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skzsauce01 · 3 years

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Angel Sent From Up Above

Anniversary Request Special

Synopsis: Hyunjin, a new guardian angel, has fallen in love with a human. His human’s girlfriend, to be precise. Angel AU, background college AU and skater AU.

Warning: violence

Word Count: 8.3k

Pairing: fem!reader x guardian angel!Hyunjin; fem!reader x human!Jeongin

“Is she healed now?” Hyunjin asks the moment Jisung flies in. He knows Jisung is probably exhausted from keeping maladies away from you, but he needs the answer now. “Is her flu gone?”

“Yeah.” Jisung’s wings are tinged gray with ruin, but he keeps them on display for all the other guardian angels to see as he walks past them. They are proof that he has been doing his duty. They’ll return to white soon enough anyway. “Your human’s her boyfriend. Why didn’t you try to check through him? He visited a few times even though she told him not to.” Jisung sighs and shakes his head. “What an idiot. He’s going to get sick himself.”

“He hasn't visited recently, so I haven’t been able to check through him. The Archangel’s forbade me going to Earth unless it was something serious. I think he’s worried I'm spending too much time with humans.”

Jisung shakes his head. “I think he’s worried that he’s going to have to Seungmin you.”

“I'm not going to get expelled.”

Jisung shrugs, and ruin falls from his wings like ash. “You better watch out. You checked up on her too much last time she got sick, so he's probably trying to make sure you won't abandon your human. He's banished people for less. Case in point: Seungmin.”

“She's important to Jeongin, so she's important to me."

Jisung sighs. “Sometimes I think you’re more protective of her than I am.”

He says it as a joke, but Hyunjin knows it’s the truth. He cares deeply about you, maybe even more than his own human, but he will never say that last part aloud.

Hyunjin used to believe that becoming a guardian angel was the best thing that ever happened to him. All of his afterlife, he had wanted to be promoted, to be granted the pure white wings and the crown of sun rays. Regular angels had wings and halos but never white wings and golden halos; silver and silver was the “regular” combination.

Watching over a human was considered the highest honor an angel could receive, and everyone clamored to gain the attention of the Archangel. Hyunjin was not immune. He worked as a messenger for years, delivering even the most inane notes between the higher ups. He endured the attacks, verbal and sometimes physical, and kept his mouth shut. Eventually, the Archangel recognized his efforts, and before dawn broke on Earth, Hyunjin was named the new guardian angel of a baby boy, Yang Jeongin.

“You will protect him. You will guide him,” the Archangel said. “He is your responsibility now and yours alone. Do you understand?”

From Heaven, Hyunjin could only look at the wet, wrinkled face of his human. His human. “I understand.”

Then the Archangel flew off, and Hyunjin flew to Earth for the first time to meet the baby. No one noticed him as he phased through the hospital walls nor as his giant wings folded back. Only Jeongin would be able to see his guardian angel.

“Hello there, little one,” he whispered to the swaddled baby. The boy was fast asleep, and Hyunjin gently stroked his face. “I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Hyunjin, your official guardian angel. I’ll always be nearby now, and I’ll always make sure you’re safe. Sometimes you won’t be able to see me, but I’ll always be watching over you. I promise.”

Jeongin stirred awake and stared back at Hyunjin. Two sets of eyes blinked at each other, one full of curiosity and one full of tenderness.

“Go back to sleep,” Hyunjin said. He drew his hand over the baby’s face, and Jeongin’s eyes fluttered shut. “Sweet dreams, little one.”

Guardian angels talked about their humans like parents, bragging about how gifted they were and sharing complaints about what unbelievable thing they did the other day. Hyunjin mostly did the latter. Jeongin was an adventurous child, which was just a nice way of saying that he liked to play with danger. Hyunjin often had to fly in to save him or to redirect the threat somewhere else. The other angels joked that Hyunjin stayed on Earth more than Heaven sometimes. He didn’t mind though. Even with his human’s shortcomings, Hyunjin adored him. He watched from above as Jeongin said his first words, attended his first day of kindergarten, and got into his first fight.

“He’s a troublemaker,” Minho observed.

Minho was a guardian angel as well, but he tended to lurk on the outer edges of the realm as the other angels avoided him for a reason Hyunjin hadn’t figured out yet. Hyunjin liked him well enough and treated him like a mentor, sometimes a friend.

“Hey, you’re not one to talk. Your human started a black market of candy at school.”

Minho shrugged. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

Jeongin didn’t end up growing up into a troublemaker, to Hyunjin’s relief. The impulsive streak was still there, but he utilized his judgement more now. There were no car crashes or cases of alcohol poisoning, and when Jeongin asked out girls, it was with daisy bouquets and a suggestion to get lunch. Hyunjin slowly stopped making routine trips to Earth and chose to view Jeongin from the comfort of Heaven. It was there that Hyunjin noticed you.

“I think she’s upset with him,” Jisung abruptly says. “She cried after a video call with him, so if your human starts acting strangely, that’s why.”

The news makes Hyunjin stop mid-step, and he turns to his friend. “She cried? What? What did she cry about?”

“I don’t know. I was too busy trying to lower her temperature. Can you believe that she almost hit—”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I just got back! There is no ‘earlier!’ Besides, we aren't allowed to interfere in anything that isn't dangerous. Heartbreak, if this is even what this is, is temporary."

“Humans do drastic things for love.” The movies has seen while watching Jeongin have told him that much.

“Which we will attend to when it happens. You’re a new guardian; you’ll understand them better over time. Not everything is life-threatening, fragile as they are.”

Hyunjin turns away from Jisung and glances down at Earth. The clouds part, and all of the brick buildings of the university rush towards his eyes as he focuses on Jeongin. He’s asleep at his desk, his lamp still burning bright above him. How long has it been since the video call? Or perhaps he’s just tired from the events of his day. But he looks so small and vulnerable in his chair. Jeongin isn’t fragile — the amount of situations he has gotten out of covered in bruises and blood is astronomical — but he is mortal.

“But she loves him,” Hyunjin softly says, “and he loves her.”

“Exactly. Humans fight over small things all the time, and this is one of those times.” Jisung places a hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder to placate him. “Trust me.”

“... I trust you.”

“Good. I need to rest, but we can catch up and see what stupid things they do after.”

The moment Jisung flies off to the rest area, Hyunjin goes against the Archangel’s orders and flies to your apartment. When he peers inside your bedroom window, he spots you sitting in bed in the dark, your phone screen illuminating your face. He phases inside and sits at your desk chair, resting his forearms at the top rail. You can’t see him, but he wishes that you could.

You mindlessly scroll through messages, sniffling every few seconds. Whether it’s from your crying or your illness, he doesn’t know. He can’t hand you a tissue or tell you comforting things or hug you like Jeongin can. When you wrap your blanket tighter around your shoulders, he wraps his wings around himself as well.

Suddenly you throw your phone beside you and let out a heavy sigh. “It can’t get any worse than this,” you say to yourself.

Hyunjin waits for you to say more, but you only stare at the ceiling with blank eyes. He can’t compel you to talk; only Jisung can, but he’s not here. So instead, Hyunjin knocks over the glass of water on your bed when you shift into a more comfortable position.

“Of course it can,” you sigh again and blot as much water as you can with your tissues. You pull another one out of the box with more force than necessary and furiously dab your sheets. “First I get sick, then I miss a homework deadline that I can’t make up because my professor lost his heart thirty years ago along with his hair, then my boyfriend breaks up with me for like no reason, apparently I have an exam tomorrow, and now I’ve spilled water all over my bed, so I can’t even sleep. Thank you, universe. I really needed this.”

He immediately regrets his decision.

“Worst freaking week of my life,” you mumble as you throw away the wet tissues. Hyunjin almost reaches out for your arm when you pass by, but he retracts it just in time.

When you climb back into bed, you draw your blanket up to your chin and begin murmuring numbers. They come out calm and even at first, but they become more tense as time passes. Hyunjin half-listens as he scans the contents of your desk. A laptop, a shopping bag, an open notebook with doodles on the margins, an uncapped black pen, and a pack of gum. He presses his forefinger to the point of the pen, drawing a tiny heart by touch. Then he stamps the heart among all your misshapen stars and imaginary flowers. You might just think it’s an ink smear, but he hopes you look at it and smile.

You hit three hundred and forty-seven before you begin to sound drowsy. Hyunjin stands at the foot of your bed, watching as you finally drift off in the middle of three hundred and ninety-three. Serenity settles across your features.

“I’m sorry for what I did earlier. Good night and sweet dreams,” he whispers. He pats the corner of your bed before flying off into the night.

He needs to see Jeongin.

It was hard not to notice you when you were on a collision course with Jeongin. You were going too fast, and Hyunjin’s wings couldn’t carry him to Earth in milliseconds. With horror, he watched as you sharply turned the building corner on your skateboard and just barely jumped off in time when you saw Jeongin about to make the same turn.

“You okay?” Jeongin asked as he hurried to stop your runaway board.

“I should be asking you that!” you exclaimed as you followed him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have veered that close to the wall. You’re not hurt or anything, right?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Good. I can’t risk getting sued again.” Unsure of how to respond, Jeongin nudged back your board to you. You neatly stopped it mid-roll with your foot. “Thanks, by the way. See you around.”

“Yeah, see you.”

You kicked off, but before you left the area, you turned around and gave him a wave. Jeongin waved back, albeit more shyly than you. After a moment’s hesitation, he yelled out, “Be careful!”

“I’ll try!”

Jeongin laughed and turned the corner, looking at the brick wall with more wistfulness than most people usually did. Before he entered the building, he peeked around the next corner, as if he expected you to come speeding by again. You didn’t.

After that, he noticed you more often, usually swerving around strangers as you cut through campus. Whenever he had the opportunity to say hello, he did so with a smile, and you returned it with a waggle of your fingers before disappearing into the crowd. Once, you nearly crashed into a railing. You laughed it off and gave him another wave along with a funny face. Hyunjin felt something inside him melt. Jeongin must have too since he headed to his next class with the most lovestruck expression Hyunjin had ever seen on him.

It was then that Jeongin began forming a plan.

Two weeks after the first meeting, Jeongin waited in the quad for you to show up. Just as he hoped, you came walking down the steps fifteen minutes later, skateboard tucked underneath your arm. It was supposed to seem like a coincidence, but Hyunjin had followed Jeongin as he scoured nearby skate spots, asking around about you. Yesterday, he had learned where you liked to practice tricks. He got up from his bench, hands hidden behind his back, and approached you with the same moves and confidence he had rehearsed in the bathroom mirror.

“Hey! How have you been?” he called up from the very bottom.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin groaned. Jisung, who Hyunjin had tracked down two days prior to this, also did so.

“You said he was a charmer,” Jisung complained. “Look at him. He can’t even charm dogs with a treat.”

“For your sake, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Just wait though. It’s going to get better.”

Jisung huffed. “It better. She deserves the best.”

Fortunately, you took it all in stride and waved hello at Jeongin. When you were finally beside him, you answered, “I’ve been good, thanks. You’re not here to sue me, right?”

“No! I was actually wondering if you could teach me how to skateboard. If you have time, that is.”

“Really? But I almost killed you that one time. I mean, I’d be happy to, but it’s kind of weird after what happened.”

“I’d rather skateboard than walk, and you seem pretty good at it.”

You shifted your weight to one foot, and Hyunjin chuckled when he saw Jeongin’s eyes wander to your jutted-out hip. Jisung made a noise of disapproval.

“Okay, what is this really about?”

“Skateboarding,” Jeongin said. Then he took a step closer and held out a bundle of daisies towards you. “And lunch, if you want.”

You broke out into a grin. “I am a little hungry right now. L/N Y/N, skateboarding extraordinaire and ramen enthusiast, at your service.”

“Yang Jeongin, also a ramen enthusiast. Nice to officially meet you.”

Jeongin is still sleeping at his desk when Hyunjin arrives. He shifts and exhales when the wind from Hyunjin’s wings create a small breeze but does not wake.

“How could you break up with her?” Hyunjin says. “She’s amazing and wonderful, and you decide that you don't want to be with her? Sometimes I wonder what’s going on in your head.”

Silence.

“If I were human, I would have never done that, but…”

Jeongin shifts again, burying himself deeper into the crumpled hoodie he’s using as a pillow. The table squeaks, and a mechanical pencil rolls off the desk. Hyunjin quietly places the pencil back to its initial place and shuts off the lamp.

“Take care of yourself, and make good choices, okay? I can’t do that for you.”

Instead of flying back to Heaven, he perches on the roof of the building across from Jeongin’s. Jeongin finally wakes up and notices that his light is off. He glances at it confusedly for a few seconds, wondering if he misremembered leaving it on. In the end, he decides it’s not worth the effort and falls into his bed. He didn’t even spare you a thought, a crime in Hyunjin’s eyes.

Then he realizes he may have a bigger problem on his hands.

Jisung.

Jisung is going to be very upset when he finds out about this.

Over the weekend, you brought Jeongin to the quad to learn the basics.

“Put both feet on the board now,” you said as you walked alongside a skateboarding Jeongin. He was borrowing yours to practice, so he treated it with more reverence than a well-used board would need. Even though he was pushing with his back foot, he was going at a snail’s pace.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m going to lose my balance and fall.”

Perhaps it wasn’t reverence after all.

You shook your head. “No, you won’t. You’re not going that fast anyway. You can just step off if you really feel like you are. Give it a shot.”

To his credit, Jeongin lifted his foot a few centimeters off the ground before planting it back. “I’m going to lose control.”

While you did your best to persuade Jeongin to give it another try, Jisung gave Hyunjin a dissatisfied look. “I remember you telling me he was a daredevil. What is happening?”

He didn’t exactly know either. “He’s in front of his crush; give him a break.”

“These two better not end up dating. She deserves so much better than him.”

Hyunjin gave him a dirty look, Jisung gave him a “What? It’s true” type of a shrug.

You step in front of the board. “How about this?” you said. “You stand on the board with both feet, and I’ll pull you along so you can get used to the feeling and be less of a scaredy cat.”

“Okay.”

You took both of his hands and slowly guided him backwards. At the same time, you instructed him to put more weight on one side to change directions. Jeongin was surprisingly stable, and Hyunjin watched proudly as his human suggested that you increase your speed a little.

“See? It’s not bad?” you said. “Keeping balance isn’t that hard, right?”

“Yeah. Also,” he grinned, his meek demeanor completely gone, “we’re holding hands now.”

Your eyes widened as you glanced down at your joined hands, and you let out a delighted gasp. “You sneaky little—” Much to Jeongin’s alarm, you let go and smirked. “If you go past the bench without constantly pushing, I’ll let you hold my hand when you walk me home.”

“Kind of presumptuous of you to assume that I would offer to walk you home,” he teased, resting one foot on the floor. “Or is that what you want me to do?”

“You asked me to lunch with flowers. You were going to.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Then he kicked off, skating past the bench with ease. Still going, he looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Do you want to grab doughnuts before you head home?”

“Watch the lamp!” you yelled as you ran towards him. “Jeongin, stop looking at me and turn around!”

The collision with the lamppost was unavoidable, so Hyunjin simply watched as Jeongin took a flying leap off your board and took a tumble on the concrete. While you fumbled for band aids — Jeongin’s knee was scraped and bloody — Jeongin patted his pockets to check that his phone had not fallen out.

“So doughnuts?” he sheepishly asked.

“Sure. I’ll buy.” You finally found one hidden in the bottom of your backpack along with an alcohol wipe. “Guess you get to hold my hand after all.”

“How are you so prepared?” he asked, nodding to the contents you had unceremoniously dumped out whilst rummaging. “You have tweezers and gauze?”

“My mom made me carry a first-aid kit with me when she found out that I skate to class. It comes in handy.” You ripped open the package. “This might hurt.”

“You can kiss it to feel better.”

You laughed and pressed the alcohol wipe to his knee. “You’re such a flirt, I love it. Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, hurts a lot.”

You opted to kiss the band aid instead, causing Jeongin to pout and Jisung to sigh in relief. When you stuck it onto his skin, Jeongin made a big production of being relieved from pain, which made you laugh and shove him.

“No! She’s in love with him,” Jisung groaned. His wings drooped, and Hyunjin swore his halo actually dimmed when you kept your hands in Jeongin’s after you pulled him up. “Well, Hyunjin, looks like you and I are going to be best friends.”

Hyunjin personally saw no issue with that. Like Jeongin, he had been charmed by your antics and your easygoing nature. Protecting his human’s friends, family, or lovers wasn’t part of Hyunjin’s duty, but he felt compelled to watch over you too.

Because if he were human, he would have fallen in love with you too.

In the midst of his lamenting, Jisung flies down and sits beside him on the roof. His wings are still slightly gray, and Hyunjin strangely begins to feel self-conscious of his pure white ones.

“Didn’t the Archangel forbid you from doing frivolous things?” Jisung says in lieu of a greeting. “I saw you at her apartment earlier.”

“I just wanted to check up on her. Not that I thought you lied,” he hastily adds. “I wanted to see for myself. She’s a little… distraught.”

“She got into a fight with her boyfriend. It’s normal.” When Hyunjin doesn’t reply or even make a sound, he grows concerned. “Is it something else? She’s getting sued, isn’t she? I knew it was going to happen someday. When I find that smug richie-rich, I’m going to—”

“Jeongin broke up with her.”

“What.”

Hyunjin repeats his sentence, trying to block the view of Jeongin’s bedroom with his body. Jisung looks like he’s ready to rain judgement onto him, and while Hyunjin is rather good at his job, he’s not sure if he can hold back an enraged guardian angel. Jisung takes several deep breaths before regaining the little composure he can muster.

“I knew I hated him for a reason. I knew he didn’t deserve her,” he spits out, though the venom in his voice wavers. “Why would he even break up with her? She loved him so much.”

Hyunjin shrugs. “That’s what I want to find out.”

“When you find out, let me know. I’m going to see her now.”

Hyunjin stays on the roof until sunrise. Jeongin sleeps without any trouble, and when he wakes up, he looks fresh-faced, no guilt hanging over his head. Hyunjin feels something inside him cracking apart.

You truly don’t deserve this.

“Do you think they’re going to crash and burn?” Jisung asked as he studied you and Jeongin walking through the park, practically glued to each other’s sides. “I think they’re moving too fast. It’s only been a month.”

Hyunjin really didn’t care about that. As long as you and Jeongin were happy, he was happy. “A month is a pretty long time for them. Mortal lives are short.”

“Exactly. They should be more selective about their life choices.”

Hyunjin only rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to you. You were pointing at the tiny carousel in the middle and tugging at Jeongin’s sleeve. You dragged him over and pushed a coin into the slot for the ride. The lights lit up and a carnival theme played while you struggled to wedge yourself between the saddle of an elephant and the roof of the carousel. Jeongin sat on the edge, beside the tiger, and chuckled at your flailing limbs.

Hyunjin suppressed his own laugh. You were something special. Just last week, the two of you had made it official and started dating. You had done it in the sweetest possible way.

You had taken him to a local skateboarding shop to help him pick out his first board. Once he had chosen one — the ‘one’ being a light blue deck patterned with multicolored doughnuts — the staff at the shop sent him to the back to try it out. Meanwhile, you made the age-old excuse of needing to use the restroom when you were actually getting the flowers you had hidden in the back.

Hyunjin had turned into a pile of fluff when you gave Jeongin the daisy bouquet and asked if he wanted to officially be your boyfriend. You were so earnest. Jeongin playfully pretended to think it over, a feat Hyunjin knew he wouldn’t have been able to do if he were in his position. There were no fireworks or confetti when Jeongin finally said yes, but the staff did clap and cheer. Jisung looked on with contempt. Hyunjin looked on with envy.

“You know,” Jisung abruptly said, snapping Hyunjin back to the present, “when her last boyfriend broke up with her, she had ice cream for dinner for a week.”

“Oh.”

“You see why I’m being wary of him now?”

Hyunjin did, but Jeongin was different. His previous relationships always ended well, and on one occasion, he remained friends with his ex. He sighed and decided that a change of topic was necessary so he wouldn’t have to potentially endure a tirade. “Did you hear about Minho’s human? The bank he worked at got robbed, and he got held at gunpoint.”

That caught the overprotective Jisung’s ear. “What? Is he okay?”

During Hyunjin’s recountment of Minho’s recountment, the carousel ride ended. You squeezed out of your spot, hitting your head on the roof, and Jeongin pulled you in for a forehead kiss. The world grew brighter when you smiled, he realized.

Hyunjin shadows Jeongin around all day, hoping to learn the reason for the breakup. Unfortunately, Jeongin doesn’t say anything. He does show some regret though, as he scrolls through past messages and old pictures. When he heads to classes, he opts to walk instead of skateboarding like usual and avoids the quad whenever possible.

In the evening, while Jeongin is chewing on his salad like a cow to cud, Hyunjin pays you a visit. He finds in the freezer section of the grocery store with three pints of ice cream in your basket. From the looks of it, you’re about to add another three to your haul. Peanut butter pretzel sounds equal parts delicious and confusing.

Hyunjin studies your expression, frowning at the same time you do. Your eyes are ringed with red, your jaw tight, and your eyebrows seem permanently furrowed. When he follows you back home, he half expects you to start crying on the way, but you hold fast and manage to open a pint of the salted caramel flavor before the tears finally come. There’s no wailing, just sniffling and the sound of you furiously wiping at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. In the midst of it all, you find the strength to reorganize the freezer to make space for the other pints. Something about that makes Hyunjin’s heart drop.

By the time your roommate discovers you in the kitchen, the entire refrigerator has been reorganized and the ice cream finished. You sit in a dark room, your finger hovering above the ‘SEND’ button of a message to Jeongin. Hyunjin can see it if he flies above you: “Can you please just tell me why? You keep saying you did something wrong, but I don’t even know what it is. Please let me decide if it’s worth breaking up over.”

“Rough day?” she gently asks as she flips on the switch.

“Yeah.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Maybe tomorrow. I just wanna process it right now,” you hollowly say. You grab your skateboard — the same black, paint-splattered one you had last year — and unlock the front door. “I’m going out for a ride, but I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Stay safe.”

After you leave, Jisung phases through the kitchen walls and hisses at Hyunjin, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Jeongin?”

He nearly forgot about him. Eating dinner isn’t a dangerous task anyway though. Besides, if Jeongin does get physically harmed somehow, Hyunjin will feel an echo of the pain. Hyunjin glances at the door, and Jisung shakes his head.

“I’ll take care of her. Go back to Jeongin, and make sure he’s okay. You can’t keep leaving him all the time.”

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“Good.”

Hyunjin reluctantly goes back to Jeongin, who is still eating his salad. His resolve from last night is clearly gone as evidenced by his melancholy expression as he scrolls through even more photos. The one of you in mid-air makes him clutch his phone.

“Let me get one of you when you’re really high up,” Jeongin suggested. He was comfortable gliding around on a skateboard now, but nowhere comfortable enough to try any tricks. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop you from trying to get him to learn. The “pop shove it” was your favorite, solely for the amount of height you could get.

“Okay.”

As you did over and over again for your enthusiastic boyfriend who was unfortunately not that great of a photographer, Hyunjin observed from a rooftop behind Jeongin. Sometimes you looked like you were flying. He could imagine wings protruding from your back, and if the sun hit you just right, there appeared to be a halo as well.

“I got one!” Jeongin exclaimed as he held up his device to you. “Look.”

Hyunjin couldn’t see for himself, but your mouth dropped into an ‘o’ once you took a first glance. A flustered smile made its way onto your face, and everything about you turned soft.

“This looks amazing,” you said. You sidled up to him and rested your cheek against his shoulder, turning your head towards him. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air for a few seconds as both Hyunjin and Jeongin tried to process them. This was the first time you had ever said them, and it came seemingly out of nowhere. Hyunjin recovered first.

“Say ‘I love you’ back, you moron,” Hyunjin whispered, like Jeongin would be able to hear him from this distance. “‘I love you too.’”

“I wanted to say it first,” Jeongin finally said. “Ugh, I had it all planned out too. We were supposed to get doughnuts after this, and I was going to buy you one of those heart-shaped ones.”

You kissed him on the cheek and intertwined your fingers with his. “We can still do that.”

At the doughnut shop, he said the words second, and you kissed him again, leaving a crystal of glaze on the corner of his mouth. Hyunjin licked his lips as if you had left it on him instead.

“Did you find out?” Jisung asks when Hyunjin leaves Jeongin to check up on you. You’re skating around the city, making sharp swerves and weaving in-between lampposts. Jisung is trailing behind you in the sky, but he slows when he sees Hyunjin approaching.

“No, but—”

“Then go back to him. Hyunjin,” Jisung sighs, “I know you care about her, but she’s not your human. Jeongin’s your responsibility.”

“I know but—”

“Go back. And I’m telling you this not as your friend but as your senior. You’re a guardian angel, and you need to take your responsibilities seriously. I’ll get the Archangel involved if I have to. Do you want to get Seungminned?”

The threat of the Archangel strangely doesn’t scare him anymore, however. In fact, the Archangel being involved may solve many of his current issues.

“I’ll find you again when I find out,” Hyunjin slowly says.

Jisung nods in approval before racing after you again. Hyunjin heads to Heaven, not to keep an eye over his human but to become human.

Ten months into Jeongin’s relationship with you, Hyunjin asked Minho, “Is it possible to give up your divinity?”

Minho gave Hyunjin a curious look. “Is being a guardian angel that taxing for you? You haven’t even experienced a full lifespan yet. I know, twenty year-olds are annoying, but it’s not nearly as bad as forty year-olds and their mid-life crisis.”

“I’m just curious. Or, as a last resort,” he added, hoping that Minho would stop being suspicious if he joked about it. “My human’s been making some dumb choices.”

A lie, but Minho fell for it.

“I told you he was going to be a troublemaker!” he cackled. He sympathetically patted Hyunjin’s back. “If I’m being honest, I thought about it a few times. I always get assigned to the troublemakers. Probably because the higher-ups hate me for not tolerating their BS. They’re always playing favorites. Anyway, the easiest way is to get expelled by the Archangel. It’s happened a few times before.”

“Can’t you just ask him?”

Minho smirked. “You don’t think other angels have tried that? He only expels the ones who don’t want to be. It’s supposed to be a punishment.”

“What’s the hard way then?”

“Same thing minus the Archangel getting involved: your wings getting cut off,” he matter-of-factly answered. “The halo will break once your wings are detached. It’s only been done once, by the way.”

Hyunjin absentmindedly rubbed the area where the bones of his wings met with his shoulder blades. All he needed were two clean cuts across his practically impenetrable back.

“How do you do that?”

“With the Archangel’s sword. Another angel has to cut it though; you can’t do it yourself.”

The Archangel would likely banish him to Hell for even asking about his weapon. If Hyunjin ever did manage to steal the sword away, Jisung would never agree to it. He couldn’t just ask any angel to help him.

“How do you know about all this?” Hyunjin asked.

Minho hesitated, something he rarely did. He quickly recovered, hiding his sudden apprehension with his usual devil-may-care nonchalance. “I can’t give away all of my secrets.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Friends. The word hung in the air like the sun, and Hyunjin knew that Minho would tell him because underneath all of his bluster was loneliness. Because no one liked Minho, or if they did, they still avoided him anyway.

“Yeah, we are,” Minho answered, smiling for a second before a strange expression crossed over his face, pride mixed with a touch of sadness. “Do you really think the Archangel would have expelled one of his favorite guardian angels that easily?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Seungmin. He asked me to cut his wings for him.”

“I need you to cut my wings,” are Hyunjin’s first words to Minho after not speaking to him for days.

To his credit, Minho is only speechless for a few seconds. The dove in his hand pecks at him for more headpats before he recovers. “Well, do you have the sword?”

“No, but I think I can get it. When I do though, would you do it? You’re the only one I trust.”

Minho sighs and tosses the bird out of Heaven, grimacing a bit when he hears it squawk. When he faces Hyunjin, he smiles the same smile he did when he talked about Seungmin. “It’s always me, huh? I’ll do you one better. I’ll steal the sword for you. The Archangel’s been pissing me off anyway.”

For once, Hyunjin’s thoughts are not on you but his friend. He imagined that Minho would be willing, but perhaps he’s too willing. “Are you trying to get expelled as well? We can go together.”

“No, I like being immortal. I hate all of the BS I get put through sometimes, but the Archangel can’t kick me out. He swore an oath to me a long time ago before he got promoted, and it’s pretty much unbreakable. Besides, even Heaven needs a scapegoat.”

That explains why virtually no angels interact with Minho, Hyunjin being the exception. He has never heard of the Archangel being oathsworn, though it seems likely that the Archangel wants to keep that a secret.

“How are you going to get it?” Hyunjin asks. “How did Seungmin even get it? The Archangel always has it with him.”

“Seungmin was one of his favorites,” Minho reminds him. “He had easy access to him, and the Archangel trusted him enough to let him borrow it for ‘a study.’ Don’t worry about me though. Just wait for me on Earth. Somewhere where no one goes. I’ll find you, slice off your wings, and the Archangel won’t even know what happened to you.”

“That’s not possible. He always keeps it on him.”

Minho shrugs, a gleam in his eyes. “I’ve done it before. Why do you think I’m the scapegoat?”

Seungmin. For Minho and now Hyunjin, being Seungminned didn’t mean being expelled for being frivolous anymore; it meant leaving of your own accord.

“What happened to him?” Hyunjin asked. “Why didn’t the Archangel grant his divinity back? Someone should have spotted him on Earth.”

Minho’s wry grin was back. “You think the Archangel wanted everyone to find out the golden boy of Heaven no longer wanted to be an angel? Plenty of angels already saw him roaming Earth. It was easier to let everyone think that Seungmin was banished. So when they saw him on Earth, he was just a fallen angel, nothing important.” He nudged Hyunjin’s arm, and the solemn atmosphere vanished. “A troublemaking human isn’t all that bad. Like I said, the twenties are annoying, but they’re manageable. Is he one of those partying types?”

“He goes out sometimes,” Hyunjin carefully replied. Jeongin liked hanging out with his friends and you — mostly you, now that Hyunjin thought about it — but he wasn’t getting blackout drunk every night. At least, Hyunjin hoped he wasn’t. He usually watched over you if you were ever in the vicinity. “Speaking of which, I should check up on him.”

Minho said his goodbyes, and Hyunjin flew back to Earth once he saw that you weren’t with Jeongin. You were studying at your desk, rolling a pen between your fingers, reading through a document on your laptop. The desk light casted a warm glow on your face. You frowned, and your lower lip swelled outwards.

He wished he were human.

Just as Minho said, Hyunjin waits for him to arrive in a secluded part of the university campus. The building rooftop is devoid of anyone, and the area surrounding it is empty as well. The evening turns into night, then night into the early morning when the sky begins lightening. Still, Minho has not come.

He distantly wonders how Jeongin is faring and his promise to Jisung. When he’s human, he’ll ask Jeongin directly, maybe in disguise of a survey: “Why did you break up with your last partner?” Even to him, it sounds stupid. However, that’s not the real reason why he’s giving up his divinity, so it hardly matters to him. Jisung is resourceful; he’ll find out eventually.

Finally, when the sun peeks over the horizon, Minho descends from Heaven, a familiar silver sword in his hand. He lands beside Hyunjin, a triumphant smile on his face. But his usual humor has been replaced with solemnity.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks as he rests the blade on the top of Hyunjin’s wings.

He has never felt so sure of anything in his life. “Yes.”

“It’s going to hurt.”

“Then make it quick.”

Searing pain shoots through his body as the sword pierces through the thin skin and into the bone. The process is not as nearly as seamless as Hyunjin hoped it would be, and Minho breathes heavily as he pushes the blade down. Bones snap, feathers drift to the floor, and blood trickles down his back. The pain only grows greater near the end, but Hyunjin grits his teeth and keeps quiet. Dawn breaks when his wings finally fall to the floor, no longer white but splattered with red. Soon they fade into dust, and the remnants scatter into the wind. His golden halo shatters into sunlight. The world dulls as the last of his powers disappear, but everything feels much better than when he was an angel.

“Thank you,” he whispers to Minho, who he cannot even look at anymore. His eyes would be burned.

“You’re fallen, not quite mortal and not quite divine. You won’t be affected by all of an angel’s power.”

When Hyunjin cautiously glances at him, Minho waves the bloody sword at him. “See?”

“Yeah.” He wanted humanity, but this is good enough for him. He just needs you to be able to see him, hear him, touch him.

“I need to go back before Heaven becomes Hell, but find Seungmin if you can. He can help you figure things out. Last I heard, he’s living somewhere in the mountains.”

“Thank you,” he repeats. “Minho, I can’t even put it into words about how much this means to me. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

Minho pats his shoulder before stripping off his clean shirt. “Clean yourself before you leave. No one wants to witness a walking crime scene this early in the morning.”

When he flies back to Heaven, the last thing Hyunjin sees are his wings, still pure white.

“Hey,” you said as you laced your fingers with Jeongin’s. He had just finished class, and you had waited for him outside the building. Hyunjin had sat on the other end of the bench, savoring the proximity. That was the closest he would ever get to you. “Are you busy tonight? The skate shop just announced — literally an hour ago, those jerks — that they were doing a midnight drop, and I kind of want a new deck.”

“Ugh, I’ve been meaning to buy new trucks, but I have to meet up with my group tonight. Send me pictures though.”

Disappointment only momentarily flooded through Hyunjin. If it was anything like the last two meetups, it would be at the library, and the library was a safe place. Jeongin would be fine there. Hyunjin would be free to shadow you as you went to the skate shop.

“I can get it for you,” you offered.

He shook his head. “It’s fine. Maybe I’ll just wait for a sale.”

“Don’t be surprised if I do get you new trucks,” you warned. You let go of his hand and held his arm. “I still owe you for last month’s dinner.”

Jeongin shook his head again, a smile making its way onto his face. “You don’t owe me anything but a kiss.”

“Flirt,” you laughed as you pressed your lips to his cheek. “Never change, Yang Jeongin.”

That night at the skate shop, Hyunjin hovered above you as you stood in line, chatting with others. There were no unscrupulous characters around, but he stayed with you, only going back to Jeongin when Jisung insisted. However, by then, Hyunjin had already seen you eyeing the shiny teal trucks through the window. Hyunjin knew nothing about skateboards even after all those months, but you seemed pleased by them.

“You’re only getting trucks for sure?” your brand new acquaintance asked. “This is, like, the biggest drop they’ve ever done.”

You shrugged. “I’m kind of on the fence about the decks I saw on the email. I don’t know. Maybe wheels too?”

Meanwhile, Jisung hissed, “Hyunjin, go before something happens. What if a fight breaks out?”

Hyunjin sincerely doubted that one would happen at the library. He lingered around, taking his time unfolding his wings and stretching them.

“Your boyfriend’s lucky,” your acquaintance sighed.

“Nah, I’m the lucky one.”

Daisies, that’s what he needs right now. Choosing the rooftop of a building was not a smart decision, but the access door is thankfully unlocked, and Hyunjin races down all of the emergency stairs. However, with no form of currency on him, Hyunjin heads to the quad, hoping that he can pull up some dandelions for you. You need to be supported, and bright yellow flowers are just the thing.

What he doesn’t expect though, is to find you doing pop shove its at your usual spot. It’s so early in the day; did you even go back to your apartment to sleep?

“Good morning,” he calls as he walks closer. He waves at you, and you can see him! You tentatively wave back and give him a halfhearted smile. “How are you today? You look beautiful.”

“Thanks, and I’m fine,” you politely reply as you take a step back away from him. “What about you?”

Hyunjin curses in his head and takes another step towards you. “I’m good. Really good, actually. I was wondering if you could teach me how to skateboard. I’m new here, and skateboarding seems like an efficient way to get around.”

You flinch at his words, and he desperately wants to take them back. How did Jeongin do it? Why do his statements come out so stiff? “You seem pretty good at it.”

“Are you not cold?” you blurt out. Hyunjin curses again as he realizes that he’s shirtless. His old one was stained, and Minho’s was as well as the result of his cleanup. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. “You know, I have to get going, but it was nice meeting you.”

“Hyunjin. My name’s Hyunjin.”

“Nice meeting you, Hyunjin.”

You grab your board and immediately head off to the direction of your apartment. Hyunjin is tempted to follow, but he stays where he is. A bad first impression isn’t the end of the world. The only thing holding him back is his lack of a shirt.

He wanders through the quad, scanning the grass for some flowers. Most of them are the white, fluffy dandelions, but he needs the bright yellow version. However, he takes the white ones anyway in case he can’t find any. The wind scatters the seeds, and he—

“Hyunjin, I told you not to come back.”

Jisung.

Hyunjin turns around, dropping his bouquet onto the ground. To his horror, not only is Jisung present but also the Archangel. His sword is strapped to his side like usual, not a blood splatter tainting it. Minho did an excellent job of cleaning up the crime scene.

“Jisung, Archangel,” Hyunjin nervously greets. The Archangel frightens him now. “How can I help you?”

“Jisung, why did you bring me here?” the Archangel asks. “I have other things to attend to.”

“He’s abandoned his human too many times, and I don’t think he’s fit to be a guardian angel anymore.”

The Archangel grasps the hilt of his sword and studies Hyunjin, up and down, back and forth. He circles him, and Hyunjin can almost feel his mortality-divinity shining through his body. Jisung hasn’t noticed yet, but there is no doubt the Archangel hasn’t.

“Normally,” the Archangel begins, “the punishment for not fulfilling your duties as a guardian angel is being expelled from Heaven. But you have already fallen.”

“What?” comes Jisung’s shocked voice.

“It was a mistake,” Hyunjin tries. Minho’s words ring in his ear: He only expels the ones who don’t want to be. “I thought I wanted humanity, but I’ve realized that being a guardian angel is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Please. Grant me my divinity back. I will never abandon my human again. I will swear an oath if I have to.”

The Archangel smiles with no teeth, and a chill runs down Hyunjin’s spine. “I’m in a forgiving mood today, so I will do just as you ask. Your divinity will be granted back, but you will no longer be a guardian angel. I’m stripping you of those powers and those duties. You will be replaced immediately. It was my mistake for tasking you with such a large responsibility when you weren’t ready yet.”

With just a snap of the Archangel’s fingers, Hyunjin’s senses sharpen, and the world comes hurtling at him. Nothing is dull anymore, but everything feels so dark and wrong. You will never be able to see him, hear him, or talk to him again. And he will never be able to either. Power surges inside of him, and new wings burst through his shoulder blades, fanning out once they reappear. A silver halo hangs over his head. There is no physical pain into becoming immortal again, yet he wishes there was something. Everything he and Minho did was erased with ease.

Hyunjin swallows the lump in his throat. “Thank you,” he chokes out.

“You’re very welcome. Come along now. Only guardian angels are allowed to be on Earth.”

Hyunjin follows the Archangel back to Heaven while Jisung goes after you. The Archangel loudly deliberates on who he should be replaced with, and Hyunjin knows that his request was not granted with kindness. The Archangel informs that he will be a messenger again. Hyunjin barely hears him as he takes one last look at Earth. Jeongin is there. Jisung is there. You are there.

Hyunjin avoids Minho’s eyes as he flies inside the realm behind the Archangel and hides among the rest of the regular angels until he is called to send a message. The higher-ups recognize him, make snide remarks about his demotion, and make pitiful faces at him. He barely registers them. There is a hollowness in him, and no matter how many memories he recalls, it isn’t enough to fill the void.

A few weeks later, Jisung approaches him, but even he stays a healthy distance away. “Hyunjin.” The disdain is clear.

“Jisung.”

“You knew about the reason all along, didn’t you? You were there when it happened.”

“When what happened?”

Realization dawns upon Jisung, and he shakes his head in disgust. “I should have known. You weren’t with him that night because you left him like you always did! You could have done something. Make him fall off his chair or something. Make the girl lose her balance. Instead, both of our humans suffered because you weren’t there.”

“What happened?”

“A girl from his group project randomly kissed him, and he thought he had been leading her on and cheating on his own girlfriend, so he broke up with her because he thought that would be the right thing to do instead of just telling her what actually happened. They’re back together now because he finally got the nerve to give her closure. It took nearly a month. They were miserable for a month. All because of you.”

It stings. “They’re okay now, right?”

“They’re fine, no thanks to you.” Just when Hyunjin thinks he’s going to leave, he takes a step forward, lips curled into sneer. “You know, angels and humans aren’t allowed to be with each other. It’s been forbidden for millenia.”

“I know,” he whispers. “But I loved her, and I had to try.”

“She would have never chosen you anyway.”

He never had a chance, did he?

~ ad.gray

Yes, you did! I remembered it and wondered if you were going to come back! Hope you enjoyed this! <3

#stray kids #skz #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #stray kids angst #skz angst #hyunjin angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin x reader #guardian angel au #anniversary special #20210816

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

Nervous

Hello! This is honestly just a bunch of fluff (a tiny bit of angst bc Spencer worries about everything) and the reader being very nervous! I am currently writing a sequel to take place directly after this one! Read part two here!

Summary: Reader is arrested by the BAU! Little do they know, she is dating the one agent who is currently on medical leave...

warnings: none!

Word Count: 4954

“Are you sure you can pick her up today?” You are currently running around your apartment, phone held to your ear with your shoulder. You have to be at work in fifteen minutes, but first you have to drop your daughter off at school, and you’re running very late.

“Babe, yes. I’m almost completely healed and I don’t go back to work until tomorrow. I’ll pick her up after school and then meet you at your apartment when you’re done working. Okay?” Thank God for Spencer Reid. He has been on medical leave for 5 days, slowly going insane. But, it meant more time for you and Lily to spend with him, so you’re not complaining.

“That’s perfect, thank you so much! I gotta go, I love you!” You are in such a daze, you don’t stop to think about the three words that just came out of your mouth. You hang up before Spencer can respond as you wrestle with your six year old to put shoes on. Grabbing both of your coats, you run out the door.

You met Spencer Reid 9 months ago when he came into the hospital you work in with a concussion and some pretty bad bruises. It was really a chance meeting. Normally, you don’t even deal with patients because you work in research. But, your best friend asked you to run some lab results to a patient’s room and you couldn’t say no. Dr. Spencer Reid happened to be that patient.

He wasn’t supposed to be in the room, but apparently something happened with the CT schedule, and he was done earlier than expected. So, instead of simply dropping off forms in an empty room, you hit a man with a door. Why he was standing behind the door is still a mystery to you, but you felt awful. This man is in the hospital and to make matters worse, you come along and hit him! With a door! You offered to get him some coffee as an apology, and in his concussed state he said “Only if we can go together.” You’ve since realized that was smoother than he normally acts, but you don’t care. He is the most lovable man you’ve ever met.

You met up for coffee three days later, and have been dating ever since. He met your daughter, Lily, on the second date. They clicked instantly. You knew then and there that you would love this man forever. You have not, however, actually said I love you before this morning. But, you’re still in too much of a rush to stop and think about it… or even realize it happened.

You pull into the parking garage at the hospital 7 minutes late. Honestly, better than you expected. The morning flies by as you work on research grants and hospital studies. All in all, a pretty average day. That is, until you walk back into the building from your lunch break.

You don’t get a lot of visitors in the research wing, so it’s strange to see two pretty official looking individuals at the front desk. It’s even stranger to hear your name come out of one of their mouths.

“Hi there. We are Agents Morgan and Rossi from the FBI. We’re looking Ms. Y/N L/N. Is she here?” That must have been Morgan talking.

Spencer has told you a lot about his team. You feel like you know them all already with how many stories he’s told you. You’ve been hesitant to meet them though because of Lily. You don’t want her to get too attached to him and his friends if things were to go sideways. You haven’t really dated anyone since her father, so you’re a bit nervous. Spencer, of course, completely understands. He just wants you to be happy. It’s hard not to love him even more at the thought.

You are immediately thrown into a panic at the sight of the two agents. Your thoughts are running wild with possibilities. They must be here because something happened to Spencer. Wait. That doesn’t make sense. He’s not even working today.

Your panicked train of thought pulls to a stop when the two agents walk up to you. “Ms. L/N? Can we speak with you for a moment?” You nod, leading them toward your office.

“Of course. My office is just down the hall.” You can’t help but feel nervous at the prospect of meeting Spencer’s coworkers without him. Especially if it has to do with a case they’re working. These are the people he loves most in the world. They are his family. What if they don’t like you? What if they think you’re an idiot? What if they think Spencer can do better? It also doesn’t help that you know they can tell you’re nervous because you know they are profilers. You sit down behind your desk, offering them the seats on the opposite side.

“Ms. L/N, you’re in charge of the research department, correct?” Rossi says it like a question, but he clearly knows the answer.

“That’s right.” You are trying everything you can to get your nerves to settle, but it just isn’t working. You’re basically lying to two human lie detectors, even if it is just by omission.

“So if items were to go missing from this laboratory, you would be responsible for reporting it.” It was Morgan who spoke this time. It’s hard for you to follow their line of questioning. What would go missing? It’s not like you wouldn’t notice if a fume hood suddenly disappeared.

“I suppose so, although it depends on what items. We don’t have a specific inventory of commonly used products like syringes and gauze, we just order more when we get low.” You can’t decide which agent to focus on. Your eyes are flicking nervously between both of them.

“What about human tissue?” When the words come out of Morgan’s mouth, you freeze for just a second. You don’t have any human tissue in the lab, so how would it go missing? Of course, the profilers take the delay in your response to mean something other than confusion.

“We- we don’t use human tissue in this specific laboratory. We focus on small animal models. The other research lab is responsible for human tissue protocols.” You stutter through your words under the harsh glares of the two agents. It is really not helping your nerves.

“Then how do you explain this?” Rossi slides a paper across your desk. It’s housed in a large plastic bag with “EVIDENCE” across the top in big, block letters. It’s a form you have never seen before. The kind someone would fill out to transfer human tissue between labs. Your hands shake as you hold the paper, slowly trying to figure out what it is. You almost puke when you reach the bottom. It has your signature as an approval of the request. You drop the paper as if it has burned you.

“I’ve never- I didn’t- how did-” You’re cut off before you can try to finish your sentence, but you don’t hear what they are saying. You feel the cold click of metal around your wrists, tight enough to just pinch your skin. They lead you back out of the building, to a waiting SUV. You can’t help but be grateful that nobody was there to witness your arrest.

The ride to Quantico is silent. You keep trying to figure out how someone could have signed your name on that form, but you can’t focus. Your mind keeps drifting to memories with Spencer.

You remember your first date in the coffee shop a block away from the hospital. He ordered a black coffee only to pour in an exorbitant amount of sugar. He blushed slightly, as if he was embarrassed by his drink preferences, only for his features to transform into a soft smile as you did exactly the same thing. The two of you talked for hours, only ending the date when you had to go pick up Lily.

You remember running into him in the park with Lily, what you would come to refer to as your second date. He looked ethereal sitting at a table playing chess. Lily ran up to him, or rather the chess board he was sitting in front of, before you could stop her. She wanted to know what the horsey was for. You watched as he patiently explained to the five year old that it was a knight responsible for defending the king.

He told her how it moves on the board. He told her how it was special because it is the only piece that can jump over other pieces. He must have spent 15 minutes talking to her about this one piece. And she was enthralled. When he was done, he looked around to find the child’s parents only to meet your eye. You’ll never forget the way his smile grew when he realized Lily was yours. The three of you spent the rest of the day in the park, playing chess, walking around the pond, and getting to know each other.

You remember the look in his eyes right after he kissed you the first time. You remember how worried you were the first time he was injured on a case. You remember Lily asking you if he could be her daddy, and crying yourself to sleep that night because you wanted that too, more than anything, and you were so scared it wasn’t going to happen.

Then you finally remember he’s picking Lily up from school today. Suddenly, the car ride isn’t so quiet anymore.

“I need to call someone.” The words come out frantic and rushed. You are absolutely sure the expression on your face screams crazy, but this is about your kid, so you really don’t care. You need to call Spencer. Then he’ll come fix this. Explain how you couldn’t possibly be involved. The agent’s response is shorter than you expected.

“Why?” Rossi sounds skeptical when he asks it. You would later suppose that he had a reason to be skeptical of you. Right now though? You didn’t do anything wrong so the whole innocent until proven guilty thing feels a little fake to you at the moment.

“My boyfriend is picking up my daughter from school. I need to call him.” You don’t really know how to tell them said boyfriend is one Dr. Spencer Reid. You weren’t supposed to meet his friends yet and definitely not without him. You aren’t really in the right headspace to be deciding if right now is the best moment to out your relationship.

“If he’s already planning on picking her up, you shouldn’t need to call him.” It feels to you at this moment that they don’t even believe you have a child. Of course, they must know because they have the one and only Penelope Garcia to find out every little thing about you. Before you can say anything else, they are dragging you out of the SUV and into the building. You are pushed through security into an elevator that takes you to the fifth floor. The BAU. You thought the first time you visited Spencer’s work would be a happier occasion. And that he would be here. The whole situation would actually be kind of funny if you weren’t so worried and nervous.

The first thing you say when you are lead through the very intimidating glass doors is “JJ.” You would come to understand why that might earns some stares. The whole room is looking at you as if you have grown another head.

“How do you know my name?” That’s a loaded question. Spencer has showed you pictures of his godson, Henry. JJ happened to be in some of those pictures as he is in fact, her son. Of course, you can’t really articulate that because you are too stressed and nervous to form full sentences. It takes a lot out of a person to be arrested, dragged from their place of work, shoved in a car, driven two hours through DC traffic, and then pulled into the FBI building as a suspect.

Instead of properly calming yourself down until you can form a complete sentence, your eyes go wide and you say “Henry” as if that is enough of an explanation. If looks could kill, you would be dead.

“How do you know my son’s name?” JJ’s words are so harsh, you physically flinch.

“I.. it’s just that… You… Well… I-” You are a loss for words, yet again. You didn’t expect for Spencer’s best friend to ever look at you with such disgust. It’s honestly a little overwhelming to think the people he calls family all currently hate you. Even if they don’t really know who you are.

“Maybe a few hours in here will jog your memory.” And with that you’re left alone to sit in a cold metal chair and stare at your reflection.

Throughout your relationship, Spencer has tried not to worry. You frequently come home from work a bit later than you originally planned, especially if you feel like you got a late start. So, when you don’t enter your apartment right at 5:30, he doesn’t think anything of it. When 6:00 rolls around, he texts you. At 6:30 he calls. By the time it reaches 7:00 and he still hasn’t heard from you, he’s actively pacing your small living room. When his most recent call goes to voicemail, he breaks. He packs up Lily’s stuff and the two of them are on the way to Quantico, finding you being the only thing on his mind.

He replays his favorite moments with you in his mind as he drives from your DC apartment to Quantico. Normally, he’d take the metro, but if you really are missing it’s safer for Lily in the car.

He remembers the look on your face when you realized you hit him with a door. He couldn’t imagine a more beautiful person. You looked so guilty, he felt the need to hug you to tell you it was okay. It was a foreign feeling for him. He’s never been one to physically comfort people. Maybe it was the concussion. It was definitely the concussion that gave him the courage to ask you to coffee.

He remembers the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach when he watched you pour almost as much sugar as him into your coffee. The soft smile on your face as the two of you spent hours talking about anything he could think of to keep the conversation from ending.

He remembers the utter joy he felt upon realizing the five year old who inquired about the horsey on the chess board is your daughter. He remembers how he felt when he looked up, expecting to find an annoyed parent given that he just lectured a five year old on one chess piece for 15 minutes, but was instead met with your kind smile and loving eyes. He loves Lily just as much, if not more than he loves you.

He remembers how you hung up the phone this morning before he could say “I love you too.” And now the thoughts he’s tried so hard to block out are circling in his mind. The words repeating in his head, over and over. What if I never see her again? What if I can’t tell her I love her?

He pulls into the garage, carrying Lily so he can run faster into the building. He puts her down when they finally reach the elevator. She’s been surprisingly calm despite Spencer’s nervous attitude.

“Spencie, where is Momma?” Spencer’s heart constricts at the sound of her sweet voice. He doesn’t know where you are, and it terrifies him.

“We are going to find out! How would you like to see my desk? You can play with the cube I showed you at home!” He pulls a Rubik’s cube out of his satchel, placing it in Lily’s small hands. He guides Lily to his desk, telling her to stay there while he looks for his friends. She looks so tiny in his desk chair, he would stop to take a picture if his phone had that feature.

He finds the team in the round table room. His eyes scan the room, landing on JJ’s concerned expression last. He’s surprised to find Will in the room as well. JJ notices him before anyone else.

“Spence, thank God you’re here. We need fresh eyes.” Before he can protest, Morgan is filling him in on the events that have unfolded.

“We brought a suspect in from DC, and she knew JJ.” Spencer’s eyes go wide. If the team is in trouble, that could be why Y/N was taken.

“When I asked her how she knew me, her only response was ‘Henry.’ Something doesn’t add up.” Movement in the doorway catches everyone’s eye.

“Spencie, did you find Momma yet?” Lily stands in the doorway, looking straight at Spencer.

“Not yet sweetheart. I have some cookies in my bag, why don’t you go back to my desk and eat them, okay?”

“Can I have two?” The little girl holds up two of her tiny fingers, unaware of the confused glances from every adult in the room that isn’t Spencer.

“Of course, sweet pea. Whatever you want. You can even spin around in my chair!” The child nods before running back to Spencer’s desk. Spencer turns around to find all eyes on him. The entire team wears similar expressions of shock and awe.

“Spencie?” Derek questions the nickname.

“Sweetheart?” JJ’s more focused on how Spencer responded.

“Who the heck was that 'sweet pea’ and why have you kept her from me?” Garcia is glaring at Spencer for hiding such a cutie pie from her for however long.

“She’s why I’m here. Well not her, her mother. We’ve been dating for the last 9 months. I picked up Lily from school today. We were supposed to meet back at her apartment, but she never came home. She’s not answering my calls and I don’t know where she could be.” Spencer breaks down as he tries to explain what’s going on. He can’t imagine a world without you in it.

“Reid, give Garcia her phone number to track her location. This could all be related to our case. If someone is targeting the BAU, we will find them.” Hotch’s no nonsense tone calms everyone in the room. Again, movement in the doorway catches everyone’s attention.

“Sir, she keeps saying she can explain everything. I know you said 3 hours, but I think she’s ready now.”

“Thank you, Anderson. We’ll be right there.” The agent leaves without another word. Hotch turns back to continue filling Spencer in on the case. “Reid, we’ve got a suspect in custody. She doesn’t match the profile, but we think she knows something.”

“She mentioned a boyfriend in the car. He might know something too.” Morgan pipes in as well.

“I want to talk to her. If she knows where Y/N is, I have to talk to her.” Spencer is out of the room before anyone can stop him. He’s practically running across the bullpen to get to the interrogation room.

“Y/N?” Morgan questions to the agents left in the round table room.

You are so cold. They must have the air turned down to put you on edge. You have finally calmed yourself down enough to form actual sentences instead of useless mumbling.

“Please. Let me explain! I can tell you everything. Well, not everything, because I don’t know how my signature ended up on that paper, but I can tell you about JJ! And Henry! Let me explain!” You never thought about how weird it would be to know someone could be watching your every move. You feel like you’re talking to nobody as you beg for them to let you explain.

The door flies open with so much force, you fall out of your chair in shock. There are hands on you, pulling you to your feet before you’ve even registered hitting the ground.

“Where is sh- Y/N?” Spencer’s tone of voice changes so quickly your brain can’t follow. You just look into his before you burst into tears.

“Oh thank God. Spencer, I was so scared. I was so nervous when Derek and Rossi came to interview me. I didn’t want them to hate me, you know? Even though they didn’t know who I was. And then I saw JJ, and I got even worse. I mean, she’s your best friend! And she sounded so angry, which was my fault, but I couldn’t even form words to explain myself because I was so sure these people- the people you consider family- were going to hate me and I made everything so much worse. But I-” Spencer knows if he doesn’t cut you off, you’ll ramble endlessly. It’s always like that when you spend too much time alone. As if all the energy you could’ve spent talking to someone pours out of you all at once.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay. We can explain everything. I’m so happy to see you. To know you’re okay. God, I love you too.” You turn your tear stained face to look up at him.

“Wha- oh my God. I said that. I didn’t even realize I said it. But it’s true. I love you so much. I can’t imagine a world without you. That’s why I was so nervous about meeting the team. And they wouldn’t let me call you, so I couldn’t ask you what to do.” The two of you continue trying to fill each other in on what has lead you to this moment.

Hotch and JJ make their way into the room without either of you noticing. They both sit down before either speaks. “Reid, I’m going to need you to leave the room.” Spencer turned around with you still in his arms, your head pulled tight to his chest. He glares at his boss before responding. “No. She didn’t do this. The dates from the case file you gave me, they don’t line up. April 17th, we watched the new episode of Doctor Who and spent the rest of the night discussing theories. April 20th, we went to dinner to celebrate Lily’s sixth birthday. April 22nd we watched Tangled with Lily until she fell asleep and then we…” He trailed off, turning a bright shade of pink. You wiggled in his arms, trying to hide the blush on your face as well.

“Spence, where’s Lily?” You know he needs to leave if you are ever actually going to get out of this room.

“She’s at my desk. She looked so tiny in my chair.” He practically has heart eyes as he thinks back to where he left your little girl.

“Why don’t you go tell her you found me? I’ll be okay.” You wipe the remaining tears from your eyes as you sit back down in the cold metal chair. Spencer looks as though he would rather read Twilight again than leave you, but he reluctantly walks out of the room.

You start rambling before the agents get a chance to ask you a question.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve probably wasted so much of your time. I just freaked out when I realized I was meeting Spence’s family. That’s why I know your son’s name.” You turn slightly to look at JJ. “He talks about him all the time, and he’s shown me pictures. I’m so so sorry that you had to worry about your child’s safety because of me. I was just nervous to meet you. That’s why I haven’t met you yet actually. Because I didn’t want Lily to get too attached if something happened and we broke up. Not that I can imagine breaking up with Spencer. I would spend the rest of my life with him if he gave me the chance.” You can feel the tears brimming again. “I really don’t know why my name is on that paper. I never would have signed it! My lab doesn’t use human tissues.” You try to stress that point.

“Ms. L/N, we believe you. We never thought you were responsible, but it was a suspicious situation. You can never be too careful in our line of work.” Hotch still looks extremely serious, but his tone is slightly more relaxed than when he threw you into this room.

“Of course. I would’ve thought I was guilty if I didn’t know the truth. Is there anything I can do to help?” You are so relieved to know they don’t think you’re a crazy murderer.

“We need to ask you a few questions about the people who work in your lab.”

“Oh. Okay.” You have to actively force yourself not to start rambling again.

“Do you know any of these people?” The agent shows you three pictures of young women. They couldn’t be more than 25.

“No…” You can’t put your finger on it, but they look familiar.

“But?” JJ encourages you to continue.

“I’m not sure. They look familiar for some reason.” All three women have brunette hair and green eyes. Their face shapes are even shockingly similar.

“Do you know anyone who looks like these women?” You don’t know how they know that, but you do. They’ve planted the seed, and it instantly grew into a massive oak.

“I do! Her name is Renee. Um... Renee Watkins. She works in the hospital, in the lab where they run blood tests.” You look at the agents with hope in your eyes. Maybe now they’ll let you leave. They both stand up without saying anything else. Hotch leaves first. JJ stares at you for a minute.

“I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just, you’re his best friend. If you hate me, we won’t work. He cares about all of you way too much for me to get in the way of that.” You honestly still feel awful about the unnecessary fear you’ve caused her and her family.

“He cares about you too. He’s been happier than I’ve seen him in years. I knew something was up, but I didn’t want to push him.” You can’t keep your smile off your face at her words. “Let’s forget about all of it. I’m just going to focus on the relief of knowing nobody is after my son.”

“Thank you. I really am so sorry though.” You feel the need to keep apologizing.

“Really, it’s fine. Come with me, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

JJ leads you back to the bullpen. Right as you turn the corner, you can spot Spence playing with Lily and Henry. He’s captivated their attention with a magic trick.

“He’s so good with them.” Almost involuntarily, your hand brushes over your stomach.

“He’s always wanted to be a father.” JJ eyes your hand before giving you a rather pointed look.

“Oh! No, I’m not pregnant.” You let your arm fall back to your side. “He’s just so good with Lily; she asked me if he could be her dad.” You can feel the tears coming again. “I just know that one day I will have that man’s babies.” JJ snorts and suddenly the two of you break out laughing. Your laughter makes enough noise to capture Spencer’s attention, two little pairs of eyes following his lead. All three of them are suddenly running across the room to you and JJ.

Lily jumps into your arms, much as Henry does to JJ. You pull her close, leaning into Spencer as his arms circle around you both. The moment is interrupted when Penelope Garcia comes running into the room.

“I’ve got him. Shane Harrison, 28. He dated Renee Watkins in high school. He was recently fired from his position in the human tissues lab at Children’s National Hospital. There are reports of him breaking in, although nothing was reported stolen due to falsified transfer documents.”

“What made him start killing?” Morgan asks while you and JJ desperately cover the children’s ears.

“Renee recently got engaged. She posted all about her new fiancée on social media. I already texted you the address.” JJ says a rushed goodbye to Will and the team is out the door. Lily runs back over Spencer’s desk with Henry so she can show him the Rubik’s cube.

“Aren’t you going to help them?” You turn to Spencer who hasn’t left your side.

“I think they can manage this one without me. I’m needed somewhere else at the moment.” As if to prove his point, he leans in to kiss you. It’s short and sweet and everything you needed at the moment.

The sound of someone clearing their throat pulls the two of you out of your bubble.

“Hi, I’m Penelope Garcia. I’m sure the Genius Doctor has told you all about me.”

“He has indeed. You’re even lovelier in person.” Garcia is just as bright and bubbly as Spencer described her. It makes you smile to think that the team has her never ending positivity while they are surrounded by so much darkness.

“We are having a team gathering at Rossi’s tomorrow night. You should both come. And Lily!” Garcia smiles again before walking away.

“You know that means we have to go, right?” Spencer asks you the obvious question.

“I know honey. You’re afraid of what Garcia could do to you if you get on her bad side.” You laugh at his pout, pulling him down the stairs and over to Lily. It’s about time you all head home.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #Criminal Minds #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #spencer #spencer reid one shot #mgg

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wing-ed-thing · 3 years

Text

Mob Wife (Kakuzu x Reader, ft. Hidan) Part IV

Synopsis: The Akatsuki are in emergency mode. Kakuzu leads Hidan to the only place he knows for sure is safe to regroup.

Word Count:

Warnings/Tags: Violence, Blackmail, Language, Fem!Reader, HouseWife!Reader, Moll!Reader, Attempt at Humor, Ceremonial Drinking of Sake, Traditional Wedding

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Finale

Notes: It’s back. Writing Hidan has got me feeling a certain way rn

It rained on your wedding day: weather fitting for, and not minded by, a criminal and a deserter. As you approached the temple, he tried to tell you many times that you were going to be turned away, but as you spoke to the shrine masters, you were greeted warmly and welcomed. You were young with a warm face that offset Kakuzu’s intimidating exterior. Everyone always loved you right away, a way about you that Kakuzu could never begin to consider replicating. With your open heart, you brought a foreign concept into his world: acceptance. The few priests and priestesses at the temple on the border of the Land of Stone looked upon you kindly, a kindness that you and Kakuzu continued to repay years later. The small village of a few hundred that housed that shrine would never see a shinobi attack. Now, only you continue to repay years later.

You could tell that Kakuzu didn’t like being in the temple in the slightest. He had never been one for religion or structure or ceremonies, so you tried not to laugh the first time you saw him in his montsuki haori hakama. You wondered how much grumbling went into getting Kakuzu in such formal attire with a goofy, lopsided grin. Even as he gazed upon your amused, upturned lips, his infamous temper laid unusually dormant. Kakuzu never thought that he would see his own wedding day. Being the kind of man he was, he never thought that he’d have one. He didn’t think that he deserved it, but for once as you stood in front of him in your shiromuku, all of his jaded thoughts seemed to fade. Of course with you, all doors opened.

Kakuzu knelt next to you at the shrine, ever stoic. He put his hair up before the ceremony and secured it neatly behind his head. You remembered it when it was short. As the priest announced your marriage to the gods, you couldn’t help but glance at Kakuzu out of the corner of your eye. He held himself together better than you imagined he would.

“Well, yes. I am an adult,” he would tell you later.

But at that moment, he received the first sakazuki. The priest's vessel tipped over the small cup two times before pouring. Kakuzu brought the dish up to his lips and took three sips: pointless seeing that neither of you had parents, but traditional nonetheless. You were taught to always honor your ancestors, but you doubted that Kakuzu felt the same. You received your cup and the same sake, taking the same three sips and the ceremony went on. The second sakazuki represented your vow to care for each other. You received a slightly larger cup and once again, you each touched the sake to your lips three times. The third represented fortune and fertility.

The Heavens, the Earth, and the People.

You offered Kakuzu a light smile as you moved to the next part of the ceremony, a gesture to assure him that it was almost over. He would have rolled his eyes in any other setting, but Kakuzu didn’t even have to speak for you to know exactly what he meant. You knew that more than anything, he was happy to be with you. Out of all the things that he had done as a shinobi, he could handle a stuffy ceremony.

“I thought you liked stuffy things,” you teased him later, parts of your robes slung over forearms and shoulders for better mobility as you walked through the gardens. Your hand rested in his as you balanced yourself on some raised, rock ledges. His expression could have easily been mistaken for exasperation as he scoffed, but you knew better. He looked happy. “You’re a shinobi. Now that’s stuffy!”

The priest had you stand and you received a flowering branch to offer to the gods. As you held the sprig in your hand, you glanced at Kakuzu. His eyes met your own and you quietly prayed over your offerings before presenting them together, stem first. You bowed together, the rituals vaguely familiar to you as you performed them.

With the blessings of the gods, you had received your rings. Your thumb ran over the skin of Kakuzu’s hand. They had a familiar gruffness to them and held smooth bumps from old scars. His fingernails were short. You slid the band onto his ring finger. The black suited him. He squeezed the fingers of your other hand. The space behind your eyes stung as you held back tears watching as he placed the ring on your hand.

Neither of you had family, so you thanked the shrine priests and priestesses and enjoyed their hospitality. You took a single picture. It was the same frame that you held in your hands now.

Kakuzu walked out a few hours ago, taking Hidan with him. Your kitchen was, for the most part, wrecked. Your doing. Your tears had since dried up and your trembling was beginning to fade. With a shaky breath, you brought yourself to your feet. You placed the picture face-down on the counter and reached for the broom in the corner. Your heart hurt, but the world continued on. And if the world continued on, so should you.

***

You didn’t want to eat, you didn’t feel hungry, but you stood over the sink anyway biting into whatever you could pull from your fridge. You cleaned up the kitchen to the best of your ability. Trash piled up in neat bins outside: splintered wood, broken plates, and any other particles of dust that you managed to sweep up. You could handle it later. At least the rest of the kitchen was spotless. You glanced down at the thick wedding band that sat in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, you bit into your bell pepper like an apple. That was the kind of night you were having.

A harsh pounding came from the front door and for a split second you wondered if your husband came back. Ex-husband. You didn’t think so. You kept your eyes on the kitchen window but the pounding continued adamantly. A slight shiver went down the back of your neck. The next farm wasn’t for miles. That was definitely not Kakuzu.

You put down your pepper and rolled out your utensil drawer. Your fingers danced across the kunai strapped to the bottom as you silently hoped that your training hadn’t worn off too horribly. The banging ceased as the doorknob began to rattle. The door swung open and you launched your kunai with immense velocity and precision. It was snatched out of the air.

“Fuck! That hurts like a bitch!”

Hidan stood in the entryway with his hand still held up and wrapped around your weapon. Blood dripped onto your floors as the kunai clattered to the ground. He shook out his palm, now sporting a deep gash. All you could do was stand and blink, wondering why he was there and if Kakuzu was with him. Hidan threw his cloak onto the rack. It slid, hardly staying on as he marched over to you. The door didn’t fit into its frame the same as it did before and there was no sign of Kakuzu.

“Can you patch me up, lady?” He looked around your kitchen for somewhere to sit, but found none. He dripped more onto your floors. You quickly guided his wrist over your sink and looked up at him. Beads of water fell down his face. You didn’t even hear the rain outside.

“What happened?” you asked sternly, your voice cracking a bit with worry. Hidan groaned.

“You fucked up my hand, can you at least fix me? I’m traumatized over here.” You sighed, yanking him forward before turning the running water on over his hand. You held it there for a second as if telling him to keep it there before running off to get your medical kit.

“Hidan, you have to tell me if there is an emergency,” you said as you heaved the box onto the counter from your spare room. You cleaned his palm with soap and disinfectant before applying pressure. While you didn’t have to worry about blood loss with Hidan, you also didn’t want him passing out on your kitchen floor either. That would make one more thing to clean up. “Hidan—” You pulled the gauze extra tight. He didn’t seem to be listening to you. —“Is there an emergency?”

“No, lady, it was just cold as fuck and Kakuzu’s got a stick up his ass that’s worse than usual. But you already know what that’s like.” The atmosphere stood still at the mention of Kakuzu’s name.

You knew that you shouldn’t worry about him. As far as you were concerned, he had just divorced you a few hours ago, and even if he hadn’t, you were certain that he could take care of himself. You apparently didn’t do a great job at masking your worry.

He usually didn’t care about the effect of his words, but as you frowned to yourself, Hidan couldn’t help but consider how sad you looked. He pursed his lips, never one for comforting others. For a split second, he wondered whether or not he should have brought up his partner at all. Two fingers gently bumped the bottom of your chin and you looked up at Hidan.

“Don’t look so down. It doesn’t look good on you.” He hesitated. “He’ll come back.”

You dropped his wrapped hand, not noticing that you’ve been drawing loops around his knuckles with your finger.

“I don’t know. He’s usually pretty certain about things and I can’t dwell on that.” You shook your head, turning the water back on to wash your own hands. “You have to go. I know that you have things to do and my— and Kakuzu won’t like that you’re here.” He pouted as you moved around him. You had blood to clean up.

“But it’s raining…” he pouted, expression falling in your peripheral. “And he’s miserable right now which means I’m miserable. C’mon let me stay, I’m miserable.”

“Hidan.” You turned to him and leaned on the doorway from your kitchen to your small living area. “Your partner doesn’t live here anymore.” You flicked on the entryway light, your bucket in hand. Hidan followed behind you, now taking your spot in the doorframe.

“But that doesn’t mean that I have to leave. You know he’s being stupid, but that doesn’t mean that I need to suffer out in the rain because Kakuzu’s a crotchety, old bastard.” You sighed, resting on the handle of your mop. You shook your head.

“I’m sure by the time you get to town the two of you can find somewhere to stay.”

A silence overtook the house again, full of raging, but unspoken thoughts. You squeezed out the yarns and tended to the floors. It, at the very least, gave you something to do. Hidan’s blood already dried part way and you scrubbed harder, but not before it was snatched out of your grip. Hidan shoved you over to take your place. The backs of your knees hit the armrest of the modest couch that you almost toppled down onto. He took to scrubbing.

“So what happened?” he asked.

“Sorry?” Hidan peered at you with his bright violet irises.

“I’m trying to be nice and ask you about your problems, so you better start chatting before I lose interest.” The mop splashed back into the bucket. “Who else do you get to talk to?” You pursed your lips. You knew that he was biding his time to wait out the rain, but his words weren’t wrong. The hurt still felt fresh and perhaps you were feeling a bit desperate to get it out of your system.

“I’m not sure what happened. I asked, but, well, you know how my… how Kakuzu is.” And you found yourself retelling the entirety of what happened: the argument, the ring, Kakuzu’s misplaced comments about children. You left out the part about the wrecked kitchen. “And then he said something about ‘now letting this happen’ which had to be the last straw for me.”

“Did you want brats?” Hidan had since stopped his cleaning. Surprisingly, he listened intently to your rambling as he propped himself against the wall. You swung your feet back and forth over the side of the couch.

“I never really thought about it before and Kakuzu and I never talked about it, so I don’t know why he brought it up.”

“Because he’s a dumbass who thinks too much. I never know what’s going on in that fucked up head of his. If I had a home to come to like this with a cute little thing in an apron—” Hidan scoffed. —“Fuck the Akatsuki. I wouldn’t be hiding you out here because of some band of losers in capes.” That made you laugh.

“You’re in the Akatsuki,” you giggled and Hidan raised a slender eyebrow.

“So? I’m the best one out of all those guys.”

“The best out of some band of losers?” The corners of Hidan’s lips turned upwards into a brief smile as he rolled his pretty irises.

“Listen, I got my devilish charms going for me which is better than Ragdoll. He looks like a fucking pin cushion.” Your hand came over your mouth as you laughed. Hidan looked down at where you sat, pride swelling in his chest at the prospect of cheering you up. But your face quickly morphed into something sentimental.

“Aw, but he’s a cute pin cushion…” Your bottom lip curled into a pout, but at least you didn’t look quite as sad as before. Hidan leaned a bit forward.

“He’s a little over a hundred-eight centimeters tall and has a big-ass nose.” You let out an amused breath. “I’d hardly consider that ‘cute’.”

“But it’s a cute nose. It’s slender and has that cute little bump in the middle.” Your voice grew quieter. Another silence, the third of Hidan’s visit.

It all felt too confusing for you. Maybe Kakuzu was never that interested in you in the first place. You shook your head then and there, much to Hidan’s confusion. Despite Kakuzu’s attitude towards most everything, you knew that he cared deeply about you. Perhaps he had grown bored. Despite ninja work not being of interest to you, you knew that many found the profession very exciting. You ran many profitable operations in the surrounding area, but more money could be made elsewhere, you knew that much. Your lifespan was nothing compared to Kakuzu’s nearly a century of living. He had done everything in life that he had wanted to do and all you had little to show for your existence.

You kept replaying his words about the time that you had. That you had enough time to do more. But if you really thought about it, you were content living the way you had been. You were happy and for a split second you considered whether or not Kakuzu actually saw himself as worthy of you. You shook your head for the second time. No, if anything, you considered it the other way around. You’d imagine that you would come off as boring and childlike to an immortal.

“That’s a lot of thinking.” Hidan had taken to wandering around the room. You hadn’t noticed. “Fuck thinking. You deserve better than taking care of some place in the middle of nowhere and running numbers on boring-ass shit.” You smiled again to yourself, something else that you didn’t notice.

“I actually like it here,” you mumbled. Hidan yawned.

“Can I stay now?” You deliberated to yourself before grabbing the bucket and the mop away from him. He didn’t do a great job, but you found yourself relatively uncaring at the moment.

“Yes, you can stay,” you sighed. Hidan was already halfway down the hall by the time you finished your sentence.

“Good because I was going to crash here anyway.”

@brokennerdalert @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @krispypotato @meme-queen-1999

Notes: Reader and Kakuzu had a Shinto wedding if anyone’s interested.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

#kakuzu x reader #hidan x reader #kakuzu #hidan #Akatsuki x reader #akatsuki #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #naruto imagines #naruto imagine #naruto scenarios #naruto scenario #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #x you #x reader #reader insert

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chaoticpuff17 · 3 years

Text

When the Chips are Down

part 14

masterlist

Happy Mother’s Day, my darlings!--- Chaotic puff

It had been an incredibly bad day for Namjoon. Taehyung had been stabbed. Iyla had run away, and he had an increasingly irritable, very pregnant wife at home that was going to crucify him if anything happened to her little sister. Taehyung would be fine, and Iyla would be apprehended and brought back home, but neither of those things were going to mollify his wife. Y/N was nothing if not protective when it came to her little sister.

All in all, he was very close to snapping and shooting someone out of sheer spite when his phone rang again, the caller ID informing him it was Jungkook. His blood ran cold. Jungkook was the one keeping an eye on Y/N, and he knew better than to call when Namjoon was busy with something as important as this unless it was something of equal or greater importance.

“What happened?” he demanded, answering his phone earning himself a concerned look from Hoseok. There was a jumbled and panicked stream of words from Jungkook, but Namjoon picked out the important bits, Y/N and baby. Y/N was having the baby. “I’ll be right there.” he promised, cursing under his breath. “Call Jin and have him get everything together. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok asked, eyeing the other man warily. It was unusual to see Namjoon looking so shocked.

“Y/N’s in labor.”

---

Jungkook was in a frenzy. He knew nothing about babies let alone birthing babies, and seeing Y/N in pain was making him nauseous. Luckily, Miss In and the maids seemed to know exactly what to do. They’d lept into action as soon as he’d told them what was happening. Miss In made a phone call to Jin who apparently would assemble the medical staff, and the maid, Miran or at least that’s what he thought Y/N had called her, ushered both him and Y/N to the back of the house where a birthing suite had been prepared for just this occasion.

He’d been swiftly kicked out of the room so that Miran could get Y/N into the delivery gown which gave him time to call his hyung and tell him what was happening. Namjoon had already had a stressful day, but there was no way he would want to be away from Y/N while she was in labor.

“It’s going to be okay, noona.” he smiled shakily, watching her pace back and forth with her hands braced against her lower back. “Hyung is going to be home soon.”

“Did they find Iyla?” she asked, looking at him briefly as she turned in her pacing.

The younger man flushed knowing full well he didn’t have an answer for her let alone the answer she wanted. “I don’t know.”

“I’m going to kill him.” she hissed bracing herself against the bed as she was hit with a contraction.

“He’ll be here soon.”

“I’m going to kill him.” she repeated with a groan as she began pacing again.

Jungkook smiled. At least her fighting spirit was still burning brightly, and soon enough he’d have a little niece to play with, one who was hopefully less grumpy than Yoongi’s baby. Yoonho tended to get fussy when anyone other than his parents held him which was a huge deterrent when trying to be an uncle especially to a bunch of men who didn’t have a whole lot of experience with kids. But if this little girl was anything like her mother, they were going to get along famously.

“Do you know what you’re going to call her?” he asked as she turned to cross the room again.

“I have a few ideas, but I’m waiting to see her before I pick one.” she smiled softly. “I could take one look at her and decide I don’t like any of the names I picked out.”

“I’m going to be her favorite uncle!”

“Probably.” she nodded. There were five other options, but Jungkook was like her little brother. It felt natural to think of Jungkook being the favorite uncle. “Just don’t get her into too much trouble okay?”

“No promises.” his nose scrunched up in a mischievous grin just as Namjoon came barreling into the room looking every bit the frazzled father to be.

---

Namjoon had never been more exhausted or excited in his life. It had already been a long stressful day between Taehyung’s stabbing and Iyla’s attempt to escape, but their baby was finally on the way. But even with all the excitement, there was lingering worry as well. Even with all the medical personnel wandering about and Jin’s reassurances that everything was fine, he couldn’t stop the panic that shot through him every time Y/N hissed in pain. Logically, he knew that child birth was painful, but he hated to see her in pain, and it only seemed to get worse the longer her labor progressed.

It had been a long labor, nearly twenty hours and still going. Jin assured him that since it was her first time, a prolonged labor wasn’t unusual, but that didn’t make it any less worrying. Ever since he’d brought her home, she’d shied away from his touch as much as possible, but twenty hours in and she was exhausted and slumped against his chest, her hair mussed and a little sweaty.

“How many centimeters?” She whimpered looking up at him pleadingly.

“Still five, jagiya.” He whispered pressing a kiss to her forehead and bracing them both as she was hit with another contraction. They weren’t regular yet, and the nurses said they weren’t very strong yet either, but to Y/N and Namjoon they seemed horrible. He was sure that both of his hands were going to be bruised by the end of this, but his pain was nothing compared to hers.

He had thought that the baby would be here by now, but she’d progressed slowly and had been stalled at five centimeters for what seemed like ages.

“It can’t still be five.” She groaned leaning further back into his chest. “It was five an hour ago, and the hour before that.”

“I know, jagi. I’m sorry. Just a little longer.” He promised shifting them back so that they were a little more reclined on the hospital bed. “Try to get some rest, jagi.”

“This is your fault.” She hissed.

“I know, jagi.” He cooed soothingly. This wasn’t the first time she’d said it. “Get some rest.”

“I can’t.” She groaned, burying her face into his shoulder.

“I know you’re not feeling great now, but just think, we’ll have our baby soon.”

She groaned again, rubbing a hand across her belly. “No. She’s never coming out. She hates me.”

“Our baby doesn’t hate you.” He chuckled, pressing another kiss to her forehead. “She’s just taking her time.”

“Tell her to hurry up.” She grumbled shifting again as she couldn’t get comfortable.

“I’ll try.”

Rest had been a rarity throughout the ordeal. Y/N was in constant discomfort, and Namjoon was at a loss of how to help.

Namjoon didn’t move an inch until Y/N had drifted into a fitful slumber. He eased her back onto the pillows and got up to stretch and to get himself some coffee. This was going to go on for a while yet if her earlier progress was anything to go by.

“Jin,” He sighed walking over to where his friend was also grabbing some caffeine. “Is it supposed to take this long?”

“She’s stalled. First time labor can take a while, but it’s going to be a long one even for a first time mother.” He sighed giving his friend a tired smile. “I should have known your kid would be difficult.” Jin teased lightly bumping Namjoon’s shoulder.

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Not for the moment.” Jin shook his head tiredly. “She and the baby are fine, just tired, and she’s still in latent labor. The best we can do is keep her comfortable and hope things get moving soon. If she or the baby is in distress, we’ll intervene. Is she sleeping?”

“For now.” Namjoon sighed flopping down into a chair exhausted. It had been a long day.

“You should get some rest too.” Namjoon was going to argue, but Jin cut him off. “You’re no good to her if you’re dead on your feet. I’ll have them set up a cot for you in her room.” Jin cut him off again as he was about to open his mouth. “Don’t you dare interrupt her rest. She needs every minute she can get. You’ll take the cot.”

“But…”

“She’ll be three feet away. Take the cot, or I’ll send you up to your room.” he threatened.

Y/N had never been more exhausted in her entire life. She was tired. She was cranky, and she didn’t have the one person she actually wanted with her. It didn’t help that the labor seemed to stretch on for eons. The gynecologist, a kind if not stern woman that she wanted nothing more than to rip the throat out of, assured her that things would start moving again soon, but she said that every time she came to check in. The labor and delivery nurses that had been summoned were far more honest. They explained that first time moms could be in labor for sixteen to twenty hours, but it had been twenty hours, and she still wasn’t even close to having her baby in her arms.

The epidural helped, but contractions still hurt. Everything ached really, and she had to grudgingly admit that even if he wasn’t who she wanted with her, Namjoon was a fairly good birth partner. He put up with her whining and crushing his hands. He fetched ice chips and rubbed her shoulders. Namjoon had held her hand and kept her calm when they’d given her the partial epidural. She was fine with needles usually, but there was something about a needle that large being inserted into her spine that made her extremely nervous.

Miss In had been more than ready to usher her away to a birth suite that had been prepared in the depths of the mansion that she hadn’t even known about. Namjoon had been summoned home in a panic and immediately brought to her side in the suite. It had to be the nicest hospital type room she had ever been in, and she had been studying to be a nurse before Namjoon had thrown her life off course. She did clinicals though, and they never brought her to the VIP wing of the hospital. The hospital she did clinicals at wasn’t even fancy enough to have a VIP wing.

Namjoon’s position had its advantages. It was nice to have such a comfortable room when she was in so much discomfort. There were even real pillows instead of the thin pathetic ones that normally occupied hospital rooms, and normal pillows were so much more comfortable. Even the hospital gown she’d been forced into was more comfortable than the normal ones. It was made of a soft material that didn’t irritate her skin and allowed her to keep her modesty even though there were monitors hooked up to her belly. Every comfort was appreciated when labor stretched on so long.

It took another thirteen horrible hours for Y/N to be fully dilated, and as much as both she and Namjoon hoped that it would all be over after thirty-three hours of labor, but their baby was a stubborn one who was refusing to drop so that Y/N could finally start pushing. If Namjoon had thought the last thirty-three hours were bad, he had another thing coming.

By the time the baby was crowning, another three long painful hours had passed, and both parents were exhausted.

There had been screaming, crying, cursing. Y/N had threatened his life at more than one point. He couldn’t blame her for that after the labor she’d been through. No one could blame her.

“You have to push, jagi.” Namjoon encouraged holding his poor exhausted wife up as the doctors waited for the next contraction to come.

“I want Mark.” she sobbed, exhausted and sweaty against his chest.

“I know, jagi.” he whispered, soothingly even though the words cut him like a knife.

“Where is he?” she whimpered. “He promised.”

He hated seeing her in so much distress, and he knew he couldn’t blame her for anything she said right now. She was in so much pain and exhausted, but he hated hearing her call out for another man. He hated it with every fiber of his being.

“You’re alright, jagi. I’m right here.” he winced slightly as she squeezed his hands. “You’re doing so well.”

“I’m so tired.” She slurred, her head lolled back against his shoulder.

“I know, jagi, but the baby’s almost here.” He cooed feeling her tense up again as the next contraction hit.

Namjoon did his part keeping her braced as she did the real work hunching forward with a scream as the next contraction ripped through her. There was nothing else he could do for her at the moment.

“And we have the head.” The OB, Dr. Yang if Namjoon remembered correctly but there were a lot of doctors milling around, announced cheerily seemingly unaffected by his wife’s pain.

“Almost done.” He hushed as Y/N flopped back against him again. “Just a little more.” He promised even though he didn’t know if he should be relieved or worried that she was no longer screaming profanities at him. There had been a solid two hours of that once the contractions had gotten bad. Even with the partial epidural, she’d been in a great amount of pain.

A few more pushes and their baby was born. A strong little warbling cry filled the room much to the relief of both parents.

“Congratulations!” The doctor beamed showing them the red scrunched up face of their baby. “You have a healthy little girl.”

“She’s beautiful.” She sighed smiling through her exhaustion as she stared at the face of her little girl.

“What should we call her?” Namjoon asked, running a gentle hand up and down her arms.

“Nara. Her name is Nara.” Y/N smiled tiredly.

“We need to check her over, and we still have the placenta to deliver. We’ll bring her right back though. Okay, mom?” The doctor smiled, looking incredibly relieved that the ordeal that had been this delivery was almost over.

Y/N whined reaching out shakily for the baby as she was whisked away from her, but one of the nurses urged her to stay in bed. Even Namjoon knew she was too weak to get up quite yet. She looked like she was going to pass out from exhaustion at any moment.

“Don’t worry, jagi.” Namjoon shushed, gently shifting out from behind her settling her gently against the pillows. “I’ll go with her. I’ll make sure she’s alright.”

Namjoon was more than a little curious to take a better look at his daughter. He had hoped for a boy, an heir, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be disappointed. He had a little princess. After thirty-seven hours of waiting, he had Nara. His Nara.

The doctor checked her over and cleaned her up before handing him the little girl. He was amazed as he stared down at her. She stared up at him with dark eyes, and the tiniest bit of hair stuck out from under the little hat the doctor had put her in, and she was the most perfect thing that Namjoon had ever seen, tiny and perfect and his. Namjoon was half convinced that he was going to break her if he moved to quickly or shifted the wrong way, but there was something indescribable about having this tiny perfect being in his arms and knowing she was his that he had helped make her even if it came with the crippling fear of dropping her.

Namjoon knew immediately that he would do anything for her. She’d have nothing but the best, and nothing would ever harm her. She’d be the most spoiled little girl there ever was just as it should be for his little princess.

“Y/N?” He heard Jin’s panicked voice from across the room. “Y/N!”

Namjoon immediately whipped around searching for Y/N among the doctors and nurses that were now buzzing around her bed.

“Jagi?” He asked, approaching her bed and seeing a concerning amount of red on the sheets before Jin ushered him away. “Y/N?” He called again more frantically as he struggled as much as he could against Jin while he had Nara in his arms. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong with her?” he demanded as Jin pushed him further back.

“She’s bleeding... a lot.” Jin explained in a rush. “She tore, and it looks like she might be hemorrhaging.”

“Hemorrhaging?” Namjoon panicked once more trying to move forward to get back to her side.

“We’re going to do all we can, but we can’t work with you hovering over us. Besides, you have the baby to think of.”

“But…”

“I will tell you as soon as I have something to tell you, but you need to let us work.” Jin urged casting a concerned glance back at the bed. “Take Nara outside. I’ll tell you more when I know more.”

“Jin...”

“We’re prepared. We have blood ready to transfuse, and the equipment we need. If things get bad we’ll move her to the clinic.” he promised.

“She can’t die, hyung. I just got her back.” Namjoon growled, staring at the doctors buzzing around her. “She can’t. I need her. The baby needs her.”

“She won’t.” Jin assured even though there was a grim set to his mouth that told Namjoon that the situation wasn’t good despite his assurances.

“I can’t… I can’t lose her.”

“Go. Take care of your daughter. We’ll take care of Y/N.” Jin pushed him out the door only for them both to freeze as the sound of one long drawn out ‘beeeeeep’ filled the room.

part 15

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

This Side of Normal Ch. 6

AO3

Jason walks into the hospital room, heart breaking at the sight. Adrien, a huge bandage covering what was left of his arm and part of his shoulder. And next to him… This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be there to make sure the kids didn’t get hurt. Instead, Ladybug- no, Marinette, he reminded himself. She had told him her name through sobs as he held her on the roof after they gave their statements to the police. Marinette blamed herself. He could see it in everything she did, the way she responded to people, her body language around Adrien and Jason. He knew she blamed herself. But she shouldn’t. She wasn’t the one who had been trained to fight villains like that. Villains willing to kill kids to get ahead. But Jason was trained. He was supposed to be prepared and know what to do. But now, Adrien would have to relearn how to do everything with just one arm. Sure, he could get a prosthetic, but that wouldn’t be for several weeks. And even if he chooses to get a prosthetic, he’d have to relearn everything. Again. And it was all because Jason couldn’t save him. He couldn’t save anyone. Jason turns to leave, not ready to talk to the boy who lost an arm because Jason wasn’t fast enough.

“Jay?” A soft voice from the bed calls, making Jason freeze. Whirling around, he rushes over to the bed, immediately looking the boy over to see if he’s okay.

“Hey kiddo, how ya feeling? Are you- I’m so sorry.” Jason rambles, falling onto the spare chair next to Adrien’s bed. A chair that should’ve held a parent. If Gabriel wasn’t a piece of shit supervillain who cut off his own son’s arm and kept his wife’s corpse in a hidden basement. Yeah, that investigation must’ve sucked.

“It’s weird.” He says, and Jason frowns at the tears filling the boy’s eyes. “My arm hurts, Jay. Really bad. But every time I try to hold it, or move it to a position that doesn’t hurt- it’s not there.”

“Oh kid.” Jason clamps his mouth shut, determined to not let the kid hear his voice cracks, determined not to let the kid see him cry. What did he have to cry about? He’s the one that wasn’t good enough to protect these kids. Jason leans forward and gently wraps his arms around Adrien, letting the boy sob into his shoulder. Holding onto a sobbing Adrien, Jason’s able to see Marinette wake up and instantly leap into a fighting position. When she notices him, she relaxes slightly, until she sees the crying boy. Then her face morphs into pain and she backs up away from the bed, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Mari?” Adrien says, pulling away from Jason and sniffling.

“I’m so sorry Adrien. It’s, it’s all my fault.” She says, still keeping her distance. Jason sighs and stands, moving across the room in two large strides and wrapping her into a hug. She stiffens for a moment before basically collapsing in his arms. Jason just holds her and lets her cry, just as he let her on the roof two nights ago. After years of not being able to feel anything other than happy, Jason would support these kids and encourage them to feel. Even if it hurt. They deserved to feel.

---

Sitting and talking to Adrien about anything and everything after school had become a daily occurrence for Marinette. Jason walking her from school to the hospital had also become a daily occurrence. So walking by herself was weird. Doable, because she was Ladybug and could walk across Paris alone, but still weird. Especially since Jason was so insistent on her being more careful now that Hawkmoth- Gabriel- was behind bars. Jay was convinced that that meant that the regular, run of the mill bad guys would come back out of the woodwork now that they didn’t have to deal with possible akumas. Regardless, that hadn’t happened yet and she could easily walk by herself. It was still weird though. Walking into the hospital, Marinette frowns at Jason who was pacing and rapidly arguing with someone on the phone in English. Quickly reminding herself that, no he wouldn’t be akumatized, and yes, he was allowed to have negative feelings, she moves so that she’s in his line of sight. Making eye contact with him, she raises an eyebrow as a silent question. He frowns, but doesn’t do anything else except nod towards Adrien’s room. Rolling her eyes in annoyance at his avoidance, Marinette lets herself into Adrien’s room, smiling softly at her friend. The first two days after the battle, she could barely look at him. She blamed herself completely and didn’t feel like she was worthy of being his friend anymore. Now, almost a week after the battle, she still blamed herself. But it was easier to look at him, easier to talk to him.

“Hey kitty.” She says, walking over and sitting in the chair on the left side of his bed.

“Hey bug. Jay still on the phone?” He asks, and that’s when she notices the tell-tale signs of worry on his face.

“Yeah...how long has he been on the phone?” She asks, frowning at his wince.

“Well, he tried to ignore the person the first three times they called. And then he finally answered, said ‘leave me alone’ and hung up. And then they called again, and that’s when the yelling and arguing started and he left the room. That was…” He trails off, looking towards the clock on the wall. “Almost two hours ago.” “Two hours? On the phone? You don’t think he’s in trouble, do you? I mean, I know he has a life back where he lives, and I’m sure his boss is probably getting frustrated with him. But-” Marinette stops herself, not wanting to say something selfish. She knew that Jason had a life outside of Paris. But he was the only grown up to care that Ladybug and Chat Noir were just kids, that they needed help. He was the one to make sure they weren’t spending too much time being heroes and not enough time sleeping and doing homework. He was their big brother, and she wasn’t ready to say bye yet. Even if they could still call him. It wasn’t the same.

---

Jason Todd was livid, and for the millionth time that week, thankful that Gabriel Agreste was rotting in a prison cell instead of manipulating people who were having a bad day. Cause this was not a good day.

“B, I’m not sure what you want from me.” He finally huffs out, glancing towards Adrien’s shut door.

“I just want to know why you haven’t returned. Dick informed me of the flooding your first day, and how things seemed to magically fix themselves. You told us that everything was taken care of, and then you stopped answering any questions about the situation. Seeing as there is apparently no immediate danger to anyone there, I think it’s time you returned home. You have responsibilities here, Jason. Your family is here.” Bruce says simply, and Jason has to bite his tongue from arguing. How was he supposed to tell Bruce about these kids who needed support that they weren’t getting anywhere else. That there were two young superheroes in Paris who needed someone to understand what they were going through, since they couldn’t (or wouldn’t) tell anyone else? Bruce would have adoption papers written up in minutes, and taking the two from their city didn’t seem right. Plus he would never let Bruce adopt them, the kids had enough emotional baggage to deal with without being a Wayne.

“I just haven’t, Bruce. I’m a grown man. I-” “You have responsibilities, Jason. I let you take this vacation because I could see you needed it. But now we need you. I- your brothers miss you.” Bruce says, and Jason rolls his eyes at the man’s inability to be emotional. He would’ve done great in Hawkmoth’s Paris.

“Okay, I’ll start looking for a ticket. I should be home in two or three weeks-”

“I’ve already ordered a ticket for you. Your flight leaves Paris at noon tomorrow. See you then.” Bruce says, hanging up before Jason has the chance to argue more. Not that he had the energy after going back and forth between arguing with Dick and Bruce for two goddamned hours. Resisting the urge to throw his phone against the wall, Jason takes a couple deep breaths to ground himself. No need to upset Mari and Adrien and if he goes in there pissed off, they’re gonna get upset. Shaking his head to try and clear it, Jason throws open Adrien’s door, grinning at the two, sitting side by side on Adrien’s bed.

“Pixie Pop, you’re gonna piss off the nurse if she sees you up there again.” He says, walking over to his usual chair.

“You’re upset.” She says, instead of arguing and reminding him that she can take anything the nurses can dish out (they’d had the exact conversation yesterday….and the day before.) Jason blinks, acting confused.

“Don’t even try and act like you’re not Jay. Mari’s scary good at reading people.” Adrien says with a frown. Jason huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, okay, I’m pissed.” He admits, slumping back in his chair and crossing his arms. Marinette turns to Adrien and whispers something to him, Adrien nodding before she turns back to look at him.

“You’re gonna need our phone numbers.” She says, and Jason frowns in actual confusion this time.

“Gonna need a little more than that, Pix.” He says.

“Well, we knew that you’re not from here. And that eventually you’d have to go back. I mean, I’m sure your boss wasn’t planning on you taking a vacation quite this long. But-” Marinette pauses and lets out a shaky breath. “But neither of us want to lose you. You care about both sides of us, and you’re the only one. You’re our big brother, Jay, but we both know that you have another life somewhere else. And I’m sure those people miss you too. I mean, you’re kinda cool or whatever.” Marinette teases, but he can tell behind the smirk that she’s close to tears. Jason sighs and stands, bringing both of them into a big hug.

“I don’t wanna leave, ya know.” He mumbles, frowning when he feels his shirt getting wet from tears.

“I know. But you have to. And that’s okay. It’s not goodbye forever.” Marinette says, her voice breaking as she holds onto him tighter.

“Expect a lot of calls and face times. Especially once I get my arm. I have so many jokes to make, you’re gonna be sick of it.” Adrien says, and despite the joke, Jason can tell the boy is crying too. Jason squeezes a little tighter, accepting the fact that he’d be leaving. And that he wasn’t sure when he’d see the two again.

Tag list (open): @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @kittenmywaythrulife @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat

#maribat #maribat jason todd #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat adrien agreste #platonic maribat adrienette #maribat platonic adrienette #fanfic #ao3fic #platonic jasonette #This Side of Normal #maribat big brother Jason Todd #maribat bruce wayne #maribat fic

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years

Text

But professor… - c.2

Summary: Penny continues to have some questions about the assignment, but thankfully professor Marshall is right there to help her out

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter // Next Chapter

My second criminology class, I was feeling a bit under the weather, but like the real die hard that I am, confusing to give in and rest (which would’ve be the better idea), I continued to go to class. I hid part of my face behind my scarf, while I would take a sip of my tea every now and then. I barely absorbed anything that class and professor Marshall must’ve noticed, because he didn’t call for me the entire class.

Thankfully.

But now I feel better and am going to make up for my lack of attention last class. While the the class can be pretty gore, it has become my favorite class, partially because I really like professor Marshall.

No wait, solely because I like professor Marshall.

I don’t want to admit it, but I kinda went out of my way to look presentable for class. I spend my entire life being invisible, unnoticed, but that’s not the case in this class. It’s nice to be acknowledged (I could do without Fitzgerald, who continues to creepily stare from a distance). I put on some lipstick, that matches my blush pink sweater.

Professor Marshall looks up from his notes when I walk in the lecture hall, one corner of his mouth curled up a bit. ‘Morning,’ he says, his tone low and brass.

‘Good morning,’ I say softly, walking towards my assigned seat. Since last class happened in a blur, I am going to pay extra attention to this one.

It is hard though, to focus. We have to understand the crime scene, trying to dissect what happened exactly. However, all the blood, fake or not, makes me want to vomit. I swallow hard and thankfully professor Marshall is skipping over me.

Until…

‘Miss Townsend,’ the professor says, ‘overlap between the victims. I want at four points.’

Four points? Is he for real? That’s a lot. I hate that I made a sort of good point the first class. I have to live up to that expectation now.

Think, Penny, think. ‘All victims are fathers,’ I start, ‘white collar workers and have a brunette wife.’ I try to remember what he told us about and what I read prior to this class. ‘They had affairs with someone they worked with, someone who worked a job that paid less than theirs.’

‘And what does that tell you?’

‘The killer has a type,’ I say, but from the looks of it, he wants more. ‘The victims are carefully picked out, maybe because… These men remind the killer of someone?’

He nods. ‘Exactly.’

I let out a deep relieved sigh, knowing that there is a possibility that he won’t pick me again. I see Fitzgerald looking over his shoulder, to basically gawk at me. He is going out of his way to say intelligent stuff during classes, but everything that leaves his lips is… Bullshit.

After the class ended, I stay for a bit, because of course I have another question. I might not be entirely stupid, but academically gifted is not applicable to me. ‘Professor Marshall,’ I say, as I walk towards him.

‘Miss Townsend,’ he says, ‘you did well today in class.’

‘Oh.’ Stupid me, blushing again. ‘Thank you. I have another question about the assignment.’

‘Why?’

Did he seriously just asked me why? I start to stammer a bit, taken aback from his retort. How am I supposed to answer that? Maybe just stick with the truth? ‘Because I don’t understand.’

‘What don’t you understand?’

‘The case I chose,’ I say.

‘You have time at four?’ he asks. ‘To meet me in my office? I can help you out.’

I nod with a smile. I am going to his office! ‘Yes, thank you, sir.’

‘Where are your glasses?’ he asks, placing the presenter on the table.

He noticed that I wasn’t wearing my glasses today? Is it because I look stupid without them? ‘In my bag,’ I answer. ‘I sometimes switch between lenses and glasses. Why?’

Professor Marshall shrugs. ‘Just wondering. See you at four. Sharp.’

✎ ✎ ✎

I knock on professor Marshall’s office door at four sharp (I mean, he felt the need to emphasis it, so I should be on time, right?) and he says: ‘Come in.’ I open the door, to see him sitting behind his desk.

‘Is that… a chair?’ I ask, pointing to the pretty comfortable looking chair on the my side of the desk.

Professor Marshall nods. ‘I didn’t want you to stand,’ he says. ‘Don’t get used to it though. I plan on removing this thing as soon as you leave.’ He smirks. ‘It gives me the creeps. I usually don’t like people hanging around in my office. Whether that is at NYU or the MPD.’

I take a seat and blink my eyes a few times. Gosh, I don’t think I have ever wore my lenses this long and they start to hurt a bit. Just keep them in for a few more moments. Be subtle. ‘My question is about the literature.’

Professor Marshall tilts his head. ‘Are you okay, miss— Penny?’

Apparently I’m not at all subtle. ‘Just my lenses, that’s it.’

‘You can take them out. Please, go ahead.’

Thankfully I brought my stuff with me and I grab my bag, searching for my glasses and lenses case. ‘The literature that is required for the assignment… There isn’t a list provided by you and I have a hard time finding some.’ I remove one of my lenses and continue to take out the other. Gosh, the relief. I put the glasses on and place both cases in the backpack.

‘I can email you a list of literature you can use,’ he says. ‘Why is it giving you difficulties?’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know, professor.’

‘Walter,’ he says.

Huh? ‘Excuse me, what?’

‘It’s after school,’ he continues, ‘so you can quit with calling me professor and start calling me Walter, okay?’

Walter. Seems so personal, so intimate. Not complaining at all, if I’m being honest. I nod. ‘Okay, I’ll try.’

‘Why did you choose psychology, Penny?’ he asks.

That’s a deep question. It’s almost like a first date (if I have to believe the movies, because yours truly never went on a date in her life). Why does he even care? ‘My parents thought it was important I went to university. They wanted me to become a doctor or lawyer, but I’m not that intellectually gifted. Besides, psychology might give me more of an idea of who I am or what I am. I traveled after high school, hoping to figure out who I am, but so far, no luck.’

Professor Marshall nods. ‘And you think criminology is gonna help you with that?’

I chuckle. ‘No, it’s not. Originally, I wanted to go for the child psychology course, to see if I could understand myself better through that, but I missed the enrolling date. It was either criminology or animal behavior.’

‘Animal behavior? That’s a course?’

‘Mhm.’

He nods. ‘Well, you’re really good in criminology,’ he says. ‘We could’ve used you in the force.’

I run my fingers through my hair and smile nervously. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘You noticed the droopy eyelid. Took detectives long enough before they realized that.’

‘Lucky guess.’

Professor Marshall leans back in his seat. ‘You’ve got to stop undermining yourself,’ he notes. ‘You are sharp, notice the details. You have a lot of potential, in this field or any other. I think you just don’t know it yet.’

My cheeks heat up. Is he saying what I think he is saying? ‘Really?’

He nods. ‘Really,’ he confirms. The professor keeps looking at me, but weirdly enough I don’t feel uncomfortable. ‘Tell me something what you want to find out about yourself.’

I clear my throat. ‘I don’t know yet.’

‘Tell me something about yourself then,’ he says. ‘Something that’s a foundation for who you are.’

I bite my lip and try to think of something. What is a foundation of who I am? ‘Well,’ I say, after contemplating for a moment or two, ‘I was adopted after I was left at a Catholic church doorstep when I was few hours old. I was brought to a hospital, where they found out I was a premature baby with heroin in my blood. They never discovered who my parents were.’

‘Oh, Penny,’ he says. ‘I’m so sorry.’

He is sorry for me? I bite my lip, before I say: ‘My adoptive parents are sweet, they really are, but I’m scared sometimes.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, because if I’m that unloveable at a few hours old, I bet I’ll become that later on, you know? Especially when they will find out that I might not even work in this field, because it’s not where my heart is.’

He places his underarms on his desk, folding his hands together. ‘You’re not unloveable,’ he says in a soft tone, ‘you could never be.’

I smile. ‘We’ll just have to see about that.’

The professor squints his eyes for a few seconds, almost as if he is trying to figure me out without asking anymore questions. ‘Tell me, what field has your heart?’

‘Cosmetology school,’ I say. ‘I know, a huge downgrade from this, but… I love stuff like that.’

He is smiling at me. ‘It’s not a downgrade,’ he says, his town a bit lower than before. ‘I bet you would be great at it.’

I clear my throat, a bit taken aback by the impromptu therapy session. ‘Thank you, Walter, for answering my questions. I feel like I’m bombarding you with questions to a point where it gets annoying.’

He shakes his head. ‘Don’t you worry about it, you could never annoy me.’ He grabs a piece of paper and writes something down on it, as I stand up. ‘Here.’

‘What’s that?’

‘My number. If you have another question or anything else, you can always text or call me.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Of course I have another question. Is it inappropriate to ask this much time and attention of your professor? I almost think it is, but I really want to understand the assignment and my other teachers aren’t as nice as Walter.

While I wish I wasn’t doing this entire major, I do want to prove myself, especially in my criminology class. I don’t want to let him down.

Oh my, have I taken an interest in my professor? That would be improper behavior, right? Isn’t this totally illegal?

Well, my feelings aren’t and he does not feel the same way, so nothing will happen anyway. No need to think about the illegality of the situation when it’ll never get that far.

I grab my phone nonetheless and the piece of paper and add him to my contacts as Walter. I check his profile picture. It’s a slightly blurry photo of Walter sitting in a police car, but even through the blurry pixels, I can still recognize him. The same type of sweater. The messy curls, the beard and the deep frown between his thick brows.

Me: Professor Marshall, can I ask you something?

Me: This is Penny btw

Walter: What did I tell you, Penny?

Me: Oh, I’m sorry

Me: Walter

Walter: Atta girl

My eyes widen as I read his text, while my heart skips a few beats. ‘Oh,’ I whisper to myself. This is making me slightly giddy. What is happening here?

Walter: What’s your question?

Me: I’m still having troubles with the literature

Me: You know what? I’m sorry, I am totally asking to much of your time and I shouldn’t do that.

Me: Forget it, I’m sorry

Walter: No, no, no, Penny, it’s alright.

Walter: I gave you my number, remember?

Me: Right…

Walter: The literature is your only question?

Me: Yes

Me: It’s just a lot and I don’t know which piece of literature is applicable to my case

Walter: You had case four, right?

Me: Yes

Walter: I’ll send you a list of the literature you can use

Me: You sure it’s not too much?

Walter: I’m sure

✎ ✎ ✎

During my counseling skills class I am in the back of the lecture hall and heavily distracted. This professor is incredibly boring and really enjoys hearing himself talk. However, I’m occupied enough. Since there is no on behind or next to me, I open another tab on my laptop, to see I have yet another message from Walter.

Yes, I said Walter. I’m not in class, so it’s not professor Marshall.

Walter: Still in class?

Me: Yes, still am.

Me: What are you doing?

Walter: Consulting on a case for the NYP

Me: Do you miss working for the police force?

Walter: I do

Me: Why aren’t you working for the police now?

Walter: I’m suspended

Me: Do I want to know what you did?

Walter: I may or may not have yelled at some guy, thrown around some chairs during interrogation.

Walter: Thanks to me we solved the case though

Me: Remind me to always be on your good side 😅 😅

Walter: You are, Penny

Walter: Don’t you worry 😉

Me: Do you enjoy being a teacher?

Walter: No, not in the slightest

Walter: How are your assignments holding up?

Me: It’s going okay… It’s just a lot.

Walter: I bet

Me: It kinda feels like I’m drowning

Me: Already

Walter: You need help?

Me: I can’t ask that of you

Walter: You didn’t ask, I offered.

Me: Okay detective 🙄

Walter: Did you just roll your eyes at me?

Me: No, sir, I didn’t 🙈

Walter: I can help you out, I promise

Me: Where?

Walter: My loft?

Me: Your loft?

Walter: Yes, I can pick you up from somewhere

Me: You have crime scene pictures around your place?

Walter: I’ll have them gone by the time you get there

#walter marshall #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall x oc #walter marshall x asian ofc #walter marshall x penny townsend #asian ofc #penny townsend #henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x penny townsend #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #but professor

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ghostdrew22 · 3 years

Text

Burning From The Inside Out || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: slight angst, slight smut, swearing, mentions of abuse and self-harm Summary: Draco and Y/N evolve from fake dating to friends with benefits to… nothing? Commitment issues, and a general distaste for love, stand in the way of the two of them becoming more.

WORDS : 4710

Lyric snippets I used are from “Love Song” by YUNGBLUD and they’re not in chronological order.

<~>

“All I learned growing up was that love chewed me up Spit me out on the pavement next to the cuts And the blood that my mum and dad would Always take out on each other.”

Draco had always thought that love was fake- a neurological con job meant to bring your guard down and distract you from the more important things in life such as money, sex and success. It made sense why he felt that way- having grown up watching his parents claw at each other until blood was caught between their nails and the venom from their harsh words was lacing the atmosphere so thickly, it felt like a fog- he was bound to think that love didn’t exist.

So when his friends began ask why he wasn’t dating one of the many people that were basically falling at his feet, he froze up. How could he have possibly explained that he thought love was a ridiculous waste of time because he’d watched his parents approach to it and it scarred him so much that he wanted to leave the whole thing alone? He couldn’t. So he did the next best thing, he asked you to fake-date him.

It was a ludicrous idea, you both knew that, but you were his best friend for years and you loved him an immeasurable amount so you figured that there was no harm in helping him out. Besides, you had a lot of people hot on your trail too and you just weren’t interested in romantically committing to anyone- more attracted to the concept of sex with no strings than to the idea of being in a long-term romantic relationship with someone.

But in all honestly, you still don’t know why you’d agreed to do it, it was stupid and a very obvious recipe for disaster. I mean in the moment it had felt like a good enough idea to get Harry Potter off of your back and Pansy Parkinson off of his, but even at the time you knew that you were playing with fire and one of you was bound to get burned.

And the thought surfaced again when you two crossed territory from friends to friends with benefits. It had started with an innocent kiss on his cheek now and then- to convince everyone that you two were actually dating- but as the weeks went by and people began to get suspicious about your lack of PDA (considering Draco’s possessive nature and your touchy nature) it became apparent that the two of you had to up your game. And one afternoon when you were kissing him on the way to class, a switch seemed to flip and soon enough you were pressed up against the broom closet wall as he sunk himself deep inside your walls- trying then and there to drown every inch of you with his touch, to leave every part of you scorching with the feel of him.

It definitely wasn’t love, that much you knew. It was more just an insatiable hunger to destroy one another - to be the best that either of you had ever had so that you would both be ruined for whoever dared to come next. Maybe that should’ve been the first red flag, the first time you noticed just how toxic your little routine was, but it didn’t matter then and frankly, it doesn’t matter much to you now. Because with him logic is quickly thrown out the window and all you can seem to think about is sinking your teeth into him, making him yours, branding him so that the entire school knows not to touch what you’ve claimed as your own- even if there’s no romantic feelings involved, there’s still a harsh possession that nests itself within your relationship. A dark desire to own and be owned in the most filthy of ways, to be looked at like a meal and devoured like a feast by one and one only.

~~~

“Wanna get rid of my period for 9 months?” You groan from your place on the bed and Draco gapes at you.

“Y/N you are so foul!” He exclaims with a chuckle and you barely manage a laugh in your pained state. “Most girls would offer to take me out to dinner first, maybe undress me slowly-“

“When have I ever undressed you slowly?” You ask with a knowing eyebrow raise and Draco smirks back at you.

“Fair point.” He replies and you groan in pain again, “It’s okay, I’m coming don’t worry.” He drops his schoolbag on your bedroom floor and peels his shoes off of his feet before pulling out a brown paper bag from his schoolbag and crawling into bed beside you.

“I got you meds from Madame Pomfrey, drink this now.” He hands you a potion, “It should kick in within the hour.”

“That’s too long.” You whine and he deadpans you- making you shift under his gaze and drink the potion. “It tastes like utter shit.”

“You drink it every month, why aren’t you used to it?” He asks with a laugh and you shrug.

“I think I force myself to forget.”

“Weirdo.” He mumbles before digging back into the paper bag, “I brought you chocolate and Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans to keep you munching.” He pulls out the snacks and hands them to you, “Heat compress to alleviate the pain till the potion kicks in.” He puts the heat compress on your lower abdomen, “And I brought ’Sense & Sensibility’ from the library to keep you distracted.”

“Why ’Sense & Sensibility’?”

“Because I know that you’ve currently got your obsession with muggle authors and I remember you telling me that you loved this woman’s other book so I just grabbed it quickly.” He shrugs and you smile, already starting to feel a little better.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, we do this every month Y/N.” He chuckles.

He’s right, it is your routine. For as long as you can remember being friends with Draco, you can remember him looking after you whenever you have a really bad period- bringing you snacks, massaging you, singing to you, running you baths, anything that could possibly make you feel better. It’s consistent, one of the only things you both have to rely on, but you still can’t help the feeling of immense gratitude that washes over you every time. He always goes above and beyond for you, and you can’t help but feel grateful for him.

“Now,” He says as he drags your attention back to reality, “do you want me to read to you or do want cuddles?” He raises his eyebrows at you and you already know the answer.

“Cuddles.” He laughs at how quickly you respond and puts the book on the table beside your bed before hooking his arms around your waist and helping you both sink into the covers- your head nuzzled into chest as he lays flat on his back and rubs soothing circles into your own.

“Better?” He asks after a few minutes of him massaging your back and you nod eagerly- bringing your fingers up to trace lines across his collarbone in an effort to keep yourself occupied. He shivers at the feeling of your fingertips against his skin and you smile. “Keep doing that and I will have to take you up on that offer of taking away your period for nine months.”

~~~

“Nobody taught me how to love myself.”

“Standing there, you look at me Understanding everything”

The sudden eruption of voices in the hallway has you rapidly turning your neck toward the sound, just in time to catch a glimpse of Draco storming away from the rest of his exhausted quidditch teammates and into another hallway that leads to the dungeons. From what you’d seen he had looked furious and the rest of the team looks very solemn, so you say goodbye to Tracey Davis and quickly shuffle toward the team so that you can ask Blaise what happened.

Blaise catches your eye right before you reach him and opens his arms to hug you- draping one arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him so he can kiss your forehead. “Bad practice, he couldn’t do anything right today.” He says- already knowing what question was on your mind.

“Do you know what’s up with him?” You look up at him with furrowed eyebrows and his shakes his head with a shrug.

“No clue. He was perfectly fine this morning, then by the time practice came he was fuming.”

“He’s angry?”

“He was angry. Now he’s just… sad?” Blaise sighs, “I really don’t know what’s going on, please check on him?”

You nod with a small smile and make to leave, “I’ll go see him right now.”

By the time you reach the common room Draco’s already in his room- something you figured out from the sound of his door slamming harshly- and you trek up to it nervously.

“Draco?” You ask softly as you open the door and find him hunched over his desk- still fully draped in quidditch gear.

He snaps his head up quickly and meets your eyes with a cold stare. “What?”

“Okay, rude.” You mumble as you step into the room and lean against the door. “Are you okay?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes as he turns to face you from across the room, “Yeah, I’m bloody great.” He shrugs, “I’m the world’s worst seeker and my mother’s in the hospital, it’s truly a wonderful life.” He drawls sarcastically.

You push yourself off of the door at the mention of his mother and quickly stride toward him, “What do you mean your mother’s in the hospital?” You raise your eyebrows- concern erupting from your throat.

He doesn’t say anything but slowly turns behind him and picks up a letter from the desk to hand to you. He sighs and leans against the desk as you take it from him and begin to read the letter from his father.

a mild heart attack as she fell down the stairs.

Your eyes glaze over with anger as you scrunch the letter up and toss it to the ground. You’re no stranger to the abuse that goes on in the Malfoy household- having heard it yourself one night when you’d spend a weekend at their home- and you know that what Lucius really means is that he hit her so hard that she had to be hospitalised. You open your mouth to speak but Draco shakes his head and cuts you off.

“No. No Speaking.” You nod as he sighs and rubs his hands across his face in frustration. You take no offense at his words because, to be honest, nothing you could’ve said would make it better anyway. This has happened so often, too often really, that the two of you have evolved passed the need to converse about it.

“Fuck!” He exclaims suddenly and you flinch at the outburst- making him soften instantly as he turns to face you. “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You nod in forgiveness and he reaches his arms out for you, and you do as he asks and sink into his arms- running your hands through his hair as he leans on the desk and you stand.

“I hate him.”

“I know.” You pull away from him and cup his face so he looks into your eyes. “Go take a shower, you stink.”

He laughs sadly and nods as he stands and starts walking to the bathroom. He stops midway and turns back to you, “Will you still be here when I get back?”

“Where else would I go?” You raise your eyebrows at him with a smile and he smiles back before slipping into his prefect bathroom to shower.

While he’s showering you decide to get changed into something more comfortable- putting on one of his shirts over your underwear- and put out his favourite pyjama pants on the bed for him to wear once he’s gotten out of the shower. Then you climb into his bed and start reading the copy of ‘Sense & Sensibility’ that he got after reading with you and realising Jane Austen is actually pretty good, while you wait for him to get done.

“Nobody taught me how to love myself So how can I love somebody else?”

You’re so entranced by the book that you don’t even notice him come back into the room until he’s speaking to you from the foot of the bed. “Did you take these out for me?”

“Mhmm.” You respond without taking your eyes off the page in front of you.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welco-“ You gasp as your eyes come off the page and meet his figure. He’s still dripping from the shower, a towel tied around his torso, and he’s got bruises all around his abdomen. “Draco!”

You get up and climb round the bed to get him, and he barely has any time to slide his bottoms on before he starts shuffling away from you.

“It’s nothing, I promi-“ He winces as soon as one of your hands makes contact with a bruise near his ribs.

“Draco.” You pull your hand back angrily and speak with a warning tone.

“Y/N it’s-“

“You promised me this would stop.” You state firmly and he gulps in fear. “We’ve been friends what, 6 years now? And in the six years that we’ve known each other I’ve done a countless amount of shit for you, no fucking questions asked. I ask, no, I beg you to do one thing and you can’t even do that?”

“It just happened.” He sighs tiredly and you scoff with a laugh.

“No, it didn’t just happen. You let it happen. Or am I wrong?”

“I-“

“You know what? I don’t even want to hear it.” You walk back to the bed with a shake of your head.

You’ve asked him a million times not to go sparring with Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle before Quidditch practice because he always comes back black and blue- smothered in painful bruises on his entire abdomen. He only does it because he thinks that he deserves the pain, that in some weird way he’s getting what’s due to him for existing. It’s his own way of self-harming and it’s led him to Madame Pomfrey more times than you can possibly remember.

He promised you months ago that he’d stop for good, that he’d start taking better care of himself and stop looking for excuses to get hurt when he felt bad about himself. But bad habits, it seems, tend to die hard when you’re self-loathing masochist who can’t trust his best friend enough to talk to her when he starts to feel like shit.

“I’m sorry, I just needed something to take my mind off of it.” He trails behind you and picks up his wand to cast a silencing charm- anticipating the screaming match that you’re both about to have.

“Why didn’t you just talk to me? I’m your fucking best friend, what the hell else am I here for?”

“I know, I’m sorry I just…”

“You just?”

“I’m always coming to you with my problems, burdening you with my thoughts and it’s just not fair.”

“What?” You snap at him in confusion.

“I come crying to when my parents are doing their usual shit, I come to you when I have a bad Quidditch game, I come to you when I get a bad grade- fuck- I even come to you when I’m too scared to get into a relationship-“

“I chose to help you with that, don’t fucking act like you forced me into this because it was mutually beneficial.”

“That’s not the bloody point Y/N!” He yells in exasperation.

“Then what is the fucking point Draco?” You yell back.

He sighs, clenches his fists and closes his eyes. “The point is, I’m more bad than good for you, I’m a burden.”

You gasp at his words and sit on the edge of the bed as you look up at him in astonishment. That’s what he said to you the first time that you talked about his home life, ‘I think that they fight because of me, I ruined their lives. I’m a burden.’

“You’re not a burden.”

“You say that now. Until the day when you want more comes and I can’t give it to you.” He sits on the edge of the bed beside you, “One day this won’t be enough- you’ll want someone who can love you the way that you want to be loved- and I won’t be strong enough to do that. And then I’ll lose the only good thing I have in my life.”

“I’ll never leave you- I don’t think I could even if I tried.” You laugh awkwardly and pull him into your chest for a hug. “I don’t want more Draco, I don’t think I ever will. It sounds hard to believe but being best friends who occasionally have mind-boggling sex is quite enough for me, it makes me happy.”

“Promise me that you’ll tell me if you want more.” He mumbles into your chest.

“I promise bug.” You whisper as you rub his back soothingly- letting him relax into your embrace.

After a few seconds of silence he speaks again, “They’re going to kill each other.” He whispers- so quiet that you think maybe you imagined it- before a soft sob escapes his lips.

“Shh, it’s okay.” You whisper back and continue soothing him by running your fingers along his bare back- stopping every few seconds to massage his ribs a bit- in an effort to help him calm down.

You don’t tell him that they won’t, because in all honesty you don’t know if they won’t, but you hold him tight for as long as he needs and promise him that you’ll be there for him. And that’s enough for the both of you- knowing that you’ll always be there for each other.

You sit like that for a while as he calms down and his breathing evens out- his head in your chest as one of your hands holds his and the other digs into his skin softly. It’s when he stops rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand, and instead starts rubbing it up and down your thigh, that you realise he’s finally breathing normally again. “Y/N?”

“Hm?” You hum in response as he pulls his head out of your chest and brings his lips up to your neck.

“Can we have some of that mind-boggling sex you talked about?” He asks against your collarbone and you laugh at his sudden change in attitude.

“I take it someone’s feeling better?” You ask as you let him take control of the situation and push you onto your back against the mattress.

“No.” He says, voice muffled as his lips graze against the skin on your neck, as his hands travel along your sides delicately. “But I need to feel you.”

“Dra-“ You start to protest- wanting to tell him that he can’t fuck his sadness away- but he cuts you off with a chaste kiss to your lips as his hands find their way beneath the t-shirt that you’re wearing and come up to unhook your bra.

“Please?” He asks desperately when he finally pulls away from your lips, his voice raw and raspy, “Let me take care of you princess.”

You’re still hesitant to agree, worried that he’s using this as a coping mechanism and scared that it’ll worsen the pain he’s feeling in his abdomen, but his lips find that soft spot behind your ear and you melt into his grasp like ice-cream on a thirty-degree day. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Okay.” Is all you say before he’s making good on his promise and making you feel so good that it’s as if there’s lava crawling beneath your bones.

His lips and hands are everywhere you need them, not hesitating to give you what you want as they usually do, not acting at a torturously slow pace. Tonight there’s no teasing, no tug-of-war between you both to see who cracks first, there’s just immense passion and trust- all the unsaid words left floating in the air are now dancing between your lips as they connect over and over again.

In this moment he’s Picasso and all he can think about is painting over you with his lips, his hands, his cock as it digs against your inviting walls, with every colour of the rainbow until the world itself is drained of all vibrancy because he’s given it all to you.

You meant what you said before, sex with Draco is always mind-boggling and lip-bitingly pleasurable, but this is different. It makes you finally understand what people mean when they say that they can see God at the height of their climax- that they feel as though their bodies are overheating and they’re going to combust at any moment.

He has never been this soft before, usually sex with him is fast, rough, hard, and all about building up the tallest tower of arousal so you can both knock it down with earth-shattering orgasms. But this is so different. This is soft, sensual, almost slow in a way- it says more than any words you two could possibly try to use to explain how much you value each other. You’re not in love, that’s for sure, but this feeling, this painfully exquisite moment, is the closest thing you two will ever get to uttering the words, “I love you”, to each other.

Who needs love when the two of you have each other to make you feel like you’re both burning from the inside out?

~~~

Now, as you sit next to him in Potions and watch intently as he chops up the next set of ingredients, you think that perhaps it’s you who’s going to set on fire.

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

“Hm?” You furrow your eyebrows at him as you zone back in, “Sorry, I zoned out for a second.”

“You seem to be doing a lot of that lately, are you okay?” He asks genuinely as he stops working on the potion to focus a soft gaze on you.

You gulp and nod, giving him a fake smile, “Yes, of course, don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, seriously.” You bring your hand up to his arm as reassurance and smile again- trying to ignore how taut his muscles feel beneath your fingers, even with all the fabric between them- “What were you saying?”

“Oh!” He smiles brightly, “I was asking if you want to go down to the Black Lake next period? Since we’re both free?”

“And do what?” You narrow your eyes at him but grin still.

“I don’t know- drown ourselves, skinny dip, have a picnic- whatever your heart desires.”

“If you’re just looking for an excuse to see me naked then all you have to do is ask.” You smirk.

“I wouldn’t need to take you all the way there if I wanted to see you naked.” He grins widely and you roll your eyes, “I’ve just been wanting to go down there for a while and I thought I might as well bring you along.”

“Because you love my company?”

“Because you probably have nothing better do and no one else to hang out with.”

“We both know half the boys in this grade would drop everything for ten minutes with me, I could easily find someone to hang out with.” You reply very brazenly and he rolls his eyes at you. It’s true, more than half of the boys in the grade have tried to ask you out at least once, Potter being the most insistent, and if push came to shove you could easily find someone else to spend your free period with.

Not that you want to, free periods with Draco have actually become one of your favourite pastimes. Usually spent working on extra school work, or chatting, or trashing on Harry Potter- which happens considerably often since you both don’t like him.

“Too bad for them because you’re coming with me.”

“Because?” You raise your eyebrows at him- waiting for him to admit what you want to hear- and he mumbles a reply that you don’t quite catch- “Excuse me?”

“Because I love your company…”

“I know.” You smile with a giggle.

“Sweetheart, you are Changing my mind”

“There ain’t no excuses I swear that I’m doing my best”

“Do you still think love is fake?” You ask as you both lie in the grass and stare up at the sky- enjoying one of the only sunny days you’ll be getting this June.

“Hm?” Draco hums in questioning and you turn on your side to face him- propping your head up on your palm as you lean on your elbow.

“Love. Do you still think it’s a hoax?”

He sighs and blinks a bit before taking a gulp and averting his eyes from the sky to meet your own. “I don’t know.”

“I think in the time that we’ve been pretending to date, I’ve felt a lot of new emotions that I’d never felt before. I can’t tell you if it’s love or not because well, I don’t know what that’s supposed to look like or feel like, but I do know that I like it. It’s different to anything I’ve ever felt before because it’s comfortable and warm- it’s home in a way. It’s the kind of feeling home is meant to give me, not the dread and fear I feel when I get off the Hogwarts Express and find my parents waiting for me on the platform. Not the emptiness I feel when I have to sit through dinners with them and we have to pretend that we’re a happy family. Not the sadness I feel when I’m locked up in my room and I can hear them screaming at each other at the top of their lungs downstairs. It doesn’t feel like what I feel when I think of the Malfoy Manor, the only way I can describe what it feels like is by saying that it feels like what I feel when I think of you, or when I’m with you.”

“And what do you feel when you think of me?” You ask.

“I feel safe and happy and like there’s fire coursing through my veins - almost like I’m burning from the inside out. I don’t know if that’s what love is supposed to feel like- I’ve got no one to ask- but I know that I like feeling that way.” He closes his eyes and takes a breath, “So, to answer your question, I don’t know if I still think love is fake. All I know is that I don’t feel that hopelessness that usually consumes me, when I’m with you.”

You look at him in awe- utterly speechless and completely amazed by the words he’s just spoken to you. You can’t ask him for anything more than that, he’s clearly trying his best to be open to love and honest with you, and you don’t really want more anyway- it’s enough knowing that the two of you make each other happy. What you two have is enough. “You are fucking ethereal.” You breathe out as you sink back to the ground and go back to looking at the sun.

“So are you.” Draco says back as he picks up your hand and intertwines your fingers together. He doesn’t think that love is a hoax, he thinks that maybe he’s falling in love with you, but he’s not ready to admit that just yet- not when the fear of the only solid good thing in his life disappearing still haunts him with every waking moment. Not when you’re not showing any signs of romantic attraction toward him, because he can’t afford to be another dotted line in your book of conquests just because he got soft and caught feelings for you.

He’s not sure of himself yet, how can he be when no one ever taught him how to trust in his ability to be lovable? How can he be when even his own mother and father give him leftover scraps of affection veiled as the unconditional love of parents. Letting himself fall in love with you is a big risk to take when his own insecurities swarm his thoughts day and night, when his own fear of commitment swallows him up whole at every interval in which he thinks he’s ready to be vulnerable. No, he’s not ready to fall in love with you yet. But he’s trying to get there.

<~>

So, this ending is not what I originally envisioned, that one was a lot more compact and fluffy than this one is but I much prefer this one. When I first started writing this fic I actually started with the ending and worked my way backwards but when I finally got to the beginning I realized that the ending just didn’t fit anymore and I had to end it here.

I’m much happier with this ending because it’s undefined and open to interpretation. In a way Y/N is aromantic but in a way she’s also not- I couldn’t decide so I left it in a way that the reader can decide.

I’m planning on using the original ending in something different, which I will post here once it’s done, but yeah, this is the fic.

Anyway, love you all,

jean <3

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hockeylvr59 · 3 years

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Collide Part 2 || Sidney Crosby

Summary: Life as a single foster mom and a pediatrician didn’t leave much time for dating. But when Dr. Erin Lancaster becomes the pediatrician for Pittsburgh Penguins Defenseman Brian Dumoulin's baby boy, her association and quick friendship with his wife Kayla turns her crazy but quiet life upside down.

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Apparently my brain is just on a Sid kick lately. First a blurb update, now this one. Let me know what you think.

Warnings: alcohol consumption Word Count: 2,001

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The weeks leading up to the holiday season were usually some of the best as a foster mom. The kids that I called my own, even temporarily, generally didn’t have a great experience with family holidays in the past and it was always exciting to teach them the magic of the season. The joy of watching the Macy’s parade and then football before having a big meal, going looking at Christmas lights, and everything else that filled the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

This year though, this year was tough. A few weeks ago, just days after my trip to the hospital, the seven year old I was fostering was moved to another placement. More biological siblings had popped up in the system and taking them would have placed me over my permitted limit. So instead, the rambunctious boy I was finally starting to make strides with was moved so that he could be with siblings he had never met, all because of the preference of keeping siblings together. A week later, my five year old was transferred back into the care of his mother who had successfully completed a rehabilitation program. I wasn’t sure the woman could be trusted but the court had decided she was fit enough to regain custody and there was nothing I could do about it.

Finally, yesterday, my newborn had been deemed stable enough to be placed with a paternal grandmother now that he was completely off the drugs. I had done my limited job of making sure that he got elevated care and now he was in the placement I knew he’d end up in all along.

It was the weekend before Thanksgiving and for the first time in a long time I didn’t have any kids under my roof. Honestly, I couldn’t remember the last time I didn’t have any kids placed with me, it had been that long. Yesterday, it had been easy enough to ignore, I went into the office to catch up on paperwork, I picked up dry cleaning and went grocery shopping before drinking half a bottle of wine and falling into bed exhausted.

Today though, things were quiet and now that the world had stilled around me, my normally thick exterior cracked and I found myself sobbing steadily. I loved being a foster mom, I really did, but it was heartbreaking to know that these kids would never be mine for one reason or another. That while most days my house was full of laughter and as much love as these kids could manage, days like today would always be waiting at the end of it all.

While drowning my sorrows with a pint of ice cream I definitely didn’t need to be eating at 11am, my phone buzzed beside me with a message from Kayla Dumoulin. She had texted more than once over the past few weeks with worries such as whether Brayden’s cord was healing normally and whether she could cut his nails because he didn’t like the mittens but she didn’t want him to cut himself. Through our text conversations she had learned of my rapidly emptying house and her message this morning was just to check in and see how I was doing.

She was such a sweetheart and I replied with a shrug emoji declaring that if sobbing over a pint of ice cream at 11am was normal then I was doing just fine. The phone rang a moment later and I sighed seeing her name pop up because the message wasn’t intended to make her feel guilty or anything, it was just genuine honesty. Still, I answered the phone, setting the pint of ice cream aside for a moment.

“It sounds like you need some baby cuddles.” Kayla stated, the sound of soft chatter coming through the line. “Why don’t you come over. Brayden wouldn’t mind seeing his favorite doctor.” She suggested.

“That’s sweet but I’ll be okay.” I assured her. “I don’t want to impose. I’m sure I can find something to do.”

“You’re not imposing.” Kayla insisted. “Me texting you at 2am with a breastfeeding question was imposing.” Her voice was teasing and I sighed softly remembering being up with my own newborn when she had a question about hers since Brian was on the road.

“Seriously.” She continued. “Come over, snuggle Brayden, and give my husband a second opinion on this bottle of wine he just got since I can’t drink.” She suggested. Sensing that she truly meant it, I sighed and agreed reluctantly telling her to send me the address.

____

45 minutes later, I had cleaned myself up so it didn’t look like I had spent the last few hours sobbing. After putting on some light makeup, I had thrown on some black jeans, a striped long sleeve tee, and a tan pullover before deeming myself decent enough to head out.

Plugging the address in my phone’s gps, I drove over to Kayla and Brian’s neighborhood, parking down on the street in front of their house. It didn’t even register that there were approximately a half dozen cars spread between the driveway and the street already as I made my way up to the front door.

Kayla greeted me after just a minute and I gently teased that if I didn’t know better I wouldn’t believe she just had a baby as she let me inside. That made her smile, and as she guided me to the kitchen for a glass of wine I realized that there was a significant amount of noise coming from the living room. It wasn’t until she was murmuring for me to make myself comfortable that I realized the living room was occupied by almost a dozen Penguins players, football pregame on tv.

“Alright Muzz, you can give my baby back now.” Kayla declared half-joking, half-serious. As soon as the goalie handed the baby over, Kayla was crossing the room back to me and handing off the little boy who just snuggled into my chest as soon as he was placed there. “There...baby snuggles.” She murmured.

“Thanks.” I whispered, resting a hand over the infant’s back before taking a sip of wine feeling slightly uncomfortable as eyes slowly landed on me.

“Hey doc.” Brian greeted appearing from somewhere else in the house. “Let me know what you think of that wine, not sure if this brand is a keeper or not.” He stated simply portraying the feeling that I wasn’t at all anywhere I didn’t belong and that this was a normal occurrence. Nodding I promised to do so before just focusing back on the baby in my arms. The physician portion of my brain noted that he was doing well and had certainly been growing while the rest of me just found myself relaxing at the feeling of a baby’s steady breaths.

Most of the guys paid me no mind as the game started. Yet I felt one pair of eyes linger. As I stepped outside after handing Brayden off to feed just before halftime, a four legged companion joined me and I chuckled petting the Dumoulin’s dog Roo while sitting on the steps of their patio nursing my second glass of wine.

The patio door slid open and then shut before a body slid down next to me on the steps.

“So where are your foster kids?” A familiar voice asked and glancing over my eyes met those of the Penguins Captain.

“With another foster family, with their mother, and with their paternal grandmother.” I whispered, quickly taking another sip of the wine to try and push back another round of tears. “The sucky thing about being a foster mom is they always go away in the end.”

“I...I didn’t know.” Sid mumbled after a moment and I waved him off petting Roo and wiping at my eye with the back of my hand.

“I didn’t expect you to.” I stated simply.

“So that’s why…” Sid trailed off, stopping when I nodded.

“Baby cuddles to try and make everything better.” I shrugged. “To fill the three new cracks in my heart. It’s been a long time since I was childless.” I whispered. “I’ve been trying to recall when it was and I honestly can’t remember. I feel like it had to have happened at least a few times but I really can’t recall not having anyone since I became a foster mom in the first place.”

“How long is that?” Sid asked, tone softer now than it had been that day at the hospital.

“Two...almost three years. I applied to become a foster parent toward the end of my residency.”

“Can I ask how many?” Sid questioned.

“36.”

“In three years? That’s...wow.” Glancing over I could see the genuine shock on his face.

“I don’t know what the turnover rate is generally but I’m fairly certain my rate is higher than average. I get a lot of the drug addicted babies because of my skills and they’re generally only with me 2-3 weeks until it’s safe to move them into a more permanent placement, often with other family members.”

“How do you handle that?” He murmured, reaching down to pet Roo as well who had rolled over onto her back for belly rubs.

“Usually I just focus on my patients, on the kids that I do still have with me because they deserve all of my love and attention. This time? Crying over Ben and Jerry’s at 11am until Kayla insisted I come over.” A smile cracked Sid’s face and he apologized quickly declaring that this isn’t something to smile about.

“No it’s okay. You can find it amusing, I know it wasn’t the most healthy coping method.”

“Are you going to be okay?” He inquires softly.

“Yeah. Well, I should probably lay off the wine. Dumo has really good taste.” Sid’s eyes crinkled a little bit and he looked at me like be serious. “I will be. I mean it’s only a matter of time before I get the call that another child needs me.” I assured him. “I just...sometimes...days like this...they make me wonder whether I still want to do this, you know…”

“Go on…” Sid urged.

“I just...it’s so hard. Never knowing whether I’m going to wake up and have to say goodbye again. Constantly giving away pieces of my heart that I’ll never get back. Days like today make me just want to be a mom. Not a foster mom but a mom. To have my own kids who won’t be there one day and gone the next.”

“I get that feeling.” Sid murmured after a moment. “Not the ‘here one day gone the next’ part, but uh, wanting your own kids part, that I get.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke before dropping his hand back down to pet Roo, his fingers brushing against mine. Immediately my mind flashed back to the feeling of his hand wrapped around mine and I quickly pushed that aside.

“There you are!” Kayla exclaimed, popping her head out the door, her eyes shifting back and forth between you and Sid and noting how close you were sitting. “We just put out some food if you’re hungry and want something other than ice cream.” She grinned, dipping back inside looking like she was about to burst with what she just saw even if it was absolutely nothing.

When Sid stood he offered a hand out to help you up, murmuring for Roo to come inside and he’d see if he could find her a treat. The bulldog was eager for that and followed after him as you brushed yourself off and picked your wine glass up moving to rejoin the group.

Ridding of your buzz with some food and water and more baby snuggles you finally headed home with the feeling that there was something more to your conversation with Sid that you hadn’t put your finger on.

Outfit:

#sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagine #pittsburgh penguins #pittsburgh penguins imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #ppenguins #019

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deepseavibez · 3 years

Text

A Star In Your Sky || JJK

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-> Picture Source - Pinterest

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A Star In Your Sky [Jungkook]

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Genre - Dad!Jungkook; Angst; Sadness; Melancholy; Drabble:

Summary - Helpless as he was, 'what you didn't know couldn't hurt you'... it would have to do. There was nothing else he could do.

Warning - Angst; Sadness; Major Character Death;

Word Count - 1.7k

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Jungkook woke up with a start at the blaring alarm. 5am - his phone flashed in red numbers. Snoozing it, he left it back on the table.

The fog on the windows signifying a cold morning, the dreary grey clouds overcast, the edge of dawn.

Wiping the sleep out of his eyes he righted his shirt, pulling his sleeves over his cold hands, ruffling his hair as he stretched his limbs and swung them over the couch.

The cold hit his bare feet as he stood up and started his way down the hall, switching the lights on as he walked, to navigate his way to the room right next to his.

Door slightly ajar, he pushed on it, the slight creak a normal sound, a part of the surroundings, the many years behind the action of tuning it out.

His eyes fell past the threshold, items he knew by heart, colors he had committed to memory, the scent and the surroundings - his home.

The curtains in this room were purple, deep purple, the hue something akin to indigo, silver moons and stars shone at the catch of even the tiniest bit of light.

There were posters of cartoons, drawings in crayons and paints, a basket of toys in the corner of the room, and Cooky, the pink plush toy staring back on the made bed.

Eyes scanning the toy he remembered the day it came home.

----------

'Dad, look what Uncle Jinnie got me,' Moon ran up to him, as she giggled in excitement, eyes lighting up at the plush toy in her hand.

Turning toward the sound of his daughter, he bent down on one knee so she could hop into his waiting arms. He held her easily, her form tiny and stable in his muscled hands.

Her momentary glance to the tattoo on his skin, a second nature, something that made her smile, as her name had been carved into his forearm, stars surrounding it with a Saturn ring.

She was Daddy's little girl and she loved every moment of it.

Meeting her fathers eyes, she held up the pink bunny in her arms, a prize worth every drop of attention he could give.

Smiling bemused he asked her, 'What about all the other teddy's in your room, babygirl?'

He nosed at her cheek as he teased her.

Her eyes went as wide as saucers, 'Dad!' she exclaimed in a mock whisper, 'They aren't Teddy's, they all have names.'

'Yeah, Jk, how can you call them Teddy's,' Jin played along, just as scandalized at his dongsaengs choice of words.

Mouth twitching, the mole on his chin, shifting at the movement, he raised an eyebrow at his hyung, 'I'm surprised you didn't get her the RJ.'

'Now, now, I did explain the perks of having RJ, but she is Daddy's little girl.' They smiled, endeared with the toddler between them.

It was the last proper, happy outing they had, ice-cream, feeding the seagulls, playing in the sand, her best days with her father and her Uncle Jin.

----------

‘I don't care what happens to me, I don’t care about the money! Just please save my baby, please!’ Jungkook was enraged, angry at the world, helpless, desperate.

Stage 4. She was only a child, her tiny body fit in his arms, her form only half of him.

It came out of nowhere, severe bruising and bleeding when she fell down, or got cut. Trouble breathing when she ran, nausea when she ate and sometimes not wanting to eat at all. Waking up to her cries in the middle of the night, sniffling quietly, at the pains in her body.

Too many symptoms, too many blood tests later, too many restless, sleepless nights, she was diagnosed with leukemia.

There were weeks of waiting for results, test after test, of having to sit her in his lap, and explain why she needed to see countless doctors and that things would get better, that it was just for now.

But as he stood opposite her doctor, his hyung holding his shoulder, he had to go home and tell her he lied. He lied.

He'd have to tell her that there was no turning back, and if it was too late for his daughter, the love of his life, the very center of his world, for him, there would be no way forward.

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He stood at the doorway of her hospital room, having just gone home to change up and get her favorite mac and cheese. The sight he met every single time, not something he had gotten used to, despite the number of weeks he’d been at the forefront of it all.

The tubes along her face, her nose, in her arms, something a baby should never have to go through. A parent should never have to think about outliving their child. It wasn’t the cycle. It wasn’t fair.

She deserved, to hit double digits, to find love, to have him fight the need to protect her from every mistake, to always be there for her, she deserved friends, memories, the chance to discover hobbies, she deserved more time.

The saddest part was that she was too young to think of any of those things, and yet, maybe it could also be a blessing.

What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you, right.

Blinking back tears he plastered a fake smile on his face, the brightest one he felt he could muster. ‘Hey, babygirl.’

She looked up, a small smile, slowly making its way up her cheeks, her face pale. Opening her mouth to speak, he shook his head at her. ‘No, no, shh, baby, don’t hurt your throat.’

Making his way over to her bed, he gingerly climbed in next to her, the nurses used to his presence, the doctors having no objection considering the care he had with her as he slotted himself protectively over her.

Pecking her on the head, he took note of the scrapbook in her hand. She looked at it everyday, pictures of her six loving uncles, Taehyung plaiting her hair, Jimin showing her tiny jewelry pieces, stick-ons for her ears, Namjoon with a bunch of block letters, a tower of it clearly having collapsed around them. Her Uncle Hobi always made her smile, as he had her on his back and his neck, walked her around the apartments like he was her personal chauffeur, Yooni holding her as she slept, light music playing in the background, and her Uncle Jin, her favourite Uncle Jin, always around, choosing school bags, spoiling her with anything she wanted, anything that caught her eye, especially morning blueberry waffles and her dad, Jungkook, her dad, the youngest, the one with the most time, the most allowance to make reckless decisions, the one who adapted his whole life around her inclusion in his life.

‘Hey, remember the story of your first birthday,’ His voice exuberant at her cake covered face,’when you didn’t want to wear the red jacket Uncle Tae gave you, and you cried for his instead,’ he petted her head as he searched her face for recognition.

She pouted at the mention of it, the story recounted so many times before,’Uncle Tae’s jacket was purple, Dad. How could I not want it,’ Her cheekiness earned her a light flick to her nose.

She upturned it crossly, a little zest in her eyes at the familiar chastising.

They paused, looking at each other, before the smile slowly disappeared from her face, the reaction apparently contagious as Jungkook sat up in concern. ‘Dad,’ she started softly, her eyes trained on the blanket covering her legs, ’are you gonna forget me?’

Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat at the innocent question, striving to show no reaction on his face. Moving swiftly, he worked his way around the cables and maneuvered her into his lap. They tried, he tried, and she had been so strong but even at her tender age she knew it, he knew it, the time for sugar coated words, and false hopes were over, acceptance was all that was left.

‘Close your eyes,’ he prompted, wiping tears he could no longer hold back, away from his eyes.‘Can you see me?’

‘My eyes-,’

‘No, keep them closed, can you see me,’ he reiterated, beside himself.

‘No, I can’t see you.’

‘But you can hear me right,’ taking note of her face, her nose, her cute cheeks, he waited for her answer.

‘Yes, I can hear you.’

‘Well,’ he sniffled, head falling against her forehead lightly, the contact needed, ’that’s what it will be like. I will always be here for you. I will always talk to you, and I promise,’ his hand found hers and squeezed it, ’I will never forget you. You may not see me and I may not see you, but you will always be the biggest part of me. And I promise, I will never, ever, forget you.’

He broke at his last words, pulling her into his embrace, holding his Moon, wishing with everything he had left, he would never have to let her go.

Moon passed that night, in her sleep, in his arms, as painless as it could possibly be. Knowing what was going to happen, couldn’t have prepared Jungkook for the real thing. But he knew he had to let go of her lifeless body, he knew he had to call the one person who could handle him or whatever came next for him, and as soon as he saw his Jin hyung, the one that named his perfect girl, he fell into his arms and cried, as his heart shattered into pieces.

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Standing at doorways were his thing these days, he thought, everything he did was not enough, not too much, like sitting on the fence, falling in the middle.

It had been a year, but he couldn’t clean out this room, he still woke up at 5am despite his flexible job because he had to take care of her routine, maybe someday he would have to stop coming in here, but right now, the made bed, the unused room, the stillness of it all, would remind him that even for a time, he had something beautiful, something worth all that pain, a human that he would meet someday again.

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#bts #bts jk #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #jk #bts angst #bts drabble #bts writing #jungkook angst #bts sad #jungkook #bts au #bts au fic #bts aus #bts au fanfic #bts fic

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

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tell me where it hurts

Carlos stands as Owen and Gwyn leave, heading over to the bed and laying a tentative hand on the railing. TK smiles dopily up at him, eyes halfway to closed, and Carlos has to grin at the sight.

“Only you could make a hospital gown look cute."

tk and carlos, sharing a quiet moment

ao3 | 1.4k | 2.08

Carlos stands as Owen and Gwyn leave, heading over to the bed and laying a tentative hand on the railing. TK smiles dopily up at him, eyes halfway to closed, and Carlos has to grin at the sight.

“Only you could make a hospital gown look cute,” he says, shaking his head. TK’s smile widens, and he lazily reaches out, lacing their fingers together.

“You think I’m cute?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” Carlos huffs a laugh, glancing down to their joined hands before meeting TK’s eyes again. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. “I should head out too,” he says softly. “You need to rest.”

Carlos tries to pull away, but TK frowns and holds on tighter. “What do you mean?” he asks, pouting.

“You said your head was hurting,” Carlos replies, “and you practically kicked your parents out. I figured you’d want some peace and quiet.”

TK shakes his head, though it’s more just a gentle roll on the pillow. “From them, yeah,” he says. “I want you here. That is...if that’s okay?”

He bites his lip, looking at Carlos anxiously, and Carlos’s heart aches for the hundredth time that day. He can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be; god knows he won’t be able to sleep at home, knowing TK is laid up in hospital and not by his side.

“Of course it is.” He kisses TK’s head, mindful of his wound, and goes to grab the chair, but once again TK pulls him back. Carlos frowns, only for his eyes to widen as TK awkwardly shifts to the right and stares pointedly at the space next to him. “No.”

“Carlos,” TK whines, pulling out the puppy dog eyes - which Carlos will not fall for again. Not tonight, anyway.

“TK,” he mimics. “That bed is barely big enough for you, there’s no way -”

“Carlos, get your damn ass up here or I’m dragging you up.”

Carlos manages to hold firm for a few seconds more, but so does TK, and he knows there’s no way he’s winning this one. The only sensible thing to do is to comply, because TK has that look in his eye that lets him know he will attempt to drag Carlos up given half the chance, and he could really do without his boyfriend causing himself further harm. He heaves an exaggerated sigh, then gingerly sits on the edge on the bed, swinging his legs up and laying back slowly. He was right - there really isn’t enough room, and it’s a little awkward, but they make it work.

TK smiles at him, their faces barely an inch apart. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

Carlos reaches out, stroking TK’s cheek with the back of his hand. TK’s eyes flutter shut, and Carlos is content to watch him for a while, feeling his own eyelids grow heavy as the day catches up to him. He’s on the verge of drifting off when TK speaks again, voice slurred with exhaustion.

“Thank you for rescuing us.”

“Always. Though, try not to make a habit of needing it,” he jokes.

TK’s eyes crack open, bright with mirth. “I’ll try,” he laughs, then winces, letting out a pained grunt.

Carlos immediately sobers, searching his boyfriend’s face. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” TK says. “It hurts, but I can handle it.”

Carlos sighs, pulling back slightly to get a proper look at him. “I don’t just mean your head, Ty,” he says. “I mean, are you okay? Your mom said you shut down earlier.”

TK’s smile drops and, for the first time since his parents left, he turns his head away from Carlos, gaze going blankly to the ceiling. His hand - the one not still held in Carlos’s - picks at the thin hospital sheets, rubbing the material between his thumb and forefinger. Carlos keeps watching him, knowing that TK will talk in his own time.

“It was just a lot,” he starts eventually, sighing heavily. “You know, I really thought that things were finally working out - that we actually had a second chance at being a real family. I mean, I can’t really remember a time in my life when my parents weren’t arguing, and I’ve spent years hoping and praying for an opportunity just like this one. I guess I got too attached to the idea, and blinded myself to everything else that was going on because when I got home and saw those boxes…”

He breaks off and squeezes his eyes shut, a lone tear rolling down his cheek. Carlos aches to brush it away, but he holds back, sensing that the touch wouldn’t be welcome.

“When I saw the boxes,” TK continues, clearing his throat, “it felt like I was seven years old all over again. My family was imploding and no-one had given me any warning or told me why, and I was just there, watching it all happen. And then Mom told me about the baby, and Enzo, and I just - I just couldn’t process it. Like, at all. I know it’s stupid and - and childish to still be clinging onto this...fantasy of my family, but I just. I really wanted this to work, you know?”

TK’s voice cracks, and he looks back to Carlos, unshed tears glinting under the hospital fluorescents. This time, Carlos does reach out, gently running his thumb under TK’s eye, and he leans in to press a kiss to his brow, just underneath the gauze.

“It’s not stupid,” he murmurs, smiling sadly. “It’s okay to be upset over this, Ty, you know that, right?”

TK shrugs. “I guess.” He breathes out shakily, blinking hard. “I will miss her. But after today… I mean, I was joking when I compared them to that couple, but there’s nothing like getting kidnapped at gunpoint and held hostage to put things in perspective. Not even getting shot.”

Carlos laughs despite himself - despite the reminder of just how close he came to losing TK yet again. He shakes his head and kisses him again, lightly swatting at his hip. “Do me a favour and try not to test that theory, babe.”

“No promises.” TK grins impishly before it softens into something gentler, and it’s his turn to reach out to Carlos. His hand brushes his cheek, travelling downwards along his arm to wrap around his wrist, right on Carlos’s pulse point. “Speaking of parents, how are things with your dad?” he asks. “Is the investigation still going on?”

Carlos shrugs. “Yeah, but considering that I was right about everything, I don’t think they can build much of a case against me. Hopefully, I’ll be back soon.”

“Good,” TK says, his face flooding with a pride that warms Carlos’s chest. “If they don’t, I guess I’ll have to march down there myself and let them all know what idiots they’re being.”

Carlos raises an amused eyebrow. “Not that I wouldn’t appreciate it,” he replies, “but if you think you’re marching anywhere anytime soon, you’re very much mistaken. They might be releasing you from this bed in the morning, but I intend to keep you in mine for at least the next week.”

TK grins. “Is that a promise, Officer Reyes?”

“It’s a threat,” he corrects, but he can’t keep from grinning back, a comfortable silence falling between them. TK shuffles down in the bed to rest his head carefully against Carlos’s shoulder, and Carlos lays his arm across his chest, pressing a kiss into his hair.

“He wants to meet you, by the way,” he murmurs. “My dad.”

TK shifts against him, his head tilting upwards slightly. “You told?”

“He told me, actually,” Carlos says, huffing a small laugh. “Apparently he’s known about us since the market.”

“And…” TK’s fingers fiddle with his, the silence drawing out a few seconds longer. “Are you okay with that?”

“It was a surprise,” he admits. “But I’m glad it’s all out in the open now. I didn’t realise how much it was weighing on me until now.”

TK hums, squeezing Carlos’s hand once before settling into his side again. “I’m glad,” he says, voice muffled from sleep.

“Me too.” Carlos kisses TK’s head. “Get some rest, Ty.”

He doesn’t need to say it twice; TK is dead to the world not five minutes later, snoring gently. Carlos stifles a laugh, and eases himself into a more comfortable position, his own eyes drifting closed.

That’s how the nurses find them a few hours later, entwined around each other, and at peace.

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daddyjackfrost · 3 years

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i accidentally deleted your request anon😭 but i managed to take a pic before! so, here it is!

prompt 36: “fuck you scared me... don’t you do that ever again!”

prompt 37: “are you afraid to die?”

warnings: angst, talk about death, kinda grim, self indulgent (just a bit! y/n’s thought process) car accident, loss of memory, crying osamu

osamu miya x gn!reader (intended lower case)

in the comfort of the darkness, you sat on your sweater on a hill that overlooked your neighbourhood.

after a long day of school and work, you managed to squeeze some time of solitude for your thoughts.

with your knees pulled to your chest and your chin resting on your crossed arms, you inhaled the sweet scent of freedom.

out here, away from the busy streets and tall buildings, you were free. out here, with only the trees and stars to keep you company, you were content with life.

you heard rustling behind you and shut your eyes, inhaling a long breath before you heard a familiar voice quietly call out to you.

“here,” you whispered.

you didn’t turn, nor did you look up. osamu laid a jacket beside you before sitting down next to you. his arm brushing against yours.

“how’d you know it was me?”

you smiled. it was the same question he asked you every time he received a text from you and met you up on your hill. and every time, you gave him the same answer.

“just a hunch.”

osamu drifted his eyes away from your face to the stars. there wasn’t much of a difference, he thought. the stars were just as captivating as you, you more so. you were just as fascinating as the stars, shining brightly in solitude and the dark.

without making any unnecessary noises, osamu leaned back on his hands, kicking his legs out in front of him.

he needed this break just as much as you did.

in the silence of the night, you and osamu sat together, letting the stress and sorrows of the previous week slip away.

simultaneously, you both leaned back, your heads resting on the soft fresh grass.

you gently shut your eyes, reminiscing in the quiet atmosphere. no one was here to bother you. there were no looming assignments or demeaning parents.

out here, it was just you and the stars.

and osamu.

“are ya afraid to die?”

your eyes flew open, and you turned your head, grass tickling your cheek.

osamu’s dark grey eyes twinkled as he stared into your eyes. you thought about his question. obscure thoughts tangled with apparent ones.

you turned your head, facing the dark sky.

“not really.”

osamu hummed. “why not?”

you lifted your hand, spreading your fingers so each nail connect with a stare.

“because it’s inevitable.”

osamu raised his eyebrow. shifting to his side to face you completely. “care to expand?”

“i’m not afraid to die because the second you’re welcomed into this world, you’re introduced to the concept of death. you know you’re going to die. so you live while you can.”

osamu’s eyes were set on you. you always sounded so old—mature—when you talked like this. like you knew things he couldn’t understand.

fate he couldn’t fathom.

“i’m not afraid to die because i’ve been preparing for it my whole life.”

you turned your head to meet osamu’s curious eyes.

“that’s a bit depressing,” osamu laughs.

you grin at him, your lips pulling into a breathtaking smile. “it is.”

after a few silent moments, you whispered,

“memento mori.”

“what?”

you pretended to squish the stars in between your thumb and index finger like grapes.

“it’s a latin phrase that originated from ancient rome.”

“what does it mean?”

osamu loved your knowledge of random things. he knew an abundance of phrases from different origins because of you.

“remember that you will die.”

“god, y/n,” osamu sighed. “you’re so grim.”

you smiled. “what? it keeps me grounded.” osamu let out a light chuckle.

“no matter what i do, how much money i make, who i marry, i’m not going to live forever. i won’t go down in history unless i do something monumental. i’ll live, i’ll aim for a good life, and then, inevitably, i’ll die. it helps remind me that stress and sadness does eventually come to and end.”

you licked your lips. “are you afraid to die?”

osamu shrugged. “yeah. i am.”

you shifted your weight to your side so you were completely facing him. with your arm bent under your head, you rested your head on your elbow.

“how come?”

osamu shifted his eyes to the ground before meeting yours again.

“i guess i’m afraid of not living my life to the fullest. i wanna be happy. do things that’ll make me smile. i wanna die knowing i lived the best i could.”

you gently smiled at him. “what’s stopping you?”

silence.

osamu stared at you like he didn’t know how to comprehend your question.

what was stopping him?

he was young, talented, and persistent.

a heavy realization fell upon osamu. there was nothing stopping him. he was stopping him.

the only person who stood between his happiness, was himself.

with a goofy smile, osamu turned to face the stars.

“nothing. nothing at all.”

you smiled at him, happy he understood. you gently pushed yourself up, letting out a small yawn. you stretched your arms, sighing when you heard your shoulders quietly crack.

“time to go home.”

osamu let out a whine. “do we have too?”

you stood up, brushing your jeans with your hands. you grabbed your sweater, slipping it on.

“yes, ‘samu.” you narrowed your eyes at his frown. “we have school tomorrow.”

osamu rolled his eyes, but got up anyways. he grabbed his jacket, throwing it over his shoulder.

“let’s go home then.”

you both walked down the hill and into the street, bickering and laughing.

your heart felt so full. this is what you were afraid of losing. this laughter and feeling of content. you weren’t afraid of dying, you were afraid of loosing the feeling of your heart being full forever.

so when you pushed osamu out of the way, and a car came blazing towards you, you didn’t have a moment to think about what was going to happen.

only that you really liked laughing and would miss it.

before the pain took over, you remembered hearing osamu’s loud and panicked voice yell your name. the last thing you saw were his tear-filled grey eyes.

***

the smell of antiseptic, stainless steel, and blood filled your senses and your eyes flew open.

as quickly as you opened your eyes, you squeezed them shut. the bright lights of the hospital room too strong for your weak eyes.

the machines around you buzzed and you groaned. pain had enveloped you completely and you licked your dry lips.

your head was pounding and your memory was hazy. you pulled yourself up, wincing in pain when the iv in your arm moved with you.

you gently opened your eyes, blinking to get used to the bright white light.

your eyes swept across the large hospital room and your frowned.

how did i get here?

your eyes fell on a mop of grey hair and you blinked a few times to clear your vision. your eyes took in the male sitting by your bed, his eyes closed and his lips pulled into a frown.

you tried putting a name to the far familiar face, but you came up empty, and at that thought, you started spluttering, trying to form words.

at the sound of your hoarse breath, the grey-haired man’s eyes flew open and locked on you.

your eyes were locked on the rheumy and heavy-lidded eyes, the taste of familiarity on your tongue but unidentifiable.

“y/n...”

the voice you had heard in your dreams whispered a name you knew was yours.

you licked your cracks lips. “water.”

immediately, the trance the man was in has broken and he sprang up, grabbing a water bottle and handing it to you. you hesitatingly grabbed it, staring at the lid before gently twisting it.

the man stared at you, his eyes burning holes into you. you kept your gaze on your bed, afraid of the pain you felt when you looked at him.

he quickly left the room, yelling an unfamiliar name loudly.

you drank half of the water bottle before twisting the cap back on. you leaned back, wincing. you gingerly brought your hand to your forehead, gasping at the feeling of bandage.

a tall, thin and pale man with light brown hair and round glasses walked into the room. he wore a long white coat and was holding a clipboard. the same man with grey hair and a women of much shorter height with tear-stained cheeks walked in behind him.

the man, whom you assumed was a doctor, walked up to you, keeping a distance. he smiled at you before motioning to the chair beside you.

you nodded, unable to use your words.

“y/n, i’m doctor kim.” he waited before you met his eyes. “do you know where you are?”

you stared at him. he waited patiently until you gently nodded. “the hospital.”

doctor kim smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“that’s right. can you tell me your full name?”

you stared at him, your eyebrows furrowed. you tried remembering, but your head began to hurt profoundly. it was like there was a wall that separated you from your memories.

“it’s okay,” doctor kim whispered. “you must feel disoriented.”

you didn’t nod, just fought the wall. you knew that you had a last name. it was right there, but unaccessible.

after a few painfully silent moments later, you let out a heavy sigh.

“l/n. y/n l/n.”

doctor kim smiled and the women in the corner of the room let out a sob, her hand coming to cover her mouth.

you stared at the women, a wave of familiarity hit you and you frowned. you knew her. so why couldn’t you remember?

“y/n,” you turned your head to face the calm eyes of the doctor. “you were in an accident.”

your frown deepened. “i don’t... remember.”

doctor kim nodded, his eyes glancing at the clipboard before he smiled a faux smile at you.

“you hit your head really hard. it’ll take you a few days to regain all your memories. you remember your name, that’s great process. over the week, your memories should all come back to you.”

you nodded. an accident? why didn’t you remember? and why was the man with grey hair staring at you like that?

doctor kim checked the machines before making his way to the door. he smiled at you and then looked at the women.

“ms. l/n, can you come with me to fill out a few pages?”

your breath hitched. your eyes were locked on familiar ones and you quietly whispered, “mom?”

your mother painfully smiled at you before running out the door behind the doctor. you watched her go with a frowned.

you turned your head to the man who stood in the corner. his posture was rigid and you were sure he hadn’t blinked since he walked in the room. his gaze unwavering.

you shifted your eyes from his, his gaze too intense.

“can i... can i sit?”

you nodded. his voice was intensely familiar. it was the voice you heard in your dreams. the one you had grew attached too.

osamu sat on the chair with hesitation. he was feeling so many things at once. you had been in a week long coma, and osamu hadn’t had a moment of rest since he sat with you in the ambulance.

osamu let out a heavy sigh, bringing his hands to cover his face. you watched him from the corner of your vision. he felt so familiar, so why couldn’t you recall his name?

osamu began to cry, his shoulders shaking.

you turned your head to face him, your lips set into a permanent frown. for some reason unknown to you, your heart hurt at the sight of his tears.

“fuck, y/n,” osamu lifted his head. his eyes brimmed with red. “you scared me.”

you stared at him, unsure of what to do. you didn’t know why you had scared him. but his shoulders shook and his lips trembled, so you stayed quiet.

“don’t you— don’t you do that ever again!”

you just silently watched as the grey-haired man cried and yelled at you. “don’t you ever push me away! don’t you ever try and save me again!”

the room was heavy with silence. the grey haired man sobbed into his hands and the machines buzzed in your head.

you don’t know what compelled you to say this, but you did anyways. it felt right. like the man crying in front of you deserved to hear these words.

“i won’t. i’m sorry.”

at the sound of your voice, his crying grew quieter and after a few moments, he wiped his tears, his bloodshot eyes staring at you.

“promise me.”

you saw the whirlpool of emotions in his grey eyes and although you couldn’t decipher them, you promised anyways.

when he smiled, his cheeks using muscles it hadn’t in a week, you suddenly felt guilty.

you had promised to a stranger.

a stranger who seemed to know you better than you knew yourself.

a stranger who seemed to think you knew him.

i didn’t know what kind of angst you wanted anon, so i kinda went with the flow! also, i was too lazy to add capitals. so. i think it adds to the theme. sure.

also yes. doctor kim from dr. romantic. sue me.

taglist: @h-grangerstudies @elektrosonix @snoozless @ackerpotato @asterroidd @rinrinniesstuff @bokuatsubro @literaleftist @howcanyoubreathewithnozaire @addicedtoeverythinganime @felixsamour @megumeee @aghashiii @fail-big @kailleis-sunshine

requests are closed.

hana’s author note.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu angst #miya osamu #hq osamu #osamu scenarios #osamu x reader #osamu angst #osamu x y/n #hq x you #hq angst #haikyuu imagines #hq #hq imagines #hq prompts #hana.writes!

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soulmate-game · 3 years

Text

This is an alternate ending for my Bio!dad Joker / Bio!mom Harley AU. Or really, the timeline itself will be entirely different starting from the moment that Marinette’s plane lands in Gotham. If you haven’t read the original, you can do so here.

—*—*—*—*—*

“He’s going to find out, Mom.”

“No he won’t, don’t be silly! I’ve been very careful about hiding you from him, Nettie-pie.”

“Mom… I just have a bad feeling. I don’t think we can hide who I am from him. If he sees me, I think he’ll know.”

The phone went silent.

“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. If I was crazy about him, Sugar, then I’m head over heels for you. Not even he can stop me from caving his skull in if he tries his usual tricks with you.”

“... My plane leaves soon, I’ll talk to you when I land. And mom?”

“Yeah, honeycake?”

“I love you.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette often hated how accurate her intuition tended to be. She had barely even stepped out of the airport before she had felt the prick of a needle in her neck and the sensation of being shoved into a small, dark space before her vision cut out.

Looks like her mom wasn’t able to hide her existence away as well as they thought.

And unfortunately for Marinette, her darling asshole of a father had apparently had ample time to plan his first meeting with her. If he had just used the much easier to acquire Chloroform on her, then Marinette likely would have woken up early enough to come up with a plan. Chloroform was unreliable and wore off fairly easily. But no, he had actually had the time to steal hospital grade anesthetic.

Which meant that Marinette woke up with her wrists zip-tied to heavy links of chain above her head, and her ankles connected to the chain below her with what felt like ten layers of duct tape.

Lovely.

“Ah, there she is! Good morning, sleepyhead!” Those were the high-pitched, dramatic words she heard when she came back to consciousness. She didn’t even need to open her eyes to know who the speaker was— she had watched enough videos online and not-so-legally obtained Asylum and Prison footage to immediately recognize the speech patterns and tone that was echoing around her.

Apparently keeping her eyes closed was not allowed, because it was only a few seconds later that Marinette felt a harsh slap sting her cheek and whip her face to the side. Oh, that would become a bruise without a doubt. Her teeth betrayed her, cutting into the inside of her mouth with the force of the hit. So, when Marinette opened her eyes to glare at the sperm donor responsible for half of her DNA, she aimed her bloody spit right at him. It landed on his shoe, which only a few seconds later slammed into her gut.

Marinette gasped for air even as the chain she was on swung violently, making her dizzy and upsetting her stomach. Too bad she didn’t have anything in there to throw up on him, she thought angrily. The chain links rattled loudly, ringing in her head alongside the electric pain of both of her newly forming bruises.

“Honestly, is that any way to treat your dear ol’ Daddy?” Joker cooed with false offense, one hand over his heart. Marinette glared at him as best as she could as she continued to sway in the open air, the chain she was tied to being the only thing keeping her from plunging straight down into a vat of sickly green, bubbling liquid.

Marinette didn’t need to be told what that liquid was. And joker knew that, the moment he saw her look down at that vat and saw the realization almost immediately cross her face. So instead of explaining, he laughed. Loud, high, and deranged.

“Good, good! That idiot Harley kept you educated, at least,” he said between psychotic chuckles. “Ah yes, and she somehow managed to choose the perfect name,” he glided over to her, as if he was some ethereal demon of chaos instead of a human. His paper-white hand reached out, grabbing her chin in a crushing grip and turning her face this way and that. Inspecting her as if she was a piece of china and not a living being. “So easy to adjust. Right now, you’re Marinette. Just like how, all those years ago, your mother stood here as Harleen. But just as she was dunked into acid and became my harlequin,” he stepped back and grabbed Marinette’s shoulders. He spun her like a top, making the metal chain creak and clink as it wound into a few weak coils and then released back out, trying to go straight again. It sent Marinette twirling through the air in a horrid half-spin, one-eighty degrees one way before sharply spinning to the other side. Joker laughed.

“Just like that, you’re gonna go from boring old Marinette,” he stuck out his tongue like a child, as if the mere taste of her name was bitter. “And you’ll be reborn as my new little Marionette. Aren’t you excited?!”

“Fuck you,” Marinette spat, even as she tried to blink and return her vision to normal. She was far too disoriented to even come up with a plan— but she was still coherent enough to register that the sky was dark outside the high windows of the factory she was apparently in. She had been missing for a few hours then, which meant that her mom and Momma Ivy would have called for help a long time ago. Maybe if she just stalled long enough, it would get there in time. “I’m not a puppet. Not for you, not for anybody!” She snarled.

Joker rolled his eyes, but his smile still widened. “Oh, that’s what they all say. In fact, your mother put up a good resistance there for a while, but her inner chaos couldn’t resist me. You’ll bend even easier, I have no doubt,” her ran his hand along her cheek in a motion that was so gentle that it felt foreign, wrong, to her coming from him. She knew what he was doing. He was trying to whiplash her, take all her hope away before dangling the option he wanted her to choose in front of her like a carrot on a stick.

Too bad he didn’t know her at all. She cringed away from his gentle touch, revolted by the mere feel of his skin on her’s.

“And your accent is a nice touch,” he cooed as if her reaction didn’t bother him at all. It probably didn’t. “Exotic. Just the thing I need to freshen up my usual act a bit, the Boston twang my old Harlequins had is just… stale by now, don’t you agree?”

Marinette clenched her jaw at the reminder that he had tried to pass off a cheap look-alike as her mom when she disappeared, back when she was pregnant with Marinette, to hide her baby from Joker. How he had discarded that woman like trash when Harley went back to him, only to replace her again when her mom left him for good.

No matter how badly Joker spoke of her mom, Marinette knew that Harley had been the only Harlequin of his to actually last. The only one he kept around, and there was a reason for that. Now, he was looking for another replacement. One that was more than a cheap knockoff, and he was hoping that a teenager with not only Harley’s genetics, but also his own, would be the exact kind of right-hand prop he wanted. An obedient little puppet of chaos, just for him.

But Marinette was nobody's toy. She had been used and taken advantage of enough back in Paris, she had spent her whole life struggling to escape the side effects of her parentage. To deal with the things she inherited.

The obsessiveness, the way she was so quick to get attached. She knew she inherited that from her mom. But there was also the rage, the anger that Marinette constantly had to stuff down. Hide below the surface before it hurt someone. Keep under a tight reign and hide away in the back of her mind, her own dirty little secret.

The constant reminder of just who her biological father was. Because that anger, that viciousness, could only have come from him.

She had spent her whole life trying to carve herself her own identity, to create beauty with the chaotic elements she got from her blood. And she couldn’t blame her mother, not really. Her mother at least did her best to help, and always leant an empathetic ear when Marinette needed it. But Joker?

Oh, she could, and would, blame him even long after he was dead and gone. Because he was the one who hurt her mother, he was the one who twisted her and drove her to feel unfit to be a parent. And sometimes, Marinette thought it would be better if Joker never existed. Sure, that meant she never would have been born. But wouldn’t that have been easier, too? To not ever have to experience the struggle that came with being his daughter, a title she never consented to?

But she couldn’t change the past. She was alive, and she would use her life to spite everything that the Joker stood for. That would be her revenge. He wanted a toy?

Joker had been monologuing, but Marinette drowned it all out as she kept her periphery vision on the windows above her. Shadows moved out there, with familiar bright yellows and shadowy blacks. The bats were there. She just needed to stall.

She opened her mouth. Joker pulled a lever.

Marinette dropped.

Wire whizzed through the air, knocking the breath out of Marinette as it wound around her torso. She was barely able to piece together what was happening; one of the bats shot a human-safe grapple to try and pull her away from the acid.

But the chain and her restraints were stronger, heavier, and just dragged the grapple down with her body.

The impact sent a large wave of sickly green liquid surging over the side of the vat, and Marinette was dragged from view underneath the surface.

It burned.

She distantly felt the tape around her ankles peel itself away from her skin, the combination of acid and wetness rendering it useless. She felt the chemicals burning at her, sending painful tingles across every last inch of her skin. It got in her mouth, she didn’t have any breath in her to hold and ended up swallowing some. It seared her throat and created a river of lava inside her. It hurt.

It hurt so bad, she just wanted out. Out. Out. Out!

Someone pull her out now!

The zip tie around her wrist loosened enough for her to pull herself free, right as something heavy slammed into the heavy metal bowl. The entire container sloshed, slamming to fall onto its side. Marinette’s body was pulled alongside the rush of liquid as it flowed out, and she was able to breathe air again. Sweet, cooling air.

And then she hacked up acid, spitting and spewing it in an attempt to purge every last drop she had accidentally ingested. Like a cat choking on a hairball, she coughed and hacked and her chest convulsed and contracted to try and help her. Her ribs ached, she figured that the grapple that had tried to save her had ended up fracturing or breaking a rib or two. But all she cared about was breathing and getting rid of the chemicals she had inhaled. She needed it out. All of it. Out. Out. Out of her!

“Try to take a deep breath,” a gruff voice commanded, soft but solid. Something stable for her to cling to. So she did as it asked, forcing herself to stop hacking and instead focus on inhaling. As slowly as she could. It was difficult, the first few breaths cut themselves off with more involuntary coughing, but the owner of the gruff voice stayed nearby. Repeated it’s request. “Deep breath. Steady, now. In. Out. Good.”

Marinette was just starting to calm down, just starting to claw herself out of the haze of panic and adrenaline, when that wretched laugh cut through the air again.

“There you are! Heheheheh! My cute little Marionette!”

Marinette froze. She could barely think, barely understand her own emotions. But she knew she was different now. She knew there was no way back, he had taken it from her. He had taken her normality, he had taken all of her years of hard work and burned them right in front of her.

He had won. The bats hadn’t been fast enough. But, if her foggy mind was correct, Batman was the one trying to bring her back to lucidity. Batman was the one trying to help her get air back in her lungs.

Not her so-called father.

If he wanted a toy, she’d be a haunted doll. She’d harass him, haunt him, until he wanted nothing to do with her. She’d come back, like a possessed porcelain doll refusing to be thrown away. She would make him regret ever awakening the monster that she had spent so long forcing down. Because she was her father’s daughter, yes. But she was also her mother’s daughter.

And most importantly, she was Marinette Quinzel-Isley. Her own damned person. The Chosen wielder of the Creation miraculous. And she would never bow down and be used by anyone, ever again.

Tikki’s words from so long ago echoed in her mind. Resounded even louder than Joker’s laughter;

“That’s all order really is, Marinette. The decision to take all the chaos and madness around us, and make it make sense. Make it do something good.”

And wasn’t that everything Marinette had ever done? It was a part of her now. Like a tattoo she had inked into her very soul.

She took the chaos she was given, and turned it into something beautiful. And right now? Right now, the most beautiful thing she could think of was Joker’s face when she slammed her fist into it.

“Easy,” Batman repeated, but for a different reason now. Marinette’s lungs still stuttered a little, but her breathing was mostly under control. Now, he was saying it because Marinette was forcing herself to her feet. Her legs trembled under her, threatening to lay her out on the floor again. But she was every bit as stubborn as Joker, which made for a terrifying combination with her all-consuming fury. The acid had broken the mental chains Marinette had been using to hold it back, and now it burned fierce and bright in her eyes.

So Marinette kept herself up right, cognizant of Batman’s hand on her shoulder but ignoring it. She grit her teeth against the burning light of the room, everything suddenly too bright and colorful. Too vibrant. But it did little to distract her. She realized that one of her hands still gripped the heavy chain that had sent her drowning in the acid, and sent a snarl at her darling, jackass of a father as she whipped it out right towards him.

“Marinette!” Batman yelled, his grip tightening on her shoulder. But he didn’t pull her back, which spoke louder than any words he could have said to her right then. He wouldn’t save Joker from his daughter, he knew the man deserved at least this much pain. And sure enough, the metal links slammed right into Joker’s side, winding around him like a crushing whip.

But that was all Marinette had the strength to do. As soon as she saw Joker’s body hit the floor, writhing in agony and painfully loud cackles, her hand let go of the chain and her body tumbled down. Batman caught her.

“Red Hood, Nightwing, get Joker back to Arkham,” Batman’s order faded in and out of focus. Now that her most pressing desire was taken care of, the effects of the acid reared their ugly heads with renewed ferocity. Everything was too bright, too loud, and her thoughts echoed in her head like voices wrestling for supremacy. “Robin, Black Bat, stay on alert. Harley said that she’s incredibly trained,” he warned his partners. Marinette didn’t begrudge him, the only other two people who had survived being dunked into those chemicals hadn’t exactly treated him with kindness and pacifism. But she could barely focus on them anyway, too distracted by trying to reign in the chaos in her mind.

But Joker would never stay silent, even as he was dragged away in chains.

“Hehehahahahaha! Paper white, paper white!” He jeered cheerfully. “That’s my girl! Violent just like Papa!” Red hood knocked him out with a harsh punch to the side of his neck before he could say another word. But it was enough— enough for Marinette to gasp in realization.

Her skin. It was paper white, just like his. Not even Harley’s skin had been bleached like the Joker’s after her dip in the acid. That had always been makeup. Her mom had a healthy, peachy complexion like anyone else. A complexion Marinette had shared— until now. Now, she was unhealthily pale. Just like him.

A painful screech tore itself from her already raw throat, and Marinette’s fingernails immediately began to tear at her own skin. Red. Red was better than white— she didn’t want to look like him. She couldn’t. White was bad. Bad. Bad. Bad.

“Marinette! Stop!” Strong hands clamped around her wrists, pulling her hands away from herself even as she wriggled and tried to keep clawing at herself.

“No! No no no!” Marinette howled. “I don’t wanna look like him! I don’t wanna be like him!” She managed to get one hand free and immediately tried to tear away at her face. Batman was able to wrestle her arm away before she could do any damage besides a few angry red lines. “I refuse! I refuse! I refuse!” She shook her head, not feeling as tears flung themselves off her cheeks.

“Okay,” Batman’s voice was solid again, soft and grumbly and stable. She grabbed at it again, drawn to anything that might help bring her stability. She needed his unflappable attitude right then, and he probably didn’t even realize how badly. “That’s good. But you don’t need to rip your skin off to do that, you know that right?”

Marinette hiccuped, finally sinking down to sob as the weight of everything she had lost pressed down over the chaos of deafening light and blinding sound that continued to jumble around inside her head. “He changed me,” she choked out. Batman nodded even though she wasn’t looking at him.

“He did.”

“Th-that f-fucking bastard,” Marinette managed a sad chuckle before devolving right back into sobs. “I wo-worked so h-hard. N-never hurt any-anybody. Never… never yelled. Ne-never hit… Not people who didn’t attack f-first.”

“I know. Your mom told me,” he confirmed calmly. Solid, tethering. Marinette swallowed another gulp of air, trying to calm down. But everything was too much.

“Mom!” She suddenly realized out loud, turning and grabbing at Batman’s chest, clinging to his uniform. She didn’t even care that she almost sliced herself on a batarang, she clung to him desperately with wide, crazed eyes. “G-get Mom and… and Ivy! They… they can help. They know—“ Marinette paused to breathe, then resumed. “Momma Ivy— she gave me—gave me a diluted… th-thingy, years ago, I can’t remember—“ Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed as she tried to get her mind to calm down. To work.

“The serum she gave Harley?” He asked. “The one that made her immune to poisons, and gave her increased physical abilities?”

“That!” Marinette agreed frantically, nodding. “I was too— too little, to give the real thing, so she diluted it,” she swallowed her spit and winced when it burned her throat. “It… I think it’s helping with the—the—the—“

“The chemical’s effects?” Batman suddenly sounded like he was paying much more attention than before, his shoulders a little straighter at her explanation. “You think it’s slowing down or numbing what it did to your mom and Joker?” Marinette couldn’t talk anymore, it hurt too much. Everything hurt too much, so she just nodded. “Good. That’s good, Marinette. Robin! Get Harley and Ivy down here, now!”

That was when the voices started. Sometime during the ten minutes it took to get her Mom and Ivy to her, they had apparently been waiting nearby anxiously incase the Bats had needed backup, the voices had built from ominous whispers to devious shouts, ordering her to do things like slam her elbow into Batman’s throat or see what happened if she splashed Robin with some of the acid that was still on the ground.

Her body didn’t move. She kept herself carefully still, focusing on ignoring her impulse to listen to one of the voices. She was still lucid enough to know that she would regret it if she did any of that. That the Bats were more on her side than any of the voices or the Joker were. But it was growing painful, and Harley and Ivy walked in to Batman trying to keep Marinette from hitting her own head. She had devolved to trying to knock herself out to get the voices to be quiet.

“Shut up,” she hissed, her voice hoarse and gravelly. “Shut up, shut up, shut. Up!” She was clearly talking to herself, her eyes screwed shut as she continued to try and hit her head. Harley gasped, hands flying to her mouth and eyes watering at the sight. This was something she had hoped she would never see.

“Harls,” Ivy spoke softly, putting a gentle arm around her wife’s back in support. It hurt Ivy to see Marinette in so much agony, but she knew it pained Harley even more. And much more personally. “Come on. We can help.”

“Y-you’re right,” Harley agreed shakily, taking a deep breath to try and compose herself before they both approached their daughter. Batman didn’t let go of Marinette, but did lean out of the way to give them access to her.

“Honeycake?” Harley called out softly, a little unsure how the chemicals were affecting her baby’s personality right then. The first few days were going to be the worst, and she knew that. The Dunk never took it easy on it’s victims. Marinette gasped, stopping her muttering and raising her head to look at Harley with wide eyes.

“Momma?”

Harley had to swallow heavily to shove back the sob that wanted to bubble up out of her. She had to be strong for her baby. She couldn’t break yet. But Marinette hadn’t called her Momma since she was little, now she called Pamela ‘Momma Ivy’ and her just ‘Mom’.

“It’s me, sugarplum,” she assured her daughter, kneeling down and cupping one of Marinette’s cheeks in her palm. And that was when she noticed it, and couldn’t help but widen her eyes in shock. But Marinette’s senses were so sensitive that she noticed it right away, and stiffened.

“Wh-what is it?” She grew frantic when Harley didn’t immediately respond, only winced in sympathy. Marinette knew that wasn’t good. “Mom? What is it? What did he do? What else did he do to me?”

“Darling,” Harley started, licking her lips nervously. “My sweet baby girl, your right eye… it’s green now, sugar.”

Marinette’s world froze. She tried to smile, but it came out lopsided and disbelieving. “No,” she somehow managed to breathe. “No, mom, I have your eyes. Your blue eyes. I love your eyes,” Her voice steadily got more and more panicked as she went on, not wanting to accept what her mother was clearly seeing. She watched as Harley’s face broke a little, a few tears escaping before the older woman could stop them. Marinette shook her head again, slipping her tiny wrist out of Batman’s hold and raising it to her eye. “No. It’s one of his tricks. He—he must have slipped a contact in my eye when I was passed out, that’s— that’s— that’s all—“ but her fingertip met her normal eye. No contact to be felt. Marinette’s hand fell into her lap limply. The room was absolutely silent as everyone gave her a few seconds to process just how much she had been changed, entirely against her will. She opened and closed her mouth, not sure whether she wanted to yell or curse or cry. Instead, her voice just came out in a very tiny, broken:

“...fuck.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette had gone mostly mute. She would say a word here or there, but for the most part she was doing a good impression of a vegetable. She stayed silent, as still as possible, and just stared at the ceiling of her hospital room.

She had been like that for the past two weeks they had been monitoring her in the Acid’s aftermath. Her ribs, which had turned out to only be bruised thankfully enough, had healed. Her cheek and torso were healed up too, only the barest hint of sickly yellow to show as a reminder of Joker’s hits on her. Sometimes the cameras would catch her talking to seemingly empty air, only for a nurse to rush in and see that Marinette had gone silent yet again.

Tikki was doing her best to help. She had been separated from Marinette, but Pamela had found Marinette’s purse and returned it— and subsequently Tikki— when they had gotten her to the hospital. She was the only person Marinette regularly spoke to, because Marinette knew Tikki understood. Tikki had been around since the Big Bang, she had seen worse things than a little insanity. Tikki had always been there to help her feel at ease with her mind and body. She shared a piece of Tikki’s soul, even, according to the tiny god.

But talking to anyone else was too hard. Too scary. She still had those damned voices at war in her mind, trying to convince her to do things that made her lock her joints and keep her body absolutely still before she acted on any of the coaxes. Possibilities she had never considered before came startlingly easy to her mind now— like how it would only take two seconds to tear her IV out and stab it into her nurse’s eye. How she could use her blanket to strangle Momma Ivy, or how she could fake jumping out the window and Harley wouldn’t waste a second trying to save her.

They were horrible thoughts. Intrusive, ugly, and far too loud. She didn’t want to act on any of them, but sometimes she found her fingers twitching only a second before she could follow through on one.

She spent a lot of time meditating, because of it. Which is why most people thought she was ignoring them. She didn’t mean to, she just needed to meditate. It was like her brain was a giant room filled with filing cabinets that held her thoughts and emotions. Her whole life, Marinette had carefully kept this room alphabetized, organized, and neat. Every file in its correct drawer. Until Joker had come along, and ripped the entire place apart. Tore certain files in half, broke her cabinets, ruined her filing system. And now she had to put the room back together, one drawer and piece of paper at a time.

That’s what the meditation was doing. She was getting reacquainted with herself. Learning what had changed in her mind and trying to adjust. She couldn’t be the old Marinette anymore, but she’d be damned if she let the Joker turn her into someone ugly like him.

So she needed time.

One day, towards the end of those two weeks, she got a visitor slipping through her window. Considering her room was on the tenth floor, she had it pretty narrowed down as to who it could be. Batman had visited her every night, a silent shadow in the corner, but he had already left for the day so it couldn’t be him. None of the other bats had dropped by after the second day.

She turned her head to see that that was now changed; Red Hood sat on her windowsill with one leg inside the room and the other bent on the sill itself. He looked the very picture of comfort despite being a stiff wind (or quick shove— no, bad brain) away from falling to his death. And then Hood took off his helmet, which was ugly enough to inspire some of the more violent suggestions in her brain and make them seem appealing.

“Ya know. Red Hood used to be what Joker called himself,” were the first words out of the vigilante’s mouth. Marinette’s eyebrows pulled down, and it was clear she was confused (and a little angry) at what he told her. He grinned, his eyes still hidden by the domino mask on his face. “Eh. The bastard killed me, ya know. I was the second Robin, a lifetime ago.”

Marinette’s eyes widened at that, and the violent voices dimmed and seemed to grow muffled. Marinette couldn’t quite understand what they were trying to tell her anymore, which made her figure that she had better pay attention to what Hood had to say. She licked her dry lips, and spoke softly. Her throat was still damaged from the acid, so she couldn’t speak very loudly yet.

“Then how are you… you know, here?”

The man chuckled. “Another group of assholes happens to have a magic pit in their basement. It’s a glowing green lake, ten different types of bad news. But it brings people back to life, and they dunked me in it without even caring for a second if I even wanted to come back.”

Marinette’s shoulders relaxed all on their own. It seemed to sink into her brain all at once, a simple:

Oh. He gets it.

“I guess the water doesn’t take it easy on your brain, either?” She hazarded an educated guess. He laughed, shaking his head.

“Not at all. I went off the deep end for a while, and killed a lotta people. They deserved it at least, but I don’t like how violent I was back then. Before I learned how to cope. Attacked people who were innocent. Red Robin almost died when I attacked him, back then, when he was just Robin.”

“Then why’d you keep calling yourself Red Hood?” She asked, tilting her head. He finally turned his head to look straight at her instead of just staring out the window. His grin widened, but it was lopsided. The grin of someone who was healed from some serious shit, but knew that it would always ache. A bittersweet expression.

“Cuz he doesn’t own that name. I made it into something that stands for at least a little good. Something that scares the assholes who don’t care about killing or abusing innocent people. Hell, some people take comfort in the name Red Hood now. And you know what that means?”

Marinette shook her head, and his grin widened into a shark-like smile.

“It means I stole it from him. The name Red Hood. He’ll never use it again, and now it stands for the opposite of anything he’d agree with. You can do that too, you know. Find something to steal from him, or use something he gave you, and make it your own.”

“Turn the chaos into something good,” Marinette said dreamily, clearly quoting someone. Red Hood nodded.

“Exactly. It’s not gonna be easy, but you got the choice here. You ain’t going back to who you used to be, but you can take the victory away from him.”

“... make him regret ever dunking me in that stupid vat,” she agreed, narrowing her eyes as they filled with determination for the first time since her body hit the acid. “He wants a puppet, an obedient little doll, I’ll give him Annabel.”

“There ya go,” The vigilante slid off the windowsill and approached her bed, holding out his hand for a shake. “I can help you get to that. What do ya say?”

Marinette was silent for a long minute, staring straight into his masked eyes. And then, a slow smile spread over her lips. “I got one question, Red Hood.”

“Shoot.”

“How do you feel about black cats?”

—*—*—*—*—*

This took four hours, holy hell. I’m actually happy with how this turned out. What do you guys think? I even got to max length on Tumblr 😂

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #jasonette #bio!dad joker #bio!mom harley quinn #Poison Ivy x Marinette #platonic brucinette

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