s hanging out with Will, and he grins, thinking it’s finally his boyfriend’s turn. But then she asks to talk to Mike. And she sits him down. And very cautiously reminds him that the Byers have been through a lot, more than the rest of them. And that can make things very messy if they don’t communicate. She tells him to be patient, kind, gentle. To Will. As if Mike hasn’t always been his most patient, kind, and gentle with him anyway.

And Mike knows she’s just trying to help, just trying to share her own similar experience dating a Byers boy, just trying to look out for both of them. But she sends him back with a smile, not even asking to talk to Will, and something in Mike breaks, just a little. Why do they think Will needs their protection? Except no, that’s not it, of course he does. But why do they think Mike doesn’t? Even though it’s Will who would never hurt him.

Except he has. Only a few times, and not without reason, but he has. The lies and miscommunication came from both ends. They were both dealing with their own horribly messy feelings, and they both got hurt in the process, even if the outcome was more than worth it. He knows he hides his feelings well, but surely not that well. Surely someone wants to make sure he’s looked after as well.

When Max barges into Will’s room as they lie on the bed together, he just sighs and gets up. He figured this was coming. “Not you Mike. I didn’t realise you were here, sorry,” she looks embarrassed. “I need to talk to Will.” “Is everything ok?” Will asks, looking confused. He and Max are definitely close, but it’s rare they hang out one-on-one. “No actually.” Max looks like she’s debating something, eyes flicking between them before she sighs, resigned. “It’s come to my attention that you are yet to get the shovel talk. So!” she claps, ushering him out the door. “Let’s move, I have some threatening to do.” Will scoffs but allows himself to be pulled away, looking only a little bit terrified. Which is understandable. It’s Max.

Max who turns to look back at Mike before she leaves, where he’s still frozen in shock. “What, Wheeler?” she narrows her eyes. Mike blinks rapidly, ignoring the tears that have suddenly appeared and clears his throat.  “Nothing, Mayfield,” he huffs. “I don’t need you to protect me. Especially not from Will.” The tears are still traitorously visible in his eyes. Max just looks at him for a long moment, then shakes her head. “No.” “No?” “No. I don’t care. Someone has to look out for you. Even if your boyfriend is so disgustingly in love with you I think he’d ruin himself if he ever messed up. But that’s not the point. Someone has to look out for the asshole.” she pauses, and smiles. “Someone has to look out for us.” Mike is stunned into silence again. Then he smiles back, just as soft. Before it turns into something wicked and Max groans. “You care about me!” Mike teases gleefully. “Yes I do you dick, repeat it to anyone and your dead.” She calls as she dramatically turns and storms out the room, flipping him off for good measure.

Mike just grins. She’s right, the assholes have to look out for each other. They need protecting too.

Edit: Full fic version!

#guys this got so out of hand so quickly help #one (1) request and I'll write it #considering I accidentally just wrote half of it anyway #can you tell I have a lot of thoughts about Mike Wheeler that are definitely not me projecting #and a lot of thoughts on MADWHEELER I LOVE THEM SO MUCH OK SAME PERSON DIFFERENT FONT AND ALL THAT ENTAILS #THEY GET EACH OTHER TO A PAINFUL DEGREE #madwheeler #byler #<- Hey best friends ily #mike wheeler #stranger things #my post #my writing #byler ficlet #kinda

[blackjackkent]

The Morphic Pool stinks unlike anything Hector has ever experienced.

The water is murky and bears a strange, acidic scent like vinegar with an undertone of rot. The boat cuts through it smoothly and yet it feels oddly thick against his oar.

Even with the Prism in his pack, he can feel the presence of the Brain, so close by now. A throbbing ache begins to pound in his temples.

Lae'zel is sitting in the fore of the boat as still as if she was a figurehead, her eyes flicking in all directions in search of a threat looming out of the dark. Jaheira looks comparatively relaxed but Hector can tell it's a deliberate act; she has both weapons out of their sheathes and resting across her lap ready for action.

And Karlach is hunched over in evident pain; every once in a while the engine in her chest gives a heavy whir and flame shows within the chinks of her armor.

"All right?" he asks her.

"Yeah," she answers tersely. A pause. "You hear that, Hec?"

"Hear what?" And then he does hear it - a strange hissing, crackling sound coming from above them.

"Oh, hells--"

WHAM!

The magic-infused stalactite slams down through their boat, shattering it apart with a burst of force that sends them all flying into the fetid water.

Gods, it's freezing cold as well as repulsive; Hector sputters as his head breaks the surface and he fumbles fruitlessly in all directions for some purchase.

"KARLACH!" he yells, blinking rapidly to clear the blur of water from his eyes. "ARE YOU ALL RIGHT? JAHEIRA! LAE'ZEL!"

"I'm here, soldier!" he hears Karlach shout from somewhere within the fog.

"As am I!" calls Jaheira. "Get to shore; we will meet you!"

Lae'zel does not respond, but Hector can hear a muffled string of githyanki curses followed by an ungainly splashing.

Hector sighs with relief and for a moment lets his weight just hang in the water, staring up at the ceiling. Then he remembers that same ceiling dropped the stalactite on them without warning and decides that this is not the correct place to rest.

He has not had much practice at swimming himself, but starts his own awkward paddle towards the shore and reaches it about the same time as the others.

As they stumble out onto dry land, shaking the strange, viscous water from bodies and clothes.... pain stabs through Hector's head, a sudden explosion that knocks him onto his knees in an instant.

Narrator: An overwhelming force pushes into your mind. The brain. It is here.

Not since his first brush with the Absolute, on the outskirts of the goblin camp so many months ago, has he felt such agony from the contact.

"-you--- -pawn-- --thrall-- -PUPPET-- -anomaly... -ERASE- remove-- -extinguish-"

The pain eases. Hector gasps for breath, makes an attempt to stagger back to his feet, collapses back onto his knees.

"Fuck," he mumbles.

Karlach barks a hoarse laugh without humor. "You said it."

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #bjk writes her own party banter #(in this case all of the dialogue except the absolute's is me XD ) #the animation in this sequence was fun

[phillippadgettwrites]

Fun Run

Rated X / 1656 words / posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

CW for dubcon/SA

It’s warm but overcast—perfect weather for running. Scully synchronizes the strike of her heels against the pavement to her measured breaths, falling into a kind of trance that allows her to forget about the energy she’s exerting. The lakeside path is mostly deserted, which makes her immediately notice the sound of a second pair of sneakers pounding rhythmically several yards behind her.

The hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention—alerting her to a threat that her higher reasoning does not yet have evidence for—and she feels the absence of her backup weapon strapped around her ankle. She knows she should always wear it, but the continued jostle on her long runs tends to rub the skin raw over her lateral malleolus, so in practice it typically remains stashed in the glovebox of her car.

The hollow echo of the other runner grows closer, and Scully picks up speed. She doesn’t dare break into a full sprint that she won’t be able to maintain long enough to get back to her car, but she pushes herself to the limit of a sustainable pace. Still, the footsteps grow louder. Whoever is behind her likely has much longer legs. They are likely male. They are likely aware that this park isn’t heavily populated on a weekday at this time. She looks across the lake at the parking lot on the other side. She estimates that it will take her three to five minutes to get there. A lot can happen in three to five minutes

Her lungs are burning and the muscles in her legs have lost sensation. The footsteps draw closer and fade towards her left, and she can now hear the labored breaths of the other runner as they close the last few yards between themselves and Scully. With absolutely no plan, she abruptly veers off the path, muting the slap of her shoes against the pavement as she sets off across a grassy field. When the second set of sneakers also falls silent, her heart springs into her ears, cutting out her hearing. Before she has a split second to think about her next steps, one strong arm winds its way around her waist. She yelps, then uses all the strength she can muster to push her heels into the ground and throw her weight back, knocking both herself and her assailant off-kilter.

She falls backward and lands against his chest, and they both grunt as the force of the fall knocks the respective wind out of their lungs. Scully rolls to the side and feels the brush of grass against her knees and palms. She begins to push herself up off the ground, but a hand on her shoulder quickly twists her around and she is suddenly on her back with the weight of a grown man pinning her down by the hips.

“Hey,” he says insistently, trying to catch her hands as she swings at him aimlessly and thrashes around, her eyes squeezed shut tight. “Scully, stop!”

At the sound of her name, she opens her eyes and blinks rapidly at the sweat-damp face of the man above her. He’s panting, his plush bottom lip hanging open and his eyebrows knit with concern. Now that she is no longer taking swings at him, he plants his hands on the ground on either side of her head and suspends himself over her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says breathlessly. “I thought you knew it was me.”

She stares at him, disoriented, as the spike of cortisol coursing through her veins gradually begins to subside. She becomes aware of the press of his pelvis against her own, and the amount of skin that is exposed around her running shorts and sports bra. Mulder is shirtless, bronzed and shimmering. His toned belly flexes each time he sucks in a new breath, and she watches as a bead of sweat gathers in his belly button and then runs down the trail of hair beneath it to dampen his waistband.

When her eyes make their way back to his face, she finds that he is making a similar assessment of her body. She feels herself blush under his scrutiny as he examines her cleavage, but she also feels an anticipatory throb between her legs. She flexes her glutes, which pushes her pelvis up into his just slightly, and he makes a little noise in the back of his throat that sends her hips up again of their own volition. They lock eyes and hang there, suspended between before and after with heaving chests. Scully flashes her eyes down to his lap, to the protrusion at the front of his shorts, then pushes her hips up against him once more.

Mulder drops from his hands to his elbows, and her neck is already extending to meet him when he presses his mouth against hers. He tastes like salt and metal, like raw elements and animal instincts. He bites at her bottom lip tenderly, and she whimpers as she slips her hands under his shorts on either side of his hips. His skin is damp with sweat, hot and smooth as she first squeezes his ass cheeks and then runs one hand around to the front to take hold of his erection. Mulder sucks in a surprised breath, then groans.

He sits up abruptly, grabbing her running shorts by the waist and shucking them off her hips, along with her panties. He moves off of her and peels the fabric down her legs as she watches with fascinated excitement, and then he pushes one of her knees to the side and rakes his eyes over her cunt. She feels herself water under his watch, and the swell of her clit throbbing behind her pubic bone. Mulder reaches into his shorts and pulls his cock free, giving himself several slow strokes as he stares between her legs. Scully feels like she’s on fire, like she’s overloaded with an electrical current that her body cannot contain. Reaching out, she wraps her hand around the head of his cock and squeezes, breaking him from his trance. He moves over her, his shorts still bunched up under his erection, and pushes inside.

Scully’s back arches up off the grass, her mouth hanging open but not producing a sound. Mulder stays still for a moment, lowering his head and kissing the corner of her mouth while she adjusts to his size. When she has the wherewithal to kiss him back, he takes this as his indication that she is ready to continue, and draws his hips back before he slams into her again.

“Oh my god,” she says on a gasp, digging her fingernails into the solid muscles of his back.

Mulder sighs with satisfaction, grinding his hips in delicious little figure-eights. She feels it all, every inch of his skin pressed against hers and the spiky scratch of his pubic hair. He kisses her sweetly and then pulls back a bit, shifting his weight for a better angle. When he resumes, it’s with sharp staccato thrusts that slam against her cervix, contorting her face into a mask of pleasure and pain. After a few minutes, he reaches up and pulls one of her hands from around his neck, guiding it down to where they are joined. Scully blushes, which strikes her as absurd, but complies with his implicit demand. Mulder watches her fumble in the tight space between their bodies until her middle finger is wedged snugly against her clit. Satisfied that she’s in position, he begins a slow, deep grind that pushes her finger even more firmly into her flesh. She feels herself clench around him as he nudges her closer to the edge, and he grunts at the sensation, but doesn’t slow down.

She watches his face as he watches the twitch of his own hips against her, and the flexing muscles in her forearm as she teases a telltale tingle out of her clit. She knows she’s close, but she doesn’t want to tell him. She wants to see his face when he feels it. She wants to see him fall apart. Warmth spreads from her pelvis down her legs, and she fights to keep her eyes open as it slowly overtakes her. She peaks, and his mouth falls open as his eyes slam closed, a low guttural moan rumbling up from his chest.

“Oh, fuck,” he hisses, then starts pumping into her rapidfire, doubling and extending the force of her orgasm. She floats on a sea of pleasure until she feels the heat of him inside her, and the hot rush of his cum spilling out onto the grass.

His head falls into the crook of her neck as they both bask in it, and slowly she becomes aware of the world around her. Chirping birds, the hum and rumble of traffic nearby. She recognizes the murmur of voices steadily growing louder.

“Mulder,” she hisses, pushing at his bare hip. “Someone’s coming, get up!”

Mulder lifts his head with a familiar smirk that tells her he has a joke at the ready, but when he looks beyond her to the trail, his eyes go big. As discreetly as possible, he slides off her and tucks his slippery cock back into his shorts before finding hers and helping her into them. Just as the other pair of runners passes by, he extends his legs and begins to stretch his hamstrings.

“Beautiful day,” he says casually, and the two runners nod in greeting, then disappear around a bend in the trail.

Scully stands and Mulder looks up at her, confused.

“I wasn’t finished with my run,” she says lightly, then begins a slow trot across the grass and back onto the pavement.

She smiles as she hears Mulder scurry to catch up with her, his cum running down the inside of her thigh.

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #smut #xfiles

[mppmaraudergirl]

in retrograde (sloppy)

by popular request, here is a continuation of the morning amnesia scene now with James having lost his memories.

"James! I need your help. I turned my eye away from Harry for one second and he rolled the cat in the mud." She bustles into the room in a hurry. "Padfoot will be here—James! Ugh!"

It's not often Lily Potter is irritated at her husband and even rarer is a day in which he sleeps longer than she does. But today is, in fact, one of those days and it's proving to be a bit challenging for Lily to juggle her rambunctious four-year-old while getting a few chores done.

She rips the covers off the bed. "James! Did you hear me?"

His messy-headed self pops off the pillow, sleepily calling, "Wuzzit?"

"Harry's made a mess of the cat. Can you please lend a hand?"

James swipes at his eyes before feeling around for his glasses. Blinking away the last of the sleep he straightens to look at her. "Evans?"

Lily sighs in defeat. "Now's not the time. Please come tend to Harry." The sound of the back door shutting nearly makes her jump ("Potters! Some greeting this is!"). "Oh great. Padfoot is here. Now you really don’t have an excuse, do you?"

"What?" James tries again, propping himself onto his arms as he stares at her. "Why am I… why are we at Godric’s Hollow?"

"Unbelievable," she utters before heading back toward the living room.

“Wait!” James calls; Lily turns around to spot him nearly tripping over the bedclothes he’s tangled in as he throws himself out of bed. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve told you. Harry’s gotten into it—”

“Who’s Harry?” He asks this so earnestly that Lily stops herself from turning away again. When she meets his eye, however, he seems to have moved on from whatever prank he’s somehow cooked up in the haze of his sleepiness. “Wow, Evans. You look… blimey.”

She blushes unwittingly at the compliment, or perhaps from the way his eyes travel down her body as though he’s leaving a physical trail behind; and in a way, the goosebumps that erupt at the memory of what they’d done the night before are the physical trail.

“We don’t have time for a quick shag, James. Didn’t you hear me say Sirius is here?”

“A quick what?” he chokes out, face flushing red so rapidly that Lily starts growing concerned.

“Are you feeling well, babe? You seem… off today.”

“Babe? You call me babe? Okay, I must be dreaming. This is far too elaborate of a prank for the lads to pull off. They could possibly have worked out some sort of projection spell. But you’re so much—curvier than I remember—”

“What in Merlin’s name are you talking about, James? If you are unwell, have a lie-in, but if you’re having me on when I’ve already told you I need your help with Harry, I’ll divorce you. For real this time,” she threatens, proud of herself for how earnest the end comes out when usually she can’t help but laugh through the threat.

Her pride melts away as James braces himself against the door of their mahogany wardrobe. She takes it as a little victory that he is still strong enough to allow her to guide him to their bed, as white as he suddenly looks.

“James, I’m worried about you,” she says as she reaches out to touch his forehead.

“Did you say divorce?”—and for a brief, inciting moment, Lily thinks he’s really committed to this bit he’s doing, but then he continues—“Good godric, are we married?”

“Hey Prongs,” interrupts Sirius from the doorway. “What’s on, mate? Thought we were hanging out today.”

“Oh, can I come?!” Harry pleads, coming out from behind Sirius. “Can I, Dad?!”

James opens his mouth as if he plans to answer and then promptly pukes all over the bedroom floor.

#sloppy in retrograde #idk guys #here's how it goes

[wonderlandleighleigh]

I would love to see that dinner scene with Lenny flirting shamelessly infront of Joel

Lenny makes good on his threat to flirt with her through dinner.

His warm hand settles on her thigh, just above her knee, under the skirt of her dress the moment she sits down, and Midge finds it hard to be annoyed about that.

And she has to admit, she's never seen that look on Joel's face before. It's as if someone pressed the reset button on his brain.

Eventually the hand leaves her leg, instead his arm wraps around her chair, and his fingertips brush her arm as they both chat with the family around the table.

"I'm surprised the two of you could get away at all for this trip," Rose comments. "You're both so busy with work and the children."

"We needed a break," Midge shrugs with a grin. "Lenny just wrapped up his memoir for Knopf, and Gordon put the show on hiatus for the rest of the summer. It was time."

Lenny nods in agreement. "I'm not the biggest fan of the Catskills, but I'll take the excuse to spend as much time with my beautiful wife as I can."

Midge beams. "Aw, he missed me."

"Of course I missed you, holed up in my office, pouring over memoir pages, having to watch from afar as you killed on television, my poor heart couldn't take much more distance," he confesses charmingly.

"Oh, that's so romantic," Shirley gushes.

Joel, rolls his eyes. "You live in the same apartment. How much distance could there have been?"

"Ships in the night," Midge shrugs innocently. "I'd get home from the show and get ready for bed, and by the time Lenny was done in his office, I was already asleep."

"He coulda woke you up," Joel points out.

"Just to be tired in the morning when we had to get the kids moving," Lenny counters.

"I do not miss those days of having to herd children around," Abe agrees. "Exhausting creatures."

"Midge and I are sitting right here," Noah reminds him.

"And you're both over twenty-five, thank god," Abe groans.

Moishe laughs. "Well, I think it's wonderful that you kids are having a good time."

"It's been great, it's like a second honeymoon," Midge smiles, shifting closer to cuddle in against Lenny.

Joel just about gags.

Astrid gasps. "Are you two thinking of having another little one?"

"We're so busy," Midge laments. "And four is already a ton to handle."

"Never say never, though," Lenny shrugs.

"Please say never," Joel mutters.

"We'll see how things shake out in the next year or so," Midge shrugs. "Probably not, but..."

"Still trying for that boy, Lenny?" Joel comments, looking smug.

"Gender is a myth," Lenny says.

"And you'd know, wearin' all those dresses in the navy," Joel snaps back.

"And my ass looked spectacular," Lenny clips back.

"Which is saying something, because your ass is flat as a pancake," Midge teases him.

Lenny smirks, lifting an eyebrow. "You like my ass."

Rose huffs out a breath. "Honestly, you two. We are in public."

"Makes it more fun," Lenny grins.

"And nauseating," Joel grumbles.

Midge smiles and disentangles herself from Lenny when the food arrives. She eats some, and shares bites of her food with Lenny, feeding him from her own fork. She catches Joel's very green face watching, and pretends not to notice.

Eventually, Lenny gets up to get another drink, and Noah leans in to talk to Midge.

"The two of you are laying it on a little thick tonight, don't you think?" Noah asks quietly.

Midge leans in as well, keeping her voice low. "Joel called me a junkie's whore. Lenny's pissed."

Noah freezes. blinking rapidly as he looks from his sister to Joel and then back, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear.

"You know sis, I just think it's so great that you and Lenny are so in love."

Midge does her best not to laugh.

"Love is the best," Noah keeps going, haphazardly. "And I'm so glad you found someone who takes such good care of you."

"She's the one normally taking care of me," Lenny chimes in as he sits back down, setting his drink down to place his hand on Midge's thigh again, his thumb gently caressing just above her knee. "She's Superwoman."

Midge smiles slowly and rests her head on his shoulder, gazing up at him. "Wanna dance?"

Lenny nods, kissing her temple.

She settles her head on his shoulder again as they dance, closing her eyes. "I know we're doing this to make Joel vomit, but the flirting is nice."

"I'm having fun," Lenny tells her. "Beyond pissing off your ex, I just enjoy showering you with attention."

Midge smiles and holds onto him tighter. "I love you, Mr. Weissman."

He grins, his lips pressing to her temple. "I love you, too, Mrs. Bruce."

#fic #au #tmmm #Midge/Lenny #Midge x Lenny

[wifebread]

Obsessed | Pt.8

Pairing: Stalker!Min Yoongi x Original female character

Tags: Forced relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulations, Mentions of cruelty, Mentions of deaths, Mentions of drugs, Murders, Original female character,  Out of character, Stalking, Unhealthy relationships, Violence.

Summary: She wasn't afraid of this man, didn't take threats seriously, blaming everything on the fact that it was just to attract attention. However, she did’t know what he was capable of.

word count: 2,6k

I do not condone the actions described in the story, this is all fiction and does not relate to the real members of the BTS in any way. If you are uncomfortable with tags, please do not read!! Or read at your own risk.

a/n: Thanks to the wonderful author who allowed me to translate this work! Please keep in mind that English is not my native language, so if you notice any mistakes, point them out to me! I can also edit the chapter after I publish it, so don't be surprised if you see some strange moments (it means I haven't corrected them yet). Thank you.

source: https://ficbook.net/readfic/12255891

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 ,Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8

"Very unconvincing"

Percy is sitting on her bed in a butterfly pose and looking at Suga, who’s settled in a chair at her desk and calmly drank tea with brownies.

The girl is immersed in her thoughts, almost not hearing what Suga sometimes says.

She is thinking about how she should continue to act. Is it worth playing the role of an obedient girl and fulfilling all his requests? Or maybe she needs to try to get out of the clutches of the watcher.

There are many plans in her head with which Percy can get rid of him, but in each of them there is a gap that will cost her freedom.

“What are you thinking about?” without even turning to Song, the guy asked, finishing his tea.

“Me?” Percy asked softly, blinking rapidly.

Suga froze for a moment and looked up from the treats, turning to the girl.

Now she was thinking about how handsome the guy who was sitting in the room with her was. For a couple of moments, she forgets what Suga did to her friend and how he threatened. His dark brown eyes, it was almost impossible to see the pupil. The hair that was slightly below the eyes was disheveled.

“Do you think there is someone in the room besides us and I'm asking him a question?” Suga asked menacingly enough, which made Percy twitch slightly. Bags are visible under his eyes, apparently due to numerous sleepless nights.

“No," Song said, swallowing. The girl was stressed by such a rapid change of mood. “Just a habit," Percy added with a shrug.

Suga chuckled, returning to the brownies again.

“But still, what are you thinking about?”           

"I don't have anything interesting on my mind," Percy said, sighing.

“Well, I'm not sure," Suga grinned, turning back to the girl. "Your head is the only place I can't invade to read it."  Percy tensed, her brows drawn together. “Aren't you thinking about an escape plan?”  putting a spoon with a piece of cake in his mouth, he asked.

“No," Percy replied a little more quietly, clutching the blanket in her hands. “I'm just... worried about my friend.”  Suga raised one eyebrow, squinting. “She changed her mind about staying with us and now lives in a hotel. I'm afraid something might happen to her.”

"Very unconvincing," the guy said, chuckling.

Suga got up from the chair and came close to the girl who was still sitting on the bed. Bending down, he placed his hands on either side of Percy's legs. Their faces were at a critically close distance for Song, from which she moved back a little, but the guy just grunted and approached again.

“If you decide to run, I'll find you," Percy felt the guy's hot breath on her lips. “No matter how many times you try to escape, I will find you. Until you get tired of running. You'll realize it's pointless.”

Percy stared into his eyes as if mesmerized, afraid to even blink. Suga, chuckling, ran his nose over Song's cheek, forcing her to inhale sharply. He was pleased with the girl's reaction, so he pulled away and straightened up.

"Don't upset me, darling.”

“I wasn't going to,” the girl tried to sound confident, it turned out well. "I want to sleep," Percy said, after a short silence.

Suga turned over to Song, clasping his hands in a lock. The guy got up from the chair and went to the bed. He lay down next to Percy and patted the bed with his hand, as if inviting to sit next to him. Song looked in surprise.

"Parents can come into the room," Percy began, twisting her fingers. “If they see that you ...” the girl hinted that it was time for the guy to leave.

“Don't be afraid, I'll leave as soon as the dawn breaks.”

Suga was still lying on the bed, glaring at the girl. Percy hoped that he would still leave the room, but the guy has other plans.

Shielding her eyes and exhaling, the girl slowly lay down next to Suga, turning her face to the window. As soon as she closed her eyes, the guy's arms wrapped around her waist, pressing her to him.

Percy lay on the bed and stared out the window, fighting the urge to slap the guy's hands. She doesn’t want to see or hear him. But he persistently invades her personal space and thoughts.

When Percy closed her eyes, hoping to fall asleep as soon as possible, she heard the guy begin to hum some kind of lullaby. The girl involuntarily smiled, because that was how her mother used to put her to bed. It's just a pity that now the woman didn’t spend as much time with the child as she would like. The girl covered Suga's hand with her own, squeezing lightly. At that moment, Percy felt peaceful and calm, which is why she began to fall asleep.

When Song fell asleep and began to snore softly, the guy stopped humming a song and began to watch the sleeping girl. He liked this arrangement, so he decided not to "quarter" Jin for not handing Percy a note and almost blurt out too much.

Suga inhaled the scent of Song's hair, closing his eyes for a moment. The girl's skin is soft, smooth, and he wants to stroke it but restrains himself so as not to wake Percy.

Suga will wait until Percy accepts him and stops being afraid. Even if it takes a long time, he is ready.

No matter how much he would like to say that he is ready to let go of Song and that her feelings are more important to him — he can't, he doesn't want to. Suga is afraid that he will be left alone again, without a reason to exist.

He hadn’t received love and support since childhood, so he always looked for it in other people, hoping that they would understand and accept him, ignoring his shortcomings. Already in adolescence Suga realized that those around him are hypocritical and duplicitous people who cannot be relied on, because they can betray or abandon you.

He doesn't fully trust even the guys who have been with him for more than 5 years. The company that pulled Percy out of the party and Jin, who literally took the girl out of the hands of death.

"I'll lose my mind without you," Suga whispers, nuzzling the girl's hair again.

***       

As promised, he went home as soon as the dawn broke. Percy didn't even realize right away that the guy had left her room.

The girl was glad that she didn't have to explain to her parents what kind of guy was sleeping in the same bed with her.

"Well, everything went better than it could have been," Percy thought with a sigh of relief.

The girl got out of bed and went to the closet to get her clothes and change.

“Are you awake?” the girl's mother asked, silently entering the room, which caused Percy to jerk and drop her T-shirt. “Well done, daughter. Come down to breakfast.” and the woman left.

Percy nodded, then picked up her T-shirt from the floor and dusted it off, put it on.

After removing the packages of treats from the desktop and wiping it, the girl snapped her fingers and left the room, heading to the kitchen.

“Wow," her father said in surprise. “It's going to snow today; Percy is finally up for breakfast.”  the man laughed, and the girl forced a smile.

In fact, she had deliberately set the alarm for this time to catch her father. Usually a man goes to work early, so when Song wakes up, there is no one in the house. It rarely happens that a girl gets up at the same time as her parents.

“Bon appetit," Percy said, pulling her breakfast plate toward her. The man nodded, finishing his omelet and enthusiastically reading something on his phone.

“Dad," Percy began, after a short silence, drawing the man's attention. “Maybe I can stay at my grandmother for the rest of the summer?” picking at the omelet with a fork, the girl asked. For a while there was silence in the room. Both father and mother were greatly surprised. They looked at each other.

“Are you really my daughter?” squinting, the man asked.

“What do you mean?”  Percy asked, frowning.

“You haven't even been visiting your grandmother with us for several months, and now you want to live with her.”  Percy's father approached her, looking straight into her eyes. “Tell me honestly, did you do something?”

“What? No," the girl replied, laughing. “I just thought it was wrong to behave like this and refuse to go to my grandmother.”  Looking down at her breakfast, Percy continued. “She's my only, my beloved. And I am her granddaughter, whom grandma also loves. I'll help her with the housework, with cleaning, with cooking.”

Parents began to look at each other in surprise, each thought about their own. The father was obviously glad that his daughter wanted to spend more time with her grandmother.

"Well, then you'll need to buy you another SIM card," my father said softly, smiling contentedly. “You know well, our reception is down there.”

"All right," the girl replied, nodding. “I'm going to pack my stuff.”

 Just as Percy was about to get up from her seat, her father stopped her, gently taking her hand.

"Wait, little owl," my father said. The man began to take something out of his pocket with his free hand. "I'll give you a card," he continued, taking the card out of his wallet. “Take yourself a SIM card with unlimited Internet, stroll around the mall, and today I allow you to go alone to the restaurant, where we usually go.”

“Dad,” Percy was speechless. Previously, she was allowed only one thing to buy, the one that they would like, and now this is happening. All she had to do was only being more attentive and make her parents happy. Even if it's a trip to her grandmother, who is not sweet little old lady at all. “Don't worry, I just need a SIM card.”

“Sunshine, you really should take a break and go shopping.” putting her hand on her daughter's shoulder, the mother said, smiling.

“Mom's right," the man said, getting up from the table. “Considering what happened to your friend recently, a rest wouldn't hurt.”  Percy nodded hesitantly, picking up the card. “We’re going to work,” the father continued, removing the plate from the table. “Get dressed, we'll give you a lift.”

Percy, smiling, galloped into the room without finishing her breakfast.

Getting ready in a hurry, the girl went outside, where her parents were already waiting for her in the car.

“Take everything that catches your eye,” said her father, looking at his daughter from the car window. Percy's parents have already brought him to the mall. “There is no limit, as usual. Just don't pierce your nose and dye your hair green, okay?”  The girl nodded, laughing. There was a moment of silence. The father lowered his gaze, closing his eyes and biting his lip. “I know that I am strict with you, I often lose my temper and almost never spend time with you.” the girl did not expect that her father would ever start such a conversation. “But I'm a man, the main earner of the family, so…”

"I know, Dad," the girl said, smiling. Percy, of course, often misses her parents. They can give her money or buy something, but no things and financial resources will replace mom and dad and their warmth and care. “I’m not a kid anymore and I understand how difficult it is to work nowadays. Thank you," Percy added, kissing her father on the cheek.

"Just know," the man began with a sigh. “No matter how strict and angry I am, you are my daughter and I do everything for you. And Mom as well.” The girl nodded, still smiling.

The father said goodbye to his daughter and left for work, and Percy watched him for a couple more seconds.

Having entered the shopping center, Song, first of all, began to look for a cellular communication salon.

There were no problems with the SIM card. The man who was dealing with the girl's question quickly arranged and explained everything.

“I wish you had your phone with you,” the man scratched his eyebrow, when the payment went through. “So you would immediately check if everything is in ok with the SIM card.”

“If something goes wrong, I will come to you and solve the problem. Goodbye," Song said, leaving the cellular.

Right, the girl decided to play it safe, so she didn't take her smartphone with her. Since Percy has decided to lie low, then at least something needs to be done so that he does not find out about Percy's intentions.

After that, the girl decided to go to a couple of stores to buy clothes and some kind of gift for grandmother also. You can’t just show up empty-handed, especially if a person’s always waiting for something.

Percy walked around the mall until the evening. The girl bought new pajamas, a pair of T-shirts, a blouse, a skirt and shorts. She also walked around the supermarket and took things that she might need at her grandmother’s. The woman lives far outside the city; hence, the situation with shops there is difficult.

***

“I called mother and told that tomorrow morning we’ll bring you.” said the man, sitting with his daughter on the sofa in the living room. “Have you packed your suitcase yet?”

“Almost, just a brush and a towel to put down, but that’s in the morning.”

“Good job. Now go to bed, I'll wake you up early.” said the father, kissing his daughter on the top of the head. “Good night.”

“Good night," the girl replied, and then went to her room.

Closing the door behind her, the girl, making sure that no one was listening, slipped into the bathroom, where the second phone was hidden.

Taking out a wallet with a SIM card from her pocket, Percy, sitting on the floor, began to put it in an old phone.

“At least for a while it will roll,” Percy thought, pursing her lips.

The girl, having finished the "procedure", returned to the room and hid the phone in her suitcase.

Her thoughts kept her awake. A lot of options were running through her head about what would happen to her if he found out about the escape and snapped. He will search the whole city, then take up the houses outside it, continue the search in another one. He would tie her up and down; lock hundreds of locks to keep her with him.  And what scares Percy the most is that the plan she's been working so hard to come up with will fail.

Percy didn't tell her friends about her move to her grandmother. She thought it might turn out badly. Both for them and for her. If Suga found out about what was in Shin's note, then it won't be difficult to find out from friends where she is either.

And yet, the girl managed to fall asleep. Thoughts slowly receded and with them the voices that were chattering at the top of their voices that nothing would work.

"This is my life," Percy thought, falling asleep. "He won't be in control of it. If he feels like a god, thinks that I’m in his power – plan "B" will not take long to wait"

to be continued...

#yandere bts #yandere youngi #yoongi x reader #yandere x reader #bts x reader #stalker yoongi #yandere kpop #bts yandere #btsyandere #yandere bangtan #kpop yandere #yandere #yandere au #bts #bts fanfic

[parsimonius]

Happy New Year!! I have two gifts. 1) Chapter 4 of “How to be an Older Sibling; Memoir written by Richard (Dick) Grayson-Wayne” has been published!!! And 2) a short preview of a story that one day I’ll maybeeee post on fairytail!!

Here’s some teasers for my FairyTail ideas:

——-

“Did you know?” She growls, blinking her eyes rapidly to keep the tears at bay. She leans in, boxing Loke against the door of her bedroom. “Did you know, Loke?”

Loke gulps, looking away awkwardly. She grabs his shirt collar, yanking it tight enough that the fabric wraps around his skin. “Lucy—-”

“Princess.” Lucy growls, leaning until he has to push his head against the door to look down at her. “It’s Princess Lucy. And I command you to tell me. Did you know my Father planned on selling me out like a cheap whore?”

Loke gulps, eyes straying away from her for only a second, but it answers enough. She scoffs, feeling tears start to fall down her face. She wipes at them angrily, dropping her Personal Guard’s shirt, stepping away. “Unbelievable…”

————

“It is…It is fine, Leo.” She whispers, holding her biceps with her hands. “Cancer. My father wishes to marry me off to another man I have not met. If…What would you do? Would you go through with it?”

Cancer hums, drying Loke’s hair with a different towel. Loke shakes his head like a stray dog, and Lucy glares as stray water splashes on her.

“I assume it would depend on the man himself, and of course, if you are ready to get married,” He says softly as he begins to snip at the orange hair of Loke. “Most fathers want the best for their daughters, but that can not be said the same for everyone.”

“Yeah,” She whispers, biting her lip in thought. “I…I do not believe this man is good. All I have heard is that he has everyone do his work for him, that he does not care for his…people. I do not…I do not wish to marry him, but….”

Cancer nods along, pointing his scissors at her. Loke tenses at the perceived threat, and Lucy rolls her eyes at his dramatics. “I believe it is as simple as that then. Marriage is for love, after all. If you do not love the man, nor wish to know him, then there is no point in entertaining this proposal.”

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

And here’s a teaser of Chap4!:

Tim and him were way closer now, so perhaps that’s why he finds out before the rest of the family.

Stephanie Brown. Or well, he doesn’t know that right away. All he knows is that one day Tim comes home with a flushed face, grumbling about a girl in purple trying to be a vigilante. Dick, of course, is confused, and tries to pry out as much information on this new player that he can.

“Some girl,” Tim mumbles over toast that night, wincing when Dick moves away dark hair to see a bruise beginning to form on the teen’s chin. “She’s wearing a get-up in all purple. I saw her following Bruce and I, and I thought she was a creep. I got her hood off, but she got me good with a brick.”

“Huh.” Dick hums, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. “So it’s creepy when she does it, but when you follow Bruce it’s fine….”

#batman #bruce wayne #jason todd #red hood #batfam #damian wayne #dick grayson #stephanie brown #tim drake #cassandra cain #duke thomas #fanfic #my fics #fics #fic ideas #natsu fairy tail #natsu dragneel #natsu x lucy #lucy fairy tail #lucy heartfilia #fairytail fic ideas #what do we think

[piracytheorist]

Macabre Theme and Variations (6/15)

Fandom: Spy x Family Word count: 6.8k for this chapter | 22.5k so far | 65k in total Rating: T Warnings: Non-permanent character deaths, graphic violence

Summary: Twilight wakes up. He works on his mission. He dies. He comes back and does it all over again. Each time a little different. (Inspired by the film Happy Death Day)

AO3 Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

Warnings for this chapter: mentions of suicide, very vague mentions of domestic abuse, and slightly graphic death

~

Chapter 6: Scherzando

scherzando = in a playful manner

~

Borf!

Loid wakes with a gasp. He jumps up, trips over the bed covers, stands back up, runs to the door past Bond and blasts Anya's door open. He watches, his chest tight.

It feels like an eternity until he spots Anya's torso rise and fall with her breathing.

A breath heavy as lead leaves his lungs and he stumbles further into her room. He collapses on his knees next to her bed as a trembling hand reaches to softly rest on her belly.

She's sleeping with her mouth open, spit drooling down its corner. She mumbles something quiet in her sleep and her hand absent-mindedly pats the huge penguin plush next to her.

He realizes his other arm is wrapped tight around his chest, as he suddenly feels someone's gaze on him. He turns his eyes to the door and sees Yor looking at him.

“Loid?” she whispers. “What happened?”

He blinks a few times. He retrieves his hand and sits down, his back against Anya's bed. “Just a nightmare. I'm okay now.”

She hesitates for a few seconds, but then steps inside, getting down on one knee.

He's still breathing fast. The voice telling him to get it under control has grown lower.

“Would you like me to stay?” she asks.

He blinks rapidly, unable to turn his eyes to her. He finally closes them, nodding as he swallows hard.

He feels her quietly sit next to him. He leans a little forward himself, bringing his knees closer to his chest as he focuses on the breathing sounds. Anya's is slow and deep with a small hint of a snore, and Yor's is still heavy from sleep, but quiet and comforting.

They're safe. Anya is still here, and Yor isn't breaking down.

He is still in one piece, physically and emotionally... well, almost, for that last one.

He opens his eyes, looking back at Anya.

Pink. Pink hair. Not red. Eyes moving under her eyelids as she dreams.

He turns to Yor.

A cautious but soft smile on her lips. No devastation.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Her smile spreads, but his stomach feels heavier.

A different kind of despair sets in him as he assesses the situation – and himself.

She places a soft hand on his knee and he has to fight himself, more than Twilight would consider acceptable, to not lean towards her.

So this is what routine feels like. When he doesn't have to worry about protecting the peace, about new missions, about staying vigilant for new and unpredictable dangers.

In that routine he's noticing all the soft looks and caring gestures.

In the security of a day without unknown threats, he realizes how those looks and gestures are growing on him.

When he knows the worst thing to happen this morning is the school bus taking five times to start up, he finds himself wanting to stay here and hold Yor's hand in his.

In it he'd find the understanding his brain is refusing to ignore for the sake of his work.

The understanding of the reason behind what he did at the end of the previous day.

His first thought, the very instinct that led him to pick up a gun and shoot himself was not to reset the day. It was the outmost positive outcome, of course, but resetting was only in the back of his mind right then.

Maybe his subconscious had driven his actions after having figured everything out.

First, that if he didn't die, the day wouldn't reset, and all those children would stay gravely injured and dead. So he should do it.

Second, the uncalculated risk, that there was no guarantee that the day would reset if he died by any other means than the bomb or any other action by the killer himself. So he should take a moment to think before acting.

And third, the realization that he had completely shut down at the sight of an unmoving Anya covered in blood.

And for that, the reassurance that he can reset the day by himself in case something goes wrong isn't enough to placate the spy instinct screaming at him.

You're not her father! You cannot care for her like that! She doesn't even deserve the likes of you!

It was so easy, too. To pick up a gun and take his own life. He was painfully trained into avoiding any damage to himself unless he was compromised beyond salvation.

Here he is now, compromised in an entirely unexpected way. No wonder it was that easy.

He looks at Anya, and within his meltdown suddenly a thought clicks.

Is that the same with his killer? If he's received similar training, what despairing situation would lead him into such a suicidal revenge mission?

Could the loss of a child be it?

You're not her father...

After he comforts Yor's worries about him, he pretends to go to bed, but instead picks up his transmission device and communicates with his headquarters. He asks them for information on any former spy of his caliber who happened to grow attached to a child, particularly one that later died.

The cover identities of other spies are none of his business unless it's a joint mission, but now he can't help wondering how often WISE orders its spies to create identities that require them to build a family.

Did his killer also have to blend in as a family man?

And if yes... what would prevent Twilight from going down the same path, if something happened?

He frowns as he puts his equipment away. His goal is to ensure nothing happens in the first place.

He works out as he waits for the time Anya and Yor would wake up, and then starts preparing breakfast for them. At 06:45 exact he stands outside Anya's door, waiting. When he hears movement he immediately slips inside.

“Papa?” she says, rubbing the last of sleep from her eyes. “What's going on?”

He kneels down in front of her. “Anya, would you like to skip school today?”

Her eyes widen. “But—but the play is today!”

“You'll go to the play. And you'll do great.” A smile blooms on his face, and he can barely believe how wide and how genuine it is.

“But what would you say to an outing day?”

“An ooting!”

“I can tell the school you're not feeling well. They'll believe me, because I'm a doctor. I'll tell them that you'll probably be okay by this evening for the play.”

“I won't get any Tonitruses?”

He shakes his head, and her smile widens in an almost comical way.

I'll have to fabricate blood test results to explain her absence. I'll “suspect” she has a bug, so she'll need to stay off school and go get tested, which will show it's nothing contagious, so once she feels better she'll be clear for the play. Evidence that won't be necessary if they don't remember it tomorrow to ask me about it.

But if I actually manage to not die today, I'll need to cover up my bases.

Anya's smile drops suddenly, her face freezing.

His own smile fades in worry. “What is it?” he asks.

“Uh—Are you okay, Papa? Why are you taking me off school?”

“I've been pressuring you too much lately with homework. I think you deserve a day off.”

“And will you be okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“With—with the work, I mean! Do you not work today?”

“It's a day off for me too.”

She blinks at him, confusion starting to mix with relief.

“It's alright, you don't have to worry about anything.”

You really don't. Today is your day.

Just in time, he hears Yor's door open.

Now, then. Do I just tell Yor I'm letting Anya play hooky, or come up with an excuse? I don't like lying to her...

Anya runs out into the hall, shouting, “Mama! Papa will let me play hooky today!”

No! I mean, yes, but...

Teeth clenched and a blush on his face, he steps out too to face a confused Yor.

“Is that alright?” she asks. “Isn't today important?”

“I'll still go to the play! But this morning I'm resting and having fun!”

Yor keeps looking at him, understanding seeping into her features. “She won't get into trouble, right?”

He shakes his head. “I'll have everything sorted. She deserves a break and some fun.”

“Well then,” she says, leaning down to Anya, “one day won't hurt. I hope it's fun!”

As they eat breakfast he can't help trying to put meanings behind the way Yor smiles at the two of them.

Does she think that he felt so upset by his “nightmare”, that he was desperate for some fun time with his daughter, enough to decide a day off school was an acceptable sacrifice?

And how does that influence her impression of him?

And why does it matter to him? If today is reset anyway...

“Papa! Anya wants ice cream today!”

“Finish your breakfast, first, and I'll let you have anything you want.”

She giggles, starting to list all the candy she'll eat today.

Yor's eyes widen in surprise. She most definitely doesn't peg him as someone who'd allow his child to eat only candy for the entire day.

He calls Eden to inform them of Anya's absence as she and Yor get dressed. Yor leaves first, since Anya takes her sweet time filling her backpack with things and toys she definitely won't need on their outing and will forget about.

He hears the school bus at the stop outside their building, picking up the students from their neighborhood.

One, two, three, four, five. And start!

Anya joins him in the window to look at the bus, and he nearly screams at her to take cover.

The routine may be starting to grow on him in such a comforting way that his instructors would be seething, but there's still that spy instinct to maintain the cover and the lie as much as possible, even if no-one remembers that tomorrow.

He looks at her, and she's got her typical wide-eyed shocked look on her face.

He suppresses a sigh. Maybe today he'll get the chance to understand her a little better.

First stop, an ice cream shop. Anya gets two scoops of chocolate, with sprinkled peanuts, of course.

“Isn't that too little?” He had expected her to get a much bigger one.

She gives him a sly smile. “It's only Anya's first ice cream for today.”

Of course it is. He sighs with a smile back.

Next stop, the park. At first he's content with watching Anya and Bond play, but a little later he finds himself joining them. They throw the frisbee for Bond, then when that's done, Anya climbs on Bond's back and she rides him as Loid pretends to chase them, and then they switch roles, with Anya and Bond pretending to chase him.

With every giggle and laugh from her, the images of yesterday start fading, feeling like a faraway nightmare. One he may never forget, but can at least dismiss as not real.

They're lying down on a picnic blanket and Anya raises her feet, pretending to walk on the sky.

He looks at her and his chest feels full. The happiness this child is glowing with, the innocence with which she acted like she was hunted down by an evil boss, the simple way an ice cream with peanuts sprinkled on top can make her smile so wide... this is what he's been fighting for.

But for the first time, he starts thinking it’s because it’s Anya that he wants to keep making her smile like that.

Next stop, a toy shop. Anya runs around shouting, and for the first time since he adopted her, Loid couldn't care less about how everyone is looking at her. She is loud. But children are loud.

She walks to him and grabs his hand, dragging him to an exhibit of a model train.

“Can we build a train station at home?” she asks.

“Sure, we can. How long do you want the train tracks to be?”

He still holds her hand. By now she's gotten better at not wandering too far away, and he's prepared to protect her from anyone who might want to take her. He doesn't need to keep holding her hand; yet he does, grasping on the sense of comfort it's giving him.

His shoulders slouch forward as his mind wanders off to his killer. If he's experienced the loss of a child, could he have changed his plan last time in order to target Anya instead, after seeing how proud Loid must have looked during the play?

Anya grows a little serious. “Papa,” she starts. “Why are you doing this today?”

“Aren't you having fun?” he asks, genuinely.

“I am! It's so fun! But...”

He squeezes her hand a little. “You don't have to worry. I just thought you could relax a little on your big day.”

Her smile comes back at the thought of the play.

“Now, should we get this train?”

Next stop, another ice cream. That's definitely spoiling her. He can't find it in himself to care.

They sit on a bench facing the river. Anya's legs swing to and fro as she takes careful bites of her cone so that her ice cream won't spill on her hands. She's not very successful. Bond is sitting on the ground next to her, looking at her with big, pleading eyes. Anya turns to look at Loid, who shakes his head at her. While the strawberry ice cream would probably be safe, Anya had asked for chocolate sprinkles, immediately making her treat incompatible with the dog's stomach.

“Papa,” she says, lowering her cone. “Is this a dream?”

“What? No, why do you ask?”

“It's a really good day, and I don't want to forget it.”

Oh.

He could tell her anything right now. He could soothe her worries with lies, and it wouldn't matter.

And it's maybe because it doesn't matter that some truth comes out of him.

“Well, if it is a dream, it's still a good one, right? You may wake up and not remember it, but it was still fun while it lasted.”

She looks at him, perplexed.

“Good things always come to an end at some point. Things always change, and every small thing can lead you down a different path. But what matters is that you're feeling happy during the good times.”

“Papa... are you ever going to give Anya away?”

He stiffens. At this point, I wish I'll never have to.

He gives her a soft pat on the head. “I will leave at some point. It can't be helped. I just...” The force of his honesty nearly brings tears to his eyes. “I just hope that will be in a long, long time from now. When we're old, very old. You may have kids of your own then. You'll watch them grow and... You will know, then.”

That your one hope will be that you won't see them die earlier than you.

Not like yesterday, with me...

The unshed tears in her eyes finally break his defenses. She leans her head on his side and wraps her free arm around his back. He slowly and gently returns the gesture, closing his eyes before his own tears starts running.

She's hugging him; in a different way than she hugs Yor, probably used to how reserved he is when it comes to physical touch. When was the last time he actually allowed himself to feel the comfort of a hug, to really let it touch his soul?

For most people, what they hope isn't necessarily what they're likely to get. For a spy like him, the chances of those hopes becoming true are significantly smaller.

He wasn't supposed to hope for anything personal. And even though right now his most powerful wish is for Anya to be happy and safe no matter what, he knows that part of that wish includes him being a reason for her happiness and safety. Not just as a protector of peace, but as her father as well.

Can't hope be a motivating factor? If he hopes to stay as her father... can't that motivate him to change, so he can deserve her as his daughter? As his family?

Anya pulls away a little, sniffling, and offers him her half-eaten cone. “Don't cry, Papa. Do you want my ice cream?”

He contemplates shaking his head, but he decides to take her up on the offer, make her feel that she's helping.

Of course, she has helped him, more than she could ever realize, but that's not something that's easy to tell her. Maybe accepting the ice cream will make it clear in her mind that she is helpful to him. “Are you sure? You seemed to like it a lot.”

“Yup.”

He takes it, carefully biting at the cone. “Thank you.”

“I like you that way,” Anya says.

“What way?”

“Like you are today. I wish you were like that every day.”

“What do you mean? Because I let you skip school?” He opens his mouth to get a lick of the ice cream.

“No. You smile today.”

He freezes, mouth still open, tongue slightly out. He retracts it slowly as his shoulders hunch forward. “I haven't been the most pleasant company, have I?”

“It's okay, Papa. Anya is happy to be here.”

He can't help asking himself what exactly it is that makes her so happy. With how he's been treating her, it's a wonder she hasn't grown into hating his guts. But then, kids at that age have a hard time separating their feelings from their logic. She's too young to realize the bare minimum he provides as a father is not worth all the affection she's been giving him.

Let alone the fact that it's Loid Forger she cares for. She doesn't even know the real him.

Yet, he was the one who took her out of the orphanage. He knows he hasn't been a model father, but he doesn't doubt himself enough to think that he's been worse than that place. Maybe that's why she cares for him. Does she see him as her hero, and therefore cannot see his flaws for what they are?

“Remember the first day, when I adopted you?”

Her wide smile is enough of an answer. It should be obvious that she'd never forget that day.

“I told you to pretend you've always been my daughter. I told you to lie to others. Didn't you ever wonder why I asked you to do that?”

Anya looks lost. She doesn't seem to have an actual answer.

That was out of left field. She most likely repeated your lie because it helped her pretend that you had indeed always been her father, that she had always had you, instead of moving between different families and orphanages for as long as her young mind would remember. It was her way to fake it till she made it.

He sighs, telling himself to stop making assumptions already. Anya's unpredictable enough that probably none of those assumptions stand true. “I'm not angry or anything. I just wonder why you agreed to it immediately and never asked for a reason.”

She doesn't say anything, and he doesn't pressure her.

“Can we go home? I'm tired now,” she says.

He offers to carry her on the way back; she says no when she sees that his one hand will be occupied with Bond's leash while the other with the shopping bag from the toy shop, but he insists.

She falls asleep within minutes of resting her head on his shoulder. She drools on his suit jacket, and once again he can't bring himself to care.

He spots a fellow spy coming his way. The man tips his head just so, then turns at the pedestrian lines next to them.

“Awoo,” he says, dropping a crumpled up chocolate bar wrapper on the ground before he crosses the street.

Cipher W.

Loid pretends to tsk at him, as he maneuvers Bond's leash into his other hand and leans down to pick up the wrapper.

“Vandals,” he says to a woman next to him who was just about to pick it up herself. He reaches first and grabs it.

This was risky, but calculated. The next trash can is far enough away that no-one will notice Loid not throwing the wrapper in it.

What they didn't calculate was the possibility of him looking suspicious by insisting on picking it up when he's holding a sleeping child, a dog's leash and a big shopping bag instead of allowing the woman, both of whose hands were free, to do it after she'd offered. But that's on him; he can't blame HQ for their chosen way of communication.

If this day resets, it won’t matter, but still.

Back home he puts Anya in bed, and as he watches her sleep peacefully he realizes that today has given him a new need for stopping the time loop.

He now wishes Anya could actually remember this day.

He sighs, going to his bedroom to study the delivered report.

Three suspects.

Agent Pulsar, specialty: negotiations. Infiltrated an elementary school as a teacher. MIA following a deadly terrorist bombing at the school he worked at. Presumed dead. A rank.

Agent Dubhe, specialty: foreign languages. MIA following her last blood test that showed she was pregnant. No info on child or its father. Presumed dangerous. S rank.

Agent Pollux, specialty: disguises. Married a woman with a child to extract information from her brother. Was compromised and committed suicide. Confirmed dead. SS+ rank.

Twilight looks at the last part again, making sure he deciphered it correctly.

For it to be Pulsar, he'd have to have an affinity for the dramatic to go out the same way that killed the child – or children – he cared about and that WISE considers the possible cause of his death. An A rank is both too high and not high enough for such dramatics, and too low to defeat Twilight multiple times.

Dubhe is an unlikely suspect. If something happened to her child, she's ranked high enough to find out that WISE knew nothing about her or her child's whereabouts and is therefore not guilty. Even if her child died because of an enemy organization and she went down a revenge spree, she'd first target the guilty party before moving to WISE, and they would have heard something about it.

Pollux seems the most likely fit, despite the lack of mention of a deceased child. After all, the parts 'specialty: disguises' and 'SS+ rank' don't seem to fit well with the 'confirmed dead' part.

However, Twilight is perplexed by the thought that he doesn't recognize the code name. An SS+ rank that he hasn't heard of before? Those are scarce enough for most WISE spies – especially a fellow SS+ rank like him – to at least hear about at some point.

He looks at the clock; it's twenty past one in the afternoon, and it's only then he realizes he completely forgot his scheduled meeting with Franky.

He forgot?

He sighs, rubbing at his forehead. So much for an SS+ rank.

He sends a message to WISE for more info on Pollux and leaves his room.

Anya is standing next to her door, a bright look on her face.

“You're up. Did you sleep well?”

“Can we build the train tracks?” she asks back with a smile.

He sits down with her, joining her in setting up the tracks. Anya has them go around the coffee table, then move out into the hall and reach just at the entrance of her room, then come back.

That's a long railway. Did he underestimate how much it cost?

It takes a lot of warnings from Loid to Bond to not step on the tracks, but he finds an odd comfort in watching Anya put the pieces together and setting right the ones she fails to connect correctly.

He sits down on the floor, elbow resting on his knee and chin resting on his hand as he watches her play. She sets the train on, looking at it with wide eyes and an O-shaped mouth. After the train makes two full loops she places her feet on the sides of the rail, like they're a tunnel the train goes through, she experiments with how many taps from her fingers it can take before it derails – not too many, apparently – and ends up pretending to be a monster attacking it and the rails, even dragging Bond in her play.

It would be so easy to stay here and just watch her. Did Pulsar watch his students play like that? Did Dubhe buy such toys for her child – assuming she had a safe pregnancy and delivery?

And Pollux? Had he grown attached to the family he'd infiltrated, enough to put his mission on hold to simply watch his stepchild play?

Was this how he was compromised?

“Papa, I'm hungry!” Anya exclaims suddenly.

He smiles, not having moved from his spot. “What would you like to eat?”

Her first answer is, of course, more sweets, but she agrees on hamburger steak after Loid points out that Yor will need an actual meal after her hard day at work.

Once Yor comes back and they have lunch, he excuses himself to work.

His real work.

The Handler looks unusually thoughtful when he enters the safe house. She looks up from a file to him. “What brought this up, Agent Twilight?”

“An unexpected suspicion. What do you have on Pollux?”

She closes the file, her hand holding it noticeably hard. “He was confirmed dead seven years ago. I need to know your reasons behind digging up information about him.”

“Well, for starters, the fact that he was part of WISE when I joined, one of the highest ranked members to be exact, yet I've never heard about him.”

“His matters were none of your concern back then. And there was no reason to grant him posthumous fame.”

“Why him in particular?”

Her hand holding the file tightens. “Because it would be more of a cautionary tale than anything else. That's why I need to know why you want to know about him.”

“Why, Handler. Are you scared I might go down the same path?”

“Is there any guarantee you won't?”

There's a sudden darkness in her eyes, and it almost sends a shiver down his spine. She was strong enough to overcome the loss of a child, after all. Stronger than Pollux... and him.

“I think Pollux is alive and is trying to kill me,” he says.

“Impossible. He was confirmed dead beyond doubt.”

“Do you really believe that? Don't you doubt for a second that an SS+ rank spy with specialty in disguises couldn't trick you?”

“Why would he stand idle for seven years?”

“Because he was waiting for his perfect target, the one to give him the most dramatic show of revenge. Me.” He sighs. “If it even is him. That's why I need to know more. If it is him, I need to know how he works.”

The Handler closes her eyes for a moment, then drops the file on her desk and leans forward on her chair, resting her chin on her fists. “If Pollux is really alive and after you, then I hate to say it, but your best option is to run and hope he won't catch you.”

He pauses. “What?”

“There's another reason why we don't tell our agents about him... and it's because there's barely any records on him left. All we have is anecdotes from what we remember of him. And all suggest he was unstoppable.”

He takes the file, flipping through it as he hears the Handler speak.

“Pollux was commissioned with infiltrating an elite extremist group. He took the name Casey Feint and decided to approach the group through a high-ranked member's sister, Diana Dittmar. She was a young widow, with a son who was eight years old at the time, called Derek. Against our advice, he married her three months later, and about a year after that she took the boy and ran away from him, with the help of her brother's group. The last communication we had with Pollux was a few weeks later, where he reported that his identity had been compromised. Two days later he was found dead in his apartment, having committed suicide by hanging.”

Twilight looks back at her. “That's all this file contains. Why isn't there anything more about him or his past missions?” There were only sketches of him, too; most were quite detailed, but no sign of actual pictures of him.

“Because he destroyed it.”

“What? All of it? How?”

She gives him a look. “Wouldn't you be able to do the same for your records, if you wanted to erase any information we had on you?”

“And you're telling me you didn't think this was suspicious?”

“It was part of the protocol following the discovery of the best agent WISE had at the time.”

“And Diana... she ran away because she discovered him?”

Her eyes point to another file on the desk. He picks it up, reading through police investigation records. Particularly, interviews of Diana and the boy.

The Handler shares a summary of the interviews as he reads through. “A few months into the marriage, Pollux had turned gradually more controlling and paranoid, to the point of abuse. Diana thought she could handle it, and that he was understandably scared of Westalian spies, but after confiding to her brother he convinced her to leave him, helping her run away. Pollux chased her down and found her, revealing his true identity to her. We never got his side of the story, so we have no idea why he did that. After she rejected him, he reported the compromise of his identity, destroyed all records we had of him, then returned to his family apartment and hanged himself.”

“Or that's what he made you think.”

“Are you absolutely certain that it's him?”

He isn't. But if it's Pollux, then Twilight's knowledge of his identity might prove for an effective element of surprise, even if it's small.

“No,” he admits. “Any ideas why he would reveal himself to Diana?”

“Our best possible guess is that he hoped to win her back with honesty. He must have been desperate.”

He's suddenly struck by another uncomfortable similarity to his case; a brother-in-law working for an enemy of WISE. What could possess him to believe Yor would trust him over Yuri, if all the truths came out?

Well, at least he can use his case to probe for any weaknesses. The only problem is, how does he use to his advantage the weaknesses of a man on a suicide mission?

In the transcript, Diana's sentences are short, with big pauses between most. A stutter here, a murmur there, and all Twilight can feel is a sense of terror on her side. At this point Pollux had already been declared dead and she had been informed of that, but even then she seemed to still fear him and his memory. The kid didn't share anything at first. The only records of interviews with him start two years after Pollux's reported death.

“It's quite obvious that living with him was a mentally scarring time for them,” the Handler offers.

And all that because he got too attached to that family? So attached that his feelings blinded him to what was best for them?

“Did he realize that?” he wonders out loud. “Did he see that they saw him as a monster, and lose all will to live?”

“It's a possibility.”

“But he had enough wits about him to destroy all records about him. And if he's been lurking for seven years, waiting for the perfect target and opportunity...”

Choosing Twilight when the latter has assumed the role of a family man. Taking Desmond down with him in order to mess up WISE's plans, potentially leading the two countries back at war.

He suppresses a shiver. How far would things have to go for Twilight to embark on a suicide mission that may eventually cause a war, when it's the prevention of it that's been driving him all this time?

“You think he might have blamed WISE for how he ended up?” Enough to not only turn against them, but also against their very reason for existing.

“If he's still alive and has been planning this all along... he might have. Even the strongest can crack in this line of work.”

“Where are Diana and her son now?”

“They're reported to live in a small town on the northern coast of Ostania. She's still unmarried.”

No surprises there. Losing a spouse only to remarry someone who ended up abusing her would understandably ruin her perception of marriage.

And how would Yor feel, if she found out?

“They haven't reported anything suspicious? Someone getting too close to them for comfort?”

“I can ask for an investigation. But it will take a couple days.”

Time he doesn't have.

Which means he's on his own.

“It won't be necessary, but thank you,” he says, then looks at the file in his hand. “Pollux, huh? And where's Castor?”

The Handler snorts a laugh. “Part of the destroyed files would probably explain why he chose that code name. There's no records of any WISE agent named Castor, either by real or code name.”

That gives him an idea. He wonders how quick Franky can be.

He places the file back on the desk. “Thank you for the briefing today.” He puts his hat back on, tips it at her, and takes his leave.

This evening he allows Anya to wear her prince costume before they leave the house. She's absolutely glowing with pride and happiness on their way to Eden, and he's pleasantly surprised to find out that he doesn't mind the curious smiles from the people who notice them.

This time he's the one to take Anya backstage. He goes in himself, realizing he needs a cleanse of yesterday's images. Today the dressing rooms are only full of happy children. Bumbling, jumpy, excited, living children.

Before he turns to leave, he leans down to whisper to Anya.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What, Papa?”

“I know Damian knows his lines very well, but if he happens to forget one when you have a scene together, don't hesitate to help him.”

Anya had helped Damian every single time, apart from the dreaded third day, which was entirely Twilight's fault. He knows she'll do it even if he doesn't ask her to.

By now he knows he's doing it only because he wants to.

As he walks into the theater hall he gives a slight nod at the by now too familiar usher. Once again she brushes invisible dust off her vest.

Everything in position.

He's already forgotten about that worry by the time he sits down next to Yor.

Bell rings, lights go down, curtain opens, and he doesn't even bother checking the Desmonds' box seats now.

Instead, he catches himself smiling genuinely when Anya makes her heroic entrance, waving her wooden sword around.

He doesn't mind it anymore.

For the first time he's fully engrossed in the play. He still finds it a little silly, but he can't help being overtaken by the children's excitement over it. It may be the fifth time he watches it, but knowing exactly how it goes gives him the chance to simply enjoy it as much as the children do.

Damian notices his parents and freezes. Anya gives Loid a knowing look, then dramatically steps in front of the boy.

“Oh, Sec—Princess, tell me again about that curse!”

Loid breathes out a laugh. Maybe he'd hoped Anya wouldn't have almost called Damian by her chosen nickname for him if she'd been warned about it.

His smile is wide when the play ends and applause erupts.

One single “Whoo!” escapes him, and he almost blushes as he notices Yor giving him a surprised smile. She then turns forward and whoos at Anya as well.

Anya is once again glowing, and his heart feels unfamiliarly light. He accepts it.

The audience takes their leave and at the correct time, the usher “drops” the coffee cups so that the coffee will stain his clothes instead.

Suddenly, there's enough hope in him that he'll make it through today that he starts worrying how he'll get those coffee stains out of his clothes. Yor had said this suit looked good on him when she'd first seen him in it some time ago.

Yor offers to go get Anya as he excuses himself to the bathroom.

Instead of taking that exact way, however, he stays just by the foyer, the path to the designated fire exit clear.

After studying the building's blueprints, and with yesterday's knowledge from the side that the killer came from, there's just three possible ways from which he can appear.

He spots the familiar blue cravat just in time his ordered announcement comes from the intercom.

“Castor Coughlan is requested at the entrance gate. Repeat, Castor Coughlan is requested at the entrance gate.”

The man freezes in his tracks. He looks at Twilight, one single second of shock and hesitation on his face.

I got you, you bastard.

That second is enough for Twilight to turn and run.

Franky works miracles. There wouldn't be that many people registered with the first name Castor in Westalian birth certificates since the start of this century, and Franky would only need look for those that seemed to mysteriously disappear. And even though it was an informant against a formerly SS+ rank spy, Franky found him.

Twilight had suspected that someone with such an audacious personality would do something as brazen as to hide his real name in his code name. Castor, the strong but ultimately mortal warrior, turning into Pollux, his immortal twin brother.

It's this audacity that has followed him through all his years as a spy, it seems; even now.

His eyes dart backwards as Pollux follows after him, fury written all over his face.

Damn, for a man packed with explosives, he's fast.

Twilight pushes the fire exit open and runs out into the almost empty yard.

He gives a tiny whistle and turns around, listening carefully as the snipers prepare their rifles.

He focuses on the door, waiting for it to open and for Pollux to walk right into his trap.

Come at me, come at me...

Too many long moments pass, and the door isn't opening.

It's too late when he hears the whoosh of a silencer. He manages to move enough that the last two bullets miss him, but too slow to avoid the first two cracking his skull open.

He drops on all four, blood dripping from his head down on his sleeves and onto the ground.

More silenced shots are heard, and he can only listen as the snipers are taken down one by one.

Damn it, Twilight. You had to make such a show for it.

Following the announcement using his real name, Pollux must have suspected there was a trap set for him outside. So of course he chose to take cover and shoot him from afar instead.

Twilight coughs weakly. His vision is swimming, but his hearing is still sharp enough to hear the footsteps approaching the door from inside. They don't sound like the loafers Pollux was wearing. They sound like heels. Familiar ones. He manages to raise his head just enough to look at the door.

It bursts open, revealing a breathless Yor. She gasps at the sight of him, then her eyes go straight for the position of the first sniper, then the second...

She's gotten the wrong idea, he realizes as he sees her hand twitch into a claw-like shape and her eyes turn dark. She seems to prepare herself to jump.

He cuts her off with a breathy, “Yor.”

She looks back at him, eyes softening again. She runs to him, hands trembling as she reaches for him. “Loid! Who did this to you?!” She looks back up, immediately spotting the hiding places of two more snipers.

How...?

She tenses again and he says, “Wait. Don't. S—Stay.” His arms collapse but Yor reaches out and holds him in her lap before he drops to the ground.

“Loid?” she says in a tearful voice.

“Stay with me—please...”

“Loid...” Her lips start trembling with quiet sobs.

“I'll... be okay...”

Her sobs are not quiet anymore. He feels her tears drop on the collar of his shirt.

“I... I made the... suit you liked... dirty...”

She fades away from his vision.

BANG!

~

A/N: I know that Anya immediately repeated Loid's lies about their family because she was excited to play spy alongside him. But in my view, I think there’s one more reason, and it’s that part of her truly wanted to act like this was the case because it helped ease her traumas from the lab and from being moved between orphanages and foster families. When Twilight thinks about that, it makes Anya have a self realization too, as deep as her young mind allows, and it makes her tired and seeking comfort.

For clarification, the “BANG” sound at the end of every chapter is the sound of Bond banging his feet on Loid’s door. It indicates the day being reset, as it’s the very first sound Loid hears upon waking up.

#Spy x Family #sxf ff #sxf fanfic #piracytheorist writes #mtav

[darcyfangirlsfrequently]

The Truth - chapter 2: True Conviction

For @penelopeminded and @midnightsdestiel

Summary: Alexei Stanovich is dealt with

Word count: 4917

Can also be read here on Ao3

Emily was drowning in work. They still had yet to close the Sicarius case, she was pulling double duty as Section Chief and Unit Chief, and now there was the additional threat to Luke and Penelope that they were trying to squash as fast as they could. The cherry on top was that they were now severely under-staffed. Because of all this, Emily was more than glad to take a break and answer her phone when an old friend called. 

"Derek Morgan, this is a nice surprise. How're you doing?"

"I'm calling to ask you the same thing. Garica's updated me on a bit of what's going on over there. How are you handling it?" 

"I'm drowning," she confessed. "I mean the cases are bad enough, but now with Luke and Garcia benched–"

"Wait, why's Alvez benched?" 

"She didn't tell you that part? The stalker's threatening him too. I've benched them both for their safety. Anyway, like I was saying, with them both out of commission, we're severely under-staffed, and I've lost my door-kicker. Not that Tara, JJ, and I aren't perfectly strong and capable, but Rossi's… Rossi, and…"

"And having an ex-military Manhunter on your team never hurt?" 

"Exactly. Everyone has skills to bring to the table, and damn am I missing his." 

Morgan considered what she was saying for a moment before asking, "Do you guys need some help?" 

"God, yes," Emily replied, almost laughing. "Why, do you know anyone who'd be willing to give us a hand catching an internet stalker from Russia?" 

"Yeah, you're talking to him." 

Emily gasped. "Derek, no. I could never ask that if you." 

"You're not asking, I'm offering. Savannah put the idea in my head the other day when I mentioned something was happening with Penelope."

"Are you sure?" 

"Prentiss, I wouldn't be offering if I wasn't." 

Emily sighed, relieved. "Okay then. Yeah. Only question is: when can you start?" 

"How does Monday sound?"

"Morgan, it's Friday." 

"I know. See you then."

*** 

"Wait, hold the door!" 

Although it was familiar, Luke couldn't place the voice that had called out to him. Regardless, he reached out with one hand to press the elevator button that kept the door open, his other hand balancing a tray with two cups of coffee from Lunacorn. 

The person who had called out to him entered the elevator, and Luke blinked rapidly in shock. "Morgan? What are you doing here?" 

Morgan stuck out his hand, which Luke accepted and shook. "Looks like I'm here to take your spot this time, temporarily."

Luke laughed. "My, how the tables turn."

"Speaking of," Morgan said. "Aren't you supposed to be benched?" He pointed at the cups of coffee in his hands. 

"Benched? Yes. In lockdown? No. Well, not entirely. That's Penelope. I've been living here the past few weeks, but Emily doesn't think I'm at that large of a risk, so since I have field training and, you know, a gun, I'm allowed to go on coffee runs. Especially when it's to Penelope's favorite place and she needs a pick-me-up."

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "You know her favorite coffee shop?" 

"Even if she hadn't told me it was her favorite, it's called Lunacorn. That just screams Penelope." 

Morgan chuckled. "Yeah, it sure does." He may not be a profiler anymore, and hadn't been for about seven years, but some things were just like riding a bike. One thing that absolutely did not evade Derek Morgan's notice was Alvez's casual use of the name 'Penelope' instead of 'Garcia.' Not that there were any rules against calling your co-workers by their first names, but he had done it three times in a row. Normally, when first names were used, they were thrown about, sparsely mixed in with last names.

The elevator doors opened and Penelope, who had been waiting there, expecting her Newbie and her coffee, gasped at the sight of her Newbie, her coffee, and her best friend in the whole world, her Derek "Chocolate Thunder" Morgan. 

"Oh my god!" She exclaimed. "Are you real, or are you a hallucination induced by a caffeine deficiency?" 

"Penelope, I'm only five minutes late with the coffee," Luke protested. "I told you the line was long."

There it is again, Morgan thought to himself. Penelope. 

"Hush, Luke, I'm not talking to you." She returned her attention to Morgan. "So are you real?" 

"Why don't you hug me and find out?" 

She did, and was pleased to find out that he was, in fact, real. "I missed you," she mumbled into his shoulder. 

Morgan pressed a kiss into her hairline. "I missed you too, Babygirl." 

Luke watched the two friends fondly. Penelope had been so upset and on edge recently–understandably, of course–and it did his heart good to see her so at peace. 

Penelope pulled back from the hug. "Wait, what are you doing here?"

"Well since you and your boy here are benched," Morgan said, pointing at Luke. "Emily needed some help. You know I'll always come back for you."

"Well then, the team's in the round table room, so they're probably waiting for you there. Luke and I are not allowed to be involved, so we'll be hanging out in my Batcave." She turned to the man in question. "Give me my coffee and we can be off." 

"Sorry, what?" Luke said, holding the coffee away from her. "I can't hear you."

She rolled her eyes. "Please give me my coffee?" 

Luke pushed farther. "Please what?"

Penelope sighed and forced a large, cheery smile on her face, even though it was clear she wasn't upset in the slightest. "Please, Luke, will you give me my coffee?" 

Luke handed her her cup. "There you go. Was that so hard?" 

She rolled her eyes again. "You're impossible."

"But you love me."

"Ha! In your dreams, Luke," she called back, walking toward her office. 

"Oh most definitely," he replied, following closely behind her. 

Morgan stood there for a moment, absolutely floored. What the fuck was that? The flirting, her calling him Luke? Not Alvez, not Newbie or anything of the sort, as he'd been told she called him, just Luke. He'd only seen them for about two minutes, and in that time they'd each called each other by their first names four times.

Shaking his head, Morgan made his way up to the round table room, sure he'd get answers from his teammates and friends. 

"I hope you kept my seat," Morgan said upon entering the room. Emily, who had known about this and elected not to tell anyone for the element of surprise, simply smiled, but JJ, Rossi, and Tara were all stunned. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" JJ asked, jumping up to hug him. 

"I'm filling Alvez's spot while he's benched," he explained.

"And so the prodigal son has returned at last," Rossi declared, kissing him on both cheeks as way of greeting. 

"Just temporarily, until Garcia and Alvez's situation is sorted out," Morgan replied, taking his seat. "Speaking of the Garcia and Alvez's… situation, is there something going on there that I'm not aware of?"

Tara laughed. "Officially? Not anymore. Unofficially? Not yet."

JJ's eyes nearly bulged out of her head. "Not anymore? What do you mean not anymore?"

"Yes," Rossi agreed. "What on earth do you mean not anymore?"

Tara was confused. "You mean you guys don't know?" She turned to Morgan. "You didn't know?"

"Does this look like the face of a man who has any fucking clue what you're talking about?"

"Penelope and Luke went on a date almost three years ago, not long after she left the team," Tara explained. "He told me so." 

"Only one?" JJ questioned. "That seems weird for them, I mean they pined after each other for years, then as soon as they get the chance they only go on one date? I kinda figured that once they finally got their heads out of their asses, that’d be it.”

“He told me that she said she didn’t want to start a relationship in a time when they couldn’t actually see each other, and covid hit almost right after their date. I guess they thought it was only going to last a few weeks, but then three weeks turned into three years but the feelings never dissipated on either side.”

"Alright, so walk me through it," Morgan said, suddenly all business. "Why are we perceiving Alvez in less danger than Penelope?"

"Well, there's his training, and the fact that he's armed," Emily listed. "And he's only been threatened the one time. Plus, as much as I hate to admit it, since Penelope was his original target, there is a good chance he'd go after her first to hurt Luke." 

"Wouldn't it be the other way around? He'd go for Luke first to hurt Penelope more?"

"Not necessarily," Tara said. "Luke was secondary in the threats, an afterthought. He'd be an afterthought in the violence as well."

Morgan considered this for a moment. “Are we sure this is the first time Alvez has been threatened?”

Emily turned to him. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I mean, come on,” he said. “Garcia refusing to enter a relationship that would be mostly online? If anyone’s going to thrive in that kind of environment, it’s her. And what did that message say?” Morgan pulled out his phone to see the message Emily sent him. “I warned you what would happen if you became too close to him. He said I warned you. This can’t be the first time Alvez was mentioned.”

JJ put her head in her hands. “Oh my god. How did we not see this?”

Rossi put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We believed Penelope wouldn’t withhold any important information from us, so we didn’t question it.”

“It’s our job to question it,” JJ retorted. “And why wouldn’t she tell us?”

"Maybe she was embarrassed," Tara suggested. "Maybe it was something about that date of which only I seem to be aware. She didn't want to have that conversation, especially not after three years. Maybe she figured telling us about the one threat was enough."

"Well there's only one way to be sure," Emily said, reaching for her phone. "I'm going to call them in here and ask." 

"Wait," Morgan said, holding his hand out as if to stop her. "Do we really need him to be here for this? If we're right and he doesn't know, there's a reason for that, right? And probably one for his safety." 

"He's already in danger," Emily pointed out. "And let's assume we're right. Put yourself in his shoes. If you were in love with someone for say… seven years, and then you finally ask her out. Say that afterward she calls things off citing a pandemic, but it was actually because she was trying to save your life. Wouldn’t you want to know?”

“Fair point,” Morgan conceded.

Emily hit the button in the middle of the table that connected them to Garcia. 

“Emily? What’s up?” Penelope asked, her voice betraying her nerves.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Emily assured her. “We just need you and Luke to come in here for a moment. We just have to ask you some questions.”

“Sure, we’ll be right there.”

The two entered the room moments later, and Penelope looked slightly unnerved. They weren’t supposed to be involved in this, so, despite Emily’s assurances, she was sure it couldn’t be very good.

Morgan watched as Luke pulled out a chair for Penelope to sit in before situating himself in the one right next to her. Since Tara’s bombshell about them having gone on one date, he had elected to keep an even closer eye on them to be sure what he thought he saw was actually what he thought he saw. Even from this small interaction, he had yet to be disappointed. 

“All right,” Emily said, all business. “Penelope, I know this is going to be awkward, but we need you to answer this question honestly. Is this the first time Luke was ever threatened by Alexei Stanovich?”

Penelope hung her head. She should have known this was coming. “No,” she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Luke’s eyes went wide. “What?” He placed his hand on her wrist, wordlessly encouraging her to look at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her eyes were starting to well with tears, both of mortification and guilt. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I really am, I wanted to, I—”

“Hey, hey.” Luke moved his hand from her wrist to her shoulder. 

Morgan looked over at JJ with a face that clearly read Are you seeing this too?

She nodded in response, seeming unsurprised.

“I’m not mad,” Luke told Penelope. “I promise. I just want to know why.”

She lifted her head to look him in the eyes. She could face him, answer him. The others? Not yet. But she could talk to him. “Remember how I said… that I didn’t want to keep dating because of Covid?”

Luke nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. “Yeah, I do. What about it?”

“It was a lie,” she confessed. “When I got home from dinner that night… I had a message from him. It said that if I kept dating you he would kill you, and if I told you the real reason why I couldn’t keep dating you, he’d kill you. I didn’t want to lie to you, but it was a lose-lose situation, I didn’t have a choice.”

“I get it,” Luke said, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly now. “I promise I’m not upset. In fact, I appreciate you lying to me in an attempt to save my life.”

Not upset was the understatement of the century. Everyone else in the room could see that he was in fact elated at the fact that she hadn’t chosen to end things with him, she’d been forced to do it. To Luke, it meant he still had a chance, once this was all over.

"Penelope, we're going to need you to send us those messages," Emily told her.

"I will." 

"All right. Thank you. Luke, since this wasn't a one-time thing, you're in more danger than we thought. That means no more coffee runs. You stay here full-time. No exceptions." 

Luke nodded. "Understood." 

"Okay. That's all we needed, so you two are free to go."

Luke and Penelope got up out of their seats and made their way back to her Batcave. 

"Wait, why did you need to be there?" Penelope asked. "She said she had to ask us some questions." 

Luke shrugged. "Maybe they just needed me to be present for the answers? It's good to know how many times your life's been threatened." 

"Luke, I'm so sorry, really–" Penelope started. 

"No no no!" Luke exclaimed, waving away her apology. "That wasn't meant as a dig, I swear! I understand why you didn't tell me. I'm not upset. I swear, Penelope, I'm not." 

She smiled. "Okay. I believe you. Thank you." 

"For what, not being mad at you?" 

"Yeah, I guess so."

His heart broke for her. "Penelope, you never have to thank anyone for not being mad at you." 

"I kept a massive secret from you." 

"Because someone was threatening my life. Look, we're just talking in circles at this point, so let's leave it at this: I'm not mad at you for not telling me that my life was being threatened. Okay?" 

She nodded and smiled at him, the kind of smile that lit up her whole face. The kind of smile that first made him fall in love with her. "Okay," she agreed. 

"Great. So let's go send them those messay, yeah?"

*** 

I hope you enjoyed your date with SSA Luke Alvez, Penelope, because it will be your last. That's right, I know about him and your date. I know everything about you. So here's what you're going to do: you're going to tell him that you don't want to go out with him anymore. If you do, I will kill him. If you tell him why you can't see him anymore, I will kill him. So you better make up a lie, and it better be a good one. Do. Not. Test. Me. I always follow through on my promises. 

Careful, Penelope. Don't go getting too close to him. You are mine. Remember my promise. I will kill him. I'll kill both of you.

Good, you're learning. Frenemies is much better than friends. Careful, though. You don't want your "frenemy" to die, now do you? 

I warned you what would happen if you became too close to him. You didn’t listen, Penelope. And now I will come for you both. 

The team poured over Alexei Stanovich's messages for hours, working tirelessly to figure out where this man could be. They were not letting him get anywhere near Luke and Penelope, that was for sure. 

Eventually, their eyes grew strained and their brains grew tired, and they decided to call it a night. 

"I'd say we should go out for drinks to celebrate Morgan's return," Rossi said, "but I believe there are two people down the hall who'd be quite upset to be left out of that, so how about I bring my secret stash into this room and we have a little party." 

"You have a secret stash?" Emily demanded. 

"Hotch's too, grabbed it when he left." 

"Actually," Morgan said. "I might still have a bottle of tequila in my old office." 

"The one that I have you?" Emily asked. 

"Yeah." 

Emily winced. "Yeah… that bottle might have been drunk… literal weeks after you left." 

Morgan laughed. "Nevermind then. Regardless, I'm down." 

"Me too," Tara said. "Absolutely." 

Rossi gave her a pointed look. "And if you think you're getting away with not inviting Rebecca, you're crazy, you hear me?" 

Tara laughed. "Yes, sir." 

Morgan turned to her, eyes wide and sparkling mischievously. They may not have worked together long, but they were still friends, and if she had someone new in her life, he was duty-bound to tease her about it. "Rebecca? Who is Rebecca?" 

Despite her best efforts to keep her cool, a large smile spread across Tara's face. "My girlfriend." 

"You have a girlfriend? How long has this been going on? And why didn't you tell me?" 

"A few months, and I didn't tell anyone until recently. Well, aside from Luke. He knew there was something up right away." 

"Well then you better invite her," Morgan told her. "Because I need to meet her." 

*** 

A few hours later, drinks were flowing and spirits were high. Morgan had gotten to meet Rebecca–and she was wonderful, perfect for Tara–and had even gotten to know Luke better. He learned about the other man's time in the military and the fugitive taskforce, and about his dog, Roxy. He also noticed how Luke's eyes never stayed away from one Penelope Garcia for too long. Neither did his conversation, as a matter of fact. Morgan always found their conversation drifting back to her in some way, shape, or form. Oh yeah. He had it bad. It was clear to Morgan that Luke would move heaven and earth for Penelope, and, truth be told, it made his heart soar. He was so glad she had someone like this. She deserved it.

At one point in the night, Morgan grabbed Penelope's arm and led her out of the round table room, taking her to sit at one of the desks in the bullpen. He made sure to situate them in a spot where they were visible through the windows in the round table room in case anyone (Luke) was looking for them (Penelope,) but it was also clear that they wanted privacy. 

"Hey," Morgan said. "We need to talk. Do you wanna explain to me why I had to hear from Tara and not you that you and Alvez went on a date three years ago?"

Penelope blushed and ducked her head. "It was just one date, I didn't know if it was going to end up being casual or not, so I didn't tell you." 

"No no, don't pull that bullshit with me, okay? You have told me about every casual fling or one-off date you've ever had in the eighteen years I've known you. You know what I think this is? You knew it wasn't casual, you knew you wanted it to be serious, and that scared you, so you didn't tell me because talking about it makes it too real. You're in love with him, aren't you?" 

Penelope groaned and rested her head on Morgan's shoulder. "I hate profilers. You know that?" 

"I'm not a profiler anymore." 

She shoved off of him lightly. "Shut up." 

Laughing, he grabbed her hands in his. "Hey. Babygirl. You know this isn't a bad thing, right? I haven't seen him much, but even I can tell he feels the same way just by the way he looks at you and acts around you." 

She nodded. "No, I know. And… yeah. I know. I know he does. Because, like, I have eyes, okay? I can see the way he looks at me and acts around me. I know that's not platonic. But it's not just that… and you can't tell anyone about this Derek, okay?" 

"I won't tell a soul," he promised. 

"The other week, right when I got the message… Luke was in the middle of telling me he wanted to date me." 

Morgan's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "He was what? Oh my god!”

“Yeah. And we haven’t really talked about it because of the whole someone’s-threatening-our-lives-thing… which in a weird way I’m kind of happy about? Because if Alexei Stanovich hadn’t decided to come here… I would have had to turn him down, except I don’t have a good excuse anymore and I would have to have lied to him, and I really didn’t want to do that. Is that crazy?”

“That’s not crazy at all,” Morgan assured her. “That’s you making the best of a bad situation. It’s completely understandable. But now I gotta work extra hard to make sure you get your man back as soon as possible." 

She laughed and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her. "Thank you. For coming back, for helping,… for everything." 

"Of course, sweetness." They sat like that for a moment more before Morgan said, "All right, let's head back in before they start secretly thinking we're in love." 

He stood up, but Penelope hesitated for a moment before saying, "I was, at one point, you know? I used to be in love with you. I'm quite obviously over it now, it was a long, long time ago, but you're my best friend. You should probably know." 

Morgan's smile was almost a little sad. "Yeah, I know. So was I, at one point, but I was too scared to do anything about it. Then by the time I was no longer scared, you had Kevin. Then by the time you didn't have Kevin, it had been years and I'd gotten over it." 

“It never would have worked for us, would it?”

“I don’t think so, no,” Morgan replied. “But that’s okay. Because I have Savannah and Hank, and you have a man right in there,” he points at the round table room, “who isn’t afraid of how much he loves you. Now for real, let’s head back in.”

She nodded and they made their way back up the stairs to the small party that was going on. 

“Hey,” Morgan whispered. “Give it two weeks, max, and this bastard will be taken care of and you’ll have your man back. I promise you.”

***

As it turns out, two weeks only ended up being two days. The team caught a lead and they were on their way to apprehend Alexei Stanovich at that very moment. All Penelope and Luke could do was sit and wait for the news that it was over. In her anxiety, Penelope had been drinking cup after cup of chamomile tea in an attempt to soothe her nerves. Luke was in the break room refilling their mugs when she got the call.

She quickly answered the phone as soon as she saw the caller ID. “Derek?”

“We got him, Babygirl.”

“You got him?”

“We got him. Alexei Stanovich is in custody and no longer a threat to you or Luke. It’s over. You’re safe.”

Penelope was so relieved she couldn’t quite believe it. “It’s really over.”

“It is. You know what to do.” With a click, he was gone.

It was at that moment that Luke re-entered her lair. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked, noticing how still she was standing.

She turned to him, a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. “They got him. It’s over.”

He places their mugs down on the desk beside him. “Really?”

She nodded emphatically. “Really.”

Neither of them could tell who moved first, but before they knew it they were running at each other, and he had her wrapped tight in a hug, spinner her around. They looked at each other with the widest smiles they’d worn in weeks. 

It struck them suddenly, the position they were in. His arms were tight around her waist, hers looped around his neck and shoulders, and their faces were inches apart. Penelope began to lean in, wanting so badly to kiss him and convey everything she’d been suppressing the past few years. All of Luke’s heart wanted nothing more than to close the remaining gap and finally know what it was like to kiss her, but there was one part of his brain telling him to do this the right way, to make sure this was something she wanted, not just some heat-of-the-moment, a-psychopath-was-threatening-our-lives-but-that’s-over-now sort of thing. 

“Penelope,” he whispered. “Wait a second. About what I said the other week… about wanting to date you…I said all of that stuff, and I meant it, but I really don't want things to change between us or get weird. I'm totally cool with being friends if that's what you want, but I don’t want to be something you regret. I am completely in love with you and I need to be completely honest and-"

“Shut the fuck up, Newbie,” Penelope said, cutting him off before kissing him.

Luke didn’t know whether it was her use of fuck or Newbie that shocked him more, but either way, he listened, and he kissed her back with every ounce of adoration he had in his body.

And it was glorious. The soft push of lip against lip, the gentle tightness of holding someone you never wanted to let go of, two people so deeply in love sharing breaths and pouring seven years of pent-up feelings and pining into one long, beautiful kiss. 

When they finally broke apart, Penelope pushed herself up on her toes so she could press her forehead against his. “I love you too, Luke Alvez. Always have.”

Luke was so happy he thought he might die. This had been all he had ever wanted for the past seven years, and now he had it. Now he had her. And he kissed her again.

***

“So how much do you want to bet they’re already together by the time we get back?” Morgan mused as the team made their way back to Quantico. Personally, he was sure the odds were quite high.

“No way,” JJ said. 

He looked at her quizzically. “Really? Why not?”

“Because they just survived a really traumatic experience,” she explained. “Give them some time to adjust to the fact that their lives are no longer in danger, then they’ll get together.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I think you’re wrong. I think they’ve been waiting a while as it is, now that there are no obstacles in the way, they’re getting together as soon as possible.”

“Willing to bet on it?”

Morgan grinned. “Oh absolutely. Twenty dollars sound good to you?”

“Well I was going to say fifty, but if you’re not confident enough…”

“Oh no, I just didn’t think you’d want to give me that much of your money. Fifty it is.”

He extended his hand to hers and they shook on it.

No sooner had the team stepped out of the elevator and seen Penelope and Luke—who had come out of her lair to greet the team as they arrived—did Morgan extend his hand to JJ. “Haha! I told you! Pay up, sucker!”

“Are you kidding me?” JJ groaned, handing over the money.

Penelope was taken aback. “What is happening right now?”

Morgan gestured between Luke and Penelope. “Seven years of pining put to rest,” then he pointed at himself. “And because of it I’m fifty dollars richer.”

Penelope’s jaw dropped. “What? How did you already—”

Tara’s laugh cut her off. “Nice lipstick, Luke.”

“Wha—” Luke wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and found it stained with the same bright red that was painting the lips of the woman he loved the most. “Penelope!”

Penelope had the decency to look at least slightly guilty. “I’m sorry?”

Luke gazed softly at her. “No, you’re not.”

She smiled back up at him. “No, you’re right, I’m not.”

“Do they even see us standing here?” Emily whispered.

“No they do not,” Rossi whispered back. “Can’t say I blame them. This has been a long time coming.”

#Garvez #Garvez fanfiction #Penelope Garcia #Luke Alvez #Platonic Morvez #Derek Morgan #Emily Prentiss #Tara Lewis #David Rossi #Jennifer Jareau #Alexei Stanovich #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds reboot #Criminal Minds Evolution #CME spoilers

[lucakairomi]

Here we go again! Malik belongs to @lumpsbumpsandwhumps

---

At the sight of her former torturer, Luca blinks and rapidly processes the situation. Public place- or at least as public as a funeral home in the middle of back-ass nowhere was. Innocent people. No immediate threat. Azelf give me strength. Cordial interaction it is.

She pointedly ignores his proffered hand- she never said anything about nice interaction- and tries to appear professional. "Malik."

The glances and hushed whispers from the small crowd of onlookers at her refusing his handshake aren't lost on her, but she ignores it to focus on the infuriatingly smug face of the man in front of her. "I'm here for a case."

"Ah, yes, poor Marvin," Malik shakes his head as if he actually felt any human emotion other than sadism. "He was taken from us too soon, God rest his soul..."

The crowd murmurs in agreement and Luca wants to scream at them in frustration, but chances are all that'll accomplish is her looking like a crazy woman attacking a defenseless upstanding man of God. Not like she hasn't done that before... but for the sake of the case it probably wasn't the best idea.

"I'm assuming you got my letters, then?" Malik asks, and Luca remembers the several funeral bouquets that had shown up at her house a week after the... incident. She'd made sure to shred them and dump them somewhere her housemates couldn't see, and now she wishes she had set them on fire instead. She nods, speaking between gritted teeth. "Imkai'eh."

Ignoring the [now much louder] whispers from their audience, she clears her throat and says, "You have the body here?"

He nods. "Sure do, darlin'. Right this way."

She follows him inside, cognizant of the way the crowd parts to let them by. Evidently Malik is well-respected- which doesn't stop her from seizing him by the tie and yanking him close as soon as the door shuts behind them. "Give me one reason not to expose your ass right now."

Malik doesn't look concerned. It probably doesn't help that he's a head taller than her. "Would you mind? Just got this suit pressed."

She lets go, if only because their height difference is so much worse up close, and he steps back and straightens his tie. "Tell me, darlin', who do you think they'll believe? The girl who just plumb stepped into town outta nowhere, or their lovely local man of God who hasn't a mean bone in his body?"

"Like hell you don't," she retorts, but he has a point. "You can't actually expect me to believe you called me here to solve a murder."

Malik shrugs. "Doesn’t matter much to me what you do. Six in one, half dozen in the other."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Luca demanded, before shaking her head. "I'm solving this case. And once I find out you did it, I'm hauling you down to the county jail myself."

Malik doesn't seem to care, pulling out a candy bar from his pocket and starting to munch. Luca spies the brand and rolls her eyes. "And here I thought you couldn't get any worse."

The man looks genuinely confused. "What?"

"Payday? Seriously? Even your choice of candy bar screams "sociopath"."

She ignores his utterly lost expression. "Just show me the damn body."

#my writing #luca and malik #not whump #drabble #case file maj

[clickonmedotexe]

Rex is shoved against the wall by a blur of shadows, hands wrapping around his wrists and throat before he even realizes what's going on. In a second he's pinned down and the pressure on his windpipe is getting harsher while he thrashes against the hold.

"How dare you touch her. I'm going to kill you."

He knows the voice, having possessed the speaker's body once back when he himself was part of the very virus which had tormented him the last few weeks.

Mason Paines, the friend of Thursday - of course he would've heard about their earlier run in. Except Rex thought Thursday had him better under control. Maybe she sent him to find Rex after deciding the demonic ghostly beast gutting him wasn't enough.

"Wasn't- me-" Rex chokes out. He kicks at Maso but the other isn't fazed in the slightest. He's stronger than Rex, both physically and because the burning rage lends him some extra strength, enough that Maso's certain he can pop his head off if he just pushes harder.

"I know you threatened her before, you slimy revolting pervert. I'm going to mangle you and feed you the parts I chopped off until you choke on them, Rex, I'll make what Alice did to you look like a walk in the fucking park." Maso is squeezing his throat harder, ignoring Rex's frantic attempts to escape.

He can't wrench his hands free and his kicks do nothing. He tries to knee Maso in the stomach, manages to do it once (Maso doesn't blink), and the second time is blocked by Maso's shadow which has wrapped around his body protectively, shielding him from further attacks.

"I was- possessed-" The older man is turning purple, black spots crowding over his vision as his head pounds painfully, demanding to be given oxygen. He's either going to faint or die and neither of those sound particularly fun right now - especially after all the restarts he just went through while Vir took his body for a joyride.

"I don't care." Maso leans in, glaring at Rex with a bottomless hatred - he won't be satisfied until he's certain Rex has suffered as much as he's done to Thursday. Even if it wasn't him. Maso can't bring himself to care. Right now Rex is the face of everything bad that had ever happened to his friend. All the injuries, the rejections, the pain, the abandonment and the tortures she's faced, Maso turned away from the instigators as best he could to focus on damage control instead but the more times she got attacked the more resentment built up inside of him until finally it had to snap.

Rex was the last straw.

Even if he wasn't the one to leave her for dead or maim her with a chainsaw or even cut her tongue out, he was far from innocent and Maso doubts it really matters if he's hurting Rex for allegedly being forced to torture Thursday to death, or if he's hurting him for all the times he did actually torture Thursday's friends, possessed innocents and ruined friendships with his manipulation.

"You deserve to die, you motherfucker. You deserve to have everything taken away from you - especially that family you brainwashed into loving you. Fuck you. I'm going to flay you alive, I'm going to tear you into a million little pieces and set them on fire you fucking asshole, I hate you so much! Who do you think you are, ruining everyone's lives? I'm going to tear your dick off and make you eat it, you perv-"

Mason Paines.

Maso has gotten angrier with every word, bitter tears of frustration and rage welling up in his eyes as he slams Rex into the wall repeatedly with each threat. Rex is too weak to fight back and with how he's rapidly losing consciousness, he thinks he might've imagined the voice if it weren't for how Maso paused too.

Put him down. Let me take a look.

Maso grits his teeth, but obeys. He yanks Rex forward and kicks him to the ground. Rex falls and starts hacking for air immediately, wheezing out of his now bruised windpipe.

"He's disgusting, Icarus. No one does anything about him because they're either too scared or too enamored by him. He needs to- to die!"

Hush. The voice commands and reluctantly Maso falls silent, deciding to stand there and glare at Rex instead. There's someone else standing in the room with them, their presence as thick as fog even though Rex can't see the speaker. He can hear their voice in his head and out loud, and he knows that whoever this is is far from the demons and entities he's met before. They aren't even like the god who had possessed him earlier and changed him to his whim.

This presence is older, powerful. It feels as if for the first time he's in the same room with Capital G God.

Except Maso is talking casually to 'God' and there's no singing choir of celestials accompanying them.

If Rex squints hard enough, he might be able to make out a ever shifting figure shining in blue standing above him, but looking at it felt wrong, like he's glimpsing into another plane of reality.

Rex Sovereign. The voice says. Another broken soul spreading pain and Despair where it goes. I am surprised Calypso has not taken interest in you.

Maso scoffs. Rex has no idea what they're talking about.

"I t-told you." He rubs at his throat, which hurts terribly. "I didn't touch Thursday. It wasn't my idea, for fucks sakes. Just listen to me."

You have hurt many people. You're a parasite. Where you go, you attempt to lay ownership in people's lives, for better or for worse. Yet your courage is all a lie. In reality, you are so very afraid.

Rex suddenly realizes how exposed he is. He can't hide from this being who is looking directly at him. Not his mask. At him.

In an instant it can see everything. Every insecurity he ever had, every moment of weakness, every scar on his soul and what story came along with it.

He instinctively tries to hide but there's no place he can go to shield himself from the humiliation of being on display.

You fear you are as unlovable as you were made to believe when you were young, so you attempt to gain people's affections through manipulation and lies, you crave intimacy so you look for it in the wrong places because you cannot bear losing control. You believe yourself to be strong but you cannot bend so you are brittle. The slightest pressure would snap you in half. If others found out the truth about you, you would hide in shame as you have done from the ones you claim to be your family.

Rex says nothing, hands curled into fists. He wants to deny it but no words come out in his defense.

You have changed. There is hope inside of you, which is your saving grace. You are lucky I did not stumble upon you sooner or you would no longer be as you are. I will be back for you, Rex Sovereign. Go to your family. Do not lay a hand on a single person in the meantime or I will take you away from your loved ones in an instant. You won't have the chance to say goodbye.

The being turns to address Maso.

I will take a look at your friend. Do not hesitate to call me again if you require assistance.

Maso nods and watches as Icarus fades away, gone from their current perception but around in case of anything. He glances down at Rex who looks like someone put him through the wringer several times.

"I guess my threats are useless now in light of Icarus'." Maso says dryly. He's still mad, even if he's better at controlling it now. "Don't go near Thursday again. Don't even look at her."

Rex purses his lips, exhausted and annoyed. He gets up, making sure to stay far enough away from Maso in case the other tries to jump him again and shoots him a bitter look.

"Tell her it wasn't me, it was Vir. And I tried to warn her. If she'd have run like I told her to, maybe she could've found help before it attacked her."

Maso scowls darkly.

Rex doesn't say anything else. He just turns and heads back to his Office, like Icarus suggested he do.

Maso watches him go for a moment, scoffs and heads off as well. He figures he should let Thursday know about what happened and make her aware of Icarus' intentions to visit.

#drabble #＜/error＞ #neverendingparable #celestial cataclysm

[axgmented]

[ 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender hears receiver crying and approaches comfort them .

@meteodrives

When people say that the Turks felt nothing, it only proved they had no idea who they really were. Of course, in their line of work, emotions and morals go right out the window when the contract is signed and you're slapped on the payroll. They have a reputation to uphold, to be the ghosts of Shinra, the guard dogs, the attack dogs-- all of it. Those who wore their hearts on their sleeves didn't last long in their line of work. But to say that the Turks felt nothing?

Rem tips her beer back, taking long pulls of the alcohol before feeling it sit like a puddle of swamp water in her stomach. She had paid Tifa for the beer and liquor she swiped from the shelf and hefted to the roof of the bar. She just didn't want to drink down below deck, with all those prying eyes-- tonight just wasn't a good night. Rem, unlike her counterparts in the ranks, felt everything too intensely. She grieved for her brothers in arms when they wouldn't let themselves. She ached for their sins, taking on their burdens and once a month she's a shaken soda bottle that just explodes. She wishes she could have waited until she got home though.

Her eyes burn, chest and lungs scream for air as she tries to evenly blow the air out of her quivering lungs. She tries to steady the way her chest hiccups, tries to keep her whimpers quiet as she knocks back another beer-- twenty-four pack doesn't last long with a metabolism like hers. Her face feels hot, ears ringing as she remembers how Reno clenched his teeth and fought with Rude, how he was plagued with nightmares and how the guilt eats at his ribs-- because he doesn't believe he has a heart left. How Rude is the stone in the storm, taking every hit his partner throws at him because he knows, gaia does he know, that it isn't him he's angry with. It's the whole construct of good and evil, of sins and atonement.

Rem wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, a shaking hand lighting the end of a cigarette and taking a drag from the filter. They wont see it, Turks had built a reputation for being the shadows of death for a while. Following orders, never asking questions; asking questions got you off the roster and well.. off the roster just meant a lifetime of silence six feet underground. It wasn't like they had much of a choice; sure break ranks and join a rag-tag team of resistance fighters? ShinRa had ranks.. not just Turks.

She hates how they demonise them, how they only see the sins of the past. It was true, what her brothers-in-arms did was horrible, but what they don't understand is how Rufus was nothing like his father; all of that, was the Seniors idea. Rem flinches, seeing the visions of the plate dropping as Reno described to her one night-- how pale he looked, how he shook as if he had a fever. The heat of the explosions, the sounds of metal. She feels sick but chases the nausea with a pull of whiskey this time before her eyes burn again. She'll cry because they can't. They wont, because they dont feel like they deserve to.

She hadn't heard Tifa come up behind her, so when she feels the woman's hand curling around her shoulder Rem nearly smashes the bottle against her ribs out of instinct. It takes her a minute, blinking rapidly before realising it wasn't a threat, just the barmaid. God, this was embarrassing. She wouldn't expect Tifa to understand, part of her wishes she did though. Her head turns, hand hastily wiping at her cheeks to rid them of the glassy streaks.

"..it got bad again t'day. ain't nev'r seen renton go aft'r rude like tha' in a long time…" her voice is pinched, and Rem uses it as an excuse to take down another mouthful of whiskey in order to clear her throat.

"..they wont cry, so i guess i'll do it f'em.."

rem feels it, all their guilt and their agony; their insomnia and fear-- how thick it stays on their tongue and how it settles beneath their eyes in dark circles. She feels her own guilt, for the lives she takes without question and how when she's on missions, she doesn't feel anything but excitement for snuffing out lives.

".. but who tha fuck cries for me, Ma?"

#answered;;